As he came out of the pass, Luke heard dogs behind him—their panting, the jangle of harnesses, and the swooshing of runners. He barely had time to glance behind him before Ray slid past.
“Watch out for deep snows. They're wet and will slow you down,” he called, then saluted…again.
Believing he'd had a good lead, Luke had been lulled into complacency. He gritted his teeth as he considered the older man's joy at overtaking him. I'll show him, he thought, rolling out his whip and calling to the dogs. They moved faster and faster until they were moving too fast. Luke saw Ray disappear around a tight bend and put out a foot to slow down. He wouldn't make it!
“Whoa,” he called. The curve hurtled toward him! Butch led the string of dogs around…the sled followed and tipped. Luke leaned against it. The sled righted and they slid through.
Letting out his breath, he relaxed his shoulders slightly and allowed the dogs to choose their own pace. The wind had picked up, and he could see clouds scudding across the moon. A storm was moving in, which wasn't good for mushers.
Chapter 34
THE SETTLEMENT OF WILLOW WASN'T MUCH MORE THAN A WIDE PLACE IN the road, but to Luke it looked like heaven. The wind had whipped up, and snow was falling at a slant. Ice encrusted his upper lip and chin, and his eyes burned. He was worn out, and his legs and back ached. His hands felt as if they were permanently fixed to the sled. All he could think of was getting inside and getting warm.
Ray waved as Luke and his team approached. “We've got a place to stay for a few hours. Food and a bed are waiting for the both of us.”
“Where?”
Ray pointed at a small cabin tucked into a pine grove. “See you after you get your dogs bedded down.” He turned and strode toward the small house.
Luke and Ray sat at a table laden with bacon and eggs, biscuits and gravy, and plenty of coffee. Luke's stomach felt hollow. “I figure I'm hungry as a wolf,” he said, shoveling in a giant bite of eggs.
A middle-aged woman Luke knew only as Josephine said, “Well, you eat right up. I've got plenty.”
He nodded and cut into the biscuits. When he finished off his first cup of coffee he still felt chilled and asked for another. Looking too small and skinny even to manage the large coffeepot, Josephine clapped a hot pad over the top and refilled his cup.
“This is mighty good,” Ray said. “Thanks much, ma'am.” “You're very welcome. I'm always glad to help out.” Wind rattled the windows and rafters. Josephine peered outside. “That storm's really pickin' up. It just came out of nowhere.” She eyed her two guests. “Hope it lets up soon. Otherwise, you'll likely end up stuck here.”
“We'll be moving on.” Ray leaned on the table and looked intently at Luke. “The snow's pretty soft between here and Little Susitna Station. Even with the storm, it's not as cold as it ought to be. You watch yourself out there. Sometimes it's hard to spot soft ice, especially along the Little Susitna. It flows pretty fast in some spots, and this heavy snow is liable to cover up dangerous ice, or no ice.”
“I've been around long enough to know what I'm doing,” Luke said defensively.
Ray shrugged. “I won't worry then.” He pushed away from the table. “That was real good, ma'am. Thanks for your hospitality.” He stood. “You said we could catch a few winks?”
“Go right up those stairs and turn right.” Josephine offered a friendly smile. “You'll find two beds in there.”
“Could you wake me in two hours?”
“I sure will.”
Luke followed, leaving the same instructions. His body craved sleep, but he wasn't about to let Ray lead out.
Feeling surprisingly refreshed, Luke fitted the last dog in the harness and threaded the reins to the back of the sled. The storm had quieted. He and the dogs were ready to move out.
Ray got away first, but Luke managed to keep him in sight. Another team was still in the lead, so Luke pushed his dogs hard. They were approaching the halfway point. Soon he wouldn't have enough time or space to close the distance. What really matters is that I beat Ray, he told himself, flailing the whip.
The country he moved through was different from what he'd seen so far. Spindly spruce and birch stood in open fields. Deep, mounded snow concealed thickets of underbrush, small ponds, and lakes. Luke felt vulnerable. This wasn't the kind of countryside he was used to. He'd seen patches of soft ice, so he was especially vigilant. He wondered if he could find a way around the myriad of lakes and ponds. Maybe he should skirt the area?
A fox darting back and forth in an open field caught his attention. It was trying to catch a sprinting rabbit. He zigzagged, then pounced, but came up empty. His pointed ears forward and tail twitching, he dashed, then pounced again. The rabbit evaded him. Luke chuckled.
When he looked forward again, Ray was gone. Where was he? “Mush!” Luke called, searching the landscape. He spotted a place where sled tracks cut off and headed down an embankment, then disappeared into the forest. It had to be Ray.
Luke called out, “Gee,” and the dogs turned. Dodging trees and bouncing over mounds, he looked for his stepfather. Ray had spent many hours in this area and knew it well. Luke was sure that following him would cut his time. Still, he had to catch him before he could overtake the lead musher.
Ray must have opened up his lead, because no matter how hard Luke pushed, he couldn't close the gap between them. The going was rough, and Luke was breathless. His legs ached and felt like lead. Maybe he'd made a mistake. It was too late to go back to the main trail. He'd lose too much time.
Finally he saw Ray several hundred yards ahead sprinting through a forest of scrub pine and birch and across open patches of frozen water. He's good. Luke couldn't help but be impressed. Ray had taken this route because he was skilled in this type of terrain. “He's got more stamina than I gave him credit for. He's really something.”
Gritting his teeth against his own pain and exhaustion, Luke pushed on. Why did he feel he had to beat Ray? What was he trying to prove? Why did any of this matter?
His thoughts wound back over the years. Even before his father's death, he'd hated Ray. But it wasn't until he'd shown up at their farm to tell them Will Hasper was dead that the emotions had deepened into an odious loathing. Luke could feel the ugly force of the moment, and a shudder went through him. But why did my father give his life?
The dogs, sled, forest, and ice-covered lakes seemed to fade away. All he knew was the voice of God. “Will Hasper knew where his destiny lay—he had eternity with me waiting for him. Ray had no hope.”
Luke nearly stopped. He'd never considered what it would have meant to Ray if he'd died that day. His father's sacrifice had offered Ray Townsend a future. Was his father's choice also God's choice? And if God had decided that it was Ray who should live and not his father, then whom should he hate? God?
Luke was confused. He thought back to the Ray Townsend he'd first known. He'd been a man warped by bitterness and consumed by anger. Luke's mind reeled forward to the confrontation he and Ray had in the barn. Luke had threatened him with a pitchfork. He'd even drawn blood. Yet Ray had refused to fight him. He'd no longer seemed to be angry and bitter. Luke's mind moved to the present. Ray, the man who now loved and cared for his mother and his brother and sister, was nothing like the man Luke had known in the beginning.
Was it possible that his father had known about the Ray Townsend who existed inside and understood that the shell of the man was a distortion? A sick feeling moved through Luke. If so, Luke had sided against God. He was the one who'd been wrong. All these years, it had been him.
Ray disappeared over a ridge. Luke stopped at the crest and watched as the man moved across a frozen riverbed. A loud creak and pop echoed. Ray's team stopped. His lead dog crouched, then suddenly dropped and disappeared along with two others. Ray hauled on the sled and pulled it backwards. The ice cracked, and another dog disappeared. Whining and yelping, the canines paddled and struggled to escape the icy river. Tangled in the harness, they fought to extricate themselves. The more they thrashed the more tangled they became.
“Dear God,” Luke said. Ray needed his help. He hollered, “Mush!” Leaning forward, he swirled his whip over the team's back and headed down the embankment.
Ray had given up on trying to pull the sled and the dogs free. Now he walked gingerly toward the place where the team had fallen in. When he got close, he dropped to his stomach and dragged himself across the ice. He hauled on the harness, managing to free one dog and cutting another loose with his knife. After a good shake, the animals loped back to shore and rolled in the snow.
