**** **** ****
The next morning Rosco awoke early, dressed and headed downstairs to the kitchen. In no time he had two dogs underfoot.
“Jit,” he muttered, watching his step to avoid stepping on his basset hound, Flash. Bandit, snuck around Rosco and then the German Shepherd stood in front of him, looking up.
“You two can’t be looking for food already?” Rosco said. “It’s four o’clock!”
Bandit gave a high pitch whine. Flash yawned.
“Awright, hush now, I’ll let ya have some doggy num nums. But ya gotta be quiet! MaryAnne’s sleepin’ and if we wake her up too soon she’s gonna be mad. And ya know who she’s gonna be mad at don’t ya? Me.” Rosco stepped toward the counter and the coffee maker. He promised the dogs food but the coffee was the first order of business.
Since Rosco and MaryAnne were always coming and going from the house, a pot of coffee was always brewed and ready. Rosco fixed himself a cup and took a sip to get him started. He then reached to the cabinet to get the bag of dog treats and opened the door. The bag of dog treats was suddenly tumbling out of the cabinet toward him.
“DOH!” The bag hit him in the chest, unfolded open and dumped several cookies on to the floor before landing with a thud at his feet.
Flash and Bandit were on them on no time to assist with the clean up, grabbing up dog cookies in their mouths and chomping away.
“Wait! No, Flash—Bandit! Jitjit!” Rosco bent down grabbed up the bag and put it on the counter. He then moved to pick up the spilled cookies on the floor, scooping them up with both hands and then standing up to dump the scooped up cookies into the sink. He stepped on a dog treat, crushing it into the floor.
“Ooo, jit!” He stepped off it quick, only to land his foot on another one. “DOH!”
Flash and Bandit were oblivious to Rosco’s Dog Treat Two Step. They still had a few cookies left to scarf up.
Rosco knelt back down again to scoop up the rest of the cookies. He quickly tossed those up into the sink and picked up the last few cookies, leaving just the few crushed ones on the floor.
Flash had no interest in a crushed dog cookie. Bandit on the other hand wasn’t so discriminating and immediately tried to lap up the crumbs.
“Oh no ya don’t…” Rosco grabbed Bandit’s collar and gently tugged the dog away from the cookie crumbs. He hustled the German Shepherd out of the kitchen, to the living room where Bandit jumped up onto the couch and laid down, basking in his doggy num num victory. Flash waddled out of the kitchen and went to her usual spot on the living room floor, her tail wagging happily.
Rosco returned to the kitchen to clean up his mess. He went to the counter and no matter where he stepped, he stepped on the already crushed cookies grinding them even more. He ignored it, folded up the dog treat bag again, and put it up in the cupboard. He then turned and went to other side of the kitchen and the closet to get a broom and dust pan.
The closet was a mess. In addition to the usual household cleaning supplies like a mop and bucket and the vacuum cleaner, the closet also housed some old coats and long forgotten clothes, items held on to for the day when they would fit again. Where’s the broom? He reached in, pushed some clothes out of the way, and found the mop. He removed that from the closet and leaned it against the wall, where it promptly fell over, clattering against the kitchen table before hitting the floor.
He found the broom but as he pulled it out he found it was somehow wrapped up in the cord from the vacuum cleaner, which brought that machine popping out of the closet and clattering on the floor as Rosco tried to keep it from falling over, while still holding on to the broom. The balancing act failed and the vacuum hit the floor with a loud thud.
Rosco jumped back from the vacuum. “Doh!”
At the doorway to the kitchen, MaryAnne was standing in her bathrobe, squinting at her cousin. “Rosco, really, I admire your ambition to the clean the house but can’t you wait?”
Rosco looked up. “Doh, I’m sorry MaryAnne. The pups were lookin’ for a treat and I dropped the bag and made a mess over here…” With broom and dustpan in hand, Rosco turned to the mess he just spoke of and began to sweep it up.
MaryAnne stepped into the kitchen and picked up the fallen mop.
“I’ll take care of all that,” Rosco said. “G’wan back to bed and git some sleep.”
MaryAnne ignored her cousin. Considering all the noise he made just to clean up the mess with the dog treats, she could only imagine the noise he would make as he tried to put everything back into the closet. She situated the mop, rearranged the bucket, pushed some stuff out of the way, stood the vacuum cleaner up again, and then lifted it into the closet.
Rosco stood up and dumped the dustpan into the nearby garbage can. “MaryAnne, I said I’d get that.”
“Yeah, I know. Figured since I was here, I’d save on the noise—I mean, give ya hand.” She grinned at him.
“Doh…I am sorry I woke ya up. I know ya got home at midnight an’ all.” He turned back to the floor to sweep up the last of the dog cookie crumbs.
“S’awright. Now that I know you’re not renovating the house here, I’ll go back to bed.”
“Awright, sweetheart. Good night.”
“Good morning.” MaryAnne smiled and left the kitchen, heading back upstairs.
Rosco finished sweeping up the floor and then collected up the discarded cookies out of the kitchen sink and put them in the trash. When he finally had the kitchen back in relative order, his coffee had grown cold. He poured the cup down the drain and decided he would get some coffee when he got to town later. He packed a donut and a banana into a brown paper bag for a meager breakfast for the road, shrugged into his black uniform jacket, put his black Stetson hat on his head and then hefted Flash into his arms.
Once he and the Bassett were outside and loaded into his patrol car, he headed off on patrol. Finally, the house settled down again and upstairs, MaryAnne drifted off to sleep.
When the sun was just starting to peek over the horizon a little later, Hugh, Moose and Nicky had found their way to the Coltrane homestead. Hugh guided the white Chevy Suburban down the dirt road and slowed the vehicle as they passed the house, all three seeing the blue Firebird parked out front.
They continued down the road several feet and pulled over at a cow path. Hugh backed the Suburban into the cow path and all three men looked up the road to the house again.
Nicky and Moose exited the truck. Hugh remained with the vehicle with the engine running. This job should only take a few minutes.
Nicky and Moose walked up the country road to the house. The morning air was still and quiet. There was nobody else around to see anything and the houses here were far enough apart that nobody would hear anything. At the driveway, they paused for only a moment for Nicky to draw back on his rifle and Moose to disengage the safety on his pistol. With that done, they started up the drive.
When they stepped up on to the farmer’s porch, the old planks creaked under their weight. They kept moving to the door.
Inside the house, Bandit suddenly sat up on the couch, his ears pointed straight up. He then came off the couch and went to the door, pacing near it, sniffing and listening. His head snapped up when the door handle clicked. Strangers… He stopped and stood back from the door, rigid, ears flat, tail low and started barking.
Moose and Nicky looked at each other. The dog was no surprise, they had seen the German Shepherd with MaryAnne the day before. It was a known risk.
“Stay here,” Nicky said. “I’ll try a back door.”
Inside the house, MaryAnne was wide-awake. She rose from the bed, threw her housecoat over her and grabbed her gun belt, removing her .38. Bandit’s barking was clear. Something was wrong.
She moved to the hallway and then to the stairs. Half way down she could see Bandit in a defensive stance in front of the doorway, barking. Through the curtain on the door window, she could see a shadow. Somebody was there but they hadn’t knocked or hit the doorbell.
MaryAnne descended the stairs and moved across the living room to the front window. She peered out between the curtains. She didn’t recognize the big, hulking man that was standing at the door. But she did recognize the gun in his hand.
In between Bandit’s barks, MaryAnne heard the sound of the door off the kitchen being opened. She stepped back from the front window and backed up a few steps to look through the kitchen doorway.
Nicky was in the house and MaryAnne saw he was carrying an even bigger gun than the man out front. She no sooner made eye contact with him when all hell broke loose. Nicky spared no greeting and opened fired at MaryAnne.
MaryAnne dove down to the floor putting the couch between herself and Nicky. She sprung back up just enough to fire a few shots back at Nicky over the couch. Nicky took shelter against the inside wall and doorway of the kitchen.
With the gun fight underway Moose burst through the front door, his gun raised at the ready. The sudden opening of the door had sent Bandit scattering but the Shepherd recovered and lunged at Moose, going straight for the arm that held the gun. Before Moose could fire a shot at MaryAnne near the couch, Bandit clamped his jaw on Moose’s forearm.
“AAAHHH!!!” The painful grasped sent Moose’s hand into spasm and he dropped the weapon. Bandit refused to let go even when Moose tried to shake the dog off, lifting his arm up. Bandit simply went up on his hind legs and put his front paws on the attacker.
MaryAnne meanwhile reached for the CB radio on the coffee table. “RoscoEnoshelp! I’m under attack---!” Another bust of fire from Nicky drowned out anything else MaryAnne said. She dropped the mike and fired a couple more wild shots back at Nicky, getting to her feet at the same time and bolting toward the stairs. Gunfire trailed after her.
MaryAnne ran up the stairs as Nicky came out of the kitchen and paused at the bottom of the stairs. He aimed after MaryAnne and opened fire.
MaryAnne dove off the third step, bullets ripping through her housecoat and she hit the floor with a hard thud, rolling toward Rosco’s room. She scurried in on hands and knees and then got to her feet and went around the bed to the dresser.
Nicky was stomping up the stairs. Next to the dresser was an old 12-gauge pump-action shot gun that had belonged to her father. MaryAnne tossed her .38 on the bed and grabbed the shotgun. She brought it up to bear and whirled around with it, aiming over the bed to the open doorway.
Nicky reached the top of the stairs and immediately went against the wall just outside of Rosco’s bedroom. He held his rifle out in front of him and figured to poke the weapon in quick and spray the room. Only MaryAnne beat him too it. The moment she saw the weapon, and his hands, she fired a round of buckshot.
The buckshot struck the rifle and shrapnel skinned Nicky’s hands, making the assassin recoil and drop the weapon. This game was over. Moose was still struggling with the dog downstairs. His hands wounded and throbbing, Nicky decided to abort before the deputy in the bedroom decided to take his face off with the next round of buckshot.
He ran for the stairs, hollering at Moose on his way down. MaryAnne came out of the bedroom, pumping the shotgun for the next shell. “GIT!” she screamed at them. “GIT OUTTA MY HOUSE!!”
At the door, Nicky assisted Moose to disengage the German Shepherd. Bandit let go of Moose’s arm and both men bolted out the door with Bandit thundering after them, snarling and barking.
MaryAnne followed out and fired off another round of buckshot at the fleeing men as they ran down the driveway.
At the road they kept running. In the Suburban, Hugh looked up and saw a sight that was shameful. Nicky and Moose running scared from a barking dog. Then he saw that each man was wounded. Don’t tell me we screwed this one up too!
Nonetheless, Hugh put the Suburban in gear. Nicky and Moose reached the truck and yanked doors open, jumping in. Bandit had ceased his chase and stood in the road, barking his head off. Hugh hit the gas and the Suburban tore out of the cow path and raced down the road. Bandit scurried out of the way and as the Suburban passed the Coltrane driveway, Hugh saw MaryAnne in her nightshirt and housecoat with no shoes or slippers on aiming a shotgun at them. The thundering sound of buckshot struck the rear of the truck as they made their getaway…
**** **** ****
Since they were closest coming from town, Enos and Cooter got to the house first. The deputy had hollered to the mechanic as he ran out of the courthouse and both vehicles burned up the road to get to the Coltrane homestead just a couple of miles outside of town. They never passed the Suburban has Hugh had pulled off on another road and the assassins were well on their way out of sight by the time Enos’s patrol car and Cooter’s tow truck were pulling into the Coltrane driveway.
MaryAnne was back inside the house surveying the damage. She was still in her nightshirt and bullet ripped housecoat. The front door was wide open and the 12 gauge pump was still in hand. Now coming down from the adrenaline, MaryAnne shook with anger. Who the hell were those two guys, busting into the house like that at this hour of the morning?!
“MaryAnne?! MaryAnne!” Enos and Cooter both were hollering for her as they ran up on the porch and came through the open front door. They both stopped just inside the doorway to see MaryAnne standing in the middle of the living room holding the shotgun.
“MaryAnne, are you okay?” Enos asked as he and Cooter both stepped closer to make sure she was okay.
“Yeah, I’m…I’m awright. Just had a good cardiac workout this morning.”
Cooter looked around and saw the bullet holes in the walls and in the couch. “What the heck happened here?”
“Couple of guys busted in, started shootin’. I dunno who they were or what they wanted. Drifters maybe, passing through thinking they were gonna rob a house or something. They got a surprise.”
“They surprised you too,” Enos said. He saw Moose’s gun on the floor. “Is that yours or one of theirs?”
MaryAnne looked. “One of theirs. There’s a rifle upstairs too. Don’t touch anything, y’all it’s all a crime scene now.”
Enos nodded. “Hopefully them boys left some evidence on the guns,” he said, “so we can find out who they are and catch ‘em.”
“You’re gonna have to do more than catch ‘em, Enos,” Cooter said with building ire. “You’re gonna have to skin ‘em alive…”
The sound of another car could be heard pulling into the driveway. Soon Rosco’s voice was calling for his cousin. “MaryAnne! Hang on, MaryAnne, I’ma comin’!” A moment later Rosco was barreling up the front steps and came rushing through the front door.
“Woah, woah!” Cooter said, catching the Sheriff before he went headlong into the living room. “Easy now, MaryAnne’s okay…” Cooter pointed to MaryAnne.
Rosco saw MaryAnne was standing and alive and then he noticed the bullet damage. “Jumpin’ G Hosafat! What the heck happened? Are you awright?” He stepped away from Cooter and rushed to MaryAnne.
“I’m okay, Rosco. Coupla guys busted in here, I dunno if they were gonna rob the place or what but they didn’t want me to be a witness to the show. Bandit fought off one guy, I kept the other one at bay. Had my handgun but managed to get back upstairs and grab Papa’s old hunting gun here.” She held the shotgun up. “It turned the tide.”
“You were lucky,” Cooter said.
“You bet I was. Those dudes had every intent to kill me.”
Rosco looked at MaryAnne in quiet shock. MaryAnne had faced down danger before and had been in risky situations, which always upset him. And Hazzard had had its fair share of trouble over the years, but the thought of something so seemingly random, and so violent, happening in his own house and against his kin really unsettled the Sheriff. Rosco put an arm around his cousin’s shoulders and drew her close for a moment.
MaryAnne appreciated the gesture and gave him a one armed hug back. “I’m okay,” she said.
“They left their guns, Sheriff,” Enos said. “Maybe we can get some prints off ‘em an’ find out who they are.”
“You bet we’re gonna find out who they are. And we’re gonna get ‘em…” Rosco released MaryAnne and looked at her. “Enos and I will take care of everythin’. Why don’t you go get dressed and come into town with us okay?”
MaryAnne nodded. “I can help ya here too,” she said. “I’m still a cop, cousin, and I wanna nail these guys just as bad.”
Rosco nodded. “Awright. Go on.”
**** **** ****
Out at the cabin, Hugh helped patch up Nicky and Moose. Nicky’s left hand had taken most of the shrapnel pieces, leaving his right hand – his trigger hand – still functional. Utilizing battlefield medicine, Hugh removed the few pieces of shrapnel from Nicky’s hand, eliciting a painful yelp each time from the assassin. Once that was mercifully over, Hugh cleaned the wounds, bandaged Nicky’s hand, and let the assassin nurse on a bottle of whiskey.
Moose had only suffered a few cuts to his arm where Bandit’s bite had broken the skin. He cleaned and bandaged his own wound, cursing the whole time. He cursed the dog. Cursed the female deputy. Nothing was spared.
Especially Nicky. Moose glared at the gunman. “You said this job was gonna be easy.”
“It shoulda been! The set up was beautiful! How was I to know we were going against friggin’ Calamity Jane?”
“The info we got said she was a cop in Atlanta once,” Hugh said. “And she was a Fed at one time too. Did you take that into account?”
“I did. But if she’s back to being a backwoods deputy, that tells me she didn’t cut it at either job, so she should’ve been easy to take down.” Nicky looked at Moose. “I was wrong, okay?! Happy?”
“No,” Moose replied. “We didn’t get the Fed. We didn’t get this wench deputy. We better be gettin’ ourselves together better or Piper ain’t gonna be happy with us. And The Man will have us picking road tar off his trucks, ya understand?”
“Yeah, I know,” Nicky said. “With our teeth.” He downed some more whiskey and slammed the bottle on the table. “All right…we get this Deputy Strate this afternoon, when he does his patrol. Get him on an empty road. Do it just like we did when we cleaned up those three Federal cars on I-75...”
**** **** ****
It didn’t take long for the news of the attack on the Sheriff’s house to spread through Hazzard. Cooter told Bo and Luke about it when the Dukes stopped in town later that morning to have him check the fuel pump on the General Lee.
The boys were relieved MaryAnne was okay but were shocked by the news. Trouble had come and gone from Hazzard over the years but most of it made some kind of sense. This was a senseless and random act. And there was no way of telling if it could happen again.
“They’re driving a white Suburban,” Cooter told them. “With a load of buckshot in its hide courtesy of MaryAnne. Hopefully they’ve moved on but if they haven’t they’re just asking for trouble.”
“Might not be a bad idea tonight if we hang around the Boar’s Nest when the girls close up,” Bo suggested. “In case these guys haven’t left town and they think of tryin’ to rob the place.”
Luke agreed. “Y’know, I have to wonder if these guys mighta been targetin’ MaryAnne specifically. Somebody lookin’ for revenge or something for an arrest she made.”
“Hmm, that’s possible,” Cooter said. “It’s happened before with her and Rosco and we know she left quite an impression on the city of Atlanta when she was there.”
“Either way, we don’t need these guys running around Hazzard,” Bo said.
Over at the courthouse, Boss Hogg agreed with that.
“Holy Hannah,” he said, after Rosco and MaryAnne told him what had happened that morning. “That’s terrible. I’m relieved you’re okay, MaryAnne, but the last thing Hazzard needs is for some violent criminals to be running about.”
“Well, we got a description of their vee-hicle,” Rosco said, “and hopefully with the fingerprints we got off the guns, the F B n’ I can tell us who they are. If they’re anywhere in Hazzard County still, we’re gonna catch ‘em!”
“You better catch ‘em,” Boss said, “before they return to your house and put more holes in your walls.”
“Jit jit. Yeah.”
“You realize Lulu’s gonna be very upset about this when she finds out and will insist that you two stay at the house for a bit. Which, I’m gonna insist on too, so you may as well consider it done.”
“Thanks, Boss,” MaryAnne said.
“Awright now, you two get back to work an’ find these hooligans!”
**** **** ****
Later that afternoon, Enos headed out on what he thought was going to be a routine patrol.
It started out that way, at least. The familiar back roads of Hazzard County were quiet and peaceful and he thought about sneaking off to Hazzard Pond for a little bit and do some fishing. It was a beautiful day.
Any thoughts of playing hooky, however, were pushed aside when a fast moving white Chevy Suburban caught his eye on the road running parallel to one he was on.
Enos’s eyes became as big as saucers. “Possum-on-a-gumbush!” he exclaimed. He grabbed up his CB mike. “Sheriff! This is Enos! I just found that white Suburban!”
Rosco was sitting in his patrol car out at speedtrap number two, dozing. He awoke hearing Enos’s voice, but it was MaryAnne who answered from the booking desk.
“Enos, this is MaryAnne. Where are you?”
“I’m on Cotton Hill Road. They’re on Willow Ridge Road, we’re almost to the crossroads.”
Rosco cut in now. “Stay with them, Enos! I’m on my way!”
“I’m on my way too, Enos,” MaryAnne said.
Before reaching the crossroads, Enos slowed down figuring to let the Suburban pull onto Cotton Hill Road ahead of him. Only the Suburban slowed down too.
In fact, both vehicles came to a complete and total stop at the intersection.
Enos started at the truck in confusion. Why’d they stop? He looked toward the driver’s window, but couldn’t see the driver. The window was tinted black. All of the windows were tinted dark.
Enos was about to open the door of his patrol car to step out when the window behind the driver dropped down and a rifle barrel poked out. Bullets spit from the barrel, smashed the right side of Enos’s patrol car, and pierced the windshield. Enos abandoned all thought of getting out of the patrol car and hit the gas pedal, speeding through the crossroads. The Suburban followed.
Now there were two gun barrels pointing at him from either side of the truck. Enos looked in his rearview mirror and saw the double trouble before his back window shattered with the assault of bullets.
“AAAAHHH!” This didn’t make any sense! Most criminals flee upon seeing a police car. These guys instead go on the attack! Enos could only conclude that they truly did not want to be caught.
Enos pushed the patrol car to the fastest speed he could without losing it through a turn. The Suburban, despite its girth, followed ably. The gunfire just kept coming, cutting across the trunk lid of the police car, and one bullet taking out Enos’s side mirror.
In the few short minutes of this chase, Enos realized he had to drive less like a police officer, and more like a criminal. His father, having been a moonshiner, had taught Enos how to drive and the skills had proved useful for a pursuit, but it was rare Enos had to think the opposite way. If he wanted to survive this chase, however, he had to start thinking the opposite way.
Mercifully, coming from the opposite way were Bo and Luke in the General Lee. The chase raced by the orange Dodge and the boys heard the gunfire coming from the Suburban.
“Luke, that’s Enos!” Bo exclaimed.
“And that white Suburban Cooter told us about. Turn it around, Bo!”
Bo was already yanking the steering wheel to a hard left turn, sliding the back end of the General around. Straight pipes roared and dirt spit from under the rear tires as the General sprinted to catch up to the chase.
Hugh looked in his outside mirror. “We’ve got company. Moose, get rid of ‘em!”
Moose turned in his seat and climbed into the back of the Suburban with his rifle. He went all the way back to the double doors of the tailgate and sat down. Two bungee chords were hooked on either side of the inside of the truck and Moose hooked these two chords to his belt. He then unlocked the double doors pushing them slightly ajar, picked up his rifle in hand, and pushed the doors open with his feet.
As soon as the doors were clear, he opened fire.
“Woah! Bo, look out!”
Bo swerved out of the line of fire and to the left, but not before a couple of bullets cracked the windshield of the General.
“You awright?” Bo asked his cousin.
“Yeah,” Luke replied. “But these guys are nuts!”
Nuts, but persistent. While Moose was trying to shake off the bright orange car behind them, Nicky was concentrating on the white Plymouth Fury police cruiser ahead of them. All he needed was a clean shot at the driver, if Hugh could get the Suburban up closer.
Problem was Enos wasn’t allowing them to find an opening to come up along side. His back window was shot out enough that he could see through it in his rearview mirror. He had no side mirror on his side, but still had the side mirror on the passenger side of the car. He moved evasively, blocking the Suburban’s path then steering to the other side of the road when Hugh moved the truck there to try to pass.
The changing of lanes forced Bo to take the General off the road and run in the field along the road. Moose left the back doors of the Suburban open but unhooked himself from the bungee ropes and climbed back to the rear door of the Suburban, behind Hugh. Out the window, he fired at the General Lee.
Luke ducked down below the door. “All he needs is one shot at a tire---“
“He got it!” Bo said. He slammed the brakes and held the steering wheel bringing the wounded General to a stop in the field. The Suburban raced along down the road, the back doors swinging like flags blowing in the breeze.
“Dang it!” Bo exclaimed in frustration.
“All’s not totally lost,” Luke said. “That’s either Rosco or MaryAnne coming over the bridge.” He pointed to the white patrol car a distance down the road ahead of the chase. “C’mon, we’ll get that tire changed and catch up again!” Luke grabbed hold of the roof of the car and pulled himself out the window.
Bo did the same and the two cousins moved quickly to change the tire.
Meanwhile, it was Rosco coming over the bridge.
At the same time, Hugh had finally got the Suburban up along side of Enos’s patrol car. The two vehicles were almost running even. Enos glanced quick over his left shoulder and saw Nicky with rifle in hand. Ahead of him was the narrow bridge with Rosco’s patrol car coming over. Enos couldn’t speed up to cut in front of the Suburban so he did the only thing he could.
He slammed the brakes.
The Suburban shot by him just as Nicky opened fire. Bullets traced a line along the quarter panel of Enos’s car but he himself was spared. He watched as the Suburban thundered on toward the bridge.
Rosco was halfway across when the big Suburban came up on the bridge. The old country bridge was only big enough for one car coming in either direction. “Woojit! Git that—move it!! GAAHH!” Rosco made a useless hand motion of trying to sweep the truck off the bridge.
It did nothing of course. Rosco was heading straight for a head on collision. Hugh certainly wasn’t about to stop, which meant Rosco had a choice of either left or right.
He chose left and the Fury crashed through the wooden railings of the bridge, lost its footing and slid off the planks, going nose first into the shallow water. The back end crashed down with a splash!
Nicky and Moose had watched in awe as the police car went careening off the bridge. Hugh wasn’t so impressed. “Friggin’ Sunday parade around here!” he said, irritated that once again, they had failed to hit their target. “Moose! Close those damn doors!”
Moose scrambled back over the seat to the rear of the Suburban and pulled the doors closed. The hit attempt a failure, Hugh turned the Suburban off at the next road and the big truck was soon gone from the area.
Back at the bridge, Bo and Luke caught up to the Hazzard Law after fixing their tire. Enos helped Rosco out of his car and back up to the road. And finally, MaryAnne caught up to the excitement.
“Holy mackerel,” she exclaimed, seeing Enos’s car all shot up and Rosco’s down in the shallow river. “Y’all awright? What happened?”
Rosco gave a nod that he was okay as Enos immediately told his harrowing tale. “Them fellas are mean!” he said. “They started shootin’ at me and they didn’t give up!”
“They shot at us too, blew out a tire on the General,” Luke explained. “And then forced poor Rosco there off the bridge.”
“Yeah…” Rosco said. “That was horrendous.”
“A white Suburban?” MaryAnne asked, looking at everybody. Everybody nodded.
“Same one that was at your house this mornin’,” Bo said. “Me and Luke saw the buckshot hole in the back of it.”
“Sure did,” Luke said.
“Unbelievable,” MaryAnne said. “Has somebody declared open season here in Hazzard?”