Broken Trails

Lainey glanced back up the perilous trail. “What if he’s injured?” She saw the same concern in Scotch’s eyes.

“We don’t know where he lost the team. If it was as far back as the first descent, it could take us hours to get there by sled. Chances are good someone has already found him coming from the other direction.” She led the dogs toward the trees. “If he’s closer, it’d still be better for us to get to the checkpoint and notify someone. They can get to him faster with a snow machine.”

Nodding, Lainey helped get the sled into position and tied the snub line to a tree. She set the snow hook as firmly as possible. “Isn’t this considered outside assistance? Won’t we get in trouble or be disqualified?”

Scotch opened the sled bag and located the Iditarod promotional package. “No, this is a legal action. If he’s near enough to walk, great. Or he can hitch a ride with another team; it’s one thing to assist someone to keep going when they should scratch. It’s another to leave somebody out here in the bush to die.” She found the bib number so she could notify the committee who it was and put things away.

She and Lainey returned to their sleds, their dogs eager to get going again.

“This ever happen to you?”

Scotch’s face reddened, but she smiled. “Yeah. Once. My first Yukon Quest. A sweeper got me while I was dozing on the sled. Knocked me flat.” She chuckled. “I walked for an hour or more before I found the team tied off the trail waiting for me.”

Lainey grinned. “Just returning the favor, huh?”

“Yup.”

At their parking spots, they split up and went to their respective sleds. As they urged their teams forward, Lainey spared one glance back at the dogs curling up to take a nap as they awaited their lost owner.

CHAPTER THIRTY

THE IDITAROD UTILIZED one of the small cabins skirting Rainy Pass Lodge as a checkpoint and Lainey accompanied Scotch until they reached the small crowd of volunteers gathering there. It was rather fortuitous that Scotch’s team led the way; when young Chibee noticed a herd of horses near the lodge, he voiced a howl and attempted to break ranks and give chase. The rest of Lainey’s team chose to follow the familiar scent of Scotch’s dogs, and Chibee was forced to abandon his pursuit.

“Five fifty-six PM. Welcome to Rainy Pass,” the checker said. He marked her time and grinned as he looked at her head. “Nice hat,” he said, gesturing at her with a pencil.

“Thanks!” Lainey chuckled. She tugged on it. “I think I deserve about a dozen more of them.”

“I hear you,” the checker agreed. “Maybe you’ll get a hundred for the Farewell Burn.”

“Man, don’t remind me!” Lainey glanced at his clipboard, pleased to note she had not dropped behind the mid thirties placing. “Scotch and I found a team with no musher just on the edge of Puntilla Lake. We tied them down there.”

“All right.” He wrote something on his paperwork. “We’ll get somebody out there to check on the situation.” He waved her on to the veterinarians waiting nearby.

She quickly fell into the checkpoint routine, assisting the vets with her dogs, picking up her food drop, and going over her team with a critical eye. All the animals seemed in good spirits, though Heldig’s paws appeared a little worse for wear. Lainey used a different salve for the pads of Heldig’s feet, telling her in no uncertain terms that she was going to staple her booties on if things continued this way. The dog was less than impressed, kissing Lainey’s nose with impudence.

As Lainey continued her camp chores, a handful of reporters surrounded her, joined by Ben Strauss. Her friend stood back, allowing the others to ask questions about the trail through Happy River Valley. Several took pictures of her new headgear. When she mentioned her trainer, Scotch, had a lot to do with her successful arrival, they drifted away to get an interview with her as well.

Relieved at the loss of attention, Lainey finished cooking the dog food and loaded it into the cooler.

“That sounded pretty exciting.”

She grinned at Strauss. “I’ll say. I think you’d get a kick out of doing this. You should consider a leave of absence sometime and give it a go. You’re always into the dangerous survival stuff.”

“Maybe I will.” He gestured toward the lodge. “Come on. I’ll buy you dinner. The moose stew is good.”

Not wanting to get on the wrong side of the ‘no assistance’ rule, Lainey said, “Better yet, I’ll buy.”

Strauss shrugged agreement.

It felt a little odd to be leaving her team. She glanced over the sleeping dogs, oblivious to her departure. “They’ll be fine,” Strauss said, reading her mind. “A lot of the mushers grab a bite here rather than eat what they’re carrying. It’ll do you good to see people.”

She laughed. “All right! I’m convinced.”

They left the sled parking area and walked to the lodge. Even with the potential for a fresh cooked meal before her, Lainey stifled a yawn. It was the end of the second day and she had had about six hours sleep, total. She was probably doing better than most rookies were, having the experience of Scotch to draw upon. Lainey could not fathom doing this without the extensive training she had put herself through since June.

The lodge looked like what a lodge should look like. Walls of thick logs, rough hewn banisters on the large covered porch, and the requisite old dog drowsing by the door met Lainey’s gaze. She was surprised to see the musher Drew Owens sitting on a bench, hands in his parka pockets, feet stretched out and crossed at the ankles. He appeared to be sleeping, and she wondered why he would be napping out here rather than inside.

Strauss opened the door for her and Lainey stepped into a fairly busy establishment. A large dining room was off to the side and seemed to have quite a number of reporters, volunteers, and mushers enjoying each others’ company. Her arrival sparked a round of welcome and toasts, and Lainey waved at the diners as Strauss led her to a table.

The warmth here beat down upon Lainey, acclimated as she was to the frigid temperatures outside. She almost felt the sweat popping up on her forehead and she hastily began removing her outer clothes. The skin on her face stung and her sinuses began clogging as the tissue swelled up. By the time she reached Strauss’ table, she felt like her head was full of cotton. No wonder Owens was sleeping outside. If she had not offered to buy dinner, she would have turned around and gone back out to her dogs.

“Ugh,” she said, sitting down. Other mushers who braved the indoors were half clad, and she followed their lead, removing mukluks and liners, until only socks covered her feet. Next time she would bring her spare liners and fresh socks inside.

“What can I get you?” a man asked. “The moose stew is hot and ready or we can grill you up a sandwich, but that’ll take more than a few minutes.”

Lainey smiled despite her discomfort. “Served a lot of Iditarod mushers, have you?”

“Oh, yeah. We’re glad to keep our doors open every year for the race.”

“The stew will be fine. And about three gallons of coffee.”

The waiter took Strauss’ order and left the table.

“You okay?” Strauss asked.

Lainey rubbed her face. “Kind of fuzzy from the heat. It feels like I’ve got a sinus infection.”

“Interesting. I suppose it makes sense. You’ve literally been out in the weather for over forty-eight hours.”

“Yeah.” Lainey tried to breathe through her nose and failed. “Ugh.”

The food was delivered and she dug into the hot meal. Despite her physical discomfort from the heat, the stew triggered a massive hunger and she ate as if starved.