Lone Wolves by John Smelcer Page A

Christmas vacation ended, Denny saw a white truck parked in the driveway to her house, the chained dogs in the yard barking furiously. Lincoln Lincoln was trying to load her sled into the back of his truck. Kilana was standing on the bench seat, trying to wriggle his head out the window, which was partially rolled down.
    â€œWhat are doing?” she demanded, when she got to the truck.
    Lincoln sat the back of the sled on the ground.
    â€œYour mother sold me the dog and this sled,” he said. “Sorry about your grandfather. I heard you did pretty good in the race, but your mother said she didn’t need the sled no more, so I bought it for a hundred bucks.”
    Denny dropped her backpack full of school books and mustered all her menace.
    â€œYou can’t take the sled! It’s mine!”
    â€œLike I said, I already gave your mom the money for it,” replied Lincoln, lifting the back of the sled again and trying to shove it into the truck bed.
    Denny balled her hands into fists, wanting to flail out at Lincoln with both hands. Instead, she grabbed the sled and pulled it backward, wrestling with the man who was bigger and stronger. They pulled at the sled in a kind of tug-o-war. Denny was losing.
    â€œWait right here!” she finally yelled and then ran into the house, bursting through the door.
    Her mother was washing dishes.
    â€œYou have no right!” yelled Denny.
    â€œCalm down,” said her mother. “Let me explain.”
    But Denny wouldn’t listen.
    â€œThere’s nothing to explain. How could you?”
    â€œListen,” said Delia, “we need the money. I have bills to pay. Lincoln paid a lot for that dog, and he offered a hundred bucks for the old, beat up sled.”
    â€œBut it’s not yours to sell!” cried Denny. “It’s mine.”
    â€œWhat do you mean?”
    â€œGrandpa gave me the sled.”
    â€œBut it’s too late now, Honey. I’ve already sold it. I have to sell all the dogs. I can’t afford to feed them. Besides, it’s time you got that sledding nonsense out of your head.”
    Denny heard the truck bed gate close. She ran outside. Lincoln was just climbing into the cab, roughly shoving Kilana aside.
    Denny grabbed the man by the arm and pulled him from the blue seat.
    â€œWhat the hell are you doing?” shouted Lincoln, breaking free.
    Denny began crying.
    â€œYou can’t have the sled. It’s mine!” she sobbed.
    Her mother came out.
    â€œDenny!” she exclaimed, trying to pull her daughter away. “It’s too late. Let it go.”
    â€œWait one minute,” she pleaded with Lincoln before running into the house again.
    Moments later, she came out with a handful of money, mostly fives and tens.
    â€œHere’s a hundred dollars,” she said pressing the money into the man’s hands. “It’s all I have left from the money I won. Take it! The sled wasn’t my mother’s to sell. It’s mine. My grandfather gave it to me. You can have the money. Just leave the sled!”
    Lincoln eventually agreed to return the sled, but he kept the dog.
    As the truck drove away, Denny pushed the sled to where she always kept it and put it back on the wood blocks, while her mother watched with her arms crossed, shaking her head in disbelief.
    Afterward, Denny sat at the small kitchen table by the small window looking at the sled and the seven remaining dogs and thinking about what her mother had said about having to sell them.
    How can I race without dogs? How can I afford to keep them all?
    She sat for a long time, trying to read The Old Man and the Sea , but she couldn’t keep her mind on the book. Her thoughts always fluttered back to the dogs and the sled, the way flocks of small birds suddenly reel and turn back in the same direction.
    Finally, the answer came to her.
    She would enter the Great Race, one of the last great races on earth, a punishing race that