Broken Trails

Setting the snow hook was an automatic gesture as Scotch flung herself from the sled. Lainey sat in the snow amid a tangle of tuglines and dogs. She seemed well enough and Scotch looked over the mess, glad to see that none of the animals were so snarled that their lines choked them. A few feet away blood from a dead moose stained the snow where it had collapsed. She carefully noted it was dead and dismissed it as a threat.

Scotch almost swooned as the weight of fear lifted. She had a good idea what had happened, and Lainey was safe. Her knees became rubbery with relief, and she stumbled forward. Lainey held a bleeding dog in her lap, and Scotch’s initial respite faded into dread. The pistol lay nearby, its black metal sunk into the snow.

“Are you all right?” she asked, kneeling in the snow beside her. She grimaced as she saw the wounded dog was Cochise. He panted and whimpered, but held still in Lainey’s arms. His snout was bloody and one eye had swollen shut. Scotch could not tell if he had a simple head injury or the blood around his mouth was from internal bleeding.

Lainey nodded in response to her question. “There wasn’t any time. He was already a few feet away when I came around the bend.” She sniffled.

Scotch hugged the crying woman, resting her cheek on the dark head. “It’s okay. It’s all right. It’s over.”

She sobbed and burrowed closer, her hands never leaving Cochise, gently stroking his fur.

The snow machine drew closer and then stopped. Scotch heard the motor drop into an idle, and a voice call out.

“Hang on, help is here,” she told Lainey. Reluctant to release her, Scotch did so anyway, standing to yell back, “Over here! In the switchback!”

She received an answering shout, and the motor revved. As much as she wanted to return to Lainey’s side, this disaster had to be cleaned up. The smell of blood would draw any predators or scavengers in the area, and the dogs needed to be straightened out and returned to the kennel. Scotch bent and unhooked Cochise from his neckline as the snow machine came into view from the other side of the switchback.

“What the hell?” Ray Lafferty exclaimed, swerving at the last minute to avoid the bull in his path. He turned off the engine and clambered from the snow machine. “I heard the shots. Everybody okay?”

“For the most part,” Scotch said, stepping forward to shake his hand. “I’m glad you’re here. Cochise has been injured, and I don’t know how bad.”

“I’ll take him to your mom,” he volunteered. He looked over her shoulder at Lainey. “Should I take her, too?”

Scotch turned to regard the quietly weeping woman. “Yeah. Maybe you should. I can rig the dogs together and pull her sled in.”

Lafferty nodded his grizzled head. “Let’s get going then. Time’s a wasting.” He went back to his snow machine to start it anew.

“Lainey?” Scotch said as she neared. “Ray’s going to take you and Cochise to Mom’s hospital.”

“What?” Lainey asked, looking confused.

“Ray’s here,” Scotch said, gesturing to the old timer who neared with the vehicle. “Cochise needs to get to a vet. Ray will take both of you to Mom.”

Lainey studied Ray as he dismounted and neared, then the dog in her lap. She scanned the tiny clearing. “What about my team?”

“I’ll get them in, don’t worry about that.” Scotch’s voice was calm and soothing. Lainey was obviously in shock. With the right tone, she would be compliant and follow orders. Killing was not an easy thing to do, regardless of the situation. The photo journalist had seen a lot of death over her career, but had never been its cause. It had to mess with her head.

“No.”

“Excuse me, miss?” Lafferty asked. “The sooner we get in, the better chance that dog has to survive.”

Lainey wiped her face, lifting her chin. “I’m not going with you. It’s my team, and my mess. I’ll help clean it up.”

Lafferty blinked at her, taken aback at her sudden defiant attitude. He shook himself and gave Scotch a rueful grin. “Whatever you say, ma’am.”

“That’s what I say.” She glared up at them.

Scotch regarded her for a long moment. She saw the stubborn need for Lainey to follow through, no matter how difficult the task. Most women, those of a less hardy nature, would have taken the offer for what it was - an escape from the emotional upheaval of dealing with the state of affairs. Lainey had not only overcome her fear of guns, but had successfully defended herself with one. She had kept her head when others would have crawled under a rock, defeated.

Her opinion of Lainey Hughes, already high by most standards, raised a notch. This was one tough lady. If any Outsider rookie had a shot at completing the Iditarod, this one did.

“All right. Let’s get a move on.”

Her words were a catalyst and Lainey’s shoulders squared in determination. With Lafferty’s help, Lainey wrapped Cochise in her sleeping bag and helped him cradle the dog between his legs on the snow machine. When they were ready, he told her he would take care of her lead dog, and slowly drove the vehicle toward Fuller Kennels.

Scotch used the time to untangle the team and get both of them facing home. She tied off the snub lines on both sleds. Lainey snacked her dogs on frozen white fish, heaping praise on them for their level heads, and Scotch did the same. Once that muddle was cleared up, Scotch approached the moose. Close inspection showed two bullet wounds, one on its forehead and one in the neck. From the amount of blood, it looked like Lainey had nicked an artery.

Behind her, she heard the crunch of snow as Lainey approached.

“Damned good shot for not knowing what to do,” Scotch said. She poked at the head wound, noting a streak of damage that went up past its ear. “Looks like your first shot hit him at just the right angle to deflect the bullet. It was your second shot that did him in.”

“He reared up. He didn’t look like he was leaving, and I didn’t want him trampling the team, so I fired again.”

“You did what you needed to do,” Scotch said simply. “Now you’re going to learn what to do if this happens again. If you kill a game animal on the trail, you’re required to gut it and report it at the next checkpoint. Here at home you have to report it to the Fish and Game department.”

Lainey swallowed, her complexion growing pale. “How often does this happen on the trail?”

Scotch heard the tremor in her voice. “On the Iditarod itself? Not often. Maybe once every couple of years. For the most part, a moose will leave the trail rather than fight it out. If you were as close as you say you were, he probably didn’t think he had any other alternative.” Unable to stop herself, she reached out and cupped Lainey’s cheek. “I don’t think this will happen to you again.”

She closed her eyes and nodded, leaning into the touch.

Scotch was familiar with the forceful steel of Lainey’s personality. This hint of vulnerability slipped free of that and the rare moment called to her. Ever since her aborted attempt to kiss Lainey, she had forced herself to stay aloof. They never discussed what had happened in the dog barn, and for a time Scotch was not even sure Lainey had realized what had almost occurred. But this felt too right to pass up. Scotch leaned forward and brushed her lips against Lainey’s, her desire overshadowing her vow of abstinence and fear of driving the woman away.

Far from being appalled at the forward behavior, Lainey returned the kiss, her hand drifting up to touch Scotch’s. It was sweet and gentle, and Scotch fought the urge to demand more. Now was not the time. She only wanted Lainey to know she was there for her, a friend to support her rather than a sex crazed roommate.