Northern Vet

Chapter One

The red pickup swung into the yard and came to a halt in a spray of snow. Brooke killed the engine and jumped out, shock showed on her face.

My dogs? Where are my dogs? Her words reverberated in the frigid air.

Her husband Seth, holding harnesses in his hands, turned to face her. Come and admire my new team.

The breath was sucked out of Brooke’s lungs. A wave of anger roiled up. Near exploding, she stammered, Where are my dogs? She pointed to the empty pens beside the cabin. For emphasis, she slammed shut the truck door.

I had a buyer. Sold them.

You did what? Rage constricted her throat.

Seth continued harnessing the eager huskies. Just what I said. Sold ‘em. We can’t keep mutts that can’t race. Not like my new Iditarod team. These beauties are finally gonna land me in the winner’s circle.

Brooke stepped onto the covered porch. You piece of crap! You had no right to sell my dogs. Mine, you hear? Not yours! I want them back. Where did they go?

The dogs that were already harnessed grew impatient. They barked and jumped in the air, raring to go. The snow anchor barely held.

Ian Campbell and Vince Bergen, their neighbors from two miles away, who had come to see Seth’s new team, rushed to restrain the sled before the team took off on their own.

Seth hitched the team leader. Don’t fret. They were just a bunch of old rescues that couldn’t race if they tried.

Calmer now, but with an icy tone, Brooke dropped her travel bag on the porch. Where are they? I want them back. Her anger mounted another notch. You, lowlife! You took advantage of my being away at my father’s funeral to do your dirty deed. You’re beyond despicable.

Seth made a mock gesture of despair for the benefit of the males present. Women! They know nothing about business.

Ian let go of the sled now that Seth was standing on the runners. You sure did good getting these guys from Dan up at Big River. He wouldn’t sell to me.

He only sells to the right people. You’re too fat.

Ian’s features twisted into an annoyed grimace.

Brooke’s fury surged again. You, jerk! One last time, where are my dogs?

In good hands. I’ve had enough of doing no better than twentieth place. And renting a team isn’t going to help me win the Iditarod.

The powerful huskies, feeling the looseness of the restraints, barked at the top of their lungs and stretched the gangline to breaking point.

Tell me where my dogs are or I’ll shoot you. She grabbed the rifle from the peg by the cabin door, where it hung when they were outside, protection in summer against a visiting grizzly or in winter if an ornery moose thought of attacking a dog team.

Seth laughed. You’d better shoot the two old dogs that are left. Nobody wanted to buy them. He let slip the brake and his team bounded forward in a blur of motion.

Brooke brought the Marlin to her shoulder. Before she could take a bead on her husband, the firearm was pulled from her grasp. Man and dogs disappeared down the snow-packed trail. She whirled round. Dexter Weiman stood beside her, holding the rifle out of her reach. His dark eyes locked on her green ones.

Dexter, what are you doing here?

A disarming smile floated on his lips. I was coming to borrow a neighborly cup of sugar. He kicked the snow off his boots.

I’m not in the mood for jokes, cheechako.

He lifted one shoulder in a lopsided shrug. Yep, that’s me, the tenderfoot. At least until the end of winter when I become a bona fide sourdough. Is that how it works?

If you last that long.

Jimmy Redhead took a couple of steps toward her. I think I can find out where your dogs went.

A tear rolled down her cheek on hearing the gentle voice of the Tlingit First Nation. Dexter put his arm around her shoulder. At the end of summer, he’d moved into the cabin next door, if one hundred yards away could be considered next door. He said he wanted to learn all about sled dogs and races.

Vince headed to his truck. "Okay, folks, I’m off. Thanks a million, Jimmy, for taking care of my lead dog.

Me too. I’d better get going. Ian’s eyes lingered on the six one-year-old husky pups poking their noses through the fence. He was about to say something, but clamped his jaw shut and hauled himself into his truck.

With a sigh, Brooke turned to Jimmy. Thanks for acting as a vet today. What was wrong with Vince’s dog?

A torn dewclaw. I removed it. I’ll go and feed the pups now.

As if they understood his words, the youngsters let out excited howls.

His arm still around her shoulders, Dexter returned the rifle to its peg on the wall and led her into the cabin. I figured I’d save you from going to prison.

She sighed. I was fully prepared to shoot him.

I figured you were. That’s why I intervened.

His gentle tone and sincere compassion defused the last of Brooke’s anger.

A wail came from deep down. No, no...

Julot and Nana, the veteran dogs, answered with a long sad howl. She cried on Dexter’s shoulder. Several racking sobs later, she lifted her head. Sorry, your coat’s all wet now.

It’ll dry.

Let’s go in. I’ll make coffee.

The kettle was simmering on the stove. Automatically, she spooned ground coffee into the top of a French coffee pot and filled it to let the boiling water filter through.

"This old French cafetière is my prize possession, after my dogs. It makes the best coffee ever."

Dexter added a log to the stove and Jimmy slipped into the cabin. Although it was already three months since her father died when his boat capsized during a freak storm off the coast of the Bahamas, it had taken all that time to negotiate the return of his body and get it back home. Her heart, already torn by his unexpected death, was torn anew by her husband’s treason.

Brooke placed three cups on the table while Jimmy took sugar from the shelf. He cut slices off the sourdough loaf he had baked that morning and brought them with a dish of butter to the table. Jimmy had come to her cabin every day to look after the dogs while she was away.

Thanks. Now, I’ve got to find my dogs. I must phone my lawyer to get a divorce.

A smile etched Jimmy’s rugged face. "We can find the musher who bought your dogs. He had personalized license plates, which read Dream On."

Brooke’s eyes widened. That sounds vaguely familiar. Galvanized, she rushed to her computer. "Dream On kennels. I should find it. Moments later, she leaned back on the chair, deflated. Not a thing. It’s not a working kennel, obviously."

I still think we can find him, Jimmy said.

Brooke gave a discouraged shake of the head. "How? Yukon Territory is not exactly small. We can’t go to every community and ask if anyone has seen a truck with Dream On plates transporting a bunch of dogs."

The Tlingit drew himself to his feet. I have friends. I’ll get the word out.

"Gunalshéeh," Brooke said.

With a trace of a smile on his lips, Jimmy said goodbye. Shortly afterwards, Brooke heard the yips of his dogs and watched through the window as his team vanished beyond the trees.

What does that word you said mean?

Brooke smiled. "It means you’re kind and generous. There isn’t really a word for thank you in Tlingit, but gunalshéeh is an accepted translation."

You speak the language?

Just a few words I picked up from Jimmy. It helps me get along with our aboriginal friends. Now, when did my jerk of a husband sell my dogs?

Yesterday.

I must check how much money I have to buy my dogs back.

Dexter frowned. We must find them first.

Did you see the truck, too?

He lifted his hands in defeat. I saw a dark green truck go up the road, but didn’t think too much of it. Trucks coming to the clinic are nothing unusual. When I heard the ruckus the dogs made, I thought maybe a grizzly had intruded.

Didn’t they tell you grizzlies hibernate until March?

He shrugged and gave a sheepish grin. Anyway, I saw the same truck going back. Dark green. But I was too far away to see the plates. I swear Jimmy has a pair of laser eyes in the back of his head.

And today you came to my rescue. I’ve got to thank you.

This morning Jimmy said he ought to tell me about the sale and did. Right away, I knew there might be trouble. So I cut across the back way on snowshoes.

Silent and efficient. The remnant of a sob shook her chest. What would a man want with a mismatched bunch of old huskies, including the four young Canadian Inuit dogs I rescued? Those are guaranteed to give anyone trouble. They may even have found a way to escape by now.

Dexter buttered another slice of bread and sprinkled it with sugar. He pushed it toward Brooke. Keep up your strength. What do you mean, they could have escaped?

Julot and Nana, out there in the pen, are their parents, so part of their pack. Those dogs will do anything to stay together. Their pack mentality is super strong.

He whistled. And they’ll find their way home even though they travelled in a transporter?

You’ve seen the air holes in the dog boxes. The dogs smell the landscape.

Eyes wide in admiration, Dexter clicked his fingers. They escape and smell their way back.

"Exactly. Those dogs can detect an aglu one mile away. That’s how keen their sense of smell is."

"What’s an aglu?"

A seal breathing hole in the Arctic sea ice. Inuit hunters rely on their dogs to find seals.

Like a student who suddenly understood, he nodded. And the others? How many?

Four Alaskan huskies that were injured, and three that didn’t work out. The racers were only too glad to leave them for me to rehome.

But sled dogs are not pets.

She swallowed the last mouthful of sugary bread and butter. No, they are certainly not pets. They are athletes. I rehabilitate those who can no longer race, train them to be good canine citizens and find someone or a family who likes hiking and skiing. The huskies are working dogs. Like all athletes, they need plenty of exercise. After a while, they adapt. They become loyal companions.

But not the Inuit dogs?

No way of turning them into pets. Inuit dogs are a primitive breed and are best left that way. Those animals came from Outside. They didn’t adapt to the southern climes, or rather the owner didn’t adapt to them.

"Excuse-me. Outside?"

For the first time since her return, Brooke laughed. Outside is anything beyond Yukon’s borders.

One more thing to remember before I can graduate to sourdough status.

She smiled. This tall man with muscles bulging under his sweater was endearing. Although she didn’t have any expectations, she checked her cell phone. Since there is no cell coverage here, I’ve got to go to Donek to phone the bank in Whitehorse.

I’m heading that way. Can I give you a ride? We can make it before the bank in Whitehorse closes.

She let out a breath. Thanks, that would help a lot.

The big Jeep didn’t take long to get to town through the shortcut over the frozen creek. Dexter parked outside the veterinary clinic. I’ll meet you here when you’re finished. I’m just going to the post office.

Her assistant greeted her with a smile soon extinguished. Is something upsetting you?

Not half, Erin! My worthless husband sold my dogs.

No!

I must phone the bank to get a loan to buy them back when we find who bought them, then my lawyer. I’m getting a divorce.

It’s about time, too.

To her relief, the bank was still open in Whitehorse. Not long after, Brooke stormed across the waiting room floor. She shook her fist. Mrs. Marsh and her placid Labrador looked up in surprise. That jerk emptied our account. They can’t give me a loan. I have no security. Why on earth did I agree to a joint account? There’s next to nothing left in my personal savings account.

Dexter had been chatting with Mrs. Marsh. He turned to Brooke. Maybe you don’t charge the mushers who come for veterinary care half enough money.

With an apology to Mrs. Marsh and her Lab, he placed a comforting arm around Brooke’s shoulders and forcibly walked her outside. Still holding her, he guided her across the street to the hotel restaurant. She crumpled onto a chair and held her head in her hands. A deep sob shook her. She brushed her hair back and took a deep breath.

Some of the racers can’t afford full vet fees. I’m more concerned about the dogs’ welfare. Small matters can turn to big matters in the middle of a race with poor outcomes for the dog, and the musher, really.

You’re too generous and I can’t change that, but I can help.

The waiter approached their table. Dexter smiled. Moose steak with steamed vegetables for both of us.

Brooke raised her eyebrows, but remained silent until the waiter moved away. I can’t accept your help. How would I repay you?

His smile revealed his perfect white teeth. We could establish a veterinary scale of payments. Nobody needs to get a free ride. Look at it this way. If a musher can afford to run races, he has to be able to afford the care of his dogs.

Some of them sacrifice everything just to enter the races, hoping to win enough to get a sponsor.

Nah, it’s not quite like that. This is the twenty-first century. Anyone wanting to race knows exactly down to the last dollar what it costs to run a kennel and feed dogs. They know how much money they need for race fees and veterinary expenses. If they can’t lay their hands on that kind of money, they should not be racing. You have been giving in to their sob stories and letting them off lightly. In short, many of them exploit your obvious love of animals to nickel and dime you.

Brooke gave him a sober look. You don’t believe in anyone having a dream, do you?

But I do, only not at our expense, so we have to reorganize the clinic.

Our? We?

He threw her a warm smile. That is, if you accept my help.

Head tilted, she examined him as if she was meeting him for the first time.

His smile was teasing. Like what you see?

The twinkle in his dark eyes drew a smile from her lips. Where did you live before you abandoned everything to come to this backwoods place? And why come here?

Where did I live? In the heart of Vancouver, British Columbia. Agate Creek is a nice community, a bit off the beaten track, but close enough to Donek, which has all the amenities a guy like me would need. When I viewed the cabin in Agate Creek, I was hooked.

Excuse my nosiness, but do you have something to hide?

His laughter drew an inquisitive look from Brooke. A lock of dark hair fell over his forehead.

Just then, the waiter brought the food, along with a basket of fresh-baked bread. He poured water in their glasses.

She didn’t start eating but looked expectantly at him.

Okay, confession time. I was your typical corporate executive. Dark gray suit and all that. After some time, I came to the realization that I wasn’t cut out for that lifestyle. For example, I would have liked to keep a dog. Nope. Nothing like that was possible. I reached the point where I had to quit or lose my sanity.

A quick glance at his trim body, large shoulders and capable hands made her think he spent more time at the gym than at the office.

Dexter followed her eyes. Do I pass muster?

She laughed. I was wondering if you spend much time at the gym.

Gym, yes, and skiing, bicycling. Swimming too. The city is great for that kind of thing, but I felt caged in.

A forkful later, Brooke nodded. I think I can understand. When I was a student in Saskatoon, which has the best veterinary school in the country, by the way, I couldn’t wait to get back here. But for you, why Yukon? It’s a long way from anywhere.

He shrugged. The little cabin I found was ideal. The local council was happy to get rid of it, for the unpaid taxes.

Little cabin? It’s the biggest log structure for a hundred miles around. Dare I ask how you earn a living?

His carefree laugh resonated in the room. The few fellow diners shot curious glances in their direction.

Dexter lowered his voice a notch. "I’m okay for the time being. Right away, I spotted the potential. A roomy cabin, nestled in an unspoiled valley. Great views of the northern lights.

Potential for what?

For a hotel, lodge, resort, whatever you want to call it. Tourists would flock here for the beauty, the nature, the peace and quiet.

A frown furrowed her brow. She narrowed her eyes. Have you considered that we locals don’t really want a busy resort on our doorstep?

Why not? Tourists bring a lot of cash. Something, I gather, mushers around here are rather short of.

We’ve got our pride. We’re a tight-knit dog-sledding community.

Let’s not talk any more about it, shall we?. It’s just an idea.

Her phone rang. Dexter was relieved. He was glad that she, and most likely the rest of the community, wouldn’t want a resort. He had no intention of building one. That wasn’t why he was in Agate Creek.

That was my lawyer returning my call. I have an appointment for tomorrow afternoon, then I’ll talk to the bank. I wonder if she can vouch for me to get a loan, considering what my soon-ex-to-be did.

I have some business in Whitehorse tomorrow. How about I give you a ride?

Mr. Weiman, you were on your way to Donek and gave me a ride, and tomorrow you just happen to have business in Whitehorse, where I have to be. Is all this a coincidence?

Dexter replied in a deadpan voice. Broke my sunglasses and have to get a new pair. I’ll show you the bits if you don’t believe me.

Okay, I accept. I’ll get Alex to come and feed the dogs and keep the stove going.

Dexter helped her on with her parka. I get the impression that young fella would rather spend his time with the dogs than attend school.

Contrary to what it looks, he’s a serious student who has ambitions to be a veterinarian. Yes, he finds school boring because he finishes his assignments in half the time. He much prefers a biology textbook to a comic book.

That’s refreshing to hear from a teenager.

* * *

Long before daylight returned to the territory, Brooke was up caring for her two old dogs. They were still howling over the loss of their pack. I know, babies. I could howl too, but I’m doing something about it. I’ll get them all back. Be good, now. Once more, she turned toward the east and blew the recall signal on her silent whistle. An empty gesture, but one that expressed her hope. She then fed the six pups, who were too young to have gone on Seth’s training trip. Poor puppies, it’s not your fault that my husband is such an idiot. You’re real beauties. You’ll make someone a good racing team. That’s if I can manage to find you a good home before he returns in three days’ time. She lifted a gloved finger. Actually, I think I know someone.

Minutes later, Dexter’s truck pulled into the yard. Brooke was expecting him, but not what he was driving.

My, a nice rig! A big truck and a dog transporter. And you don’t even have any dogs.

It was an opportunity too good to miss. Business decisions should be made fast. Dogs need to be chosen slowly and carefully.

Amen. You’re a man after my own heart. She blushed and climbed into the passenger seat.

He welcomed her with a big smile. He reached into the CD compartment. Bruce Springsteen okay?

Grateful for the change of topic, she nodded her agreement.

Chapter Two

The bank business was concluded quickly. It didn’t take them long to say no. The visit to the law office boosted Brooke’s self-confidence. The capable woman lawyer put immediate measures in place to prevent her husband from attempting more damage, such as mortgaging the clinic, even though the business was in her name only. The lack of such measures had enabled him to mortgage the cabin, even though that too was solely in her name.

On the lawyer’s advice, Brooke blocked her credit card. With depressing thoughts running wild, she walked the short distance to Antoinette’s, where Dexter was to meet her. The restaurant was her favorite on her infrequent visits to the capital. On this occasion, she hoped, in fact, was quite sure, that Dexter would pay for the meal. He had suggested Antoinette when she had proposed a cheaper eatery.

The subdued lighting and dark red decor soothed her tormented soul. While she waited for him, she pondered over the reasons why she had married Seth in her last year of vet school. Now she could see clearly how he had bamboozled her. The handsome, young musher, unable due to lack of funds to move to Alaska, was happy to move north to Yukon with her. His irresistible smile, his devoted attention, his declarations of love, all that was part of his malevolent agenda. He must have assumed that veterinarians made big money. As a bonus, she would look after his dogs for free. She was taking over Dave Roberts’ practice. Everything was set up.

How blind she had been, how naïve! She should have known not to trust a man so intent on her projects and career. A man who shared her ideals, ideals he had never expressed until she did. He coincidentally had possessed those self same ideals. What was the old saying about love being blind? She was the poster child for it.

The waitress smiled. Would you care for a drink and a starter while you wait?

Brooke realized how thirsty she was. I’d like a lime juice, please. I’ll wait to order.

While she waited, she pulled out her phone. Hi, Stephanie!

Goodness me, Brooke! Are you in town?

At Antoinette’s. Do you have anything for me?

There was a