He passed the Copper Mountain Lodge on the left and noticed new cabins along the Copper River. “The Bowie brothers seem to have turned their luck around.”

“Yeah. Rough to lose both their parents at the same time. But Hudson is in charge now, and he seems to have a business mind. He and Malachi opened an outfitter’s store and run trips out to Remington Mines in the summer.”

“You do a pretty good job of keeping up.”

She looked at him. “Don’t tell me you don’t have a subscription to the Copper Mountain Good News.”

He said nothing.

“Besides, Winter tells me everything. She has her own YouTube channel too.”

Of course she did.

He didn’t ask about anyone else. Just kept his mouth shut. And Larke didn’t offer. Until, “Hey. You’ll be in town for the Rowdy.” She looked at him, grinning.

“Nope.”

“Dodge, c’mon. You were amazing—”

“Nope.”

“What’s the Rowdy?” Riley asked as Dodge took the spur to the train depot.

She turned in her seat to face the back. “It’s our annual post-Iditarod party. It used to be called the Cabin Fever Festival, but somewhere along the way it just turned into the Rowdy.”

“Because . . . ?”

“It gets pretty rowdy,” Dodge said, rolling his eyes.

“It’s fun,” Larke added. “There’s a big flapjack feed at the community church and a snow sculpture contest and a three-dog sled race and a breakup dance.”

“What’s a breakup dance?”

“No one can bring a date. You have to come stag. Even if you’re dating someone. That gives everyone a chance to dance.”

Dodge shook his head. “It’s a way to make the guys bathe and shave.”

Larke laughed. “Six months of winter and it’s about time. But Dodge is all talk—he doesn’t dance.”

“Not at all?” Riley said.

“I have two left feet, and I’m not about to make a fool of myself out there.”

Larke turned back to the front and smiled at her brother. “Dodge has other skills—he was one of the key defensemen on our high school state championship hockey team three years running. The Rowdy has a big outdoor hockey tournament between the townies and the bush folks. Dodge was always the star of the bush team.”

“Larke.” He glanced at her.

Larke continued, clearly ignoring his warning look, “He’s amazing. When he was sixteen, he was playing in state tournaments. Dad wanted him to play for a traveling team, but Dodge didn’t want to leave home.”

Just another attempt by his father to get rid of him.

“I had other plans,” he said, and then wished he hadn’t let that escape.