CHAPTER 1

She couldn't contain herself. Every time Leon caught a fish, Patcheswent bonkers. The three-pound kokanee salmon Leon was reelingup through the hole in the ice was no exception.

"Hang on, girl. Take it easy," he told the wriggling ball of fur. LeonBanes was having the time of his life with Patches, his one-year-oldborder collie.

The ice at the Silos on Canyon Ferry Lake measured nine inchesthick, and the temperature outside Leon's ice-fishing hut was tenbelow zero. Inside, a toasty seventy degrees prevailed, thanks to a smallwood-burning stove venting the smoke up a galvanized pipe and outthrough the top.

At forty-nine, Leon was finally living his dream. After landing thesalmon and tossing it into the bucket, he gulped down his second beer,turned to Patches, and said, "I gotta pee, girl. How about you?"

Patches pulled her head from the bucket where she was keeping aclose eye on the flopping salmon. Leon unzipped the canvas door of thehut, and Patches bolted out onto the frozen, snow-covered lake. "Wait aminute, girl. Forgot the camera. Gotta take pictures of you on your firstice-fishing trip."

With camera in hand, Leon thought of the magazine article he wrotethat would be published in next month's Montana Monthly magazine."Race to the Sky Fever" would be a tribute to the annual sled dog racethat begins and ends outside of Helena each February.

Leon had set his hut on the lake about three hundred yards from theshoreline. The weekend crowd had gone. He valued privacy and wantedto be alone on the ice throughout the week. As he headed toward theshoreline to the outhouse with Patches, he saw a fishing hut setting uptwo hundred yards away. They got the whole damn lake and look where theypark—right next to me.

A big man with a red beard was smoking a cigar outside the hutwhile another person remained inside with their back to the door.

"Catch anything?" said the man.

Patches ran over and greeted him like a long-lost friend.

"Just a couple of kokanee and a few perch. You?"

"We're working on it. We'll catch a big one soon." The man reacheddown and scratched Patches behind the ears.

"Well, good luck."

"You too," said the man.

"Come. Let's go, girl." Leon didn't want to intrude and had to callPatches several times before she left the man.

On a breathtaking January day, Canyon Ferry Lake was frozen fromone end to the other. Lake ice faded into snow-covered mountains thatmerged into cloudy winter skies, a splendid panorama to explore andphotograph. Leon spent the better part of the afternoon capturing onemajestic snapshot after another with his digital thirty-five millimetertelephoto zoom lens camera. He knew Becky, his fiancée, would lovethis.

While Leon was absorbed in taking pictures, time flew by. He andPatches had wandered over a mile from the hut. His fingers were startingto cramp through his gloves, and Patches stopped more now, alternatingher paws above the ice, a sure sign her pads were burning. The sun wassetting, the temperature was dropping, and storm clouds were loomingon the western horizon. This meant snow. They were hungry and cold.He wanted to call Becky but remembered how he had left his cell phoneback at the hut.

Heading back across the ice, Leon carried Patches. Holding her tightin his arms with his head buried in her thick, jet-black fur, he shieldedhis face from the piercing wind. Her coat smelled sweet and musky, andhe breathed it in as he talked to her along the way. "Am I gonna have tobuy you some boots? I thought you were tough, like a sled dog."

Her ears perked up and down, and she wagged her tail and leanedher head against his in response to his voice.

"No," he teased, "you're just an old, wimpy sheepdog." The windpicked up, and he whispered in her left ear, "I'm so glad you're with menow."

When they reached the hut, Patches curled up on his sleeping bagwhile Leon turned on the lantern and started a fire in the stove. Hefound his cell phone and was about ready to dial Becky when it rang andstartled him. Instead of him calling her, she was calling him.

"How's it going? I tried calling but no answer."

"I forgot to take the damn thing with me. Sorry. We just got back. Igot some awesome pictures."

"How's Patches?"

"She's having a ball."

"You're not spoiling her now are you?"

They laughed because they both knew the truth. He was spoiling herrotten and enjoying every minute.

"How are you holding up, honey?" He knew she had been workingovertime.

"Spent all day in a meeting with the governor and the Japanese tradedelegation. Mitchell is leaving for Thailand tomorrow, so we had tofinish everything up today. You guys staying warm?"

"The stove is perfect."

"A front's moving through; the temperature's going to drop. Thatmeans snow. Could get wild out there tonight, so be careful. Call me ifyou need me. I love you guys."

After they hung up, Leon wished Becky was with him. Heremembered one of their first camping adventures together. They hadhiked seven miles up Blodgett Canyon to High Lake, a beautiful place inthe Bitterroots, where he had shown her a dazzling display of stars. Heso loved sharing life with this gorgeous, self-assured brunette.

That evening out on the lake with Patches, Leon heated up a canof beef stew and fed Patches her favorite meal, a can of liver dog food.She wolfed it down, and he ended up sharing some of his stew withher. Afterward, he turned on the fish finder, loaded up his hooks withmaggots, and cracked open a beer. Fishing had resumed for the night.

The wind picking up outside and the sleet pelting the hut pulled hiseyes from the fish finder. Glancing back, a large object was registering.He watched the blip on the screen for a few more minutes until it movedoff. Either that was the biggest fish in the lake—or my fish finder is on the fritz.

While adjusting the electronic device, the tip of his fishing pole bentforward in a steady, slow manner, a sure sign he had hooked something.Just before the pole slipped through the hole in the ice, he grabbed it.This sudden movement alerted Patches to take her usual stance next tothe hole. The fun had begun again.

"Damn. What the hell did I snag? This is no ordinary fish, Patch."

Leon struggled for more than ten minutes, reeling it to the surfacewhile Patches remained vigilant. When he yanked it through the hole,he was surprised to see a gigantic brown trout flopping on the smallfloor of the hut. As he tried to unhook it, Patches growled, whined, andsnapped her jaws at the huge fish. Every time it moved, she tried to stopit with her paws.

"What's wrong, girl? Never seen a fish this big before, eh? Let's seehow much it weighs." He grabbed the scale from his tackle box, hookedit up to the big brown's lower jaw, and hoisted the fish into the air withhis right arm. It measured off the scale. "It's a new Canyon Ferry Lakerecord." Patches barked.

After he put his prized catch outside to freeze, Leon called it a day.He crawled into his warm sleeping bag, reached over, and turned off thelantern. Patches curled up next to him. In the midst of a winter storm,they nodded off to sleep listening to the wood crackling and hissing inthe stove. A perfect day had ended.

At seven forty-five the next morning, Patches woke him up. Heunzipped the door, and she ran out into the faint light of dawn. Afterstoking the fire, he stepped outside,...