Page 42 of A Joyful Ring
After the kiss the other night that had nearly melted the boots right off his feet, he’d wanted to confess his feelings and plead with Risa to wait for him. To wait for the future they could have together as soon as he saved enough money to buy a piece of land and build a shack for them.
Instead, he’d come back from his trip to Baker City to find her gone and everyone tight-lipped about her location.
When he’d gone to question Mrs. Baldwin again, Gunder had enjoyed meeting the woman’s niece. Candi Westcott was a refreshing surprise, living up to her name. She might appear to be a delicate, expensive confection, but there was more substance to Candi than her fine frippery and flirtatious smiles. She was intelligent and kind, and it was clear she doted on her aunt.
Also, Gloria had hinted that she’d heard Candi was quite taken with Mr. Stanton at the livery near the stagecoach office. If that were the case, Gunder wished them both a lifetime of happiness and an opportunity to be together.
In the past few days, he’d realized being with the one you love was the most important thing, and the one he loved more than anything in the worldwas Risa.
He missed her laughter and easy smile. He missed the light that glowed in her blue eyes when she looked up and saw him watching her. He missed the sunlight creating a halo around her golden head. He missed her strength of character and her incredible wit, and the warmth that enveloped him when he was with her.
Gunder sighed. Who was he trying to fool? He missed everything about her. Everything. He had no idea how he’d survive until she returned, whenever it might be. Lars would only say he was sure she’d be back in Lovely by Christmas. If she weren’t, Gunder had concluded he’d beg Lars until he told him where she was and go to her.
He hoped it wouldn’t come to that, though.
Eager to finish his work, Gunder drove to the mine and waited as the explosives he’d hauled were unloaded from the wagon. The moment the last case was out of the back, he drove over to the barn, saw to the mules, then headed straight to the Hoffman house.
It was impossible to think of it as a shack when he’d experienced so many happy moments there. Besides, it was the place where the love of his life resided. At least when she wasn’t off visiting a friend whom no one would talk about.
Gunder noticed the house looked different without the screen doors and screens over the windows he’d helped Lars store in the barn until spring. He rapped sharply on the front door, waited a moment, and knocked again.
Lars answered the door, not seeming the leastbit surprised to see him. “You’re back early today,” he said, stepping out of the way so Gunder could walk inside the warmth of the house.
The other shacks Gunder had been in were miserable drafty places only slightly better than living in a tent, and some not quite that good.
Not so with the Hoffman home. Lars had done a good job of sealing cracks. The floor was made of wood, and solid. The window let in welcome light as well as air in the summer, and the painted walls made it seem much more like a house than a looming disaster.
“The road was frozen, and it made the trip go a little faster. I also had an extra team of mules pulling because Mr. Goodwin was in a rush for the delivery.”
Lars nodded as he walked over to the stove and poured two cups of coffee from the steaming pot. “Did I hear you had explosives to haul today?”
Gunder nodded as he removed his hat, coat, and scarf, then left them on pegs by the door, along with the pack he carried. He turned and accepted the cup Lars held out to him. “Yes. They wanted an extra load to get through the rock they’ve had so much trouble blasting past this week. I’m always relieved when that last case is unloaded and I drive the mules to the barn in one piece.”
No matter how many times he’d made the trip back from Baker City with explosives, Gunder didn’t think he’d ever grow accustomed to it. His nerves were strung tight every time he hauled a load, and relief always washed over him when he could walk away from the mine for the eveningknowing he’d survived another dangerous trip.
“I know exactly what you mean,” Lars said, taking a seat at the dining table.
Gunder pulled a chair closer to the stove and sank onto it. Now that he was here with Lars, he wasn’t sure what to say. How did you ask a man who adored his daughter to allow someone not worthy of her for her hand in marriage? Or at least ask permission to make a promise to her about their future?
Loudly clearing his throat, Gunder decided to be blunt and honest. “Sir, I wanted to speak with you about—”
“No.” Lars cut him off with a dark expression and his tone one of warning.
“Sir?” Gunder gave him a questioning look, confused.
“No, Gunder. The answer is no.” Lars took a long sip of his coffee before setting the mug on the table. “You only call mesirwhen it involves Risa. And if you’re about to cobble together enough courage to ask what I think you’re thinking about asking, the answer is going to be no.”
Gunder opened his mouth and shut it twice before he could get his brain and tongue to work together. “You are denying permission for me to marry her?” he asked, both shocked and indignant. Lars was more to him than just a coworker. He’d been a friend and father figure, as well as a bit of a hero, when Gunder had learned of the things Lars had done to protect the wagon he drove and the daughter he cherished.
“I am, Gunder. If any other dunderhead haddared come here intent on asking to marry my daughter, I’d likely shoot them first and ask questions later. Do you think I want my little girl living in a tent with all those leering miners around? I’ve done everything short of challenging those idiots to duels to keep them away from her, and you plan to drag her there as a bride in the middle of one of the coldest winters I’ve endured? I won’t stand for it!” Lars smacked his fist on the table for emphasis.
“I … it’s not … that isn’t …” Gunder spluttered, doing his best to keep his own temper from exploding. The two of them shouting at each other wouldn’t accomplish anything. He drew in a few deep breaths before continuing. “I do want to marry Risa. Someday. Not right now. Not even this winter. I wanted your permission to give her a promise ring.”
“A what?” Lars asked, still scowling at him, but looking slightly less ferocious.
“Promise ring. It’s a ring given along with a promise of intentions, like a knot that isn’t quite fully tied, but will be one day.”
Lars sat back, the scowl not quite as deep. “And what are your intentions?”
