At the dinner table with Brooke's family, plus Dad, I don't focus on conversation about slices of roasted goose and butter-soaked mashed potatoes.

My gaze wonders to Brooke. Deep brown hair caresses her shoulders and falls over curves wrapped in a snow-white turtleneck. When her sparkling brown eyes meet mine, I catch her lips curving in a faint smile. An unexpected heat washes all the way through me. I turn away and snap my head toward a voice calling my name.

"James, did you hear me?" Mr. Malden's voice pierces through my fog. "Please pass the salad down this way."

"Oh, sure, Mr. Malden." I put both hands on the bowl to make sure not to drop fresh lettuce and tomatoes. That is a rare sight at a wintertime table in the village.

"I'm real sorry you've had a setback, young man. Fred says you two will be heading back home before the races start on Friday."

"My goodness, my goodness," says Maggie Peters, lifting her eyebrows. Graying hair and wrinkles make her many years older than Brooke's mother.

Mrs. Malden's youthful face fills with concern. "If you leave, you'll miss all the fun. You must stay."

"James told me he's thinking it over," Brooke says. Her direct gaze makes me know I need to tell the whole tale before she does.

"Brooke has offered me two of her dogs." I fidget like the seat of my chair holds a pad of slippery ice.

My dad's fork drops with a clatter against his plate. "Oops, great surprise. How about that?"

Mr. Malden chuckles. "Sounds like a good idea. Brooke Anne, you can race in the eight-dog next year."

"Right," says Brooke with a slight smile. "Shemya and Tok will lead our team in three days of much shorter distances. It'll be easier for them to work together in the six-dog races."

Jovial remarks follow. Brooke's attitude puts me in a quandary. I must change something before I can accept her generous offer.

It is quite a while before the meal ends with cinnamon scented apple cobbler topped with ice cream. After my fill, I pull away from the table and thank Mrs. Peter for allowing me to stay the night in the barn with the hurt dogs.

"I'll go get my sleeping bag out of the truck, Dad."

I'm barely out in refreshing cool air when Brooke appears at my side.

"James Samuelson, do you want to take Jonsey and Libby?"

I stop in growing twilight and watch the full moon wrap a silver glow around her slim frame. In a demanding stance, her bare hands are again on her hips. She looks unaware of the beauty she holds, aware of nothing but dogs.

I hesitate for a way to say what has needed to be said for far too long. "Brooke, there is something I've owed you for quite a while."
With curious eyes wide, her head tilts in waiting.

"When I buzzed by you and the dogs on my Polaris that day and you were heading for the trail, do you remember what I said?"

"I sure do. You said mean things about Shemya being deaf." She looks away at spruce trees weighted with snowfall. It's as if she can hardly stand the sight of me.

"I apologize. Believe me, I think Shemya is the greatest dog there ever was. That turned out to be the day he fought off a big bear to save your life. He's smart and so darn brave."

She turns back to me. "And today, wasn't Shemya a hero in an attack by a moose?"

I nod. "My hope is that you'll forgive me for what I yelled that day."

"Yes.... I do. But you know I owe you an apology too. I've been putting off thanking you for saving Uncle Earl. Without you rescuing him from the Yukon, he would have drowned. Thank you, James."

"I've been waiting to hear you say that." Voices stop me from grabbing her in arms that ache to squeeze her. We both turn to Dad as the front door closes. He comes off the porch.

"Get your bag yet, James?"

"Oh yeah. I will in a minute."

Brooke gives my arm a tug. "How about loading Jonsey and Libby in the truck right now?"

"Right now?"

Her big brown eyes lock on me." It would be good for those two to start mingling with your dogs as soon as possible. How about it?"

"You bet!" Relief sweeps over me. That answer will keep me in the race. Her radiant smile sends a tingle all through me. Before I budge, she dashes away, saying she'll get both dogs.

Dad just shrugs when I tell him he'll have two more dogs to take care of tonight. He unfastens one dog door to hold them both and begins to smooth out hay beds. I grab my bag and head for the barn.

The first sound I make at the door sends a stream of crying barks from Adak. She is much more anxious than I expect. It's true she has a more agitated nature than any of my other dogs, and it is obvious this strange place makes her nervous. I pet and try talking her down, then give her a dose of tranquilizer from the vet. Blackie seems indifferent and manages to rise up enough to have a drink of water before nestling again as if he's glad to sniff fresh, green hay.

Dad pokes his head in the door, wishes me a good night and says he'll pick me up early tomorrow. Brooke appears beside him and enters leading Shemya.

"Just a minute," she says. "I think there's no need for you to camp out here, James. Shemya can keep an eye on both Blackie and Adak." Shemya's classic masked face shifts from one dog to the other.

"Blackie seems to be progressing well," Dad says as he reaches in to pet him.

Brooke gives a hand signal to Shemya. "I know Shemya can calm Adak down by giving her a tongue licking or a growl." Her devoted deaf dog watches as her hand points at the lame dogs and touches their ears.

Adak flops down with full attention on Shemya. Her head bows as if taking an order issued by a proud royal malamute.

Dad rests a hand on my shoulder. "Look at that. Both of them look calm, like Shemya's in charge."

"I'll check on them later and call you if there's a problem, James. Feel free to hook up and start training your team with Libby and Jonsey tomorrow."

"Our little gal has a good point." Dad gives Brooke a hug and me a look of relief. It's obvious he wants me there to help care for the team, meaning a lot less work for him.

"Gosh, Brooke, if you're sure that'll work. I'll come by and give them the medicine tomorrow."

"Sure, it'll work. Look how Shemya is curled up facing both of them. He's ready to be on guard all night."

When Dad and I drive away, my thoughts stray from the dogs. I dwell on Brooke, her image and every word she uttered tonight.