Broken Trails (20 page)

More people filtered into the room, and she idly watched them, her mind still on her team.

Everyone else seemed to be working up fine. She had six wheel dogs to choose from. Rye had suggested she keep four of them. Some parts of the trail held steep inclines and the Farewell Burn was notorious for abrupt changes. She would need the extra muscle. Jonah and Aegis were definitely going. Both had finished the Iditarod with Scotch, Jonah for three years running. His experience on the trail would be very welcome.

Of her seven team dogs - those animals who had not shown aptitude for leadership or had the extra strength needed for a wheel dog - she had serious misgivings about Dablo. He was Trace's brother, twin to him right down to the bright blue eyes. That was where the resemblance ended, however. Trace seemed to be the go-getter in his line. More times than Lainey could count, she saw Dablo's tug line slackening. He ran with the team, letting the others do the work, not pulling his weight. Occasionally, she could urge him into taking the load, but only when he knew they were heading back to the kennel for dinner.

"Anybody sitting here?"

Lainey looked up at a young man standing by the chair next to her. "No. Go ahead."

He grinned his thanks and draped his jacket over the chair back before sitting down. Turning toward her, he offered his hand. "Roman Spencer, Iditarod rookie."

"Lainey Hughes, the same," she said, smiling.

Spencer cocked his head. "Lainey Hughes? The reporter for that magazine?"

"Yeah, that would be me. My checkered reputation precedes me." She shrugged ruefully. "And you? Spencer sounds familiar."

He blushed. "My dad and older brother are Iditarod veterans," he said.

"Ah. Looks like I've got some healthy competition then."

His skin darkened further, but he was saved from responding by the return of Scotch.

"Hey, Roman! Good to see you. How's your dad?"

Their conversation fell into the normal topics for mushers - one that Lainey was quite familiar with after six months - namely dogs, trails, and races. Scotch sat in her first row chair, straddling it to face them. She had worn a powder blue cable knit sweater and jeans, her ever-present baseball cap sat on the table behind her. The discussion drew a couple of other rookies to sit close, throwing in their questions and comments.

Lainey was content to watch as Scotch held court. Thoughts of dog teams and races faded away as she basked in the fervor her friend felt for her subject. Scotch's light blue eyes sparkled with delight at something someone said. When she looked at Lainey, she gave a wink, her gaze reflecting something else entirely. Lainey tried not to sigh like a schoolgirl, and was pleased no one seemed to have noticed the interaction.

The talk was interrupted by Helen Fuller coming to her seat. Looking around the room, Lainey saw it was packed, all the tables full and most of the chairs in the back occupied. These were definitely not all rookies. She recognized some of the faces from the race sign up in June as well as the awards banquet in March.

The president of the Iditarod racing committee took the stage and stood at the podium. Clearing his throat, he said, "Well, everybody, welcome to the mandatory rookies meeting." There was a smattering of applause, and his thick white mustache twitched in a combination of embarrassment and pleasure. "Well, we've got a lot of ground to cover, so let's get started."

Lainey put aside her gentle desire for Scotch and set up her iPod as last year's winner took over the podium. She caught an envious look from Roman at the recording instrument, and gave him a crooked grin. Then she focused on the ramshackle man on the stage as he explained the realities of running the Iditarod trail.

"Well, what'd you think?" Howry asked as they stepped outside.

Lainey juggled her notes and camera, and whistled. "I learned a lot." Scotch came up behind her and she looked over her shoulder at the woman. "I mean, you've taught me a hell of a lot about how to care for the dogs and get them to want the same things I do, but not much about the trail itself. Or running long distances. Or the true importance of pacing. Or any of a lot of other things."

Scotch reached for Lainey's paperwork with a smile. "You have to learn to walk before you can run," she said. "Now that you've gotten the basics down, we can start branching out into other areas. In fact, I've made arrangements next week for a road trip with the dogs. It'll be good to get them in an area they don't see often; different trails, different smells. And once we increase their mileage, you'll learn more about long distance running and pacing."

"You're doing about forty miles a day now," Howry said. "When do you increase the mileage?"

"This month," Rye answered, joining them. "Lainey's got qualifying races in January and February, and she needs to be ready for them."

"We'll be pushing for seventy miles a day and running larger teams by Christmas. It's going to be hectic. Rye and Irish are prepping for the Two Rivers Solstice junior races, too." Scotch grinned. "This is the month from hell," she told Howry. "The pressure's starting to turn on, and tempers are going to be short."

"Well, until you become a prima donna and start throwing tantrums, how about I buy dinner?" Howry asked.

"You're on," Lainey said.

"Let me go get Mom." Rye turned back to the hotel.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

January

LAINEY CLIMBED OUT of the vehicle, feeling exhausted and exuberant. The dogs in the yard greeted her, and her team responded with just as much excitement from inside the dog truck. On the deck, Thom held Bon in his arms and Miguel stood beside him.

The second dog truck pulled up, disgorging its occupants, and Thom called, "Well, rookie, how'd you do?"

"Twelfth place!" Howry yelled from the other truck.

"And she's officially finished one qualifying race for the Iditarod," Helen added. She shut the truck door and went up the steps, silencing Bon's cries of "Mama!" by taking him from his father.

"One down, one to go," Scotch said, throwing her arm around Lainey's shoulders.

Lainey blushed at the public familiarity from her friend, but did not move away. They had spent the last week in Bethel, Alaska, either sleeping in the living room of a family friend or out on the race trail. Quiet moments alone had been hard to come by and she craved the contact. "Scotch did better," she said. "She placed third."

Thom trotted down from the deck, Miguel on his heels, and gave them both a hug. "Third place? Fantastic! What was the purse?"

"Ten grand." Scotch proudly withdrew a check and handed it to her father.

Miguel whooped in congratulations, and Scotch turned bright red. Her smile split her face as he clapped her on the back.

Thom gave both women another rough hug. "You two must be exhausted. Get on to your cabin and catch some sleep. We'll take care of the dogs."

"Thanks, Dad." Scotch released him and Lainey, returning to her truck for her gear.

Lainey drew her winning check from her pocket. It was decidedly less than ten thousand dollars, but still a hefty sum. She handed it to Thom. "Here. I want you to have this, too."

He did not take the check. "Oh, Lainey, I can't do that. You paid your own entry fee, and won that money fair and square."

"That's right, I did. So I get a say on where it goes." She raised an eyebrow. "Consider it a donation to the kennel. You've all worked so hard to make me feel welcome and get me trained for this. I'd never have done it without your support and encouragement."

Thom looked tempted but still made no move to accept the money. "You contracted for the training and team; you're only getting what the magazine paid for to begin with."

Lainey thrust it closer to him. "Fine, I'm sponsoring Rye for the Yukon 300. How's that?"

He blinked, a grin crossing his face. "I'll let him know who to acknowledge," he said, finally taking the check from her.

"Thanks." Unable to help herself, she stood on tip toe and delivered a kiss to his bearded cheek.

"No, thank you, Lainey Hughes," he said, turning as beet red as his daughter only moments ago.

"You coming or what?" Scotch asked.

"Yeah." Lainey winked at Thom before getting her bag from the truck, and together they walked toward the trail leading home.

It was cold inside the cabin, so they kept their parkas on as they set about lighting the fires and lanterns. While Scotch worked at the hearth, Lainey built a fire in the wood stove to start a pot of water. Soon the interior warmed up enough that they were able to shed their outer layers. Not long later they sat together on the couch, sock covered feet propped on the coffee table, and mugs of hot chocolate in hand.

"That was fun," Lainey said.

"Yeah, you did pretty good for being from Outside."

Lainey grinned and looked at Scotch. "I had an excellent teacher."

"I totally agree."

She laughed and kissed Scotch, losing herself to the gentle caress. Long moments passed as the reacquainted themselves with one another, drinks forgotten as they relaxed together. Eventually the kiss ended, and Lainey snuggled against Scotch, a luxuriant smile on her face. "I missed that."

"Me, too."

They lounged on the couch, the heat from the fire easing the last of the tension from Lainey's sore muscles.

"I heard you tell Rye you fell near Bogus Creek."

Lainey, whose eyes had drooped closed, grunted lethargically. "Yeah. You saw the overflow?" she asked, referring to the layer of standing water along the frozen creek bed.

"Yup."

"Coming up out of that I missed the trail by a few feet. The sled went on its side."

"Ate some snow?"

Her expression sour, she nodded. "About ten feet of it before the dogs stopped."

Scotch's voice held a note of superiority. "Well, you are a rookie."

Lainey's weariness rushed away at the insult. "A rookie, huh?" she demanded, sitting up. Before Scotch could reply, Lainey had taken their cups and set both on the table. Her fingers unerringly found the woman's ribs, and she tickled her. "I seem to remember you eating snow a few weeks ago in that sprint in Wasilla!"

Scotch recoiled from Lainey, curling her long limbs to avoid the attack, laughing. "No! That wasn't me. That was someone else. Stop!"

"Hah! Don got photos. Admit it or I'll make sure the next article Cognizance runs will have your snow covered butt plastered all over it."

"All right! All right! I admit it!" Lainey stopped tickling and Scotch slumped in relief.

She sprawled across the couch with Lainey on top of her. As she caught her breath, they adjusted themselves into a more comfortable position.

"That was mean."

Lainey grinned, eyes closed. "Journalism is a brutal world, my dear. You've got to learn to swim with the sharks."

Beneath her, Scotch chuckled and yawned. "I think I'm going to fall asleep right here."

"Nothing wrong with that," Lainey murmured. She sighed in pleasure as Scotch wrapped her arms around her, turning until they lay on their sides.

"That's good, because I don't think I can move any more."

"Shhh, go to sleep," Lainey whispered.

The following afternoon Scotch and Lainey wandered down the path, hand in hand.

"I don't know how you didn't get a crick in your neck, sleeping on the couch like that."

Scotch laughed and squeezed her hand. "I could say the same about you."

"I had a nice soft pillow," Lainey said, a smile on her face. They continued walking. "I can't believe we slept so late. Everybody's going to be ticked off that we didn't feed the dogs this morning."

"Naw. You always get a day off after a big race. Next month it'll be you and Rye lounging about while the rest of us slave away."

They rounded a bend in the path, coming into sight of the yard. Lainey tried to release Scotch's hand, offering discretion in dealing with her family, but Scotch held tight and winked at her.

They had never discussed their relationship beyond the need to concentrate on the Iditarod. The longer things went, the less likely it seemed that Scotch was only now realizing her sexual orientation. Nothing Lainey said or did startled Scotch; no reference to obvious gay topics befuddled her, no flirtatious remark or action caused more than the expected blush of anticipation. When they were out among people, which was seldom due to the nature of their training, Scotch did seem more interested in watching women than men, but she approached both with the same confident skill.

Training the dogs was a full time adventure, and Lainey had found little time to open a conversation on Scotch's experiences with women. When the time did present itself, as it had last night, she was more inclined to savor the moment than miss an opportunity to cuddle. She supposed that as soon as the Iditarod was over, the two of them would have to sit down and discuss things in detail. If they were to have more than just a fling, certain things had to be figured out.

Lainey wondered if Scotch had said anything to her parents. Neither seemed any more or less friendly with her, but surely one of them had figured out their daughter's friendship with her had grown a bit more intense. Did Scotch know she was a lesbian before Lainey came along? Did her parents know? The whole situation was confusing. Lainey had known women who were blatantly out of the closet; some had accepting families, but most did not. The Fullers did not fall into either category.

Howry came into view, pulling a plastic children's sled piled with packages. It had to weigh a lot, for he had removed his parka and was bent over in exertion. He spotted them and stopped. "About time you two got up. We've got a meat delivery out front. All hands on deck."

Scotch came to rigid attention and saluted him. "Yes, sir!"

He wiped sweat from his forehead and snorted at her. "Get going, you two. You've slacked enough today."

"But we haven't even had breakfast," Lainey complained to him, her words cut short as Scotch yanked her along.

"It's almost lunch time," she reminded Lainey, walking past the back deck and around the side of the main cabin. "And I seem to recall you having a toasted cheese sandwich an hour ago."