Broken Trails

“I guess so.” Lainey proceeded to pack up.

“Lead the way,” Scotch said. “Just remember to turn left at the trail head.”

Lainey blinked. ‘me?” she asked.

“Well, you’re going to have to learn all these trails before winter hits. Best start now.” Scotch boarded her ATV, looking over her shoulder. “By snowfall, you should know enough about them to gauge how far to travel in your training. You don’t want to over extend your team by going too far too early; it’ll cause injuries.”

Lainey turned to stare at her dogs. Bonaparte was the only one watching her. Kaara watched him, Jonah rolled on the grass, and Aegis was delicately finishing her snack. Trace and Sholo seemed more interested in Scotch’s doings, probably wondering why they were not on her string. They had no idea Lainey was a novice. What would happen if they ever figured it out? A “·¢riot” as Scotch called it?

Bonaparte sniffed and looked away.

Feeling irritated with his canine challenge, Lainey smiled in feral anticipation. No way was she going to let some snotty mutt run the show. With a renewed sense of purpose, she marched up to Sholo and Trace, taking the mainline and bringing the dogs around until they faced back the way they had come. She climbed aboard the ATV, cranking the handlebars to the left as far as they would go. Her team was used to such activity, and seemed ready to move out. Lainey made certain the ATV brake was set, and started the vehicle.

“Ready!”

Trace and Sholo pulled forward, forcing the other dogs to straighten their line. Jonah’s hindquarters flexed as he tried to get them moving by sheer will alone. Kaara gave Bonaparte a quick nuzzle before settling down to business.

Lainey glanced at Scotch, grinning when the woman tipped her baseball cap at her.

“Let’s go!”

CHAPTER TWELVE

“WHAT’RE YOU READING?” Scotch asked.

Lainey sat up from her sprawl across the couch, making room for the woman to join her. “The Call of the Wild.” She waggled the book at Scotch, taking care to keep her place with one finger.

Scotch chuckled and dropped into the vacated space. “Trying to get a dog’s eye view of an Alaskan winter?”

“Something like that.” She marked her page with a scrap of paper, setting the book down on the rough-hewn coffee table.

“While the story is historically accurate, don’t go basing the Iditarod on it. Modern dogs are way different.”

“Okay.” Sitting back, Lainey propped her feet on its edge, and turned to regard her roommate. “How’d it go on the day trip? Get any sponsors?”

“Investors only this time,” Scotch said. She turned on the couch until she faced Lainey, her legs stretched out along the floor beneath the woman’s feet. Frowning, Scotch stared at the ceiling in calculation, silently counting on the fingers of one hand. “I got enough booty money for all the dogs two times over.”

Lainey did the math. A buck per booty, four booties per dog, times sixteen dogs and doubled. “That’s not bad. Only about a thousand more to go.”

“Not bad at all considering it was all from the kids. They saw our website and began saving their allowances last year when their family planned a vacation up here.”

“Wow. That is impressive.”

Scotch stretched and yawned. “Yeah, they studied the Iditarod in school last year. I promised to list them as supporters on the website next time we update.”

Lainey watched her, a slight smile on her face. It would be so nice to cuddle with her. Maybe she could get a series of candid photos of Scotch sometime, something she could take with her when this assignment was over.

“What?”

Her grin widened at the suspicious look she received. She was always getting busted daydreaming. “How much more in donations do you think you’ll need to cover the costs of running the Iditarod this year?”

Scotch eyed her with a mixture of amusement and exasperation. “Is this an interview question?”

“It could be.”

“I thought Don was the one doing the articles on me. You’re supposed to be reporting about your training instead.”

Lainey lifted her chin in slight defiance. “It’s still my gig; he wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for my initial pitch.” Her lips curved as she saw mischievousness reflected in Scotch’s demeanor. The confidence that originally drew Lainey seemed to emanate throughout the woman in every situation, even playfulness. It was quite a turn on.

“I’ll answer you if you answer a question for me.”

The glint in Scotch’s eye gave Lainey pause. “What’s this? An Alaskan form of Truth or Dare?” she asked, hiding her wariness behind humor.

Scotch grinned. “Well, we could do that, too.”

Lainey had a moment of dizziness at the thought of playing Truth or Dare with the woman who filled her wet dreams. What a game that would be! Yowza! Forcing her overactive imagination down, Lainey said, “All right. A question for a question. I asked mine first.”

With a satisfied air, Scotch relaxed further into the couch. She draped one long arm across the back of it, not quite reaching Lainey’s head. “Technically, I’m set for the race. Figure it runs about ten grand after entry fees, gear replacement, food and freight. When you made the deal to train for the race, the money you brought covered both of us.”

“Yeah?” Lainey felt a sense of satisfaction.

“Yeah. This is a year of plenty for the kennel. The formula for running one is a buck fifty per dog per day. And we have almost a hundred dogs.”

“Have you done this before?” Lainey asked. “Taken on a rookie to train?”

Scotch grinned. “That’s two questions, and it’s my turn.”

Lainey held up her hands in mock surrender. “Fire away.”

“What’s it like to report from a war zone?”

“Oooh.” She could not help but wince, having not expected the query. ‘man, you shoot from the hip, don’t you?”

A contrite look crossed Scotch’s face. “I’m sorry. You don’t have to answer that. It’s really none of my business.”

Lainey reached out and patted Scotch’s thigh just above the knee. “No, that’s okay. It just surprised me.” She drew one foot up to the edge of the couch, wrapping her arms around her shin in thought. “It’s one part challenge, one part terror, and three parts excitement - shaken, not stirred.”

“On the rocks?”

She laughed. “Yup, you got it.” Lainey sobered, remembering. “You hear an explosion or gunfire in the distance; you grab whatever transportation you can find to get to the scene. Your heart is pumping, your nerves jittery. Your destination smells of dust, cordite, and blood. If you’re lucky, the perpetrators are long gone. And if you’re luckier, they’re still there, shooting it out with whoever claims that area.

“Nothing is truly real. You see it all through the viewfinder. It’s a photo op, the destruction, the death. There’s no time to feel; you have to record the event as it unfolds and hope to God you’ll remain in one piece after.”

“Did you enjoy it?”

Lainey returned to the present. “Ah, ah, ah,” she said, waving a finger. ‘my turn.”

Scotch grinned, and shook her head. “You want me to answer your last one?”

“Nope. I retract it. Why do you run the Iditarod? What’s the draw?”

Scotch pressed back against the arm of the couch, crossing her arms over her chest. “I think you’ve already said it. One part challenge, one part terror, and three parts excitement, though it’s stirred in this case.”

“On the rocks?”

“Only in warmer years with little snowfall.” She remained quiet for a moment.

Lainey snorted. “Oh, no. Now’s not the time to get terse. Give me something to go on here.”