"Rosco! Rosco, where are you?" Boss's voice boomed over the CB.

There was no answer. Boss didn't panic; Rosco tended to be a sound sleeper. Napping in the patrol car was one of the Sheriff's guilty pleasures.

"Rosco, if you don't answer me in five seconds, you'll be lookin' for a new job," Boss warned. “I mean it!”

Boss was ready to give it a third try with all the usual threats, when Rosco's relaxed drawl came back over the air. "I read ya, lil' fat buddy. 'Cept I'm busy right now, would you mind callin' back in about a half-hour? I'm gone."

"Rosco!!" Boss bellowed. "What do you mean you're busy? You ain't busy 'cept for sleepin' on the job! If you ain't in town in five minutes, I'm gonna..."

Boss’s tirade was cut short. Rosco climbed up from the back seat of the patrol car, turned off the CB, and then hung his Stetson hat over the mike for good measure. Then he sank down into the back seat of the car, smiling at the young woman whom he had been spending a pleasant afternoon with.

"Sorry 'bout that, Ellie. Where were we before we got interrupted so loudly...oh, that's right! Khee! Oh, that tickles! Stoppit! No, don't stop..."

Within the scant privacy of the patrol car, parked along a dirt road under a shady maple, Rosco and Ellie Mae made a thorough aquaintance. It was a peaceful enough spot for such a rendevous, being a well-known speed trap that the entire county avoided.

Except the Dukes, who were out for some sport, and Bo let out a whoop of delight when he spotted the Plymouth Fury nestled among the trees. "There he is! Dang, Luke, I almost figured he'd retired without tellin' us!"

"Slip up on 'em," Luke chuckled. "Put the car in neutral and let it coast up, then hit the horn. We'll rile ol' Rosco up from his nap, then we'll have a chance to test this new timing chain on the General."

"Ten-four," Bo chuckled, having no idea how unhappy he was about to make the Sheriff.

Inside the patrol car, Rosco was oblivious to anything other than Ellie Mae. “Ooo! Careful, that’s Hazzard County property…don’t scuff it. No, I’m not talkin’ about that, I’m talkin’ about…”

The sudden blare of a Dixie horn sounded against the patrol car, giving Rosco and Ellie Mae the kind of surprise that weaker hearts couldn’t withstand. Rosco bolted up from the back seat, shaking a fist at the General’s taillights. “Ya dang Dukes! I’ll gitcha for this! Now I’m mad, you’ve gone and done it this time…” Rosco climbed into the front seat, unmindful of the fact that his uniform shirt was half-open, and that his tie was hung from the rearview mirror like a garter-belt trophy. The Plymouth Fury leapt forward, making Ellie Mae squeal in alarm from the backseat.

Luke was looking out the back windshield of the General. “Oh, lordy…”

“What, Luke?”

“Bo…I think we interrupted Rosco while he was in the line of duty.”

“Huh?”

“Let’s just say ol’ Rosco had his hands full back there…”

“Luke, what the heck are you talkin’ about?”

“Thirty days, if we’re lucky. Six months if we ain’t.”

Irritated, Bo checked the rearview mirror. “Luke, we get chased by Rosco dang near every day, so what are you…hello, what’s that in the patrol car with him?”

“A UFO. Unidentified Female Occupant.”

Bo grinned hugely. “Well, I’ll be a son of a gun! Ol’ Rosco ain’t been sleepin’ at the speed traps half as much as we thought!”

“No he ain’t, but since we disturbed ‘em durin’ the other half of what he does there, I suggest you quit grinnin’ and start runnin’!”

Bo watched the mirrors as the patrol car aimed itself at the General’s bumper. “You might have a good idea there, cousin…hang on!”

At Bo’s urging, the General Lee danced along the edge of the dirt road, skimming near the ditch. Bo knew that Rosco could be counted on to dunk at least one of his own wheels into the ditch while fumbling around for his gun, or his CB microphone, or his megaphone, and so on. Rosco wasn’t a bad Sheriff; he just tended to get a little excited when he had a fish on the hook. More often than not, the Dukes slipped the net with Rosco’s unwitting assistance.

Not this time. The white Plymouth Fury stayed on the General Lee like a determined bloodhound. The wailing siren was too close; the flashing lights so near as to be felt on their backs.

“Bo…do something!” Luke yelled.

“Luke…think of something!” Bo yelled back.

“Rosco, do you really have to go this fast?” Ellie Mae squeaked from the Fury’s backseat. “My goodness, they’re not bank robbers or anything...”

“No, they’re worse,” Rosco answered, not taking his eyes off the General. “They’re romance-wreckers! I’m gunna cuff ‘em and stuff ‘em, put ‘em under the jail, throw away the key and then bury the whole thing in cement! Then I’ll hang ‘em! Then I’ll give them a ticket for disturbin’ the peace!”

Ellie Mae couldn’t argue with that kind of logic. Nobody could. She refrained from comment, a little sigh her only show of dissention.

The Dukes, meanwhile, were wondering exactly how late they’d be for supper that night. It wasn’t looking good. “Better call Uncle Jesse on the CB and tell ‘em to bring our dinner to the jailhouse,” Bo remarked when his evasion tactics failed.

“Let’s try the one thing Rosco wouldn’t expect. Let’s give up.”

“You sure?”

Luke nodded. “We might have a better chance of getting away from Rosco if we can get him away from his car.”

“Ten-four.” The General slowed down, and the patrol car streaked ahead, sliding to cut off the Charger from any second efforts. The Dukes climbed out of the General as Rosco jumped from the Plymouth Fury, gun in hand.

“Allllllright! Gitcher hands up! Both of ya! Git outta that car! Yer under arrest!”

Bo and Luke complied, moving slowly and looking for an opportunity to escape. Ellie Mae stepped out of the patrol car, bouncing up to stand behind Rosco, her golden curls of hair and perky smile making a stark contrast to the Sheriff’s sour expression.

Bo’s mouth hung open. Ellie Mae wasn’t bad to look at. A little on the well-fed side for his tastes, but she was a pretty girl nonetheless. Luke took a gawk of his own, and found that Ellie Mae passed the bar. She looked to be the cuddling type, all charm and warmth, though he guessed that her breezy smile could mean a low-wattage bulb in the attic. Still, on a cool night at the drive-in, there could be worse dates than the fluffy Ellie Mae…

“What in the heck do you two think yer lookin’ at?” Rosco growled.

“We’re lookin’ at one of the prettiest girls we’ve seen in ages,” Bo said with a trademark smile, flashing his disarming grin at Rosco’s lady friend. Predictably, she bubbled up a giggle, turning slightly sideways in an aw-shucks pose.

“Yeah, Rosco,” Luke agreed. “She’s cute! Ain’t you gonna introduce us?”

“Oh, will you two just…” Rosco was about to tell the Dukes to hush, but something in Ellie Mae’s expectant face prevented it. “Alright. Ellie Mae, this here’s Bo n’ Luke Duke,” Rosco said, gesturing casually with his gun. “Bo n’ Luke, this here’s Ellie Mae. Ellie Mae, I’m Sheriff Rosco P. Coltrane. Bo n’ Luke…you can just call me Sheriff! Now you two put these on and git in the back of the patrol car! I’m through messin’ with ya.”

Rosco tossed the handcuffs to Bo, who eyed them with fading hope. There seemed to be nothing left to do. Ellie Mae, however, looked distraught. Obviously, she’d known Rosco was the Sheriff, but perhaps the grittier aspects of the job were something she’d never considered. Luke sensed this as well, and played it up.

“Well, Bo…looks like we’ll never see Uncle Jesse or Daisy anymore. Rosco’s gonna throw the book at us.”

Bo blinked at Luke a second, then with a glance at Ellie Mae, caught on. He assumed a somber face. “I know it Luke. And then there’s all the kids at home…”

“Hush!” Rosco barked. “You two ain’t gonna get any sympathy from me.”

They were getting it from Ellie Mae. “Oh, you poor boys…how many kids do you have?”

Rosco rolled his eyes. “Ellie Mae, they don’t have…”

“We’ve got four kids,” Bo said, mentally adding up the goats in the Duke farmyard.

“And then there’s Maudine,” Luke added.

“Ma Dean? Your mother?” Ellie Mae asked.

“More like a great aunt,” Luke suggested, and Rosco was getting a headache. “Awright, you Dukes. I’ll buy that you’re related to mules, but…”

“Rosco! What a simply awful thing to say!” Ellie Mae gasped.

“But…Maudine is a jackass!” Rosco protested.

Both Dukes assumed completely mortified expressions. Luke spoke for the family honor. “Why, Rosco! Addin’ insult to arrest! Bad enough you’re sendin’ us up the river when we’ve got kids to feed, but then to slander Maudine…it’s no wonder she never liked you.

“Hush!”

“Oh, Rosco!” Ellie Mae wailed. “How could you be so heartless!”

Rosco looked from Ellie Mae to the Dukes. He could take the Dukes to jail, and have Ellie Mae think the worst…or he could let the Dukes have their little shuck n’ jive, let them go, and stay in Ellie Mae’s favor.

“Judas Priest on a pony,” he muttered irritably.

“Or donkey,” Bo suggested, “Either way, you’ll be out on your….”

“As I was sayin’,” Rosco interrupted, “There comes a time in every lawman’s life when he has to show some leniency. I’m gonna show it to you two just this once. Now git outta here, and if you ever pull a stunt like that one again, I’ll…”

The General was already firing up, and the Dukes slid back inside the car with a whoop. The Charger spit gravel as it tore away, the Dixie horn sassing back at Rosco. The Sheriff watched it go, wishing that the Dukes would take a nice long fishing trip to Alaska one of these days and get lost on the way back.

Ellie Mae stepped up to Rosco and cooed in his ear. “That was a very kind thing you did,” she murmured. “I think you’re wonderful.”

“You do?”

“Yes….”

Ellie Mae lowered her eyelashes, the kiss me look in her eyes unmistakable. Rosco forgot all about the Dukes. He forgot all about Boss Hogg, about speed traps, about fake fire hydrants, and about his pension. He scooped up Ellie Mae in his arms, to her giggling delight, and carried her ample form back to the Plymouth.

There, in the scant privacy of the patrol car, parked along a dirt road under a shady maple, Rosco remembered what was really important in life. Ellie Mae remembered his ticklish spots. “Jit! Oh, you rascal…”

THE END