Across a Thousand Miles (6 page)

The trail veered suddenly and Merlin disappeared from sight, followed by five pairs of dogs, all running hard. The sled whipped around the corner, and Mac had a split second to assimilate several facts: One, he was airborne; two, his team was below him, descending an extremely steep bank that dropped onto the pack ice of the river; and three, when his sled came down to earth, there was going to be quite a spectacular crash.

And there was. He heard a high-pitched scream and thought for a moment that it had come from him, although it sounded like a woman's scream.

“Son of a bitch!” he roared just to hear his own voice, which to his relief sounded normal. “Whoa!” The dogs were still running. In fact, they were running faster than they ever had before, even though the sled was on
its side and he was being dragged along behind it, gripping the driving bow with all his strength. “Whoa! Merlin, whoa!”

He heard another scream, closer this time, and definitely not coming from him. The scream was followed by a steady stream of excited babbling in a foreign language.

“Kanemoto! Hold your team!” another voice, a woman's, firm and familiar, shouted in English. “Hideka! Run up and take your lead dogs! Hold them steady! No, Kanemoto, don't get off the sled! Stay on the brake! The brake! That's right! I'm going to try to catch that team!”

Oh, no, you're not, Rebecca Reed, Mac thought grimly as he struggled to right the capsized sled. He got one knee onto the bottom runner, ignoring the pain of the foot board digging into his kneecap. He got his second knee on it, and then both knees were jolted off and he was being dragged face down again. The ice hook was bouncing wildly beside his head, having flipped out of the sled bag when the sled capsized. He seized it with one mittened hand and in the same motion jammed the pointed tips into the ice. The sled stopped so suddenly that his head smashed into the driving bow. He jumped to his feet, jerked the sled back onto its runners and barely had time to get on again before his team lunged forward, ripping the ice hook loose, and galloping madly toward two oncoming teams.

There were screams from the passengers in the other sleds, snarls, barks and growls from the dogs on all three teams, and Rebecca's voice clashing with his own as they both shouted, “On by! On by!” to their leaders.

“Kanemoto!” Rebecca shouted. “Run with your sled! Don't let your team stop! Keep them moving!”

Rebecca was driving the first team, which passed Mac's flawlessly. As she came abreast of him, she gave him a brief up and down, an even briefer smile and a curt, “Hello, Mac. Nice recovery!” Then she turned her head and shouted encouragement to the three clients struggling with the team and sled behind her. The Japanese clients managed to keep their team moving, and soon Mac had the trail to himself again. He looked back to see that Rebecca's team was charging up the riverbank. Her clients' team followed close on her heels. When she reached the top, she raised her arm to him in a slow farewell wave. Her action startled him so much he didn't have time to wave back before she was gone.

 

R
EBECCA STOOD
under the hot, powerful, therapeutic stream of water in the Dodges' shower and let her muscles relax for the first time in more than a week. She was tired but she felt great. It had been a good trip, a profitable trip, and she couldn't wait to tell Ellin about the unexpected bonus she'd gotten. Rebecca squeezed more shampoo from the bottle and lathered her hair for the third time. The tension between her shoulder blades was beginning to ease as the forceful stream of hot water worked its magic.

She exited the bathroom in a huge cloud of steam dressed in clean clothes top to bottom, thick wool socks and expedition-weight fleece. She padded into the warm kitchen with the towel still wrapped in a thick, white turban around her wet hair. “Thank you, Ellin. Once again, you've saved my life.”

Ellin poured a second cup of tea and set it on the table. “Sit down and tell me what's gotten you so excited. You've been hopping up and down since you got here this morning.”

Rebecca dropped into a chair and pulled the tea toward her. “I can't believe it myself. It's a dream come true for me! Ellin, Kanemoto's coming back here in February.”

“That's wonderful! Two trips in one winter! He must be some kind of nut, but so long as he's rich, who cares!”

“No, Ellin, he's not coming back for another trip. He wants to be my handler for the Yukon Quest! We talked about the race a lot this past week. He's always wanted to be here for the running of it. He said how much fun it would be if he personally knew a team and driver. Then we began to discuss the possibility of
my
running the race!”

Ellin's eyes widened with surprise. She blinked rapidly and sat up straighter. “My dear, you never said anything about running the Quest this season.”

“I hadn't planned to. It's way too expensive. But Kanemoto has paid my entry fee, and Ellin, you know he usually gives me a tip at the end of each trip, a couple hundred dollars or so. But yesterday? Yesterday he writes me a check for five thousand dollars. Five
thousand
dollars! He hands it to me and says, ‘You get ready to run that race, Miss Reed. I'll be back to handle for you one week from race start!' Can you believe it!” Rebecca leaned forward, eyes sparkling. “I have my first official sponsor!” Then, after a brief pause, she said, “What's wrong, Ellin? I thought for sure you'd be excited for me.”

“Well!” Ellin said, composing herself quickly. “I am, my dear, I'm just surprised, that's all. That's something, all right!” Ellin took a sip of tea. “The Yukon Quest is a very tough race, Rebecca,” she cautioned.

“I've already talked to Donny about taking care of
the kennel for the two weeks I'll be gone. Oh, Ellin, I can't believe it!” Rebecca jumped out of her chair and paced to the woodstove and back. “I'll need to get my toboggan sled fixed—one of the rear stanchions is cracked and the bed plastic really needs to be replaced— and I'll have to buy some new harnesses. I think I have enough booties, but I'll have to check. Bruce has all the right gear—” She stopped suddenly and raised a hand to the towel wrapping her head. “Bruce
had
all the right gear,” she corrected slowly. “And I'm sure it's all still there, stashed out in the barn. His lightweight aluminum cooker, the training notebooks, those are important. I'll have to find them. Meat. I'll have to order some good ground meat in Whitehorse and feed the dogs really well. Then there are the food drops to organize. Oh Lord, the food drops! Ellin, you can't imagine the sleepless nights spent calculating how much dog food, people food and extra supplies needs to be shipped to each checkpoint before the race starts. Fortunately, all that information should be in Bruce's notebooks. He kept notes on everything. He…” She turned and looked at Ellin. “I wish I could tell him about this. He'd be so excited at the idea of his dogs running the Quest again.”

“I'm sure he would,” Ellin said quietly.

Rebecca returned to the table and sat down again with a happy sigh. “I can't wait!” She took a sip of tea. “I wonder if Mac's still planning on winning the Percy DeWolf.”

“He's been training,” Ellin said vaguely.

“Yes, I know. I met him on the river yesterday. He was dragging along quite nicely behind his sled.”

“Dragging?”

“Yes. On his face. Oh, Ellin, you should have seen it.” Rebecca couldn't stop the laugh that burst from her.
“His dogs came tearing over that steep bank by the Mazey Creek trail, and they were flying! Next comes his sled and it's airborne. I mean to say, it shoots out over the top of the riverbank at about twenty-five miles an hour, straight into the air, with Mac standing on the runners holding on for dear life!”

“And then what happened?” Ellin said.

“He crashed!” Rebecca said. “It was the most spectacular crash I've ever seen! I don't know what held that sled of his together or what kept him attached to it. But I'll say this much for him, he didn't let go. Slamming over that pack ice must have been brutal on his poor beat-up body, but he didn't let go of that sled.”

“I wondered why he was limping around this morning,” Ellin mused.

“Limping! I'm surprised he can even walk.” Rebecca wiped her eyes. “I'm sorry,” she said. “I know it's not the least bit funny, but I can't help it.”

“But, my dear, what did you do?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, didn't you try to help him?”

“I didn't have to. He got the sled stopped using his snow hook and managed to climb back onto the runners. I said hello when we passed.” Rebecca grinned and took a deep breath. “I think he was in a state of shock. He never said a word.”

Ellin regarded her for a silent moment and then shook her head. “Rebecca Reed, I do believe you have a cruel streak in you.”

“I guess I must have,” Rebecca confessed. “I haven't had such a good laugh in a long, long time. He's all right, isn't he?”

“If he were dying, he wouldn't say so.”

“Maybe we should call Sadie to come have a look at him.”

Ellin frowned. “There's little need of that. Sadie's been looking him over every day this week. She's after him, mark my words. She shows up every afternoon around feeding time, because she knows he'll be taking care of his dogs.”

“He's in good hands, then. I won't worry about him.”

“I should think you should. My dear girl, it's not Sadie he's interested in.”

“Ellin!” Rebecca warned.

“He's a good man, Rebecca,” Ellin said staunchly.

“Well, I don't know about that,” Rebecca said, standing up and stretching stiff muscles. “But if he keeps on the way he's going, he might make a good musher someday. He didn't let go of his sled.”

“I certainly hope you're right,” Ellin said, looking directly at her. “Because there's something you should know. Sam has fronted him the money to enter the Yukon Quest this year. Rebecca, Mac will be sharing the race trail with you all the way from Whitehorse to Fairbanks.”

Rebecca froze in midstretch. “You're kidding, right? Oh, Ellin, please tell me you're kidding!”

Ellin shook her head. “I wish I could, because I don't believe he's got the experience to run a thousand-mile race. But he believes he can. He also thinks he can finish in the money and win enough to pay you what he owes you.”

“Is that what this is all about? The money he owes me? Does he realize how tough a race the Quest is? Does he realize he'd be lucky just to finish it? And what about the expense of running it? Does he know how much that would set him back?” Rebecca slumped back into her
chair. “I can't believe it,” she said, shaking her head. “Mac actually thinks he's going to run the Yukon Quest. Well, he's in for a rude awakening. The race officials will never let him enter. He's not qualified!”

 

“S
O WHAT DO YOU THINK
of our Sadie Hedda?” Sam asked, leaning against the Stearman's fuselage.

“Sadie? Oh, she's a real good medic and a nice woman,” Mac replied, his voice deliberately noncommittal. His upper body was awkwardly wedged headfirst into the rear cockpit of the old plane. His legs were draped over the back of the pilot's seat, and he rested the heels of his stocking feet on top of the fuselage. He was silent for a moment, trying to decide whether to carry on this personal discussion. “Well, the truth is, Sam, she's coming on to me like a freight train, and I'm afraid if I stop running, she'll just mow me down.” Embarrassed, Mac coughed. “Could you hand me the safety wire pliers? Thanks.”

“Sadie's the kind of woman who sees what she likes and goes after it,” Sam explained slowly.

“I don't have a problem with women going after things. I just don't want to be gotten by her, that's all. And I don't know how to discourage her without hurting her feelings, but I guess there's no avoiding that. Ah! All done! I think that'll be just fine. You better check it over, though. Let's see what else I can play with while I'm in here…” Mac took a deep breath. “Sam, Sadie's a great girl, but the thing is, there's Rebecca.”

“I see.” Now Sam's voice was neutral. Mac waited for him to speak again. When he did, his tone was gruff with emotion. “Rebecca's like a daughter to us, Mac. I don't know what we'd do without her.” He glanced into
the open cockpit and shook his head cautiously. “She and Bruce were real close.”

“Yup,” Mac said heavily. “I got that part.”

“Sometimes, I think it's harder for a woman to cope with grief when the death is unexpected,” Sam said. “For a long time after Bruce died, Rebecca shut herself away from everyone and everything. Didn't eat, wouldn't speak, just sat in that lonely cabin and stared at the wall. For two whole weeks that went on, and then one day she just got up, went outside, and started running the dogs.”

“She's real good with the dogs.”

“Yes, she is. She loves those dogs,” Sam said. “In some ways, I think they saved her life.”

 

“W
ELL
,
THESE SWEET ROLLS
are done,” Ellin said, sliding the pan out of the oven. Why don't you go and fetch Sam? He's out in the hangar working on that plane of his. I swear he thinks more of that old thing than he does of me!”

“I doubt it,” Rebecca said, reaching for her parka. “But that antique flying machine definitely comes a close second.”

She had combed out her hair, but it was still damp, and in the frigid air the dampness crystallized as she walked across the packed snow of the yard toward the big Quonset hut. Sam always kept the old double-barrel stove roaring when he was working inside the hut, and the hangar was surprisingly comfortable even on the bitterest of days. Rebecca opened the door and slipped quickly inside, surprised to see Mac's dogs still tethered on their picket lines. She had assumed he'd be out training.