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Chapter 40
The two new sleds, sitting side by side in Mark's shop, were starting to take shape by the middle of the week. There was going to be a lot of work to do, but it was going fast. While Mike may not have been much of a help with a hammer, there wasn't a lot of hammer
work to be done, and his fingers, nimble from years of pounding on a keyboard, proved to be nimble at threading, lashing and tying the wet rawhide. Both of them knew that when the rawhide dried out, it would shrink, making for very tight lashings on the sleds, still smelling
sweetly of ash.
Working out a way to make the stanchions fasten to the runners had been the tough part, even with the example of Horton's sled to follow. When that had been worked out, everything came together more quickly than Mike would have imagined. There were only
another few pieces that had to be steam bent for the sled, like the brush bows at the front, and the upper railings. These went more quickly than the runners; Mark heated each one, one at a time, in a pipe filled with water, standing more or less upright in a bench vise, with a
welding torch supplying the heat. Pretty soon, though far from done, the dog sleds were beginning to look like dog sleds. Once everything dried out, there was clearly going to be a lot of varnishing to be done, but the sleds were coming out very pretty, like works of art.
"We're going to have to get some dogs," Mike commented one evening as the two men worked on the dog sleds. "It'd be a shame to have sleds as nice as these, and not get to use them."
"Well, maybe the pound will have something in by this weekend," Mark said. "If not, I suppose we can head down to the pound at Coldwater, or something. But, we don't have to be in any real big rush."
"I suppose not," Mike said. "But I'm getting kind of anxious to give this a whirl."
"Me, too," Mark admitted.
Jackie had seen the two sleds sitting side by side, of course, and she knew very well what they meant. The guys were definitely going to go through with this, and two sleds meant two teams. Of course, she told Kirsten about the two sleds, one evening while she was
down at Kirsten's soaking in the hot tub while the guys messed with wet rawhide. Kirsten pretty well understood what it meant, too, but her main comment was, "Boys will be boys."
"It's keeping them out of trouble, this week," Jackie said. "But what happens after that?"
When Saturday morning rolled around, Mike, Mark, and Cumulus were again heading down to the Humane Society. Cumulus seemed a little more confident, this morning, but his tail was still between his legs when they pulled into the parking lot. He seemed relieved to
be left in the truck while the men went inside, but watched out the window, anxiously.
"I figured you guys would be in this morning," the manager said. "Got a couple dogs I been saving for you." He led Mark and Mike out into the back, where a number of dogs were in cages. It was hard for Mike, especially; there were a number of good-looking dogs
there, if not the sort of thing for a dog team. "This dog was brought in a couple days ago," the manager said. "Seems like a friendly dog, pretty low-key. He's a stray the dog truck brought in, no collar or anything."
The dog was a little larger than they had been looking for, taller and heavier than Cumulus, but not out of line. He wagged his tail at them. The two looked the dog over carefully; he obviously had some shepherd in him, but was almost coal black. "Maybe some lab in
there," Mike commented.
"He might do," Mark agreed. "What about the other dog?"
"This one was left with us," the manager said. "Guy and his wife split up, and there was no room for the dog."
This dog seemed happy to see Mark and Mike, too. He was a smaller dog, closer to Cumulus' size. He had a fairly heavy coat, reddish and dark, and looked to have possibilities as a sled dog. "The guy that brought him in said there was some shepherd in him, and some
Irish setter," the pound manager said.
"They both look good to me," Mark agreed. "We'll have to see what Cumulus thinks. What do you think, Mike?"
Mike hadn't been looking at the reddish dog, for a lone, forlorn puppy in a cage had caught his attention. "Hey, you look like a good dog," he said.
The puppy perked up, and came over to the edge of the cage, his tail wagging. Mike looked into the dog's eyes, and the dog sort of smiled back. He couldn't help himself; he unlatched the cage, reached in, and gave the dog a little pet. The gray and white puppy, still in
the fuzzball stage, licked his hand, and rolled over to have his belly scratched.
"That dog grows up, he'd be about what you're looking for. He's the runt of a litter, and he'd half malemute and half shepherd. Something kind of went bump in the night, and the family managed to get rid of the rest of the dogs. Their kids did not want to give this little
fellow up, though. Unfortunately, he's been here a while," the kennel manager said, not finishing the thought, leaving the conclusion up to Mike.
"Looks like a nice dog," Mike said, not quite surrendering to the inevitable. "But we're really looking for more than puppies. Back to your cage, little fella." He had a hard time getting the puppy to disentangle himself from his arms, and get the cage latched again.
"Let's go see how Cumulus gets along with these two."
They took the older dogs out to Cumulus, one at a time. There was a lot of eyeball to eyeball dog talk, and sniffing at hindquarters, and a couple of low-key growls to establish relationships, but no real show of violence. "I think we might have something here," Mark
said, bringing a couple of collars out of the truck. The reddish dog was the second one he checked out, and he put a collar on him, and took him around to the back of the truck. "Up you go, Red," he said, and the dog leaped up into the back of the truck. Mark secured him to a
corner of the truck bed by a neckline.
The other dog, the black one, had been taken back inside, to not get involved with the discussion between Cumulus and Red. Mark went back to the cage to get him, while Mike dealt with the paperwork with the kennel manager. It took a little longer than Mark
expected, so he went back out to the truck, to secure the dog in the opposite corner by another neckline.
He met Mike coming out of the pound. "Well, we got us some dogs," he said as the two went back to the truck.
"Yeah," Mike said, a little downcast. "We're off to a start."
They got in the truck. Cumulus was standing on the seat, looking out the back window, tail wagging. "Yes, Cumulus, we got you some playmates," Mark said, starting the truck.
"God damn it," Mike said, opening the door. "I'll be back in a minute."
It took closer to five before Mike was back, carrying the tail-wagging malemute puppy in his arms. "I knew you couldn't do it," Mark said.
"I tried," Mike said. "I really did, even though I knew I wasn't going to be leaving without him."
They got back out on the highway, with the puppy squirming in Mike's arms, Cumulus looking on with amusement. "The red one is obviously `Red'", Mark commented. "But I can think of half a dozen names for the black one. `Coal, Blackie, Midnight, Shadow,
Nigger, Umbra.' What do you think?"
"With you and that telescope, I think maybe Midnight," Mike said.
"How about that one?" Mark said.
"I'm not going to be the one to name him," Mike said.
Mark smiled. "I knew that, too."
As Mark drove down Busted Axle Road toward their houses, Mike said, "Why don't you just drop me off in front of my house, and I'll be back up to your place, later."
"Like shit," Mark said, driving past. "I want to see this, too."
They tied Midnight and Red out on necklines behind the barn -- at least Mark did; the puppy never left Mike's grasp. "We'll have to build them some doghouses, come up with a better arrangement this afternoon," Mark said. "But that shouldn't be a big deal."
Jackie came out of the shop, a little bemused, or perhaps perplexed, at the sight. "It begins to look like we're going to have a dog team," she said.
"Come on," Mark said. "You want to see this, too."
Mike and the puppy rode in the back, while Mark and Cumulus and Jackie rode in the front. It was only a quarter mile up to the house.
Mark and Jackie followed Mike up the back steps, and into the kitchen, where Kirsten stood, working on lunch. She saw what Mike was carrying, and shook her head, but said nothing. "Where's Tiffany?" Mike asked.
"In her room, watching TV," Kirsten said.
"Tiffany!" Mike called. "Come here!"
"Coming, daddy," they heard. In a second, she appeared, then stopped in her tracks at the sight, eyes aglow. Mike set the puppy down on the floor, and he scuttled across the floor to the girl, half sideways, tail wagging.
"Ohhh, Daddy!" she cried. "He's beautiful!"
