Chapter One #3
“No doubt you had a vision of a picturesque town with pretty little houses and flowers scenting the air.” The man snorted in disgust. “That load of poppycock is direct from the mine owner. He’s a little banty rooster if I’ve ever seen one.
He rarely bothers to visit the mine, so count yourself lucky if you never meet Felix Newton.
By the way, I’m Silas Evans, but my friends call me Si. It’s nice to meet you.”
“Gunder Birke. It’s good to meet you.” Gunder studied the horse Silas had been shoeing.
“You know anything about horses?” Silas asked as he brushed a hand along the neck of the gelding.
Gunder nodded. “I worked in a livery in Pittsburgh for eight years. I started out cleaning stalls, but I most enjoyed working with the horses. The majority of those boarded needed to be ridden often because their owners weren’t frequent visitors.”
Silas nodded. “Things are a little different here. Most of my business is with my blacksmithing trade, and the occasional shoeing of a horse. Too bad I don’t have more work, or I’d be happy to give you a job.”
“Thank you, sir. That’s kind of you to say. I’m supposed to report for work at the mine in the morning at five.”
“Five?” Silas frowned. “You driving a freight wagon?”
“That was the job Mr. Goodwin offered. I’m supposed to ride with a man named Lars tomorrow to see if I’m capable of doing the work and want the position.”
“Lars is a good, solid man. Listen to what he tells you and you’ll get along all right, but be careful. Hauling freight, in my opinion, is the most dangerous job at the mine.”
Gunder had no idea how driving a loaded wagon into Baker City, unloading it, filling it with supplies, and driving it back could be dangerous. It seemed simple enough to him.
“There aren’t Indians on the warpath or something along those lines, are there?”
Silas chuckled. “No. Just be careful, that’s all. Goodwin is fair, even if he plays his cards a little too close to the vest for my liking.” He motioned out his open door. “Did you explore the town already?”
Gunder nodded. “I did. Even took a refreshing dip in the river around the bend.”
“I like to do that of an evening myself. I live upstairs. If you ever need a friend, you know where to find me.”
A smile stretched across Gunder’s chapped lips. “Thank you, Si. I don’t think a body can ever have too many friends.”
“I agree, Gunder. Welcome to Lovely.”
Gunder shook hands with him again, then made his way back to the mine.
From the stream of miners coming out of a tunnel in the hill, he assumed their workday was at an end.
He stood in the shade cast by the tent nearest the mine and watched as the men washed up, then walked into a building across the road from the mine.
Assuming it was the cookshack, Gunder made his way there and took a seat at the end of a table.
While the food wasn’t the best he’d ever eaten, it was plentiful and filling.
Gunder sopped up the last of his gravy with a piece of bread, then picked up his plate, fork, and cup, carrying them to a big dishpan near the kitchen.
He’d just turned to leave when a short wiry man with a dirty apron tied around his scrawny middle latched on to his arm.
“Are you the new feller what’s gonna ride with Lars tomorrow?” the man asked, staring up at Gunder with one cloudy brown eye and one clear.
“Yes, sir. Mr. Goodwin said he’d mention the need for an extra lunch to the cook. May I pick that up in the morning here?”
The man shook his head. “I’ll just give it to Lars, along with something to break your fast. You’ll need it if you plan to make it through the day.” The man eyed him for a long moment, then wiped his hand on his apron and held it out to him. “I’m Jed.”
“Nice to meet you, Jed. I’m Gunder Birke.”
“Well, Gunder Birke. You best get some rest and be sure your britches are planted on the wagon seat before five, or you’ll get left behind.”
“Thank you, sir. I’ll do that. And thank you for the filling meal.”
Jed grinned, showing a few gaps in his smile. “You’re welcome, son. Did Goodwin give you a place to sleep?”
“Yep. The last tent on the left.”
An expression Gunder couldn’t quite interpret flew across Jed’s face before he scowled. “That figures. Have a good night, Gunder.”
“Thanks, Jed. You as well.”
Gunder left the cookshack and started toward his tent.
He nodded at a few people, but they didn’t appear interested in conversation, so he returned to the tent that would be his, at least for the night, and slid off the pack he’d kept with him through dinner.
The tent felt hot and stuffy, even with the bottom edges rolled up so a breeze could blow through.
He debated whether he should sleep fully dressed or get comfortable.
Not certain if he’d awaken to find his boots missing if he removed them, he chose to sleep fully dressed with his pack for a pillow and his hat shading his face from the sun that wouldn’t set for a few more hours.
Although he doubted he’d get much sleep, he’d barely closed his eyes when exhaustion claimed him.