Across A Thousand Miles

“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!”

“SO 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.”

“WELL, 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.

“I don’t know, Sam,” she heard Mac saying as she pulled the door shut behind her. His voice sounded strangely muffled, as if it was coming from inside a deep well. “I’d like to think you’re right, but I just don’t know. What I do know is that I have to pay her back what I owe her, and the sooner the better.”

Rebecca could see Mac’s legs sticking out of the rear cockpit of the huge yellow Stearman. She could also see Sam standing near the top of the stepladder on the plane’s off side, but neither man had noticed her. “I’d like to start all over again without that big debt hanging over my head,” came Mac’s voice. “And who knows, maybe that won’t help. Maybe nothing will change her opinion of me. I seem to be in competition with a dead man and I’m losing. Do you have any idea what that does to a man’s ego?”

Rebecca felt her face flush. She reached back, opened the door again and slammed it hard behind her.

“Sam? You in here?”

“Over here, Rebecca,” came Sam’s slow, mellow voice.

“Ellin’s made a batch of her cinnamon rolls and she’s just taking them out of the oven.” Rebecca walked toward the old plane. She saw Mac’s legs writhe about wildly as he wriggled, twisted and levered his body out of the cockpit.

Rebecca waited until he’d extricated himself and was sitting on the back of the pilot’s seat. “What are you doing in here?” she asked. “I should think you’d be out running your dogs. If you plan on entering the Quest, you’ll need to put at least another thousand miles on them. Better hop to it! Oh, and by the way, that was an interesting technique you employed yesterday coming down the Mazey Creek trail.”

“You liked that, did you?” Mac said.

“That was without a doubt the most spectacular crash I’ve ever witnessed,” Rebecca said. “And the most miraculous recovery, I might add.”

“Coming from you, I take that as high praise.”

Rebecca nodded. Mac was dressed in dark-green wool army pants and a thick red-and-black-plaid flannel shirt with the sleeves rolled back. His arms and hands looked strong and powerful, and she had no doubt that they were. For him to have held on to that sled yesterday had required Herculean strength. She noticed his fancy Rolex watch was missing. “Look, Mac, don’t take this the wrong way, but you don’t have enough experience to run the Yukon Quest.”

“Maybe you think I don’t, but the dogs, you have to admit, do,” Mac said, narrowing his eyes on her.

“The judges on the race committee don’t base their decision on the dogs. They want to be sure the musher is qualified to run a long-distance race, and you have to prove yourself by finishing some shorter races, like the Fireplug and the Percy DeWolf. They won’t let you run the Quest.”

Mac’s grin was irritatingly arrogant. “They’ve waived that requirement,” he said with a casual gesture of the pliers he held in one hand. “Sam told them I’d been trapping up on the Flat with my brother’s team of dogs and they figured that was qualification enough. I’m good to go.”

“Good to go?” Rebecca stared at him incredulously. “You can’t be serious! You have absolutely no idea what you’re getting yourself into!”

“Ignorance is bliss,” he said.

“Baloney! Ignorance can kill you out there!” she snapped. “Sam, I can’t believe you fronted his entry fee knowing how inexperienced he is!”

“Well,” Sam said, dusting off his coveralls and avoiding her eyes, “I’d better get inside. Ellin’s cinnamon rolls don’t like to be kept waiting…”

“Trapping up on Flat!” Rebecca scoffed when the door had closed behind Sam.

Mac eyed her defiantly. “I lived there for four months with the dogs.”

“You trapped one fox and you let it go!”

“Would it have made me a better musher if I’d trapped two hundred wild animals and killed them all for their pelts?”

“That’s not the point! This race is about being tough, about having tough dogs, about being able to travel across a thousand miles in some of the worst weather and over some of the most gruelling terrain there is. Believe me, it isn’t like that Walt Disney movie Iron Will. You can’t live on a piece of fruitcake for two weeks, never feed your dogs, and end up winning enough money to save the family farm. You can’t fake it out there. It’s for real, and it can get really, really nasty!”

Mac’s eyes narrowed speculatively again. “You don’t think I’m tough enough, is that it? You think I’m too much of a greenhorn to go the distance?” He pushed himself off the side of the cockpit and descended the ladder propped beside the plane, stepping off the bottom rung to stand beside her. Even in his stocking feet he stood a good ten inches taller. He braced the palm of his hand against the plane’s fuselage and looked down at her with those clear, piercing eyes. The nearness of him scrambled her thoughts. She felt her heart rate accelerate and a curious warmth flush her face.

“I don’t think you can get the miles on your team,” she said. “You’ll need at least a thousand training miles. Competitive mushers put more than twice that many on their dogs before they run that race.”

“I’ll put the miles on them.” He reached for his boots beneath the tail of the plane. “I’ve got until February and it’s only November now. We’ll be ready.”

“Good to go, right?” she said caustically. “Look, Mac, if you’re running the Quest to finish in the big money, I’ll tell you right now, you don’t have a snow-ball’s chance in hell.”

He paused, boots in hand. His expression was carefully polite. “Why, thank you, Rebecca Reed, for your inspirational vote of confidence. You don’t know what it means to me to have your support.”

Rebecca pulled an envelope out of her parka pocket and held it out to him. “Here,” she said. “Take this. If you’re really serious about running the race, you’ll need every cent you can get.”

Mac recognized the envelope and a muscle in his jaw tightened. “That’s your money,” he said.

“You pawned your watch to get it, didn’t you?”

“That’s right. And I’ll pay you the rest of what I owe at the end of February. Keep it, Rebecca,” he said, and his eyes were steely. “I mean it.”

Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.

Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».

Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес.

Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.