Broken Trails (29 page)

"You bet!"

"Come here often?" Howry asked after the man delivered Scotch's beverage.

"Once or twice," she said in an off-handed way, smiling when he laughed.

Strauss eyed Scotch. "You've gained a few places since the start of the race. Think you'll win?"

She chuckled through a mouthful of stew, swallowing before answering him. "We've got a long way to go before we think about that. The key is to gradually pull forward, not make a run for it in the first couple of days. Exhaust the dogs now and they'll have nothing to offer down the trail."

"Still, you're considered a contender this year," Howry said.

"Doesn't mean I'll make it."

"Is that modesty talking?" Strauss asked.

Scotch shook her head. "No, reality. I can have the best team, the best times, and the best weather, but anything can happen out there. Hell, if I bust my sled in the Farewell Burn and can't find a fix or alternative on the other side, I scratch. If the weather takes a turn for the worse and blizzard conditions make visibility zero, I could easily get lost off the trail. Lots of things can happen that I have no control over."

"Why do you do it, if not to win?"

Lainey, curious to know the answer to that question, gave Strauss an intent look. Was he putting Scotch through her paces for Lainey's sake? Trying to draw Scotch out to measure her character and integrity, to make sure she was good enough for Lainey? For his part, Strauss ignored her, though no doubt knew what she was thinking. Lainey puzzled over a combined sense of pleasure at his paternal attempt and annoyance with his behavior. Who did he think he was, her father? He had no right to judge her choice of partner.

The conversation continued without her, and Lainey hastened to catch up.

"Why climb Mt. Everest? Why go on safari to hunt lions or rhinos? Why get up every morning?" Scotch said, her food forgotten. "It's a challenge. Out here my survival depends on me and my actions. It's difficult sometimes, yes, but satisfying on levels you can't even imagine."

Strauss watched her for a long moment. "So winning doesn't matter?"

Scotch's serious demeanor faded. "Didn't say that," she said, winking at him.

Lainey joined the others in laughter. That easy confidence Scotch held radiated around the table, and Lainey drew it in like air. This was the key, this was the foundation of the self-assurance that had first drawn her to Scotch. Knowing the basis for it did not lessen her desire one whit, either.

Howry held up his beer. "To survival."

"And winning," Strauss added, lifting an iced tea.

Scotch and Lainey both chimed in. "To winning."

The indoor heat lulled her, and Lainey yawned hugely. "Sorry."

"No. You've got every reason to be tired," Strauss said, putting his glass down. "And still a long way to go."

"If I'm going to get any sleep, now is the time to do it." Lainey forced her feet back into damp liners and mukluks. She would definitely need to change them before catching a nap.

"Want company?" Strauss asked.

Lainey smiled at him, letting him know she understood his earlier ploy and felt no ill will. "Naw. You'll just have to turn around and come right back here."

He nodded. "We're staying here another night and flying into McGrath next."

"See you there." Lainey gathered up her outer clothing and headed out of the lodge. Her exit was met with a chorus from the people lounging around inside, wishing her luck. She waved and closed the door against the chill, feeling immensely better now that she was not overheated.

Drew Owens still drowsed on the bench. Lainey chuckled at him and stepped into the snow.

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

LAINEY DRAGGED HERSELF from her sleeping bag, reluctance in every bone. While the heat and food from the lodge had made her drowsy, once back at her sled she had difficulty falling asleep. A couple of teams remained frisky after their foray through Happy Valley, and their constant barking whenever a musher arrived or left roused her between fits of slumber. Sleeping out in the wilderness definitely had its benefits and she now regretted not blowing through the checkpoint.

She put on fresh socks and boot liners, shivering in the night chill as she stomped into her mukluks. On her way to the privy, she entertained herself with thoughts of feather beds, thick quilts, and roaring fires. By the time she returned, the exercise had warmed and woke her enough to get immediately to work.

The moose stew was still with her, so she did not cook herself a meal. Instead, as the dog food heated, she doubled up on her snack items. The extra banana breads, trail mix, jerky and pemmican would keep her going until the other side of the Dalzell Gorge. The next fifty miles would not be easy. Some said that the trail to Rohn was as bad as Happy Valley - the rough path simply took longer to travel.

Lainey quietly went through her team with their late night supper, waking each of them in turn with soft words and pettings. She was pleased to see them all eating well, a sign of continued good health. The dreaded kennel cough had not been spoken of among the other mushers; perhaps this would be a sickness free race. After another watering, she began the heating process all over at the cooker, drinking freshly brewed instant coffee from her thermos.

Another voice spoke nearby, and she looked over to see Scotch mirroring her tasks. She watched as the woman worked through her team, seeing the love and devotion the dogs gave her, seeing Scotch reflect the same back to the animals. Scotch had been wrong in the lodge. It was not just her abilities that she relied upon to survive. The dogs had everything to do with it, too. Scotch might be the alpha dog in the pack, but it was still a team effort.

Lainey quickly grabbed her camera and snapped off a couple of photos, catching Scotch in the act of bestowing attention on one of her dogs. The flashes attracted Scotch who looked up at her. Lainey waggled her camera with a not-so-apologetic grin for the intrusion. Scotch merely smiled and returned to her chores.

The second round of dog stew was finished, and Lainey dumped it into the cooler. She shucked her heavy mittens for two layers of rubber gloves over silk liners, stuffing hand warmers into the palms, and started down the line with ointment and booties.

"You ready to go?" Scotch asked.

"Yeah, just about. You?"

"Yup." Scotch looked over Lainey's lively team. "You're doing a great job with them."

Lainey's skin reddened, and she felt a foolish grin plaster itself across her face. "Thanks."

Scotch looked out over the dog parking area, scanning the surrounding darkness. Lights from the lodge and around the checkpoint were visible, and stars sparkled overhead. "Remember, we're going to be crossing a few ice bridges this leg. Don't stop on one. It might not be able to hold the weight. The temperatures have stayed pretty low, but that doesn't mean a whole lot."

She nodded, not liking the idea of taking a midnight swim in the dead of an Alaskan winter. "What if someone else has already broken through one? How will we follow the trail?"

"We'll figure that out if we get there. It's only a creek, not a river, so that'll make things a bit easier."

Lainey's concern was not allayed, but she did not argue. Surely they would not be penalized for going off the trail in search of a different crossing. "Okay," she said, placing her confidence in Scotch's experience. "Let's do it."

They finished breaking camp and urged their dogs toward the checkpoint. A couple of mushers, seeing Scotch make her move, decided to get going as well. They began rousing their dogs, glancing over their shoulders at Scotch or at their watches. Were these the ones who would give Scotch a run for her money? Would they be able to keep up with her? Lainey scanned her memory, putting grizzled faces to press release names and realized that this pair were long time veterans. She felt a swell of pride that Scotch, with her admittedly limited experience was causing such a stir with men who had been racing almost as long as she had been alive.

"Midnight, straight up," the checker told her as she initialed his paperwork. "Good luck. There's some mean winds blowing, so visibility may be shoddy."

"Thanks. That's good to know."

Again Scotch led the way. The trail immediately climbed toward the top of Rainy Pass. Once they passed this ridge, they would be mushing through the interior of Alaska, bracketed by mountain ranges through frozen tundra. Lainey shivered in anticipation. Overhead, eerie wisps of greens and blues sheeted across the sky, a colorful backdrop behind grand Denali which rose above them. She had a fleeting wish to see the view in daylight, but her thoughts turned back to the trail as Scotch began the descent.

The path twisted and contorted as it went, solid and well packed. Lainey barely kept up with the commands, the trail switching back and forth with hairpin turns, then abruptly plunging into narrow ravines. Her head lamp picked up sheer walls of snow and ice, boulders rushing toward her from murky darkness, and the wagging tails of her dogs as they surged forward in pleasure. She barely had time to force her heart out of her throat before the next danger whizzed forward and past, her belated responses to duck useless when the peril was quickly put behind her.

They hit the bottom of the gorge, the trail leveling out though it did not become less convoluted. Lainey used the more mellow ride to unclench her fingers from her handlebars. That had definitely lasted longer than the Happy Valley run. Despite earlier trepidations, she was glad they had taken the run at night. The trail had been scary enough with just a head lamp; taking the descent in daylight would have caused her heart failure.

Before she could relax completely, the trail began a steep climb, slowing her team. She hopped off the sled and helped push the cumbersome thing up the hill, and they broke out of the gorge onto tundra.

Lainey stepped back onto the runners, feeling wind whipping about her lower legs and brushing her face. Powdered snow apparently covered the ground, though she could not see it for the windswept blizzard. Lainey saw only the tails of her wheel dogs in the gloom, yet she easily located a six foot tripod trail marker coming up in the distance. Her visibility was obscured below her waist and she took in the sight of Scotch ahead, gliding through a cloud, pulled by unseen forces. She marveled at the eeriness, the sky illuminated by the Aurora Borealis, starlight flickering bright in the crisp cold sky, and shadowy lumps of hills bordering the shallow valley.

They continued to climb, moving from one valley into a more narrow one, the wind dying down to give Lainey better visibility. The trail crossed a river with standing water. As the team splashed through it, Lainey frowned. Heldig was bare pawed again, as well as a couple of other dogs. She would have to stop soon to take care of their feet before ice formed between their toes.

The climb steepened, the trail weaving between foliage and a frozen creek as it went. It opened up onto a frozen lake, and Lainey whistled to get Scotch's attention.

Calling the dogs to a halt, Lainey had a difficult moment stomping the snow hook into the icy surface. She grabbed a bag of frozen fish and snacked her team as she moved forward.

"We need to go over their paws," Scotch said, meeting Lainey halfway between their teams.

"That's what I was thinking. Heldig kicked off her booties miles ago."

"Let's get to it then. We don't have much farther to go in mileage, but we've got a potential rough road ahead."

Lainey returned to her team. The bitter cold nipped at her fingers when she removed her arctic mittens. She fumbled with the rubber gloves and stuffed her pockets with dog booties. Even those who still had them would need them replaced. She spent the next several minutes changing out booties, digging ice balls out from between canine toes, slathering ointment on pads, and recovering her dogs' feet with corduva booties. It took longer than she thought it would, because even those with booties had ice developing on their paws from the water they had run through.

"Passing!"

Startled, she looked up to see a musher's head lamp coming toward her. She gave the musher a wave, noting he was one of the pair hastily attempting to follow Scotch when they had left Rainy Pass checkpoint. She grinned and returned to her task, wondering if the man felt smug at catching Scotch so soon in the race. Was the other musher on his way, as well?

Finishing with the dogs, she gathered the wet booties and put them in a bag with all the other used ones that had not been lost on the trail. There was a laundromat in McGrath, and she planned on running a couple of loads of things through a dryer.

"You ready?" she called to Scotch.

"Yeah." The musher zipped up her sled bag and climbed onto the runners. "Let's go!" she called to the dogs.

Lainey's team hastened forward, not wanting to be left behind.

The trail fell into a steep decline that leveled out after a couple hundred feet. From there it traversed a timberline, following a creek as it zigzagged along. The winding path was a hectic one, worse than the one leaving Rainy Pass checkpoint. Lainey fought to remain upright as she hit patches of bare rock, uneven ruts, and sharp turns, the path tipping left then right. She kept a lot of weight on her drag mat, not wanting to run over Scotch ahead of her, fighting as hard as she to not spill her sled. It was a cross between a roller coaster and a bucking bronco, and Lainey white knuckled her way along, praying not to lose control.

Eventually the trail evened out, became narrower, and climbed further. Huge trees flanked her, and though she could not see in the darkness, she had a sense that the ground opened up to her right. Lainey balanced on the left runner to compensate, not certain if the trail would remain level or tilt downhill. Her head lamp picked up an approaching sign and she narrowed her eyes to catch a glimpse.

'Watch Your Ass.'

Lainey blinked. She saw Scotch literally disappear in front of her, her only warning of the coming drop. Then she was on the descent, her stomach swooping in response.

After a moment, she frowned. The down slope was steep, yes, but why the sign? The trail was well-packed and smoother than what she had already passed over. Her sled seemed to be dragging on the left, but she could not see a cause, leading her to believe there was damage from the rough patches she had gone through rather than a problem here. Were things supposed to be more difficult here? Was there something at the end of this descent she was supposed to be preparing for? She racked her brains for anything she had heard at the mushers' meeting, but came up empty.