Broken Trails

Leaning back in his chair, Rye patted his belly in contentment. “That was wonderful,” he said to his mother who had begun clearing the table.

Helen Fuller, still clad in a bathrobe and slippers, put dishes in the sink for later washing. She wiped her hands on a towel. “Thank you.”

Scotch passed her, pausing to kiss her mother’s cheek. Dodging two-year-old Bon, who precariously balanced his silverware on his plate, Scotch rid herself of her dish before scooping him up.

“Sco’ help!” Bon exclaimed as his older sister lifted him high enough to put his brightly colored plastic plate with the rest.

“Bon help,” Scotch said. She planted him on her hip, reaching for a washcloth to remove the sticky residue of pancakes and syrup from his grinning face.

“So what’s up with a board meeting?” Rye asked, ruffling Bon’s white blond hair in passing, and returning to the table. “Is it that phone call you got last night?”

Scotch drifted back to her chair, and Bon contented himself for the moment to remain in her lap. “What phone call?”

“It was after you’d gone back to your cabin, dear,” her mother said. She sat down, and retrieved a notepad and pen from an armoire behind her. ‘shall we begin?”

Thomas Fuller nodded, and he wiped his red mustache and beard with a napkin. “The Fuller Kennel board of directors is called to order,” he said. “All members present and accounted for.”

Scotch smiled. She had been a member of the board since she was Bon’s age when the kennel had come into existence. Her parents had legally incorporated it and, at the birth of each child after, officially added a new member.

“Last night we got a call from a reporter for Cognizance.”

“They just published an article about the Iditarod,” Helen informed them.

Both Rye and Irish immediately looked at their sister. Scotch felt her face heat up. She smothered a shiver, and her entire being seemed to pause between one heartbeat and the next. It was similar to what she experienced when the team first took off from the starting line; anything could and would happen in the coming moments.

“They want to do an in-depth piece on Scotch for next year.”

Irish whooped, clapping her hands. Bon followed suit, enthusiastic as he enjoyed the atmosphere.

“That’s fantastic!” Rye said, when things died down. ‘so, why the meeting? What’s this got to do with the kennel?”

Thomas leaned back in his chair. “The reporter has requested to live and work here from sign up to the race next year.”

Scotch’s innards swooped low. It was one thing to get decent publicity, opening avenues of sponsors to help defray the costs of the kennel and racing itself. But to have some stranger living with her family? The idea of being under constant surveillance was creepy at best.

“Live here?” Irish asked, wrinkling her freckled nose. “I’m not giving up my room.”

“You won’t have to,” Thomas said.

“I get to move into my cabin?” Rye’s eyebrows rose in anticipation. The property was large enough that several cabins and out buildings had been erected over the years. As his sister before him, one was being built for his eighteenth birthday and official adulthood.

“Not at sixteen, mister,” his mother said.

Rye’s face fell.

“Well, providing we vote to accept him, where’s he going to sleep?” Scotch asked.

Her father grinned. “He’s a she, and there’s room at your place.”

“My place?” The entire idea was going beyond creepy now. “Why my place?”

“She’ll be here to do an article on you, honey,” Helen said. “What better place for her?”

Unable to argue the logic, Scotch held her tongue.

“This reporter, Miss Hughes, she says the magazine will either do an intensive issue after the race, or do a series of articles leading up to and past it.” Thomas leaned his elbows on the table. “You know how tight money is. She’s willing to pay room and board, and work at the kennel on top of things. With this exposure, Scotch, you could get national sponsorship. Hell!” He slapped the table, causing the detritus of their meal to rattle. “You might even get the magazine to sponsor you!”

Scotch considered her father’s words. Being intimately acquainted with the kennel and finances as all of them were, she saw the truth of his words. Granted, the Fullers were well enough off to afford nice things, but that was in large part due to Fuller Construction, Thomas’ business, and Helen’s veterinarian practice. The kennel itself paid for Scotch’s racing fees, and she spent summers running tours and adventures to bring in money to cover costs.

She weighed the absence of financial problems against the thought of some stranger living in her cabin with her. For months. What if this woman was a shrew, or a neat freak? What if she snored?

Realizing that everyone was looking to her for a cue, Scotch blushed, covering her embarrassment by jostling Bon who was still in her lap. “What did she sound like?” she asked, not pleased with the wistful tone in her voice.

Her father seemed to understand the true question. ‘she sounds excited with the idea. Apparently she was at the awards banquet, and that’s where she came up with it.” He gave his oldest daughter a serious look. “I think she’s done her research, and really wants to make this work.”

“Regardless of the vote, you are the most affected,” Helen said. “If you don’t want to go through with it, that’s that.”

Scotch scanned the people around the table. Her parents remained carefully neutral. In her arms, Bon clapped twice at the expectant feeling in the air, then made a dive for a slice of bacon still on the platter. She got it for him, and he succumbed to quietly nibble the meat. Irish watched with wide blue eyes, twirling a lock of strawberry hair with one hand.

It was Rye who gave her the answer. He all but yelled at her to accept the proposal with his expression. Still too young to run the Iditarod, he had placed well in the Junior Iditarod the previous two years, and was heavily involved with the Junior Alaskan and Sled Dog Racing Association. Any national exposure to his sister would naturally shine on him, as well.

The reporter would only be there a few months. Scotch would be so busy training through winter, she probably would not even notice the woman’s existence. The payoff would mean an easy season, free from financial concerns.

“All right. Let’s vote.”

“Those in favor of accepting Miss Hughes’ offer?” Thomas asked.

Everyone around the table raised their hands except Bon. Seeing the movement, he grinned and waved his half-.eaten bacon, almost swatting Scotch in the head.

“Whoa there!” she said, laughing with her family as she ducked out of the way.

“You’d better put that thing away before you poke an eye out.”

“Poke, poke!” Bon crowed at the attention.

“Meeting adjourned,” Thomas said, standing. “I’m going to call that reporter, and give her the good news.”

Scotch watched him leave. Bon demanded down, and he slid out of her lap. Everyone else took her father’s lead, and stood. Chores needed doing, even on a fine Sunday morning. As she helped finish clearing the table, Rye leaned close, his voice low.

“You won’t regret it, sis. This is a hell of an opportunity for you.”

She risked a glance at their mother when he cursed. ‘mind your tongue or Mom’s going to cut it off.”

He grinned impishly, and sauntered away with a handful of plates.

Watching him, she hoped he was right.

CHAPTER FOUR

End of June

SCOTCH STARED NERVOUSLY at the airstrip before her, tapping a staccato on the steering wheel in time with a bluegrass tune on the radio. The June morning had dawned beautifully, the temperature sitting at a balmy fifty-eight degrees. It was expected to reach sixty-five before the day was through, a perfect day to welcome a pair of newcomers.