Broken Trails

“Come on, sexy. Time to get up.”

“Mmmm. I’m up,” Scotch mumbled, her eyes still closed.

“Liar.” Lainey eased her hand along Scotch’s torso, fingers lightly pressing along her ribs.

Scotch jerked her eyes open. “No tickling!”

“Are you going to get up?”

“Yes!”

Lainey grinned. She dug into Scotch’s ribs once, and was nearly bucked off by the exuberant response before she released her.

“That was mean.” Scotch pouted, half sitting up in the bed.

“You’ll thank me, later. It’s after two and you need to eat before going.”

Scotch rubbed her face and stared at the alarm clock. “Yeah, you’re right.” She yawned and scratched her head. “Is that coffee?”

“Yup.” Lainey leaned across her to retrieve the cup. She froze as Scotch caressed her back and rear. “This isn’t getting out of bed.” Her heart thumped in her chest as the hand eased down her thigh.

“Maybe not, but it’s certainly waking me up.”

Lainey chuckled and forced herself away from Scotch’s touch, handing her the coffee. “Me, too. And I didn’t need waking up, thank you.”

Scotch sipped from her cup. “That’s a matter of opinion.”

Amused, Lainey shook her head and got out of bed. “Come on, Fuller. You have a race to win. A little slap and tickle will interrupt your rest / run schedule too much.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Scotch said, mournfully.

“Molly said to tell you she has a bowl of ham and beans waiting for you in the kitchen.”

Scotch’s countenance cleared up, and she licked her lips. “Well, why didn’t you say so? Let’s get going.”

CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

AS MUCH AS Lainey wanted to see Scotch off, she had her own chores to complete. Howry drove Scotch to the checkpoint, leaving Lainey to wave after them as they departed. Her last sight of Scotch had been the woman’s profile as they turned off the street and went around a corner. Chances were good that they would only see each other for an hour or two over the next few checkpoints. Scotch would then be running too far ahead of Lainey to catch.

Lainey spent the next hour at Molly’s getting the last of her things together and the laundry finished. Over her misgivings, Molly insisted on stuffing her washer to the brim with dog coats, and Lainey had to admit that the new appliance was up to the sturdy task for which it had been drafted. Strauss sat at the kitchen table, officially interviewing her for the Cognizance article as she worked, accompanied by Molly’s husband who added his own mushing wisdom to the discussion. Then Molly insisted on grilling up cheese and tuna sandwiches for a quick lunch, wrapping several in tin foil and pushing them into Lainey’s already laden arms as she headed out the door.

“Thank you so much for putting me up,” Lainey said as she climbed onto the snow machine, clutching her bundle of gear and food.

Molly smiled. “You just get to Nome, honey. That’ll be thanks enough. I’ll be listening to the reports.” She remained on her porch, a shawl wrapped around her house dress and mukluks on her feet, hardly noticing the two degree temperature. She waved as Strauss drove the snow machine out of the yard.

At the checkpoint, Lainey climbed off the snow machine. “Will I see you again?” she asked.

“Yeah. Don and I have been talking about flying into Ruby and then Unalakleet, weather permitting.”

“Great! I’ll see you then.” She turned away.

“Lainey?”

She looked over her shoulder at him.

“Take it easy, okay? I don’t want to lose my star photo journalist to an avalanche or something.”

Lainey grinned at him. “The worst is over, Ben. It might not all be smooth sailing to Nome, but it’s way better than what I’ve already been through.”

“I’m just saying.”

She grinned and returned to him, bussing his scruffy cheek. “Thanks. I will.” They said their good byes and she watched him go before trudging toward her sled.

The dogs were eager to see her, all of them awake and bright eyed. She walked through them, talking to and petting them for a few moments. Then she grabbed a dog harness and headed over to the drop point to pick up her new sled. It looked the same as the one she currently had, though with less wear and tear on it. She hooked the harness to the sled and put her arm through one of the loops, dragging the new vehicle back to her parking area.

As the team ate their lunch, she transferred everything, sled bag and all, from one sled to the other, carefully making certain to center the weight of the load this time. She did not want a repeat of her last crash. Soon the sled was packed to the ribs with the gear she carried in and the food drop she had distributed among her belongings. She placed the mandatory items and promotional packet in an easily accessible spot, grabbed the child’s sled, and left again for another water run.

With dog chow steeping in one cooler and too many Gatorade packets thawing in the other, she checked her watch. Damn, she only had twenty-five minutes. Where did the time go? It seemed like an hour ago she was marveling at having twelve solid hours of time to work with. Lainey ruefully shook her head.

She connected her old sled to the back of her new one rather than manually drag it back to the drop point. Then she went down the line of frisky and eager dogs, cleaning up their mess and booting their feet. Their excitement ratcheted up another level as she worked; they recognized the signs that they were getting back on the trail, and frolicked accordingly.

As impatient as her team was, Lainey knew better than to simply mush them toward the checkpoint. Just her luck, they would take off out of town and force her to turn them around so she could properly check out. Instead, she hooked a harness to the tug line in front of Sholo and Trace and led the team herself.

Leaving the parking area, she waved at Roman Spencer who was in the final stages of leaving himself. Despite coming into McGrath behind her, he was leaving before she was. A musher’s twenty-four hour break was where the Iditarod committee evened out the playing field. Lainey’s break had in actuality lasted twenty-five plus hours because she had left Anchorage well over an hour and a half before the last musher. The only people staying longer on their twenty-four were the second and third mushers out of the gate. When all the mushers had taken their twenty-four, her standings would reflect her true position in the race.

Lainey guided her team to the drop point where she unhooked the old sled, labeled for shipment back to the kennel, and dumped her trash and extra dog food. By the time she arrived at the checkpoint, she had three minutes to wait. Roman had already gone, and her dogs picked up his team’s scent, barking and surging forward in an attempt to catch them. A couple of volunteers stepped forward to hold them back, laughing at their anticipation.

“Looks like you’ve got a hell of a team,” the checker said, handing her his clipboard to sign out.

“I certainly do,” Lainey said with a contented smile.

“You’re due to depart at seven fifty-eight,” he said. He counted the time on his watch. “Which would be… five… four… three… two… one… now.”

“Ready!” Lainey called, warning the volunteers and getting her dogs’ attention. “Let’s go!”

The team took off at a full lope, rushing forward in an attempt to catch up with Roman’s team.

The trip to Takotna was as easy one, less that twenty miles. Lainey’s dogs took the trail down to the river smoothly. Less than a mile later, they climbed up the left bank and headed across frozen swamps and scattered tree lines. The trail was solid and well-marked, with just enough fresh snow to make it interesting. Roman’s tracks were easily visible and her dogs enthusiastic from their long break.