is too much for you. You can’t go it alone.”
Rebecca bent to pick up the empty feed pans. “I have another team to run, Ellin.”
“Yes, I know,” Ellin said curtly. “And another team after that, and then there are the chores to do. The wood to split, the water to lug, the dogs to feed.” She sighed. “Well, my dear, I’ve had my say and as always, it’s fallen on deaf ears. I really think all mushers have dog biscuits for brains!”
“I love you, Ellin Dodge, and I always will,” Rebecca said, arms full of feed pans. “But I have to do things my way.”
Thirty minutes later she was out on the trail again with another eight-dog team and Ellin’s words echoing in her ears. Her neighbor was right. It was too much. There were days when Rebecca felt like giving up, days when everything piled up in front of her like an unscalable mountain, days when she was so lonely and exhausted that she would drop her head into her hands and weep like a baby. Those were the bad days, and while not all of her days were bad, they were all long and lonely and hard, and they were making her hard in ways she didn’t like.
Bringing coffee and breakfast to Mac this morning was the first time she’d felt like a woman since Bruce’s death. There was no denying that the simple act of handing Mac a cup of coffee had made her feel good inside. And the way he’d looked at her had made her feel… He had made her feel… Oh, for Pete’s sake!
“Twister! Get up, you lazy beast!” she chastised a young wheel dog, whose job was to run directly in front of the sled. “I’ll feed you to the wolves if you don’t pull your weight!”
Ellin was right about Sam. He did need help. Sam and Ellin’s boys had all become very successful, but none of them had wanted to remain in the Yukon. Sam had given up the mail route he used to fly two years ago. He probably shouldn’t be flying at all, but she’d like to see anyone try to keep that old man out of the sky. And then he’d gone and bought that old wreck of a Stearman with the dream of restoring it to its former glory. Rebecca shook her head. It was true about men. They never grew up. They were just boys grown tall.
“Come on, Minnow, you can do it. Good girl!”
Well, anyhow, she was rid of Bill MacKenzie. He’d be gone when she got back and she could spruce up the guest cabin and get it ready for her first clients, who would be arriving in a few weeks—and none too soon. She desperately needed the money the dogsled tour would generate.
Three hundred yards from the cabin she stopped the team, snubbed the sled to a nearby spruce and loaded the toboggan bed with six armloads of the firewood that had been cut to length and stacked beside the trail. She used dog power to pull the load to the cabin and had barely finished watering, snacking and unharnessing the dogs when a familiar truck bounced into the yard. The cab door opened and Sadie Hedda jumped down, waved, then grabbed her parka and shrugged into it as she crossed toward the guest cabin, one hand clutching her medical bag.
“He’s gone, Sadie,” Rebecca called, tossing the wood from the sled onto the cabin porch.
Sadie turned to stare at Rebecca. “Gone? Gone where? My Lord, Becky, the man was seriously injured, and he was in no shape to be going anywhere! I know you didn’t want him here, but surely you didn’t drive him off!” She was walking rapidly toward Rebecca as she spoke.
“No, Sadie, I didn’t. Ellin and Sam have adopted him. If you want to do a follow-up exam, you’ll find him there.”
Sadie was visibly relieved. “Rebecca,” she said. “I know it’s none of my business, but where did you find that guy?”
“I didn’t find him! He came here to buy dog food.” Rebecca continued to unload the firewood. “He’s Brian MacKenzie’s older brother and he’s taking care of Brian’s dogs for the winter while Brian finishes his degree at the university. He says he’s going to race the team and expects to do very well. He thinks there’s nothing to mushing, that it’s easy as beans and anyone can do it. And, oh, by the way, he’s also planning to win the Percy DeWolf.”
Sadie grinned. “Where’s he from?”
“Dunno. But he was in the military. Some kind of mechanic, I think.”
“Mechanic,” Sadie said, eyes narrowing appreciatively. “Mechanics can come in awfully handy around here.”
“Yes. I’ll be glad when he fixes his truck and gets it out of my driveway.”
Sadie shoved her hands in her parka pockets and frowned at Rebecca. “I know he owes you money, but is that the only reason you dislike him so? I mean, you have to admit that he’s the best-looking thing to step into the Territory in a dog’s age. Does he smoke?”
“Nope. At least, I don’t think he does.”
“Good! I like the idea of a Marlboro man without the cigarettes. By the way, if you’re throwing him back, throw him in my direction, would you?”
“He’s a free man,” Rebecca said as she threw the last log onto the porch. “But, Sadie, it wouldn’t be a bad idea for you to stop by Sam and Ellin’s. Your patient looked kind of off-color to me this morning. I think he might be running a fever.”
“A fever! That’s not good at all,” Sadie said ominously. “I’d better get over there straight away.” Without another word she marched back to her truck, jumped in and roared off. Rebecca eased a cramp in the small of her back as she watched Sadie disappear. She longed to sit down in the rocker beside the woodstove with a cup of hot tea, but there was no time. She had to mix the dog food, fill the wood box, haul endless buckets of water up from the springhouse, and then feed the dogs before full dark. It was going to be cold tonight. She needed to be sure that each dog had enough straw in its house to make a warm bed.
No time for tea. No time for herself. And certainly no time for anyone else, especially a helpless cheechako like William MacKenzie.
IT TOOK FAR LESS TIME than Sadie had predicted for Mac to recover from his injuries. Within a week he was up and about, doing light chores over Ellin’s protests, but by the end of the second week he counted himself cured and was taking care of his dogs when he wasn’t helping Sam work on the Stearman.
In his third week at Sam and Ellin’s, he used Sam’s old Jimmy to haul his dog truck from Rebecca’s driveway to Sam’s hangar where, with Sam’s help, he replaced the U-joint. The next day he drove his truck to his brother’s place on Flat Creek, picked up his few belongings, the two dogsleds, feed dishes, the harnesses, gang lines and other assorted mushing paraphernalia, and returned to the little cabin on Sam and Ellin’s property. The day after that, he began training his dog team.
The trails around the Dodges’ place were the same trails that Rebecca trained on, so Mac had anticipated that they’d run into each other frequently and had been looking forward to it more than he cared to admit. But during his first week, he saw no sign of Rebecca. He finally mentioned her absence to Ellin.
“She’s probably out on a trip with some clients,” Ellin explained. “She usually heads down toward Guggieville or up toward Inuvik. You might swing by her cabin and see if Donny’s old blue Chevy is there.”
“Who’s Donny?” Mac asked.
“Donny’s a good kid. He takes care of Rebecca’s kennel when she goes on her trips. He’s Athapaskan.”
Mac spent the rest of the afternoon splitting firewood for Sam and Ellin, but the next morning, bright and early, he was on his way to Dawson City, where he sold his Rolex for far less than it was worth. He drove directly back to Rebecca’s with the money. She wasn’t there, but Donny was.
“She could be gone two, three more days,” the young man said in answer to Mac’s question. “Maybe more, maybe less. Hard to tell sometimes. Three Japanese clients. Big money.” He smiled broadly.
Mac left an envelope for Rebecca. He’d sealed a brief note inside, along with the money from the sale of his watch, promising to pay the balance by the end of