Elle James - Alaskan Fantasy

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I dedicate this book to the many adventurers who participate in the Iditarod race, and specifically to Paul and Evy Gebhardt. These wonderful people took the time to read through this manuscript to make sure I got the details correct on the terrain and equipment. I’d also like to thank my cousin Victor Hughes and his lovely wife, Nancy, who love dogsledding, the dogs and Alaska so much they inspired me to write this story.

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Snow glittered like a million scattered diamonds in the light cast by the fat, gold moon hovering low on the horizon. Winter in Alaska may be filled with dark days, but its nights were no less beautiful than summer. Silence reigned, broken only by the crackle of the sled runners and the patter of sixteen sets of paws skimming across the icy crust.

Sam Russell tugged the wool scarf down off the lower half of his face and breathed in the frigid, clean air. The moisture in his breath crystallized as it left his mouth. After living in the frozen North for the past four years, he couldn’t imagine returning to the the lower forty-eight states with their noise, traffic and pollution.

His broken engagement and his career change were the best things to ever happen to him. He couldn’t picture his ex-fiancée, Leanne, braving freezing temperatures or enjoying the solitude. She’d have gone stark raving mad without the shopping malls and soirees of her busy social life.

A shiver coursed down his spine and he replaced the scarf over his nose and mouth.

The sight of another sled in the clearing ahead reminded Sam he wasn’t completely alone. Not that he minded Paul Jenkins. Paul was one of the few friends he’d made in his time here.

Although he caught glimpses of Paul through the branches of the spruce trees and lodgepole pine, the trail veered sharply to the right, skirting a jumble of fallen logs crisscrossing the forest floor. Sam leaned to the right and shouted, “Gee!” to lead dogs Hammer and Striker. They turned down the path, the other fourteen dogs following, pulling hard in the traces. The long line of dogs dipped down into a frozen creek bed and back up on the other side.

When the sled hit the bottom of the creek, the runners slammed against a rock hidden beneath the snow and lurched to the right. Sam bent his knees, absorbing the jolt, then compensated for the listing sled by leaning left. The dogs pressed forward, driven by the need to run.

When canines and sled topped the creek bank, the trail opened to the clearing nestled in the pine forest where Paul awaited them. The team sent up a chorus of yelps, their excitement over meeting with others of their kind apparent in the added bounce in their step and the frantic tail wagging.

“Whoa!” Sam stepped on the foot brake and anchored the snow hook in the powder, bringing the dogs to a halt beside Paul and his sled. Hammer and Striker flopped down on the snow, barely breathing hard, their ears perked in anticipation of Sam’s next command.

“About time you showed up.” Paul strode toward him, his boots sinking into snow up to his knees. He pulled his goggles down around his neck and smiled. The man always had an infectious grin, as if he saw something funny in every situation. Paul loved his life in Alaska and wanted everyone to love it right along with him. “Any problems?”

Sam tugged his goggles up on his forehead. “I hit a rock in the creek bottom.”

Dark brows angled down over light blue eyes as Paul shot a glance toward Sam’s sled. “Any damage?”

“It handled beautifully.” He climbed from the runners and sank into the snow.

Paul’s frown cleared. “So, how do you like the new sled?”

“So far so good.” The sled had arrived two weeks ago and he’d been working with it ever since, testing it thorughly before he decided whether or not to use it on the Iditarod. It had to be good to make it in the eleven-hundred-mile race from Anchorage to Nome.

“I’ve been thinking about investing in a new one myself.” Paul scratched at the week-old beard on his chin. “But I’m kinda attached to the one I used last year.”

Sam waved a hand toward his sled and team of dogs. “Want to try it out?”

Paul’s eyes sparkled. “Do you mind?”

“Not at all.” Sam stepped away from the sled. “Did you plan to take them any farther today?”

“No. I didn’t want to work the team too hard with the race only two days away. I’m ready to head back and start packing, if you are.”

“Yeah. I hadn’t planned on going more than ten miles today. Had to replace Jonesy with Trooper and wanted to see how the team reacted to the placement.”

“What happened to Jonesy?” Paul knew all the dogs in the shared kennel and cared as much as Sam or Vic about their well-being, not just because of their importance to the race. They were part of the family.

“Vic said Jonesy was favoring his left shoulder. I didn’t want to chance it with him.”

Paul nodded. “Not with the race so close.”

“Tell you what.” Sam waved at his sled and team. “Why don’t you take my sled back to the house.”

“No need. I’ll just take it a couple miles to get the feel for it. Don’t want to confuse the dogs with a different musher.”

Sam snorted. “They’re more used to you than me. You’re the one who feeds and trains them year-round. I only show up during the wintertime.”

“Yeah, but what I wouldn’t give for the fun job you do. The Anchorage police force isn’t nearly as thrilling as tramping through the woods discovering the next great oil field in the interior.”

Sam had to admit he liked being out in the wild, although sometimes it was lonely. “It’s not as exciting as you make it sound. It’s got its drawbacks. Mainly the politics.”

“Oh, come on. Don’t make me laugh. I’d trade places with you in a heartbeat to get out in the woods more often.” Paul shrugged. “But I know what you mean. We have our own share of politics in the police force, but nothing like what you’re dealing with.”

“Maybe I’ll take you up on that trade. Tramping through the wild with nothing more substantial than an ATV can be hair-raising at times. Especially when you come face-to-face with a grizzly. Although, I think I’d rather face a grizzly than the congressional committees of the White House, any day.”

Paul grinned. “Same here. And I’d rather face a grizzly than a moose. I once stood completely still for two hours waiting for a two-thousand-pound bull moose to finish grazing and move off the trail so I could get by. That damn moose really bit into my finish time on the Yukon Quest. Ended up in fourth place that year.”

“Out of how many entrants?” Sam asked.

“Fifty.”

Sam grinned, shaking his head. “I’m not feeling sorry for you.”