Broken Trails

“Lainey.”

Forcing herself to face him, she saw his expression had changed.

“I wasn’t forced here, okay? It’s a damn good idea, regardless of why you came up with it. I think it’ll sell magazines and, if we’re lucky, win us a couple of awards.” He grinned and winked, the familiar devil-may-care attitude returning full force. “If you get laid, all the better.”

Lainey wondered if she should laugh or smack him. She did neither, hearing Scotch call her name. Squeezing Howry’s forearm, she released him and turned.

Scotch lounged in a plastic chair, her legs crossed at the ankles and hands laced over her belly, a bottle of beer within easy reach. She had lowered the bill of her cap over her sunglasses, looking as if she were napping. In reality, she watched the comings and goings at the sign up tent as the sun slipped further west. Rye was talking with friends from the Junior Alaskan Sled Dog and Racing Association. She recognized some of the kids from her time as a member of the organization.

Howry was wondering about with a hamburger in one hand, getting what he called ‘flavor’ for the first article. He had already taken photos of she and Lainey signing up for the race, as well as a handful of the better-known mushers. Her father had exercised his right as owner of Fuller Construction to take the afternoon off. Thom hung out under the sign up tent, swapping tall tales with the older men there. Hardly anyone had left after signing up for the Iditarod. The party was in full swing and would continue on into the evening. Scotch figured Irish would be by when their mother and Miguel were finished at the kennels. What held most of her attention, however, was her roommate.

Lainey lay in a patch of sunlight, leaning on her elbows as she soaked up the rays. She looked like she was enjoying herself immensely, and Scotch had to admit she took pleasure in watching. Damned if she could figure out why, though. It was not as if she had never seen a woman sunbathe before. Still, she mused on the color of Lainey’s skin tones. Her complexion was darker than Scotch’s, something the musher envied. No matter how hard she tried, she could never get more than a light gold tan during the summer. Lainey would become almost bronze given the proper amount of exposure.

She idly wandered the slim body. Scotch had had the opportunity to see Lainey wearing the shorts and t-shirt in which she slept. There were no gunshot wounds evident on her arms and legs. That boiled it down to her torso or maybe a head wound. It would have to have been a minor injury if Lainey had been wounded in the head. Otherwise, she would be dead, right?

Scotch frowned at the thought of how a wound like that would scar. She knew a boy who had shot himself with his father’s pistol; it was not a pretty sight. Did Lainey feel self conscious about it? Or did she receive reconstructive surgery?

Did Lainey have a boyfriend?

The thought startled her. Her eyes automatically searched her memory. Lainey had not mentioned anyone special in her life, and Scotch could not remember seeing a ring or anything. Would a strange man show up at some point to visit Lainey? The very idea made her nose wrinkle in distaste. It suddenly became very important to know. “Do you have a boyfriend?” she asked, unable to help herself.

Lainey opened her eyes, shifting to one elbow as she brought her other hand up to shade her face. “No.”

Scotch felt a wave of relief followed by disgruntlement. What the hell was her problem? Whether or not Lainey had someone was not something Scotch should be concerned with. Right? Unable to think of a response, she said, “Oh.”

A smile curled Lainey’s lips. “Do you?”

She laughed, relaxing into the increasingly familiar friendship they were developing. “Nope. Most the men I know aren’t what I’d consider dating material.”

Lainey nodded without speaking.

Nervous under her examination, Scotch picked up her bottle. “You want a beer?” she asked, preparing to rise.

“I don’t drink.”

There seemed to be a wealth of meaning in the simple phrase, and Scotch paused in the process of standing. “Ever?”

Lainey smiled, though it had a tinge of wistfulness to it. “Not anymore.”

Scotch stared at her a moment. “All right then.” She finished rising. “Want a soda instead?”

“Yeah, that’d be nice.”

“One soda coming up.” She took her beer bottle, pouring the rest of it out as she headed for the coolers located near the barbecue. Once there, she retrieved two cans of soda, wondering why she was doing it. The smile she received from Lainey upon her return might not have answered the question, but it definitely gave her cause to do whatever she could to see it more often.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

UNDER THE WATCHFUL eye of Scotch, Lainey carefully attached the tugline to Jonah’s harness. She finished the connection by attaching a short neckline from the main towline to the dog’s collar. Laughing, she fended off the exuberant licking of her new friend, and stood up to examine her work. Jonah was, by far, the largest of the six dogs given the dubious benefit of being on Lainey’s team. As soon as she stepped away he began pulling, trying to get the ATV to move. With all the effort he was putting into it, she almost expected the vehicle to pop its brakes and take off without her. “He certainly seems… eager,” she said.

“Oh, yeah,” Scotch agreed. She leaned against the second ATV, her team already hitched and clamoring to get on the trail. Her arms were crossed, and she regarded Jonah with indulgent pride. “He’s run all three Iditarods with me. The boy’s a go-getter; a powerhouse.”

Lainey wondered why Scotch was allowing her the use of dogs from her previous races. Surely she would want the more experienced animals on her team. Maybe Lainey had misunderstood when Scotch officially introduced her to her team this morning at breakfast. Perhaps Lainey would train them, but Scotch would take them on the Iditarod when March arrived.

“Who’s next?”

“Aegis,” Lainey said, grinning as she gave the right answer. Scotch waved her off to retrieve the dog.

Shy and sweet, Aegis” attitude was at odds for her size. She, too, was a heavy animal, and Lainey remembered from her lecture that the four-year-old was close to eighty pounds. Both she and Jonah ran in the wheel positions and needed the extra weight and power. Their job was to turn the sled that would weigh upwards of five or six hundred pounds.

Once Aegis was in position, Lainey went back to get the next one. She stopped at an off white bitch called Kaara, but before she could release the dog, Scotch called to her.

“That’s a mistake, believe me.”

Lainey frowned, ignoring the smiling animal at her feet. “But she’s on my team, right?”

“That she is,” Scotch said, smothering a grin. “But who’s her partner in crime?”

“Bonaparte!” Lainey turned to see the black and white male standing majestic upon his doghouse, nose held in the air with disdain for his canine comrades. “I can’t believe I almost forgot that,” she muttered to herself, leaving Kaara. Bonaparte was small and just as snooty as his namesake. Lainey had been warned that if he felt slighted in any way, he would refuse to run. She detached his chain, and got a firm grip on his collar in anticipation of his lunge, only to have him stalk regally toward the ATV. Lainey bit back a chuckle, feeling more like a courtesan than a dog handler.

“Whew!” Scotch said, wiping feigned sweat from her brow. “That could have been a disaster.”

“Oh, come on. He’s a dog; in a week, he wouldn’t remember that it was me who flubbed up,” Lainey said, attaching the neck and tuglines.