The wind had already begun to bite at Scarlett’s cheeks. Normally she’d have stopped a training run by now, tied the dogs back up, given everyone some rest. But this was the big one. Nobody took potty breaks during the great race, and Scarlett had more of a reason to win than any of them. So what if she was a rookie? So what if she’d had to finish her first official race on foot? The only thing that mattered now was pushing herself and her dogs to their limits—and then going past even that.
As the sled continued its Northern trek, the air grew colder and colder, and Scarlett had to flex her toes inside her boots to make sure they retained feeling. She’d trained hard for this, but nothing had quite prepared for the actual longevity of the Iditarod. It could be two full weeks for her on the back of that sled.
They said there was a certain inevitability that one day, the great race would have to come to end. Scarlett knew that when it did, Alaska would lose a part of its soul. And maybe so would she.
Thank goodness for the checkpoints scattered along the path to Nome. Without them, Scarlett doubted she would even remember to eat or sleep. So badly she wanted to finish—and finish well. And it was that pressing desire for victory that fueled her forward. When she’d first started going out with Lauren on the sled, she’d marveled at the pretty snow, how the wind made it feel like she was flying. Now she hardly noticed those things.
She was all business now, and luckily her friend understood that and helped to offer little bits of advice whenever they ran into each other at a check-in.
“Don’t work too hard to be in the lead right now,” Lauren had confided in her. “Make someone else break the trail for you. And don’t let all the stares bug you. They might be surprised that a rookie is doing this good, but I’m not.”
At that thought, Scarlett glanced around the tiny outpost, surprised to see that there were very few others at the checkpoint with them. She’d been so focused on her own team that she hadn’t noticed that she was consistently coming into the checkpoints just a couple hours behind the head of the pack.
“Just remember,” Lauren had said that first night, “we’ve got two mandatory rests to make. One’s eight hours and one’s twenty-four. You can take the big one anywhere, but the first eight-hour needs to be taken along Yukon. After that, we’ve got another eight hours in White Mountain.”
Scarlett nodded, flexing her hands to circulate the blood.
“Scar,” Lauren warned when she saw how preoccupied her friend’s mind was with other things. “This is important. Don’t feel like you have to push to leave the checkpoints as soon as you get there. The dogs come first. Take care of them, take care of you, and when you’re ready, get back on the trail. I know you’ve said you’re going to do this, but there’s no shame in scratching.”
No shame in scratching? She doubted Henry would drop out of the race. And neither would she.
Catching the concerned expression on Scarlett’s face, Lauren circled back, “No, I don’t suspect that you’ll need to with as good as you’re doing. I just know that things can happen out on the trail, and, well...if you need to scratch for the safety of your dogs or your health, do it.“
Scarlett agreed to stay safe, but secretly she knew she would push if she needed to. She would never endanger her dogs, and luckily, she knew they were ready for this.
Back out on the trail, Scarlett focused on the path in front of her as she ventured through a part of the state that most people would never see. The so-called Last Frontier was every bit as dangerous and beautiful as Jack London had described it in his books. Scarlett silently kicked herself now for not having named one of the puppies after a character from one of his works.
As she pulled into the checkpoint at Ruby, Scarlett noticed an unsteadiness in Fred’s gait. She quickly checked in with the race official and returned to examine her favorite dog. He was agitated now, stamping red foot prints in the snow. He’d somehow managed to remove one of his purple booties and flung it to the side.
No, no, no, she thought. I need Fred. He’s my wheel dog. He’s my best.
“It’s okay, boy,” she soothed the dog before running off to find an assigned vet.
The vet talked calmly as she examined Fred, then told Scarlett, “Looks like he’s gotten ice in his pads, and it’s caused a cut. You can rest him here. A lot of mushers choose this checkpoint as their eight-hour layover. If he’s doing better, you can bandage the foot and reboot him and see if he’ll run, but chances are you’ll have to drop him here.”
Scarlett waited the requisite eight hours, but sleep was hard to come by. She hoped her team was doing better outside. So many worries swirled together in her mind like a blizzard. Would Fred be able to continue on? Would she be able to compete without him? And what about Henry? She still didn’t know whether he was ahead of her or behind. Unlike Lauren, she hadn’t seen him since the beginning.
When at last the wait was up, she rushed to find the vet to get a prognosis on Fred, but had to wait while the woman finished an exam for another dog.
Scarlett tried to be strong for Fred and the other dogs, but inside, she was breaking apart like Alaska in the springtime. “Fred, buddy. I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry. You tried to tell me back in Anchorage, didn’t you?” she said, thinking back to the way he had stamped his foot impatiently at the starting lineup. “I’m sorry I didn’t understand you then.”
The vet came over to them then and bent down to check on Fred’s paw. “Seems we have a bit of good news this morning. Fred looks like he’s already on the mend. It was a small cut, and it’s doing much better. You’ve got about fifty miles to Galena from here. Take him out, and if he starts showing signs that he’s not going to be able to race, put him in the basket and drop him in Galena. The choice is yours.” She gave Fred a loving stroke between the ears. “And his. Good luck out there. Godspeed.”
Scarlett thanked her for the help, and once the vet left to check on the other teams, asked, “What do you say, Fred? Want to go on? Or are you done?”
Fred shook himself off and yipped happily at her.
“Atta boy,” she said, giving him a nice scratch between the ears. “We’re not out of this yet!”