Page 30 of A Joyful Ring
Gunder moved the apple crate he used as a table closer to where he sat by the little stove in his tent, trying to get warm after his drive back to Lovely from Baker City and then being outside as he melted the silver. His feet felt half frozen, but they were starting to thaw. He adjusted the wick on his lamp so it burned a little brighter, then set about the task of repairing a broken clasp on a delicate bracelet.
It was a finely made piece, and the craftsman had done a splendid job creating it, but Gloria’s neighbor had brought it over last night and askedhim to fix it after her six-year-old clubbed the clasp with a mallet.
Gunder had just finished the repair when he heard a feminine voice outside his tent. He rolled his eyes and considered pretending not to be there, but the brazen girl would likely stick her head in his tent anyway.
Maybelle Dutton and her family had moved to Lovely at the end of October and the seventeen-year-old girl had set her cap for Gunder. She hadn’t yet accepted the notion he was not interested in her. Not even a little bit.
She’d become a nuisance he did his best to avoid. Pastor Thomas had nearly laughed Sunday morning when Gunder had timed his arrival for the service so he could dash inside and take a seat between Risa and Lars on the pew they always occupied. He’d been rushing up the aisle at the church, when Maybelle had grabbed his arm and tried to force him to sit beside her.
Heedless of the fact that he half-dragged her across the church, he’d plunked into the seat between the Hoffmans while everyone had done their best to hold back their amusement.
Maybelle seemed to view church services as an opportunity to wedge herself into Gunder’s presence, regardless of how much he was against it. Lars had taken pity on Gunder after the first Sunday when Maybelle had practically shoved him into the pew with her family, and he’d suggested Gunder plan to sit between him and Risa until Maybelle found someone new to pester.
The problem was the girl seemed as dense asthe fog Gunder had driven through on his way to Baker City yesterday. If he and the team hadn’t known the road so well, goodness only knew where he might have ended up. So far, it hadn’t been too bad driving the freight wagon through the snow, but Lars had warned him when the snow was several feet deep and grooves were worn into the road, it made traveling more of a challenge.
Silas Evans had a shiny black sleigh at the livery he’d offered to let Gunder borrow if he wanted to take Risa for a ride some Sunday afternoon. Although he’d been sorely tempted to do it, he figured until Maybelle turned her attention elsewhere, it was best not to give her any ideas, or place Risa in the girl’s sights as a target for the hostility and sharp tongue he’d noticed she possessed. Maybelle might be outwardly attractive with an abundance of brown curls and big brown eyes, but Gunder wasn’t interested.
Besides, he thought kindness and a good heart mattered more than a fair face, although he found Risa to be both sweet and lovely. He hoped if he ever worked up the courage to share his feelings with her, Risa wouldn’t blacken his eye.
Mentioning the wordlovely, at least when referring to the town, indicated something that was far from beautiful.
Gunder decided he’d been living here long enough that Lovely was growing on him. On the nights he stayed at Mrs. Franklin’s place in Baker City, he missed being here. He wasn’t sure how much of that was the town beginning to feel like home or his home being wherever Risa resided.
“Mr. Birke!” Maybelle screeched loud enough to splinter glass.
Gunder set his tools aside, wiped his hands on the legs of his trousers, and tossed back the flap of his tent. Quickly, he stepped outside and pulled the flap closed before Maybelle could do so much as cast a glance inside. He wouldn’t put it past her to snoop in his tent when he was gone and the other men were working in the mine. He’d moved the bell and brooch that were such a big part of his heritage to the bank in Baker City, where he kept a good portion of his earnings, so at least no one could pilfer them if they happened to find his hidden hole beneath his cot. He’d piled a few crates beneath his cot, mostly filled with wood so the pieces would be dry for burning in his fire pit outside, as well as in the little stove that kept his tent somewhat warm.
“Evening, Miss Dutton,” Gunder said as flat and expressionless as he could manage. Mr. Goodwin walked by on his way home and smirked, fully aware that Maybelle was attempting to cling to Gunder like a burr tangled in a Saint Bernard’s fur. Gunder nodded to his boss, wishing the man would call him over with some matter that needed to be discussed, only Mr. Goodwin silently hurried into town.
“My mother said I could invite you to supper tonight, Mr. Birke. Will you escort me back to my home and join us?” the girl asked, looking far too conniving for Gunder’s liking. If she’d been a mule, he would have led her back into the corral and chosen one with a less volatile temperament.
Gunder had to turn away and hide a laugh witha feigned cough as he envisioned the indignation that would alter Maybelle’s practiced smile if she knew he’d just compared her to an ornery, foul-tempered mule. He’d have to share that thought with Risa, though. She’d find it most amusing, since Maybelle had tilted her pug nose in the air and glowered down it at Risa the first Sunday they’d met.
“That’s very kind of your mother,” Gunder said, feeling sympathy for the poor woman who was burdened with not only Maybelle, but a husband who was exactly like the girl, at least from what Gunder had seen. Mr. Dutton had come to town boasting about his money and standing in society, but Gunder knew for a fact that he’d inquired about work all around town. Even Mr. Goodwin wouldn’t offer him a job, and he’d take just about any able-bodied man who was upright to work in the mine. “But I …” He didn’t want to lie, but he had no interest in spending the evening with Maybelle or her boasting father. “I, um …”
“Mr. Birke! There you are. Did you forget you promised to help me with the well this evening?” Risa asked as she marched up to him and placed a hand on his coat sleeve.
“That’s right,” he said, as relief flowed from his head all the way to his toes at Risa’s timely arrival. She must have heard part of the conversation as she approached them, although he hadn’t seen or heard her until she appeared out of the shadows that had settled over the camp. Gunder cast a quick glimpse at Maybelle. “I do appreciate the invitation, but I won’t be able to join you.”
“But we must walk her home, Mr. Birke. It’s too dark for anyone as fetching as Miss Dutton to be out alone.” Risa smiled brightly at Maybelle, then looped her arm around the girl’s and tugged her in the direction of town. “Hurry along, Mr. Birke. I’ll meet you by the well,” Risa called over her shoulder, then turned back to Maybelle. “Perhaps one day, Miss Dutton, you’ll share how you get your curls to glisten so beautifully. And your cheeks look as though they’ve been kissed by dewy-dipped roses.”
Gunder had to duck back into his tent and laugh into his pillow lest Maybelle hear him.
That Risa! Perhaps she should consider a career in the theater with the performance she’d delivered outside. Gunder added a piece of wood to his stove so the fire wouldn’t burn out before he returned, put away his repair tools and stuck them in the pack he still carried with him every time he drove a freight wagon to Baker City, and carefully tucked the bracelet into a small leather pouch he used to transport jewelry pieces. He retrieved the mold and his equipment from outside, then made sure his tent flap was secure and jogged along the snow-covered path to Risa’s house.
The outside of the Hoffmans’ shack might not have varied greatly from the other shacks in Lovely, but the inside was a warm, welcoming place that always made him feel at home.
He hurried around the house and over to the well that was covered by a three-sided lean-to. Risa leaned against the well and smiled at him as he approached.
“What dire disaster has befallen the well?” he asked.
“It seems the bucket fell in,” she said, and gave it a shove.
Gunder laughed and lunged forward, easily catching the rope and pulling the bucket out before it went down far enough to hit water.
He hung the bucket on the hook Lars had installed for that purpose, then slid the wooden cover back over the well. With the pump by the barn and the one at the kitchen sink, the well wasn’t often used for retrieving water by the bucketful, but it had made a good excuse for Gunder to turn down Maybelle’s invitation.
“Thank you for rescuing me,” Gunder whispered as he followed Risa out to the barn, mindful of the chores she needed to tend to.
