Tamarack River Ghost: A Novel

17. Skiing in the Park

100 Skiing in the Park 17 This time Josh took the initiative. It was a bright, sunny Sunday in January, a fine day to be outside. He decided to call Natalie to see if she’d like to go cross-country skiing. It was a wild idea. He didn’t even know if she knew how to ski. And besides, this might be one of the weekends she worked. She answered on the first ring. “Sure, I’d love to go,” she said when Josh posed the question. “I’ll rustle up my skis and be ready when you get here.” Josh now remembered he didn’t even know where she lived. “Where is ‘here’?” he said. “Oh, you don’t know where I live, do you?” She gave him the address, a cabin on Copperhead Lake, a couple of miles east of Willow River. The temperature hung around twenty degrees, but without a wind and with bright sunshine it was about as nice a winter day as anyone could ever want. The snow piled along the road was still fresh and clean, since the latest snowfall had only been a couple of days earlier. Josh decided on the Tamarack River Park; it had new trails that spread out along the Tamarack River and snaked through the nearby pine woods and marshes. They traveled along the snow-packed road for several miles in silence, enjoying the winter views. How different Ames County looked in winter: all of nature’s sharp edges were rounded. The vivid colors of summer were now blacks, grays, and whites, with an occasional pine tree providing a splash of green. Their skis crunched over the cold snow. Otherwise the park was quiet, not a sound as they moved along the trail. Snow hung from the pine trees, 101 Skiing in the Park the white contrasting with the green. And a bright blue sky with a warm sun added the final note to perfect the scene. When they stopped to rest, Josh dug his camera out of his pocket. “Can I snap a picture?” he asked. “Sure, snap away,” said Natalie, a big smile spreading across her face. “Want to see it?” asked Josh. “It’s a good one.” “Nah, let’s move on.” They skied along quietly for nearly a half hour, one following the other, enjoying the winter day and each other’s company. Josh turned a corner in the woods and stopped abruptly. A person holding a gun stood next to the ski trail. He was smiling. “Mr. Burman,” Josh blurted out. “I didn’t expect to see you here.” By this time, Natalie had caught up with Josh and turned the corner as well, and saw Burman with a gun. “Mr. Burman,” she said. Burman was wearing snowshoes, the old-fashioned kind made of bent wood and leather. “Madam game warden,” said Burman, bowing a bit. He held the gun in the crook of his hand, the barrel pointed downward. “What . . . what are you doing out here?” asked Natalie. She wished she were wearing her sidearm and badge. “Huntin’ rabbits,” said Burman. “Tryin’ to find me a few rabbits. Kids like fresh fried rabbit meat.” “With a deer rifle. You’re hunting rabbits with a .30–30 Winchester?” “Yup, I am.” Burman smiled, knowing that rabbit season was still open and that deer season had closed back in late November. “Seems the rabbits here in the valley get just a little harder to kill every year. Started huntin’ them with a BB gun when I was kid, then turned to a .22 single shot, then a .22 semi-automatic. Then got me a .410, which worked pretty good for a few years. But now, well now, it takes a .30–30 to knock over one of these Tamarack River bunnies.” He said all of this with a straight face, knowing full well that he was blowing smoke at the conservation warden. Natalie did not smile at his little firearms litany. “Well, I’ll be on my way, then,” said Burman. “You folks have a good 102 Skiing in the Park day now.” Burman pushed off into the woods on his snowshoes, the snow packing under them. He did not look back. “Burman has the gall. He’s hunting deer out of season and in broad daylight, too.” “Said he was hunting rabbits,” Josh said, a big smile spreading across his face...