Tamarack River Ghost: A Novel

14. Ice Fishing

86 Ice Fishing 14 Josh’s mother had taught him well. When someone gives you a present, or does something nice for you, you send them a thank-you note. An e-mail message doesn’t count. It must be a handwritten note, placed in an envelope and sent through the regular mail. The day following dinner and dancing with Natalie, Josh penned the following note: Dear Natalie, How unexpected it was for you to buy me dinner last night. I want you to know how much I appreciate it—you certainly didn’t need to do it. The food was excellent, the conversation interesting, and, although my dance steps need some work, I don’t recall when I had so much fun. Thank you again. Next time it’s my turn. Sincerely, Josh He folded the message, placed it in an envelope, and then realized that he didn’t know Natalie’s home address. He wrote her DNR office address on the envelope and then wrote personal across the bottom. He hoped some office worker wouldn’t slit open the envelope and cause Natalie some embarrassment. But at this point, he really didn’t care. He had a great time and he wanted her to know it. Those who’ve lived in Wisconsin know that November is usually the transition month from fall to winter, no matter that the calendar says winter 87 Ice Fishing doesn’t begin until December 21. By Thanksgiving week, when the annual deer hunting season rolled around, the first snow had usually arrived and daytime high temperatures struggled to reach the high twenties. This November, several nights in a row area thermometers showed zero degrees, which meant the smaller lakes had frozen over, as had the backwaters of the Tamarack River. Josh wanted to ask Natalie out for dinner, but he knew that deer hunting season was one of the busiest times of the year, so he did not contact her. He was pleased that her work had made the lead story of the Milwaukee Journal Sentinel: Conservation Warden Nabs Hunter with Fake Deer Natalie Karlsen, Ames County DNR warden, arrested Joe Zims of rural Link Lake for firing a deer rifle while standing on a county road. State law requires hunters to be a minimum of 50 feet from the center of a public road before firing their weapons. Warden Karlsen had placed a battery-operated, ten-point-buck replica that she calls “Freddy” alongside a well-traveled road. “People just don’t learn,” she said. “Freddy has so many bullet holes in him the patches covering bullet holes have patches on them. Every year I arrest several hunters for shooting poor Freddy.” The week after deer season, when the hullabaloo about how many deer were shot in the state and why the DNR wasn’t doing a better job of managing the deer herd had subsided a bit, Josh’s phone rang. “Farm Country News, Wittmore,” Josh answered. “This is Natalie.” “Natalie, how are you?” “Surviving.” “Say, I saw your Freddy story in the paper. Good one.” Josh heard Natalie chuckling. “The reason I called is, I was wondering if you’d like to do a ride-along—come with me tomorrow afternoon while I check some fishing 88 Ice Fishing licenses. I’m going over to the Tamarack River. It might be a chance for you get another Tamarack River story.” Josh glanced at his calendar. “Sure, what time?” “How about I pick you up at your office at 1:30? I’ll have my truck.” How different Natalie looked when she was in uniform! And she was different. Josh looked for a hint of the attractive young woman who’d bought him dinner and who had snuggled up to him when they danced. This Natalie, this woman with a pistol on her belt, was all business. “What’s this?” Josh asked when he climbed into the pickup. He saw a leather-bound book lying on the seat. He picked it up. “Oh, sorry,” Natalie said as she took the journal from Josh and stuffed it in the glove compartment. “It’s just my journal.” “You keep a journal?” “I try to. I don’t have a whole lot of time to write what I want to write.” “I’ve got the same problem,” said Josh. “What I write is for the paper— seldom do I have time to...