“Some kind of research on flowers that grow on the Rocky Mountain slopes. But when he came back, there was no interest in that sort of thing. And there weren’t any jobs that he could find to do around Aspen. So he decided to move out to Ashcroft. Land was cheap and snow lay on the mountains seven months of the year. Dog-sledding and skiing had become a great national sport. So he decided to turn his hobby into a job! He and Mrs. Mace worked through one summer and a long hard winter to build the log and stone lodge we passed. Guests can stay there and enjoy long trips into the mountains with the dog-sled teams and—”
Lynne, interrupting him with a laugh, said, “You’re so wound up talking about Mr. Mace, you forgot about the tour. I can see from here people crowding through the gate.”
They made the remaining distance on the run. They arrived in time to join the twenty or thirty others all trying to squeeze as close as possible to the owner and guide, while Judy unabashed scrutinized every likely or unlikely person that might be Karl.
13
THE HUSKIES
Stuart Mace was dressed in well-fitting khaki trousers and a plaid shirt open at the throat. His sturdy bronzed neck suited the finely molded features of his face and his smile was warm and friendly.
“As you see,” he began, “we have a great family of dogs, bred for hard work in the mountains, ice and snow. From our original nine dogs we have eighty, among them some of the finest leaders and teams in the country.”
He motioned the group to follow him. Individual kennels shaded by trees extended in all directions. The dogs, tied by long leashes, had a great deal of freedom. They looked at the visitors unmoved. None barked. Mr. Mace pointed out common characteristics: their large, long-haired bodies, the markings on their bodies, their intelligent faces, their long pointed ears and bushy tails. As Mr. Mace passed the dogs, he fondled them and those who were by chance overlooked snuggled up to him and their eyes begged for his caress.
“Let’s have a look at some of the very young dogs,” Mr. Mace said, the crowd at his heels. He picked up a beautiful furry puppy and held him in his arms like a baby.
“This Alaskan dog is only three months old. We know by this time that she will never do the work our dog teams must do.”
“How do I know?” Mr. Mace smiled at the man who asked the question.