Brides of Alaska

by Peterson, Tracie;

  “Shouldn’t we be pushing on for Iditarod?” she questioned as she began to repack her sled.

  “Definitely. We’ve lost a lot of time, and since the weather has cleared, the others will no doubt have already passed us,” Mark replied, acting as though it wasn’t a big deal.

  Rita’s face fell. “I wanted to be the first to Iditarod. I wanted to give Dad the ingots.”

  “They wouldn’t mean much to him,” Mark replied. “He’d rather know that you enjoyed yourself and that you managed to stay alive and well.”

  “How would you know?” Rita retorted. “I know it meant a great deal to Dad to have won those ingots.”

  “Then you really don’t know him very well at all,” Mark spoke behind steamy breath.

  “What’s that supposed to mean? He is my father,” Rita said.

  “The money, prizes, and laurels were never what drove your father to race the Iditarod,” Mark began. “As a young man he traveled these trails in order to deliver the mail. He raced because he needed to prove to himself that he could do it one last time. He needed to taste the ice with each breath, to hear the silence of the interior, and feel the dogs working beneath his hands. The ingots never meant to him what they obviously mean to you.”

  Rita felt a rage building inside her. How dare Mark tell her what her father felt or who he was. She opened her mouth to speak and then shut it again. What could she say that would make any sense? It wasn’t easy to refute the truth. Mark was right, and that’s what bothered her most. She walked away to consider his words, still feeling his eyes burning holes through her facade.

  Retracing their way back to the trail proved easier than either one had imagined. Rita was surprised to learn that she’d been only a matter of miles from Iditarod. Somehow, through the blizzard and all of the trials that had plagued her way, Rita had still managed to keep the team going in the right direction.

  “That’s some nose,” Mark teased as they made their way to the checkpoint officials. “You wandered around, blind in a snowstorm for three days, and still managed to put yourself in a decent position to regain the lost time.”

  Rita said nothing as people pressed in around her.

  “We’d just about given up hope of finding you,” one man remarked behind a fur-trimmed parka. “Are you injured?”

  “No,” Rita answered. “A little frostbite on my face, but nothing serious.”

  “I guess that’s pretty typical,” the man laughed. “I’ve heard more than one racer talk about his or her new Iditarod skin. Losing frostbitten skin off your face is pretty routine, and the skin beneath is baby soft.”

  Rita smiled and waited for the officials to check her dogs over. She’d lost track of Mark, and it wasn’t until she overheard a comment by the man who’d first spoken to her that Rita realized something was wrong.

  “I’m sorry,” she said, placing a hand on the man’s parka, “I couldn’t help overhear your comment that Mark Williams is in some kind of trouble.”

  The man turned and pushed back his parka enough to reveal a weather-lined face with a graying beard. “He disqualified himself coming out after you. He disobeyed the official’s direct order to stay in Ophir after a freeze was put on the race.”

  “But he only left to come after me. What about the Good Samaritan Rule? It wasn’t that he was trying to get ahead in the race. No doubt there are plenty of racers who’ve moved out ahead of us. Mark isn’t a threat to anyone’s victory,” Rita protested.

  “I’m just working here,” the man said and threw up his hands. “But as I understand it, the problem isn’t that he helped you so much as he disregarded a direct order. The real decision has to come from a three-member panel of the race officials. They’re appointed by the Iditarod Race Marshall and they have to reach a unanimous decision.”

  “Then I need to get word to them,” Rita said, suddenly fearing that Mark would have come all this way, only to be disqualified by an unselfish act of concern for her.

  “I’m not sure what to tell you,” the man replied. “You’d probably better talk to the man in charge. He’s over there in the blue coveralls.”

  “Thank you.” Rita saw to her dogs, then went in search of the race official.

  Although Rita had fully intended to push right out of Iditarod and head for Shageluk on the Innoko River, she found herself unable to continue until she learned of Mark’s fate.

  She’d explained everything she could to the official and pleaded Mark’s case in every way she could conceive. The man had been sympathetic and considerate of her testimony and promised that the officials would take everything into consideration. The answer would be radioed to them within a matter of minutes.

  “I’m sorry for the trouble I’ve caused you, Mark.” Rita’s sincerity was evident as she took a seat beside her father’s partner.

  “I would do it all again,” Mark said in a peaceful way that eluded Rita.

  “Aren’t you angry?”

  “No,” Mark said with a shake of his head. “Why should I be?” He looked up from where he’d been mending a harness. Mark was never one for wasting a single minute. “Anger wouldn’t change a thing and would only ruin this beautiful day.”

  “I’ve possibly cost you the race. They may not let you finish the Iditarod. Doesn’t that mean anything? After all, that’s why we’re here,” Rita argued.

  “I would debate that,” Mark said matter-of-factly. “God has many purposes for us in life. I believe it’s entirely possible that the only reason I raced this year was in order to be there for you. God knew you’d need help, both physically and spiritually. If He used me for that purpose, then I’m content.”

  “You mean to tell me,” Rita began, “that you wouldn’t be the least bit disappointed if they disqualified you here and now?”

  “Of course I’d be disappointed,” Mark replied. “I planned for this race all year, just like you did. I’m just saying that the race isn’t everything. I made the decision, knowing full well what the possible consequences could be. You nearly lost your life out there, Rita. Is life so unimportant to you that you wouldn’t risk being disqualified from the Iditarod if it meant that you could save someone from dying?”

  Rita swallowed hard. She’d always put herself first, and now she couldn’t honestly say whether she would have given up her lead, even the race, to help someone else out of their own foolishness. Suddenly, Rita felt repulsed at the image she had of herself. Would she really have let someone die?

  Mark sensed the inner struggle in Rita. His sympathy for her was evident. “You’ve had a hard time of it, Rita. Nevertheless, I don’t doubt for one minute that you would not only risk disqualification of the race, but that you’d risk your very life in order to save another. You aren’t the vicious, heartless person you believe yourself to be.”

  “I don’t know about that,” Rita admitted. “You may know my father well, but you don’t know me.”

  Mark smiled in a way that caused Rita’s heart to race. “I think I know you better than you imagine.”

  “Just because you rescued me doesn’t mean you know everything about me.” Rita’s words were strangely soft-spoken.

  “I wouldn’t pretend to know everything about you, Miss Eriksson,” Mark said with a chuckle. “I just propose to have more insight than you give me credit for.”

  “Williams!” the race official’s voice rang out. He crossed the distance with long, quick strides. “The panel has cleared you to continue. You haven’t been disqualified!”

  The small crowd that had waited to hear the announcement gave up a cheer, while Mark and Rita embraced without thinking.

  “I’m so glad!” Rita nearly squealed. Mark wrapped his arms around her, lifting her into the air and twirling her around.

  “Me, too!” he replied then placed a kiss firmly upon Rita’s lips.

  Rita found herself returning Mark’s kiss before her mind could offer up any protest. She lingered in his arms while the people around them offered cong
ratulatory praises and encouraging words. When the revelry died down, Rita’s senses seemed to return. She became very aware of Mark’s firm hold and dropped her arms.

  Raising her eyes slowly, she found Mark’s laughing eyes and smug expression. “I told you I knew you better than you think.”

  Rita felt her face turn hot in spite of the subzero temperatures. She pushed away from Mark, stammering for something to say, but words escaped her.

  “You’d best get a move on it,” someone said, and Rita nodded.

  “Yes, I’m going,” she said and backed away from Mark. He was still standing there, looking quite satisfied with himself, when Rita finished securing her team.

  Moving out of Iditarod, Rita’s mind moved in a hundred different directions. She’d become a Christian, but what did that really mean in the way that she’d now live her life? Could she somehow find a way to reach out to her mother and overcome the past?

  She smiled to herself as she imagined her father’s pleasure in her decision to accept Christ. He could rest easy now, and that gave Rita peace. Maybe it wasn’t too late to make up for the past.

  She tried to ignore the images of Mark in her mind, but when his voice called out behind her in the traditional “Trail!” requesting that she yield the right-of-way to his passing team, Rita couldn’t help but think of him.

  She glanced up behind dark glasses as Mark gave her a brief salute and was gone. Watching his team disappear in the distance, Rita found that she had no desire to pursue him. She needed distance between them. Distance to think and to understand why she’d so shamelessly reacted to Mark’s kiss.

  After eight days on the Iditarod, the Yukon River presented itself to Rita. She was tired of the ice, cold, and wind, but that was what this race was all about—that and inner strength, guts and sheer willpower.

  Now over six hundred fifty miles from the starting line of the race with a little over five hundred yet to go, sleep was quickly becoming a thing of the past.

  Rita found the breaks shorter in length and farther apart. She craved sleep like a starving man craved food. Pushing north on the frozen river, Rita found it necessary to strap herself to the sled to prevent falling off of it when she dozed. She struggled to stay awake, hearing voices that weren’t there, seeing sights that had never known creation in the real world.

  She made her checkpoints at Grayling, Eagle Island, and finally Kaltag before moving west toward the Bering Sea and Unalakleet. Following trails that were centuries old, Rita pressed her team along the Kaltag Portage for nearly one hundred miles. The routine of fighting fierce winds and death-defying cold with brief naps and feeding periods took an even greater toll. Rita was nearing exhaustion and wouldn’t feel free to sleep for any long period of time until she reached White Mountain, where she’d have to take a mandatory six-hour stopover. Until then, she’d have to catch just bits and pieces of rest on the way.

  Unalakleet, “place where the east wind blows,” was an Inupiat Eskimo village of nearly eight hundred people. Positioned on the Bering Sea, this small town represented the place where camaraderie gave way to competition. It was here that racers would dump off all but their most necessary equipment and often pick up sleek, lightweight racing sleds for the final push into Nome.

  After a welcome of sirens and bells from the town’s natives, Rita fed the dogs and left them to rest while she changed over her sled and made decisions about her supplies. Every time a new team came into sight, the revelry would sound again, reminding Rita of her competition. In all the time since she’d last seen Mark, Rita hadn’t even thought to check on his progress. Now Rita’s only competition was herself. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to win the race, it was just that everything had changed on the way to Iditarod. Now, it was enough to push herself to the limit and do her best without causing harm to the team or risking them in any way.

  Each team was appointed to a Unalakleet family and cared for during their stopover. Rita was grateful for her host family and made her way to an offered meal and bed, after finishing with her sled. It was a tradition Rita totally approved of and found herself thanking God for as she set her alarm and fell instantly into deep sleep. Hours later, Rita awoke to a rosy dawn and steaming coffee. She ate and chatted with her hosts before seeing to her duties. With the final stretches of the race ahead of her, Rita would do as most of the other team drivers did and reduce the number of dogs on her team. She had mentally calculated each choice after watching her dogs on the trail.

  She walked quickly among the dogs, surveying and deciding before finally reducing the team to ten. The other dogs were then taken to the holding pens to be flown back to Anchorage. It was hard to part with any of them, and Rita felt almost as though she were betraying them, even knowing that it was for their benefit.

  Reluctantly, Rita departed Unalakleet following two other teams as the trail rose into the coastal Blueberry Hills. Their next checkpoint would be Shaktoolik.

  Rita found herself surprisingly invigorated after her rest in Unalakleet. Maybe it was changing the sled and dropping the dogs, but whatever it was, Rita suddenly found herself revitalized and eager to race.

  She pushed out against the twenty-mile-an-hour gusts that bore down from the northwest to pass two teams. With each gained position she felt the race spirit alive and well within her heart. She wanted to do well and make her father proud!

  Shaktoolik was only forty miles from Unalakleet, and the time passed so quickly that Rita could scarcely believe her good fortune. She had gained a total of three positions and learned that another four teams ahead of her were still resting at the checkpoint. Deciding to push on, Rita’s enthusiasm was picked up by the dogs, who yipped and strained to be down the trail at a run.

  Land soon gave way to frozen Norton Bay. This was the part of the race that Rita had feared most. It unnerved her to realize, as her team moved out across the ice, that beneath her was nothing but water. Sure, there was a thick frozen surface, but an early warming or sudden storm could quickly create a life-and-death situation.

  The skies were still clear, however, and in spite of the strong winds, Rita found the trail markers easily. She settled her nerves by reminding herself that all was in God’s hands and pulled her parka hood tight against the wind.

  She stopped once on the icy surface to change booties on her dogs and offer them a quick snack of honeyballs. Her fingers numbed as she whipped off her gloves and mittens to pull off worn, tattered booties and replace them with new ones.

  Soon they were back on their way and Rita looked forward to the next checkpoint. For the first time she found herself wanting to know what Mark’s ranking was and how he was doing. With a fondness that startled her, she remembered his embrace. She wanted to let go of her fears and reach out to Mark, but should she?

  “What should I do, God?” Rita found herself praying. “For so many years I’ve put people away from me. I’ve fought to keep my distance and never let people get too close. I can’t ignore how Mark made me feel, Lord, but what do I do?”

  Conditions started to deteriorate as Rita’s team approached the checkpoint at Kouk on the opposite shore of Norton Bay. The winds had picked up to a fierce forty miles per hour with a heavy blizzard to present near-whiteout conditions. Rita pulled into the checkpoint riding on sheer nerves and adrenaline.

  “You’re doing a fine job, Ms. Eriksson,” the official told her. “How are your dogs doing?”

  “Great,” Rita gasped for air; she had run the last mile to lighten the load for her dogs.

  “You’ve moved into nineteenth place,” the man added as he walked away.

  “Wait a minute,” Rita called out. “What about Mark Williams?”

  “Let me see,” the man replied and paused to check his list. “He was here eight hours ago.”

  Rita smiled to herself. “Thanks. Has anyone crossed the finish line yet?”

  “Not yet, but it’s getting close. Several of the front runners will soon be within reach of it. My guess on
a finish time will be thirteen days and some odd hours.”

  “Fantastic!” Rita exclaimed. She couldn’t imagine the speed that the others would have to maintain to pull off a thirteen-day race completion. Her own pace had been grueling enough.

  “Let him do well, Lord,” Rita whispered as she went about heating food and water for the dogs. “I want Mark to do well,” she added, knowing that she meant it with all her heart.

  Chapter 14

  Rita crossed the finish line in Nome amidst the cheers of well-wishers and residents. Television cameras still worked to capture the race; the healthy finish of Rita in seventeenth place merited special attention. It would also earn her the sum of six thousand dollars. Rita found herself calculating expenses for the race; they might just break even.

  Rita answered questions for the press, giving them her outlook and feel for the final miles of the trail. They also quizzed her about her lost days near Iditarod, and Rita was quick to give Mark credit for her rescue.

  “I probably wouldn’t be here now if it weren’t for Mark Williams,” Rita told a newspaper reporter. “He risked not only disqualification from the race, but his life in order to go out and search for me.”

  “Mark Williams is your father’s partner in the Eriksson Dog Kennel, is he not?” the man questioned her.

  “That’s true,” Rita admitted. “He’s also a good friend of the family.”

  “Any chance that you and he are more than good friends?” the man asked with a grin.

  Rita was surprised at the question and noticed that the other reporters awaited her answer with an almost anxious look.

  “I’d say that’s between Rita and me,” Mark’s voice rang out from somewhere behind the crowd. “Now, if you don’t mind, we need to care for the dogs.” Then in a whisper for only Rita’s ears, Mark added, “Good to see you, Texas Rita.”