Sleigh Ride to Love

by Rosemary J. Anderson

  Her thoughts were interrupted by the excited barking of her dogs. The tension was high and in seconds she’d be off. In her stomach nerves churned like dough in a mixer and her hands in their gloves felt hot and sweaty. She could hardly believe she was finally here, ready to take her place as a musher in the most exciting, strenuous race on earth. Man or woman against the elements, danger around every corner and adventure untold. However, now the time had come she felt an overwhelming urge to call it off, to back down, to go back to the safety of hearth and home. But now, she’d left it. Too late, it was her turn to go.

  The sleigh lurched as she shouted “mush” and she clung tightly to the handrail. They were off! The wind teased the wayward locks of her hair escaping from under her hood, and playfully lifted the fur edging. She looked out toward the lead dogs, Zeus and Odin, as they raced like the wind, pulling the sleigh with strength and stamina. They were in top form, at their prime and they were ecstatic to be running, their enthusiasm for the race obvious for all to see.

  * * * *

  Time passed and the team ate up the miles, never faltering, pulling the sleigh with ease. But the weather was changing and it was beginning to snow. The temperature had dropped and she could feel the difference in the atmosphere and by the ice on her cheeks. Reaching into the pocket of her heavy coat she pulled out a scarf and wrapped it around the lower part of her face below her goggles. The snow was thicker now and she squinted, attempting to see through the curtain of white. The weather forecast hadn’t made mention of a heavy snowfall, she was sure of it, and yet it was getting worse with every second that passed. Pressing on, her exhilaration now tempered by the blizzard, she resorted to prayer as visibility became almost nonexistent. She’d had a short check stop at Yenta Station some six hours ago and since then her speed had dropped due to the weather conditions. Quickly doing some calculations in her head she realized with a heavy, sinking feeling that traveling at the slower speed meant it would be at least another two or three more hours before she reached the next checkpoint at Skwenta.

  Becoming aware of a large dark shape looming up behind her, her heart lurched, and shaking in sheer fright and with little time to think she shouted to her dogs, “Haw.” Immediately they obeyed, quickly wheeling to the left. Uneasily she looked to her right and realized that the perceived danger was in fact another dog team, and the musher was shouting at her to pull over.

  Slowing down she took one foot off the runner and placing it on the ground called to the dogs to “whoa.” She applied pressure on the brake as the dogs came to a complete halt yapping and barking in protest.

  Jumping free of the sleigh, Holly feeling really angry clenched her glove-clad hands into tight fists and almost bounded across the snow toward the other sleigh that had halted a few feet away.

  “What the hell…” she began, her voice somewhat muffled by the scarf wound around her face and the high-pitched whistling of the wind.

  Grabbing hold of the other musher’s arm as he stepped off his runners, she attempted to swing him around to face her.

  “You are the most…” She stopped in pained surprise as the man pulled down his scarf. “Zachariah!”

  “Yes, Zachariah.” He lifted his goggles and his brown eyes looked down into hers as he grabbed her upper arms. “Tell me something, Holly.” His voice was soft and more frightening because of its gentle intensity. “Are you out of your cotton-picking mind? At the first indication of severe weather you should have pulled over, any experienced musher would have done so, and yet you carried on regardless, putting yourself and your dogs at risk. Can you get anymore irresponsible?” He shook her gently.

  Angry that Zachariah had to be the one that pointed out her foolishness, she resorted to anger to hide her shame.

  “Well, what about you?” she threw back at him. “You obviously don’t take your own advice because here you are maligning me for my irresponsibility, yet you are no better than me, Mr. Big Shot!” She poked him in the chest.

  “You stupid little…” He clenched his teeth, took a deep, calming breath, and continued. “The reason I’m still out in this god awful weather is because I’ve been behind you for some time, hoping you would have the good sense to stop. But, as it seems my faith in your common sense appears to have been sadly misplaced, and as the indications are that this freak storm is going to get worse before it gets better, I decided it was time to step in for both our sakes.”

  “Oh, oh…” Unable to think of something clever or witty to say Holly closed her mouth with a snap and turned to her dogs who were kicking up a racket.

  “You are welcome,” Zachariah retorted somewhat sarcastically.

  Coming to a halt and with her back still turned to him, Holly bit her lip. “Yes, sorry, thank you.”

  “Stake down your dogs and feed them, then, please do the same for mine. I’ll put up a tent, which we’ll have to share tonight, then I’ll get us something to eat. And, Holly…” he shouted as she moved off without acknowledging his words.

  “Yes?” She slowly turned to face him.

  “Make sure the dogs are really secure, we wouldn’t want to be out here without them. And try not to take too long about it.”

  Doing an about-turn Holly marched off to deal with the dogs. “Yes, sir, whatever you say sir, three bags full, sir.”

  Grinning in spite of himself, Zachariah pulled the tent from the sleigh.

  Chapter Four

  The tent stood erect, looking to Holly’s jaundiced eyes as insubstantial as a sand castle in the howling wind. The alcohol stove was set up and a pot was coming to the boil, the dogs had been fed a high-protein soup and were now bedded down on handfuls of straw. Holly crawled inside the tent and placed both hers and Zachariah’s sleeping bags on top of a plastic groundsheet, but so cramped was the quarters that it was almost like they were sharing one bag. However, it was only for a few hours at the most. The flap was thrown back and a flurry of snow was blown in along with a crawling Zachariah. Passing one of the dishes he held to Holly, he shook the snow from his coat and sat on the bed opposite, pushing back his hood. His dark hair was ruffled, giving him a slightly rakish, pirate appearance that stirred her senses and quickened her pulse.

  “Eat it while it’s hot, it won’t do you any good cold.”

  “Thank you,” Holly whispered, trying to ignore the hunger that wasn’t for food gnawing at her insides. Sniffing the beef stew appreciatively, she dipped her spoon. A dry packet mix it might be but to her it smelt divine.

  Surreptitiously watching Zachariah while he ate, Holly felt the stirrings of something she couldn’t quite put her finger on. Tucking into his stew with boyish enjoyment Zachariah looked somehow lonely and vulnerable, and it moved her. His hair was still in disarray with flakes of melting snow nestling amongst its silky strands, and she had to resist an almighty urge to push her hands through its shiny thickness and smother him with kisses. She sighed loudly and he glanced her way. Quickly her gaze lowered to her bowl and she began shoveling stew into her mouth at a rate of knots, just to stop herself from telling him of how she was feeling. What on earth was the matter with her? He was the enemy. After all, how could she be friends with the man that had taken her innocence and left her? He was also the most annoying man on earth, the man that interfered with her life and the man she wanted to avoid at all costs, and yet here she was getting all mushy over him. That is love for you, she thought soulfully. It makes idiots of us all and makes all good reasoning and common sense fly out of the window. She had to get a grip!

  The wind was howling around the tent shaking the canvas with ferocious intensity and sounding like the eerie call of a lovelorn hound. Still bundled up in a heavy coat, Holly shivered. She’d listened to stories of her father’s experiences on the trail and had appreciated that it was going to be a difficult, but she hadn’t expected it to be this challenging so early on.

  “Wishing you hadn’t come?” Zachariah asked, almost like he could read her mind.

  “No,
what makes you think that?”

  “I can see it in your eyes, Holly, the first day and here you are shivering in a tent wondering what on earth you’ve got yourself into. There’s no shame in turning back, you know.”

  Carefully putting her bowl down on the floor, Holly stared hard at him.

  “You’d like that wouldn’t you, Zachariah Black? I’ve never forgotten what you told my father, the way you tried to persuade him not to train me to manage a team of dogs. You’ve never thought I had the skills to compete, never thought I was as good as my father, and never thought I would have the stamina to stay the course—did you? Go on, admit it. You don’t think I’m good enough.”

  “I’m not getting into this with you, Holly, this—this war of words. I admit I personally don’t think you have what it takes, but if you do, that’s great. However, all I ask is that you use a bit of common sense and take care. This is not a picnic in the park, it is a long and arduous journey through some of the most wild and dangerous country around, and you need your wits about you. You need to listen to your instincts and not go haring off half-cocked thinking you’re immune to things like frostbite and…”

  “What do you think I am, Zachariah? No matter what you say, I’m ready for this. I’ve trained just as hard as everyone else and I’ve had the added benefit of being the daughter of one of the best mushers around, so if anyone can do it I can. So thanks for the concern but butt out! Butt out of your absurd need to control me, your need to interfere in my life, and your arrogant need to give me unwanted and unsolicited advice. And while I thank you for your help today, I’ve really no need of it. I can manage perfectly well on my own. So there!”

  Whilst Holly gave vent to her feelings, Zachariah, a small smile playing around his lips, yawned widely and, swinging his legs into his sleeping bag, closed his eyes.

  “Sleep well, Holly.”

  Holly stared at him in disbelief. Was that it? Where were his egotistical protestations of him knowing best? Where were his demands she turn back? And where were his references to her being a helpless female? Surely he should be persuading her to go home, shouldn’t he?

  Suddenly feeling vulnerable and yes—a little frustrated, she mumbled an incoherent “night” and lay down, determined to put any uncertainties she had behind her.

  * * * *

  Waking in the night, feeling toasty warm, Holly lifted lashes heavy with sleep. Momentarily disorientated she frowned at the flapping white canvas above her head, and then it all came rushing back. Struggling into a sitting position, she stared at the large mound in the sleeping bag next to her. Zachariah!

  “Get some more sleep, Holly, the storm is still bad and there is no way you can leave yet,” Zachariah mumbled, his voice heavy with sleep.

  “The dogs, I must just check on them.”

  “I did it an hour ago and both teams are fine. I’ve fed them some snacks and checked the stakes are still secure. It’s all cool, so relax.”

  “Oh, well, I’m not really tired now, so umm, I’ll have another look at them if you don’t mind?”

  “I do! It’s pointless getting cold just to prove a point, and if you’re out in that, then I won’t be able to sleep, so fair’s fair, Holly.”

  Pursing her lips in annoyance, Holly sought for a clever answer but found none so instead settled for the mundane. “And what point would it be I’m trying to prove?” she burst out, feeling frustrated at her utter inability to be witty and sophisticated.

  “God, woman, aren’t you tired?” Zachariah sighed loudly as she waited expectantly. “To prove you are as good as a man, to prove you don’t need anyone, especially a man, and to prove your father was wrong, and that you are capable of being just as good as the son he really wanted. Now, unless you want to spend what is left of the night more, err—constructively.” He wiggled his eyebrows. “I suggest you lie down and get some more sleep.”

  “Well! Well, I never, I…” Words failed her.

  Zachariah grinned. “No, I don’t suppose you have.”

  Staring silently at him for a few seconds more, Holly threw herself back down and, pouting angrily, rolled over, resolutely refusing to give him the satisfaction of locking horns with him again.

  * * * *

  Early light found Holly and Zachariah sorting out their dogs and packing up. The storm had all but blown itself out and with hours of lost time to make up it was time to hit the trail.

  “I’ll get off now, Holly. If you’re sure you are okay?”

  Looking up from packing her sleigh, Holly frowned.

  “Why shouldn’t I be okay?”

  Zachariah sighed. “No reason, I was just looking out for you that was all, making sure you’re not worried about anything and that you’ve got all you need.”

  Rising to her feet Holly stared at him. The conceit of the man, did he think she was an imbecile or something? “I need nothing, especially from you, Zachariah. And my welfare is no concern of yours. So whilst I thank you for last night, please don’t give me another thought, because I certainly won’t be thinking about you.”

  Cupping her cheek, Zachariah lifted her face and gazed into her eyes.

  “You sure about that, Holly?” he whispered. Bending his head and quickly finding her lips with his kissed her, forcefully, masterfully, and completely and utterly satisfactorily.

  Stiffening in his embrace Holly made to pull away, but the insistent caress of his mouth had her eyes closing and her heartbeat racing. Leaning further in, she pushed her breasts up against his chest. The feel of his mouth, the touch of his hands and the sound of his breathing became sensually erotic and she pressed even closer. The sensations he was stirring up were messing with her equilibrium, and she desperately wanted more. She wanted to feel his naked skin touching hers, wanted to feel the pound of his heart against the softness of her breasts and wanted him—her eyes sprung open. Oh god, yes! She wanted him inside her, possessing her, making her his.

  Suddenly she was free, her grasping hands clutching at open air. Closing her mouth with a snap she stared at him in bewilderment.

  “That was just something for you to think about, Holly.” Zachariah touched his hood in farewell and stepping onto the runners of his sleigh called “mush,” and she was left staring confusedly at his receding back.

  Chapter Five

  Minutes later Holly was following in the wake of Zachariah, speeding across the snow in attempt to make up lost time. Her next port of call was Skwenta, where she would barely touch base, just long enough to check in before she headed toward Finger Lake. Her plan had been to have a short rest and something to eat at Skwenta but after the unexpected stop of last night she needed to get cracking. The runners of her sleigh glided smoothly over the snow, her dogs were in good form and appeared to enjoy the exercise, pulling the weight with expertise and consummate ease. Her cold breath misting the air, Holly looked around, feeling enough at ease to take her eyes off the trail and her dogs. The scenery was spectacular, the snow-laden trees, the far-off mountains and the endless stretch of white had a beauty she found hard to define, a timeless beauty that made her feel as if she were completely alone in the world. Moving her in a raw, primal way, making her feel as if no one existed but her, as if the world had been born again, pure, unsullied, and wholesome. Smiling at her poetic notions she switched her attention back to the team.

  * * * *

  Making a quick stop at Skwenta to feed her dogs, check in at Joe’s log cabin and to replenish the provisions she’d had shipped out before the start of the race Holly pressed on. Joe had been the postmaster at Skwenta and an Iditarod checker for years before his retirement in 1997, but his cabin was still used as a checkpoint.”

  Now approaching Finger Lake Holly was beginning to feel tired but she had to admit that the trail hadn’t been as bad as she’d imagined, and while determined to press on, the sight of Finger Lake on the horizon tested her good intentions.

  Evaluating the situation she came up with a number of reasons for st
opping. The weather was unexpectedly awful, she was exhausted, and there was no way she’d win the race, wouldn’t even be in the running, or be anywhere near the top sixty even, so what was the point in killing herself? Making up her mind she came to a decision that the best thing to do after all was to get a couple of hours sleep.

  Concentrating intensely she swung her team around some trees and began the run into Finger Lake.

  * * * *

  Zachariah sipped his hot drink and looked at the night sky. The stars were noticeable by their absence, the dark of the sky had a gray, misty sheen reminiscent of gray gossamer and the cold struck like a knife through the thick padding of his coat. His dogs had been fed and supplies replenished. A moment’s indecision and then he was stopping that bit longer for a quick cheeseburger. Usually he careened through Finger Lake at a rate of knots, but he wanted to find out the whereabouts of Holly. Although—he smiled wryly—she wouldn’t thank him for his concern.

  Tucking into his burger Zachariah stared out of the window as another musher drew up. Half rising from his seat, he relaxed back into the chair when he realized it wasn’t Holly. Finishing his meal, he pulled up the hood of his parka and hurried out into the night. He had no more time to spare, Holly obviously was running slow and wouldn’t be arriving anytime soon and, although concerned, he needed to get on.

  “Line out!” he shouted, waiting as his dogs, obedient to his command, pulled forward enabling him to hook them properly into line.

  Looking up as another team pulled in, he stopped what he was doing and strolled casually across to the musher.

  “Holly, I see you made it then.”