Outside That Door

by Jennifer Robins

  “Don’t you worry,” Helen told Beth. “We will be just fine out here.” She pointed to the large braided rug on the floor in front of the fireplace. “We have blankets and a soft feather mattress—it’s also warm there.” She smiled wide and took Beth by the hand. “Would you like to wash?”

  That was music to Beth’s ears. “Yes I would.” She looked around for something or someplace where this could happen but saw nothing that even resembled a tub, a sink, or a toilet.

  Helen saw the look of confusion on her face. “There is a washbasin and water in the bedroom. I can get you a washcloth and a towel.”

  A washbasin? “Thank you, I guess.” The lingering wish for a hot tub with her fragrant bath oil was out of the question, and standing at a water-filled basin to bathe was difficult to fathom. Better than nothing, I suppose.

  She followed Helen to the bedroom. The basin and a large water pitcher stood on a stand in the corner of the room. Beth looked at it as though it were some kind of monster waiting there to make her life more miserable than it already was. She knew she shouldn’t think that way, but this was almost impossible for her to imagine, and yet she looked forward to anything to get some of the dirt off of her. Helen handed her a washcloth and towel.

  “I’ll leave you alone now,” she said standing at the door. “There is soap by the basin, and if you’d like clean clothes, you’ll find some in the bureau drawer. You are most welcome to use what you need. They are all clean.” Helen smiled, walked out and closed the door behind her.

  When Beth emerged from the bedroom, she was dressed in a heavy linen blue skirt trailing down almost to her ankles and a white long-sleeved cotton blouse gathered up high to her neck. Her hair, although not washed, was now brushed and laid nicely over her shoulders under the white bonnet she was given to wear. Draped over her arm she had a light brown shawl yet to be put on her shoulders.

  The men were just coming in the door. Thomas had taken Carl down to the river to sponge some of the dirt off of his hands and head. It was cold but refreshing. The sun had warmed the water to a mild cool, so it could still be used to wash, at least for the men. Carl’s hair dripped with water running down his forehead onto his nose. Beth looked at him with surprise. “You washed your hair?”

  “That river out there has some nice clear running water but it’s cold. Yes, I washed my hair.”

  He looked at her in those clothes and began to laugh. “Never mind my hair, how about those duds you’re sporting and that little white bonnet?” His giggle, although mild, made its mark.

  She threw her own clothes now wrapped up in her arms on the floor. “They’re better than these stinking things. You ought to take a look at yourself. Every inch of you is dirt from head to toe.”

  “The lady is right, my friend. Your things are rather a sight, I must say,” Thomas told him. “I have some things you could borrow for now. That is—if you would like to part with that messy wardrobe of yours. Not only are they dirty, they are absolutely strange indeed.”

  “Well, they might need some laundering, but they’re not strange—not where I come from.”

  “I’m sorry, old chap, it’s just I have never seen clothes like those before. Where did you say you got them?”

  “I didn’t say, and I don’t think you would know about the place they came from, so let’s not talk about it—at least for now.” Carl took his hand and tried to brush off some of the mud from his pants. When he raised his eyes back up to Thomas, he said, “Maybe I’ll take you up on your offer. What do you have that’ll fit me? You are a bit larger than me.” He looked down at his clothes again. “When did you say that chief would be coming by?”

  “The chief you speak of—known also as Captain John Paul Cadley, whom we call Chief Paul—will be by soon, but we don’t know exactly when. I know you said you want to talk to him but there’s no way for me to get him here before he’s ready to come.”

  “I was given the impression he might be able to direct us back to where we came from. I understand he’s an Indian.”

  “He is Indian but has American ties. He has been known to see into other worlds—look into the future and perform many healings among the tribe members. I hope he can help you.”

  “I take it he is some kind of witch doctor or something. You know, like the Indians have been known to have in their tribes.”

  “Yes. One could say so. We don’t necessarily acknowledge it, but the chief has done much to help us win many battles, so we hold him in high respect.” He stroked the dark stubbles on his chin.

  “So, my wife and I will be here, in your home, until this person comes along, which could be a while—right?” Carl’s brows came together in a frown.

  “Yes, I’m afraid so. I’m sorry if you find our home inadequate, but it’s all we have to offer.” His eyes dropped to a low glance, relinquishing the pride he had in his humble home.

  Beth took issue with Carl. “These nice people didn’t have to take us in. They all could have just left us out there to starve and freeze to death, or worse. Bears, snakes, wildcats—oh yeah, that would be better.”

  “All right, I’m sorry. I am so tired, so afraid we won’t get back. I shouldn’t be taking it out on these people.” He turned to Thomas. “I’m deeply sorry, Thomas. I am very grateful for your hospitality and want to thank you and your wife for everything.” He extended his hand to his host, and Thomas took it with a smile.

  It was time to get on with the chore of settling their houseguests in for the duration. Carl took the borrowed clothes he’d wear to the bedroom.

  Helen prepared to soak some beans and corn for their dinner, while Thomas went out to the barn for eggs. Their chickens produced anywhere from six to eight eggs every day. Eggs were gathered, leaving a few for hopeful hatching. He reached in under the clucking chickens nestled on straw laid out on a high shelf in the coop he’d built for them. “Come on there, Paddy, let me have it.” He nudged the hen over a little to retrieve the last of the six eggs he came for.

  The barn contained hay for the horses and beds of straw in a partitioned section set up to house them, along with other livestock the Williams could afford from shipments brought in from Europe. The main source of their income came from fields—hay, wheat, corn, and grain plowed by a large workhorse, Danny Boy, who was well taken care of. Without him there would be no crops. Old Betsy, a sturdy looking and beautifully marked pinto which pulled their wagon, was also good to ride. The two other horses were for riding. They would pull the carriage parked outside the barn, the kind much like the Amish of the present.

  Across from the horses’ stable, another place occupied by a cow was partitioned off with long rails around it to keep her in place. Thomas told Carl how he got up at four in the morning to milk her.

  Outside of the larger cities, the wilderness had only a few settlers who made a life at farming. With so many of the men away in the armies and militia fighting for their rights to be there, few men remained behind to run the farms. Many of the women and young boys stayed back to work the land and care for the daily chores of this humble way of life. Instead of living in the cities where life was a bit easier, these people chose to be pioneers in the region and live a life of farming.

  Thomas made the choice of staying with his family to help soldiers when needed. He and his wife had been designated as a stopping off point, because their place was between the many forts and the civilian communities. With a shortage in supplies most of the time, his farm provided some needed staples for the weary troops that came there for shelter and food. Often this left the family with little for themselves, but they never complained. Thomas worked the land the best he could with the hope to do better once the war was over. But, for now, they made do.

  He rushed to get back to the house, dodging raindrops as he ran along holding on to the eggs. Thunder roared through the skies, preceded by streaks of lightening. The raindrops had progressed to a downpour by the time he got to the porch.

  Coming up to the d
oor he was met by Helen who extended a hand to take the eggs from him. He shook the rain off his full, thick, bushy hair and entered the house with her.

  Carl stood in his long blue cotton trousers and a pullover linen shirt, looking like he belonged there, while Beth looked like her new attire could have been a bit smaller in size. She was glad they had no mirrors in the house. “I must look terrible in this.”

  With the heavy storm outside, there was not much to do. Helen rushed around, setting the table with a few fancy dishes she took from the top of the cabinet, obviously a few personal things she was able to bring with her from England. The pot on the large iron stove in the corner blew steam from its top, filling the room with an odor something like soup cooking. Wood burning at the bottom of the stove sent a glow of red across the floor, laying a trail of its light from the stove all the way to the wall across the room. So colorful. Beth thought of scenes in a movie she liked about those days.

  “Can I help you, Helen?” Beth asked as she stood up when her hostess set a plate in front of her. “Please let me do something.”

  “No, you just stay there. Let me have the pleasure of tending to a guest like you. I don’t have a chance to entertain like this except on the holidays. Most of the time we have wounded soldiers or hungry Indians coming here.” Little Annie ran over to her and hugged her leg. “Come on, now. You have to be good and let Mum get dinner ready.” Helen gently pushed the small child aside but bent down to give her a loving kiss on the head before she sent her on her way.

  Conversation was brisk about the war and the winter ahead of them. The dinner was not bad, especially as hungry as they were. Soaked beans and corn with scrambled eggs—some soft raised bread made from potatoes. They all ate whole-heartedly. Thomas stood with a pitcher in hand. “Here we go. Hold up your cup for a little rum to top things off,” he told Carl. “You might like a little tobacco in a pipe. I enjoy mine after dinner. It helps digest the food.”

  Once again Carl refused the pipe, but the rum was warming and a nice nightcap. The storm had ended by the time they were all ready to retire.

  Behind the closed door of the bedroom, Carl watched his lovely wife gladly relieve herself of the handmade cotton clothes she’d spent the day swimming in.

  He approached her with a gleam in his eyes and a smile on his face. When his hands touched her, she stepped back.

  “What are you doing?” she scolded.

  “I’m touching my beautiful wife. Anything wrong with that?”

  “There are people on the other side of that door we hardly know, and this is their bedroom.” She gave his hand a gentle slap.

  “So…” he said softly as he put his arms around her waist to draw her up close to him. His mouth was on hers before she could speak another word. His tongue slipped in between her teeth. He pressed her up against him with passion awakened at the sight of her naked beauty.

  Even the rough feel of his growing beard didn’t bother her—his lips were warm, wet. Not only did she want him, she needed him. After all they’d been through the past few days, she was left with some stored up energy bubbling over for release and open to his advances. With all the years of marriage, the excitement of his hands, his mouth on hers, never lost the way it made her feel. He always lit a fire inside of her, a passion she could not ignore.

  He struggled out of his borrowed clothes and kept his eyes on her as she lay down on the bed to wait for her long-time lover and husband to fill her with his love. His body was exciting and masculine. He smelled manly. He made love to her in a gentle, patient way.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Carl grabbed for the itchy wool trousers on the end of the bed as he jumped to his feet when he heard the knock on the door. With not even a hint of daylight from the window on the other side of the room, he wondered what time it was. A glimmer of moonlight slid across the floor. Beth rolled over on her back and looked up at him as he struggled to put the trousers on. Buttons instead of zippers were much harder to manipulate as he raced to the door, his hands on the flap needed to close the front of them.

  Thomas gently tapped his knuckles once again on the door as Carl was about to open it.

  “It’s time to milk the cow and feed the chickens,” Thomas told him as he opened the door wide to let the light from the candle in his hand shine in. Carl moved his head to the side to prevent Thomas from seeing his wife in bed.

  “Are you asking me to come and help you?” Carl rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand and let out a long yawn.

  “Yes, I could use the help, if you would.”

  “Sure, just let me get dressed.” Carl yawned again, turning around. “I’ll be right out.” He closed the door behind him as he stepped back inside and leaned against it to get his thoughts together. Milk a cow? I’ve never milked a cow.

  Beth was up out of the bed searching for her clothes strung across the room in a fit of passion the night before. She shivered with the cool morning air that surrounded them in the small darkened room. A hint of light seeped in from a narrow space in the door—just enough to let them know it was the start of a new day. She stretched her arms above her head and hurried to dress to avoid the chill.

  Carl was ready to leave by the time she adjusted the skirt and rolled the long sleeves of the blouse up to her elbows. Her hands felt cold against his face as he went to kiss her good-bye. He slipped the bracers up over his shoulder. Wonder when they started calling these bracers suspenders?

  “I’m on my way to the barn out there to fondle a cow’s udders and throw food at a bunch of chickens.” He took her hand in his. “Try to keep warm and don’t do anything but stay here inside with Helen. I don’t want to worry about where you are or what you’re doing.” He kissed her, a long warm kiss, and then left the room, leaving the door open.

  It was kind of silly to worry about her while the barn was only a few yards from the house. It wasn’t as though he were leaving on a long journey miles away. Beth only smiled as she thought about how concerned he could be.

  She realized she would have to venture out to the toilet facilities outside that she’d visited the night before. Helen was by the kitchen table spooning something into a bowl for Annie who sat watching it with a doubtful grimace on her face.

  “You have to eat this,” she told her little girl as she set a smaller spoon down in front of the bowl. “Breakfast is important, and cornmeal mash is very good for you.” She poured a little cream over the yellow mash and handed the girl a linen napkin.

  “Good morning,” Beth said as she walked up to the table. “Everyone is up so early. What time is it?” She circled the table while looking out through the one window that faced the barn.

  A morning mist hovered over the farm as a bright moon in the western skies, soon to be gone, peeked over the waving treetops. Although it was still somewhat dark, she could see Carl standing at the open barn door with a pitchfork in his hands and a large wagon in front of him. She stood still and watched for a few moments until Helen asked her if she wanted some tea. “It’ll take the chill out of your bones.”

  The tea hit the spot on a cool fall morning as Beth sat at the table with her kind host going on about her little girl who smiled while she ate her breakfast.

  Beth stared at Helen with wonder. She assumed the woman was close to her own age, but she looked so much older. There appeared to be signs of hard work that played havoc on her appearance. But she could see gentleness in this kind woman’s face that made her feel close to her even though they’d only met. It was so nice to have another woman she could talk to, and be with. Soldiers, Indians, and language she couldn’t understand had been taking its toll on her. At least now there was Helen.

  “She’s a little shy, isn’t she?” Beth asked as the little girl sunk down in her chair when Beth looked over at her.

  “Shy, maybe, but if you don’t mind me saying so, you do look different from most folks around here.” She reached over to pat Beth’s hand. “Annie is just impressed by your appearan
ce. She finds you interesting.” Helen leaned forward as though to whisper. “By the way, the toilets are right outside if you have a need.”

  “Yes, I was wondering about that. Thanks.”

  With the shawl pulled tightly around her, Beth made her way to the back of the cabin with some reservations. Great! She hurried along with only one thing in mind, Get this over with fast!

  Helen had the table cleared when Beth returned. It wasn’t long before the men were at the door looking for something to eat. Helen hurried along with serving the corn mash and brown bread. She had Thomas bring dried fruit up from the fruit cellar out by the barn. An assortment of dried apples, blueberries, and some currants went well with the meal. They all sat at the table eating and making conversation about the day’s events ahead of them.

  Besides all the work around the farm, Thomas had to make periodic visits to the Mohawk River just a few miles east of them. Food and supplies often came down the river in small vessels that traveled there from the sea. Many larger boats from other countries had to watch for pirates. Often these renegades fought with larger boats from other countries for cargo and would sell it to the British. Care had to be taken when going to the river not to run into these thieves. Thomas always took with him his Jaeger rifle, with his powder horn full. If he was lucky to get some of the needed food and supplies, he was not going to have it stolen right out from under him.

  “Would you like to come with me?” he asked Carl as he stood and stretched his arms upward.

  “How do we get there?” Carl’s eyes drifted toward Beth looking for help.

  “I’ll hitch up old Betsy to the wagon out there and off we’ll go.”

  “That’s what I thought. Mind if I ask, how is it to ride those few miles to the river? You know, Indians, wild animals—got my drift?”