Page 3 of A Joyful Ring
“Thank you, Mr. Goodwin. Where should I report in the morning, and what time?”
“Be ready to go at five. I’ll let Lars know to watch for you. The freight wagons are loaded over there.” Mr. Goodwin pointed to a spot at the base of the hill. “You can meet him there, but don’t be late.”
“Thank you, Mr. Goodwin.”
“Don’t thank me yet. You still need to prove you’re worth hiring.” The man grinned again and slapped him on the shoulder. “If you’re hungry, thecookhouse serves supper at six. I’ll let the cook know to make an extra lunch for you and give it to Lars in the morning.”
“Thank you, sir.” Gunder tipped his head and hustled down the steps until he was back on the road. He glanced at the tents as he walked past them. Most had the sides rolled up to allow air to blow beneath the thick canvas. The furnishings varied, but most of them held a small cot for a bed. Some had a chair. Others had stacked crates that were used for tables or storage. A few even had small stoves.
While the heat was certainly not needed now, he could only imagine the necessity of the stoves when cold weather set in. One thing Gunder hated was to be cold. Once his feet got cold, the rest of him quickly followed. If he did end up staying in the homely town of Lovely, he’d have to start saving his money for a stove, boots that would keep his feet dry, and more clothes than the two shirts and pair of pants he had in his pack.
He’d hoped to earn enough money that he could send some back to his folks every month or two, but would that be the case? Although he was willing to do most any type of job, Gunder preferred working out in the clean air instead of inside the mountain digging out ore. If he did get the job, he wanted to learn all about the process of mining. One thing he’d always possessed was an inquisitive mind. It was why Mr. Adamson had taught him every aspect of his livery business instead of leaving him to shovel out the stalls every day.
When Gunder reached the last tent on the leftside of the road, he folded back the flap and looked inside. There was a newer-looking cot and an apple crate turned on its side with an empty tin candleholder beside it. Since it was summer, a candle likely wouldn’t be necessary for a few months, but Gunder added candles, or perhaps a kerosene lamp, to the growing list of things he needed to purchase.
Fearful of someone stealing his pack if he left it in the tent, he kept it with him as he turned and followed the road into town. He walked the length of Lovely, noticing the rickety shacks that were on the outskirts closest to the miners’ tent city. One shack sat apart from the others with a barn and a few outbuildings around it. If he weren’t mistaken, he could hear chickens clucking.
Raucous music being played on an out-of-tune piano in the saloon drifted out to assault his ears. He read the sign painted on the window that advertised drinks, cards, and girls.
Gunder had no interest in anything the saloon offered and kept walking. He made his way past an assayer’s office, a doctor’s office, and a general store with a sign indicating the post office was located inside. A few larger houses were on the north end of town, along with a church that stood tall and proud, the paint gleaming white against the backdrop of blue sky, green grass, and trees behind it.
Surprised to see anything green, Gunder walked behind the church to discover a river running there. On either side of it, trees, bushes, and grass made it look like an oasis in a forgottendesert.
Gunder swung off his pack, dropped to his knees, and dipped his hands in the crisp, cool water. He washed his hands and face, then drank until he was no longer thirsty. Suddenly eager to be clean, he walked another hundred yards along the river, following it around the curve of the hills until he was shielded from sight of the town, then stripped out of his filthy clothes and took a much-needed bath. The tiny sliver of soap his mother had sent along was used to scrub his clothes, and then remove the weeks and miles of dirt and sweat he carried.
Although the clothes in his pack were dusty from travel, at least they were mostly clean. Gunder pulled them on, finger-combed his hair, and hoped he looked and smelled better than he had upon his arrival.
He sat on a thick patch of grass in the shade of a cottonwood tree while his clothes dried. It didn’t take long in the summer heat. Gunder carefully folded them, returned them to his pack, and walked back into Lovely. He didn’t have a watch, but by the position of the sun, he figured he had about an hour before dinner would be served at the mine.
Gunder noticed the largest of the houses near the church had a “Boardinghouse” sign tacked to one of the porch posts. By far, the three-story house was the biggest building in town. He drew in a breath tinted with the scent of roasting meat and yeast, and his stomach growled in response.
Knowing he would get a meal soon, he stopped by the blacksmith shop. If things didn’t work out atthe mine, perhaps the blacksmith would have work for him.
“Howdy, stranger,” said a hulking man with a thatch of unruly dark hair on his head and smallpox scars on his face. He lowered the hoof of the horse he’d just been shoeing, then wiped his hand on the stained leather apron he wore. “What brings you to Lovely?”
“A job, I hope,” Gunder said, and shook the man’s hand. “I found a newspaper clipping about Lovely being a place to find your fortune and future. It mentioned plenty of jobs at the Juniper Point Mine, so here I am. I admit, the town is nothing like I expected.”
“No doubt you had a vision of a picturesque town with pretty little houses and flowers scenting the air.” The man snorted in disgust. “That load of poppycock is direct from the mine owner. He’s a little banty rooster if I’ve ever seen one. He rarely bothers to visit the mine, so count yourself lucky if you never meet Felix Newton. By the way, I’m Silas Evans, but my friends call me Si. It’s nice to meet you.”
“Gunder Birke. It’s good to meet you.” Gunder studied the horse Silas had been shoeing.
“You know anything about horses?” Silas asked as he brushed a hand along the neck of the gelding.
Gunder nodded. “I worked in a livery in Pittsburgh for eight years. I started out cleaning stalls, but I most enjoyed working with the horses. The majority of those boarded needed to be ridden often because their owners weren’t frequentvisitors.”
Silas nodded. “Things are a little different here. Most of my business is with my blacksmithing trade, and the occasional shoeing of a horse. Too bad I don’t have more work, or I’d be happy to give you a job.”
“Thank you, sir. That’s kind of you to say. I’m supposed to report for work at the mine in the morning at five.”
“Five?” Silas frowned. “You driving a freight wagon?”
“That was the job Mr. Goodwin offered. I’m supposed to ride with a man named Lars tomorrow to see if I’m capable of doing the work and want the position.”
“Lars is a good, solid man. Listen to what he tells you and you’ll get along all right, but be careful. Hauling freight, in my opinion, is the most dangerous job at the mine.”
Gunder had no idea how driving a loaded wagon into Baker City, unloading it, filling it with supplies, and driving it back could be dangerous. It seemed simple enough to him.
“There aren’t Indians on the warpath or something along those lines, are there?”
