Broken Trails

Even with the promising response, she ended the kiss, reminding herself that Lainey had never shown an inclination toward sleeping with women. Wishful thinking would not change fact. She leaned her forehead against Lainey’s a moment, regaining her equilibrium. “Are you okay?” Scotch opened her eyes to see Lainey peering at her.

“Yeah. I’m good.”

Nodding, she released her and sat back. “As I said, you have to learn to gut the carcass. Watch closely.” With businesslike movements she began the process, not speculating on Lainey’s lack of complaint at the liberty she had taken.

CHAPTER TWENTY

WHEN THEY ARRIVED at the kennel, they were met by friends, family and neighbors alike. Howry, Thom, and Lafferty, alerted by the dogs in the yard, stood out on the back deck. Rye and Irish had returned from their races, and promptly set to work taking over Lainey’s team despite her insistence that she was supposed to take care of them.

“You’ve done more than enough today,” Irish said in no uncertain terms. Her manner was brisk and business like as she turned Lainey away. “Get over to the clinic and check on Cochise.”

Lainey still felt a little numb from the ordeal, but recognized Helen’s mannerisms in the nine year old.

“Don’t argue with a Fuller woman,” Thom said, draping an arm around Lainey’s shoulder. He and the other men had gathered at her sled to look over the moose carcass. “It’s a lost cause.”

She glanced at Scotch who was snacking her dogs again before kenneling them. Her lips tingled at the remembered kiss, knowing that her promise to not come on to the woman had not been as strong as she had thought. It had shattered in that instant like the thin, beautiful icicle it was, and there was no going back.

Scotch glanced up from checking one of her dogs and smiled at her. “I think you’re right.”

Thom chuckled. “I’m right. I’ve just had a few years to get used to the idea.” He released her and turned to Lafferty. “Since you were kind enough to help out, what do you say to a couple of steaks for dinner tonight?”

“That sounds like a fine idea.” Lafferty licked his lips.

Lainey shuddered. It had been horrible having to gut the moose and carry it home. She did not want to know where her meat came from, preferring the tidy package found in the butcher’s department at the grocery store. Unfortunately, even the Fullers diet held a large proportion of game rather than hamburger. Subsistence hunting and fishing was an Alaskan institution.

She stepped away from her sled, and headed for the clinic.

“How are you?”

Lainey gave Howry a wan smile. “I’ve been better.”

He walked with her, hands in his pockets. “I heard Lafferty say you got a hell of trophy there. He thinks that moose is close to a thousand pounds.”

“It sure felt that way,” she said, shaking her head. “I’m going to be so sore tomorrow. I’m surprised Scotch and I were able to get it into the sled at all.”

He was silent a moment. “How did you get it loaded, anyway?”

“After a lot of messing around, we finally harnessed our wheel dogs together, wrapped rope around the carcass, and used the dogs to roll it into the sled.”

“Should prove to be an interesting article, huh?” he said. “Intrepid reporter takes down bull moose in the wilds of Alaska.”

Lainey snorted, but said, “It might sell copy, but it’s not something I want to repeat.”

“Were you scared?”

“Terrified,” she agreed.

“I would be, too.”

She debated on whether or not to admit to Scotch kissing her, but remained silent. He would figure it out sooner or later; he was an astute man. Until then it was her secret. She and Scotch needed to sit down and have a serious talk about where things were going anyway. The closer the Iditarod came, the less inclined Lainey was to upset the training - not for Scotch’s sake, but for her own. As stupid as the original premise had been, the racing fever had rooted firmly in her heart and, come hell or high water, Lainey was going to be at that starting line in Anchorage come March. She would much rather do it without the emotional turmoil that hung over her head, however.

They took the steps up to the cabin that housed the veterinary hospital two at a time. The waiting room was empty though the lights blazed against the early Alaskan sunset. Lainey stomped snow from her mukluks and promptly shed her bloodstained parka.

“Helen?”

“In here,” came the answer. “Second door on the left.”

Lainey hastened down the hall, Howry on her heels. “How is he?” she asked, entering the examination room.

Cochise lay on the table, his breathing easy. Stark white bandages covered his eye, a hint of pink blushing the center. His chest was tightly wrapped, and he was unconscious. Lainey went to his side to run her hands over his fur.

Helen, wearing a white smock over a heavy ribbed sweater, smiled. “Actually quite good. He’s got a couple of cracked ribs, but I think they’re nothing more than hairline fractures. No internal bleeding. There’s damage to the eye - we won’t know whether he’s lost his sight for a couple of weeks. He’ll have a grand headache when the drugs wear off.”

Lainey’s shoulders slumped in relief and tears spilled down her cheeks. “Thank God.” Cochise would live through his injuries, maybe even heal well enough to pull a sled again. She had been intensely worried that the moose had done serious damage to him.

“What exactly happened?” Helen asked. “I know there was a moose in the trail, but how did Cochise get hurt?”

Lainey explained the incident to both of them, how she had not seen the moose until it was too late, trying to get the dogs out of danger, and the ultimate act of killing the animal as it began a rampage through her team. By the time she was finished, she found herself sitting on a stool, shaking and crying, feeling very much like a complete idiot. Howry handed her a handkerchief and she blew her nose while he rubbed her shoulders. She heard footsteps and looked up to see Helen returning from somewhere with a glass of clear liquid in her hand.

“Here. Drink this down. Doctor’s orders.”

Lainey almost did, but caught a pungent whiff of alcohol. Her entire being sang with the need to bring it to her lips, the yearning almost overwhelming in its strength. Instead, she handed it to Howry. “No, thank you.”

Helen gave her an odd look.

Howry drained the glass in one swallow and wheezed. “Good!” he gasped.

“How long?”

“Four years, eleven months, and twenty-two days,” Lainey said without a pause.

Helen gave her a respectful nod.

“What the hell is this?” Howry asked, handing her the glass.

Smug, Helen took it from him and set it on a nearby counter. “White lightning. Not everybody pays cash for my services, you know.”

“Mom?”

“In here.”

Scotch arrived in the door, her expression worried as she scanned Lainey’s tear stained face.

“It’s all right, Scotch. He’ll be fine.”

She leaned against the door jamb, and blew out a breath. “Good.” She dislodged her cap and ran a hand through her hair.

“He’s out of the running this year,” Helen said. “But I expect him to heal up fine for another season.”

Her manner was a weird echo to Irish’s out at the sled, and Lainey fought to not laugh. She saw the answering humor in Scotch’s eyes, and felt warmed to her toes.

Helen continued, not noticing their distraction. “Now I want both of you to get a change of clothes and get up to the main cabin for a hot shower. Thom should have the grill going by then, and dinner will be not long after.” No one moved. “Scoot!”