Page 7 of A Joyful Ring
“I did notice some of the shacks don’t appear overly sturdy.”
“That’s a nice way of saying they’re a mess, but those of us who live in them own the property outright, so that’s a good thing. Someday, we’ll have a nice house there. I’m saving all the money I can to make that happen for Risa.”
“Does your daughter stay with someone while you’re working?” Gunder asked, picturing a little girl with blonde braids, playing with a rag doll and waiting for her papa to come home.
“No, she’s older than you’re thinking. She works for Mrs. Baldwin at the boardinghouse. My Risa is a hard worker. Often, she works too hard, but she makes me proud.”
Gunder nodded, once again uncertain what to say as he studied Lars for a moment. While the man spoke clearly, there was just the slightest hint of an accent to his words. “Where are you from, originally?”
Lars grinned. “Noticed my accent, did you?”
Gunder nodded.
“Germany. My wife, Irma, and I came to America when Risa was three. We settled in a town in Iowa, where my wife’s uncle had opened a hotel and restaurant. I took care of the hotel, and Irma ran the restaurant. For many, many years, we were happy. We had four beautiful children and a comfortable home there at the hotel. We wanted to buy it from her uncle and were making plans when travelers brought cholera to the hotel. My wife and our three younger children died. Losing them brokeme in ways I can’t even put to words. My daughter barely survived and required care for what seemed like months. After I lost Irma and the children, I couldn’t stay there. When Risa was well enough to travel, we packed up everything that would fit in a wagon and wandered from town to town, from job to job. Two years ago, Risa told me she was thoroughly tired of having no place to call home. She showed me an advertisement she’d found for a new town in Oregon named Lovely. Like you, we had high expectations when we arrived. Only the town looked even worse then than it does now, if you can envision such a tragic picture.”
Gunder had trouble thinking the homely town could look worse, but if he took away the businesses and the few respectable houses as well as the church, leaving just shacks and tents, that picture was definitely shoddier than its current state.
“But you stayed,” Gunder observed.
“We stayed. Risa is close with Mrs. Baldwin at the boardinghouse. That poor woman. Like the rest of us, she and her husband saw the advertisement for Lovely and thought it would be a beautiful place to live out their golden years. They arrived and decided the town held potential and built a beautiful home, but Mr. Baldwin died two months after the house was finished from blood poisoning. Mrs. Baldwin says having boarders makes the big house seem less lonesome. My daughter helps her with the cooking and cleaning, and they enjoy each other’s company.”
“That’s good. Womenfolk need that feeling of connection.” Gunder had learned that fromwatching his mother and sisters.
“They do, indeed.”
Gunder held his breath as the mules calmly walked past a big snake as though it hadn’t shaken its rattles at them.
“Watch out for the rattlesnakes. A bite can kill a man if he gets enough venom in him. I’ve seen it happen,” Lars said, leaning toward Gunder to watch the snake disappear into the sagebrush.
“Charlie warned me about them. He’s a freighter who gave me a ride the last part of my journey and taught me about driving a team like this, although he had horses instead of mules.” Gunder cleared his throat, searching for a subject that didn’t involve slithering reptiles. “You mentioned the holiday tomorrow. Will the mine be closed?”
“Yes. No businesses will be open in Lovely tomorrow. Most of the miners will spend their time and all their money at the saloon in town, and those who have horses or mules to ride will head into Baker City tonight as soon as they finish their shift. For those who stay in town, the pastor will hold a brief service at the church, and a community picnic will follow that down by the river. Last year, the mine paid for fireworks for everyone to enjoy, but it’s too dry this year to chance a spark starting a fire.”
“That’s understandable.” Gunder liked the idea of a church service and community picnic, but he had no idea what he could contribute. He wasn’t much of a cook, and even if he were, he had nowhere to prepare anything. He’d have to look inBaker City, if they had a minute or two to spare, and see what he could find.
It was noon when they arrived in Baker City, or so Gunder assumed from the position of the sun overhead.
Lars hadn’t offered to take back the reins, but he provided directions to where the wagon would be unloaded.
It didn’t take long to empty their load. Lars drove the wagon to a livery stable where a smiling man shook hands with him and promised to feed and water the mules.
“They’ll need to rest an hour or two before we head back,” Lars said, placing a hand on Gunder’s shoulder. “I think we should eat lunch at the restaurant over there,”—he pointed to a place down the street—“then I’ll show you around Baker City.”
“That sounds fine, sir,” Gunder said, shoving his hand into his pocket and wondering how little he could spend on the meal. He figured he’d need every penny he had to purchase the supplies he was clearly going to need. His hands felt raw and sore from holding the lines. Charlie had let him borrow an extra pair of his gloves when he’d driven the wagon. Now he understood why Charlie had told him gloves were essential.
He followed Lars to a restaurant with blue-checked curtains at the open windows. The mouth-watering aromas drifting out to them made his stomach growl.
Lars laughed and thumped him on the shoulder. “Your belly sounds as empty as mine feels. Mrs. Thatcher is a fine cook. I’ve yet to eat anything herethat wasn’t delicious.”
They took seats at a table by an open window where the breeze blew past them. Even though the air was hot, it was better than no breeze at all.
Gunder read the menu that was on the table and concluded he’d have to make do with a simple bowl of soup.
“Decide on something?” Lars asked as he drained the glass of water that a matronly woman had set in front of him.
“Soup, I suppose.”
“Soup? On a blistering day like this?” Lars shook his head. “You need more than soup, son.” Lars leaned closer to him. “Besides, Goodwin said Juniper Point Mine is buying our lunches today since we’re making the round trip.”
