8:30 A.M., so unless a telegraph came in, there was nothing for him to do.
The sun came up at 10:45 A.M. behind clouds, and at 2:55 P.M. the sun went down; and at the same time as the sun set, the Nome Mail Team came over the hill east.
Kodi stood at the lead of the team, his chest heaving in and out with exhaustion. He tried his best to breath slow, for his lungs hurt like fire when the cold clogged air entered to fast, and a trail of blood leading from the corner of his mouth down his icy chest, showed the extent of the pain and the damage done to his throat and lungs. Slowly coming to a stop, Kodi stood in almost dumbfound amazement that the town was in front of him. In some way, Kodi thought he wouldn’t ever find Nome again.
The previous two days had been a nightmare for Kodi. It mainly came because of Kodi’s absent mindedness. All his thoughts were on Dusty, and how he could make it up to her, and how he could get her back to being just a friend. Thoughts idea’s and plans to do this consumed Kodi so much, that every few minutes, something went wrong.
It started shortly after leaving Nome. Kodi took a wrong trail somewhere and began to climb unsteadily up through rocky canyons. Eventually coming out on a mountain plateau where wind bored straight through Kodi’s fur. About the time that the team moved around the peak of the mountain, the comments began to start. They started low and behind Kodi, secret whispers from Kirby and Ralph, angry mutters to one another. Kodi had expected Dusty to join them, but he never once heard her speak.
After the tall mountain, Kodi thought he found a trail down. The first trail led him to the face of a cliff, at which point he turned around and found another trail. This one didn’t end at a cliff, but it did have a steep drop down an icy gorge that caused every line, leather strap, and harness to get horribly tangled in a mess at the bottom. Everything was so tangled that Mr. Simpson had to take every dog out of the wreckage and tie them to a separate tree, then re-harness every dog one by one.
At White Mountain they rested in a brown barn near the outskirts of town – the normal place they usually rested for the night. That night Kodi slept separate of his friends in some hay near the door, the feeling that his friends hated and distrusted him running through his mind as he slipped into sleep. In the middle of the night he woke to whispers, but not to him. His friends, Kirby, Ralph, Fell, Kip, and Dusty, all sat around in a little circle whispering to one another. Kodi tried not to let it bother him as he rolled over and pressed his ears into the hay, though he was sure all the talk was about him.
Early in the morning Mr. Simpson harnessed them up to the sled with two new bags of mail, and they set out to Nome. Kodi tried to concentrate on the trail, but the trail became boring, and his mind came back to Dusty. For a long while the perfect plan formed in his head, the best, most absolute perfect plan to get Dusty to drop the grudge. About that time that he was nearing the end of his plan, the highlight in the story, the piece del resistance, Kodi fell off the trial and smacked his shoulder into a tree, bringing him around face on with Dusty. The plan fluttered away from his mind with no trouble.
So after Kodi ran through six large puddles of overflow, and at least sixteen more wrong turns, Nome came into view.
The team came up behind Kodi and stopped just as he had, gasping for breath, and looking like weary travelers in the desert when they first spotted water. Their traces fell to the snow with a clink of ice covered iron, and their eyes scoped the town hungrily. Food, water, rest, relaxation, all of it right there within reach.
Mr. Simpson stepped off the sled and looked south where the light of the day began to drain quickly away. He was really late and he knew it. His eyes drifted through the fur-lined hole to Kodi. Something was wrong with that dog, something had gotten into him, or gotten on his mind, and now Kodi didn’t seem to know which way was up. Mr. Simpson looked at Ralph, at least Ralph wouldn’t get lost on the next run. “Come on boys and girl. Let’s get down there and get some rest.” Mr. Simpson urged on, stepping back onto the sled and giving it a good heave with his right boot.
Kodi stepped forward and his traces pulled the rest of the team towards Nome. They began to pick up the pace as they started the last downhill run before Nome. Plowing through the snow, Kodi pushed on.
For a while Mr. Simpson thought he could feel the old vinegar of life in his dogs as the sled sliced through the snow. Maybe Kodi just wanted to stay in Nome? Mr. Simpson thought. Maybe there’s something he didn’t quite want to leave behind yesterday? Of course, only half of what Mr. Simpson was thinking was true.
The team hit the town and the hard-packed snow, their speed dropped to a slow walk, and their breath slowed dramatically. “Oh,” Ralph complained openly. “My feet are killing me. If I ever put on a harness again, it will be too soon.” They all moved around the corner they had raced around two days previous without haste, and made a straight line for the post office 100 yards away.
“Amen.” Kirby said several seconds after Ralph had stopped speaking. Kodi’s eyes moved to Ralph’s for the first time since they left Nome. Kirby saw Kodi’s passing glance and he looked away full of shame and guilt. He knew it was still his fault that Kodi hadn’t had his head on right and Dusty had been so mad at him.
The last hundred yards to the post office never felt so horrible. The weight of the sled, the mail, Mr. Simpson, and all their gear, never felt so heavy in the straps of the harnesses, or against the pads of their paws. For a while Kodi thought, and felt, that the entire weight of the sled was in his harness alone. His paws sunk in the snow, and every step he took forwards, felt like two steps back. He groaned loudly, and heaved harder. Why weren’t his teammates pulling their fair share?
With a grunt, Kodi stopped in front of the post office and dropped to his belly into the snow. Kirby, Ralph, Dusty, Kip, and Fell, all followed in suit, their eyes half closed, elated at the thought of rest and food.
Mr. Simpson pulled the snow hook from the leather bag on the handlebar and hefted it in his right hand, weighing the idea of setting it or not. He looked at his team, exhausted and indolent to everything except their own self-serving need to sleep and eat. Thinking better of the idea, Mr. Simpson put the hook back into the bag, and grabbed his bag of meatballs. It only took him a moment to realize that the canvas bag had nothing in it. “Sorry,” He held the bag up for his team’s eyes, who all looked at the white cloth with hungry dejection. “Nothing fast.” Mr. Simpson set the bag back down in the sled. “But I promise you that I’ll cook something good up right after I get the mail in.”
Mr. Simpson grabbed both sacks of mail and hefted one into each hand. He pushed up the steps of the post office and through the door with a jingle of bells.
Mr. Conner stood behind the counter, busy writing in personally diary type book. He barely moved his eyes from his writing as the steam from around the rafters dissipated, and the heat from the stove began to come through the cracks in Mr. Simpson’s clothing. “You’re late.” Mr. Conner said coldly.
Mr. Simpson stepped forward like a child caught with his father’s gun. He set the mail on the counter and removed his mittens and hood. “Yeah.” Mr. Simpson agreed in the same cold manner. Leaning against the counter, he looked at the frost covered glass in the door like he looked out at his dogs. “Something’s wrong with them, specifically Kodi.” Mr. Simpson turned to face Mr. Conner who had stopped writing in his book. The book now rested under the corner of his right elbow and his hand pressed firmly against the bottom of his jaw.
“You know,” Mr. Conner moved his elbow from his book and grabbed both the mailbags to heft them off the counter. The weight of the mail fell on his shoulders, making his arms hang low between his legs “Since you’ve been gone there have been some big changes in town.”
Mr. Conner moved around the counter with both sacks of mail between his legs just above the floor. Mr. Simpson followed him with his eyes. “Oh yeah, like what?”
Mr. Conner made the turn at the end of the counter, and headed straight for the stove. “Look at the bulletin board.”
Mr. Simpson cast his eyes towards the bulletin board like a drunk across the bar. There, directly in the center of the board, a long blue piece of paper was hung over two or three other ads and stapled securely in place. Moving across the room from his leaning position on the counter, Mr. Simpson began reading it before he fully stood in front of it. “The return of the Alaska five hundred.” Mr. Simpson said after a moment. He looked at Mr. Conner who just finished hanging the second bag of mail from the ceiling. “So what brought this on?”
Mr. Conner rubbed his hands against his black pants and glimpsed the two bags once more before deciding that he had hung them properly. “Oh some bureaucratic mumbo jumbo about health and well being, It’s just something to get the money flowing and the people out of their homes.”
Mr. Simpson’s gaze crawled back to the sheet of paper. “Five thousand dollars to the winner, huh?” His
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