“You gonna lay over here?” Mark asked sympathetically.
“Yes.” Rita straightened out and nearly fell over.
“Easy,” Mark said, reaching out to steady her.
“I’m fine, really,” Rita answered and tried to push away. “I have to log in and let them know I’m staying.” She started to walk away but turned back around. “What about you?”
“I’ll be leaving in a few hours,” Mark replied. The concern he held for Rita was evident in his expression.
“You’re that far ahead of me?”
“Is that all that concerns you?” Mark asked a bit sarcastically.
Rita rolled her neck to relieve the strain. “It isn’t everything, but it’s important.”
Mark shook his head as Rita moved off to speak to the officials. He knew it was difficult to truly enjoy the race while you were running it, but in Rita’s case it was even worse. She was all driving competition and no pleasure. The fire of that drive was clear in her eyes, in spite of her exhaustion.
Rita tried to ignore the way Mark stared after her. She met her race responsibilities, picked up supplies, and moved away from the shelter area to bed down with the dogs.
“The wind’s due to pick up tonight,” Mark said from somewhere behind her.
Rita turned wearily to find him toting a bale of straw. “What are you doing?”
“Just bringing the dogs some bedding.” His casual reply left Rita no room to protest.
“What’s the temperature?” she asked instead and reached into her pocket for a knife to cut the bailing wire.
“Thirty below and dropping. When that wind comes down the pass, it’s going to feel like a hundred below. I’d climb in that sled and in my sleeping bag if I were you,” Mark answered.
“Just put the bale here,” she motioned. “I’m going to stake out the dogs and then I’ll distribute the straw.” Mark dropped the bale and stood back wishing he could do more to ease Rita’s exhaustion. He knew she needed to do everything for herself, but he also knew her pride wouldn’t allow her to think rationally.
“May I keep you company while you get the dogs fed and watered?” he questioned.
“I guess so,” Rita said and moved painfully slowly to position her dogs.
No other conversation passed between them until after Rita had a hearty fire roaring. She thawed rich mixtures of commercial dog food, liver, chicken, and salmon to feed the dogs, then melted snow and poured water for each one until she was certain they’d had their fill. Mark made conversation that was solely responsible for keeping Rita on her feet, but she never would have admitted his help.
“You gonna eat?” Mark asked when he saw that Rita was finished with the dogs.
“No,” she sighed. A gust of wind blew through the trees just then. “It’s getting colder and I’m going to sleep. Will I see you when I wake up?”
“I doubt it. You won’t surface dreamland for ten or twelve hours if my guess is right. I’ll be gone in two.”
Rita nodded. She wanted to ask him about his time, but her mind begged for sleep. “I’ll see you when you cross the finish line in Nome, then.” Her reply amused Mark.
“Not likely, Eriksson. Not likely.”
Rita watched Mark walk away. She hadn’t realized how comforting his presence was until he stood in the lighted doorway of the Bureau of Land Management cabin and turned to offer her a wave before going inside.
Stripping off her parka and wet coveralls, Rita quickly pulled the sleeping bag around her and nuzzled down into the sled basket. She wiggled around to work the sled cover up over her before burying her head inside the sleeping bag. The warmth eased her aching muscles and sleep was immediate. For the first time in days, Rita gave in to the demands of her body. When Rita awoke nine hours later, she could hear the wind howling from outside her sled bag. She pulled her wristwatch to her face and hit the light button to reveal the date and time. Seeing that she was still early into her twenty-four hours, Rita allowed herself to linger in the warmth.
Licking her lips slowly, Rita realized for the first time how cracked and dried they were. Water sounded even better than food, and her stomach was protesting quite loudly for that substance. It was a difficult choice. Food and water or restful warmth?
Finally choosing the food, Rita pushed back the basket cover and peered out. During the night, the winds had brought snow and buried the dogs and the basket in an insulation of white. Rita pulled her frozen coveralls on and secured her parka, while Dandy lazily peeked blue eyes out from where his bushy tail covered his muzzle.
“Well, boy,” Rita called out. “What do you think? Are we going to win this race?” Dandy whimpered, then yipped. “I’ll take that as a yes,” Rita answered and went to work melting snow.
By the time Rita’s layover was completed, the wind had picked up to forty miles an hour and the temperature registered at forty-five below. Thick, heavy snow clouds hung in a gray lifeless form over the entire area. There would be little, if any, light today, Rita surmised.
She quickly harnessed the dogs and stood ready to leave when her official twenty-four hours was up. It was almost like starting the race again. The dogs were refreshed, well fed and watered, and eager for the trail. They lived to do this work and they loved it. Rita smiled as she stroked Dandy one last time, remembering a woman in Anchorage who thought it cruel that Rita raced her dogs. The woman couldn’t understand. She saw the harnesses of confinement and the weight of the load. What she didn’t see was the animation in the dogs, their yips of enthusiasm, their jumps of excitement. Nor did this woman know of the dogs left behind to howl and mourn their misfortune. It was all a matter of how one looked at the situation.
Something in Rita’s heart took notice at that thought. Her mother’s indifference came to mind. Rita frowned at the memory and quickly brushed it aside. A matter of perspective or not, Rita had a race to run and now wasn’t the time for soul-searching. Or was it?
The trail was firm beneath her feet as Rita ran behind her sled. The dogs, ever faithful to their job, kept a steady lope as they moved out of the Rohn area and past the Kuskokwim River’s south fork. Rita had been thoroughly warned about the trail to come. She would soon be passing into the Farewell Burn. This 360,000-acre area of tundra and spruce forests had been destroyed many years prior in a forest fire. It left behind an obstacle course of fallen trees and re-growth of sedge-tussock tundra. The tussock, clumps of grass that mushroomed out two feet high or more, froze solid in the winter and presented rock-solid opposition to the racers of the Iditarod. Many a driver had been injured, some even seriously, when their sleds and teams had run up against the tussock.
Rita calculated the checkpoints to come. There would be Nikolai first, then McGrath, Takotna, and finally Ophir. Ophir was where the trail would separate and take the southerly route and pass through Iditarod and it was Iditarod, that represented the halfway mark. It seemed like a whole world away. The hours rushed by and the distance passed, too. Rita had found the “Burn” painfully tedious and slow. Snow made visibility difficult, but, one by one, Rita located the trail markers and pressed on. The checkpoints passed quickly, and with them came the cultural change from areas that had been heavily influenced by the whites to lands primarily settled with native Athapaskan Indians.
She was greeted enthusiastically at Nikolai, finding herself in fifth position, but still behind Mark. The villagers had greeted each arriving team with shouts of praise and welcome. A huge bonfire had been built for the purpose of heating water for the dogs, and the school had been dismissed to allow the children to run from team to team seeking autographs.
Rita was given a hot meat sandwich that she quickly wolfed down before pushing on. Leaving a single sled team behind while the driver changed runners, Rita pushed ahead for McGrath.
By nightfall she’d made Takotna. This river town had served as a landing and supply center during the gold rush days in Alaska. Now only numbering around fifty in population, Rita was welcomed
every bit as heartily as she had been in Nikolai. She’d never seen so much food in all her life and graciously ate her fill after seeing to it that her team ate first.
The snow fell heavier still as she mushed out to reach Ophir. More than one native encouraged her to stay on in Takotna until the storm abated, but Rita was feverish with the thought of passing Mark.
It was the endless miles of darkness that gave Rita too much time to think. “If I can only make it to Iditarod first,” she whispered to the night skies, “I could win the silver ingots and give them to Dad.” There are only five teams in front of me and one of them is Mark, she thought to herself and disregarded the beliefs that being the first one to reach the halfway point jinxed you from winning the race. She knew that only once had the midway winner gone on to win the Iditarod, but she simply didn’t care. She wished there were some way to slow down the other teams.
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!
Chapter 11
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 wo
n’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.
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