Lone Wolves by John Smelcer Page B

pits man and dog against some of the roughest landscape on the planet. The prize money for any team finishing in the top ten would be enough to support her family for a year; maybe longer. The prize money for a top three finish could support them for years.
    Denny told her mother the idea, knowing it would be a hard sell. Her mother listened with her mouth agape the whole time.
    â€œBut, Mom, if I place high enough, I can pay to feed the dogs with my own money,” she pleaded.
    â€œBut, Deneena, dear, that race is for grown-ups. Only the best athletes enter. You’re a 16-year-old-kid, for god’s sake.”
    â€œBut what if I win?”
    â€œDenny, I need money to pay our bills now . I don’t have enough to feed all those dogs,” she said, looking out the window at the dogs sitting in or on their dog houses. “What if you don’t win? What happens then?”
    Despite Delia’s arguments, Denny eventually convinced her mother to give her a couple months, until after the race in early March. In the meanwhile, she promised to earn enough money doing odds jobs to pay for dog food. Besides, there was still quite a lot of dried salmon in the shed.
    Excited by the notion of running the race—the longest and toughest in the world—Denny called a couple of pilots who flew supplies into the village to find out how much it would cost to transport herself, the dogs, her sled, and other gear, as well as all the food required to feed the dogs for the duration of the race. The cost was well over a thousand dollars . . . one way ! It would cost a little less coming home because the load would be lighter, the dogs having consumed all their food during the long race. But Denny didn’t worry about the cost to come home. In her mind, she would place high enough among the finishers to earn the money to pay to bring her team back to the village. In her mind, all she had to do was get to the starting point.
    But at that moment Denny had no money. She had spent it all on the rifle for her grandfather’s potlatch and buying back the sled, which was hers in the first place. She sat on her bed thinking how she could raise the money she needed to enter the race.
    Then she got an idea.
    Denny gathered several empty coffee cans, rinsed them out, and cut a slit in each of the plastic lids. She made signs asking people to donate money to help pay for the transportation costs to be in the Great Race, and taped the signs around each can. The next day, after asking permission, she left the cans all over the village: at the general store, at the village tribal office, the school, the church, the tiny post office, the medical clinic that was only open two days a week, and at the community hall where elders played bingo on Fridays and Saturdays.
    After a week, Denny went around checking the coffee cans. At the store, Valerie Charley stood behind the counter and watched as Denny picked up the can and shook it.
    â€œSounds pretty empty,” she said, timid as an owl hoot.
    Denny opened the lid and poured the contents onto the counter. Only a handful of coins spilled out, mostly nickels and dimes and a couple quarters. But there was also a tightly folded piece of paper. She opened it and read the misspelled note that had a penny taped to it:

    Dog Sleding ain’t for gurls!!

    After reading the note, Denny handed it to Valerie, who also read it.
    â€œI’m sorry, Den,” she said, crumpling the note and tossing it into the garbage. “They’re wrong. My brother said you done real good in that race. He said you almost came in second. I wish I could be more like you—fearless, ya’ know?”
    â€œWhat do you mean?”
    â€œI wish I was brave enough to follow my dreams. Look at me. Look at this place,” Valerie turned, gesturing at the cramped, near-empty shelves. “What future is there for me here? Am I supposed to be a cashier in this crummy store forever? I wanted to