four spoke wheels, and what looked like two small pedestals or footholds in the back, as well.
What was most odd wasn't the vehicle itself, but the harnesses that were attached to the front. There were fifteen individual harnesses, fourteen of which were paired together, with a single harness at the lead.
That's when Katie realized this wasn't a wagon at all, but a sled.
"Coming, Miss Price?” Kyle said with a hint of a smile.
Katie thought back to the first day she’d been at the farm, watching Kyle train the dogs in pairs. He had been training them to work as a team.
All this time he had been training them to become…sled dogs? Who trained sled dogs in South Carolina?
“I don’t understand,” Katie said.
Kyle walked over to Katie and held out his hand, palm up, as if he were a chauffeur. She took it and he helped her step up onto the sled, which was nothing more than a piece of plywood about two feet wide and four feet long, with one-inch-by-six-inch timbers lining the sides. It was more or less a box on wheels.
Katie stepped in and sat cross-legged with her bag in her lap as Kyle began to check all lines attached to the sled.
“I still don’t understand,” she said again. “You train sled dogs?”
Kyle walked to the front of the sled and tugged lightly on the center line that was attached to the sled. He didn’t answer her question, but began explaining instead.
“There are four lines, all of which are referred to as rigging,” he began, grasping the center line and holding it off the ground. “You should be familiar; you’ve been cleaning and sorting it for the past few days,” he said with a grin.
Katie looked down at the nylon lines. He was right. She had just assumed they were used for some type of training.
How did I not see this sooner?
“This is the tow line, and it connects to the bridle,” he said, pointing to two short lines connected to the front left and front right of the sled. “It also connects to this safety line or shock line. It’s more or less a backup line in case the tow line was to snap.”
Katie unzipped her bag as slowly and quietly as possible, pulling out her notepad and pencil as Kyle continued.
He spoke in such great detail, explaining the intricacies of each line all the way down to the different types of threads. She had no clue what he was talking about half the time, but she kept writing anyway. She was just grateful he was talking to her at all considering the rough start they'd had, let alone carving out the details of the story she had been trying to capture for almost a week.
Kyle stopped examining the rigging and stood tall next to the front of the sled. “Colossus. Come.”
Katie looked up from writing. In the field and the barn, Kyle communicated with the dogs mostly with hand gestures. This was only the second time she’d ever heard him speak to the dogs. His tone was different with the dogs than with her. There was no hesitation.
Katie turned her eyes from Kyle and towards the black and tan dog that moved towards him. Colossus was one of the first dogs she could recall seeing that day in the field. He was huge—the only dog she’d seen that was larger than King. As he trotted over this time, she noticed his tail was more downturned than the other dogs, and his hind legs were thick and powerful.
Kyle slipped a harness on Colossus, buckling it over the top of his back, and connected two lines to him: one to his collar—the neck line—and one to his harness—the tug line. When he was finished, Kyle called the next dog.
“Olympia. Come.”
Olympia was in direct contrast to Colossus. Her coat was entirely ginger and she glided gracefully over to Kyle. She was large, but she wasn’t quite the size of Colossus.
Kyle hooked her into the lines the same way he had Colossus. Both dogs stood side by side, directly in front of the sled.
“All the dogs out here are very strong. But Colossus and Olympia are wheel dogs—they’re not only
What was most odd wasn't the vehicle itself, but the harnesses that were attached to the front. There were fifteen individual harnesses, fourteen of which were paired together, with a single harness at the lead.
That's when Katie realized this wasn't a wagon at all, but a sled.
"Coming, Miss Price?” Kyle said with a hint of a smile.
Katie thought back to the first day she’d been at the farm, watching Kyle train the dogs in pairs. He had been training them to work as a team.
All this time he had been training them to become…sled dogs? Who trained sled dogs in South Carolina?
“I don’t understand,” Katie said.
Kyle walked over to Katie and held out his hand, palm up, as if he were a chauffeur. She took it and he helped her step up onto the sled, which was nothing more than a piece of plywood about two feet wide and four feet long, with one-inch-by-six-inch timbers lining the sides. It was more or less a box on wheels.
Katie stepped in and sat cross-legged with her bag in her lap as Kyle began to check all lines attached to the sled.
“I still don’t understand,” she said again. “You train sled dogs?”
Kyle walked to the front of the sled and tugged lightly on the center line that was attached to the sled. He didn’t answer her question, but began explaining instead.
“There are four lines, all of which are referred to as rigging,” he began, grasping the center line and holding it off the ground. “You should be familiar; you’ve been cleaning and sorting it for the past few days,” he said with a grin.
Katie looked down at the nylon lines. He was right. She had just assumed they were used for some type of training.
How did I not see this sooner?
“This is the tow line, and it connects to the bridle,” he said, pointing to two short lines connected to the front left and front right of the sled. “It also connects to this safety line or shock line. It’s more or less a backup line in case the tow line was to snap.”
Katie unzipped her bag as slowly and quietly as possible, pulling out her notepad and pencil as Kyle continued.
He spoke in such great detail, explaining the intricacies of each line all the way down to the different types of threads. She had no clue what he was talking about half the time, but she kept writing anyway. She was just grateful he was talking to her at all considering the rough start they'd had, let alone carving out the details of the story she had been trying to capture for almost a week.
Kyle stopped examining the rigging and stood tall next to the front of the sled. “Colossus. Come.”
Katie looked up from writing. In the field and the barn, Kyle communicated with the dogs mostly with hand gestures. This was only the second time she’d ever heard him speak to the dogs. His tone was different with the dogs than with her. There was no hesitation.
Katie turned her eyes from Kyle and towards the black and tan dog that moved towards him. Colossus was one of the first dogs she could recall seeing that day in the field. He was huge—the only dog she’d seen that was larger than King. As he trotted over this time, she noticed his tail was more downturned than the other dogs, and his hind legs were thick and powerful.
Kyle slipped a harness on Colossus, buckling it over the top of his back, and connected two lines to him: one to his collar—the neck line—and one to his harness—the tug line. When he was finished, Kyle called the next dog.
“Olympia. Come.”
Olympia was in direct contrast to Colossus. Her coat was entirely ginger and she glided gracefully over to Kyle. She was large, but she wasn’t quite the size of Colossus.
Kyle hooked her into the lines the same way he had Colossus. Both dogs stood side by side, directly in front of the sled.
“All the dogs out here are very strong. But Colossus and Olympia are wheel dogs—they’re not only
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