The goose left a wake in its path as it skidded across the water. Its feet carved cleanly through it, but its wings beat either side into frothy carnage. Its head was sleek and black; the white scars along its beak stood out against the morning glimmer. Al looked away from the TV, and back at the model ship on the coffee table. He carefully shifted its front sail and dabbed the boom with superglue. As he peered back at the nature program over his glasses, his phone vibrated on the table. He reached down with his free hand and answered the call.

“Yeah?”

“Hey, Al. I know it’s your day off, but we could use your help with something.”

Al looked down at his watch – 11:45 am. He gently removed his fingers from the boom; it stayed in place, “Yeah, Debbie. What’d you need?”

“Well, we’ve just had a few calls from around the tracks. Some kind of a suspicious person hanging around down there,” she paused briefly before continuing, “the other boys are out on calls already.”

“Suspicious, how?” He stood up and walked across the room to grab his coat.

“I don’t know, really. Just some guy. Do you mind heading over to check it out?”

“Yeah, I’m on my way. Whereabouts on the track?” He grabbed his keys and opened the front door.

“Down by Griffin’s, somewhere between the intersection and the yard.”

“Thanks, Debbie.”

--

Al started the engine and rubbed his hands together. Winter was greedy up here; it came early, and always overstayed its welcome. He pulled out of his driveway and onto the road – a strip of dirt that split the unending canola field and a similar wall of pines. Whatever gravel had once protected it was long gone now; flung roadside by ATV’s and pickup trucks.

Saley Ridge was at the intersection of three great wildernesses. To the west lay prairie grasslands, to the north was arctic tundra, and the east was covered in slabs of metamorphic rock – rock that had hardened over years of intense pressure – which sprawled nearly eight million square kilometers. The Boreal Forest stretched over, or around, all of this. The town of Saley Ridge used to be big enough to have its own force, but when the industry died off, the RCMP took over. He was grandfathered in, along with a few others, who had since retired.

Griffin’s was a gas station and gun store, owned by the Griffin brothers. He pulled into the parking lot and entered the store.

“Hey, Al. Beautiful day.”

“Little brisk, though.”

Rylan, the older brother, leaned on the counter, “What can I get you today?”

“I’m out on a call. Suspicious man on the tracks, just up between here and the yard. Wondered if you knew anything.”

Rylan shook his head, “Wouldn’t know anything about that kinda thing.”

“Thought you might have called it in. There were a couple calls.” Al reached beneath the counter and grabbed a chocolate bar. He dropped a toonie on the countertop.

“Not me, no.” He handed Al his change, “You think he’s got eyes to hurt himself down there?”

“You never know. Little brisk to be catchin’ butterflies.”

“Let me know how it goes down there, Al.”

Al left the store. He stopped at the intersection of the tracks and guided his car to the side of the road.  Another car - an old Toyota - sat a few feet away beside the ditch. Al took note of the plate, then began to walk along the tracks towards the yard.

It didn’t take long to see the man. He sat on a stack of steel bar, smoking a cigarette. Despite the cold, he only had a shirt and tie on. His jacket hung beside him. The man didn’t look up until Al was about a meter away. He was clean shaven, and looked relaxed.

Al rested his foot on the track. He wasn’t sure how to handle this yet. “How’re you doing today?”

The man shrugged, “Not bad.”

“What are you doing down here?” Al looked up the rail line towards the yard, and then back the way he came.

“Just sitting around, watching the trains when they come through.”

“They’re not very frequent, buddy. It’s pretty cold out here, why don’t you come back to the road with me?”

The man shook his head, “I don’t mind the cold.”

Brown leaves drifted across the tracks. Al pushed his hands deeper into his pockets, “That your car parked back up there?”

“Yeah,” he paused, “well, my folks.”

“Your folks around here too, then?”

“Just me.”

He seemed harmless, but there was something about his answers that annoyed Al. He pulled out his notepad, “What’s your name, bud?”

The man reached into his pocket and pulled out his wallet. “Dan.”

Al looked at his license, “Hiebert, eh? You any relation to Carl Hiebert?”

“No, I don’t think so. I’m from Pine Falls.”

“Live up there with your folks?” He handed the license back to Dan.

“Yeah, got laid off a few months ago.”

“You’re not married then?”

“No, never took that road.”

“Smart man,” said Al.

Dan smiled, but said nothing. Al felt awkward. A freight train rattled in the distance. “What are you doing out here then, being from Pine Falls?”

“I had a job interview.”

Al sat down on the steel beside him, “What kind of work is it you’re lookin’ for?”

“It was at the mine. Clerk work, I guess. They didn’t think I was experienced enough, though.” He stopped and looked closely at Al, “I worked at the pulp plant for fifteen years. Got promoted to supervisor less than a week before they laid us all off.”

A deer stepped out of the trees across from the two men, just a little down the tracks. It made its way carefully towards the gravel. As it approached the rail line, it stopped and nuzzled the grass with its nose. An eagle swept through the sky, well above the treeline.

“Why don’t you head back home, then? If the interview’s over.”

“I drove all the way out here for it, so I figured I’d take my time before heading back. Anyway, I don’t want the folks to think I’ve given up, eh? No need to worry them by coming home early.”

“I know a few people at the mine, maybe I can put in a word or two.” Al said. He paused, but Dan just smiled, so he kept talking, “Suppose it’s a nice day to be out here, isn’t it? Little fresh air can’t do you any harm.”

“Beautiful. Had a book with me, but I finished it.”

Wind gusted through the half bare trees; Al took a look at the bag between Dan’s feet. “Oh yeah? What’ve you been reading?”

“Ivan Ilych.” Dan reached for his bag, but stopped short.

“That a name or a book?”

“Both, I guess. It’s by Tolstoy.”

“Oh, yeah? I’ve got a little boat called Karenina. Just a model. Never read it, but I always thought it sounded nice.”

Dan looked up. “I’ve always wanted to try that. The models, I mean. I’d have done the trains though; my grandfather used to do those. The track and everything.”

“Worth looking into, if you have the patience for it.” Al flicked at a bug on his sleeve. Crows peppered the treeline across from him. “How was it, anyway?”

Dan coughed, “What’s that?”

“Your book.”

“Oh, good, I liked it. No surprises. You know what’s going to happen from the start.”

“Maybe I’ll read it some day.” Al wasn’t much of a reader, but he meant it.

“It’s short, but it can be a little tedious. Worth it though, if you have the patience.”

Al smiled and stood up, “Well, look, you’re a good guy, I know you’re not up to any trouble. Thing is, we’ve had a few calls. So why don’t you head down to the restaurant for a little while instead? Grab a coffee and a sandwich or something.”

“If it’s all the same, I like it out here.”

Al paused, he thought of offering to buy him lunch, but didn’t want to embarrass him. “Alright, let me just call in and we’ll see what’s going on.”

He took a few steps away and called the station. The plate, and Dan’s record, were clean. Dan smiled as he approached this time; Al extended his hand, and Dan shook it.

“Good luck with the job there, buddy. I really will put in a good word for you. I’m serious about that.”

Dan nodded again, “I appreciate it.”

Al started to walk away, then stopped short and faced Dan again, “Sit out here long enough, and you might just see the last of those leaves fall,” he gestured across the track as he turned away.

---

Al pulled back onto the road. He waved as he passed Griffin’s, just in case Rylan was looking out the window. A stray piece of gravel jumped from beneath his tire and slapped the truck’s door. His wheels stirred up a cloud of dust. He turned past the canola field and took the road through the forest. The pine trees stayed green all year round. He turned up the heat, and tried to think of the last time he’d been in Pine Falls. Moss covered shield jutted from the treeline. His phone vibrated in the cup holder.

“Hey, Debbie. I’m on my way in.”

Her response was delayed, “Al, look,” she paused again, “I’m really sorry.”

Al took his foot from the gas and let the truck coast to the side of the road, next to the bulging rock formations, “What for?” he asked.