Splitting wood was always a chore, and there was always wood to split, even in the summer, since the old cookstove in the cabin burned wood. But, it was an enjoyable chore, on a day like today, with it reasonably warm, and the sun shining, so he didn't mind too much. He'd spent a lot of time over the summer and fall cutting older, dying trees well away from the old deer camp, cutting them up with a chainsaw, and hauling them to the cabin with the old tractor he'd acquired
soon after he'd realized that he didn't want to cut trees near the cabin. What made the chore especially enjoyable was that it gave him some exercise; it was all too easy to curl up in the cabin with the dogs for days on end, reading classics, tending the fire, or whittling little toys.
The dogs gave him all the company he usually wanted. He'd never minded being alone, but only in the last few years had he discovered that he actually preferred it. There was always something interesting happening in the woods, and now he had the time to understand and appreciate it. Though in the last few years before he'd come here, he'd almost half-forgotten that he even owned it, he'd been coming here since he was a boy, and he'd learned that he'd never really
appreciated what there was to learn about the woods, the stars, the birds, the plants. Now, there was time to learn and appreciate those things that he'd never had time for, and each day was a new day, with the prospect of something interesting to watch, study, or learn. It was never-ending, and it was wonderful.
The dogs were outside with him, and even they seemed to appreciate the exercise and being outside on a nice day. They didn't have much husky in them, and didn't stray far from the cabin; just nosed around in the snow outside, taking their time and enjoying themselves. He thought later that he might hook up the sled and take them for a short trip, just enough to limber up a bit. With only three older dogs, they wouldn't go far, but it was too nice a day to pass up.
Still, he wasn't as young as he once was, and manhandling the maul was tiring. He'd set it down, and sat down on the piece of log he'd used as a block for a breather, when he noticed Patches perk her ears up, as if she'd heard something. Soon, Axle and Dugan stopped their sniffing around, and turned their heads down the two-rut that led to the cabin. A deer, probably, floundering around in the deep snow. It wasn't a good idea to let the dogs chase deer in this kind of snow, he
thought, and one by one, he called the dogs, then took them over to the cabin and fastened them on chains.
The dogs were still intently listening; now and then, one or another would let out a little yip. Now, he heard it too, a voice off in the distance, too far to make out what they were saying, but it sounded a lot like dog-team commands. He smiled; Josh or Tiffany, probably, out training their dogs again. He was glad he'd tied the dogs up before they got closer; loose dogs caused problems with dog teams, tangling lines and raising hell, and he wouldn't want to make the kids have to put up
with the problems. Tiffany sort of put him in mind of what his daughter might have been like at that age, but it was probably Josh; it usually was, since Tiffany spent most of her days in school. He liked it when they dropped by; they never stayed long, usually not much longer than for a cup of coffee, but it was nice to talk to a human once in a while. Even though he got out once a month or so in the winter, and more in the summer, and even occasionally took his old car and drove clear down
to see his daughter and grandkids, he was always grateful for the peace when he got back to the cabin.
After a few minutes, he could definitely tell that it was dog team commands he was hearing, and now, it was close enough that he could tell it was Josh. Well, there was coffee on the stove, already; still, while he was waiting, he might as well get some work done. He stood up, picked up the maul, and started in on the firewood again. It might be a while before he got here; probably the road in didn't have trail broken any closer than the dogsled track up on the North Country Trail,
and it would be slow going for the dogs. But, the broken trail Josh would leave would make it a little easier to take the dogs out this afternoon.
He was still splitting firewood when his own dogs started in with some serious barking, welcoming the newcomers. He looked up, and could see the team come round the bend, taking it slow in the deep snow along the two-rut, with Josh behind, pushing, trying to help the dogs out. Josh was a good kid, a hard worker, really cared about his dogs. The team was a lot closer before he could see that there was someone in the sled basket. Kirsten, maybe; Tiffany's mom. She occasionally
went along for a ride in a dog sled on a training trip on a nice day, though it was strange to see her this far out. He gave Josh a big wave, all of a sudden realizing that it would be nice to see someone for a change. Josh and whoever it was in the sled basket waved back. In another moment, Josh whoa'd the team to a stop, then stepped off the runners with a big snow hook in his hand. Dog team first, of course; Josh set the snow hook in the deep snow, then took a tieline and waddled forward in the
snow, to set it to keep the team stretched out; he went out to help.
While Josh was dealing with the team, the passenger in the sled basket hoisted themselves up on the sled rails, then awkwardly swung over the side of the sled, but he didn't really pay attention until they bent over and picked up a pair of aluminum crutches.
It couldn't be . . .
The passenger peeled back her hat, and he could see that it could too be. "Judy, honey, what are you doing here?"
"I came to see you, daddy."
"Well," he smiled, "This is a big surprise."
"You didn't get my letter?"
"When did you mail it?"
"A couple weeks ago."
"Naw, I haven't been to town in a month. Probably still sitting down at the post office. Ken didn't come with you?"
"Someone had to do chores and watch the kids. Lydia really can't do both."
"Sorry to hear it," Norm said. "Why don't you come inside? I've got some coffee on. You too, Josh."
"In a while," Josh said. "I gotta give these dogs a paw check, first."
Judy struggled a little in the deep snow next to the sled; deep snow was something she'd always had trouble with, but it was only a couple of steps over to where Norm had beaten out something of a path, hauling wood into the cabin. It was easier going there, but still, she had to watch where and how she put her feet. Not for the first time, Norm wondered how she managed it at all, let alone that she managed it as well as she did. Still, he knew better than to offer her a hand; that
stubborn streak of hers had been her salvation, and he knew it. He'd been there to watch.
Norm opened the door for his daughter and let her inside. "Sorry the place is such a mess, but I wasn't expecting company," he said.
Judy looked around. There were two or three dirty dishes on the sideboard, and a book lay face down on the arm of a tattered easy chair to mark the place. She knew her father well enough that he'd categorize that as a mess. Judy was a fairly neat and organized person, but after eight years with Ken, and three kids, her definition of a mess was a lot less precise than her father's. "It's all right, Daddy," she said, unzipping her snowmobile suit.
"Did it get cold out there on the sled with Josh?"
"Not bad, just stiff from sitting," she said, letting the snowmobile suit slide down her legs, then stepping out of it. "I've gotten colder on the loader, feeding the steers."
She started to peel out of another layer of clothes, as Norm went to get the coffeepot from the back of the stove. He was glad to see that his daughter knew the secret to staying warm in cold weather -- lots of layers. But it was warm in the cabin, and she'd want to get rid of a lot of them. "How's Ken, and the kids?"
"Ken's fine, always the same old Ken. It was the luckiest day of my life when Lori set him up with me. The kids are getting bigger. Phil's in first grade; we could have started Chet in kindergarten this fall, but he's probably a little young yet. Tom has discovered Sesame Street, and we're all grateful. Sometimes it'll keep him occupied for as much as half an hour."
"So what brings you up here?" he asked again, gently.
"Mostly, I just wanted to see you," she said. "I worry about you a lot, living alone up here like this."
"I'm fine," he said. "And, I don't mind the living alone. It's what I want."
"I know that," she said. "But, it doesn't keep me from worrying about you. I think Lydia being sick off and on is what got me worried. At least, if she gets sick, we're right across the road. But you . . ."
"Have to get along by myself," he finished the sentence for her. "There's not that much to worry about. I can take care of myself. Look, I know I can't live out here forever, but as long as I'm young enough to take care of myself, I want to. When the time comes that I can't, I'll move into town, or back to Willow Lake, or something."
"I knew you'd say that," Judy said. "You've said it before. It'd still be nice to see you a little more often, and the boys would like to see you more often, too."
The door opened, and Josh came in, still dressed for the trail. "You like a cup of coffee, Josh?" Norm asked.
"Sure thing," the young man said. "By the way, you've got a big-ass deadfall across the two-rut, out by the trail."
"Knew about it," Norm said, going for the coffee pot. "Figured I might as well let it lay till I have to drive out. Might keep a few snow machines out."
"I can appreciate it myself," Josh said, starting to peel off his parka. "I'm not too crazy about iron dogs, either."
"You about set to go racing? Warsaw Run's pretty soon, isn't it?"
"Been doing sprints about every other weekend since deer season ended," Josh replied. The Warsaw Run's next weekend, then I'm going to head up to Minnesota as soon as it's over, and run the John Beargrease. That's a five hundred miler. Then, a couple weeks after that, the Michigan 200."
"Tough race schedule you got there," Norm said, handing him the coffee.
"Well, I need to get some experience at the longer distances. So does Tiffany; she wants to run the Iditarod in two years, and I might just take a shot at it myself."
"The Iditarod? You want to play with the big boys, huh?"
"Probably get my butt shot off in the process, but I think it's one of those things I ought to do at least once."
"What's this Iditarod?" Judy asked.
Norm smiled. "The Iditarod is up in Alaska, and it's the biggest dogsled race there is. A thousand forty-nine miles, Anchorage to Nome."
Judy shook her head. "That's some race."
"It helps to be a little crazy," Josh admitted. "Tiffany fits the description. She's the one that's really obsessed about it." He changed the subject. "Norm, look, I hope it's OK that I brought Judy out here."
"No problem," Norm said. "I'm not a hermit. I admit, I guess I act like one sometimes, but feel free to bring Judy out any time she wants to come. Not seeing her enough is the one downside to my living out here."
"Well, so long as it's all right," Josh said. "Look, I can't hang around here all day, and I'm sure the two of you would like to spend some time together. What do you say if I take the team back, and come back with the other half of the team later? Say, about three hours, maybe a little more? That'd give you some time to talk."
"I have to get back tonight, Daddy," Judy chimed in.
"Fine with me," Norm said.
"Anything I can bring you?"
"Naw, I've got to make it into town in the next few days. Thought I might come in over the weekend and see a little of the race."
"Should be a good one," Josh said, draining his coffee. "I can always use an extra handler at the start, so if you're there, don't be shy. I'll get on the move, then."
"I'll come out and help you get started," Norm offered.
"No need," Josh said. "See you later." He headed for the door.
"Darn good kid," Norm said after Josh left. "He and Tiffany are both darn good kids. They got me set up with my dogs, and she taught me what I know about running them. She was just a little snip of a thing at the time, still in junior high, but she sure knows how to work with those dogs."
"Never met her," Judy said. "His girl friend?"
"Not really his girl friend, they're just friends, at least most of the time," Norm explained. "That is, until they get in a race, and then you'd think they were going to shoot each other. Soon as it's over with, they're back to best buddies. She's still a little young to be his girlfriend, but I'm not taking bets about a few years from now. The thing I like about them both is that they're never satisfied with good enough, at least as far as the dogs are concerned. The two of them are probably
the best dogsled racers in the state, and they're always looking for ways to improve. They could win a ten mile race by five miles, and still be looking for mistakes they can correct and things they can do better."
The trip back home was a lot easier than the trip out to Norms had been, if only because the sled was lighter, and the trail was now broken. Josh watched the dogs work, and decided he liked the way Geep worked. Out of the same litter of five as Alco, he'd not seen much leadership potential in Geep until recently, and hadn't worked with the dog like he had with Alco. Somehow or other, in the next few days, he'd have to get Geep out in single lead with a small, controllable team, and see if he really was seeing what he was thinking he was seeing. If Geep could take commands, even a little, with Alco alongside it might be all the leader he'd need for the Warsaw run, and the Michigan 200, still a month off. That started him thinking about which dogs to use in which races, again.
The big problem was that the Warsaw Run was next weekend, and they'd no sooner be done with that then they'd have to be heading for the Beargrease, without much chance for rest or reorganization. The Warsaw Run was only a hundred miles, but he stood a good chance to win it -- he'd done it the previous year -- or at least finish in the money. The John Beargrease was a much bigger deal, with bigger purses; while he had a pretty good team, even finishing in the money would not be easy -- but the Beargrease was big time, not a local thing, and would be the longest race he'd run. So, the problem: put a maximum effort into the Warsaw Run, with the relatively sure money, or put his best effort into the Beargrease, with greater prestige and the chance of running with some really topnotch teams, but probably take it on the chin financially?
He didn't have a lot of dogs that he'd want to take on a 100-mile race one weekend, and a 500-mile one three days later. Even with the pick of Tiffany's dogs, it was going to be a tough decision. Tiffany wasn't old enough to run the Beargrease yet, but would be next year; they'd agreed to share dogs and take turns, at least this year and maybe the next. But, Tiffany was old enough for the Warsaw Run; she -- and her father -- had won it the first year it had been run, and she'd won it on her own two years later. She had never been out of the top five, except that one year that her father had made her give it a pass. Then, with two weeks rest, it would be a real scratch to come up with two 12-dog teams for the Michigan 200, since there were sure to be dogs that couldn't be counted on two weeks after the Beargrease. They might be able to borrow some dogs from Mark and Mike, but there were only two or three there that really were capable of running a 200-miler. At that, there might be another few dogs around town that might be borrowed, although their training state might be doubtful. It was easy to see that if they were going to keep up this kind of schedule in future years, they were going to need even more dogs.
Their breeding program was starting to show some hope of success; they had spent several years trying to get away from the straight pound puppies, breeding their own dogs. They were down to a handful of the original pound puppies, now; the ones that hadn't measured up had largely been sold or traded off. The first of the of the breeding program dogs were two years old this year, and more were yearlings. In two more years, they should have some strong teams, indeed.
Not that the pound puppies were all bad; George was a pound puppy, after all, and he was the best leader in the area, and had sired many of the dogs out in front of him right now. Mark's Cumulus was at least technically a pound puppy -- he'd been a stray Mark had found out in the woods, and he was the original Spearfish Lake sled dog, second only to George as a leader. He was getting to be an old dog, now; this year's Pound Puppies race would probably be his last. But, on the average so far, two out of three breeding program dogs proved to be raceable dogs, while only a small percentage of pound puppies proved to be distance racing dogs, and they took more work to get to that stage than dogs raised as racers from pups, as George had been. Mark and Mike had proven to have a good talent for selecting dogs from the pound, and training them, but if a dog didn't work out, it went back to the pound. "We give them one last chance," Mark had said one time.
As he neared home, Josh had just about made up his mind to put a maximum effort into the Warsaw Run, and just run the Beargrease for the experience, letting a few of his better dogs sit out the Beargrease in hopes of having a core of them on top line for the Michigan 200; it would give him a better chance of finishing in the money in the shorter races. Not being familiar with the Beargrease, even with the best dogs, a money finish seemed unlikely. But, he'd changed his mind, before, and would probably change it again before the week was out and he had to commit himself. But which dogs . . . which leaders . . . that solved very little.
He had just staked down the sled and was beginning to shuffle dogs around when a car pulled into the driveway. He looked up, and saw that it was Phil Wines, coming for a visit.
It would be good to see Phil again; it'd been months. In a sort of way, Phil was the third member of the Run-8 team of mushers. Phil had the dogsledding bug as bad as anyone around Spearfish Lake, although with his job, owning dogs was out of the question. Though with nothing like Josh and Tiffany's experience, Phil had opened the door to the top rank for them when he'd found Nimbus and Shack in Alaska, checked them out with Joe Reddington, no less, and shipped them home two and a half years before. Nimbus had produced two smallish but absolutely top-line litters, including Alco and Geep; Shack was on her fourth for them. Some day, he would stop his world-traveling job, and planned to have a dog team of his own, and he'd get the best Josh and Tiffany could give him. In the meantime, he worked with Josh and Tiffany's dogs when he could. Josh was glad to have him as an occasional dog trainer. Phil, in fact, was the only one of the Spearfish Lake mushers that had ever been in Alaska for the Iditarod, though just a spectator at Wasilla, but he'd brought back useful information.
"Hi, Phil," Josh called. "You back for long?"
"First of the week, probably," he said. "Then it's Johannesburg, unless something comes up."
"Brandy's not home, I take it?"
"Bolivia."
"She going to be back this trip?"
"Probably not," Phil shook his head.
"You in the mood to run some dogs?" Josh asked.
"Been ready for weeks," Phil said. "I'd been hoping that you'd have enough extras to let me run the Pound Puppies."
"Well, maybe," Josh said. "There'll be dogs that can use the exercise. I'll have to talk it over with Tiffany, and see what dogs she's planning on running. We can probably work something out, even if we have to borrow a dog or two from Mark or Mike. Don't plan on winning, though; I'm going to have to give you Crosstie for a leader. She's the only pound puppy I've got left that'll take commands."
"Just finishing better than last will be fine," Phil said.
"We ought to be able to work something out," Josh agreed. "We can talk it over with Tiffany tonight. Right now, though, I've gotta shuffle some dogs. I've got to go pick somebody up."
"Want me to come along? I wouldn't mind a run in the woods."
"No reason why not," Josh said. "Let's bust out another sled, and just hook up the rest of the dogs. There's a couple I didn't plan on taking again, but the rest of them could use a longer run."
The thought soon crossed Josh's mind that this was the perfect opportunity to give Geep a good tryout in single lead, so they switched dogs around a bit, putting him in the lead in front of some of the better trail dogs, in a seven-dog team. Phil wound up with twelve dogs, most of which had made the run to Norm's already, with Crosstie and Alco in the lead. Crosstie could be counted on to keep the larger team's speed down to the more controllable smaller team's, so it seemed to balance out about right. If Geep didn't work out in the lead, they could swap him with Alco.
It was a while before they were ready to go, and in the middle, they ducked inside the trailer for a quick sandwich, while Phil pulled on trail clothes. Shortly though, they were under way, with Josh in the lead.
The first couple of miles would be the real test for Geep, Josh knew, but he followed the broken trail out to the North Country Trail as nice as could be. Josh looked back; predictably, Crosstie was keeping the speed of the larger team down already, so he made a big test: as the spur reached the North Country Trail, he called "HAW, HAW!" and the lead dog obediently turned the team onto the unbroken trail. Josh made up his mind right there that he had a leader; Alco would have tried to stay on the broken trail. All of a sudden, and not for the first time, Josh was sorry that he'd named the dog "Geep"; it sounded too close to the "Gee" command. He'd have to watch that, and remember not to call the dog's name, and that would be cumbersome, and not good training.
Now for a real test; he didn't want to go too far down the unbroken trail. A short distance away, there was a small clearing. "EASY," he commanded, and Geep slowed right down. The next command, Josh had never given the dog while it was in the lead, even double lead, although he knew the dog had done it while in team: "COME GEE. COME GEE."
That may have been the most impressive of all. Geep turned the team in a tight right turn, the radius about the length of the team, and headed back down the trail the other way. Josh got a big smile on his face: George could not have done it better. Unless Geep really screwed up on the rest of the trip, and Josh didn't think it likely, he'd solved the Warsaw Run leader problem. Geep would be extremely green as a leader, but Alco would help. It was just too bad that he hadn't discovered the desire to lead in Geep a couple of months ago, when there was time for more training. Maybe, given time, he could even get the dog to respond to a different name: Jimmy, maybe. It meant about the same thing. Or, maybe Gib, or Gype, or something close.
They got back to the broken trail just ahead of Phil and the rest of the team. No point in letting Tiffany know what he'd discovered, at least just now. "That's what happens when you've got a green leader," Josh lied to Phil. "You wind up going the wrong way, sometimes. Try to keep Crosstie moving. I don't want `em dragging ass."
"Will do," Phil said.
On the run down the trail, Crosstie kept lagging behind. Finally, out short of 919, Josh knew it wasn't working, and called a halt. "We better switch around some," he said when Phil had the snow hook for the bigger team set. Let's switch Crosstie around with, oh hell, Baldwin, I guess. He'll lead on trail some, and Alco will keep him honest. We'll have to switch them back before we get back to the house, but Alco ought to do for now as long as we're in front."
"Yeah, this is pretty frustrating," Phil said as he went to unsnap Baldwin from the gangline, while Josh brought Crosstie back. "And I'm going to have to run the Pound Puppies with Crosstie in front?"
"Only at the start, the finish, and the turn point at the club," Josh said. "I'll find some dog that'll lead on trail some. You let them lead, and leave Crosstie in wheel."
The switch speeded the bigger team up considerably; once they got moving, the bigger team stayed right up with the smaller one; Phil kept them maybe twenty or thirty yards behind. Josh suspected they might run even faster if he took a couple dogs from the bigger team and added them to the smaller one, but by the time he'd figured that out, it was too close to Norm's to bother. With Judy's weight in the sled, they might even want to add dogs to the bigger team to keep things even.
It was getting along in the day, now; Josh didn't want to look at his watch, but he could tell from the sun that it was every bit of the three hours he'd promised, and probably closer to four, when Norm's cabin again looked through the trees. All the extra screwing around with the extra team, and then Crosstie's lagging had slowed them down. He hoped Judy wouldn't mind.
He was a little surprised to see Norm's sled sitting outside, and his three dogs harnessed and waiting when he braked the sled to a stop, well past the cabin. He set a single snow hook, then turned to wave Phil forward, so the sled would be as close as possible to the beaten-out area in front of the cabin; he'd noticed the problem Judy had had getting around in the deep snow, earlier. It took a minute or two to get snow hooks set, and in the meantime the noise had brought Norm and Judy out, their parka hoods still thrown back. Josh was getting up to the cabin when he heard Phil say, "My God! What are you two doing here?"
"Phil?" Judy said. "Is that you?"
Phil threw back his parka and said, "This is the last place I'd ever expect to find either of you."
"Well, the same for you," Judy smiled.
Josh stumbled through the deep snow up to the other three. "I take it you all know each other."
"Lord, yes," Norm said. "Phil used to work for me, back when he was in school."
"Judith and I went through school together," Phil elaborated. "Jeez, Judith, I haven't seen you since, oh, about the time you and Ken got married. What are you doing out here, anyway?"
"I came to visit Daddy," the woman said. "He lives here. What are you doing here?"
"I just came with Josh. I help him train his team, every now and then, when I'm home. How's Ken doing, anyway?"
"Same as ever. Getting a bit older, but aren't we all?"
"I heard you've got kids, now."
"Three boys, and another on the way."
"Well, I'd never have believed it, back when we were in school."
"Look," Josh broke into the conversation. "It's later than I hoped. We're going to have to get a move on if we're going to get back before dark, and I didn't think to bring a headlamp. If you guys want to do the old home week stuff, why doesn't Judy ride back with you, with the big team?"
"If you think I can handle it," Phil said.
"I'm coming out, too," Norm said. "Judy's convinced me that there are a couple things I need to take care of down in Willow Lake. She's going to take me down there, and bring me back this weekend. Josh, can you watch my dogs for a few days?"
"Sure, not a problem." He glanced at Norm's three dogs. They weren't terribly old, but they were slow, too slow for racing, even though he remembered Axle was a pretty good leader. "Maybe we'd better fill your team out a little, so you can keep up with us."
"I'd appreciate it."
While Judy got settled in the sled, Josh and Norm took Bingo and Hemp from the small team, and added them to Norm's team. "Probably could balance them out a little closer, but this isn't going to be a speed trip," Josh said. "I'll take point, and if you get too far behind, we'll stop and let you catch up."
In a few minutes, they were ready to go. Josh reminded Phil they'd have to stop on the trail before reaching Mark's, to switch his leaders around. He hiked his team -- now just five dogs -- into motion. It was almost like the old days of the first Pound Puppies race, but this was a lot better team than he'd had back in the early times. The second Warsaw Run, he'd made with a team of seven. The memory brought a smile. Crosstie had been a lot younger then, and faster then than now, the ideal leader for that gang. God, that was a good team! Not real fast, by current standards, but guts! Only Crosstie was left out of that gang, now, the team he'd gotten from Woody, but there were several trophies on the shelf in the trailer that they'd won. They had been good days, but seemed far away now.
He looked back down the two-rut. Phil was twenty or thirty yards behind, with Judy and the big team, and Norm was about as far behind them. It was going to be busy out on the trail this afternoon, like an afternoon rush hour.