Broken Trails

This part of the race was ceremonial. The real race began the next day in Wasilla. No matter how fast she arrived at Eagle River, she would still be third out of the chute tomorrow. Still, her dogs wanted to burn off energy, and doing so now would be beneficial. They would settle down for the official restart and be easier to handle.

“Passing!” she called, warning the man she was coming up on his side. As her team began to overtake his, three of her dogs began barking at the competition. She grinned, having heard from other mushers that this was called trash talking. Her dogs yelled happily as they passed, probably making comments about the parentage and skills of their rivals. Montana and Chibee were the worst, watching the opposing team as they easily passed, smiling and shining as they went. The surprising one was Himitsu, a three year old male with yellow brown fur. He was always so polite and quiet, that his sudden voice was unexpected.

Lainey waved to number eleven as they passed, her trash talkers jostling each other and sneaking looks backwards. They acted exactly like teenaged boys having just pulled off a prank against the high school principal. She laughed with them, fully relaxing for the first time in days. Her team eased into a steady pace, ears pricking back to hear her chuckles.

All along the path people gathered, standing in front of their homes to cheer the mushers on. She followed a power line, seeing the next musher ahead. With little provocation, her dogs picked up speed. As they neared, she saw a group clustered on the side of the trail handing something to the musher.

“What are they doing?” Strauss yelled, looking up at her from the sled bed.

“No idea,” she said.

The crowd held a few signs - ‘Go Iditarod Mushers!’ - and began calling encouragement as she closed with them. One woman reached out with something in her hand. Lainey automatically stretched out, and took what was given. She grinned at the large homemade muffin she now held and turned to wave her thanks before putting it into her snack bag.

Her three recalcitrants began bellowing insults again, and Lainey returned to warn musher number ten that she was passing. If her team could maintain this enthusiasm for the next two weeks, she would be well set for the race. Granted, the chances of that were slight, even with the high level of care the dogs would receive, but it would make for a great article if the rookie came in second or third.

The path passed a park and followed bicycle trails for a bit. They skirted the Campbell Airstrip, and Lainey saw a group of race officials ahead.

“This is where you get off,” she said to Strauss.

“All right,” he responded. “I’ll see you at Eagle River. I may fly with Don along the race, but if I don’t I’ll definitely be in Nome when you get there.”

When, not if. Lainey laughed. “I’d love the company.” She called the dogs to a halt. They obeyed the command, their initial gusto mellowed with the miles they had run.

Strauss climbed out of the sled and took her hands. “Thanks for the ride. It was exhilarating.”

“Anytime,” she said. Then she left off the brake and ordered the dogs onward, only Rye on his sled trailing behind her.

The rest of the trip was calm and easy. Her team did not overtake any others, but she no longer minded the delay of their early detour. Eventually she came to a long hill, the trail thronged with cheering people. The VFW was ahead, and it looked like another circus in the making. It was only past noon, and she looked forward to an afternoon of celebrating with the Fullers. The true start of the Iditarod was the following day, and from then on, she would be alone with her dogs on the last great race.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

IF LAINEY THOUGHT she would be leaving civilization after the restart of the race, she was immediately disabused of the notion. The crowds were still in evidence in Wasilla and Scotch had told her that they would be on the trail all the way to Knik and beyond. According to Howry, who was keeping his ear to the ground as a good newsman should, there were anywhere from fifteen to seventeen thousand Iditarod fans crowding the narrow chute out of town alone. This time Lainey was through the worst of her attack of nerves. She ignored what she could, concentrating on her dogs and focusing on the fans who showed up looking for photos and autographs. When things got too claustrophobic, she distracted herself further with the memory of Scotch’s good bye kiss this morning. The veteran musher had pulled all the stops out, a harbinger of the passion to come when they both arrived in Nome, and Lainey licked her lips at the recollection. As it had been the day before, several handlers were needed to keep her dogs in line. They yelped and shouted in excitement, all sixteen of them ready to run. It seemed that the twenty mile run the day before had done little to dampen their enthusiasm.

A checker came to her sled and she opened the bright yellow bag to show her mandatory gear. Not only were the usual items in place, but there was a packet of mail and promotional material she was required to deliver to Nome. If she lost any of it, she would be disqualified from the race. Other than the necessary items, she had little else. She and Scotch had sent their primary racing sleds to Knik with the dog trucks. There they would transfer their belongings before heading out into the wilderness. Those were more rugged and packed to the ribs with everything they would need.

“Everything’s there,” the checker said. She made a mark on her clipboard. “Have a good race.”

“Thanks!” Lainey said, and the checker went down the line to the next musher.

“Lainey.”

She turned to see Howry approaching, a wide grin on his face.

“Ready to go?” he asked, giving her a hug.

“You know it,” she said, waving at the antics of her team.

He held out an envelope. “Scotch wanted me to give this to you. She said not to read it until you reach the end of your rope.”

The urge to rip it open right there was powerful, but Lainey restrained herself. She saw Scotch’s neat handwriting on the front and smiled softly. “Thanks,” she said as she tucked it securely in her personal bag.

Howry shuffled his feet and she gave him a quizzical look.

“Ben’s been hinting around, asking me questions about you two. What do you want me to tell him?”

Lainey sighed, knowing the topic would be inevitable after the musher banquet. “Go ahead and tell him the truth. It’s not like he hasn’t figured it out by now. He just wants verification.”

“You sure?” he asked, brow furrowed. He knew Strauss only on a professional level, and appeared worried he might make things more difficult for Lainey.

“I’m sure. He’s my AA sponsor and my friend. He might not like that I led him on in the beginning, but he’ll get used to the idea.”

Howry blew out a breath. “If you say so.”

She grinned and gave him another hug. “I say so.”

A loudspeaker announced the upcoming official start of the race, and Lainey pulled away from the embrace.

“I think that’s me.”

He laughed. “I’d say so. We’re going to take your sled to Knik and then fly to Finger Lake, so we’ll see you there.”

“Ben, too?” Lainey saw a volunteer trotting toward her.

“Yeah, Ben, too.”

“I’ll see you then,” she said, as she stepped onto the runners of her sled. Her last sight of him was his wave as the handlers guided the dogs to their position.

The start was very similar to the day before. A large, prismatic crowd gathered along the barriers on either side of the trail, many calling her name and holding signs of encouragement. Her dogs, sixteen strong now, were just as lively. Her wild man, Jonas, hardly touched the ground as he reared up off all four paws. Even Bonaparte, regal snout in the air, wagged his tail and trotted with a swagger at all the attention.