Broken Trails Read Free

real estate, she remained to one side, giving her a clear shot of the audience and a profile of the current Iditarod president as he began his speech. She had a fifty-fifty shot of catching the award winners as they came past her to the stage or, if they chose the other side, a full frontal shot as they approached the dais. Later, there would be a posed photo shoot while the scheduled dancing began.
    The winner of this year's race, a ramshackle man with a droopy blond mustache, chose to head to the opposite side, pleasing Lainey. No doubt everyone else would follow his lead. This afforded her an advantageous position, and she used it well as her camera shutter clicked away.
    Mentally, she filed the names and awards as they passed through. The big winner won the grand prize, a check for sixty-nine grand, and a new diesel truck from a local dealership. She knew there were monetary prizes for the next thirty finishers, ranging from sixty-three thousand to eighteen. Rather than bore her editor with all of them, Lainey stopped photographing after the fifth place winner went through, checking her digital readouts and readjusting for the next round of prizes.
    “Tenth place, Scotch Fuller of Fuller Kennels! Twenty-eight thousand dollars!"
    Scotch? Who would name their kid Scotch? Intrigued despite herself, Lainey searched the audience for the owner of such a moniker. One table burst into rowdy cheering at the announcement, several standing as they clapped the mysterious Scotch on the back. Lainey half expected the man to be as drunk as his friends or family appeared to be. It was a couple of moments before she realized the tenth place winner was a woman, not a sloppy drunkard. When she got to the base of the stairs and into the lights of the stage wash, Lainey's mouth dropped open.
    It was the woman who had helped her to her feet that afternoon.
    Without the parka, she looked better than Lainey remembered. She wore jeans and a rose-colored turtleneck sweater, revealing a lanky form that held more than a hint of femininity Her hair was short and curly, like Lainey's, but the lights sparked it into golden fire. Her smile was brilliant as she accepted her winnings, and a handshake from the Iditarod president. Then she spoke into the microphone, thanking her family and sponsors.
    With a start, Lainey aimed and shot, allowing the automatic shutter to keep collecting data as Scotch finished her speech. Completely enamored, it was not until the digital camera ceased that Lainey returned to the present. With a curse, she examined the readout to discover she had used up the entire data storage disk. She fumbled another from her pocket, but did not replace it quick enough to get a close up of Scotch leaving the stage.
    The rest of the night passed in a blur of photo ops and reveling. Knowing the job came first did little to console Lainey as she got the required interview with the top three placers. Her mind simply would not allow her to focus, constantly dragging her attention to one particular table. Disgusted at her lack of control, and at her inability to get more photos of that intriguing woman, Lainey was almost relieved when she saw the Fuller celebrants leaving the banquet. At the same time, however, she had an abrupt urge to follow them, properly introduce herself and thank Scotch again for her assistance that afternoon.
    Late that night, after her final installment had been sent to Strauss, she sat in the dark of her hotel room. The only illumination was her laptop display. Lainey had taken the consecutive photos of Scotch Fuller, stringing them together to create a movie of sorts. She sat at the desk, chin in her hands as the impromptu movie played on a continuous loop.
    What kind of person was she? Was her name real or a nickname? Did she have a boyfriend? A husband? She had to be a strong individual. Winning tenth place in a thousand mile dog sled race was not something to sneeze at. She was the highest placing woman this year,