7. Mattie #2
“They are already running late because of this traffic. Maybe I should get out and go ahead on foot. I can make sure that everything is ready to go by the time they get into the campground. Not that I mind waiting in the van with you.”
“I’d love for you to keep me company, but we could be a while. If you go now, I’ll meet you at the trailer,” Dave suggested.
“I’ll try not to take you telling me to leave personally.” She checked behind the van to make sure nobody was trying to sneak past on the passenger side, then opened the door. “I’ll see you in a few minutes.”
“Wait!” Dave leaned across the centre console and kissed her. “A pre-goodbye kiss.”
Mattie felt her face turn red. “I’ll expect a real one later.”
Then she was gone. She didn’t run in the intense noon heat. Her steps stirred up little clouds of dust as she scuffed each foot on the dirt shoulder in disappointment at the thought of her time with Dave being over.
She was still frowning when she arrived at the campsite, and it deepened when she spied someone standing on her trailer. A white-haired man was unwrapping the plastic covering from one of the lampposts. “Hey! Excuse me, what are you doing up there?”
The man looked up but didn’t move. “I wanted a closer look at your Christmas lawn ornaments before I made an offer.”
“They aren’t for sale. Please get off my trailer.”
“I’ll pay you one thousand dollars for this lamppost.”
“Sir, they are not for sale. Get down now,” Mattie said, her voice firmer.
“My wife really loves this stuff. How about two thousand, final offer?”
“Sir, these are the property of Christmastown. You need to leave.” Mattie heard gravel crunch and looked over her shoulder. Dave had caught up and was standing behind her.
The stranger gave a lingering look at the extra-tall lamppost he’d been examining, then climbed off the trailer. “Fine.” He limped over to a light blue truck parked in the neighbouring site.
“That mini truck looks familiar,” Dave said.
“That guy looks familiar too,” Mattie agreed. She thought for a second. “He looks like that man from the truck stop outside of Regina. The one we thought was trying to tie down the lamppost when the wind almost tore off the plastic wrap. He was driving a truck like that.”
Dave’s green eyes went wide. “You’re right. Do you think he was eyeing up the Santa’s Village pieces way back then?”
Mattie watched the man glance in the back of his low-riding truck before sliding into the driver’s seat. “I think he was.”
“What on earth could he have been looking for?”
Mattie turned away from the mini-truck lurching to the end of the row.
Her attention shifted to Dave, who had hopped onto the trailer.
Her boyfriend—she called him that in her head—crouched to look at the exposed lamppost. He stretched out his arm to grab the next closest post, then froze for a moment.
He stood straight with a confused frown on his face.
His finger waggled as he surveyed the trailer.
“Hey, Mattie? How many lampposts did we load back at Hunniwell Ranch?” he asked slowly.
“Twelve. Why?”
“Because there are only eleven here now.”
Her eyes went wide. “Where’d that guy go?
” Mattie looked left, toward the exit, and saw the Magnificent van idling in the middle of the gravel road leading to the entrance.
She assumed Dave had abandoned it when he’d spotted her talking to the stranger at the trailer.
No matter why he left it, the camper van effectively blocked anyone from exiting in that direction.
The stranger, now at the end of the row, must have seen the van too.
He turned right, which was his only option unless he wanted to drive in reverse back past them.
The problem, Mattie spotted instantly, was that the road to the right ended in ten yards at a barbed wire fence that separated the campground from the neighbouring field.
“Hey! Stop!” She broke into a sprint. Suddenly, the truck’s engine revved and the vehicle jerked right. The quick movement caused a tarp in the back to flap, revealing a candy cane lamppost lying flat on the shallow truck bed. “Stop, thief! Somebody, call the police!”
She could run faster than the truck was moving, so she did.
She raced to catch up, then put one foot on the back bumper.
She threw herself over the tailgate, landing in the truck bed with a thud.
Somewhere behind her, she heard Dave shouting.
She pushed herself to her knees and knocked on the cab’s rear window. “Hey, stop!”
Instead, the truck’s motor screamed as the driver gunned it, aiming for the gap between the two fence posts marking the end of the lane.
Mattie ducked and covered her head. She heard a twang, then the scrape of barbs along the truck’s frame.
The truck began bucking, and Mattie was tossed up and down as the tiny truck tires fought their way over a massive rut.
The neighbouring field had been ploughed but was by no means smooth.
Stalks from harvested grains and lump of dirt turned it into nearly unpassable terrain for such a low-riding vehicle.
Mattie heard the truck bottom out more than once as it strained and heaved over the rough landscape.
The driver seemed to be aiming for a break in the fence and a little dirt road that led to a secondary highway running behind the field.
It was the slowest attempted getaway on record.
Mattie could have jumped to the ground and suffered the consequences of a sprained ankle or twisted knee, but she wasn’t going to let anyone steal Christmas.
She looked over her shoulder to see if anybody had responded to her shouts for help.
The Magnificent Van was right behind them, hazard lights blinking.
Behind that, still in the campground, she saw the Christmastown truck and heard the non-stop beeps of its horn as it tried to manoeuvre through the people crowding the road.
All of the gawkers had phones in their hands and were either recording the chase or had them to their ears, hopefully calling for help.
They were halfway across the field when Dave caught up.
He swerved around the truck, then stopped sideways in front of it.
Because of the slow speed and the terrible terrain, the driver didn’t stand a chance.
He couldn’t turn or reverse fast enough to get away.
Mattie watched in stunned silence as Dave jumped out of the van and raced to the right side of the mini truck.
He ripped open the door and dragged the driver from his seat.
Dave hesitated long enough to shift the truck into park before he returned his attention to the man sprawled on the ground.
“Do not even think about moving,” Dave growled.
Suddenly, she felt Dave’s hand on her shoulder. He lifted her off her knees, and once she was standing, helped her out of the truck. “Honey, are you hurt?”
“I’m a little battered and bruised from bouncing around, but I’m okay. What on earth was that guy thinking?”
“Forget him. Are you sure that you’re okay?” He pulled her into a tight hug.
“I’m fine now. I promise. I knew you’d be right behind me.”
“It’s not like I’m going to let you get away.”