Across a Thousand Miles (17 page)

“Hey, if it's okay with you, I'd really like to feed and straw my dogs. Then you can finish checking them over.”

“Well, all right, I guess,” the vet said, deferring to Mac's request.

Dawson City was the only checkpoint where handlers were allowed to help the mushers with feeding and caring for the teams. Brian was ready to pitch in and take
over completely, but Mac had no intention of letting him. “I'm okay,” he told his brother. “I'll take care of them and then you can stand guard while I catch some shut-eye.”

“I've got the tent set up—you could go right in and sack out. I do know how to take care of a team of sled dogs.” Brian was clearly miffed that Mac didn't want his help, but Mac was thinking about Brian selling the team, and the thought disturbed him more than he cared to admit.

“How were the Black Hills and King Solomon's Dome?” Brian asked, referring to some of the hardest stretches Mac had covered.

“No problems,” Mac said, pouring the boiling water into the cooler and giving the frozen meat mix a stir. “The dogs are running great.”

“How about Merlin?”

“He only steered me wrong once, and that was on the first day. He turned off the race trail and led us up this long, winding stretch—”

“That leads to Joe Willard's cabin?” Brian interrupted, laughing. “We took a rest break there last year. Merlin must have thought you wanted to visit with Joe, too.”

“Well, I'll be damned,” Mac said, looking at Merlin. “He's a terrific dog.”

“Well, I have to tell you, they all look terrific. You must be doing something right. Rebecca's team looks pretty solid, too.”

“She has a real nice team.”

“Look, Mac, if you're mad about something…”

“I'm not mad. I'm just tired.” Mac poked at the hot water and meat mix. The meat had thawed, so he added
the premeasured sack of dry kibble and stirred some more.

“I fixed you some food,” Brian said. “It's waiting for you inside the tent. A big pot of chili, guaranteed to stick to your ribs! There's a little propane heater in there, too, so it's nice and warm. You should sleep like a baby.”

“Thanks.” Mac dished the food out to his hungry dogs, and only after they had cleaned their bowls did he unhook and unharness them, and allow them to curl up on their deep beds of straw. The picket line ran right alongside the tent, so he'd be able to hear what was going on with his team, and Brian had picked a good spot, on the outer edge of the checkpoint where foot traffic and disruptions would be minimal. He wanted the dogs to get a good long rest here, and being stared at and petted by spectators was not what they needed.

He glanced over to where Rebecca stood. Having already fed and bedded down her team, she was talking to the Dodges and Kanemoto. She caught his eye, smiled and held up her hand. She was dangling something enticingly, and he walked toward her to see what it was.

“Sam and Ellin rented a hotel room so we could take a shower,” she said as he approached. “We both get a key.” She tossed him the key she was holding. “Pretty good, huh?”

“A shower?” he said, staring at the key. The number 22 was stamped in white, below the hotel's name.

“That's right. It's this metal apparatus attached to the bathroom wall from which hot water bursts forth in a strong, steamy spray,” Rebecca said. “As soon as I'm finished with the vet, it's mine. For at least two hours.”

“Okay, you got it.” Mac grinned, then nodded to Sam and Ellin. “Thanks. You have no idea…”

“Oh, we can guess.” Ellin laughed. “There's everything you need in the room. Soap, shampoo, razors, shaving cream, comb, hairbrush, toothbrushes…”

Mac rubbed his face. He glanced at Rebecca. “Suddenly it doesn't feel much like a race, does it?”

“For the next thirty-six hours, it isn't,” she said. “Enjoy them.”

 

H
OT WATER
. Lovely, steamy, hot water. Good pressure. Great shower. The water needled, pierced, sluiced. Rebecca had long since finished washing, soaping, scrubbing, and was now simply standing beneath the powerful spray, almost asleep on her feet. For the past thirty minutes she had been standing with her eyes closed, feeling her muscles slowly unbind and the ice in the marrow of her bones thaw. She had used up four hours of her thirty-six-hour layover since arriving in Dawson City, and a full forty-five minutes had been spent in the shower. She guessed it was probably the longest shower she'd taken in her entire life, and she blessed the hotel's robust water-heating system.

She turned off the shower when she realized her body was weaving. Ellin had also provided, bless her thoughtful heart, a brand-new set of underwear. A pair of white cotton bikini briefs, size five, and a white cotton camisole with a tiny pink rose embroidered on it. Rebecca dried off, slipped into the new undergarments and began to comb out her towel-dried hair. She sat on the edge of the king-size bed and worked patiently through her long locks, and when that was done she picked up her watch. Eleven a.m. She glanced at the window. Daylight glowed through the sheers. She thought about her dogs. They'd be fine with Kanemoto watching them, and if
anything seemed wrong, he'd promised to tell her right away.

Rebecca lay back on the bed with a blissful sigh. Her eyes closed. It would be very easy to fall asleep. Very easy to curl up on this wonderfully firm mattress in this lovely warm room and just sleep and sleep and sleep… Her stomach growled but she ignored it. Hunger could wait. Sleep…sleep was what she needed. Sleep… But that pleasure would have to wait. First she had to get dressed, go back out into the cold. Mac would be coming to use the shower very soon. Mac in the shower…hmmm. Mac naked in the shower…

She'd have to wait for him to leave before sneaking back here and ensconcing herself in the bed. She had to get up right now and get dressed… She'd better do it soon, better open her eyes and move or else…she might… just…fall…asleep….

 

M
AC HAD THE HOTEL-ROOM KEY
in one hand and a huge overloaded pizza in the other. He bounded up the hotel stairs three at a time, counting the seconds until he could stand in the hot shower, counting the minutes until he could devour the pizza. Sleep? Sleep could wait. There were far more important things to attend to!

He shoved the key into the lock and turned it. The door swung inward, and he had taken two big strides into the room before he saw her. Rebecca. Lying on the bed sound asleep. He stopped so abruptly that he almost lost his grip on the pizza box. What to do? He stood in silence, the door still open, Rebecca was curled on her side, no blanket over her, no coverlet, clad in white bikini briefs and a white camisole top. Her hands were clasped, childlike, beneath her cheek, and her long, dark, beautiful hair fanned across the pillow.

He took one step backward, one hand on the doorknob, one hand gripping the pizza box. His heart raced. He swallowed. For the moment the shower and the pizza were forgotten and the only thing in his universe was the woman lying on the bed. The woman he had come to admire so greatly. The woman he loved.

A door banged down the hallway and there was the sound of approaching footsteps. Mac hesitated, then stepped inside and closed the door firmly enough to wake her. She didn't stir. Her breathing was slow and steady. He reconsidered. If he slunk quietly into the bathroom, chances were she'd never hear him in the shower. He could be out of the room in ten minutes and she'd never even know he'd been there.

Mac set the pizza on the desktop. He opened the closet door quietly, and yes, there was a spare blanket, which he shook out and very gently laid over her. He needn't have worried. He could probably have shouted into her ear and not woken her. He stood over her for a moment, feasting his eyes on her the way he never quite dared when she was awake. He toyed with the idea of kissing her cheek, but the idea brought the heat to his face and left him feeling embarrassed. He dragged himself away, turning for one last look before he closed the bathroom door behind him.

Five minutes later he was sure he had died and gone to heaven.

Twenty minutes later he reemerged amidst a billowing cloud of steam and reached for the pizza box, surprised to find it so light. He opened the top. Three pieces were missing. He glanced at Rebecca still lying on the bed. “Hey,” he said.

She opened her eyes slowly. “Sorry,” she said with a guilty smile. “I had a dream about this giant pizza,
and all of a sudden I woke up and there it was, right beside the bed, still hot.” She smiled again and stretched languorously. “Thanks, Mac. Once again you saved my life.” She looked him up and down with her sleepy eyes. “I see you found the shower. Nice boxer shorts. Isn't that a Mickey Mouse design?”

He grinned unabashedly. “There was a package in the bathroom with my name on it and I—”

“I know. I had one of those packages, too, and I'm wearing it.”

“Sam and Ellin are amazing,” Mac said, lifting a piece of pizza out of the box and stuffing the tip of it unceremoniously into his mouth. He sat down on the edge of the bed and didn't stop chewing until the last piece, refused by Rebecca, was devoured, and then he stared forlornly at the empty box.

“I'm sorry,” Rebecca said. “You're still hungry.”

“I could get us another one,” Mac offered.

“Why don't you take a nap first? By eight o'clock we'll both be starving again. You could get two more pizzas. One for each of us. And a six-pack of beer.”

Mac looked at her, his expression cautiously optimistic. “Are you inviting me to stay?”

“It would be cruel of me to deny you what by right is your half of this bed. You need it as much as I do. But no hanky-panky. Race rules prohibit it.”

Mac didn't have to think very long about Rebecca's proposal. The alternative, sleeping in a two-person tent on the edge of the noisy checkpoint while his brother Brian prodded him about the race and brought prospective buyers to view the team, was infinitely less desirable. He crushed the pizza box, stuffed it into the wastebasket and climbed into his side of the bed. “I'd better warn you in advance,” he said as he pulled the covers
over him. “There's a possibility that I might snore like a lumberjack.”

Rebecca opened her eyes. “How strong a possibility?”

“I'm pretty damn tired.”

“Well, we've been sleeping within earshot of each other for the past five days and I've never heard you snore. Don't lose any sleep over it. I know I won't.”

He shifted his shoulders and drew a deep breath. “Are you sure about no hanky-panky? I don't remember reading about that in the race rules.”

Rebecca curled onto her side, her back toward him and drew the blanket up over her shoulder. “Positive,” she said, but in fact, she wasn't. The only thing she was truly positive about was that she wanted him beside her in that bed. She wished that he would move closer, that he would roll over and put his arms around her and draw her into his strong, warm embrace. She was losing the struggle to keep herself aloof and apart from him, and she feared that if Mac ever suspected how she felt, they'd never finish the race.

 

R
EBECCA
,
IN SPITE OF
her emotional torment, finally slept, and her sleep was deep and blissfully dreamless. When she awoke there was a moment of disorientation. She didn't know where she was or why she was there. She rolled over and looked at the other half of the bed.

Empty. She sat up, pushing her hair away from her face. “Mac?”

The bathroom door was ajar and the light was on, faintly illuminating the dark room, but no reply came from within.

Mac was gone.

Rebecca reached for her watch on the bedside table.
The luminous dials read 9 p.m. She flopped back onto the bed with a moan. Eight hours! She'd slept eight hours straight without twitching a muscle! She could have slept longer, truth be known, except that she was hungry. Starving! She sat up again. She'd get dressed, walk down and check on her team, find some food. A lot of food. Tons and tons of edibles she could stuff into her mouth to satiate the lions that roared in her stomach.

She pushed out of bed, washed her face in the bathroom with lovely warm water, brushed her teeth, finger-combed her hair and contemplated leaving it loose. Looked in the corner of the bathroom for her stack of arctic clothing and did a double take. Gone! Her long underwear, her fleece pullover, her bibs, her parka—all gone! She made a quick search of the bedroom, thinking she might have stashed all of it elsewhere in her previously catatonic state, but there wasn't a trace. Even her hat and gloves were gone. Her mitts and boots were the only two items remaining to remind her that she was a musher driving a team of dogs in the Yukon Quest.

She was standing in the middle of the room in a state of confusion when a key turned in the lock and the door opened. Mac entered, shrinking the room, filling it with his energy. He had a huge duffel slung over one shoulder and a large brown paper bag cradled in one arm. He grinned when he saw her, slung the duffel onto the bed and held up the paper bag in both hands as if it were a religious icon. “Chinese food!” he announced.

“Where are my clothes?” she asked, snatching the spare blanket off the bed and wrapping it around her.

“In the duffel, all clean. Ellin took them to the Laundromat. Jeez, that woman thinks of everything. C'mon, let's eat. I've got enough food here to patch hell forty miles. Hope you like Szechuan chicken, egg rolls, fried
rice, wonton soup, beef with broccoli, barbecued pork ribs and Guinness stout.” Mac began unloading the bag's contents onto the desk, paper carton after bulging paper carton. The smell of Chinese food permeated the room. He pulled a bottle of beer out of the six-pack, flipped the top off with his jackknife and handed it to her.

“Okay, here's the scoop,” he said. “I've checked on the teams. They're fine. Kanemoto is following your instructions to the letter. He's feeding them every six hours, massaging them, smearing that special liniment of yours on their muscles, giving them the vitamin supplements, putting neoprene sweats on the six dogs you specified, walking each dog for ten minutes after each meal and letting them sleep the rest of the time. Here's a fork and spoon. We can eat our soup first and use the containers as a plate.” Rebecca took the offered plastic cutlery and the container of hot wonton soup. “I checked out the other teams, too. I'd like to tell you that the front-runners' dogs were tuckered out, lame and off their feed, but, lady, they looked good. We'll have our work cut out for us, catching up to them.” Mac began spooning the soup into his mouth and then impatiently lifted the container and drank from it directly. He was finished in less than a minute. “God, that was good!” He began breaking open the boxes with the frantic motions of a starving man.