“He names them after Alaskan mountains. I’m taking seven dogs to Kotzebue.”
“That’s all?”
“Three more are waiting for me there—a friend’s dogs. I worked with them last summer. They pulled a cart with wheels,” he said. “The rules say no fewer than seven dogs and no more than ten.”
“So they’ve all raced before?”
“All but Wolf. And he thinks he’s boss because he’s the biggest. But I raised Wrangell and Alyeska. They’re both smarter. I usually hitch up the cat, but her harness broke.”
Tatum laughed and glanced from dog to dog. She wondered if any of their ancestors had been in the original serum run.
One of her history lessons had covered the Klondike Gold Rush, which had begun in the late 1890s. In those days, dog teams hauled ore, mail, supplies, and people. Later,airplanes took over the mail routes, and gold fever cooled down.
She petted the mishmash of huskies. They weren’t any different from the dogs she’d seen in the Iditarod. She wished her gloves had fur so she could turn them inside out. The thermometer on her parka read twenty below zero.
Ursus maritimus
could freeze out here
, she thought, feeling bad that the rogue bear had to be shot.
Cole hitched four dogs to each sled. Wrangell took the lead on his team. Brooks chewed the tugline that connected Alyeska’s harness to the gangline, and Denali chewed on Alyeska’s ear. Wolf took position as swing dog.
Bandit was leader on Tatum’s team. Wolf acted like he didn’t want her there. His head was down, his jaw jutting out, all snarls and teeth. If he hadn’t been hooked to Cole’s line, he would have taken a bite out of Bandit’s rear end.
Bandit ignored him, tossing her head around.
Let’s go!
“We’ll switch ’em up later,” Cole said.
“Sounds good.”
“Most people think speed wins races. But endurance, that’s what counts.” He tied up his brake and stepped on the runners. “Pacing isn’t everything—it’s the
only
thing.”
Tatum knew that.
She checked her watch, grateful for the lighted numbers: 6:50 a.m. This time tomorrow she’d be packing for Nome.
And suddenly, they were off.
Bandit sprang forward with such force Tatum had to grapple for the handlebars. A lucky grab; she didn’t tumble off.
The dogs trotted down the main road, yipping with excitement. Leaving the village, the road narrowed to an old game trail that roped its way around a cliff. Tatum hated breaking her promise to her mom.
We won’t be gone long
, she told herself. Cole had to be back for school.
The dogs jogged by a field of ice-covered boulders, then climbed steadily toward a saddle. Tatum found a rhythm, keeping her eyes on the dogs. “Easy now,” she said above the quiet
shush
of the runners. “Easy there.”
Cole looked back, the light from his headlamp bobbing. He shouted something, then disappeared around a curve. Tatum followed as closely as she could.
Minutes slipped into an hour. The sky grew pale, but the sun wasn’t really up. When you’re on the edge of nowhere it takes forever for the sun to fully rise. First it has to wake up all of North America.
An hour later, it had turned the top layer of snow to slush. Cole’s team looked like they were swimming down the trail. Snow sprayed up from his sled like the wake behind a speedboat. Tatum hit a series of ruts,
bam-bam-bam
. She held on tighter, keeping her legs flexible.
Soon Cole was a dot the size of a blackbird. How had she gotten so far behind? He made a half circle, dragging his boot in the snow. “You okay?” he asked when she caught up.
Bandit slowed beside his sled, sniffing Wrangell. Alyeska yipped, getting in on the act. Cole tossed turkey skins to both teams. The dogs swallowed the half-frozen snack, barely chewing. Bandit rolled around, begging for a scratch. Tatum rubbed her absently, taking in the broad expanse below. Distant brown clumps looked weird in all that white.
“Caribou,” Cole said, digging out binoculars.
“That’s all?”
“Three more are waiting for me there—a friend’s dogs. I worked with them last summer. They pulled a cart with wheels,” he said. “The rules say no fewer than seven dogs and no more than ten.”
“So they’ve all raced before?”
“All but Wolf. And he thinks he’s boss because he’s the biggest. But I raised Wrangell and Alyeska. They’re both smarter. I usually hitch up the cat, but her harness broke.”
Tatum laughed and glanced from dog to dog. She wondered if any of their ancestors had been in the original serum run.
One of her history lessons had covered the Klondike Gold Rush, which had begun in the late 1890s. In those days, dog teams hauled ore, mail, supplies, and people. Later,airplanes took over the mail routes, and gold fever cooled down.
She petted the mishmash of huskies. They weren’t any different from the dogs she’d seen in the Iditarod. She wished her gloves had fur so she could turn them inside out. The thermometer on her parka read twenty below zero.
Ursus maritimus
could freeze out here
, she thought, feeling bad that the rogue bear had to be shot.
Cole hitched four dogs to each sled. Wrangell took the lead on his team. Brooks chewed the tugline that connected Alyeska’s harness to the gangline, and Denali chewed on Alyeska’s ear. Wolf took position as swing dog.
Bandit was leader on Tatum’s team. Wolf acted like he didn’t want her there. His head was down, his jaw jutting out, all snarls and teeth. If he hadn’t been hooked to Cole’s line, he would have taken a bite out of Bandit’s rear end.
Bandit ignored him, tossing her head around.
Let’s go!
“We’ll switch ’em up later,” Cole said.
“Sounds good.”
“Most people think speed wins races. But endurance, that’s what counts.” He tied up his brake and stepped on the runners. “Pacing isn’t everything—it’s the
only
thing.”
Tatum knew that.
She checked her watch, grateful for the lighted numbers: 6:50 a.m. This time tomorrow she’d be packing for Nome.
And suddenly, they were off.
Bandit sprang forward with such force Tatum had to grapple for the handlebars. A lucky grab; she didn’t tumble off.
The dogs trotted down the main road, yipping with excitement. Leaving the village, the road narrowed to an old game trail that roped its way around a cliff. Tatum hated breaking her promise to her mom.
We won’t be gone long
, she told herself. Cole had to be back for school.
The dogs jogged by a field of ice-covered boulders, then climbed steadily toward a saddle. Tatum found a rhythm, keeping her eyes on the dogs. “Easy now,” she said above the quiet
shush
of the runners. “Easy there.”
Cole looked back, the light from his headlamp bobbing. He shouted something, then disappeared around a curve. Tatum followed as closely as she could.
Minutes slipped into an hour. The sky grew pale, but the sun wasn’t really up. When you’re on the edge of nowhere it takes forever for the sun to fully rise. First it has to wake up all of North America.
An hour later, it had turned the top layer of snow to slush. Cole’s team looked like they were swimming down the trail. Snow sprayed up from his sled like the wake behind a speedboat. Tatum hit a series of ruts,
bam-bam-bam
. She held on tighter, keeping her legs flexible.
Soon Cole was a dot the size of a blackbird. How had she gotten so far behind? He made a half circle, dragging his boot in the snow. “You okay?” he asked when she caught up.
Bandit slowed beside his sled, sniffing Wrangell. Alyeska yipped, getting in on the act. Cole tossed turkey skins to both teams. The dogs swallowed the half-frozen snack, barely chewing. Bandit rolled around, begging for a scratch. Tatum rubbed her absently, taking in the broad expanse below. Distant brown clumps looked weird in all that white.
“Caribou,” Cole said, digging out binoculars.
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