Broken Trails

“Sure. Besides,” Rye said to Lainey, “you’ll place higher with one of our teams. There’s a better selection of dogs to choose from.”

Lainey cleared her throat, realizing that the decision had been made. “You don’t need to vote?”

Thom grinned. “Well, I suppose. Just to make it official. All those for accepting a trainee for the Iditarod?”

Every Fuller raised their hand, even Bon who laughed and raised both.

“Well, there you go.’ Thom glanced at a clock. “Holy smokes, I’ve got to get going or I’ll be late. Meeting adjourned.”

That was the catalyst as everyone stood. Thom headed out the door, grabbing a construction helmet on the way. Helen chased after to give him a kiss good bye, and then returned to the table.

“Welcome to the family, dear,” she said, giving Lainey a hug. “You, too, Don. I’ll see you at lunch.” With that, she scooped Bon from beneath the table, and carted him out the door.

“I’ll be back in a half hour,” Scotch said after placing her plate in the sink.

Lainey wondered if Scotch was a bit more wary around her. Or was Lainey projecting her uncertainty about the situation? She had hoped to spend time with Scotch after this revelation to assess the potential damage to their non-existent working relationship. “Where are you going?”

“We have a day trip scheduled for some tourists. I’ve got to pick them up in town. You’ll be on your own today.”

“You can hang with me,” Irish offered.

“What are the chances of joining the day trip?” Howry asked.

Rye filled the sink with water in preparation of doing dishes. “Not good. Only if there’s a cancellation. The carts hold five people each, and the reservation is for ten.”

“I’ve got to scoot.” Scotch strode out of the kitchen.

It was all Lainey could do to not follow her. Had she irreparably damaged things? Was Scotch’s attitude just a tad cooler than earlier this morning? Lainey did not know whether to laugh at the ridiculous concern or cry that it could be true.

This draw was too strong, it was more than she had imagined in March. Maybe she should back out now. Find a lawyer to help annul her contract with Cognizance, and take the next flight to Peru to photograph monasteries. That brought a different level of panic than what she already experienced. When the hell did life get so damned complicated? Christ, she needed a drink!

The thought dashed cold water on her jitters. Nothing was so bad she needed to resort to the bottle again. Not even absurd physical attractions that caused her to question everything about her sanity.

She took a bracing breath, and smiled at Irish. “I’d love to hang with you today. You can show me the ropes about sleds, and give me a personal introduction to the dogs.”

Her reward was a brilliant smile, so like Scotch’s that it took Lainey’s breath away. Irish grabbed Lainey’s hand, and tugged her toward the door. “Cool! Come on!”

Lainey gave Howry a wave, receiving a wink for the effort before she was dragged out the door by the pleased nine-year-old.

Scotch had a difficult time keeping her attention on their visitors. They were a group of retirees living out of their motor homes as they traveled Alaska. The youngest was an energetic fifty-four years of age. It helped that Scotch spent a good deal of their trip guiding the dogs. Ahead of her, Rye had a full load, as well.

The group pulled into Lafferty’s fish camp, a regular stop on this run, and met by Ray Lafferty himself. Whenever an over night or daytrip was scheduled, the old timer was notified by radio. In return for a percentage of the fees the kennel charged, he gave the tourists a fun mountain man experience, and fed them a rustic lunch.

“Fuller!” he bellowed as the vehicle engines died down. “How the hell are you?”

Scotch grinned, seeing a couple of the tourists shrink away from his larger than life persona. “Pretty good, Ray,” she said before disappearing into a bear hug. He stood at about the same height, and his thick beard scratched her cheek. Pulling away, she grinned, gesturing at her charges. “Let me introduce you to our guests.”

Lafferty personally welcomed everyone with a warm handshake and equally warm smile, relaxing even the most aloof of the visitors. As he distracted them, she and Rye snacked the dogs on chunks of moose liver. Half of the tourists went with Lafferty as he showed them around his camp. The rest watched as Scotch and her brother saw to the dogs. She relaxed into teaching mode, explaining as she massaged each dog that she searched for mild injuries as well as kept the animals used to intimate handling.

Eventually, the smell of frying fish drew their admirers away. She went to the river to collect water for her team as Lafferty regaled his audience with tall tales of life on the frontier.

“So what do you think about this training business?”

She looked over at Rye who squatted beside her on the same errand. “I don’t know,” she said. “It makes sense, I guess. I just wasn’t expecting it.”

“Yeah.” They filled their water jugs in silence. “What’s she like?”

A well of emotion surged as Scotch tried to formulate an answer. ‘she’s nice,” she finally stated, painfully aware of how little that truly conveyed. What else could she say? The fact of the matter was that she hardly knew Lainey, and did not have a clue to her motivation in wanting to do run the Iditarod.

She trudged away from the bank toward the dogs. Spartacus and Cleatis were posturing, looking to squabble. They worked well together but, given an opportunity, would brawl like overgrown puppies. Scotch welcomed the distraction, pulling Cleatis from the line to tie off to a sturdy tree nearby.

After she watered the rest of her team, she settled down in the shade to think. Her brother, sensing her need for solitude, joined the party at the fire.

How the hell was she going to train Lainey to run the Iditarod? It was tough enough training her first string dogs to do the job. Scotch had never tried teaching someone else to do what she did. She had grown up with dogs and sleds. It was second nature for her.

To be honest, Irish and Rye did not have the time to instruct Lainey, either. When the snow flew, all three of them would be found on their sleds, preparing for the races. This winter, Irish had her eye on winning a handful of sprints sponsored by her youth organization and local businesses. Rye would run the Junior Iditarod for his third year, and probably hit the Junior Yukon Quest if the kennel could afford it. Scotch was aiming to hit the Copper Basin, a handful of adult sprints, and the Iditarod itself. There was little time any of them could devote to a rookie.

Lainey seemed a knowledgeable woman. She had faced the business end of a gun at some point and survived. But the Iditarod was an endurance run that could last anywhere from nine days to three weeks, weather and trail permitting. There would be places where no one would be able to help her if she got into a life or death jam. Was the photojournalist tough enough to withstand that type of test?

The arctic gear made sense now. Most of it was new, too, indicating that Lainey had little experience with severe cold. Would Scotch and her family be able to impart the importance of how to deal with the extremes? Or would Lainey suffer frostbite and potential amputation in her ignorance?

Scotch’s stomach grumbled, reminding her it had been some time since breakfast. The smell of grilling fish was strong, and she saw most of her tour group filling up on Lafferty’s lunch buffet. She had already agreed to teach Lainey. Nothing to be done about it now except follow through with the deed. There was plenty of time to worry it to death.