by Wesley Banks
Something didn't feel right, though. The timber was too light as Kyle pushed it in place. As soon as he lifted one end up against the fallen beam, it snapped. Then it dawned on Kyle—the heat had dried out the wood.
Kyle threw the board down and let his head fall back to the ground. As he looked up at Katie, he could see the fire behind her spreading quickly through the stalls. The hay scattered through the pens, only adding to the gray powdered smoke.
He looked back down at his legs and struggled furiously. At first he felt his legs move slightly, but then some of the boards gave way and caved in around the free space that he had just created, pinning him even more tightly.
Kyle groaned and tried again, fighting to pull his legs free until it felt like he might dislocate his knee. It was no use.
He looked over at Katie, still motionless on the sled. He thought about the first time he’d seen her—how impossible she’d been from the start. All those questions. There was something about her, though. He’d done everything he could to hide it, knowing that she was leaving—that a girl like her would never have any real interest in someone like him.
As Kyle laid there ready to give up, he saw something in his periphery. At first he’d missed it, but as his thoughts caught up he jerked his head around until he was staring at an empty harness lying on the ground. His eyes followed the harness across the floor to the three others still banded neatly together. One must have fallen free during the fire.
A breeze of cool air swept through the barn as several drops of rain started to fall around him. There was still hope.
Chapter 27
"Focus," Kyle said to King after he hooked the final latch on the harness.
It meant, Look at me. Ignore everything around you. Forget about the fire, the heat, the smoke. Forget about the night breeze only a trot away or the timbers that crashed to the floor. Focus.
Kyle gave King the hand symbol for harness, using his index finger to draw a circle in the air. It was a signal King had seen a thousand times, and he didn’t hesitate to retrieve the harness. Most sled dogs weren’t trained for simple tasks like this. They were trained to run. Trained to win. But Kyle trained them to do so much more. He trained them to survive.
King dropped the harness on the ground next to Kyle. It was a struggle to clasp the harness around King’s back without sending a searing pain down Kyle’s pinned legs. But after several seconds, Kyle heard the unforgettable click as the clasp locked into place. King had no collar on, so Kyle was only able to connect the tug line to the harness.
Then he pulled on King’s harness until he was face to face with his old friend. "I need you to do something," Kyle said, talking to King as if he understood every single word.
"I need you to do something that will be hard. But I need you to do it."
King gazed intently at Kyle, not moving, not blinking. His eyes were so still Kyle could barely see them for all the dark fur.
Kyle gave the initial command to King. A command he had given thousands of times over the years.
"Line out."
King walked to the front of the sled until the tow line was full of tension. Then he looked back at Kyle and waited.
Kyle had been so busy trying to find a way to free his legs that he hadn't noticed how quickly the fire had spread. Three sides of the barn were burning orange and red. The closest vertical pole next to him was black with char and he could hear the wood crackle and pop all around him.
As King sat there, Kyle thought about the reality of what he was asking King to do. The wooden sled—really more a wagon than a sled—was primarily built of southern pine on a hollow steel frame. It normally sat on four metal spools that Kyle had fashioned into wheels. With no load, the entire assembly probably weighed seventy-five pounds.
During the occasional trip to the store, a small team of dogs might pull the sled plus another twenty-five pounds of dog food and miscellaneous supplies for the barn. Several of the larger wheel dogs alone had pulled lighter loads during training, but it was seldom. There was no sense in training a single dog to pull that much weight when an entire team of fourteen to fifteen dogs would pull no more than four hundred pounds total—or about thirty pounds each.
King was strong, but as Kyle stared back at him he began to think of how old he looked. His pure black coat was tinged with gray and white fur around his nose, mouth, and eyes. The sheen of his coat had dulled a bit. His eyes looked tired and aged. But Kyle also saw something else. Past the rising panic, beyond the smoke and flames. He saw his friend.
King pawed at him, as if to say, Let’s do this.
A deafening crack broke through Kyle's thoughts as the corner pole supporting the other end of the loft collapsed. It fell away from Kyle, which at first he thought was a good thing—until the top end of the pole smashed right through the side of the barn.
King jumped and jerked as the pole landed, trying to throw the harness free.
A gust of cold night air mixed with near-horizontal rain came rushing in. For a moment the heat seemed to subside. Then suddenly the fire exploded across the roof, as if someone had turned a temperature knob all the way to high.
Kyle shielded his face as the flames licked at the ceiling.
Without any more hesitation, Kyle gave the simplest command he had for the dogs.
"Lead on,” he said between coughs.
King snapped to attention and turned towards the open barn door. The cable attached to the harness tightened, as did the nylon straps wrapped around King's shoulders and stomach. His paws dug into the bare floor and the sled creaked, but it didn't budge.
King looked back at Kyle a little confused, but Kyle had no answers to offer. With the cart on four wheels, this may have been possible after breaking the initial friction. But with one wheel broken and an edge in the dirt, each move King made was like starting over.
"Lead on,” Kyle said again, with more urgency.
Another booming crack echoed through the barn as the door farthest from them fell flat to the ground. The hinges were still intact, but the wood around them was burned straight through.
King backed up two steps and let some slack into the taut line. He gathered as much momentum as he could and lunged forward as Mother Nature continued to chew through the barn.
The back right of the sled, where the wheel had broken off, moved slightly, creating a small crack in the muddy ground a couple inches long.
King's front paws dug furiously, his back paws firm against the ground.
Kyle shouted, "Lead on!"
King recoiled, again letting some slack in the line, and then burst forward with a fierce growl. He barked and yipped loudly, using the full range of his vocal cords. The cart lurched forward again, but was only a foot farther than where it started. They were still twenty feet from the opening.
As King was about to let up Kyle screamed, "Lead on!"
King shook his head to the left towards Kyle, baring his teeth. He backed off the line yet again as he lowered all his weight onto his thick hind legs and jumped forward. The cable tightened and the cart barely moved, but King instantly repeated the motion again. And again. And again. He didn't stop for what seemed like hours to Kyle, as he literally dragged the cart inch by inch across the floor.
King’s coat was matted against his body in ash and rain. The ground behind him was a battlefield of blood and grime, his right front paw bleeding from a piece of splintered wood. His breath was strained, each pull of the cart knocking all the wind from him. But as Kyle watched, King did not once let up.
He lunged forward biting at the air, defying the dead weight of the dragging cart. Daring it not to obey his efforts. He was the lead dog. This was his sled. And while Kyle would have refused the use of the term, this was his master.
And suddenly, King was out the door with Katie still in the back of the sled. A couple more feet and she would be clear. The cool air was upon him, the heat dissipating, but his master called out one last time.
"
Lead on, King! Lead on!"
Kyle watched the straps tighten again around King, knowing his muscles were beat, if not broken. King was panting hard and yet somehow he summoned more strength than Kyle ever thought possible. He lunged forward and nearly broke into a run, dragging the cart almost five feet in one single motion.
Kyle gave King the command to stop as he looked out towards him.
Then, suddenly Kyle heard screaming.
Katie?
No, it was a male voice. He couldn't make out the words. His eyes burned so badly he could hardly open them. But he knew it must be Doc. As Doc reached the door, a huge section of the roof came tumbling down. The majority of the timbers missed Kyle, but pieces bounced off his stomach and arms as he shielded his eyes. The dust and smoke combined to make it nearly impossible to see.
As he turned his head back to the entrance, the last image he saw was that of King collapsing.
And there was darkness again.
Chapter 28
Katie rolled over on the couch, pulling her arm from underneath her, and tried to shake the sleep from it. She opened and closed her hand several times as she felt the needle-like sensation run down her forearm and shoulder.
When she opened her eyes, she didn't see the morning sun spilling in through the white curtains of the cottage. Instead, she saw Doc sitting across from her in a rocking chair with Belle and the pups on the floor by his side.
At just a few days old they were so tiny, curled up next to their mother for warmth. None of them had even opened their eyes yet. It wasn't until she heard Doc's voice that Katie began to remember.
"How are you feeling?" he asked.
She wanted to answer, to let him know she was fine even though her head was throbbing, her ribs ached, and her shoulder felt like it had been hit by a truck. She could only think of one thing, though.
"Where's Kyle? We have to help Kyle." Panicked, she nearly fell off the sofa as she tried to sit up.
She had startled Belle, who looked back at her with the eyes of a worried mother.
"Miss Price, please don't try to get up," Doc said as he tried to push her gently back down. "You're in no condition for that right now."
"But Kyle," she said again.
"Kyle will be fine. He's asleep in the other room."
"What about…the fire...and…the barn. And King. I couldn’t find King."
"Everybody is fine," Doc said. "The fire is taken care of, the barn is fine, and the dogs are fine. But you, Miss, need to get some rest. You bumped your noggin pretty hard."
She couldn't remember. The only thing she could remember was the fire. The heat. The loud crackling noises as it spread throughout the barn. The thick plume of smoke that kept getting darker and darker as it rose upwards in the barn. One minute she was standing on the loft, the next she was waking up on the couch. There was no in between.
Doc pulled out a small flashlight as Katie lay back down, and moved it from eye to eye.
"You have a mild concussion. But you'll be fine with a little food and some rest."
Katie knew something was wrong, but her head still throbbed and felt so heavy, even lying on the pillow. She closed her eyes with Doc still kneeling by her side. As she let exhaustion drag her back to sleep, several images returned to her memory. The only one she could focus on was Doc kneeling beside her. But it wasn't her he was looking over. It was King.
* * *
When Katie woke for the second time, Doc was gone. She was in an empty room filled with the orange hue of a setting sun.
She pulled the blanket off and sat up on the couch. Her head was no longer throbbing, but the pain that shot up her left side caused her to wince. She tried to stretch her left arm, but realized she couldn't. It was in a sling, which she didn't recall putting on. Instinctively, she reached over with her right hand and ran it over the top of her left arm. Her shoulder hurt to touch, but the rest of the arm felt fine.
As she went to stand up she almost toppled over as the blood rushed back into her legs and feet.
How long have I been asleep?
She scanned the living room for a clock, but found nothing but the numbers on the microwave, the square green analog digits too blurry to make out.
As she reached the kitchen she heard the clang of something metal. The front door slowly eased open and Doc stepped inside.
His hands were covered in dirt and there was a ring of sweat around the collar of his shirt. There was no smile on his face, and Katie knew the words he had whispered to her earlier were a lie.
"Where is Kyle?" she asked frantically.
"Kyle is fine."
"That's not what I asked."
Doc motioned towards the back of the house. "He’s still sleeping. You can go in if you'd like, but he still needs to rest. His legs are bruised badly and he took a pretty good blow to the head, as well."
Katie still wasn't satisfied with the answer. She wanted to see for herself. But as she approached the bedroom door, she suddenly stopped.
Like a detective piecing together clues to a mystery, the gears in her head began to turn.
Why are Doc's hands dirty? If everything is okay, why doesn't he look like his usual self? What am I missing?
She turned around, and looked at Doc. But it was the object behind him that caught her eye. Just past the screen door, she saw a shovel leaning against the house. She could only mouth the name as she settled on the answer. King.
A single tear streamed down her cheek.
Doc still stood at the door, vainly wiping the dirt from his hands down the front of his jeans.
When their eyes met he could do nothing but nod, and the pain in Katie's shoulder felt like nothing compared to the pain in her heart as she fell to her knees.
She closed out the world as she brought both hands over her eyes and buried her face between her knees. Katie winced as pain shot through her shoulder and she quickly dropped her arm back into the sling, the physical pain only making things worse.
When she finally looked up, Doc was sitting next to her on the floor, his knees bent in front of him and his back against the wall.
"How?" she asked.
"As much as he didn't look it, he was an old dog. It was just too much stress on his heart."
"But I don't understand. I don't remember anything but the fire."
"Miss Price, I wish I had the answers, but I just don't know. I was on my way back from the Johnston’s. Cal had cut his hand pretty deep with a circular saw. By the time I arrived, the rain had just about put out the fire, but there was still a giant stack of smoke that stretched nearly to the clouds. I got to the barn as fast as I could.
"I found you first. You were on top of the sled, lying on your back. Your left arm was bent underneath you," Doc continued as he pointed towards her sling. "You just about dislocated your shoulder.”
"What about King?"
He closed his eyes, seemingly fighting tears.
"I carried you to the house and went back for Kyle. That's when I first saw King. He was lying on his side still tethered to the sled, not moving. I felt for a pulse, but as I placed my hand on his chest I realized he wasn't breathing. I tried to revive him, but it was no use. And I still didn’t know where Kyle was…I had to leave King.
"Near the center of the barn I found Kyle. One of the main timber columns had snapped in several pieces over his legs. I had to get my truck to drag the timbers off him. Once his legs were free, it took me a while to get him inside. I had lost track of time at that point. I don't know if an hour passed or ten minutes. But after I knew you and Kyle were okay, I went back for King.
"I was just too late. Even if I had started with King, it wouldn't have mattered. I believe he passed long before I got there." Doc paused and rubbed the wrinkles on his forehead with both hands. "It didn't make sense at first. King wouldn't have left Kyle's side, unless..."
"Unless what?" Katie asked.
He paused. "Unless he was asked to."
"But why was he
tied to the sled?" Katie said, realizing the answer almost immediately.
"Because it was the only way to save you."
"It's my fault," Katie said as she stood up. The realization shook her. "It's my fault. After we let all the dogs out, I couldn’t find Kyle. I searched the main floor of the barn, but didn’t see him. That’s when I went up to the loft. I knew I had made a mistake the minute I was up there. I was scared; I wasn’t thinking.”
“I probably would have done the same thing,” Doc said, trying to console her.
Katie looked at Doc, searching for the right words. Only six kept repeating in her head.
King is dead because of me.
Chapter 29
Doc stood in front of the sink after he had showered and dressed. He had scrubbed his hands until they hurt, but he still couldn’t get all the dirt off them. The dirt that he used to bury King was stuck under his nails, and in the creases of his hands, like an unwanted memory.
He ran his hands under the warm water one last time, and splashed some over his face.
He looked back in the mirror and almost didn’t recognize the man staring back at him. He pressed his hands into the deep wrinkles of his forehead. Was this the same man that fell in love with Hannah all those years ago?
It wasn’t. He didn’t want to admit it but it was true. Without her life had weighed heavier on him, and he wished more than anything she was still here.
Hannah would know what to do better than him, he thought. She always did. As he walked down the hall he could see Katie clutching a small pillow to her chest as she watched Kyle sleep. She sat with her knees curled up to her chest, running her hand over the fringe where some of the stitching had come undone.
Doc leaned against the doorway, the aged wood creaking softly under his weight. He looked over at Katie. "He'll be fine, Miss Price."
Katie clenched her jaw, flaring the small muscles just below her ears.
"I have some dinner on the stove. Why don't you come have a bite to eat?"