Fire and Ice

by Susan Page Davis

  “What are you going to do about it?”

  “I’ve told the partners at Far North that it’s too hard for me to keep coming into town. I’m going to stop seeing patients at the clinic altogether at the end of the month.”

  “What did they say?”

  Rick toyed with his key ring. “Hap and Bob aren’t thrilled with that, and I admit I’ve enjoyed working with them. I learned a lot during the five years I was in practice with them. But it’s time.”

  “Will they bring in a new doctor to take your place?”

  “They’ll have to,” Rick said. “Bob plans to retire next year. But I’m not going back.”

  Her smile reached deep inside him, and he blurted the rest of his plan. “I’m thinking of advertising for a partner, too.”

  “Really?”

  He nodded. “There’s enough business, and if we have two doctors, one of us could always cover emergency calls. I’d need a bigger building. I’ve looked around some, but I haven’t found anything suitable that I could rent, and my current landlord doesn’t want to add on to the building I’m renting.” He hesitated then shrugged. “I’m thinking of building an animal hospital beside my house.”

  “Wow. Are you sure you’d want to be that close to it?” Robyn sat up straighter and gazed down the hill toward his log home.

  “I don’t know. It would be convenient, but I can picture it becoming burdensome, too. I’m praying about it. I’d like to have a place big enough for some kennels and an area where I could treat large animals.”

  Her face took on a glow of excitement in the twilight. “That would be terrific. But expensive.”

  “I know. I think I can swing it within a couple of years. And I know exactly what I want for the building.” He pointed down the hill to a flat area across the driveway from his house. “Right down there. That’s where I want it. The bank is looking at my loan application. This is my home now, and I want to build my business here, too.”

  “I think that’s wonderful.” Her dark eyes caught the gleam of the last rays of sun off the snow.

  Rick reached for her without another twinge of hesitation. As the long darkness settled about them, he kissed her, delighting in her response. He no longer wondered if she might be the right woman for him. Rick had found his home and the one he hoped would share it with him.

  twelve

  The Anchorage Daily News ran its article about the Fire & Ice race on the following Wednesday. Robyn had granted permission for them to lift photos from the Holland Kennel’s Web site.

  “Hey, this looks great,” her mother said as Robyn came in from giving the dogs their breakfast.

  Robyn poured herself a cup of coffee and joined her at the kitchen table. “Let me see.”

  Together they perused the article.

  “That’s one of their pictures from last year’s race.” Robyn pointed to a photo of Pat Isherwood crossing the finish line with his arms raised over his head in victory.

  “They took the one of you from our site,” Mom said. “I’ve always liked that one.”

  Robyn grimaced. “I should put some new ones up, I guess. That picture’s about three years old. Oh, look here. They pulled the one off the ‘puppy page.’” The photo near the bottom of the story showed Grandpa Steve in the dog lot, his arms brimming with husky puppies.

  “This is a fantastic article,” her mom said. “They never gave us this much publicity before.”

  “Maybe the news about the dog theft last week helped.” Robyn shuddered. “Makes me feel kind of weird.”

  Robyn’s phone rang, and she answered it.

  “Hey, Robyn,” Darby squealed in her ear. “Did you see the paper?”

  “We’re looking at it now.”

  “Isn’t that Bobble on the right in the picture with your grandfather?”

  Robyn laughed. “It sure is. Coming over after school?”

  “I’ll be there.”

  Darby clicked off and Robyn closed her phone, but her mother’s phone rang almost immediately.

  “Hello? Who?” She made a face at Robyn. “I think you want to speak to my daughter.” She held her phone out and hissed, “It’s someone from the Seattle Times.”

  “The Seattle …?” Robyn gulped. She’d half expected to hear from the weekly papers or the Mat-Su Valley Frontiersman, but not the huge daily paper in Seattle. “May I help you?”

  A woman’s voice said, “I saw the story in the Anchorage Daily, and I’d like to interview you.”

  Robyn stared at her mother and said into the phone, “You want to know about next week’s race?”

  “Well, sure, you can tell me about that, but I mostly want to know about you. The woman who runs Holland Kennel and chased down the thugs who stole her sled dogs.”

  “Uh …” She held the phone away from her face. “Mom, they want to interview me.”

  Her mother pushed her chair back. “Go for it, honey. People outside Alaska will hear about the race.”

  Any publicity would be good for the business, Robyn told herself, though she disliked having the spotlight shine on her. She gulped and smiled. “I guess that’s all right,” she told the reporter. Of course, it was silly to wear this plastic smile when the woman was fifteen hundred miles away. She felt like an idiot. She lost the smile in a hurry, before Mom turned around and saw it.

  Rick closed the door of his small veterinary office at five o’clock on Saturday. He checked his hair in the rearview mirror before heading for the Hollands’ house. Maybe he should stop at home first and clean up a little. But Robyn had said to come as early as he could. Her brother, Aven, and his wife had arrived, and Rick was invited to share supper with the family.

  Robyn met him at the door and drew him into the house. A tall, dark-haired man in uniform rose and waited for her to introduce them.

  “Rick, this is my brother, Aven,” Robyn said with a smile and a fond glance toward the young man.

  Rick extended his hand and shook Aven’s, feeling as he did so that Robyn’s brother was assessing him.

  “Glad to meet you,” Aven said. “Mom and Robyn have told us a lot about you.”

  “Nothing bad,” Robyn said quickly.

  Rick smiled. “I’ve heard a few tales myself. I think the family’s glad to have you home.”

  “They’re staying all week, until after the race.” Robyn couldn’t seem to stop grinning. Rick loved seeing her so happy. She looked toward the hallway as a pretty young blond woman wearing black pants and a red sweater entered the room. “Oh, and this is Caddie, my sister-in-law. Caddie, this is Rick Baker.”

  “Pleased to meet you, Dr. Baker.” Caddie took his hand.

  “Oh please, let’s not go all formal or I’ll have to learn your ranks,” Rick said.

  Aven and Caddie laughed.

  “Agreed,” said Caddie. “Let’s not go there. I just changed out of my uniform, and I’m ready to relax for a few days and be just plain Caddie.”

  Rick doubted she had ever been considered plain, and the pride in her husband’s eyes confirmed that.

  “What are your jobs for the race?” Rick asked as they settled down to talk.

  “I’m the jack-of-all-trades,” Aven said. “I’ve worked on every one of these races since Dad and Grandpa started it twelve years ago—except for last year and the year before. Couldn’t get leave. But I’ve missed it, and I worked it out months in advance so that Caddie and I could be here for this one.”

  “I agree with Aven,” Caddie said. “I’ll do whatever is needed. Someone may have to explain things to me, since I’ve never gotten involved in dog sled racing, but I’ll take lots of pictures, and I’ll help wherever I can.”

  “Don’t worry,” Robyn said. “We’ll put you to work.”

  On race day Robyn could hardly contain her joy. The start area near Iditarod Headquarters came to life at five a.m., when volunteers opened the check-in and service booths and the contestants began readying their teams. As race director, Robyn dashed from one tas
k to another. The six o’clock starting time approached at lightning speed. All the checkpoints were manned by several volunteers, and all the drop bags of extra supplies, equipment, and food for the dogs and mushers had been delivered to the stops along the route.

  As usual, the Fire & Ice trail would begin and end in an open area near the Iditarod Headquarters building. Trucks, booths, contestants, volunteers, and spectators turned the grounds into a temporary, dog-centered city, not unlike some of the tent cities that had sprung up during Gold Rush days.

  “Slow down, girl,” Grandpa called as Robyn passed where he sat in a wheelchair, near the starting line.

  She laughed and paused to kiss his forehead. “I’m so glad you’re here, Grandpa.”

  “I wouldn’t miss this for anything.” He pulled her closer and added, “And I’m not going back to that place.”

  “I hope you never need to.” She tugged his hood up over his knit hat. “I’ll help you with your therapy every day.”

  “Robyn, a photographer’s here from the Frontiersman,” Aven called. “Do you have time to speak to him?”

  “Uh, not really.” Robyn lifted her hands helplessly. “Point him toward Billy Olan. He’s one of the favorites today, since Pat Isherwood isn’t well enough to race yet. Oh, and Rachel Fisher’s team looks good. She and her dogs are very photogenic.”

  Aven led the photographer away, and Robyn blew out an exaggerated breath.

  “Aw, you’re photogenic, too, Robbie.” Grandpa grinned up at her.

  “Thanks. I love getting publicity for the race, but I hate having the attention focused on me.”

  “Hey, you’re still going to let me hand the trophy to the winner, right?” he asked.

  “Yes, of course.” She squeezed his thin shoulders. “Are you cold, Grandpa? I can help you go inside for a while if you need to warm up.”

  “Not yet. I’m warm as toast.” He held up one hand, clad in a hand-knit woolen mitten. “Your mother made sure of that this morning.”

  Robyn laughed and hurried to the registration area.

  The volunteers greeted her.

  “All of the mushers have checked in,” Anna said, handing her a clipboard.

  “Great.” Robyn scanned the list. The forty-eight dog teams comprised a record number of contestants. Rick and his old partner, Dr. Hap Shelley, had examined all the entered dogs the day before. Now the mushers harnessed their teams and gathered near the starting line.

  “We’ve got three entries who’ve previously run the Iditarod,” Anna said with a dreamy smile, “and so far I’ve seen two Iditarod winners in the crowd.”

  “I hope there’ll be more before the race starts,” Robyn said. “I’m counting on at least four.” More good publicity when the big-name mushers turned out to support the race.

  Aven dashed to the booth. “Robyn, Mom wants to know if we have any extra booties handy.”

  “Booties?”

  “For Erica Willis. She had a slight mishap on the way here and some of her equipment got wet. Her dogs need eight dry booties.”

  “Sure.” Robyn told him where to find the needed accessories for the dogs. “Oh, and did all the drop bags get delivered to the halfway point? I never got confirmation on that.”

  “We’re all set,” Aven said over his shoulder as he hurried away.

  “How you doing?”

  She whirled and found Rick standing behind her. “Terrific. How about you?”

  “Ditto. This is great fun.”

  “It’s a madhouse,” Robyn conceded, “but I love it.”

  He handed her a loose-leaf binder. “All pre-race vet checks are complete. Hey, isn’t that—”

  Robyn turned to look at the man who’d snagged his attention. She caught her breath. “Philip Sterns.”

  “Thought so.”

  She and Rick waited as Sterns wove through the crowd toward the booth. It took him only a couple of minutes to locate them. “Miss Holland. Good to see you again.”

  “I’m surprised to see you here, Mr. Sterns,” she said.

  He smiled and nodded at Rick. “I returned from California yesterday and thought I’d come up here to watch the race. Maybe get some inspiration for training my new team.” His brow furrowed. “Say, have you heard anything about those dogs you lost?”

  Robyn studied his face for a moment. “Yes. We got most of them back.”

  “Oh? That’s good news.” He looked around as though expecting to see the dogs popping up out of thin air. “Did you get that magnificent Tumble back?”

  Robyn glanced at Rick. His sympathetic gaze told her the interview was painful for him, too. “No, actually we recovered all of them except Tumble. The police are still hoping to find him.”

  Sterns nodded, his eyes wide. “I wish you the best.”

  “Thank you. Now, if you’ll excuse me, the race is about to start.”

  The teams entering the 100-mile race gathered near the start area. Ormand Lesley, the race marshal, called the time for the first racer, and the team took off to the sound of much cheering. At two-minute intervals, the other teams set out over the trail in the pre-dawn darkness.

  Robyn wished she was driving a sled today, following the trail away from the crowd, out into the quiet tundra.

  The spectators cheered each team on its way then settled down to watch the shorter races.

  As soon as all of the teams in the 100-mile race had left, Rick approached Robyn again. “Guess I’d better jump in my truck and get to the halfway checkpoint.”

  “Have fun.” She wished she could go with him and watch the teams come into the rest stop one by one, but she was needed here. “We’ll see you later.”

  He smiled at her. “Save me some coffee.”

  She waved and grinned as he drove out. The sled teams would all take a two-hour rest at the fifty-mile point, and during that time, Rick and another vet would examine each dog. If all were in good condition, after their mandatory halt they could head on back to Wasilla and the finish line.

  By ten o’clock, the sun had risen and the temperature climbed to a comfortable twenty-five degrees. People took their folding chairs and waterproof cushions to the edge of the trail where the other races would be run during the time that the long-distance teams were gone.

  Robyn didn’t expect the winning team to cross the line before mid-afternoon. The record time for the Fire & Ice, not including the required two-hour stop, was seven hours and twenty minutes. But that was not a terribly fast time, and it was always possible someone would knock the record to smithereens. They probably wouldn’t see any sleds come in until well after three, but everyone would start to get keyed up and watch the trail eagerly from two o’clock on.

  During the morning, short runs for teams of four, six, and up to ten dogs were held on shorter trails nearby. Each team completed two heats, and their times were added together. In each class, the dogs’ route was as many miles long as the number of dogs allowed per team. A two-dog class for children ages twelve and younger was a favorite feature of the day’s program. That class ran only a mile for each of its two heats.

  People ate lunches they’d brought or bought snacks from the vendors. One of the past Iditarod winners gave a talk about the historic race inside the headquarters building, and spectators viewed the exhibits there and visited the gift shop.

  All too soon the sun began to lower in the west. Robyn hoped the first teams of the 100-mile race would come in before it set. Pictures of the finish would be better, and the spectators would get a bigger thrill from the event if they could see well.

  At two forty five, Ormand Lesley called her via radio. Cell phones just didn’t make the grade where the race went.

  “The leaders just passed the last checkpoint,” Ormand said. “It’s Olan and Fisher in a tight race.”

  Robyn’s pulse quickened. If Rachel Fisher won, it would be a coup for Holland Kennel. She wouldn’t be the first woman to capture the trophy, but half her team was sired by Holland dogs, with four of
Tumble’s offspring among them.

  “They’re ten miles out,” she announced to those nearest her. “Olan and Fisher leading.”

  Darby jumped up and down and clapped her gloved hands. “Oh, I hope Rachel wins it. We haven’t had a member of the local sled club win for three years.”

  Robyn smiled. “Yeah. It sounds like she has a good chance.”

  The buzz mounted as word got around. Robyn went to the speaker and made the official update. “Folks, we’ll be seeing the first finishers in just a few minutes.”

  Spectators hurried to get refreshments before the real excitement began. The participants in the shorter races tended their dogs and put away their equipment.

  Aven and Caddie found Robyn. “Hey,” her brother shouted. “Want to come in the truck to where we can see the lake?”

  “I sure do.” They would be able to see the teams coming across the frozen lake from a hill a short distance away. Robyn looked around. “Where’s Grandpa?”

  Caddie said, “Your mom took him inside to warm up and have something to eat, but they’ll be out here when the leaders come in. Aven promised to radio in when we see them.”

  “Oh, let me come, too.” Darby seized Robyn’s arm and bounced on her toes.

  Robyn laughed. “All right, but you’ll have to sit on my lap.”

  The four of them piled into Aven’s pickup. In just a couple of minutes they gained the vantage point and looked down on the windswept lake.

  Caddie shivered. “It’s getting cold, now that the sun is going down.”

  “I see them!” Darby pointed, and they all followed her gesture, squinting against the glare of sun on snow.

  At the far side of the lake, a team of sixteen dogs ran down the bank and onto the glare ice. The sled’s runners had barely hit the surface when a second team appeared and plunged down the bank after them.

  Robyn held her breath.

  “Who’s leading?” Aven asked.

  “I can’t tell. Should have brought binoculars.” Robyn frowned in concentration.

  “I’ve got a zoom lens.” Caddie held up her camera and peered through the viewfinder. “Can’t read the bib number.”