Chapter Five: Peacemaker

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(I jumped off the deep end on this one, I really did. T r i g g e r  w a r n i n g)

"Dang blasted!" Boss Hogg exclaimed, causing his loyal, well... mostly loyal, sheriff to jump.

"Here we go again," Rosco muttered under his breath.

"I'm losin' money, Rosco! I'm losin' big money! There ain't no one to man the diesel pumps, I've got Defects takin' my fuel for free, and the business's gone down so bad we's startin' to look like a ghost town!"

"Boss, I think you're bein' a little overly dramatic; the business ain't that bad."

"Ain't it? Rosco, I make more money bein' the Hazzard County probation officer than I do sellin' whiskey, contraband, and watered-down beer!"

Rosco shook his head, resituating Flash in his arms.

There was a long pause. "Wait a minute." Boss Hogg checked his pocket watch. "Oh, I knew I was forgettin' somethin'; I was supposed to meet the Duke boys fifteen minutes ago!"

"Wh-where?"

"Well at the courthouse, numbskull! We just got it put back together after that no-good-nephew-of-mine blew it to pieces."

"Oh yeah."

Rosco'd nearly forgotten about the courthouse; he and his deputies had been operating out of the Boar's Nest ever since it'd been blown up by Hughie Hogg and his goons. It'd been rough lately, with the Jackson case and now his 'accidental' death. Despite what everyone else thought, Rosco had finally managed to get something through that thick head of his, and that Jackson did deserve death. After what he'd found out, and what Cooter had told him, he decided to do some digging of his own. What he found made him sick to his core.

Yesterday, he bought a bouquet of flowers and drove for nearly an hour just to visit a young man who would never walk or speak again because of what Jackson had done to him when he was twelve. It'd been four years since he hurt him, but Rosco could tell, the boy was still devastated.

He couldn't imagine Bo having to go through that. It was heartbreaking to watch someone struggle alone, especially with something such as that. He suddenly wondered who else knew. Who else knew what Jackson did to kids? Cooter, no doubt, Christine, maybe, the folks in Osage, definitely, the Dukes, not a clue. As it should be, Rosco thought. That night when Bo had come so close to an unspeakable fate, that was the night where Rosco knew Jackson needed to be gone. However, with the Hogg brothers having practical ownership of him, it was almost impossible to do, until now. God, how Rosco wished he could have been there. How he wished he could've watched Jackson die a painful death. Justice for the children the sick man had killed, raped, and broken. Justice for the boys and girls who couldn't find peace with themselves after they'd been hurt.

Suddenly, Rosco was jostled from his thoughts by Boss Hogg snapping his fingers in front of his face, causing the sheriff to jump once more.

"Wh-what?" Rosco mumbled.

"Peabrain! I was sayin' that since I missed the meetin', we might as well head over to the Duke farm to make sure everythin's right and orderly," Boss Hogg explained, aggravated.

"R-right."

Boss Hogg grabbed his hat off the hook and walked out the door, Rosco following. As they walked out into the bar room of the Boar's Nest, headed for the front door, Rosco found himself pulled aside by Cooter.

The wily mechanic handed the sheriff a folded piece of paper. Rosco almost began to unfold it, but Cooter stopped him.

"Don't open it," Cooter growled in a low voice.

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