Page 5 of A Joyful Ring
“Just that you drive a load from here to Baker City, then pick up a load of supplies and bring it back.”
Mr. Hoffman scoffed. “Well, that might be simplifying things a bit much, but that is the basic duty of the job.”
Gunder didn’t know what to say, so he remained silent.
“Come on. The wagon is loaded, and it’s going to be a long day. Let’s go.” Mr. Hoffman swung up to the high seat with practiced ease and already had the lines to the team in his hands by the time Gunder tucked his pack beneath the seat and climbed up.
After riding with Charlie, Gunder was familiar with the workings of a freight wagon and grateful for the knowledge.
Both he and Mr. Hoffman were silent as the team leaned into the harness and the wagon creaked forward. Rather than the horses Gunder had expected to see harnessed, there were eight sturdy mules pulling the wagon.
“You ever work with mules?” Mr. Hoffman asked when the wagon had topped the rise heading away from town.
“No, sir. I’ve spent the past few weeks getting familiar with driving a team of horses and a freight wagon, but not mules.”
“Mr. Goodwin said you worked at a livery in Pittsburgh. That right?” Mr. Hoffman asked.
“Yes, sir. I worked there for eight years. I needed a job when I finished my schooling, and that was the first one I found, cleaning the stalls. Then I started learning about horses. Some of the horse owners rarely came to visit, and their animals needed to be exercised. That was something I loved to do—riding the horses. It was a good job.”
“Why’d you leave?” Mr. Hoffman asked, giving him a curious glance as spears of sunlight began to stretch across the sky.
Gunder glanced back, awed to see the golden orb rising on the horizon. He turned his attention to the man beside him. Lars Hoffman was older than he originally thought, but appeared fit and healthy, if not a little worn down by life.
“I didn’t want to spend my whole life mucking stalls and riding rich people’s horses. I’d like to have my own horse to ride someday,” Gunder answered honestly.
“That so.” Mr. Hoffman’s words were astatement, not a question. “It’s good to have dreams and seek to better oneself. Why did you pick Lovely?”
“I saw an ad in an old newspaper and figured it seemed like as good a place as any to find my fortune and future.”
Mr. Hoffman smirked. “It’s the stupidest, most unlikely name for such a sad and pathetic town. Maybe someday it will live up to its name, but I doubt it happens in my lifetime.”
“Maybe Lovely will surprise everyone.”
“Maybe so. And maybe the mules will sprout wings and fly us to Baker City.”
Gunder chuckled. “Maybe so.”
Mr. Hoffman reached into the box of food between them and handed Gunder a thick ham sandwich. “Eat up. When you’re finished, you can show me if you have even the slightest skill at driving a team.”
“Yes, sir. Thank you, Mr. Hoffman.” Gunder took the sandwich the man held out to him.
“Call me Lars. Since we’ll be spending the entirety of this day together, you might as well call me Lars.”
“Thank you, sir. Lars, I mean.”
The man lifted a sandwich from the box and bit into it, somehow holding all the lines with one hand and eating with the other. Between bites, Lars asked Gunder questions.
“Gunder Birke isn’t a name you hear every day. Where are you from?”
“Pittsburgh.” Gunder offered the man a cheeky grin.
Lars eyed him a moment, then smirked. “Where did your family originate from, prior to settling in Pittsburgh?”
“Sweden. My parents were both born there. They came to America a year before I was born. They didn’t care for New York City, so they made their way to Pittsburgh. It’s where my sisters and I were born.”
“How many sisters do you have?”
Gunder brushed the crumbs from his hands and swallowed the last bite of his sandwich. “Two. Both younger. Amalia is seventeen and thinks she is quite grown up. Anna is fourteen and very much the baby of the family. They’re nice, sweet girls.”
