Broken Trails (44 page)

As they snapped up the white fish, she looked out over the scenery, glad it was daylight with good visibility. The sky held a hefty dose of cloud cover, but there were occasional bald spots of blue. Scotch was right; it was a good view. In fact, Lainey thought she could see a musher on the ice in the distance. She got out her camera and took a photograph, then caught one of her dogs resting and watching her. Putting it away, she pulled the snow hook.

"Let's go."

They remained on the ridge for about a mile and dropped down into a valley. There were no trees here, and Lainey missed them. Another incline towered before her, and she urged the dogs onward and upward. This climb was shorter in length than the last, but a little steeper. The trail had been used recently, the only indication that someone had left Elim before her. At least she would not have to pack it down for her dogs.

It topped out on a saddle called Little McKinley. From here she saw the next checkpoint on a rocky peninsula. Lainey had to get another picture and stopped her team long enough to accommodate her obsession.

The down slope was more difficult than the climb. As they began the run, she only braked enough to keep the sled from running up her wheel dogs' butts. At the first turn, however, she realized how fast she was going when the sled nearly tipped over. Shades of the Dalzell Gorge came to mind, and she stomped on the brakes and brake pad to force the dogs to a crawl. It was well she did. The next three or four miles turned out to be precarious ones as she fought twisting trails, glare ice, side hills and even bare ground. Eventually the trail leveled out and they continued on a gentle decline into a creek valley and toward the sea. Again they dropped onto the ice, this time in full view of Golovin. The trail here was good and solid and they made excellent time along the bay and up onto the peninsula.

There appeared to be no official checkpoint, at least none that Lainey could see. She mushed the team right into the center of town, stopping at an Iditarod sign. An old fellow came out of a building, zipping up his parka, a clipboard under his arm.

"Welcome to Golovin," he said. "I've got your time in at ten fifty-three AM and thirty-two seconds."

Just under two hours. And White Mountain was only eighteen miles further on. Lainey signed in.

"If you want to stay, I can guide you to Semko's back yard," the man said. "He's down the street a bit to the left."

Smiling, Lainey looked at her team. None had laid down, letting her know that she could probably push them on a little further with no repercussions. "What do you think, guys? Take a nap or go home?"

All the dogs had heard 'go home' in the course of their training. It indicated they were almost finished and heading for the kennel for food and rest. Scotch had told her to use the command sparingly on the race trail. Ultimately, it was a fake out to keep the dogs moving that extra little bit toward their destination. If used too often, the team would know it for a lie and not give her the added energy to reach her goal.

Chibee and Montana yipped and the others shook themselves, tails wagging.

"I think that answers that question," Lainey said to the checker. "Let me snack them and check out."

She gave them each a chunk of moose liver and a quick examination of their paws and wrists. It was somewhat underhanded to trick them like this, but it would be foolish to take a break here and then be required to take a mandatory eight hour break a couple of hours down the trail. Lainey knew anyone coming behind her would do the same.

In ten minutes, she was mushing out of Golovin.

This section of the trail was smooth sailing. Even with it nearing noon and heating up, the dogs had an easy run along a straight and well-established path. The trail was so even, it took some time for her to realize they had left the sea ice behind and were working up a river valley. They soon began a gentle series of climbs and drops, edging further along the river as they went. Eventually the trail swung to the right and Lainey saw the town of White Mountain on the river bank.

Trail markers guided her to the checkpoint right on the bank of the Fish River beneath town. She checked in a little after one in the afternoon. Her team had run for a full eight hour stretch and seemed in good spirits. At least they were not as tired as they had been on the last monster crossing. Still, they promptly snuggled into their straw beds after a good lunch.

Lainey was as tired as they were, though the added promise of seeing the end of her journey kept her energized. She gathered wet gear and her sleeping bag. The checkpoint building was a couple of blocks away, just like in Koyuk. There she had slept outdoors to evade pursuit by other mushers. Here it made no difference as everyone checking in at White Mountain was required to cool their heels for eight hours. Times in and out were publicly posted, and no one could cut their time short to get a jump on the competition.

The building was a combination city hall and library that boasted a kitchen. Several people lounged about, some sleeping in corners as they awaited their departure. As much as Lainey wanted to join them, she trudged toward an area draped with clothesline and hung dog booties and a pair of boot liners to dry.

"I'm whipping up fried egg sandwiches," a familiar voice said. "You want one?"

Lainey spun around. "Ben?"

Strauss grinned at her, a spatula in one hand. "Does that mean yes?"

"Yes!" She gave him a hug, not surprised to find tears in her eyes. God, she needed sleep. Hastily wiping her nose some tissue she pulled from her pocket, she released him. "I'm glad to see you."

"Ditto that," he said, waving her toward the kitchen.

Lainey tossed her sleeping bag under a table and sat down. "How long have you been here?"

"Came in yesterday afternoon once we figured out you were going to be here soon."

He cracked an egg into a frying pan, his back to her. Another volunteer worked at a counter, slathering mayonnaise on slices of bread. Besides Lainey there were two other mushers waiting to eat. One drowsed in his chair and the other nursed a cup of coffee in silence. Neither looked any more alert than she felt.

"Has Scotch made it in, yet? I haven't had time to check the statistics."

Strauss turned and smiled at her. "She sure did. Came in yesterday. Third place! And it was a damned close call, too."

Lainey wanted to get up and dance but could not dredge up the energy. Instead she kicked off her boots and sighed. "That's fantastic! How close a call are we talking about?"

The sound of sizzling egg filled the kitchen and Strauss turned back to his pan. "Well, Dave Creavey took first, of course. He had a two hour lead when he got here. Jon Waters and Drew Owens both pulled in before Scotch. She had to make up some good time to pass either of them."

He flipped an egg and Lainey's good mood rapidly shifted to impatience. "Well?" she urged.

Strauss shrugged. "Well," he repeated, "Waters came in second, but it was neck and neck with Owens and Scotch. You should have seen the excitement at the finish line! Man, they were screaming and yelling so loud, I couldn't even hear the dogs barking."

Lainey did not have to imagine it; she had been witness to a similar occurrence the previous year. Considering this was for the third place position, it was easy for her to conceive how much of a hullabaloo it must have been. She remembered Drew Owens eye balling Scotch back in the first days of the race.

"Anyway, at the last minute, Scotch's dogs put on an extra burst of speed and gave her a near photo finish. She couldn't have been more than two feet ahead of Owens." Strauss slapped a fried egg onto one of the prepared sandwiches. "It took the judges about fifteen minutes to finalize their decision, but they called it for Scotch."

"She's going to win that someday," one of the mushers said. "Mark my words."

"I know," Lainey agreed, pleased for her friend's success. "I hope I'm there to see it, too."

Strauss delivered a plate to her, an alert expression on his face. "Think you will be?"

She gazed levelly at him. "Yeah, I think I will."

He nodded in acceptance. "Eat up," he said, returning to the stove and starting another egg.

Lainey knew they would have to have a long talk in the near future, but not until the race was over and she and Scotch had time to figure out what they were going to do with their lives. Not wanting to dwell on it, she ate her lunch and followed the conversation over her head as the musher and Strauss continued to chat.

When she was finished, she stood and stretched. "I'm going to catch some sleep."

"Well, you might want to wait a little longer for that," Strauss said, finally sitting down to eat himself. He pulled a piece of paper out of his pocket and handed it to her. "There's a phone in the other room. You're supposed to call that number."

She gave him a suspicious look. "Is this who I think it's from?"

He considered a moment, chewing. "Tall, blonde and tired?"

"Yeeeeess."

"Yup, that's who it's from."

Lainey smacked him on the shoulder. "You should have given this to me the minute I walked in the door!" She spun around and headed for the phone.

"Uh uh," he said to her back. "I was ordered to make sure you ate first."

She found the phone. A sign next to it indicated all mushers were allowed only fifteen minutes. Here was the nerve center of the checkpoint. The statistics board hung on one wall and a white board beside it had the list of finishers. Scotch's name was the third on the list, her time less than three seconds different from Owens.

A ham radio set up hulked on one of the tables, manned by a . . . woman. Lainey smiled at the word play and gave the operator a nod. She received one in return, the woman hardly pausing in her discussion over the air waves.

Lainey's hand shook as she dialed the number on the paper. She felt ten kinds of fool for being so nervous. This was Scotch, for crissakes! They had been living together for months! There was no reason to be so skittish.

As she listened the line ringing on the other end, she swallowed hard.

CHAPTER FORTY-NINE

"HELLO?" AN UNFAMILIAR voice said.

Lainey frowned in confusion. Strauss did say this was the number for Scotch, right? "I'm looking for Scotch Fuller?" she asked, chewing her lower lip. Did she dial the number wrong?

"Is this Lainey?" the woman asked. She sounded as if she was smiling. Before Lainey could answer, she said, "Hold on, I'll go get her."

It had to be Beth or the unnamed roommate. At least she knew the number was right. Lainey sat on a folding chair and leaned her elbows on her knees. Even with the promise of hearing Scotch's voice her body had other ideas; she alternated between shaky with nerves and lethargic from fatigue. She yawned widely and scowled at the floor. A full eight hours here gave her plenty of time for a nap. Waiting a little longer to sleep would not kill her.

"Hello?"

Lainey's petulant expression washed away at the sound of Scotch. "Hi there. Congratulations on third place."

"Thanks. How are you going?"

"Right now? I'm doing fantastic." Lainey wiped tears from her eyes before they could fall. "I miss you so much."

Scotch's tone was warm and understanding. "I miss you, too. What time did you check in to White Mountain?"

Lainey took a deep breath, forcing herself to focus on the race rather than her seesawing emotions. "A quarter after one, give or take. Ben just fed me and gave me your number. When we're done, I'll take a nap."

"How are the dogs doing? I saw you've dropped a few. Anything serious?"

She spent the next few minutes discussing her experience of the race, how her team had managed, and which dogs were dropped for what reasons. Talking shop served to ground her flighty emotions, and she soon lost the urge to cry.

"You've still got His Highness?" Scotch asked in surprise.

Lainey's tone was smug. "Yup. Not only that, but he kissed me."

"Liar."

Her smile widened, knowing Scotch was not calling the occurrence into question. "Yeah, he did, and I've got thirteen furry witnesses to the fact."

"I'll bet Kaara was jealous."

"Oddly enough, she didn't seem to be."

"Well, I am. That mutt better steer clear once I get you here."

Lainey's grin became a shy one and she lowered her voice so the radio operator would not overhear. "I think that can be arranged. Don't tell him, but I prefer your kisses to his any day." Scotch's laugh warmed her to her toes.

"That's not saying much, Lainey," Scotch said, still chuckling. "Bon's kisses are better than a dog's."

"Yours are way better than a three year old's," Lainey assured her.

"Well, that's a load off my mind."

It was her turn to laugh. "I can't wait to see you again."

"I know. I feel the same." Pause. "If you're going to get any sleep, we need to hang up."

Lainey frowned again, toeing the floor with her sock. "I know--"

Her voice trailed off into a shared silence that Scotch finally broke. "I love you, Lainey Hughes."

Feeling as if she were going to burst, Lainey said, "I love you, Scotch Fuller."

"Now hang up the phone and go get some sleep, baby. You'll be here by tomorrow morning."

"Yes, ma'am." Lainey wiped at her quickly returning tears. "I'll see you tomorrow."

"Tomorrow."

She stood and reluctantly hung the receiver on the cradle. Her hand remained on the phone for the longest time, not wanting to lose even that tenuous connection with Scotch.

"You all right?"

Lainey looked up to see Strauss standing in the doorway, his gentle smile contrasting with the concerned lines on his brow. The desire to weep overwhelmed her and she stepped into his embrace and cried.

She had no idea how much time passed as she vented her exhaustion, worry and relief. There had been a vague sensation of movement, and when she became aware of her surroundings once more, she found herself on a couch with Strauss holding her. Embarrassed, her chest feeling hollow and her outrageous mood swings alleviated, she pulled away from him. He offered her tissue which she accepted, wiping her face and blowing her nose.