Fire and Ice (5 page)

“Yeah. I’m not sure how we’ll do. There’s a meeting next Saturday for all the volunteers. If you’re busy, it’s okay.”

“I’ll be there. What time?”

“Ten o’clock, at Iditarod Headquarters. They’re letting us use the meeting room.”

“Nice.”

She nodded. “Mom is helping a lot, but it’s been tough since my dad died. Grandpa and I do most of the race preparation, and we get friends to help. My brother and his wife plan to come the week of the race. Aven’s terrific. He’ll do all the last-minute heavy work. Ormand Lesley is our race marshal. He does a lot of work, too. And we’ve got people organizing the mushers’ drop bags and communications and—oh, a thousand other things.”

“Even a race of this scale is a ton of work, isn’t it?”

“It sure is. But we’ve done whatever we had to in order to keep it going these last few years. The success of the Fire & Ice is important to our business.”

“I thought it might be. I’m happy to volunteer my services for the day.”

“I’ll give you the toughest duties.”

He grinned. “That’s what I want. Let me at it. And if the route will allow me to do the check-in exams and then go off to another spot farther down the line, I’ll do it. I know the teams loop around and come back to the start, but I might be able to help someplace else for a few hours. Whatever you need.”

“That’s terrific. I’ll take you up on it.” She stood for a moment, looking up into his gleaming eyes. Rick Baker could surely give a girl ideas.

“Hey, let me help you feed the dogs tonight,” he said.

“Really? You don’t need to.”

“I know. I want to. You’ve been gone all day, and I’ll bet you’re tired.”

“Okay, you asked for it. I’ve got meat in the refrigerator. The rest of it’s out in the barn.”

She led him into the kitchen. Mom bent over a base cabinet and pulled out a frying pan. “Feel like a grilled cheese sandwich, Robyn?”

“Sure. Thanks. Dr. Baker’s going to help me feed the mutts, so it won’t take long.”

“Rick, have you had supper?” Mom asked. “It’s not fancy, but I can make a few extra sandwiches without any trouble.”

“Well …” He eyed her with his eyebrows arched.

“Why not?” Robyn asked. “You’ll be earning your keep.”

He laughed. “All right. Thank you, Mrs. Holland.”

“It’s Cheryl. And thank
you
. I think Robyn and I are both frazzled tonight.”

A note was tacked to the door of the shed they referred to as the “the barn.”

Rick read it over her shoulder. “She’s a good kid,” he said.

“Yes. She loves dogs, and she’s a big help to me lately. I wish I could afford to pay her.”

“She’s getting paid in the knowledge you’re giving her.”

Robyn nodded. “I promised her I’d teach her to drive the sled this winter. She’s had a couple of lessons. She’ll be good at it.”

In less than twenty minutes, Robyn had doled out the dog food and meat, while Rick filled the water dishes. Robyn took a few seconds to pat and speak to each dog. She never liked being away from them all day. Tomorrow Darby would probably spend most of the day here. Training runs and puppy lessons would fill the hours.

Rick walked with her back to the house. For a few seconds, everything felt in sync. If she could just forget about their finances, Grandpa’s accident, and the buyer coming to look over her best dogs, life would be close to perfect right now.

Robyn went about her chores in the dark Monday morning, trying not to think too hard about the day’s schedule. The buyer was to arrive at nine a.m.

When she went inside after her morning feeding and cleanup, Mom was vacuuming the living room. She shut the vacuum off when Robyn came in. “Just slicking up a little. I’m glad we got the Christmas tree out of the house, but it left needles all over the rug.”

Robyn didn’t feel like doing anything special to get ready for the buyer, but that attitude would only show her immaturity. She raised her chin. “Do you want me to do anything to help?”

“No, just eat breakfast and try not to fret. Mr. Sterns will be here in an hour or so, and then we’ll know one way or another if he wants to buy some dogs. Worrying about it won’t change things.”

“Mom—”

“Don’t tell me you don’t want to sell any dogs.” Her mother put her hand to her temple and sighed. “I’m sorry, Robyn. The last few days have been …”

“I know. And I’m sorry.” Robyn sat down on the arm of the couch. “I know it’s been hard, going back and forth to see Grandpa. And I didn’t like what the therapist said yesterday any better than you did.”

Her mother came over and sat down in the chair opposite her. “Honey, we can’t afford the skilled care for long. What little we had put away will be gone soon, but the physical therapist thinks Grandpa may need extended treatment.”

Robyn nodded, mulling over what they’d heard the day before. “Six weeks, he said. Grandpa sure didn’t like that.”

“Neither do I,” her mother admitted. “It’s far longer than Dr. Mellin thought he’d need. But the therapist was right that Grandpa’s still very weak. If he came home and took a bad fall, we’d be in a worse situation.”

“So what can we do?”

“I hope they’ll let us bring him home after a couple of weeks and drive him in for his appointments. Even using all that gas would be cheaper than keeping him in rehab.”

“Mom, if we sell the breeding stock, our business will collapse.” Robyn held her gaze and plunged on. “Selling good quality pups and trained sled dogs is our bread and butter. The race helps, but I don’t see how we could continue running the Fire & Ice without a breeding kennel to support it. And your job isn’t enough.”

“I know all that.” Mom pulled in a deep breath. “Sometimes I wonder if …”

“If what?”

“If we should sell the property and the business.”

Robyn stared at her. “Everything? Sell the house and … no. We can’t. What would we do? Where would we live?”

“I don’t know, sweetie. I just think some days that we can’t keep on the way we are.”

“But … you don’t want to move into Anchorage, do you? Get jobs there? Housing is really expensive in the city.”

“That’s true. And we own this place outright.” Her mother ran a hand through her short, curly hair. “I don’t know what to think. I just know things can’t stay the same. I suppose we’re better off in a house we own than paying rent. But with Grandpa’s care …”

“Let’s see what that social worker can tell us,” Robyn said. “Dr. Mellin thought we might not be figuring right on the coverage. She said the government would use the patient’s savings if insurance or Medicare won’t pay for the treatment, but they can’t take everything we have, too.”

“You’re right.” Her mother stood and gave her a wan smile. “Hey, I’m going to do a little dusting in here. Why don’t you eat something? And take off your jacket.”

Robyn looked down at the grubby jacket she wore when she cleaned the dog pens. Usually when customers came, she changed her clothes and tried to look somewhat professional. Today she was so downhearted, she didn’t really care if Mr. Sterns thought she looked scruffy.

As she poured milk on her cereal a few minutes later, she heard her mother’s phone ring. If that was Philip Sterns, she was glad he had Mom’s number, not hers. She didn’t want to talk to him until she had to.

A lilt in her mother’s tone drew her to the door between the rooms. Mom smiled at her and mouthed, “Aven.”

Her brother’s name was the first thing to make her smile since Rick Baker’s visit on Friday evening. Robyn did miss the traditional telephone, with extensions that allowed them all to share a conversation at once. She thought of asking Mom to use the speaker phone feature but instead concentrated on finishing her cereal. She’d get the details later.

Mom talked for a few minutes, giving Aven an update on Grandpa’s condition. “That sounds great. Here, let me give the phone to Robyn. You can tell her yourself.”

Robyn took it and put it to her ear. “Hey, how you doing?”

“Terrific. Caddie and I are planning to come up the Saturday before the race and stay all week. We want to spend some time with Grandpa and the rest of you.”

“That’s wonderful.” Unexpected tears filled her eyes. “This is a good time for you to come.”

“Oh? Better than usual?”

“We just need a little head-patting.” Robyn wiped a tear away with her sleeve.

“Hey, kiddo, it’s going to be okay. We’ll talk everything over when I’m there.”

She sniffed. “Good. Because Mom and I are kind of discouraged right now.”

“I know. We’re praying for you. We’ll see you soon.”

She signed off and handed the phone back to her mother. As she wiped away another tear, she smiled sheepishly. “Don’t know why he makes me cry. I’m glad he’s coming.”

“Yes. Maybe he can help us make some decisions about your grandfather’s care.” Mom slid the phone into her pocket and held her arms out to Robyn. “Honey, I’m sorry that you’re feeling so sad.”

Robyn hugged her. “I don’t mean to get upset. I just don’t think this is a good time to think about selling our land and our dogs when they support us, even if we don’t have much.”

Her mother patted her back. “I know. Let’s talk about this later. I think I hear someone driving in.”

“Oh, great!” Robyn stepped back. “My face is all blotchy, isn’t it?”

Mom chuckled. “Go clean up. I’ll offer him coffee.”

Philip Sterns stood when Robyn entered the room. That was a good sign, in her book. He looked to be about forty, with long, sturdy limbs. His hair receded off his forehead, and he wore glasses. Robyn tried not to form an opinion at first glance, but she didn’t like him. His ears stuck out noticeably beyond the bows of his glasses, and his teeth looked overly white, like snow no one’s walked on.

“Robyn is our head trainer now,” her mother said as Robyn shook Sterns’s hand. “My father-in-law helps her, but she’s the boss.”

“I’d be happy to show you the dogs I’m ready to sell,” Robyn said. She put on her best jacket and led Sterns out the back door and to the dog lot.

“You have a gorgeous location.” He looked appreciatively toward the mountain peaks.

“Thanks.” She opened the gate to the enclosure for the adult male dogs. From puppies to retirees, all the dogs began barking as soon as they entered the yard. “Hush now,” Robyn called softly, and the din subsided to an occasional yip.

“How do you make them do that?” Sterns asked.

She laughed. “One of the first things I teach my dogs is to be quiet unless there’s something to bark about. Otherwise, our neighbors wouldn’t be too happy.”

“That’s a pretty good trick.”

“I understand you’re new to dog sled racing,” she said.

“Yes. A friend of mine took me to a couple of races in the Sierras last winter, and I fell in love with the sport. I’ve bought a couple of dogs, but I understand Alaskan huskies are the best.”

“We like to think so, too.”

He laughed. “I’ve done some research, and I’m thinking about doing some experimental breeding.”

Robyn stopped with her hand on the latch of the gate. “How do you mean?”

“I’d like to try crossing huskies with some greyhound blood.”

She nodded slowly. “Have you done any reading about that sort of crossbreeding?”

“A little. Oh, I know it’s been tried before, but I have some ideas of my own.”

“I see. Have you bred dogs before, Mr. Sterns? Or is this a new interest, since you became enamored of mushing?”

“I haven’t actually raised any animals myself yet, but I want to. I’ve read that it’s best to raise and train your own team. They know what you expect better that way.”

“That can be true, but for someone new to the sport, it might be best to start with a team that’s already mature and trained to mush. Get used to running the team, and make sure you like it. Then, if you want to get into breeding …”

“Oh, I know I like it.” He grinned at her. “My friend let me drive his dogs a few times, and I’m hooked. What I’d really like to find is a team that’s ready to go now, and I could do a few short races this spring. Then I can breed the dogs and start building my custom team. And next year … well, I’m thinking maybe I’ll try to qualify for the big one.”