working along the same track. “He always left a little something behind,” he muttered.
“Only when he didn’t need it all,” I pointed out. My excitement, and my outrage, grew as I added, “And how did he know what people needed? The kids told him! He just two minutes ago said he spent all day making dreams come true . All he’d have to do is ask the right questions. ”
“Hey!” Buck shouted, pressing forward, and a tall man in a red Santa hat turned. It was only Mike, one of Buck’s fellow deputies. Buck swore under his breath.
“What’s up?” Mike asked.
“We’re looking for Santa Claus,” I answered, gasping a little as we reached him.
Mike chuckled. “Who isn’t? Cute dog,” he added.
“Thanks,” I said, and the puppy, who was grinning happily with the excitement of the chase, licked my face. “Big man, red suit.”
“No kidding, man,” Buck said, “have you seen him?”
“Yeah, he was here a minute ago.” Mike looked around. “There he is, headed toward Hanson’s.” He pointed across the street.
The Christmas lights started to come on all over town as we dashed across Main Street: the wreaths and candy canes that decorated the lamp posts, the swags that were draped over the shop doors, the min i ature trees in the store windows. The Christmas village in front of the florist ’s shop sprang to multicolored life as we ran past, and I slowed my step a little for one more appreciative look. The big tree in the town square lit up in a cascade of red and blue and green, and a dozen sparkling red and white wreaths blinked on along the front of Hanson’s Department store. On the roof of the store, the north pole came to life with snow men, elves, reindeer, and dancing nutcrackers. The whole world was bathed in color, and somewhere a choir was singing, “Hark, the Herald Angels”. The puppy twisted this way and that in my arms, his excited panting hot against my cheek, trying to take in everything.
“There he is!” I cried, and this time it was really him, just reaching the corner of the block that ended in a blind alley behind Hanson’s.
“Hey!” Buck called. “Hey, wait up a minute!”
Santa turned, saw us , and lifted his hand in a wave. “Merry Christmas!” he called back.
“Hold on! We need to talk to you!”
But Santa did not stop. In fact, he might have increased his pace a little as he turned the corner into the alley. And what was Buck supposed to do? Pull a gun on Santa Claus? With frustration tight on his face, he ran after him.
Santa couldn’t have been more than fifteen or twenty steps ahead of him, and as I’ve said, Buck was fast. I was not so fast, particularly when weighed down by a bouncy puppy, and I burst into the alleyway, gasping for breath, a second or two behind Buck.
The alley was -- except for Buck, the puppy -- and me, empty.
Long ago, perhaps in the days of wagons, the fifteen by fifteen area had been used as a loading dock. Now it was nothing but a concrete walled space with no practical purpose that contained nothing but a few rotting wood pallets and a crushed gallon paint bucket. The reflected Christmas lights from the roof illuminated the small area as brightly as daytime; nonetheless, Buck took out his flashlight and shone it on every square and empty inch.
I lowered the puppy to the ground, easing my aching arms, bending at the waist to catch my breath. “He was…right here,” I insisted, wheezing a little. “I saw him!”
Buck frowned. “Me, too.” His flashlight beam climbed the solid wall, at least a story and a half high. “Damned if I know how he got out of here.”
“Reindeer?”
Buck turned to me, about to make some equally sarcastic remark, and then stopped, listening. I heard it, too. For a moment we just stared at each other, and then, slowly, raised our eyes to the sky, looking for the source of the sound that simply
“Only when he didn’t need it all,” I pointed out. My excitement, and my outrage, grew as I added, “And how did he know what people needed? The kids told him! He just two minutes ago said he spent all day making dreams come true . All he’d have to do is ask the right questions. ”
“Hey!” Buck shouted, pressing forward, and a tall man in a red Santa hat turned. It was only Mike, one of Buck’s fellow deputies. Buck swore under his breath.
“What’s up?” Mike asked.
“We’re looking for Santa Claus,” I answered, gasping a little as we reached him.
Mike chuckled. “Who isn’t? Cute dog,” he added.
“Thanks,” I said, and the puppy, who was grinning happily with the excitement of the chase, licked my face. “Big man, red suit.”
“No kidding, man,” Buck said, “have you seen him?”
“Yeah, he was here a minute ago.” Mike looked around. “There he is, headed toward Hanson’s.” He pointed across the street.
The Christmas lights started to come on all over town as we dashed across Main Street: the wreaths and candy canes that decorated the lamp posts, the swags that were draped over the shop doors, the min i ature trees in the store windows. The Christmas village in front of the florist ’s shop sprang to multicolored life as we ran past, and I slowed my step a little for one more appreciative look. The big tree in the town square lit up in a cascade of red and blue and green, and a dozen sparkling red and white wreaths blinked on along the front of Hanson’s Department store. On the roof of the store, the north pole came to life with snow men, elves, reindeer, and dancing nutcrackers. The whole world was bathed in color, and somewhere a choir was singing, “Hark, the Herald Angels”. The puppy twisted this way and that in my arms, his excited panting hot against my cheek, trying to take in everything.
“There he is!” I cried, and this time it was really him, just reaching the corner of the block that ended in a blind alley behind Hanson’s.
“Hey!” Buck called. “Hey, wait up a minute!”
Santa turned, saw us , and lifted his hand in a wave. “Merry Christmas!” he called back.
“Hold on! We need to talk to you!”
But Santa did not stop. In fact, he might have increased his pace a little as he turned the corner into the alley. And what was Buck supposed to do? Pull a gun on Santa Claus? With frustration tight on his face, he ran after him.
Santa couldn’t have been more than fifteen or twenty steps ahead of him, and as I’ve said, Buck was fast. I was not so fast, particularly when weighed down by a bouncy puppy, and I burst into the alleyway, gasping for breath, a second or two behind Buck.
The alley was -- except for Buck, the puppy -- and me, empty.
Long ago, perhaps in the days of wagons, the fifteen by fifteen area had been used as a loading dock. Now it was nothing but a concrete walled space with no practical purpose that contained nothing but a few rotting wood pallets and a crushed gallon paint bucket. The reflected Christmas lights from the roof illuminated the small area as brightly as daytime; nonetheless, Buck took out his flashlight and shone it on every square and empty inch.
I lowered the puppy to the ground, easing my aching arms, bending at the waist to catch my breath. “He was…right here,” I insisted, wheezing a little. “I saw him!”
Buck frowned. “Me, too.” His flashlight beam climbed the solid wall, at least a story and a half high. “Damned if I know how he got out of here.”
“Reindeer?”
Buck turned to me, about to make some equally sarcastic remark, and then stopped, listening. I heard it, too. For a moment we just stared at each other, and then, slowly, raised our eyes to the sky, looking for the source of the sound that simply
Similar Books
