She grabbed a glass and held it under a tap to fill it with a foamy brew. “I remember when you and your dad came in and camped out here nearly every day during the race. You were such a Susan Butcher fan.”

“Along with every woman in Alaska,” Echo said. “Only woman to win the race four times.”

Vic put the glass on a tray. “You even named one of your dogs after hers, right? Granite?”

“Her lead dog. Did you know that when he was born, he was the runt of the litter?”

Vic grinned at her. “Don’t follow it, huh?”

“Not anymore.” Echo picked up a bottle of ketchup and doused her fries.

“I remember when you and Dodge used to run your dogs up and down Main Street for the Copper Mountain Summer Mush.”

And this was why she didn’t come to town much. Or talk about mushing or Dodge or frankly any of the Kingston brothers.

“Young and stupid, Vic. Why anyone would run the Iditarod is beyond me—eight to thirty days in the wilderness, with wind chills down to minus forty, freezing off your fingers and toes, trying to keep your dogs alive and away from moose and grizzlies, and most of all, alone that entire time? No, thank you.”

Vic added another beer to the tray. “So, I’ll just turn up the volume on the TV, then?”

“Gimme the remote. I’ll do it.”

Vic put the final glass on the tray.

“Need me to bring that out to a table?” Echo asked. “I think your waitress is a little occupied.” She glanced over to Shasta Starr, who was collecting money for her brother’s arm-wrestling gig.

“Hey, Shasta!” Vic yelled, but it didn’t carry over the crowd. Echo got up. “I got this.”

“Take it to the guys from Remington Mines over in the booth.”

Echo carried the beers over and set the tray down on the table of the modern-day miners. They, too, appeared like they hadn’t been out of the wilderness since October, wearing beards, their hair matted, their jackets grimy. At least she’d taken a bath and washed her clothes.

It earned her a couple of suggestions and one actual compliment as she unloaded the beers.

“Struck gold yet, fellas?” she asked as she tucked the tray under her arm.

“There’s always gold. It’s just how much. You should come out to the mine sometime, let us show you around.” This from Jude, the youngest of the Remington brothers, a man in his midtwenties.

“I’ve panned for enough gold in my time,” Echo said, “trust me. My dad has a claim near our homestead. Can I interest you in fries?”

She took their order because, well, why not? Then she headed back to Vic.