Broken Trails (32 page)

The trail began to turn. Here and there, trees that had not met their demise in the Farewell Burn began to appear. Soon they were flickering around her as the trail led through them. Her thoughts began to float once more. As she enjoyed a particularly heated interlude with Scotch in front of the fireplace, the sled jerked, jolting her to the present as she grabbed the handlebars.

A blind turn had come up out of nowhere, Trace and Sholo easily bringing the team through it. Lainey's lack of preparation for the abrupt twist almost caused the sled to roll. Jonah, her wheel dog, spared her a single glance as if to ask what the hell she was doing before focusing back on his part of the job.

Adrenaline kicking in, Lainey's heart pounded at the unexpected obstacle. Her reflexes were slower from lack of sleep, and she watched her dogs take another sharp turn without understanding where they were going. By the time she arrived at the bend, she comprehended the problem and tried to compensate by leaning into the turn.

Too late.

The sled fell over, and she hung on for dear life as her dogs kept going. "Whoa!" she called before plowing into a snow drift. She shook snow from her face, glad she had the mask on to save her from getting a mouthful of the stuff. "Whoa!" The sled began to slow as the dogs did, but then there was a sudden mighty tug. It stopped so fast, that Lainey slid into the back of it with some force.

She lay there a moment, catching her breath. With slow, careful movements she peeled her hand from the handlebar and sat up. The sled was half on the trail, teetering on the snow bank she had just cut through. Snow covered her entire left side, and she began brushing it off, checking for damage to herself and her parka. Some had gotten into her sleeve and when she pulled off her hood, she felt the chill of it on her ear and neck. Grumbling, she cleaned herself up and attempted to stand.

Her knees were shaky and her ribs ached but other than that, she was in one piece. Now she looked at her team and saw why they had stopped so unexpectedly. When the sled had cut its furrow in the side of the trail, it continued in a straight line. The brush bow was lodged in a stand of young trees. It looked like the dogs tried to remain on the trail, but those on the left of the tug line were now in the timber instead of on the trail.

Lainey hastily moved forward to check the team, wincing as her muscles complained at the abuse. She first gave them all a cursory examination to make sure there were no life threatening issues like tangled neck lines or tree branches stabbing into them. Breathing a sigh of relief at the lack of such trauma, she took a closer look, treating each to an in-depth scrutiny as she massaged muscles and searched for bruising or bone damage. Tecumseh, one of her team dogs, whimpered as she checked him, and she hissed in concern. It looked like his harness had caused some bruising and one of his wrists was sore. His was the only injury, however, and she counted herself lucky.

The sled was not going anywhere soon, the brush bow thoroughly entangled with the trees and branches it had run into. First she had to get her dogs out of the mess. She snacked them first and then took each animal off the line, finding a tree to which to attach them. The first half of her string were in the clear, but partially blocking the trail. Lainey pulled Sholo and Trace to one side, the rest of the line following so that Montana, Meshindi, Bonaparte and Kaara were at least off the path. She tied Himitsu and Tecumseh to a tree on the other side, Chibee wriggled so much in excitement, Lainey was worried he would pick a fight with one of the others to rid himself of the excess energy. He got a tree all to himself and his running mate, Heldig, ended up with the previous two. Six more dogs later, the sled was divested of most its dog power.

Her trash talkers began bellowing, Lainey's early warning that someone was coming up on the trail. She grumbled to herself as she retrieved her axe. Perfect time for a gawker. Did people at car wrecks feel this way as traffic slowed to pass?

Other dogs answered hers, and soon a team pulled around the corner. The musher halted the dogs who playfully rolled in the snow to show off their superiority to her team. Drew Owens took off his goggles and looked at Lainey. She thought she detected a bit of concern at seeing her here in front of him.

"You all right?"

"Yeah, though one of the dogs might have gotten bruised."

He grimaced in commiseration. "Where's Scotch?"

"Up ahead. I lost sight of her before the BLM cabin." She felt a burble of amusement as his expression soured. "Where are the others?"

His lips twitched in a grin. "Probably just waking up."

"You skipped out on them," she said, smiling. "Impressive."

Owens gave a slight shrug. "They'll probably be along soon. You need any help?"

"No, I'm good." She gestured at the branches around the front of her sled. "I'll probably be back on the trail in twenty minutes."

"All right. See you at the next checkpoint." He put his goggles back on and ordered his dogs onward.

Lainey watched him go and turned back to the mess. Damned if she would still be out here when the rest of the convoy came through. She began cutting her sled free with a purpose.

Once she muscled the sled back onto the trail and hooked up her dogs again, she felt a little better. Tecumseh seemed to know his time was limited. When she released him from the tree, he immediately pulled her to his spot on the tug line, as if to say 'This is where I belong.' Lainey chewed her lip in debate, giving him another thorough massage. His shoulder was still an issue, but he was putting his full weight on his paws. Perhaps the damage was not as bad as she had initially surmised.

She decided to leave him there for the time being and keep a close eye on him.

Within minutes of getting started again, she arrived at Sullivan Creek. Open water rushed beneath a bridge and she urged the dogs across. From there the trail was easily marked by Scotch and Owens going before her. As she went, her head lamp picked up few markers, and she felt a guilty relief that she was not leading this traveling party. She would have gotten lost a number of times on this stretch of trail alone. What would happen when she truly was alone?

Tecumseh seemed to be doing well enough. He was not pulling with his usual alacrity, but at least he showed no limp. Considering how Lainey felt after the crash, she supposed he had worked his injuries out. After the exercise of chopping wood, Lainey's stiffness from the accident had eased, though her ribs still ached. She twisted a bit, wincing at the pain. It must have been a full ten minutes later that her lethargic brain remembered hand warmers for her side and ibuprofen for pain. Cursing at her stupidity, she got another juice pack and downed some pills.

She came upon the first manmade structures she had seen since the tent camp. The trail led up through the small cluster of buildings, leaving the river. To keep herself awake, she fumbled for her notes, squinting at the writing with her head lamp. By the time she located the name of the place, she was past. Salmon River fish camp. Twelve miles of smooth sailing to go.

From here the trail was easily seen. Despite her attempt to remain vigilant and not have a recurrence of her crack up, she drifted again. Feather beds, steak dinners, romantic candlelight and roaring fires teased the edges of her mind as she went.

A passing branch snagged at her parka, startling her back to reality.

"Ugh!" she yelled, frustrated with her inability to sleep warring with her desperate need to remain awake. "What the hell am I doing out here?"

The dogs barely gave her a glance, loping along with ease. Tecumseh's line was slack, but he continued to run with his mates. Her head lamp illuminated the beauty of the wilderness around her. The sky held a brilliant cacophony of silent stars occasionally interspersed with sheets of greens and blues and reds of the aurora.

She soaked in her surroundings, drawing the solitude and beauty into her soul. At first she had come here to understand Scotch, to discover the root of that confidence, to unearth the reason for her inexplicable draw to the woman. She had remained because of friendship and family - both human and canine - and a growing love for her surroundings and activities. She had come to the Iditarod as a rookie, a reporter doing a story, nothing more. But her time at the kennel, in the presence of Scotch and the dogs, had taught her more than how to mush.

Lainey was here for herself and no one else. The magazine would never get as much out of the articles as she would for simply experiencing and defeating the challenges before her. She not only knew what caused Scotch's confident bearing, she wanted that self-assurance for herself. Loving Scotch was easy for her, and she did not know if her feelings were returned. Should their relationship escalate beyond a bit of slap and tickle Lainey wanted to be on equal footing, not because she expected Scotch to look down on her, but because Lainey would look down upon herself.

The trail slid off the straight and narrow onto the Kuskokwim River. Markers were a bit more difficult to locate, but Lainey pleased herself with keeping on track. In a few short miles, she pulled into the village of Nikolai.

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

SCOTCH HAD ARRIVED in Nikolai a full hour and a half ahead of Lainey. The vet checking her dogs agreed with her about Tecumseh. As much as Lainey wanted to let him stay with his teammates, she decided to drop him for his health. The bruising of his shoulders bothered him more than his wrist, and the constant pulling would eventually do some serious damage. It was with a heavy heart that she removed her wounded dog from the tug line and escorted him to the dog drop area. He would wait there until a volunteer bush pilot came through to pick him up, delivering him to Anchorage.

By the time Lainey had returned to her dogs and finished the remaining chores, Scotch was already catching a nap. Lainey did not want to disturb her, so she bedded down with her dogs outside the school that served as a checkpoint. A quick search for Drew Owens turned up nothing.

Oddly enough, sleep would not come though she was mentally exhausted. Her mind kept turning over the day's events, the crash, and how she could have avoided it. She wondered if Owens had blown through. Or was he somewhere near and Lainey just had not seen him? If he checked in and out again, was he asleep a couple of miles away, psyching out his competition? Whatever it was seemed to have worked, because she had seen Waters come through while she was completing her tasks. He stopped long enough to get his food drops, see who was here, and promptly left.

Was Scotch being overly confident by remaining in Nikolai?

Mixed in with all those concerns were the sensual daydreams that had almost lost her the sled earlier. Warmth, good food, a scotch on the rocks, and Scotch on a bear rug. She did not bother banishing the alcohol from her mind. It always seemed like a glass of water just out of reach, and she was dying of thirst. She had been clean and sober for years, but some days that did not lessen the yearning. The other Scotch, however - that she was looking forward to. Of course there was no bearskin rug in the cabin. They would have to make do with the braided rug in front of the fireplace. Or on the comfortably over stuffed couch. Or maybe the rickety kitchen table.

Lainey's consciousness faded away as she toyed with Scotch in her thoughts.

Scotch was gone when she woke. Unhappy that she had missed telling her goodbye, Lainey went about waking and feeding the dogs. She signed autographs for a group of village children and talked to them about her dogs and how long she had been mushing. At least three of them had far more experience than she, and they laughed at the disparity. Then a pair of reporters approached her for an interview. She groaned when they asked about her wreck but answered honestly. Word obviously traveled fast along the trail.

When she checked out it was twelve twenty-seven in the afternoon. The sun had risen but cloud cover kept the worst of the heat at bay. She chuckled to herself as her team headed across the Kuskokwim River. A year ago she was in Nome freezing her ass off in twenty degree weather. Now she was worried about overheating at the same temperature. What had the world come to? Now that she was alone, she dug out her iPod. No reason why Georgio Spencer should have all the fun. As the dogs took her along the easy trail and wide open spaces, she sang with Peter Gabriel as he was shaking the tree. This part of the trail had heavy snow machine traffic between the two checkpoints, both of which were populated villages. McGrath was the bigger of the two and boasted laundromats and grocery stores, not to mention a continual supply of hot water. Lainey looked forward to not having to boil water for the dogs and receiving an opportunity to get properly clean. She planned on taking her twenty-four hour layover here to catch up on some much needed sleep. Scotch would be doing the same, so they would have a little time to see each other before they separated again. Even with the diversion of music, the trail seemed to go on and on. It was boring as hell. Lainey kept switching between playlists, looking for music to keep her mood up and her eyes open. There was no danger of sweepers to knock her off the runners, or sudden twists to overturn the sled. Instead she worried about falling asleep at the handlebars and waking in the snow with her team disappearing into the distance. Lainey pulled out her camera for the occasional photo, but one section of trail looked like another. One shot of her running dogs, with the bare spot where Tecumseh should have been, was enough to befoul her mood. She put the camera away. Finally the landscape changed. It looked like the ground fell away in the distance. That meant they were going to drop back onto the Kuskokwim River. It was also an indication she was at the halfway point. Lainey felt an irrational urge to cry though she was pleased at her progress. She still had twenty plus miles to go to McGrath. Twenty more miles to stay awake. Before they arrived at the river, Lainey halted her dogs for a snack break. They joyfully rolled in the snow, cooling off after their run. A few had lost booties and, as always, Heldig's were gone. Lainey used her fingers to break up ice balls and clean off paws, then rubbed salve into their pads. More booties followed. She did not even bother begging Heldig to keep them on this time, though she considered picking up a roll of duct tape in McGrath. Maybe that would keep her paws covered.