Brides of Alaska (39 page)

“I thought of that,” Rita said, sipping hot coffee. “I can do the feeding and care for the ones you pick out.”

“We'll work together to pick out twenty or thirty that look like good possibilities for the race. You can work with those dogs on a daily basis,” August stated. “We can choose them after breakfast, if that's all right with you.”

“Sounds good to me,” Rita replied. She looked forward to working with her father and, in spite of her worries about his health and age, Rita knew the kennel was his domain.

Half an hour later, Rita followed her father from dog to dog. The Eriksson kennel had over one hundred dogs, far more animals than had been there before Rita had gone to Anchorage. It was easy to see why August needed a partner.

After only ten minutes of listening to her father point out the virtues of one dog after the other, Rita was annoyed to find herself having to deal with Mark again.

“Good morning,” Mark said as he passed by with a bag of feed hoisted over his shoulder.

“It was,” Rita muttered and turned to her father. “What's he doing here?”

“I told you. He's my partner. One hundred and ten dogs need a lot of attention. We work at this thing on a constant basis,” August replied.

“But I thought he was a cop,” Rita said without thinking her father might wonder how she knew that detail of Mark's life.

“Oh, that,” August said with a shrug. “He just fills in on the weekends. Most of the time he's here with me.”

“Great,” Rita stated sarcastically and walked away to look at the dogs on her own.

“There's a lot of anger in that woman,” Mark stated, putting the feed on the ground beside him. He pulled out a ball cap from his back pocket and secured it on his head.

“I know,” August replied. He watched as Rita moved from dog to dog. She'd always gotten along better with animals than people, August reminded himself. It wouldn't have been all that surprising had she handled Mark with cool indifference, but her hateful attitude seemed out of place, even for Rita.

August turned to Mark. “What happened between you two? She has a real mean streak for you.”

Mark chuckled and relayed his first and second meeting with Rita. He finished up by telling August about their conversation the night of the party.

“I guess she thought she was losing control of the situation. Control has always been a big issue with Rita.” August's words caused Mark to sober considerably.

“She won't have as much control out there on the trails. The weather, the wildlife, all of it has a mind of its own,” Mark stated as if August didn't already know it.

“Rita's always cherished independence,” August replied. He was still watching Rita and knew she was trying not to notice Mark and August as they talked. “Since she was a little girl, Rita has alienated herself from just about everything for fear it might require she give up some form of control in her life. Didn't matter what or who it was. She put up a wall between herself and her mother, God, teachers, friends, and sometimes even me.”

“I wonder why she feels so insecure?” Mark questioned.

“Insecure? I've thought of Rita as a lot of things but never insecure. Why, she trekked out of here on her own as fast as her car could take her. Of course you know how she is behind the wheel,” August added with a laugh.

Mark smiled, but he challenged August's words. “Rita strikes me as the type of person who's never found her niche. She seems out of place and I think she purposefully makes it that way in order that no one and nothing get too close. I think she's insecure about forming relationships. Maybe she's afraid that the feelings she puts out won't be reciprocated.”

“I suppose that's a possibility. I just never thought about it. Now that I do, it seems to make some sense. I just always thought she was spoiled and headstrong.”

“Oh she is that, August,” Mark agreed. “But I don't think it's the reason she distances herself. No, I think Rita's been hurt by someone, and she's not about to let anyone have the chance to let her down again.”

August grimaced at Mark's words. He knew only too well of the soured relationship between Rita and Beth. Rita had turned away from her mother at a very early age, but for what reason, August was never sure. Beth had never wanted to discuss it, and Rita claimed to never understand it. August had been forced to stand by helplessly while the relationship deteriorated at a rapid pace.

“Dad!” Rita called from the dogs. “Is this dog one of Blueberry's pups?”

August smiled. Blueberry had been Rita's favorite pet before she'd left for Anchorage. “You've got a good eye, Rita. That's Dandelion, so named because he used to chew on them all the time. He's a good runner and one of the very dogs I thought you could use.”

Rita ran her hand over the husky's backside. “He feels real firm,” she replied.

“And he's a great leader,” Mark added. He and August walked to where Rita continued to check him out. “I've run him in lead just about every time I've had him out. He seems to get out of sorts if you do otherwise.”

“I know the feeling,” Rita muttered under her breath. Mark caught the words but said nothing.

“Look, Rita,” August began, “I want you and Mark to work well together. Do you suppose you could put whatever is bothering you aside and just try to make the relationship work?”

Rita's head snapped up. She bit off a rhetorical reply when she saw the pleading in her father's eyes. He was the only man for which she'd even consider backing away from a fight.

Mark noticed the change in Rita's facial expression as she caught sight of her father. She truly loved the man, which gave Mark hope. At least she was capable of love. Now, why did that matter? Mark tossed the thought from his mind and waited for Rita to make some formal statement of peace.

Rita struggled for the right words. She didn't like giving in or letting Mark win, but for some reason it was important to her father and that made it important to her. “I'm sorry, Mark,” Rita finally said, turning to face her adversary. “I guess I got carried away with my anger. Truce?”

“Truce,” Mark said and offered his hand.

Rita reached out and took Mark's hand. She was instantly aware of the way his big hand engulfed her smaller one. It was difficult to allow the contact and yet almost pleasant the way he squeezed her hand and smiled.

Rita quickly dropped his hand, confused by the feelings Mark had stirred. “So what dogs do you recommend, Mark?” she quickly asked to cover up her feelings.

By late in the afternoon, Mark, Rita, and August had picked twenty-two dogs that seemed to fit the description of what Rita needed. These dogs had endurance and youth, experience and grace. They were a sturdy breed of husky, with crystal-blue eyes and stout, firm bodies.

Rita worked with the men to relocate the dogs. They moved dog houses, straw, stake-out chains, and dogs, until Beth called them for supper.

“Have dinner with us, Mark,” August said, walking with Rita to the outdoor pump.

“Naw,” Mark said, pulling off the ball cap and stuffing it into his back pocket again. “I've got things to take care of at home. Besides, I threw a roast in the crockpot before I left this morning.”

Rita was relieved at Mark's reply but said nothing. She pushed and pulled at the pump handle until icy water flowed in a steady stream. Washing her hands and face with the strong, disinfectant soap that was left on a metal stand beside the pump, Rita felt refreshed and famished.

The days that followed found Rita in a constant state of retraining. Things she'd learned as a child had to be reviewed, while new ideas and techniques were introduced.

Rita had taken to jogging with Dandelion, whom she immediately dubbed “Dandy.” She wanted to establish a strong relationship with the dog before working with the others. If the leader and driver were to work as one, they had to know each other intimately.

Rita enjoyed the playful dog. He was easy to love and filled a void in Rita's heart. No wonder she'd always found the dogs such pleasant company. They didn't ask about your feelings but simply accepted whatever you were capable of giving.

One crisp morning as she finished her run with Dandy, Rita was surprised when Mark appeared on the gravel road astride a motorcycle.

“Morning,” he called out as he came up alongside Rita and Dandy.

“Hi,” Rita said and slowed to a rapid walk.

“Want a ride back?” Mark offered.

“No, I'm fine,” Rita replied, trying to soften the severity of her tone. “I need to walk. I still have flappy legs and no muscle tone.”

“You look pretty good to me,” Mark said with a grin.

Rita blushed and tried to ignore the fact that Mark noticed her discomfort with a broader smile.

“Dad tells me that you're going to race in the Iditarod,” Rita said, hoping to steer the conversation away from herself.

“That's right,” Mark replied, keeping even pace with Rita.

“I wouldn't miss it. Last year I came in high enough to make money on it. I intend to win it this year.”

“Oh, really?” Rita said as her eyes met Mark's.

“Do I denote a bit of challenge in that question?” Mark asked.

“You might,” Rita said, enjoying the banter.

“You realize the odds are against you. Few women even race the Iditarod, much less win it. Besides, I'm more experienced than you and you have flappy legs. Remember?” Mark's amusement was contagious.

Rita smiled in spite of her resolve to be serious. “I thought you said they looked pretty good,” Rita answered.

“They do, but not for dogsledding. I think they'd look great beneath the hem of a skirt while accompanying me to dinner.” Mark's statement was a clear invitation.

Rita shook her head. “I'm not about to fraternize with the competition,” she replied. “You might learn all my strategies, and then I'd lose the race to you.”

“You will anyway,” Mark said with a laugh. “And I already know all your strategies. I'm the teacher, remember?”

Rita tossed her head and ignored the laughing man at her side. She didn't like the way he made her feel. She was afraid of feeling too much for him and determined within herself to avoid a deeper relationship than that of student and teacher.

Later that night, Rita took a quiet moment for herself and walked down to see her dogs. They were a good bunch. Dandy was white and tawny brown with streaks of black. Muffin was black and white, while Raven was so named for her coal-black coat. Toby and Teddy were matched with white blazes against silver and black fur, and the others were a hodgepodge of black, brown, and white.

“There isn't a bad one in the lot,” August stated, breaking Rita's solitude.

“I was just thinking that myself,” Rita responded. “I want very much to know them all at once, and yet I know there's plenty of time.”

“It might be a good idea to start hitching them up to the four-wheeler. You could run them up and down the road like Mark does with the others,” August suggested.

“All right, but I doubt I'll be any good at it. It's been so long since I've even hitched a team. I've probably forgotten all about it,” Rita answered.

“Don't worry about it, Rita. You'll do just fine, and if you need anything, Mark and I will be here to help.”

Rita nodded and braved the question she'd been wanting to ask. “Why Mark? For a partner, I mean. Where's he from and why did you pick him?”

“I met him at church the summer you left home. He seemed like a good man. He had a great love of animals and from the start all he ever talked about was raising a sled team. I offered to help him. We've been working together ever since,” August replied.

“I didn't realize you'd had a partner that long.”

“I haven't. I just made him a partner last fall. He's a good, Christian man, Rita. I hope you'll give him a chance. I believe he was an answer to my prayers and your mother's,” August stated, even knowing that Rita thought very little about the power of prayer.