Hope In Every Raindrop (15 page)

Sure enough, there was. 

Towards the entrance of the barn was a pile of fresh two by fours left over from building the top rail of the new dog pens. Unfortunately, there were two problems—they were more than twenty feet from him, and he had never taught King a word that was remotely close to two by four or timber. Still, he had to try.

King was lying next to Kyle, panting from the heat.

"King," Kyle said slowly, making sure he had eye contact with him.

King was already staring straight at Kyle, but at the sound of his words he drew in his tongue and closed his mouth, waiting for the next command.

Kyle held up his hand and formed the number five, then closed it into a fist grabbing at the air. Then he pointed directly at the stack of lumber and again made the hand gesture for retrieve.

Retrieve the timber.

King slowly turned, knowing there had been a command given, but unsure of exactly what it was. He trotted towards the entrance of the barn directly next to the two by fours, turned, and sat down.

This time, Kyle pointed with his right hand towards the wood and used his left hand to make the symbol for retrieve. 

King moved to his right and scented the ground in front of the two by fours, then began to lift his nose to them as well.

That's it, boy.

He licked the base of one near a small knot in the pine, and then he opened his mouth and bit down on the two by four gingerly. As King began to pull the piece of wood towards him, a pile of burning shingles fell to the ground. King juked left, letting the pile fall beside him, then grabbed a board and began to drag it towards Kyle.

Kyle smiled in relief, until another chunk of the ceiling crashed to the floor about thirty feet away from him—right next to King, who dropped the two by four and darted out of the barn.

Kyle covered his face with this hands, feeling the ash and soot on his hot skin.
This isn’t going to work.

Part of him wanted to give up. His eyes were burning, his lungs were deprived of oxygen, and he was pinned to the ground. He looked over at Katie lying lifeless in the sled.

I can’t give up.

Another piece of timber fell next to his shoulder, and Kyle jolted to the right. As he turned back, though, he realized it was King. With the two by four.

He pushed it alongside his right leg and slightly underneath one of the beams that pinned him. There was just enough room to turn the board on its side, which would make the lever much stronger and allow Kyle to push with more force.

Something didn't feel right, though. The timber was too light as Kyle pushed it in place. As soon as he lifted one end up against the fallen beam, it snapped. Then it dawned on Kyle—the heat had dried out the wood.

Kyle threw the board down and let his head fall back to the ground. As he looked up at Katie, he could see the fire behind her spreading quickly through the stalls. The hay scattered through the pens, only adding to the gray powdered smoke.

He looked back down at his legs and struggled furiously. At first he felt his legs move slightly, but then some of the boards gave way and caved in around the free space that he had just created, pinning him even more tightly.

Kyle groaned and tried again, fighting to pull his legs free until it felt like he might dislocate his knee. It was no use.

He looked over at Katie, still motionless on the sled. He thought about the first time he’d seen her—how impossible she’d been from the start. All those questions. There was something about her, though. He’d done everything he could to hide it, knowing that she was leaving—that a girl like her would never have any real interest in someone like him.

As Kyle laid there ready to give up, he saw something in his periphery. At first he’d missed it, but as his thoughts caught up he jerked his head around until he was staring at an empty harness lying on the ground. His eyes followed the harness across the floor to the three others still banded neatly together. One must have fallen free during the fire.

A breeze of cool air swept through the barn as several drops of rain started to fall around him. There was still hope.

Chapter 27

"Focus," Kyle said to King after he hooked the final latch on the harness.

It meant,
Look at me
. Ignore everything around you. Forget about the fire, the heat, the smoke. Forget about the night breeze only a trot away or the timbers that crashed to the floor. 
Focus.

Kyle gave King the hand symbol for harness, using his index finger to draw a circle in the air. It was a signal King had seen a thousand times, and he didn’t hesitate to retrieve the harness. Most sled dogs weren’t trained for simple tasks like this. They were trained to run. Trained to win. But Kyle trained them to do so much more. He trained them to survive.

King dropped the harness on the ground next to Kyle. It was a struggle to clasp the harness around King’s back without sending a searing pain down Kyle’s pinned legs. But after several seconds, Kyle heard the unforgettable click as the clasp locked into place. King had no collar on, so Kyle was only able to connect the tug line to the harness.

Then he pulled on King’s harness until he was face to face with his old friend. "I need you to do something," Kyle said, talking to King as if he understood every single word.

"I need you to do something that will be hard. But I need you to do it."

King gazed intently at Kyle, not moving, not blinking. His eyes were so still Kyle could barely see them for all the dark fur.

Kyle gave the initial command to King. A command he had given thousands of times over the years.

"Line out."

King walked to the front of the sled until the tow line was full of tension. Then he looked back at Kyle and waited.

Kyle had been so busy trying to find a way to free his legs that he hadn't noticed how quickly the fire had spread. Three sides of the barn were burning orange and red. The closest vertical pole next to him was black with char and he could hear the wood crackle and pop all around him. 

As King sat there, Kyle thought about the reality of what he was asking King to do. The wooden sled—really more a wagon than a sled—was primarily built of southern pine on a hollow steel frame. It normally sat on four metal spools that Kyle had fashioned into wheels. With no load, the entire assembly probably weighed seventy-five pounds. 

During the occasional trip to the store, a small team of dogs might pull the sled plus another twenty-five pounds of dog food and miscellaneous supplies for the barn. Several of the larger wheel dogs alone had pulled lighter loads during training, but it was seldom. There was no sense in training a single dog to pull that much weight when an entire team of fourteen to fifteen dogs would pull no more than four hundred pounds total—or about thirty pounds each.

King was strong, but as Kyle stared back at him he began to think of how old he looked. His pure black coat was tinged with gray and white fur around his nose, mouth, and eyes. The sheen of his coat had dulled a bit. His eyes looked tired and aged. But Kyle also saw something else. Past the rising panic, beyond the smoke and flames. He saw his friend.

King pawed at him, as if to say,
Let’s do this
.

A deafening crack broke through Kyle's thoughts as the corner pole supporting the other end of the loft collapsed. It fell away from Kyle, which at first he thought was a good thing—until the top end of the pole smashed right through the side of the barn.

King jumped and jerked as the pole landed, trying to throw the harness free.

A gust of cold night air mixed with near-horizontal rain came rushing in. For a moment the heat seemed to subside. Then suddenly the fire exploded across the roof, as if someone had turned a temperature knob all the way to high.

Kyle shielded his face as the flames licked at the ceiling.

Without any more hesitation, Kyle gave the simplest command he had for the dogs.

"Lead on,” he said between coughs.

King snapped to attention and turned towards the open barn door. The cable attached to the harness tightened, as did the nylon straps wrapped around King's shoulders and stomach. His paws dug into the bare floor and the sled creaked, but it didn't budge.

King looked back at Kyle a little confused, but Kyle had no answers to offer. With the cart on four wheels, this may have been possible after breaking the initial friction. But with one wheel broken and an edge in the dirt, each move King made was like starting over.

"Lead on,” Kyle said again, with more urgency.

Another booming crack echoed through the barn as the door farthest from them fell flat to the ground. The hinges were still intact, but the wood around them was burned straight through.

King backed up two steps and let some slack into the taut line. He gathered as much momentum as he could and lunged forward as Mother Nature continued to chew through the barn.

The back right of the sled, where the wheel had broken off, moved slightly, creating a small crack in the muddy ground a couple inches long.

King's front paws dug furiously, his back paws firm against the ground.

Kyle shouted, "Lead on!"

King recoiled, again letting some slack in the line, and then burst forward with a fierce growl. He barked and yipped loudly, using the full range of his vocal cords. The cart lurched forward again, but was only a foot farther than where it started. They were still twenty feet from the opening.

As King was about to let up Kyle screamed, "Lead on!"

King shook his head to the left towards Kyle, baring his teeth. He backed off the line yet again as he lowered all his weight onto his thick hind legs and jumped forward. The cable tightened and the cart barely moved, but King instantly repeated the motion again. And again. And again. He didn't stop for what seemed like hours to Kyle, as he literally dragged the cart inch by inch across the floor.

King’s coat was matted against his body in ash and rain. The ground behind him was a battlefield of blood and grime, his right front paw bleeding from a piece of splintered wood. His breath was strained, each pull of the cart knocking all the wind from him. But as Kyle watched, King did not once let up.

He lunged forward biting at the air, defying the dead weight of the dragging cart. Daring it not to obey his efforts. He was the lead dog. This was his sled. And while Kyle would have refused the use of the term, this was his master.

And suddenly, King was out the door with Katie still in the back of the sled. A couple more feet and she would be clear. The cool air was upon him, the heat dissipating, but his master called out one last time.

"Lead on, King! Lead on!"

Kyle watched the straps tighten again around King, knowing his muscles were beat, if not broken. King was panting hard and yet somehow he summoned more strength than Kyle ever thought possible. He lunged forward and nearly broke into a run, dragging the cart almost five feet in one single motion.

Kyle gave King the command to stop as he looked out towards him.

Then, suddenly Kyle heard screaming.

Katie?

No, it was a male voice. He couldn't make out the words. His eyes burned so badly he could hardly open them. But he knew it must be Doc. As Doc reached the door, a huge section of the roof came tumbling down. The majority of the timbers missed Kyle, but pieces bounced off his stomach and arms as he shielded his eyes. The dust and smoke combined to make it nearly impossible to see.

As he turned his head back to the entrance, the last image he saw was that of King collapsing.

And there was darkness again.

Chapter 28

Katie rolled over on the couch, pulling her arm from underneath her, and tried to shake the sleep from it. She opened and closed her hand several times as she felt the needle-like sensation run down her forearm and shoulder.

When she opened her eyes, she didn't see the morning sun spilling in through the white curtains of the cottage. Instead, she saw Doc sitting across from her in a rocking chair with Belle and the pups on the floor by his side. 

At just a few days old they were so tiny, curled up next to their mother for warmth. None of them had even opened their eyes yet. It wasn't until she heard Doc's voice that Katie began to remember.

"How are you feeling?" he asked.

She wanted to answer, to let him know she was fine even though her head was throbbing, her ribs ached, and her shoulder felt like it had been hit by a truck. She could only think of one thing, though.

"Where's Kyle? We have to help Kyle." Panicked, she nearly fell off the sofa as she tried to sit up.

She had startled Belle, who looked back at her with the eyes of a worried mother.

"Miss Price, please don't try to get up," Doc said as he tried to push her gently back down. "You're in no condition for that right now."

"But Kyle," she said again.

"Kyle will be fine. He's asleep in the other room."

"What about…the fire...and…the barn. And King. I couldn’t find King."

"Everybody is fine," Doc said. "The fire is taken care of, the barn is fine, and the dogs are fine. But you, Miss, need to get some rest. You bumped your noggin pretty hard."

She couldn't remember. The only thing she could remember was the fire. The heat. The loud crackling noises as it spread throughout the barn. The thick plume of smoke that kept getting darker and darker as it rose upwards in the barn. One minute she was standing on the loft, the next she was waking up on the couch. There was no in between.

Doc pulled out a small flashlight as Katie lay back down, and moved it from eye to eye.

"You have a mild concussion. But you'll be fine with a little food and some rest." 

Katie knew something was wrong, but her head still throbbed and felt so heavy, even lying on the pillow. She closed her eyes with Doc still kneeling by her side. As she let exhaustion drag her back to sleep, several images returned to her memory. The only one she could focus on was Doc kneeling beside her. But it wasn't her he was looking over. It was King.