Chapter Two
Gunder awoke with a start and hopped up, disoriented by the unfamiliar surroundings.
Dizziness swarmed him at standing too quickly, so he widened his stance to brace himself until the feeling passed.
Breathing deeply, he waited until he felt steady to grab his hat and pack, then rushed out of the tent.
Sunrise had yet to arrive, but the sky was beginning to lighten. He had no idea what time it was and decided a watch might prove to be a prudent purchase.
There was enough light with dawn approaching that he easily found his way to the area Mr. Goodwin had indicated yesterday afternoon without stumbling over his feet in the dark.
Gunder arrived to find the cook laughing at something a lean man with hair nearly as blond as his own said. The man thumped Jed on the back and set a box on the high wagon seat.
“Don’t be too hard on the kid on his first day,” Jed said, then hurried back across the road to the cookshack.
“Morning,” the man said, eyeing Gunder as he approached.
Gunder smiled and held out his hand. “You must be Mr. Hoffman,” he said, grateful his sleepy brain had been able to catch the man’s name. Then again, he’d repeated it to himself multiple times yesterday, so he wouldn’t forget it. “I’m Gunder Birke.”
Mr. Hoffman shook his hand. “Nice to meet you. Mr. Goodwin said I’d have someone riding along today. He tell you about the job?”
“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 a statement, 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.”
“That’s good. How about your father? Does he work at a livery?”
“No. Steel mill. He never complains because the job has kept a roof over our heads all these years, but I know he hates it. My mother takes in mending and sometimes special sewing projects. Amalia and Anna both help her.”
“It’s good they are learning a useful trade.
” Lars ate the last bite of his sandwich, then pulled a jar of brown liquid from the box and held it out to Gunder.
“It’s sweet tea. I don’t care for coffee all that much, especially in the summer.
Jed makes the tea at my request and packs it in my lunch, so don’t go sharing that secret with anyone. ”
“I won’t, sir.” Gunder accepted the jar, removed the lid, and took a tentative sip. He’d never tasted sweet tea, but found he liked both the flavor and the fact that it was relatively cool. He took a longer drink, then held the jar out to Lars. “That’s tasty. And cold.”
“Jed has a little springhouse at the river where he stores things. It’s hard to keep anything from spoiling plumb rotten in this heat, but he tries.” Lars took a drink that drained half the jar of tea before he handed it back to Gunder.
After another sip, Gunder screwed on the lid and returned the jar to the box.
“Normally, a trip to Baker City is a two-day trip. The regular schedule is to leave at seven from the mine, unload when we arrive in Baker City, load the wagon, and spend the night there. It gives the team time to rest before we head back with the supplies we’re picking up. ” Lars held the lines out to Gunder.
Carefully taking them so they didn’t tangle, Gunder added a pair of gloves to his growing shopping list as the leather straps cut into his skin.
“Keep the lines in your left hand a little tighter, and loosen up on the right,” Lars instructed, then leaned back in the seat.
“Since tomorrow is a holiday, we’re making the full trip today, which is why we got such an early start.
We’re picking up a load of provisions at the general store, so it will be a light load back.
Once a week, we pick up food supplies, usually on Tuesdays.
Other days, we might haul timbers for shoring up inside the mine tunnels, or equipment for processing the ore.
That’s all fine and dandy. It’s the days we’re hauling the explosives that things can get a little … concerning.”
“Explosives?” Gunder asked, so shocked by the thought he subconsciously hauled back on the lines.
Lars motioned for him to relax his tight hold, and the mules continued plodding forward. Each step sent up plumes of dust that swirled into the air, colliding with the golden light of the fresh summer morning.
“Explosives?” Gunder questioned in a slightly calmer tone.
“I was correct in assuming Goodwin didn’t fill you in on all the joys of this job.
” Lars sighed and leaned back again. “I’ll give it to you in a straight line, Gunder.
Driving the wagon to Baker City isn’t generally a hard or difficult task.
There are times in the spring when melting snow and pelting rain turn the road to muck, and you have to stop every so often to remove the mud from the wheels.
In the winter, when it’s icy, you have to be careful on the hills.
Other than that, driving the wagon is simple.
You just have to pay attention and keep your guard up.
I’ve only had outlaws ride up on me once.
When they discovered I wasn’t hauling gold, they rode off without saying another word. ”
Gunder couldn’t imagine calmly sitting on the wagon while outlaws had guns pointed in his face.
He’d never held a gun and didn’t even know how to shoot one if he had to, but since Lars wore a gun belt around his hips and had a rifle within reach, Gunder assumed it was part of the job to travel armed, which made sense.
“That doesn’t sound so bad,” he said, hoping his voice didn’t convey his concerns over the job.
“It’s not. The return trips are where things get tricky.
Like I mentioned, when we’re hauling food supplies or equipment, or even timber or lumber, it’s a smooth trip for the most part.
But explosives are part of life in a mine.
There are employees who do nothing but handle the explosives.
I wouldn’t want their jobs, and I’m sure they wouldn’t want mine, which is why Mr. Goodwin was practically giddy when he told me you were interested in being a freighter. ”