"More
than A Legend"
What
did the Lone Ranger do after his days in the West? Could an elderly Lone Ranger
really have come through Hazzard? But, he's just a legend, right? The Dukes
find out the truth, and flash back to 1925, as the events from back then may
hold the key to Boss Hogg's soul. This one's how I see things finally finding
up; sequel to my "Hazzard Sparkplugs."
A/N: Here’s how I figure birthdates. Uncle
Jesse and Boss Hogg mention a time in ’35 or ‘38 as Ridge Runners several
times. They’re about the same age. Twin brother Abraham Lincoln Hogg’s phony
birth certificate says 1926, but J.D. couldn’t have been a Ridge Runner at 12!
If one number was off – a 2 supposed to be a 1 – that has J.D. born in 1916 and
him and Jesse in their late teens before Prohibition ended – one episode says
they were doing shine during it – and each in their early 20s in 1938. (1935 also woks.) Boss’ dad could have been a spry 83 in
“Big Daddy.” That works best with Boss having a great uncle die in season 7,
easier for his father’s father to have a younger brother only a few years older
than Boss’ dad. Jesse brought his bride Livinia to
the farm in the toxic waste ep. in
season 5, but she also died there. Elsewhere Martha is mentioned; that’s
explained, too. Finally, I don’t recall the reason being explained for Sheriff Little hating bootlegging so much, but even if it was, the
incident mentioned can still be a secondary one.
As for the stranger, one fansite
says he went out after college, and was born in 1857, because after the 1840s
or so, the
Apologies to those who are better at writing
1920s dialogue than I am, I’m not that great at it, but I didn’t catch where I
had a character say “cool” and changed it to “swell,” so I tried to have them
talk a little less like today, but it might still not be great. It’s kind of
hard to balance the more formal way of talking everyone did with the fact
they’re still kids. I read recently of a man who was either a minister, or his son
became one, from the Deep South where the family did what Jesse’s dad says his
brother did in Atlanta. The Dukes are likely cut from the same mold.
Sequel to my “Hazzard
Sparkplugs.” It’s one of my last
stories, and last in this fandom, as I’m going into the ministry fulltime in
about a year or less, but it gives some idea of the future after…well, you’ll
see.
More Than a Legend
Eight-year old
Benjamin Duke petted the soft, white main of his horse. He was saddled up and
ready to race off to adventure.
(Y’all, one
thing the Dukes have always loved is God’s green
earth. The Duke farm is special, goin’ back six
generations, with Daisy’s adopted son Ben there.)
“Y’all got
your safety gear on, right?” his adoptive mother, Daisy, asked.
“Yes, Mom.”
(But, that Duke
farm holds an even more amazing secret than any of them could have ever
reckoned.)
“Hey, how
‘bout that; y’all look like the Lone Ranger there, Benny,” spoke his father,
“Mom…do you
think Uncle Jesse’s gonna be okay?” Benny asked
somberly.
“I don’t know,
Sugar,” Daisy confessed. She pulled her horse up alongside his, and put an arm
around him. “I know you love your Uncle Jesse; we all do. He raised me since I
was six years old.”
“Yeah…and Bo
an’ Luke, too,” Daisy’s new husband added. “Exceptin’ they was younger
when they came to live with y’all’s Uncle Jesse after
their parents died. At least, I think they were.”
“Oh, Enos,
what’s important is that he’s laid up in the hospital right now, and he had to
make some effort just to walk me down the aisle.” She sniffled. “I ain’t gonna lie to you, Benny,
I’m worried, too. But, remember how he said he had one piece of business to
take care of before he died.”
Benny nodded.
“Do you think it can happen?” He sounded skeptical.
“I don’t know.
It ain’t in our hands, though.”
In the
hospital, Jesse Duke was praying as he lay in the hospital bed. He wasn’t in
serious condition, but still weak from a heart condition. However, the man he
was praying for was in much more serious shape.
“Lord,” he
prayed, “I’ve known you as a friend for many years. I remember when J.D. and I
was trapped in that vault of his, and I thought we were gonna
die. I told him then I was sure he’d make it to Heaven, because I had a friend
up there. He wasn’t repentant like I thought he was then. In fact, he done
tried to trick us out of the farm when we got out. It just wasn’t our time yet.
But, Lord, I know I’ve been prayin’, and I just feel
like you’ve been tellin’ me all this time that that
man was gonna repent when the end was finally there
for him, long as I kept prayin’. Well…all I gots to say is, time sure seems
pretty short. So, if I was hearin’ you right in my
heart, you better start somethin’ pretty quick. And,
I know you will. Because I believe in you. Not just in
the facts, but in Your being my Lord, because of Your
great salvation. And…my friend.” He smiled. “Just like it says in Your Word.”
Bo and Luke
paused for a moment out of respect, to make sure their uncle was done praying.
They weren’t nearly as close to the Lord as Jesse was – and even Jesse was no
evangelist. But, Uncle Jesse was close enough to always pray the blessing at
meals, and talk to the Lord at other times, too. Daisy had taken after him, Bo
and Luke less so.
“Hey, Uncle
Jesse,” Bo said finally. “How’s it goin’?”
“I’m makin’ it,” Jesse said, refusing to show his tiredness. “I
heard J.D. had another heart attack. Pretty serious, too.”
“Yeah, Rosco’s
in there with him now.” Luke sighed. Boss Hogg had been the very crooked County
commissioner for decades, and Rosco the sheriff and, now, co-commissioner. Just
a couple years ago, Boss Hogg had bought a baseball team and tried to cheat to
lose so he could win millions.
“Give him my
respects, will ya? I’m gonna
get over there…before it’s time.”
“Sure thing, Uncle Jesse.” Luke and Bo talked with him for a few
more minutes, then went down the hall to Boss Hogg’s
room.
(Now, while
that was goin’ on, ol’ Boss
Hogg was still up to his dirty tricks, despite bein’
hooked up to just about every kinda machine that
hospital had. Y’all, it wouldn’t surprise me if he died an’ went the other way,
and tried to swindle the devil.)
“…So you see,
Boss, I was thinkin’…”
“Rosco, will
you hush?” Hogg complained somewhat weakly. “Listen, I came back from one heart
attack, I can survive another.”
“Well, Boss,
it just seems that in your condition, it wouldn’t do no good to try an get a silver mine.”
“Rosco, all
them rumors about the Lone Ranger being a real person, and him comin’ through Hazzard almost a century ago…” He winced as
he saw Bo and Luke come in.
“Boss, you
okay?” Bo said with some alarm. “Your chest don’t
hurt, does it?”
“The only
reason I hurt, is on account of you two came in here.”
Rosco
sputtered, “Don’t you Dukes know when to let a man
plot stuff in peace?” He finally relented, and pinched Boss Hogg’s check. “All
right, if it means that much to you, little fat buddy…”
“Cut that out,
Rosco. Just go lookin’ for some evidence of you know
what so I can get my hands on you know what that might lead me to you know
what.”
“Well, let’s
see here…” Rosco appeared to be drawing with his finger in the air. “Which one
of them whats I’m lookin’
for is which.”
Bo laughed.
“Come on, the Lone Ranger? Real?”
“Yeah, and
even if he was, this ain’t no Western town. Why would
he come ridin’ through Hazzard?” Luke inquired.
“Oh, tiddely tuddely, haven’t you boys
been readin’ the newspapers? Old Man Weston passed
away in his late nineties last month, and suddenly his diary comes forward and
there’s all this stuff about some man with a mask ridin’
through Hazzard an’ Chickasaw helpin’ people.”
“Well, shoot,
Robin Hood was helpin’ people long before Lone Ranger
stories came about. Not only that, but some people think there was some truth
to the Robin Hood legends,” Bo pointed out.
Luke
concurred. “That’s right, suppose there was someone like that; with someone
from another race helpin’. Fellow hears of him, and
then decides to exaggerate, and someone else does more. All of a sudden if it
wasn’t an Indian, it becomes one to fit the Western theme…”
“….Yeah, and
then you got the silver bullets an’ all.”
“Bo’s right.
No tellin’ what’s been added to the story just
because a couple Good Samaritans from different races might have be best
friends back in the 1920s,” Luke said.
“Rosco, will
you get those two out of here,” Hogg commanded. “And get to work askin’ questions. As soon as I find out about that hidden
silver mine, I’ll probably perk back up in no time.”
(Y’all prob’ly figure they’re just chasin’
after wives tales, don’t ya? Well, are the folks of
Hazzard ever in for a shock.)
(Ben hated the
name Benny by now – ever since some of his schoolmates started calling him Henny Penny Benny. So, now it was just Ben. And, he was ridin’ his horse around where some of Hazzard’s
construction crew was diggin’ for some new water
lines. Betcha them fellers was
glad it wasn’t the General, huh? Some of them still duck years later when they
hear a car comin’.)
“Hey, is it
safe here?”
“You’re
already walkin’ through it, kid, it better be,”
cracked one worker. “You must be a Duke to be comin’
through this mess.”
“Yes, Sir. It’s my momma that got married to
One of the
workers helped him lift it up and out of the dirt. “We’ll need a crowbar of
some sort,” he told Ben.
“There’s one
at our place. Keep it there.” He rode off, and came back with Enos on his tail.
“Here we are.”
Enos said by
way of explanation, “I hope it’s no bother, the young’un’s
just so excited to be explorin’, so I figured I oughta let him. No tellin’ what’s
in these boxes.”
Once they
pried it open, Ben began reading the roughly printed wording on a letter.
“Look, it says, ‘To the Dukes.’” It was written in phonetic language, but that
helped the eight-year-old read it. “This looks…like a letter addressed to us.”
“Possunonagumbush, how could that be?”
“I don’t know,
Enos…I mean, Dad.” Ben had been adopted by Daisy at age three. He was still
trying to get used to calling him “Dad,” though he’d called her “Mom” for a
while. “There’s a couple letters, and a diary. I
wonder what’s in that one…no, we better not open it, in case someone’s buried
in there,” he said, deciding his first instinct was correct.
“Look. Here’s
another letter,” Enos said. “Seems like it’s from some other fella, though they was probably friends, since these
letters are together here.”
“Jesse Duke,”
Ben said, his mouth agape for a second as he tried to contemplate the idea of a
letter some seventy years old being addressed to his Uncle Jesse. “The names
Duke, and Hogg, and…wait, whoever it is wrote something about ‘the Hogg boys.’”
Ben looked confused. “Did Boss Hogg have any brothers?”
“As a matter
of fact, he did. There was his twin brother, Abraham Lincoln Hogg; he was the
honest one of the two,” Enos began to explain. “Their daddy made a big mistake,
‘cause he got a girl pregnant when they was 16, but
then he married her. He was away a lot on business, but they had another kid
who he was closer to named Jeb Stuart Hogg in 1933.
By that time Boss Hogg and Abe Lincoln Hogg were both out of the home and
working, and their dad taught Jeb Hogg everything he
knew.” He spoke very regretfully. “I hate to say it, ‘cause
they’re gone, but most of that was crooked stuff. Jeb’s
the one who had Huey Hogg and Dewey Hogg, the Boss’ nephews.”
“How come they
didn’t have no Louie Hogg,” Ben joked.
Enos spoke
sadly. “Louie died when he was a baby. That happened a lot more in them days,
‘cause they didn’t have modern medicine.”
“Awww.” He glanced further.
“Who’s Livinia? Was that our Uncle Jesse’s…wait, I
thought his wife was Aunt Martha.”
“Livinia’s one of his sisters; Uncle Jesse was one of ten
children. But, it was also his bride, ceptin’ she
died back at the farm of one of them diseases that’s easy to treat now, what
with penicillin an’ immunizations an’ all. Then he married Martha a few years
later, but they couldn’t have children, till your mom an’ Bo an’ Luke came
along. It’s after she died he didn’t know what he’d do if he didn’t have them
to raise.”
(After Enos
was done filling Ben in on some family history, he suggested they take the
boxes and stuff in ‘em back to the house an’ look
through all of it while Daisy fixed lunch. Then, they pulled out some of the
other old diaries from the attic of the Duke house. Ben was really anxious to
find something to take his mind off his Uncle Jesse being in the hospital.)
(Daisy was
excited, too, as were Bo and Luke when they arrived home, just as Ben started
going through the old diaries and whatnot.)
“Hmmm, here it
says a couple strangers happened through Hazzard in 1925…so it was just J.D.
and Abe then,” Luke told Ben. “Jeb wasn’t born yet.”
(Pretty soon,
the pieces began to fall into place, as they took a trip back to 1925. Fasten
your seatbelts, y’all, we’re goin’ along with ‘em.)
---------------------------------
The aged man
tipped his white cowboy hat slightly, and walked his trusty mount – pure white,
like the man’s hair – along the dirt roads of rural
(Did he just
say Tonto?!)
“It more troublesome here than in West, kemosabe. But, we still make
progress,” his Indian friend agreed.
He thought a
moment as they kept riding. “I never wanted any thinks, except for knowing I
helped someone. But, I’ve developed a reputation after all these years, Tonto. I’m concerned people may come to honor me more than
the right principles I stood for. I don’t want honor or praise. So, when I die,
I don’t want my grave marked.”
Tonto was stunned. “You sure, kemosabe?”
Wearily, the
man explained. He pointed at his mask. “For people to honor me, they must
remember my legacy. This mask became a symbol of right triumphing over might in
the West. Now, that frontier is closed. In the last decade we’ve devoted
ourselves to helping others elsewhere, one person at a time, slowly moving
around while doing so.” He allowed himself to smile. “Anytime someone does
something for the sake of doing what’s right, not insisting on a reward, they
will honor me. Any person who does some good without boasting of his own
accomplishments, anonymous or not, will be honoring my memory.” He ended his
remarks by saying, “I’ve been given excellent health, a long life, and many
chances to do good things for the people of my country. I hope I’ve used all
those gifts as wisely as I could.”
Just at that
moment, a boy of eleven and some friends, each nine, rode up to the men on
horseback. “Howdy, neighbors, I’m Jesse Duke. What brings you here to Hazzard?”
One of the
other boys – they appeared to be twins, except one wore white, the other black
- spoke next. It was the one in white, by the name of
His twin
brother, Abe, responded. “I’m not sure who he is, either,
“I’m glad to
see that that truth is still alive and well. What’s your name, young man?” the
masked stranger asked the boy who wore a black cowboy hat and outfit.
The one who
defended the stranger said, “My name is Abraham Lincoln Hogg, Sir. This here’s
my twin brother, J. D. Hogg. And, this is our friend Jesse Duke,” he finished.
He pointed at the boy in bib overalls. Then, he asked, “What brings you to
these parts?”
“And what’s
with that mask?” J.D. asked. “Are you some kind of outlaw?” He didn’t ask it in
a threatening way. Rather, his query held a great deal of interest, as if
outlaws fascinated him.
“No, I wear
this mask as a symbol of justice - as I’ve worn it ever since my days in the
Old West.”
“We come from
Chickasaw. Help man falsely accused of bootlegging,” Tonto
explained.
The boys’ eyes
grew wide. “Were you a cowboy?” Abraham asked.
“Or maybe even
a sheriff,” Jesse said, suddenly realizing something. “Say, was that man you
helped Mr. Little?”
“That’s right.
He’s engaged to be married now, and in a few years, he plans to have a son who
can grow up to become sheriff; one he says will fight against all bootlegging.
A lot of people tell him it’s impossible to have a son grow up to be sheriff,
given his race,” the stranger continued. “However, I told him to pursue his
dreams. Our nation was founded by men who fought the odds, and won.”
(How ‘bout
that. After what almost happened to his daddy, no wonder Sheriff Little hated moonshine so much.)
J.D.
snickered. “I could stack the odds enough to beat anyone.”
“Don’t pay
attention to him,” Jesse advised. “He just loves to cause trouble. That must
have been real exciting to be out there in the Old West, with all them gunslingers and wild Indians and everything!” Jesse
said in awe.
The masked man
turned to Tonto. “You see what I mean? The minor fact
of having been out West puts these boys in awe of me. He’s not even focusing on
my good works, let alone the fact that each time we stepped in to assist
others, it was done with an eye toward ensuring that right triumphed,” he
pointed out. “That is why I am so concerned that people will ignore the good
which I have done, instead of carrying on the tradition.”
“If I may,
Sir,” Abe pointed out, “our good works don’t get us to Heaven. It’s salvation
through what the Lord did on the cross, and His rising
again, that gets us to Heaven.”
“I never said
I was relying on my works to get me to Heaven. Only that I have helped many
people through the years. I know what gets us to Heaven,” he said confidently.
“And, I have that assurance.”
“Say, speaking
of helping people, I’ve got a little sister named
“Jesse, will
you knock it off,” the young J.D. Hogg said. “You’re always going on about
“Listen,
J.D.,” Jesse shot back, “she may be retarded, but she’s still my kin. And as
the oldest I have a duty to take care of her!”
The masked man
held up a hand. “Perhaps it would be best if we understood who
Jesse agreed.
“Follow me. I’ll show you.”
J.D. scoffed
as he watched Jesse ride off with the other two. He turned to Abe. “Can you
believe that Duke boy? Why, he’s so devoted to
“He has a
point,
“They should
put her in a home for the retarded.” J.D. grumbled.
(Now, y’all
should know that
“He’s got his
parents believing he can care for her himself, and now he goes off with that
masked man...” J.D. stopped suddenly, and inhaled sharply. “Wait a minute. That
gives me an idea…” J.D. grew an evil grin.
(Uh oh. Y’all, I know that look ol’
Boss gets even when it’s the schoolboy Boss. And you can bet he ain’t plannin’ a church picnic.
It’s lookin’ more like an episode of the Little
Rascals. ‘Cept this is in color.)
In the Duke
home, Jesse’s parents and Jesse were explaining about
“So, that’s
what happened,” Jesse’s dad explained. “And now, we can hardly afford to make
payments on the farm without the boys helping us out. We’ve been blessed since
I came back from World War One, but
“I see.”
Mrs. Duke
interjected, “Jesse keeps talking about how he’ll be able to take care of her.
Frankly, we’re pretty worried.”
Mr. Duke
agreed. “Jesse has thankfully always been very helpful with her, just as we’ve
taught him, but it’s still tough. We’re one of few people in this county who
will take anyone in, no matter what. It’s caused some raised eyebrows, but it’s
also earned us a lot of respect. It’s probably that old Duke stubbornness that
makes him willing to be committed like that,” Mr. Duke said. He related that,
“I have a brother in
“He’s doing a
wonderful service,” the Lone Ranger commented.
Jesse perked
up. “Say, that reminds me. You know how Reverend Morris says he’s starting a
bus route on Sunday? Abraham Hogg said he’ll come.”
“That’s
wonderful,” his mother remarked. “What about his brother? As if I had to ask,”
she said tiredly.
“He said he
wouldn’t come within a hundred miles.” Jesse shook his head. “I want to believe
he can turn out good, but I don’t see how.” He had Duke stobbornness, but even that seemed to be beyond him.
His father
laid a loving hand on his shoulder. “Now, Son, remember what we’ve always said.
These things are in God’s hands, not ours. Our job is to bring them in to hear
the Good News, or at least go and tell ‘em about it.
Then, we have to trust God with our prayers to get through. Just like how
you’ve befriended them Hogg boys. Now Abe’s received
the Lord, and he loves his Bible.”
“Tonto and I will be staying a few days; we’d love to be
part of it,” the masked man said.
“We’d be happy
to make room for you, stranger,” the elder Duke said. “Kids crowd into the
bedrooms like you couldn’t believe, but if you don’t mind a floor.” The madked man said it was no problem.
(The county
mechanic, Alexander Davenport, built the church’s bus by puttin’
things together in his shop, and donated it. He woulda
done one for the school, but most of the farmers’ kids were still used to goin’ to school on horseback.)
In his garage,
Alexander Davenport and his son, Horace, were talking with Jesse Duke and the
two strangers. “So, what do you boys have planned for today?”
Horace smiled
proudly. “Jesse an’ I are gonna try to build some
radios to fit inside some o’ them cars you got in your shop.”
“Now, wait
just a minute, son,” Alexander insisted, “you ain’t puttin’ no radios in no cars
unless the people ask for ‘em. This here’s a service
and repair place, not a science laboratory.”
“But, Dad, radios
in cars would be really swell!”
“You been readin’ way too much
Jules Verne, Son.” He turned to the strangers. “Kids would try to build Model
Ts that fly if Jesse’s dad and I would let ‘em,”
Alexander said with a mixture of pride and weariness.
The Lone
Ranger spoke up. “His idea seems a little odd, but many successful inventors
started out that way.”
“Perhaps you
have stationary items they could use?” Tonto
suggested.
“Well, radios
don’t exactly come cheap. But, maybe I can help you two find some cheap stuff
you could work with. You gotta be real careful you
don’t hurt yourself with it, though.” The boys looked disappointed.
“Tonto and I would like to ride the church bus you built
tomorrow, if that’s possible. We’re staying at the Dukes’ place.” The Lone
Ranger considered that it was a lot more peaceful to be out in the country in
the Old West. However, a nice family like the Dukes’ still provided a wonderful
place to relax and ponder strategies or simply be alone with his thoughts.
“Yep; and I’ll
be coming with my brother here,” Horace quipped.
Jesse looked
oddly at him. “I ain’t your brother,” he said, as if
he had plenty of brothers as it was.
(And y’all
thought ol’ Cooter started it by callin’
him Uncle Jesse, huh? Horace never had no siblings, so
he liked to consider Jesse his brother. Anyway, J.D. rode up on his horse at
that moment.)
“Well, well,
well, if it ain’t Jesse Duke, hangin’
around with that masked man again.”
Jesse glared.
“J.D., why don’t you find somebody else to bother?”
“Jesse Duke, I
am shocked,” J.D. said innocently. “Is that any way to speak to a boy who wants
to go to church on y’all’s bus?”
“No, but ain’t no boys goin’ ‘cept me and him, and he wasn’t talkin’
to me,” Horace quipped.
“But, Horace,
I want to go with y’all.”
Jesse scoffed.
“I’ll believe that when I see a pig fly by here.”
“Well, now,
y’all might want to think twice before sayin’ that,
Jesse,” Alexander advised him. “The Lord’s got some funny ways of drawing
people. He might want to go to make fun of y’all, then decide there’s somethin’ to what we believe after all, once he gets
there.”
Jesse sighed,
and turned to his friend’s dad. “Yes, Sir. I reckon
you’re right.” After J.D. waved goodbye and said he’d see them tomorrow, Jesse
added, “I just can’t help but think there’s somethin’
fishy about this.”
“Well, we’ll
wait till tomorrow. We’ve gotta give him a chance,
anyway. Who knows, his brother’s really starting to grow in Christ. Maybe J.D.
will, too.”
Jesse had to
agree. It was rough having friends like the Hoggs.
However, the events of Sunday would prove to be much more than rough.
(Events on the
bus goin’ to church were uneventful. J.D. had
convinced Jesse to bring
Papers being
wadded up and thrown in the Sunday School room were
only the beginning. J.D. caused such a ruckus in the middle of Mr. Weston’s lesson, he was ushered outside and told not to come back in
while the lesson was being taught. When he failed to return, they figured he’d
left, and bade him and his cronies, who also left, good riddance.
However,
during the worship service, things got worse. The church was so small, there
was only the minister, the Sunday School teacher, a
couple deacons, and the lady who watched the small children, the room they’d
put
The Lone
Ranger noticed the ruckus as he turned around. He also noticed Tonto coming toward him. “What happened?”
“Some kid run off with collection, kemosabe.”
He looked at the nursery,and
said, “Look like them trying to draw off helpers there, too. Most
parents going to get their young ones and bring them in here.”
“And, Mrs.
Weston will probably want to help her husband. I know you’d probably like us
help watch Doris, Ma’am, but we’ve got to round up the kids who are causing the
ruckus, and help get the church money back,” he told Mrs. Duke.
“But, what
will people think; will they accept her.”
“I think your
son can handle that part. Tonto, ask the reverend to
make an announcement from the pulpit…”
“Oh, no you
don’t,” J.D. said, “these people came for church, not to help baby-sit.”
“J.D., why
don’t you mind your own business for once,” Jesse proclaimed.
The Lone
Ranger remarked, “Jesse’s right; J.D. invited himself. I don’t know why, but
I’ve got to help find the missing offering. Tonto can
take care of things here.” He explained how J.D. insisted on coming while they
were at the garage.
(Well, the
minister announced that they needed help watching some of the kids, especially
Doris. And, Jesse even got up and told them people
just what help they needed. Meanwhile, the Lone Ranger was able to apprehend
the person who made off with the offering, and recover all of it.)
(Once
everything was settled down, and church was over, the friends prepared to make
their exit.)
Back at the
Duke farm, the Lone Ranger addressed the elder Duke. “Thanks you again for
allowing us to stay at your place.”
“Stranger, I
don’t know why you’re thanking me.” Mr. Duke sighed. “I’ve got to admit, I was
really skeptical. But, the way everyone pitched in to help with
“I knew that,
once they were given the chance to understand what was needed, they would. Not
every man will do what’s right. But, many times, if people fail to do what’s
right, it’s because they don’t understand that there’s a need. Hopefully, they
understand a little more today.”
“Your son
help, too,” Tonto complimented. “It seem many willing to help with
“Yes, he’s
always made us very proud,” Jesse’s dad said as Mr. Weston walked up to them on
the Duke farm.
(Now, between
the other Dukes, and then the some of the townspeople, they were able to help
with
(While Mr.
Weston and Jesse’s parents spoke about what had happened, Jesse pleaded with
the stranger.)
“Sir, before
you go, would you please visit J.D.. I know he’s a lot
of trouble, but, maybe you could talk to him, at least,” Jesse interceded.
“I’m afraid we
don’t have time.” As Jesse prodded further, using that Duke stubbornness, the
stranger admitted that J.D. Hogg might never go there again, and hadn’t even
had the chance to hear the message this time. “Those who report wrongdoing are
seldom appreciated by the wrongdoer at the time. Your concern for him will do
more good right now than any words I could speak. However, if I should find the
time, perhaps I will be able to visit, or at least leave a note.” With that, he
bade Jesse farewell, and he and Tonto rode off into
the sunset.
“Oh, our
friends are still…” Jesse’s dad said, walking out to where Jesse and the others
had been. “Where are they?
“They said
they’re sorry, but they had to go somewhere else.”
Mr. Weston
turned to Jesse, presuming he would know, as he’d just been talking to him.
“Who was that masked man, anyway?’
---------------------------------
“Wow,” Bo said
with a sense of awe. “No wonder them diaries of Old Man Weston’s talked like
he’d met the Lone Ranger.”
Daisy had to
laugh. “Imagine our Uncle Jesse hidin’ that from us
all these years …” The phone rang. “I’ll get it.”
As she was on
the phone, Bo and Luke began to talk about the incredible find this was – the
news could be all over the country.
“Boys, that was Uncle Jesse. He said Boss Hogg’s taken a turn
for the worse, an’ he wants us down there right away.”
“Here, we
better take this stuff,” Ben said. “Especially this one addressed to him.”
“Reckon you’re
right; never know what good it’ll do. Let’s go!” Bo said. The
four of them piled into the General, with Enos following in his own car.
When they
arrived at the hospital, they were quickly shown to the room where Boss Hogg
lay. “J.D., you got some visitors,” Jesse told him from the bedside.
“Look what we
found, Mr. Hogg; it’s addressed to you,” Ben said, rushing over to him with the
yellowed paper.
“To me?!” Boss Hogg said as he weakly tried to move to take it. He
couldn’t. “Jesse, you read it for me.”
“Sure.” Jesse
was quite confused about what it might be. “Where was this?”
“In a box,
buried on our property,” Ben explained. “With some other letters and stuff;
including one addressed to you.”
As Jesse read,
the memories came rushing back. “It says, ‘Dear Master Hogg. I didn’t get a
chance to say goodbye. Your friend, Jesse, asked me to write you a note, as he
was hopeful it would be found in the future. If it is, I want you to know that
I meant you no harm in turning you in. You had trouble accepting that there was
a right and wrong. However, I wanted to make sure you understood, in case you
decided never to darken the door of that church again. You see, what your
friend Jesse was saying was correct. We are saved so we can do good works. But,
the only requirement God puts on our entering Heaven is a repentant heart. You
see, what the Sunday school teacher was trying to tell you – with the whole
class – was that we all sin. Even I am capable of sin.
When I was left to die by the gang that ambushed us, I held some very vengeful
feelings toward them for the first day or two after I awakened. I put those
aside, however, and sought to pursue justice wherever I could find it.’”
“Is that
really from…?” Lulu asked, recognizing the beginnings of the legend so many had
heard.
“Wait, there’s
more,” Jesse instructed. “’I don’t know what road you will choose, or when you
will get this. I’m only leaving this because your friend Jesse asked me to
produce something before we left. I have finally had the time, and I wanted to
tell you that it’s never too late to turn over to the side of justice. I pray
you will remember that time in Sunday School, and come
to realize that there is more to life than what your heart was set on then.
Sincerely…’” Jesse gazed in amazement at the paper. “‘…the Lone Ranger.’ And
inside this here envelope…” He pulled out a silver bullet, and gave it to Boss
Hogg. “Look.” The look on Hogg’s face was incredulous, yet the memory seemed to
dawn on him, too, after a time.
“Uncle
Jesse…how come you never told us,” Daisy wanted to know, finally breaking the
silence as Hogg studied the bullet and pondered things.
“Well,” Jesse
began, hedging a little, “when that radio show started, J.D. and I, we was
already with the Ridge Runner. And, later on, well, I guess J.D. forgot about
it. I recalled, but…well, would you have believed me? I mean, the show took
place in the Old West.”
Ben’s mind
jumped to another subject. He began to explain forgiveness to Boss Hogg,
imploring him to make a decision now. Jesse put a hand on his shoulder,
reminding him that Boss Hogg was the one who had to decide; they couldn’t do it
for him.
“What I wanna know is, how’d this stuff
get buried on our property?” Bo asked.
“Look.” Luke
had just begun to study the letter that was written in less proper English.
“Look, this must be from Tonto. It talks about how
some time later, the Lone Ranger passed away, an’ this stuff was buried with
him, in a separate box. He musta come by when Uncle
Jesse was with the Ridge Runners.”
Bo’s mouth
flung open. “Wait…this means all this time, the Lone Ranger’s been buried on
our property!?!”
“It would
appear so,” Jesse muttered, lost in thought.
“Right. His friend might have figured this was a good place, and
he’d take care of delivering the letter, too. But, if neither Jesse nor Boss
was here, well, he figured he’d bury them, and tell someone so they could dig
the box up later. Except things got so busy, it was never done.”
“It had to be
before the radio show started, right, Luke?”
“Way I reckon,
both of ‘em were gone by then. ‘Course, anyone coulda told the secret; I red where there was people at the
start of that show who swore they’d know him. Maybe some of ‘em were right,” Luke surmised.
Jesse shushed
him politely. “Boss wants to say something.’”
“Jesse…I can’t
believe it. I’d plumb forgot all about that day, I done
so much bad since. I never did pay no attention to
what folks was sayin’ about that. Like when I thought
I had two weeks to live, an’ tried to put all sorts of good stuff into those
weeks.” J.D. recalled how religion so permeated Southern life back then, it
would have been hard for a kid to miss the Gospel, unless a church wasn’t
preaching it right, or a family wasn’t going. Yet, his brother Abe had heard,
and was totally different than J.D. had been.
“There’s still
time, Boss,” Daisy remarked.
J.D. looked
longingly at Jesse, and asked, “Even for me?”
“Even for you,
J.D.; even for you. All it takes is a repentant heart,” Jesse said.
“My Uncle
Jesse’s been prayin’ for you forever,” Ben informed
him; the others copied.
Boss Hogg
considered his life, the letter from so long ago, and everything. He thought
about the Dukes, who had loved and forgiven him despite all he’d done. And, he
thought about the end. “This ain’t gonna be like in the bank vault, is it?” he moaned. The
slow, solemn shake of Jesse’s head, like the cold, icy stare of the Ghost of
Christmas Future, told him all he needed to know, awakening his apirit to the fact that there was only one chance. And, he
wanted to make the right one. “Just tell me what I gotta
do.”
Jesse smiled,
and instructed Bo and Luke to grab the Bible that lay in the hospital room’s
dresser. “Open it to Luke 23, the thieves on the cross…”
Before they
knew it, Boss Hogg was realzing what one thief had,
that he was condemned because of what he’d done. He had no chance at Heaven
himself, because of his sin. Jesus, on the other hand, had done nothing wrong,
but had suffered in his place; He’d tasted death so the thief – and Boss Hogg –
could receive forgiveness, and enter His eternal kingdom. “All you gotta do is receive it, J.J.. Just
receive what He did for you by faith. I’ve known Him as a friend for many
years. But, we can both know Him forever.”
“You know,”
Jesse said after a long pause, “the great thing about true friends is, they don’t let you down.” He sighed. “Over seventy years.
Ben,” he said, placing a hand on the lad’s shoulder, “I don’t know how much
more time I have here. That might have been the last thing He had for me to do
here, or I might have ten more years. But always remember, I prayed for that
man for seventy years. Imagine if I’d stopped after five. Or even fifty.”
“Yep. There’s times we coulda sued him for
every penny he had, and won after a lot of fightin’,
once it got out of his jurisdiction,” Luke noted, having more experience with
normal justice since he was in the Marines. “Put several of his biggest schemes
together, and we coulda had a great case. But, we
respected you, Uncle Jesse. And, it turns out you was right,” he surmised.
“Hard to imagine him bein’ different. I guess we’ll see it
on the other side, though,” Bo remarked.
Daisy agreed.
“He’ll probably seem a lot like his twin brother.”
“Woulda been nice to see ol’ Boss
show that change here on earth.”
“He’s where it
counts, Luke,” Jesse remarked.
“Yeah.” Luke thought a minute. “Reckon it’s just hard to imagine.
I suppose I just need more faith, huh?”
(And that,
ladies and gentlemen, is how the Lone Ranger made one final ride in Hazzard.)
(When ol’ Boss was laid to rest, Jesse shared what had happened,
and suggested the pastor give an altar call. Quite a few went forward.)\
(Rosco was too
heartbroken to do much, an’ he didn’t want to continue the crooked ways, either
– he’d just gone along with Boss to keep his job, an’ he realized that wasn’t
the way the county should be run. Plus, he was getting’ pretty old himself. So,
in the special election for
Cooter
(Bo an’ Luke
didn’t want to run against each other, and Cooter was a fine choice. But, he
had some good natured competition, too.)
(Ain’t it great to see two, good natured, honest people runnin’ clean campaigns? Folks in Hazzard didn’t know what
to do, without nothin’ to complain
about.)
(As for the
Lone Ranger, they decided to bury him again; an’ even I don’t know where he is.
But the important part is, his legacy’s livin’ on. Whichever one won, they’d be able to continue
that great tradition of workin’ for what was right.
There’d be no more phony speed traps, no more corruption, just good, hard workin’ people who always try to help each other.)
(So, things was finally workin’ right
in Hazzard, thanks to the Dukes, a lot of prayer, and a little help from the
Lone Ranger.)