Broken Trails

Howry threw his hands up in the air. “Of course!”

As everyone had another good laugh, Scotch’s eyes met Lainey’s. She felt an odd connection forged between them, a simple joy of sharing something good. While a part of her relaxed into the sensation, Scotch wondered if perhaps her initial curiosity about the photojournalist had gotten too big, too obvious.

Since this morning she had become less worried about having an outsider living with her, and more concerned that she would appear to be an unsophisticated rube to the worldly woman. Miguel had mentioned Lainey seemed a little surprised that there was no electricity at her cabin. And the bush pilot, Cliff, had said she seemed high maintenance. Scotch had never set foot outside Alaska except to run the Yukon Quest in Canada. She had no earthly idea what her humble cabin would look like to the well-traveled Lainey Hughes.

Would they survive nine months together?

Her family began their nightly ritual of cleaning up, distracting Scotch from her meanderings. She helped clear the table. It was her turn to do dishes, so she started to fill the sink with hot soapy water. When Lainey offered to help, she wondered why she felt so happy.

CHAPTER SEVEN

LAINEY WALKED EASILY, her laden backpack seated comfortably on her shoulders and hips, and her camera bag in one hand, while Scotch led the way to her future home away from home. She was hard put to not study the well-shaped ass in front of her. Fortunately, for Lainey’s dignity in any case, the trail required her full attention so she would not trip.

It was not that late, but Alaska was far from the equator. The sun had not set, confusing Lainey’s sense of time over and above the jet lag. Even in New York she was used to it being dark by now. With the cooler temperature up here, her mind tried to tell her it was early morning instead of ten o’clock at night. She had to admit the overall effect was reminiscent of youthful camping trips in New England, enjoying a breakfast of flapjacks as the sun warmed the lake. Lainey smiled to herself; it had been years since she had thought of that. She wondered why.

“Almost there,” Scotch said, glancing over her shoulder. She carried Lainey’s laptop case and another suitcase.

“I’m right behind you,” she said.

They rounded a bend in the path, and Lainey got her first glimpse of the cabin. It stood one level tall, with a neat little covered porch in front of the door. From the angle they arrived, Lainey saw windows placed higher than she expected. Maybe that was to combat snowdrifts. She followed Scotch up three steps, noting a swinging bench hanging from the porch rafters as her hostess opened the door and set the bags inside.

“Come on in, and watch your step,” Scotch said. She gestured Lainey to enter.

Mindful of her feet, Lainey understood the instructions when she found herself on a landing. Steps led down, and she carefully followed them into the cabin.

Scotch closed the door, and came after her. ‘set your stuff in the corner, and I’ll show you around.”

Lainey dropped her pack and reached out to touch a natural stone wall. It was six feet high and was capped by the standard log walls she had expected this type of structure. “Are we below ground here, or did you build into the hill?” she asked.

“Both, actually,” Scotch said. “Out here we had to dig down, but in the back, it’s the depth of the hill.”

Lainey nodded absently, looking around. The space was small, maybe four hundred square feet. The floor was wood, covered here and there with throw rugs. Central to the room was a large fireplace made of the same stone as the walls around her. A sofa and chair squatted before the hearth, accompanied by a couple of sturdy tables with odds and ends upon them. An old style dining table with chrome legs and green laminate top sat nearby, keeping company with three padded chairs in need of new vinyl.

Behind the fireplace was a kitchen area. Lainey noted a small metal stove butted up against the back of the hearth, and several pots and pans hanging from the stonework. Storage cabinets and counters ran the length of this side of the room. The surprising thing was a large metal sink with an old-fashioned water pump attached to it. Remembering Miguel’s statement earlier in the day, she glanced at Scotch. “Running water?”

Scotch, removed her hands from the back pockets of her jeans, reaching up to pull off her baseball cap and run her hands through her hair. “Yeah, with a little elbow grease.”

She seemed embarrassed at the quality of her home, and Lainey hastened to show her appreciation. “It’s really nice,” she said, smiling. “Did you to a lot of the work yourself?”

Flushing prettily, Scotch reset her cap, and dug her hands back into her pockets. “We had to get a backhoe in here to dig the pit, and the guys helped me set the logs, roof, and windows.” She waved at the stonework. “I laid the rock and built the fireplace, put in the flooring and porch.”

“Wow,” Lainey said, impressed. She gave the area another look around before smiling. ‘so, where do we sleep?”

“Upstairs.”

Only then did Lainey realize the kitchen area had a lower ceiling than the main room. She followed Scotch back to the stairs, seeing them lead up past the entry door to a sleeping loft.

The loft was open to below with a sturdy pine railing jutting out from the chimney. Long and narrow, it was divided in half by a curtain. Here was a window, and Lainey understood the reason for the high placement. Where else would a window be in a split-level? They passed a double bed with a large dresser at its foot, and a nightstand beside it.

“This is mine.” Scotch opened the curtain by the chimney, and gestured Lainey in. “And this one is yours.”

It was the same, in reverse. The bed frame was made of pine, just like the railing. The smell of the wood was pungent, telling Lainey that it was new; it was probably built just for her. The bed was made with a thick, inviting quilt and several pillows, and a rag rug draped the floorboards where she would step out of it. The dresser and nightstand were a bit more worn, but well cared for. On the nightstand was an oil lamp, and Scotch lit it with a wooden match before closing the thick curtains over the window.

“Is it okay?” Scotch asked. “If you want to swap or maybe move into the main cabin, I’d understand.”

Lainey grinned reassurance. “No! This is great, really.” She sat on the bed, testing the box springs. “You’ve put a lot of work into this, I can tell. Thank you.”

Again Scotch reddened and looked away, trying to find something to say. And again Lainey wondered if this feeling of infatuation would pass as she licked her lips. God, she could almost taste her! The swell of lust was mild, but enough to set her heart thumping.

“Well then. I guess we should get your stuff up here so you can settle in. We get up pretty early in the morning, so it’s best if we hit the sack soon.”

Heartily agreeing with the thought of getting to bed with Scotch, Lainey scolded herself for her lewd thoughts. ‘sounds like a plan. I’m looking forward to my first board meeting.”

Scotch, back on secure territory, chuckled. “Chores come before breakfast or meetings,” she said, heading down the stairs. “I doubt you’ll be looking forward to that when you understand what all has to be done.”

Lainey, enamored of the lithe body trotting down the steps, did not answer.

Scotch did not know how late it was. Twilight filtered from around the curtains in her room. Her body lay in languid stupor, unmoving. Her mind, however, refused to release her to sleep, preferring instead to play back the entire day’s activities.

Not surprisingly, neither Lainey nor Don Howry were what she had anticipated. She was not sure what she expected, but then she had never been in this type of situation before. Scotch had spoken with several mushers since March, focusing her attention on the big names in the Iditarod world. Few had had this experience. The closest was a fellow whose major sponsor was an outdoor clothing company; they had put up an extensive web site about his training methods, but he had written most of the copy himself. The only other reporters Scotch had dealt with before were those involved with racing.