Free A fine and bitter snow by Dana Stabenow Page A

another to intercept and confiscate the shipment of alcohol, hung up on the big game guide, and walked the fisherman through the application form.
     
    The next call was from his boss in Anchorage. "Hey, Jim, how's it hanging?"
     
    Jim sat back and put his feet up on his desk, there to admire the immaculate shine on his black leather boots. "About six inches from the floor," he replied.
     
    A scoffing laugh. "Yeah, you wish."
     
    "No, you do."
     
    There followed the traditional exchange of insults and exaggerations so dear to the hearts of the male of the species, particularly those who were longtime friends and allies in the war on crime. Finally, his boss said, "We've been doing some thinking down here, Jim."
     
    Uh-oh. "Thinking about what?"
     
    "About your workload."
     
    "What about it?"
     
    A genial chuckle. "It's kind of heavy, isn't it?"
     
    "So what else is new?"
     
    "Well, we were thinking of lightening it up a little."
     
    Jim took his feet off the desk and sat up to look at the map of the Park tacked to the wall behind his desk. "Define 'lightening up.' "
     
    Another chuckle. "Breaking a chunk off your post's area of jurisdiction, for starters."
     
    "What chunk?"
     
    "The southern half. From, say, Niniltna south."
     
    Fully half of his command. Which wouldn't do his career a hell of a lot of good. But then, he wasn't bucking for promotion anyway. He had no ambition to retire in Tal-keetna.
     
    On the other hand, he and his people were getting the job done. "What brought this on?"
     
    A sigh. "You know we've got these bean counters running around down here right now, looking over our shoulders."
     
    The Outside auditors the state had brought in. "I've heard."
     
    The chuckle was not quite as genial this time. "Yeah. They've seen the amount of reports you file, the case load. They're thinking you're overworked, and that it's going to cause problems down the road."
     
    "Why not just assign me another corporal?"
     
    "I suggested that."
     
    "And?"
     
    "They also looked at the response times. Hell, Jim, they've got a point. That's the hell of a lot of territory you people cover. Some of that territory is a long way from where you're sitting."
     
    Jim sat back and propped his feet on the windowsill this time, looking at the map of the Park. Niniltna was at its heart, when Ekaterina Moonin Shugak was still alive in more ways than one. Ahtna and Cordova were bigger, but Niniltna had the strong native association, with its solid leadership, and some legendary figures as shareholders. One in particular.
     
    It also had a 4,800-foot airstrip, long enough to land a jet on—a small one anyway. Always supposing any pilot worthy of the name would put anything other than a Here down on gravel. "Just as a matter of curiosity," Jim said, "have we got enough funding to create a new post?"
     
    "Yeah, right."
     
    A brief silence as Jim surveyed the map again. "Gene," he said, "are you satisfied with my work?"
     
    A snort this time. "If I wasn't, you would have heard so before now."
     
    "So if I come up with another way to set what passes for the bean counters' minds at ease, you'd listen to it?"
     
    "Hell yes. What is it?"
     
    "Give me a couple of days?" He waited.
     
    "Yeah," Gene said finally. "Okay."
     
    "One more thing."
     
    "What?"
     
    "You know Dan O'Brian?"
     
    A brief pause. Jim could hear the Rolodex between his boss's ears clicking. "Dan O'Brian. Right. Chief ranger your area. What about him?"
     
    "He mouthed off about drilling for oil in ANWR. They're trying to force him into retirement."
     
    "So? Should have kept his mouth shut."
     
    "Agreed, but otherwise he's a good man. We work well together. I'd hate to have to break in some newbie. Can you call somebody, make some noise?"
     
    "I can call several."
     
    "I owe you."
     
    "Maybe. Maybe not. We'll see after the next time we talk."
     
    "Gotcha," Jim said, grinning. He hung up, and grabbed his jacket and hat on his way out the