by Jana DeLeon
And Ida Belle had been right about the pace. It was decidedly slow. So slow that I was getting bored. The caravan headed down Main Street and into the residential area. The route would take us past the park and in a big loop around the neighborhood until it arrived back on Main Street. All vehicles on the route area were required to be parked in driveways to ensure plenty of room. The entire thing was supposed to take an hour but at the rate we were moving, I was wondering if we’d get back before Christmas.
“Your blood pressure must be through the roof,” I said to Ida Belle. “Having to drive this slow has got to be stressful.”
She laughed. “It’s certainly not my norm. But it would be hard to do much fancy driving with a trailer attached. And then there’s the kids.”
“Yes. Parents might get upset if you went all NASCAR with their babies.”
“Ha! I’ve seen the way most of them drive. NASCAR would be an improvement.”
As we entered the neighborhood, I pointed to my front door. “Look at the wreath Gertie made for me.”
Ida Belle glanced at the circle of green and narrowed her eyes. “What are those red things on it?”
“Empty shotgun shells. She even put little lights in them so they glow really well.”
“Perfect.”
“Hey. Where’s Carter?” I’d expected to see him downtown, but Deputy Breaux had been lurking at the start of the trailer parade.
“Why are you asking me? He’s your man.”
“Do you know where Walter is?”
“Probably sitting in his recliner in his underwear and watching bass fishing.”
“That was far too much information.”
“I’m just kidding anyway. He and Scooter hang out at the General Store in case any of the four-wheelers needs a last-minute tune-up or part. Since Deputy Breaux was minding the start of the ride, I’m guessing Carter is either at the park or on the last leg of the ride. They space out along the route in case of an emergency.”
“What constitutes an emergency?”
“Equipment failure or someone needs to vacate a trailer. Sometimes a kid has a meltdown and has to be removed. And we’ve had a couple heart attacks.”
As we approached the turn for the park, I peered around Ida Belle but didn’t see Carter’s truck parked on the street. I did, however, spot Sheriff Lee sitting on his horse at the edge of the park.
“There’s Sheriff Lee,” I said. “If someone has a heart attack, I don’t think carrying them on the back of that horse is a good idea.”
The horse was as old as Sheriff Lee and probably as deaf. Two pounds more on his back would probably cause his legs to collapse. As the caravan approached the middle of the park where Sheriff Lee was stationed, I saw movement on the other side of the street. It looked like two people ducking behind the hedges on one of the lawns. My senses went on high alert. People who were minding their own business didn’t need to hide behind shrubbery.
Seconds later, trouble erupted.
The first bottle rocket went over the caravan and landed in the park. Sheriff Lee’s horse was partially deaf, but even one with reduced hearing would have heard the blast when it exploded, and then there were the sparks shooting off of it as well. The horse reared up, higher than I would have thought possible, and Sheriff Lee managed to maintain his seat. Another feat I didn’t think could happen. But when the horse’s front hooves hit the ground, he dug his back ones in and took off.
The second bottle rocket came shortly after the first and went right in front of the horses pulling the second trailer. I was just about to jump off the four-wheeler and tackle the idiots with the fireworks when the situation went from dangerous to deadly. Between the firecracker and Sheriff Lee’s horse bolting across the park, the horses attached to the trailer made the joint decision that their part in this nonsense was officially over. They reared up and the driver tried to regain control.
When it was obvious that the horses were too far gone to listen, the driver turned and yelled, “Everyone jump!”
The frightened passengers ran to the end of the trailer and jumped off into the street. I saw Gertie handing a toddler to a woman over the side. Then the horses reared again and let out a battle cry. A second later, the driver dived off the front and into the street and the horses took off like they’d been shot. Then they made a complete U-turn and all the passengers who’d just fled scrambled to get out of the way as they raced by, headed back toward Main Street.
With Gertie on board.
She dragged herself up from the bottom of the trailer and looked at us as she flashed by. She appeared startled and a little confused and I hoped that being tossed into the bottom of the trailer hadn’t broken any bones.
“Disconnect me!” Ida Belle yelled.
I jumped off the four-wheeler and disconnected the trailer, then hopped back on. I’d barely gotten my butt on the seat before Ida Belle took off after the runaway horses. We had a crisis situation at the moment, but I made a mental note to slap that driver silly just as soon as all of this was back under control. Who bails off a trailer and lets horses run wild?
Because of the delay in unhooking the trailer, the horses had a head start, and they were making the most of it. When we got to the end of the street, Ida Belle made a hard turn and threw her body weight in, sliding the four-wheeler around the corner, then took off again as soon as the tires reconnected with the pavement. We flashed by my house and I saw my crazy neighbor, Ronald J. Franklin Jr., standing on his front lawn, obviously there to check out the commotion. I was pretty sure he was dressed like Abraham Lincoln but didn’t get a good look. We caught up to the runaway trailer just before it got into town.
“Get ready!” Ida Belle yelled.
We hadn’t actually discussed a plan, mostly because we’d been moving at warp speed, but I assumed we were going for one of those Western moves. She pulled her knife out and handed it back to me, which confirmed my thoughts. It was a nonlethal rescue. I had complete faith in my ability to make the jump. Not so much faith in my ability to handle thousands of pounds of scared, running mass, but something had to be done. As we inched up to the racing horses, I crouched on the back of the four-wheeler, holding Ida Belle’s shoulders to balance, and prepared to leap.
When we drew beside them, I jumped.
I managed to land on the back of the horse and grasped the mane and the harness to keep from pitching off in between them. That would have been dire. People scrambled out of Main Street as the horses charged by and I could hear the frantic yelling. I tugged on the reins as hard as possible but it didn’t slow them at all. In fact, I think they might have picked up speed just a bit. The end of Main Street was completely blocked with tables holding snacks and bottled drinks, all manned by Celia’s group. They all raced for the sidewalk when they realized the horses weren’t going to stop.
Except Celia.
Either the woman had a death wish or a God complex, because I couldn’t think of any other reason to stand in front of charging horses. Then she actually raised her hands in front of her, like she was directing them to stop. I yelled at her to move and when we were only a couple feet away, she finally realized that her wanting the horses to stop wasn’t going to make it happen.
Her eyes widened and she dived, but instead of diving straight to the side, she launched at an angle and landed on the top of the dessert table. I saw a cloud of powdered sugar explode as we blew past and looked back to the see the trailer clip the end of the table, spinning it around. I saw Celia fly off into the crowd before I turned around and realized the situation had just gone from bad to way, way worse.
The horses were heading off the road and straight for the bayou.
Chapter Twelve
I pulled Ida Belle’s knife from my bra and started cutting the harness straps. I got the first horse loose then did a half jump, half drag onto the other horse and started working on those. I could see the bayou in the moonlight and it was approaching far quicker than I wanted. As I cut the l
ast strap, the horses saw the water and made a hard left turn, pitching me off into the marsh grass. I jumped up just in time to see the trailer continue on the original trajectory and launch over the edge of the bank and into the bayou.
I ran to the bank, scanning the water for Gertie. A couple seconds later, she popped up, blowing water everywhere, and then let out a huge woot.
“Get out of there before the alligators come for dinner!” I yelled.
She started for shore but after about two feet, it seemed as if she were swimming in place. “Something’s wrapped around my ankle!” she yelled. “Good Lord, I’m bait!”
I heard people running up behind me but I didn’t have time to chat. I dived into the water and swam for Gertie. She was still treading water when I reached her and it was a bit of a challenge to grab her leg as she kicked. I finally located the problem. One of the harness straps was wrapped around her ankle. I pulled Ida Belle’s knife out again and cut the strap. As soon as the knife pulled through the last of the leather, Gertie managed to kick me right in the face with her free foot.
I broke the surface and heard people yelling from the bank.
“It’s a gator!” a woman called. “Hurry!”
Both of us started for shore and a couple seconds later, a shower of bullets rang out overhead. Without even thinking, I ducked below the surface, pulling Gertie with me. Then I swam like crazy. When my hands hit mud, I sprang up from the bottom and turned to see Gertie not far behind me. The alligator was nowhere in sight. Which meant he’d either made the educated decision to leave the area or had gone under, refusing to give up the prize.
I reached back and grabbed her shoulder, practically hauling her to her feet. Carter and Ida Belle scrambled down the bank and half carried, half dragged her up as she coughed. I hurried behind them and sank onto the ground next to her.
“Is she dead?” a man asked, staring down at Gertie.
“Her chest is moving, you idiot,” a woman said. “How can she be dead?”
All of a sudden, Gertie leaped to her feet and started jumping around, pulling at her shirt.
“It’s got me!” she yelled.
I bolted up, having zero idea what was expected of me. Then she reached inside her blouse and pulled out a live fish with something that looked like a small candle locked between its jaws. Still jumping, she flung the fish into the crowd of people and it hit Celia right across the face. Celia screamed like someone had killed her and then realized she was clutching the fish and screamed again as she tossed it into the crowd.
“What the heck is wrong with you?” a man yelled. “That’s a perfectly good bass.”
“Look.” A boy, probably about fifteen years old, bent over and picked up what the fish dropped out of its mouth. “It’s a really cool firework.”
By the time what he said registered, he’d pulled out a lighter and lit up the end of the stick.
“That’s not fireworks!” I yelled, and lunged for the stick.
I tore it from the shocked boy’s grasp and threw it in the bayou. A second after it hit the water, a giant boom tore through the air, and wet hay and fish blew out of the water and all over the crowd.
“Get those bass!” a man yelled.
“I guess my cows will be eating grass this week,” the owner of the trailer said.
Carter grabbed the teen by the shirt. “Where did you get that?”
“It was on the ground, I swear,” the boy said.
“But I think you have one of the troublemakers who shot fireworks at the sleigh ride,” I said.
The teen shook his head. “That wasn’t me.”
“Do you smoke?” I asked.
He looked confused. “No.”
“Then why are you carrying a lighter?” I asked. “And why did you automatically assume that stick was fireworks?”
His shoulders slumped and Carter waved at Deputy Breaux, who was hurrying through the crowd. “Stick him in a cell,” Carter said.
The boy’s eyes widened. “What? Jail? I can’t go to jail. They do things to young guys in jail. And I’m a minor. You can’t throw me in jail without my parents knowing.”
A man stepped forward.
Six foot two. Two hundred thirty pounds. Good muscle tone. No threat to me, but based on his glare, the boy was in serious trouble.
“That’s my son,” the man said. “Haul him off. Will do him some good to sit behind bars for a while. Maybe you can keep him through New Year’s. I’ll give his gifts to his brother. He knows how to act right.”
“Dad!” The teen gave his father a horrified look.
A woman stepped up beside the man and clutched his arm. “Honey, don’t you think—”
The man shook his head. “What I think is that his foolishness could have hurt a lot of people. There were little kids on that trailer the horses were pulling. I’m tired of you making excuses for him. It’s over.”
The man gave Carter a nod and stalked off, the woman trailing behind him.
“Well,” Carter said as he pushed the boy toward Deputy Breaux. “Looks like we’re going to be roommates for a while.”
“Maybe while he’s there, he’ll tell you who his accomplice was,” I said. “There were two of them. I saw them move into the bushes right before the horses took off.”
“I’m sure it won’t be hard to figure out,” Carter said. “Are you two all right?”
“I’m fine, but my bra is shot,” Gertie said. “That fish really did a number on it.”
Celia stomped up in front of us, with straw and powdered sugar clinging to her hair and smelling faintly of fish.
“How long are these three women going to be allowed to terrorize this town?” she asked.
“What the heck are you talking about?” a teen girl yelled. “They didn’t shoot the fireworks, and Fortune saved Gertie and those horses. She’s a hero and you’re a royal pain in the—”
A woman, who I suspected was the teen’s mother, clamped her hand over the girl’s mouth. The girl pulled her hand away and waved her cell phone.
“I got the whole thing on video,” she said. “Posted it to YouTube already, so go see for yourself, you old windbag.” She looked up at her mother. “That’s the nicest thing I could think of.”
Her mother patted her shoulder. “I understand.”
“Maybe if you weren’t always in the way, these things wouldn’t happen to you,” Ida Belle said to Celia. “But it seems no matter what is going down, there you are. You saw those runaway horses coming straight at you. Everyone moved but you. Maybe you should have your head checked.”
Celia put her hands on her hips and glared. “If you three had nothing to do with this mess, then where did that fish get dynamite?”
“eBay?” Gertie suggested.
Carter shot Gertie a look that said he knew exactly where the fish had gotten the dynamite but since she was unlikely to have another stick in her bra, he couldn’t prove it.
“I see you’re going to do nothing,” Celia said. “Ever since you took up with that Yankee tart, that’s become a habit with you.”
“You’re going to want to watch what you say,” Carter said. “I still have one empty cell.”
“You have no reason to arrest me,” Celia said.
“Public indecency?” Gertie suggested. “No one wants to look at that sourpuss face.”
“Go home,” Carter said to Celia. “Or to jail. Given your popularity, I could probably make a case for that indecency thing.”
Celia’s eyes widened and her chest swelled up. “When that idiot sheriff is gone, you won’t have any power. Then we’ll see how your girlfriend and her friends fare with real law enforcement.”
“Looking forward to it,” Carter said, then turned around and walked away, what was left of the crowd trailing behind him.
“Sucks to be you,” Gertie said as she traipsed off after the crowd.
Celia huffed a few times, then finally stomped off.
“Should we do anything about the trai
ler?” I asked Ida Belle.
She shook her head. “Too dangerous in the dark. Scooter will pull it out tomorrow with the tow truck.”
As we headed back into town, I brushed hay off my shirt. “Please tell me this is the last of the Christmas events. I don’t think I can take much more of Sinful’s holiday spirit.”
“There’s caroling tomorrow night.”
“Surely nothing much can happen singing.”
Ida Belle shrugged. “Gertie will be there.”
I’d reached the seventh level of exhaustion by the time I arrived home. Ida Belle had made Walter open the General Store and lend her plastic to line her SUV seats before she’d allow Gertie and me to sit in it. The entire process had added another thirty minutes to a day that already seemed like it would never end, but she said she wasn’t about to smell wet hay and fish for the next two weeks. I probably could have walked home in less time, but I figured I’d already had more than enough exercise for one day.
I trudged into my house, planning on heading straight upstairs and into the shower, when I heard noise in my kitchen. It sounded like a radio or television playing, except that I didn’t have either in that room. I pulled my nine out and shook it since it still had a little water in it, then crept down the hall. When I reached the end of the hall, I sprang around the door, gun leveled.
Mannie looked up at me and smiled.
He was sitting at my kitchen table, a beer in front of him, and grinning from ear to ear as he stared at his cell phone.
“That’s a great move,” he said. “You could stunt double in Westerns.”
I groaned. “How do you find those things so quickly?”
“I have alerts set for anything referencing Sinful, Louisiana. When I first set it up, I didn’t include the state. That was a mistake.”
