On the way down to Golovin Bay, Holly kept tight control of her team and leaned heavily on the brake. This was one time when it paid to go slowly. The trail was treacherous and Holly’s nerves were frayed to pieces long before they reached the bottom of the valley. Icy spots, steep slopes, rough areas and a high wind in her face made up this part of the route. Feeling cold, wet and her fingers aching from holding tightly onto the handlebar, they finally reached the cabin. It was here Zachariah made her day by deciding a short break was necessary.
Holly’s hands thankfully closed over the mug of tea Zachariah handed her, and if he noticed the uncontrollable trembling of her fingers he made no mention.
Sheltering out of the wind she sat morosely huddled by the stove sipping her hot, sweet tea until the trembling stopped. She wanted to cry and realized this was just a form of release, a recovery from the stress and fear of the journey. But, all too soon, Zachariah indicated it was time to leave and with a certain amount of ill humor she complied, pulling on gloves and buttoning her coat. Zachariah surprised her by suddenly catching hold of her hand as she climbed on the runners came as a surprise as did his short, hard kiss.
The journey continued and finally they were speeding up the main road to the checkpoint. There wasn’t much in the way of comforts at this checkpoint, although, Holly understood that mushers were allowed to stay a while and visit with the villagers, but as to anything else…
Next stop, White Mountain and happily the next eight-hour mandatory stop.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Leaving Golovin, they stayed on the ice, much to Holly’s distress. How she hated ice! Dawn was breaking and Zachariah headed his team straight toward the flashing White Mountain Airport Signal. The trail was well marked with the endless distinctive green Iditarod trail stakes, which to some degree made things slightly easier. The going was flat and straight and luckily there didn’t seem to be any obvious obstacles in the path and Holly began to relax. Eventually crossing the Fish River delta, a landform at the mouth of the river, Holly realized that fortunately they were soon to be back on dry land and wanted to send up a cheer of thankfulness. Anything was better than ice in her opinion, except maybe mountains, rivers, and swamps.
The trail to Fish River itself was winding with a lot of high ridges and low valleys, but was comparatively easy. Once they were on the river they were flanked by woodland banks, home to numerous shrubs and herbaceous plants on the right and on the left, dense forest ridges, making Holly feel a little claustrophobic as the trees stretched high like silent sentinels. A couple of miles on and they swung the teams around to the right, and soon after that the town came into sight. Presently they were being met by a checker who escorted them to the parking area where they checked in.
The dogs were soon settled on the riverbank below town where they were protected from the elements. It was with a sense of relief that Holly followed Zachariah to the city hall which also acted as the library and the armory. Inside there was a kitchen with plenty of food, and with her insides growling, she and Zachariah cooked a good wholesome meal of ham and eggs with great wedges of bread and butter before throwing their sleeping bag on the ground and crawling in. Her last waking thought before sleep claimed her was, eight hours of rest. Bliss!
* * * *
Slowly coming to, Holly became aware of the sounds around her, snoring, murmuring and snuffling, the sounds of other mushers taking a much needed rest. Lifting her arm she peered a trifle myopically at her watch. She’d been asleep for five hours. Groaning silently she turned on her side and came face to face with Zachariah, equally as awake as she was. He grinned in that disarming way he had, showing his even white teeth and softening his features.
“Hello.”
Holly smiled in response. “Hi,” she croaked, drinking in his manly beauty.
They gazed at each other, neither of them saying another word, until someone tripping over the bottom of Zachariah’s sleeping bag broke the contact. Sitting up Zachariah rubbed at his chin and slanted another wicked look toward Holly. Leaning over he grasped her face and gave her a quick hard kiss. “I think I need a wash and a shave before we set off.”
“I agree.” She rubbed at her face where his stubble had grazed the tender skin.
An hour later, the dogs’ welfare was dealt with. Holly and Zachariah made their way back to city hall. A wash, some breakfast, and then they would be on their way. Next stop, Safety!
Leaving White Mountain on the Fish River, Holly’s thoughts returned to the checkpoint. It was odd they hadn’t run into Astrid at one or other of the checkpoints. She was in some respects larger than life and so was noticeable by her absence. Holly didn’t really want to see her or even care what had happened to her. Astrid was, after all, a survivor. But it was just strange she hadn’t been around dropping caustic comments and throwing herself at Zachariah. Her thoughts coming to an abrupt end as her sled slewed to one side had Holly maligning herself for not concentrating on the job at hand. Knowing that this leg of the journey could be dangerous and full of unforeseen risks should have been enough for her to keep her mind on the trail and not on Zachariah and his love life.
A blizzard had blown up ostensibly out of nowhere and was reducing visibility to almost nothing. Holly peered through her goggles and was only able to make out the first four dogs in her team, the leads and Zachariah were beyond her range of sight. Not being able to see clearly was scary, the wind and driving snow giving her an almost eerie feeling, sending cold shivers running up and down her spine. Laughing shakily at her folly in scaring herself silly, she attempted to focus her thoughts. “Concentrate on the trail, concentrate on the trail,” she recited hypnotically to herself. Relying heavily on her dogs to follow Zachariah, Holly felt almost redundant as she just held tightly onto the handlebar.
For Zachariah out in front the weather was troublesome. With poor visibility the trail was even more dangerous than he anticipated. The dogs, although sure of foot, had some remarkably difficult terrain to travel and he was relying heavily on their instincts. Holly, he knew, was trailing somewhere behind and heaven knows what she was feeling or going through. The journey had been demanding for her, notwithstanding the fact that it had only been a short time since she had lost her father. He knew she was still trying to prove to him in some bizarre way that she was as good as the son he’d never had. However, the Iditarod had been more of a learning curve for her, a chance to stand on her own two feet, to do something adventurous that tested her courage, and in that, he had to admit she had succeeded. But whilst she had been undergoing these amazing changes, so had he. He’d learnt from her, something he’d never sought or wanted again. He’d learned to love again, learned that there was someone more important to him than himself, and learned that through courage came respect, and that made him love her all the more.
Sometime later, and after crossing a couple of streams, Holly began to notice a discernable change in the weather. The wind appeared to be easing and visibility had improved, and she was now able to see her whole team, including the two lead dogs. Presently they would be approaching Kiokerblok River and after that the trail would lead them across part of the Topkok River.
Holly held onto the handlebar with one hand and the brake with the other. Another climb was in front of her and she needed as much control as she was able. The goal a four-hundred-foot saddle, which was, she remembered, the peak of a mountain shaped if you looked at it from a distance, like a saddle. Upon reaching the top, the descent to the beach would then begin, and in all honesty she would be glad to see the back of the mountains, as she was heartily sick of going up and down, and up and down. The view of course was spectacular, as on all mountains, but it was the altitude that held the most fear for her, the attitude and of course the possibility of certain death. She sniggered a trifle hysterically. Certain death, certain death, I’ll soon be plunging to certain death, she recited in her head over and over again.
Holly was feeling euphoric. The rise and d
escent of the mountain had been achieved without mishap and without her screaming her head off. Proud of her achievement, she grinned inanely at everything Zachariah said to her, which on more than one occasion earned her a hard, searching stare. Night was fast approaching. And Zachariah upon reaching the Nome Shelter Cabin made the decision to stop for a break. Breaking out the supplies, Zachariah bent to the task of boiling water for tea and kept up a desultory conversation to which Holly answered overenthusiastically, chatting animatedly and throwing her arms around. Suddenly she convulsed in laughter, spilling her tea in the process. Cackling wildly, she laughed until tears ran down her cheeks. Mystified, Zachariah looked around, wondering what had set her off to such a degree. Finding nothing to laugh about, he stared intensely at her, noting her high color and wildly sparkling eyes. Pulling her to her feet he gave her a gentle shake.
“What is it, Holly?”
“Nothing, nothing.” She gulped, trying to find a modicum of sanity. “It’s just that everything suddenly seems awfully funny at the moment, especially that dancing squirrel.” She pointed to the chimney pot on the roof of the cabin before breaking down again.
“Stop it, Holly.” Zachariah shook her again, harder this time. “You’re becoming hysterical. There is no squirrel, you’re suffering from hallucinations brought on by exhaustion.”
Holly stopped laughing as suddenly as she’d started, and began to cry, great gulping sobs that caught in her throat and hiccupped in her chest.
* * * *
Leaving Holly sitting sniveling on a log, Zachariah saw to the dogs’ needs and, after unpacking some supplies, he then turned his attention back to her. Handing her some trail mix, he ordered her to eat whilst he made a more substantial meal and readied the sleeping bag. The stove was lighted and was beginning to take the chill out of the air in the cabin. He placed a groundsheet on the floor and laid the sleeping bag on the top. Serving up the thick porridge he gently persuaded her to eat.
Porridge eaten, Zachariah removed Holly’s coat and boots and, urging her into the sleeping bag, followed suit. Pulling her close he whispered to her that it was safe for her to close her eyes and go to sleep. Obedient to his soothing words she did as he suggested, and as exhaustion fought with euphoria, she stirred restlessly until exhaustion won and she slipped into a deep, restful slumber.
* * * *
Sunup arrived with the falling of more snow, and Zachariah crept around the cabin, heating water for coffee and the dogs’ mash. He would have to wake Holly shortly, but she’d had a good few hours’ sleep and so should be feeling more like her old self once more. Making up an instant porridge he moved over to the sleeping bag and gently shook her shoulder. She murmured, caught between sleep and wakefulness. Bending over he studied her sweet little face. She was quite beautiful this woman of his, beautiful inside and out, and little did she know, but he loved every inch of her. Leaning down he bestowed a kiss on her soft lips and her eyelashes began wildly fluttering like butterflies caught in a net.
“’Ello.” She smiled up at him.
“The princess is woken with a kiss,” he murmured, smiling into her eyes as he bent forward and repeated the action. “Time to rise and shine, sun’s up.”
Holly’s smile faded as she remembered her behavior of the previous evening. God, what on earth had gotten into her?
Noticing her frown, Zachariah grinned, apparently knowing what she was thinking.
“Don’t sweat it, Holly, you were suffering from hallucinations brought on by exhaustion. Food and a good night’s sleep and you’re as right as rain again.”
“Err, I didn’t, err, didn’t do anything—inappropriate did I?”
A laugh burst from Zachariah. “No,” he replied dryly. “No, you did nothing untoward, Holly.”
The next part of the trail was in the open, the wind was still high, around eighty miles an hour, and the snow was falling heavily. The wind in her face felt icy and Holly was counting the hours until they reached Safety. At length the Bonanza Ferry Bridge came into sight, indicating that there was only twelve miles left until the checkpoint. Holly’s spirits lifted and her heart was gladdened by the thought that it wouldn’t be long before the race was finally over. However, this heartening thought was diminished by the feeling that once in Nome she probably would never see Zachariah again.
* * * *
The last twelve miles seemed to take forever. Snow had drifted into steep banks and there was also ice which the sun bounced off, causing glare. The winds hadn’t died down at all and every mile seemed to be an exercise in caution. But finally, there it was, Safety’s bridge. Bypassing the bridge, she saw on the left a warehouse type of building and Holly could have cheered with joy. This was the checkpoint in Safety and the last, the very last checkpoint before Nome and the end of the race.
Checking in, they met up with other mushers that were trailing as far behind as they were and amid much excitement they picked up their bibs. The bibs were bright yellow and indicated what their starting number had been at the beginning of the race. Then, wasting no more time, the dogs were fed a much needed snack and, stepping back on the runners, they rejoined the trail once again. Next stop, Nome!
Chapter Twenty-Nine
The trail from Safety began on the Nome-to-Council road and was not ploughed, so the going was slightly rough. The wind was still blowing but fortunately this time it was behind them. The road had its own share of hazards, what with ditches and the like left over from road works. A bit further on the road began to climb toward Cape Nome. Holly shook her head in despair, another climb even on the last stretch it was all a bit too much. In the distance she could see a small herd of wild oxen and she prayed that they would keep their distance and stay well away from the trail.
Continuing the four-hundred-foot climb up to the dip between Cape Nome and Reindeer Hill, Holly’s mind fixated on the end of the race and that hot bubble bath she’d promised herself. Absently she wondered just what plans, if any, Zachariah had made?
“Probably none that involves me,” she muttered, feeling slightly peeved at his lack of interest. Time passed and with each mile traversed Holly grew more and more impatient to reach Nome. However, eventually the saddle between the hills was reached and the sight from there was magnificent. She could see for miles and miles, endless stretches of countryside covered in a blanket of pure, white snow. The trees, there were but few, looked as if they’d exploded out of the ground like rockets out of a silo, aiming straight and majestically upward.
Descending the mountain was a different bag of tricks altogether and Holly began peddling whilst leaning heavily on the brake. An accident on this last stretch would be just too much to bear. Descent achieved, Zachariah began following the road toward the beach and she could see KNOM Radio spotter car in the distance. She grimaced. This was when all mushers got their moment of fame as they got the media’s attention.
Continuing on the same stretch for a further four to five miles, Zachariah then led the way inland to cross the road a couple of times before heading once again to the shore.
Just south of the road bridge they began to dip down in order to cross the Nome River. This created a certain amount of excitement in Holly because this dip indicated they were just three miles from the arch. The Burled Arch was the iconic Iditarod finish line. Once past the river they were soon at Fort Davis Roadhouse. Here Zachariah began to pick up speed and soon she was racing after him, accompanied by several other teams intent on getting to the finish before them. The enthusiasm was infectious and even Holly joined in the battle to the finish line. The dogs, sensing the excitement, appeared to be grinning and amidst excited yaps and barks they pulled as they had never pulled before.
Luckily on the run down the main street there was snow which made the going easier. Following closely behind Zachariah, Holly pulled in behind him in the Fenced-in-Shute for the last hundred yards or so, but stopped her team as Zachariah passed under the arch. Smiling widely she heard the wild shouts of cong
ratulations and stupidly felt the urge to cry, a combination of success, exhaustion, and just plain old pride, she reckoned. Waiting anxiously as the checkers inventoried her sled, she gave a pleased smile of relief as she was passed through. And it was at that moment Holly finally realized—she’d done it!
Zachariah was there at the end waiting for her and laughing happily he swung her up in his arms and twirled her around. Kissing her hard on the mouth he gazed into her tired but sparkling eyes. “How does it feel to no longer be a rookie?”
Laughing up at him, Holly wanted to say plenty, but instead satisfied him with a just one word…“Fantastic!”
Releasing her, he urged her back on the runners of her sled. “We’ve one more run, Holly, that to the dog lot. We’ve our teams to bed down.”
Nodding, Holly followed him to the west end of Front Street. Here a volunteer offered to take care of their dogs but Zachariah would hear none of it, he wanted to settle them himself.
Feeding and watering took priority as did the bedding situation, but then they took extra time to fondle ears and pat heads. They were loyal dogs and deserved the best of attention. Tomahawk, the injured dog that had travelled most of the way in the basket, was examined by the vet and thankfully given a clean bill of health. The dogs settled to their satisfaction. Zachariah and Holly, as the last musher wove his way to the end, made their way back to the finish line. It was here the last musher was handed the Red Lantern which was an award for being the last one to finish the race. It was then his task to carry it to the Burled Arch. There the closing ceremony took place. The ceremony completed, the musher signaled the end of the Iditarod for another year by going over to the Widows Lamp, which is a lantern that had been burning since the start of the race, and extinguishing its flame, so confirming the last musher and team were safely home, an action that brought unexpected tears to Holly’s somewhat tender, romantic heart. Then noise erupted all around them, and amid wild cheering and clapping, the mushers, volunteers, and officials alike all congratulated themselves, each other, and the God Almighty.
Sleigh Ride to Love Page 16
