Total pages in book: 127
Estimated words: 121020 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 605(@200wpm)___ 484(@250wpm)___ 403(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 121020 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 605(@200wpm)___ 484(@250wpm)___ 403(@300wpm)
Despite everything, I smile.
“What happened?” Mabel whispers, but I only shake my head, still listening.
Waiting.
“Why is that dog here? And why does it have a bow?”
* * *
I check Tyler’s expression to see if he’s joking. “You want to race her.”
“Yeah.”
“In the Iditarod.”
“Yes.” He crouches in front of Nymeria, his hand weaving through her thick coat as he strokes her neck. She sits on her haunches, accepting the affection with an occasional contented whine. “Reed’s been working with her all summer, but she already knew all the commands. And she kept up with the dryland training. She loved it.”
I can’t help but look at this dog and still see the frail and wounded one dangling from Harry’s arms. “You think she can handle a hundred miles a day?”
“Not yet, but none of them can, yet. Not even Tank. They’re all out of shape. But she’s keeping up. And she and Tank seem to be a good match—”
“Match. Wait, you want to run her as a lead dog?” A position that is typically earned after years of running.
Tyler chuckles at the gobsmacked look on my face. “I know. But I’m telling you she’s done this before. Zed said she’d been a team dog for a few years before he started breeding her. She knows what she’s doing. And I have a good feeling about her, Marie.”
“What about Nala?”
“Nala doesn’t want to run. We pull out the harness, and the enthusiasm isn’t there. She’d rather stay close to her puppies.” He shrugs. “I can’t force her.”
“So then you need Nymeria for the Iditarod.” Unless he leases a dog from someone like Harry.
He leans back against the barn wall, resting his arms on his bent knees. “I can run with one lead dog if I have to. Tank is strong-willed enough for two. But if she wants to do this, then why wouldn’t we give her a chance? After what she’s been through, she deserves another shot at being happy.” He reaches for her, and she tilts against his leg, lifting her chin to give him her jowls for attention.
“There’re other ways for her to be happy. Smaller races. It doesn’t have to be the Iditarod.”
“But what if she wants it?”
“Maybe it’s not worth the struggle.”
“Maybe it is.” Tyler frowns, but whatever is on his mind, he keeps to himself. “I am going to start her off in smaller races. There’s one out of Cantwell next month, and one in Paxson in January.”
“It sounds like you’ve already decided, so what do you want from me?”
“You know her full history. Things I can’t tell Don or anyone else. Come out with me and watch. Tell me if you think I’m crazy. That’s all I ask.”
I peer through the far door to where Mabel observes Reed harnessing the team.
With a heavy sigh, I climb to my feet.
* * *
“Gee.” Tyler’s voice is barely above conversational level and yet the dogs veer right on the groomed path ahead, working in tandem. There’s nothing to hear but the soft crunch beneath the sled’s runners and forty paws as the ten dogs run the trail through trees and brush, and we glide across the snow.
I look up from my seat in the sled’s basket to find Tyler standing over me, grinning smugly.
Despite the turmoil churning inside me, this moment is oddly peaceful.
“Whoa,” he calls out, dropping the snow hook to stop the dogs and anchor us. The team is happy for the pause so they can test their lines and pee on the nearby brush.
I climb out to stretch my legs. My cheeks and nose are numb from the cold air, and I wish I’d worn a different scarf. We haven’t gone far—maybe a mile or two—but we’re deep within the trees of Tyler’s property. Ahead is the river, and beyond that the mountain range. Somewhere to the right of us are Harry’s seventy-five dogs.
But out here, it feels like we’re alone.
“So? What do you think?” Tyler asks, watching me as I edge along the path toward the front.
Dropping to my knees beside Nymeria, I tuck my gloves inside my coat to keep from Tank’s nipping teeth. I check her joints and muscles with my fingers, searching for any tenderness or other warning signs. I can’t find anything.
“Hey, girl. You want to do this?” I murmur.
She answers with a hot lick across my cheek.
I settle on my haunches. “Officially, I think you’re nuts, Tyler. You do realize how risky this is, right? You want to race a stolen dog in the Iditarod. As the returning champion. There will be pictures of her all over the paper and the news.” Which Zed will surely see, as will his nephew Jody and countless others.
He cocks his head. “Come on, Marie. She’s a beautiful dog, but she’s not that distinctive.”
I mock gasp and playfully cover her ears. “Don’t listen to him!” But he’s right. Heterochromia is common in huskies. And Zed is likely arrogant enough to believe that if she wouldn’t run for him, she’d never run for anyone else.