Tamarack River Ghost by Jerry Apps

pigs, though. Always made some money selling pork. Yes, I did. ’Specially during the war. Made lots of money on my pigs then. Paid off my mortgage. Yup, that’s what I did. Paid off my mortgage with those fifty hogs I sent to market every year.”
    “Well, what should we do about it?” asked Fred.
    “About what?”
    “About all them pigs coming to our neighborhood. Paper made it sound like the deal was all signed, sealed, and delivered,” said Fred.
    “Paper did say that, but we can still raise a little hell, put up a little stink of our own. That is, if we want to. They gotta hold some meetings,tell us their plans. They gotta get permits from the DNR, gotta get the zoning changed. They can’t just come in here willy-nilly and plunk down a bunch of stinkin’ pigs without first jumpin’ through a few hoops,” said Oscar.
    “Think it would help if we raised a little ruckus?” asked Fred.
    “Won’t hurt. Gotta do something to keep the Tamarack River Valley from going to hell. Been a good place to live. Good place to farm, too. Don’t think we need any of these big operators comin’ in and changing ever’thin’. Don’t believe we do.”
    “I agree with you there,” said Fred. Costandina came by with coffee refills as the two old friends munched on their big morning buns.
    “Too damn bad we’re still livin’ to see all this stuff goin’ on. Too damn bad,” mused Fred.
    “That sure ain’t no way to be thinkin’, Fred. No way at all. We gotta let folks know about this. Put in our two cents’ worth.”
    “Don’t think it will help one damn bit.”
    “Well, we can still give her a try. Let the big shots know that old codgers don’t just roll over when some big-assed new idea comes floatin’ along. We gotta stand up for what’s right, which means letting them know that this place has a history. Ain’t just some bankrupt golf course on the river,” Oscar said.
    “Yeah, lots of history in the valley, that’s for sure. Wonder if these big shots know about the cemetery in the corner of the golf course, the one where the Dunn family is buried? Wonder if they know that?” asked Fred.
    “Expect they don’t. And I’ll bet these guys wearing their fancy suits don’t know about the Tamarack River Ghost either. They get their operation up and going, they’ll find out right quick, I’ll bet.”
    “That they will. That they will,” said Fred. “I heard that’s why that big fancy golf course with its fancy houses went under. Some of them folks said they heard the ghost dog’s bell tinkling on quiet nights. One fellow, he’d just bought one of the biggest log condos, and was spending his first night there when he heard singing coming from the river. Somebody told him he’d heard the ghost. Scared the hell out of him. He never spent another night there.”
    “Wonder who’s gonna tell these fancy hog company people that there’s a ghost hanging around this river. Wonder who that’s gonna be,” pondered Oscar.
    “Also kind of wonder what effect a big hog farm is gonna have on Tamarack Corners,” mused Fred. “Just got this old supper club all fixed up and doin’ good. Wonder what that pig smell is gonna do to Christo’s business.”
    “Wonder that, too,” said Oscar. “Tamarack Corners ain’t changed a whole lot since we was kids, has it? Always had the Methodist church across the road. Always had the Tamarack Trading Post with the barbershop in back. Barber only works three days a week, but he’s still there. Yup, be a shame to see these places disappear because of the smell of pig manure and hog trucks clogging up the road. Dirty damn shame. Hardly know what folks would do without the Trading Post—they’d have to traipse way off to Willow River to buy a quart of milk or a six-pack of Leinenkugel’s. Same for the barbershop. Who wants to drive fifteen miles for a haircut? Nobody. Not one person.”

13. Dinner Date
    A conservation warden’s job can be a lonely one, even more so