As if she can read my mind, she laments, “He didn’t eat much earlier.” She throws a flat look toward her sable-colored lead dog, who waits eagerly, his tail swishing. The other dogs are curled up on their straw beds but watching their musher intently.
I offer her a sympathetic smile. “At least he looks hungry now.” Otherwise, as a veterinarian, I’d be concerned.
“You gave him too many snacks on the way in!” Harry calls out behind me, appearing from the shadows. His boots crunch in the snow, a hot coffee in hand. “Now you’re gonna have a tough time settling them down again if you don’t feed them all.”
At that moment, Harry sounds like Earl. But, unlike Harry, Earl knew when not to share his wisdom.
Lynn shoots a glare his way before shifting back to her task. I’m sure she’s none too pleased to be schooled by a musher half her age.
I’m equally displeased. I didn’t want to deal with him yet. Why is he awake?
Harry, oblivious or not caring that his expertise is unwanted, shifts his attention to me. “Where were you last night when I rolled in? Didn’t they tell you I was coming?”
“I was catching some sleep.”
“Yeah, well, you’re my veterinarian. I expected you there for my dogs.” There’s no mistaking the displeasure in his tone.
“I’m here for all the dogs, as a volunteer, and I can’t do my job if I’m dead on my feet,” I snap, my anger flaring.
“Whoa.” Harry has the nerve to hold up a hand, to look taken aback by my reaction.
I inhale a deep breath to collect my composure. I’m hungry, and my patience is paper-thin. “What are you doing up? Couldn’t you sleep?”
“I slept okay, except Brady decided to get up and make a bunch of noise just as I was settling in.” His eyes wander past me to where Tyler’s sled and team are resting, and they narrow. “If I hadn’t gotten hung up in Ophir fixing my sled, that gold would’ve been mine.”
“That’s all part of racing, right?” It’s a complex chain of speed, timing, and intuition, all of which can be derailed by countless variables, some manageable and others impossible to predict.
“Still, you should have seen the smug look on his face when I checked in. He was waiting to accept the trophy until I could get here, just so I could see him do it.”
“He had to take care of his dogs first.” Though I can’t confirm that Tyler didn’t take his time doing it.
But Harry’s not listening. “He didn’t leave that far ahead of me. Had to be pushing those dogs hard. You should check them out, make sure they’re fit to race.”
“I did check them when they came in. They were all fine.”
“Well, you need to check again—”
“I did, just now, and they’re fine,” I say through gritted teeth. I know what he’s doing. “How about I leave the racing stuff to you, and you leave the vet stuff to me, ’kay?” I throw the words he said to me in Rohn back in his face.
He works a retort around in his smarmy mouth, but when he meets my challenging glare, he seems to think better of it.
“I’m going to grab a bite—”
“Man, that last stretch coming in here last night was rough,” he cuts in, taking a sip of his coffee. “There were a bunch of markers missing.”
At least he’s attempting a normal conversation. “It happens. Those things aren’t permanently affixed to the ground.” It’s a monumental task every year to set some twelve thousand fluorescent-orange-tipped lath markers so the mushers don’t get lost, especially if caught in a blizzard. “You told the crew so they can go out and fix them, right?”
“Yeah, yeah, of course. And sounds like people made it through fine.” He pauses in thought. “Skip said they were down when he went through, too. Makes ya think, doesn’t it?” He glances in Tyler’s direction again. “It’s like someone kicked them over.”
There’s only one “someone” that could be.
I realize which angle Harry’s working, and my disgust swells. Not only is he arrogant enough to think he can manipulate me like this but it’s beyond poor sportsmanship. “So, first, you accuse him of pushing his dogs too hard to get here ahead of you, and now you’re saying he took time out of racing to sabotage you? A guy who went out of his way and put himself in danger to help Larry Reese in the gorge? Who stayed with him the whole way to make sure he made it in?” That story is circulating through all the checkpoints, earning Tyler prominence among both volunteers and mushers. “Harry, if you start going around accusing him of things without any proof, it’s going to look bad, and not on him. On you.”