Fire and Ice (19 page)

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 task 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.”

“That’s Rachel!” Darby grabbed Robyn’s hand and laughed.

“See her red hood? It’s Rachel for sure. Billy Olan’s wearing dark green.”

They watched in silence as the two teams skimmed over the lake. Billy’s fourteen dogs gained slowly on Rachel. As his leaders came up to her sled and veered out around her team, Rachel bent low. The watchers faintly heard her call to her dogs. They put on a new burst of speed and maintained their lead all the way across the ice, though not increasing it.

When they reached the near side of the lake, Rachel’s team bounded up the bank and out of sight into a stand of trees on the shore. Billy’s team ran after her.

“Let’s go back,” Aven said. “We don’t want to miss it when they cross the finish line.”

They squeezed into the truck. Robyn took the radio and called her mother as they barreled down the hill to the paved road and back to the race’s finish area.

Mom and Grandpa were just coming from the headquarters building, and Robyn ran over to update them. “Mom, I think Rachel might win it. She was barely ahead of Billy when they crossed the lake. I’m so excited for her!”

“I’ll be disappointed if she loses now,” Darby said.

Grandpa looked eagerly toward the finish line. “No matter where she places, she’s run a good race.”

“Yes. I’m thinking she and Billy might both break the race record.” Robyn chuckled in delight. “I hope that guy from the
Frontiersman
is still here.”

“He’s inside eating doughnuts,” Mom said.

“Yes, I let him interview me about the history of the race.” Grandpa nodded and leaned on his daughter-in-law’s shoulder. “Come on, Cheryl, I need to get back to my chair and sit down.”

The crowd stood three-deep along the lane roped off to form the finish. Grandpa sat to one side just over the line, with the rest of the Holland family close by. The throng roared and cheered as the teams came in, but the dogs trotted on until they crossed the line and the mushers called, “Whoa.” Caddie and the news photographer snapped away with their cameras.

Rachel Fisher brought her team in just seconds before Billy Olan’s. Rachel set her snow hook and fell into her excited husband’s arms.

Aven used the portable speaker to draw the people’s attention and handed the microphone to Robyn.