12 Naughty Days of Christmas 2018

by Isabella Kole

  The elderly couple were perched on folding chairs around the campfire, sipping mugs of either coffee or cocoa. A tin coffee pot sat near the heat, which probably held hot water for instant cocoa mix. Several other mushers lounged with them. She recognized all of them. Jim looked like he might have already run his dogs, his hair matted to his forehead, no jacket, and his bib snow pants unzipped. His three kids were antsy, pushing one another and throwing fistfuls of snow. They were too little to handle a fresh team, so Jim ran the dogs first. Then after a short rest, he’d let them take the dogs for a simple loop through the campground.

  A couple of teenagers were there – Lindsey and Allison. She didn’t remember which was Lindsey and which was Allison. They weren’t related, just good friends, but she only ever saw them together. They were pretty good athletes; they’d even run the Jack Pine 30 with her, a thirty mile race up by Marquette.

  “Morning, Kelly,” Cara called, raising her mug in greeting. “Get yourself some cocoa and join us.”

  “Not yet,” she said. “Dogs are crazy for a run first. But I sprained my wrist, and I was wondering, Jim? Would you mind giving me a hand getting the sled down off my car?”

  “Sure,” the young father agreed. “You kids stay here,” he ordered the trio of little ones, who whined almost exactly like her dogs.

  Kelly grinned, shaking her head.

  Jim not only helped her get the sled down, but to hook up the ganglines, the snow hook, and set the tie out, which would secure her sled to a tree if the team decided to bolt before she was ready. Then he had her stand on her brake while he hooked up the dogs to the ganglines for her. She could do it alone, but it was a lot easier with another set of hands. Finally, when all were connected, except Blue who was waiting right beside her, Jim guided the lead dogs the short distance to the trailhead. Kelly’s job was to ride the brake, holding the team back so they didn’t tangle the ganglines or run over Jim. Then, after a nod for Jim to let him know she was ready, he released the leads and she called, “Hike! Hike!”

  At once, the dogs took off. She gripped the sled, bent her knees and rode low. The beginning of the trail was sloppy, even muddy. She had to kick the ground with one foot, keeping the other on the runners, a process referred to as “pedaling” although it was more like riding a scooter than a bike. After a hundred feet or so, the trail smoothed out. Well-groomed snow lay thick in the woods. Waist-high signs marked whether the trail would turn left or right, so she could call the appropriate command to the team in time. “Gee” for a right turn, and “Haw” for a left. Only the lead dogs – the two in front – really knew the commands. The rest just wanted to run. And “Whoa!” was only a suggestion, as far as they were concerned.

  They were silent now. Although Siberian Huskies were known as the “talkers” of the dog world, with their expressive vocabulary of whines and yips, when it came time to mush, they made not a sound. The sled whisked noiselessly across the snow. Six sets of paws tore across the trail. Their tails were low, their ears laid back, showing that she had their undivided attention. If their ears perked up, then they might have spotted a squirrel or a deer, and she would need to call them to get their head back in the run.

  When they came to a turn, she would lean with the sled, and often have to push with one foot. Sleds didn’t turn easily. On the downhills she could ride the runners. On an uphill, she would pedal if she wanted them to maintain their speed. Otherwise, they were capable of hauling her and the sled up any hill. Occasionally, they might want to veer off the trail onto one of the many snowmobile paths that crisscrossed through the woods, but it was best to keep them on the designated dog paths. Although most snowmobilers were polite and friendly, every now and then there’d be a real jerk who thought it was funny to frighten the dogs and aim his noisy machine straight at them. One guy had flicked his lit cigarette at Caesar, the left wheel dog, who licked at it and burned his tongue.

  Kelly drew in a deep breath, feeling the crisp morning air fill her lungs. This was what she’d needed. After four days of resting her wrist, she was about to go stark raving crazy. She smiled as she recognized the tap-tapping of a woodpecker and searched the trees until she spied it. The small tuft of red at the crown, and the distinctive white and black coloring made it a Downy Woodpecker. Further in the woods was a doe and her yearling fawns. They were pawing at the ground, probably searching for acorns beneath the snow. Her dogs ignored them, as a good mushing team should. They were far more interested in the pure joy of running than in chasing something right now. Although, if the deer had decided to bolt and crossed the trail in front of her, it might have been another story altogether.

  “On your left!” someone called out behind her.

  “Gee over,” she commanded her team, kicking the sled slightly to direct it away from the center of the trail.

  A skijorer zipped passed her on the left, running with three dogs. Skijoring was like mushing without a sled. Cross country skiers hooked their dogs to a gangline that attached right to their waist. Kelly had tried it once. It had been sort of fun, but also a little scary. Three dogs could drag a body a long way before they decided to stop.

  Her dogs gave a short burst of energy after the skijorer passed, almost as if they were chasing him. But then they settled in to their regular pace. They were running too fast for her to pedal. She just rode the runners unless they came to a sharp turn or hill.

  They completed the seven mile loop and went out again for the three mile. The dogs ran a little slower then, their tails held high. Their tongues lolled from their big doggy grins. If they were human, they’d be thumping shoulders now and telling whoppers. They were just having fun. She let them goof off for the first mile, but then called “Hike!” Their tails lowered and their ears went back, as they took off again, renewed by the short respite. They ran hard the last leg of the journey, which had some of the trickiest turns on the trail. She had to grip the handlebar with both hands, and at one point, she even had to stop the team before she ran headlong into a tree. Pulling the sled out of the deeper snow, she set it back on the trail and they ran the rest of the way back.

  There was quite a crowd around the campfire by then, other mushers who must have been on the trail in front of her, although she hadn’t seen or heard any of them. There were the usual sightseers, folks who’d heard about them and come to watch. They were easily spotted, as they weren’t wearing smart outdoor gear. Girls in puffy jackets but with just jeans on, or wearing pretty winter boots with zippers that would leave your feet wet and cold in ten minutes flat. Boys with no hats at all. Older people with their cameras. Mushers knew how to dress for winter. One of the sightseers was none other than Jonathan Steele.

  She waved cheerfully, but noticed that he wasn’t smiling. He was probably angry that she’d come out to run the dogs, but it wasn’t like she’d lied or anything. Her wrist had felt better that morning. – sort of. And she had rested! But dang it all, winter was too short, and the dogs needed it! She did too.

  Jim greeted her at the trailhead and helped her stake out the dogs, removing each harness as he went along. All were patted and praised, and then a small pail of water was offered. They wouldn’t drink much yet, as they were still too keyed up from the run. They barked and tugged at the stakeout, begging for attention. She went down the line again, offering them tiny bits of dog treats. Not enough to upset their stomach after a run, but just to let them know what good dogs they were.

  “That’s quite a production,” Jonathan said, nodding to the dogs.

  “Oh, they love it,” Kelly said with a too cheerful grin. “I do too.”

  “I know. I suspected I’d find you here, although I distinctly remember telling you to let that arm rest.”

  “I did. For four days. And it did feel better!”

  “We can talk about this later,” Jonathan said quietly.

  “No, we can talk about it never. They’re my dogs, and I did what I thought was best. Now, come and meet my friends. Want some cocoa?”<
br />
  Jonathan walked with her back to the campfire. He accepted a mug of cocoa from someone, and a mug of chili from someone else. He heard mushing stories, one after another, mostly about mishaps and injuries. No one talked about the perfect run. He heard how one musher got a concussion when her team ran her sled into a tree. Another broke an arm. Another got fourteen stitches breaking up a dog fight.

  “Aw, cut it out, guys,” Kelly said, interrupting Cara’s husband before he told the humdinger about how he frostbit his fingers and toes on a 200 mile run twenty years ago. “You’re scaring him. He’ll never get on a dog sled now.”

  Cara smiled. “They do love their fish stories,” she said to Jonathan. “Every year, the injuries get bigger and the facts get smaller. Dog sledding is no more dangerous than any other sport. Accidents happen, but most of the time, it’s just good fun.”

  “I’ll take you out, if you’ve got time,” Zeb, Cara’s husband, offered.

  “That’s okay,” Jonathan said, shrugging.

  “Good. Let me finish my chili and we’ll go out.”

  “You don’t have to—” Jonathan started, but Zeb liked to be hard of hearing when it suited him.

  “Once you’ve been bitten by the bug, you’ll never look at winter the same way. We mushers pray for snow, while our unenlightened neighbors complain about it. Life’s too short, you know? Why live in the north if you’re going to hate one quarter of the year? Or even a third, if winter lingers into spring.”

  While he chattered away, Jeb was busy hooking up his team to the ganglines, with half a dozen others helping, so that they were ready to go in a matter of minutes. Someone guided Jonathan to sit in the basket of the sled. Another handed him a wool blanket. “It can get cold when you’re just sitting there,” they explained. Two volunteers walked the lead dogs around the corner to the trailhead, and then they were off.

  Kelly heaved a sigh of relief. She sensed that she and Jonathan were going to have a fight when they got back, and she dreaded it. She’d had such a good time this week getting to know him, but if it came to a choice between him or the dogs, well, she wouldn’t see him again.

  Even so, her stomach felt tight, and the chili wasn’t sitting well. She took the hike through the woods to the outhouse, but even that didn’t help. She had been too warm, but now she tugged the zipper up, and tightened the scarf around her face. She’d dearly love a warm bath. And a nap. Mushing always made her sleepy. Something about the fresh air and exercise… That’s why she loved having the cocoa and company after a run. She was afraid that if she drove straight home, she’d be too sleepy behind the wheel.

  While waiting for Jonathan, she and Jim loaded her sled on top of the SUV and strapped it securely. She wasn’t going to take the dogs out for another loop. They might be ready, but she wasn’t. It would be best to get them back home, and have it out with Jonathan.

  Then everything seemed to happen at once. Zeb and Jonathan were coming back. She could see them, but they were still a couple hundred feet out. Most of the crowd around the campfire had dissipated – some on the trail, but some had left the park, there were fewer rigs in the campground. Only Cara and the two teenagers were still there when Kelly heard a painful yip that sounded a lot like Blue. She tore off towards her campsite, even as the sounds of growling and snarling split the air, accompanied by more submissive whines of the injured dog.

  Her blood froze when she got there, and for a moment, she couldn’t move. A big black beast of a dog was attacking old Blue. Her team was barking furiously, trying to break free from their snap lines – whether to defend Blue or just join in the fight, she couldn’t know. There was only one way to break up a fight, and that was to be a bigger, meaner dog. She searched quickly for a thick stick, then brandished it at the black dog, growling fiercely. “Go!” she screamed. “Go away!” She swung the stick at the dog’s snout. He turned then and bit her, clamping his powerful jaws around her sprained wrist. Pain shot up her arm and adrenaline poured through her system. Even flat on her back with the dog on top of her, she was still growling and yelling at him. She clenched her right hand into a fist and rammed it into the dog’s mouth as far as she could.

  That bought her time. By then Jonathan was there, as were the teens, and Zeb and Cara and a few others. A basket muzzle was snapped onto the stray dog, and a leash, and he was tied to a tree. Jonathan didn’t help her up, but instead made her lie in the snow while he checked her out.

  “I didn’t hurt my head,” she insisted, struggling to sit up. “Blue, how are you? How’s my dog? Is he okay?”

  Cara helped Kelly to the picnic table, easing her out of her ruined jacket. The stray’s powerful jaws had ripped through every layer – the jacket, the sweatshirt, the silk undershirt, even the ace bandage, to tear through skin. She had three deep purple bruises and one small jagged cut that might require a stitch or two. Jonathan rinsed the wound with bottled water, then wrapped it with sterile gauze from someone’s first aid kit.

  “I think the dog fared better than you, Kelly-girl,” Zeb said. “He’s got a few shallow bites. I can give him a shot of penicillin, if you’d like.”

  Kelly nodded. Mushers did a lot of their own pet care. She had learned how to give her pack all their vaccines, except for rabies, which was regulated by the state. Zeb gave the antibiotic to Blue, while Jonathan used the remainder of the bottled water to cleanse the dog’s wounds.

  “I wonder whose dog it is,” Kelly said. Her teeth were starting to chatter, maybe more from the adrenaline than the cold, although without her jacket on she was definitely feeling the chill.

  “That dog is a menace,” Jonathan hissed. “Someone should take him to the pound to be put down.”

  “Nonsense,” Zeb said. “No such thing as a bad dog, only bad owners.”

  “We’ll see to the dog,” Cara said, helping Kelly into the passenger seat of her car. “You need to take her in to get that looked at.”

  Jonathan jingled his car keys, looking between his BMW and Kelly’s SUV. Of course he’d have to drive her car, but how was he going to get his back?

  “I can take care of that for you, son,” Zeb offered. “I’ll drop it off at Kelly’s place.”

  He passed the keys to the older man. “Thanks.”

  Chapter 3

  “Don’t say it,” Kelly said through clenched teeth. The adrenaline rush had worn off, and now she was in too much pain to be civil. She was cold, tired, cranky, and maybe even itching for a fight.

  Jonathan glanced at her, then returned his focus to the rutted path euphemistically referred to as a road. “Say what?” he asked.

  “Say ‘I told you so,’” she warned.

  Jonathan chuckled, then shook his head. “Sorry, I know you didn’t mean to be funny. There’s nothing funny about this. But I never told you not to get bit by a stray dog, did I?”

  His pleasant manner deflated the irritation she had felt building inside. “No, I guess you didn’t.”

  “I did remember warning you to rest your wrist until it had healed, but even so, that couldn’t have prevented you from a dog attack. But why would anyone rush towards a dog fight? Anyone with a lick of sense would have run the other way.”

  “I had to protect my dog!”

  “Isn’t it your dog’s job to protect you?”

  “Don’t be silly. I’m their pack leader. I’m the one they look to. I have to be, in order for them to listen to me when we’re out on the trail. And the alpha dog is the protector. My dogs were tied up, for heaven’s sake! What could they do, if he’d gone after any one of them? And Blue is twelve years old. In dog years, he’s ancient. Huskies only live ten to twelve years.”

  “I don’t know,” Jonathan continued. “All the dogs in the movies are heroes. Lassie, Balto, Old Yeller—”

  “You don’t know much about dogs, do you?”

  He turned left out of the park onto the highway. “I always wanted a dog,” he said thoughtfully. “But my parents were divorced. Both worked fulltim
e, and felt it would be unfair to the dog to spend so much time alone.”

  “Well, when one dog attacks another, usually the scuffle is brief. One dog asserts himself as more dominant, and the other dog, if he’s smart, will go limp and submissive. Having made his point, the aggressor usually backs off and it’s all over within a matter of seconds. But Blue was being submissive, and the other dog didn’t stop. He’s been badly trained, and doesn’t know how to be a dog.”

  “So why did you shove your hand in his mouth? That was the craziest thing I’ve ever seen.”

  “The best way to survive a dog attack is to avoid one. But if you can’t, then you make your hand into a fist and shove it deep into their mouth. It has to be really deep, so they can’t close their jaws, or you’ll get a really nasty bite. I’ve heard about it, but I’ve never had to do it before,” Kelly said. She shivered again.

  Jonathan scanned the controls and found the one to crank up the heat. He kept the conversation going, light and casual, although Kelly sensed it wasn’t what he really wanted to talk about. He mentioned the weather – always an inane topic of conversation – and how much he’d enjoyed the dog sled ride, and wasn’t that Zeb a character?

  Kelly leaned her head back against the seat and closed her eyes. When she woke up a few minutes later, Jonathan was parking outside the Emergency Room. She let him come around to open the door for her, and help her out of the car. Then he walked her past the receptionist and right into a cubicle in the back. Maybe dating a doctor had its perks? He scrubbed up at the sink, calling orders to the nurse who had joined them. Before long, something was shot into her arm to numb it, and Jonathan was stitching it up. Two neat little stitches. The whole visit had a surreal quality to it. She was so tired, she barely remembered anything. All she wanted was a hot bath and a nap. She was so cold.