Brides of Alaska (49 page)

When she finally arrived in Ophir, amidst near-blizzard conditions, Rita felt as though she'd been granted her wish. All five of the teams ahead of her, including Mark's, were still there.

Mark met her and noted the frenzied excitement in her eye. “The weather's too bad to push ahead,” Mark commented as Rita's team approached him. “We've decided to hold up a spell.”

“Have they put a freeze on the race?” Rita questioned, feeling her fervor fade.

“No,” Mark replied. “We just know what these storms are like. It'll blow over in a short time and we can be off then. There's no use in risking life and limb.”

“I can't believe you're all afraid to go out in this,” Rita said, waving her hand. “I've come the last twenty miles in this storm and, while cold and extremely frustrating, it's not worth stopping for.”

“You don't mean that you plan to move on out in it?” Mark's question fanned the flame of Rita's pride.

“I certainly do. As soon as I get the team cared for, we're out of here.” She hurried off before Mark could say anything to stop her. There was a chance to win the ingots. There was a chance to win the race!

I
don't want you to go, Rita,” Mark stated. He put his hand out to take hold of Dandy's harness. “I owe it to your father to keep you from risking your life out there.”

Rita's eyes blazed holes in Mark's heart. “Let go of my dogs. It's my choice to run, just as it was your choice to stay. My father isn't out here running this race, I am. Now let me go.”

Mark dropped the harness and took hold of Rita with both hands. “It's suicide to go any farther,” Mark tried to reason. “If you don't care about your family, I do. I don't want to have to explain to them how I allowed you to go out and become the first human life lost in the entire history of the Iditarod.”

“I never asked you to babysit me,” Rita said in a surprisingly calm tone.

“I just care about you, Rita. Think about it. I think I've proven it enough times. It's not just August and Beth. I care about what happens to you.”

Rita felt her resolve giving way; her eyes softened for a moment before she shrugged away from Mark's hold. “I don't want you to care,” she whispered and walked back to the sled. She gave a soft whistle barely heard through the wind, but it was enough that Dandy's sensitive ears picked it up and then they were gone.

Mark kicked at the snow and muttered all the way back to where his team was contentedly curled up beneath the snow. He began to ready his sled without real thought to what he was doing, but in his heart he knew that he'd have to follow Rita. He'd never forgive himself if something happened to her.

“Williams!” a voice sounded above the wind. “Where are you going?” It was one of the checkpoint officials.

“I'm heading out for Iditarod,” Mark replied.

“I can't let you go,” the man returned. “They've put a freeze on the race. Can't get supplies flown up to the next checkpoints because of the blizzard. Until they can, the race stops.”

“But Rita Eriksson just left a few minutes ago. She'll be out there all alone if I don't follow her,” Mark protested, even knowing how foolish his argument sounded.

“Sorry, Williams. She took off before the word came down, but if you head out, you'll be breaking the rules.” The man saw the look of concern on Mark's face. “It shouldn't be a long wait. Try not to worry.” But it was a long wait, and team after team arrived in Ophir only to be told they had to stay put until supplies could be sent on ahead. Most took the opportunity to sleep or repair their sleds, but Mark paced and fretted until he was nearly sick from the thought of Rita meeting with an accident.

“Lord,” Mark found himself praying, “I don't understand what gets into that woman, but I care for her in a way I wasn't sure I could ever care for another human being. Lord, I don't want her to die and yet …” His words trailed into silence as he remembered a sermon he'd once heard about people thwarting God's efforts to work in the lives of rebellious souls. “God, I don't want to interfere in Your plans for Rita. Go with her and help me to leave it in Your hands. Amen.”

The prayer made Mark feel marginally better, but when one day passed into two and the checkpoint official gave him the news that Rita had never made it to Iditarod, Mark could stand it no longer.

“I have to go after her!” he said as he readied his dogs.

“You'll just get yourself killed,” the official told him. “Or, you'll be disqualified from the race.”

“I don't care. I'm a certified search and rescue team member. I can't just sit here knowing that she's out there somewhere in this storm. I have to try to find her, or I'm afraid she's not going to come out of this alive. Do you really want to be the one remembered for keeping a racer from being saved?”

“I'll send out other people,” the man replied. “I assure you, Miss Eriksson will be located as soon as possible, but I can't risk the lives of ten other people because of the foolish gamble of one racer.”

“I'm not asking you to,” Mark said, taking hold of the sled bar. “I'll gladly give my own life for hers.”

The man's face changed from angry frustration to confusion. Mark took the man's silence as a form of understanding and pushed the dogs out into the storm.

Rita knew she was hopelessly lost. She hadn't been able to locate a marker or tag of any kind and the trail was long since obliterated.

The blizzard raged on around her, making it impossible to care for the dogs or even set up a proper camp. The few times she'd tried, she'd failed miserably and struggled to push on. When the wind let up a bit, she strained to hear the sounds of civilization. Nothing came back to her ears but the deathlike silence. Exhaustion hung round her like a mantle of fur.

“I've got to make camp. I've got to rest,” she said aloud. The dogs were wearing out fast, and Rita knew she was pushing them dangerously close to dehydration and death.

Feeling her way along the team, Rita checked the dogs' feet. She needed to change the booties on two of the dogs' paws. She hated this job that, even under good circumstances, was difficult to do. Each dog represented four booties and four dancing paws, and Rita would have to discard her mittens and gloves because it was impossible to put the tiny socks on and get the closures secured through padded fingers.

The exposure to windchills of minus one hundred degrees could freeze flesh in a matter of seconds, and Rita knew the only way to combat the cold would be to pull her gloves off and on for each bootie.

“This isn't fair,” she screamed to the howling wind. “I deserve to win this race. I've taken the chances. I've sacrificed my comfort. Why are You against me, God?”

A blast of wind slammed into Rita, knocking her into the team. The dogs yipped and tangled, while she fought the harnesses and lines to recover from the fall. She felt tears form and just as quickly they froze to her lashes and burned her eyes.

“What is it You want of me, Lord? I can't go back. I can't go forward. If You won't help me,” Rita moaned, “why must You hurt me?”

Rita crawled on her hands and knees to get back to the sled basket. Each inch covered was filled with pain, but Rita was determined to make it. She managed to open the covering even though she couldn't see it through the snow and her painful eyes.

Now the worst was upon her. Rita knew she would have to shed her wet clothes if she was to ever gain warmth in her sleeping bag. With nearly frozen fingers, Rita placed her mittens inside the basket and worked her way out of the layers of clothes. At the first possible moment, she scurried into the sleeping bag and snuggled down into the basket.

Mark knew his plan was foolish, yet he also knew he maintained an edge of experience that Rita didn't have. He and his team had been in situations like this before and would no doubt be in them again.

Wind and snow pelted them as Mark led the team forward at a steady walk. Moving slowly and working his way diligently, Mark managed to find the first marker without too much difficulty. He reassured the dogs with praise and pressed on. All the while he looked for anything that would indicate that Rita had passed through the same area.

Pausing in the storm, Mark lifted up a prayer. “Please, Lord, help me in this search. You know where Rita is and You can guide me to her. Please abate this storm, in the name of Jesus. Amen.”

Mark kept moving. Through the blowing snow he constantly had to break trail for the dogs. He felt the exhaustion of hours spent in snowshoes rapidly draining his strength. Just when he thought he'd have to turn back, a miracle happened—the snow stopped.

“Thanks, God,” Mark whispered under his breath.

Rita finally felt her body begin to thaw and, with the warmth, she was able to think more clearly. Her first order of business had to be caring for the dogs. She could hear the wind howling outside the sled basket, in fact, it rocked the sled as she lay inside. No doubt the dogs had curled up to sleep and were now buried beneath a layer of snow, oblivious to the perils at hand. Rita wished silently that she could be as incognizant.

Shifting her weight, Rita pushed back her fur hat and moaned. A painful knot had formed on her forehead from where she'd hit it when the wind knocked her to the ground. Rita knew she wasn't seriously wounded, but her head was pounding as her body warmed.

“I guess my charmed portion of the trip is over,” Rita mused. She tried to encourage her weary heart, but it was difficult at best. Were she in the habit of prayer, she might consider talking things over with God, but that wasn't her style. In the back of her mind, however, Rita couldn't help but think of a hundred different Bible stories where people found themselves facing problems and hardships. Memory verses from childhood reminded her of their commitment to God and how they cried out to Him when they were in trouble.

“Mother would like this,” Rita laughed. “She's always pushing God at me. Now here I am in the middle of Alaska, in a blizzard, without a clue as to where I am, and all I can focus on is how God helped people in the Bible.”

Rita felt the sled still and the wind grow calm. The storm was finally abating, and Rita knew it was time to get to work.

Pushing out of her cocoon, she crawled from the basket and surveyed the damage.

Dry, drifting snow still swirled in tiny whirlwinds around the sled, while Rita pulled on her insulated clothes and went into action to get a fire going. The exhausted dogs barely stirred, although Dandy raised his head to give Rita an appraising look before going back to sleep.

Within an hour she had food and water for both the dogs and herself. The skies overhead had cleared to a pale, powder blue. Even with the sun hanging above the southern horizon, there was little warmth. At least Rita could get her bearings now and hopefully relocate the trail. Her optimism returned and her heart grew lighter. The dogs, sensing the change in their mistress, grew excited again. They were pacing and yipping, and Rita knew they were ready to be back on the trail. But where was the trail?