Summer Howliday

Fireworks for the Dread, Fright, and Boom

“I’m here for the fireworks!” Lucky Larson busted through the door of the Dust County jailhouse twirling a bundle of string-bound matches like a lasso.

Deputy Carl Preble stumbled to his feet, knocking his chair over in the process, and bounded across the room in two steps. His eyes bugged, and he clamped a hand over Lucky’s mouth.

“What’s going on out there?” a rough and gristly voice grumbled from behind the closed door of the one room in the place that wasn’t a cell.

“Nothing, Sheriff,” Preble called in his most carefree voice, all the while glaring at Lucky. “Just me being clumsy. Knocked my chair over.”

A low growl rumbled behind the door, the sheriff’s version of “carry on.”

Preble relaxed his shoulders, but he also tightened his hold on Lucky’s lips. He ushered the old man out the front door and into the dusty street. Dusk was falling fast, and the townsfolk were lining up and down both sides of the main drag through Silver Pass.

“What’s the big idea, Carl?” Lucky asked when the deputy unmuted him. “You like to suffocated me!”

“You’ll live, Lucky.” Preble walked around the side of the jail and motioned for Lucky to follow him. They kept walking until they were twenty feet beyond the outhouse that served its stated purpose and also provided a picturesque view from inside the jailhouse.

Nothing but the best for visitors of the Dust County justice system.

Piled up on the ground before the men was a heap of munitions, along with several wooden stakes and various lengths of handmade fuses.

Lucky’s eyes lit up when he saw the stash. “Oh, boy, Carl! Can’t wait to get started!” He rushed toward the explosives, but Preble stopped him with a heavy hand on his shoulder.

“There you go again!” Lucky said. “Why you holding me back? And why did you box my ears in the jail?”

“I boxed your mouth, Lucky,” Preble corrected, “because I didn’t want the sheriff to hear you.” The deputy looked at the sky. “And it’s still not quite dark enough for our show here.”

Lucky sighed. “Alright, fine. I’ll wait. But what was with the rough treatment back there? Why didn’t you want the sheriff to hear me?”

Preble cocked his head to one side and pawed at the dirt with his boot.

“Well, I’m sorta doing this Fourth of July celebration on the sly. Even though the town council voted for it, the sheriff told me to put a stop to it. Use force if anyone tried to set off any pyrotechnics tonight.”

Lucky frowned and stretched his back, gazing up into the darkening sky. His eyes fixed on the full moon just sliding into view over a distant mesa.

“What’s the sheriff got against the Fourth of July? He a Reb?” Lucky asked.

Preble shook his head. “Nope, nothing like that. The way Sheriff Cur tells it, there was an incident with some fireworks over in Loup’s Landing a few years back when he was a deputy marshal.”

Lucky scratched his chin, thinking. “Loup’s Landing. That’s over in Tyke County, right?”

“Uh-huh.” Preble looked sideways at Lucky, waiting for what he knew was coming. The old man was thinking again.

Finally, after a few seconds, Lucky said, “Isn’t Tyke County where they had that outbreak of werewolves a few years ago?”

Preble shook his head and sighed. There it was.

“That was just a rumor,” the deputy said. “You know there’s no such thing as werewolves.”

Lucky’s eyes were wide, and he looked worried. He swallowed hard. “I guess. Strange things happen out here in the desert, though.”

Preble rolled his eyes and shrugged. “Anyway, I guess when they started lighting off the first firecrackers that night in Loup’s Landing, Deputy Cur’s dog went crazy. Started snapping and howling. Broke through the front door of Cur’s house and tore off into the night.”

Lucky’s eyes bugged out even harder.

“Cur went looking for the dog, but he never found him. After searching all night, he found one of the pup’s ears…and a paw…and some blood. Out near a rocky cave. Cur thinks a wolf got him.”

Lucky gulped again. “Or a werewolf.”

Preble pursed his lips and studied the sky again. He nodded toward the horizon. “Might not get much darker tonight, thanks to that big moon. Let’s go ahead and get started.”

Lucky didn’t look quite as excited as he had before

“Go ahead and light off a couple of those firecrackers,” Preble said, nodding to a small string of explosives. “The sound’ll get the crowd out front excited.”

Lucky nodded and crouched down next to the firecrackers. He struck a match and lit the fuse, then stepped back a couple of paces. A few seconds later, the pop pop pop of the fireworks echoed through the town.

Out in front of the jail and all down the street, the gathering crowd roared their approval.

Preble smiled at Lucky, who flashed a grin missing a few teeth in return.

And then…

A low growl wafted through the bars of a cell at the back of the jail. The smile slid from Preble’s face, and Lucky stumbled backwards.

The growl grew louder, more desperate and then erupted into a howl.

“I didn’t know you and the sheriff had a dog in the jail,” Lucky said. His voice was shaky, and he cast a hopeful gaze at Preble.

The sound of wood splintering exploded from the front of the jail. The crowd erupted into screams, and the ground shook as their frantic footsteps retreated into the night.

“We don’t,” Preble said, but Lucky was already gone, a blur of elbows and boot bottoms disappearing into the desert.

Deputy Preble drew his six-shooter and edged back toward the jailhouse and the snapping, snarling, growling moonlit-night that awaited beyond.

Other Stories You Might Like

Like the picture says, this giveaway features books across pretty much every genre. There are more than 80 different reads to choose from here, including three of my books. Stock up now and be ready to hunker down in the air conditioning for some quality reading time as the dog days set in!

Frontier Marshal: A Coogan Mystery

U. S. Marshall Danny Coogan returns to his roots in Montana to settle into the sleepy town of Darwin with his pregnant wife. But as Danny races into town ahead of an early blizzard, the storms of his past threaten his future. Not only has the ambitions of the Ghost Buffalo Society set some of the local Indians on a path toward insurrection, but Danny’s best friend, Edmund Goodrunner, working undercover for the Tribal Council, has gone missing.