As the fall of rain increased, they progressed to a trot, and then they ran when the farm was in sight. Thomas headed right for the barn. Carl stopped halfway and yelled out: “I’m going inside to let the girls know we’re back, okay?” He’d say anything to get out of helping him dress the bird.
Helen stood at the window watching her husband hurry off to the barn, knowing by the sight of what he carried, there would be a nice meal for her to prepare. When she spotted Carl coming up to the house, she hurried to the door. Beth ran up behind her as she opened it to find a wet hunter ready to get in where it was warm and dry. The rain and wind whipped across the front of the house, slamming the cold, almost freezing downpour into Carl’s face.
He stamped his feet at the door just out of habit as he took the fur hat off. His face red from the cold, he looked like a schoolboy bringing home a good grade on the day’s test. Beth handed him a towel she had in her hand. “Here. Wipe your face; you’re all wet.” Her concern was more for him than what they came home with for dinner, but for Helen it was her opportunity to cook a nice meal, and she was ready to do just that.
“What did you men get for me?” she asked.
As he wiped his face he peeked out from the towel. “A nice pheasant, and it’s a big one. Thomas nailed it. I tried for a second one but missed.”
The excitement in his voice stunned Beth. She had never seen him so energized over something like hunting. “Sounds like you had a great time,” she said as she took the towel from him. “Better get out of those wet clothes before you catch a cold or worse.”
Carl went to the open blazing fire and stood close to absorb the heat. “I’m not too wet. My clothes will dry in minutes here by the fire.” He held his hands out to the fire’s dancing and sizzling. It generated warmth not only for him but sent heat out to warm the entire cabin. “It only started to rain when we got here, so we didn’t get soaked. It’s really coming down now, though.” He looked toward the window at the streaks of rain running fast down the pains.
Helen prepared to go for water to heat so she could pull the feathers from the bird to finish dressing it when her husband brought it in. She already had yams out on the counter waiting to go with the dinner and a pot of corn soaking in water on the large wood stove. A red glow seeped from the narrow slits in the heavy oven door as the wood inside burned hot and even.
With her wool shawl on, and a good grip on the handle of the pot needed for the water, Helen went out the door to the well outside.
Thomas met up with her on his way to the house. He held the gutted pheasant up to show her, but she paid him no attention. She just hurried to get under cover from the rain.
A large wooden canopy high above the well kept Helen dry while she filled the pot with water from the bucket beside the well. It was always kept full of water to give them easy access when they needed it.
She held her wool shawl tightly up to her neck as she made her way back to the cabin. The wind blew hard against her as she hurried along the muddy path to the front steps. Beth saw her from the window and hurried to the door to help her in.
“Here, give me the pot of water, and get in here.”
Inside, Helen thanked her then took her shawl off, took the pot from her, and rushed it over to the hot stove. With no time to take her muddy shoes off, a dirty foot print tracked a row of mud spots from the door to the stove. Beth took it upon herself to get an old rag down from the hook by the door to wipe it up. Helen thanked her as she sat on a chair to take her shoes off.
Heavy wool stockings stretched from her ankles up under her skirt. The color was either an off-white or white stained from wear. She held her feet up in the air to let the heat from the fireplace warm them, then she went for a pair of clean shoes by the stove and put them on.
Once the water was very hot, Helen wasted no time to plunge the pheasant into it and begin plucking the feathers by pulling at them hard and fast. She sat cheerfully in a chair away from the table with a large tub in which she dropped the colorful feathers. Beth was sure they would have a use of some kind. Nothing there got thrown away unless it was really something awful with no use whatsoever. Amazing what can be done with things, she thought as she watched Helen conduct this task of these historical times as a normal duty. What was even more amazing was the fact that she stood there watching this in the year 1777—so long ago —live. What could have been a wonderful end of the season weekend at their cottage turned into something no one would ever believe. Would they ever get back? It scared her just to think about it.
It didn’t take Helen long to get dinner going. The smell of the roasting pheasant filled the cabin with a delightful aroma of real food cooking. Yams boiling alongside some beans and cut-up apples for applesauce added a delicious perfume to the meal.
Beth busied herself by setting the table, along with making sure there was enough wood in the stove at all times.
Carl sat at the table, feeling a bit helpless as he watched the women hustle and bustle around the kitchen area—his wife seemed to know what she was doing, and he was surprised at how well she adapted to this kind of life. All well and good, but he still wanted desperately to get them back to the future as soon as possible. The chief they were told of had to come along soon, he hoped. Somehow Carl felt certain the Indian could help them get back. For now there was only one thing to do, and that was to make the best of things.
Little Annie came up to him holding out a homemade wooden doll. She laughed as she turned its head around to face the opposite direction. “See,” she said proudly, as though she performed a great deed. Her bright blue eyes looked up at him, through a strand of blond curl that escaped the traditional white cotton bonnet she wore. Her smile was wide with a deep dimple at the right of her mouth. Carl took the doll and turned its head back around the right way and laughed when the little one broke out in laughter as she grabbed the doll away from him.
“You’re a sweet one,” he said as she waited for something from him. Then she ran off to take a place on a knitted wool rug in front of the fireplace. The bright orange glow from the fire rested on her blonde hair that peeked out from her little bonnet. Sitting there with her legs folded, she hugged her little doll as she rocked back and forth.
Oil lamps instead of candles were lit and placed around the cabin—one large one on the table two by the stove. It was warm and cozy inside while the wind outside whipped through the farm, blowing colorful leaves into the air flying like little planes trying to land.
Carl peered out the window wondering if this time would be for the rest of their lives…this simple, rough way of life, or could they ever get back to where they came from, the future. To be stuck there in a time of history would be unthinkable, even though he found it interesting.
Beth came up behind him. Her hand reached out to his shoulder as she stood on her tiptoes to kiss the side of his face. “Dinner is almost ready. It smells good, doesn’t it?”
He turned to her. “Yes, it does. I only hope they cleaned that bird good. We’re not used to eating prey we had to go out and kill. I wonder about disease.” He put his arm around her and kissed her cheek. “I know this is the way they all lived back then—huh, listen to me—back then?” He had a deep grin on his face. “Nothing like living the past live and in real time.”
“Oh Carl, I don’t know what we’re going to do if this is it for us. I can’t live like this. What about our families, our jobs, and poor Tabitha?” Tears welled in her eyes, but she fought them away with the wipe of the back of her hand. “Will we ever see her again…our families again?”
“We are not going to stay back here in this…” He paused to kiss her forehead as he held her close “We will get back, don’t you worry. There has to be a way.”
Helen’s voice called out to them. “Dinner!” The roasted bird sat on a serving plate in the middle of the table.
Little Annie sat in her high chair up to the table. She clapped her hands together as Helen started to carve into the bird
that now looked a lot smaller than it had when Thomas bagged it. With a crafted hand, she made sure each of them had a piece of meat and a healthy serving of the side dishes. Carl and Beth took seats across from little Annie. Their plates were full of the steaming meal Helen prepared.
Thomas set a jug of rum on the table, giving Carl a minute of pause, but when Thomas poured it into his cup, he smiled. His eye caught the nasty glance Beth gave him, so he ignored the cup while he picked up his fork and dug into the food.
Helen stood. “Let’s all give thanks to our Maker,” she said as she held her hands together in prayer. Carl quickly set his fork back down and lowered his head.
After dinner, the men went out to the barn to take care of the animals for the night. Clean straw had to be laid, grain put in the buckets and feeding bins, and the chickens were fed as well. All this took them nearly an hour to complete. With Carl’s help it was only that hour. Thomas was used to being out there for at least two hours in the evening and was glad to have the help.
Helen and Beth had everything cleaned up by the time the men came back to the cabin. A fire blazed in the fireplace with a warming glow. A few flakes of snow flew past the window to let them know just how cold it was out there. Little Annie gazed out the window with joy, just like most kids would even in those days of tough winters. October, though still fall, brought the first signs of the winter now approaching. Beth thought of the holidays coming up—would she be back home by then? Or would she have to spend the best time of the year for her here in the distant past?
“How do you folks celebrate the holidays? You know, Thanksgiving, Christmas…” She paused at Halloween. “Uh, holidays?” What would they know about Halloween? Did they have Thanksgiving during this time? “Do you have a Christmas tree and presents?”
Helen, busy with a book in hand, a knitted blanket folded over her arm, looked at her in surprise. “We have a nice dinner and sing songs. We head out for church and spend time with other families.” She opened the folded blanket and, with the book, sat in the chair by the fireplace. “Right now in the evenings, as you know, after a good meal I read to the family from the Bible. Get a chair, or just curl up by Annie on the rug by the fire, and we can get started.”
Thomas and Carl sat at the table drinking rum but not talking. Thomas knew better than to interrupt his wife while in her nightly visit in Scripture. Carl understood the routine without having to be told.
They had only been there a few days, but they were getting accustomed to the life, the work, a time they had only read about in books. For Carl and Beth, this was almost unbelievable, except they were there, truly living it.
Helen read from the Good Book with deep passion. Even little Annie kept her attention on her mother’s words. The fire danced and crackled with the sound of her voice. All was at peace.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
When Thomas mentioned going hunting again, Carl quickly raised his eyes up over the rim of the cup he was sipping hot tea from that next cool fall morning. “I’d really like to, Thomas. When can we go?” he asked as he stood and headed for the window.
A trace of snow edged the tree line of the wooded area behind the cabin. Trees, now bare of their leaves, waltzed back and forth in motion with the soft breeze. A fall symphony in harmony with the birds and sounds of the earth below kept him focused on the scene outside.
“I’ve already taken care of old Betsy and milked the cow, so we can finish this tea and be on our way. Better dress warm; it’s cold out there.” He looked over at Helen, who stood at the stove cooking something in a large pot. “I brought in some eggs for you this morning; they’re in the bowl over there.” He pointed to a basket that sat on the long wooden table by the stove.
“I saw them,” she said, without turning around to face him. Her attention was fixed on what she was doing as she stirred whatever it was in the pot. “I heard you say you two are going hunting again. Better take along a canteen of rum to warm you. It’s very cold this morning. I went out there for wood and nearly froze.”
“Oh, be careful with the rum please.” Carl announced. “I don’t want to shoot something I’m not supposed to. Back home we are not allowed to drink when hunting.” He thought of what he just said and added, “Well, that’s a little different where I come from.” And whoever listened or paid attention to the law anyway, he recalled, from the few times he went along with buddies who liked to hunt. There was always a six pack and maybe a flask or two packed away in their gear.
A thrill of excitement ran through Carl’s veins as he thought of once again going out on the hunt. This time he had every intension to bagging something himself, but he didn’t know what they would be hunting for. Could be almost anything, he thought. Maybe a deer, elk, or an even bigger game like buffalo. His mind was going wild with anticipation.
Thomas had the rifles down from the rack by the door in nothing flat of a few seconds, along with plenty of ammo. He handed Carl one of them. “This time we will look for something that don’t fly, like squirrel, rabbit—something we can skin and cook with wild onions and yams.”
“I’ll go for that.” He grinned. “How about deer?” He held the gun up to examine it. Beth stood back, with a frown creasing her forehead.
“Are you going to really shoot something with that?” she asked with some reserve.
“Why else would I be taking it out with us? Of course I’m going to—that is, I’m going to try to shoot something. You want to eat, don’t you?”
“I would be just as happy with the yams and dried beans. I hate the thought of killing a little animal.” She shook her head in disgust.
“Beth, you eat chicken, steak, and pork chops back home. Where do you think the meat comes from?” He focused once again on the gun in his hand as he tried to avoid her objections. He looked up again at her. “You ate the pheasant yesterday when you were so hungry.”
Beth walked over to the window with her arms wrapped around her for warmth and comfort, but she didn’t say another word.
The fringe of snow that blew up to the tree line addressed winter’s prelude. Grey clouds overhead signaled more bad weather for the day. Silence covered the land. The cold fall morning prepared the earth to sleep until spring. A whisper of hope remained in both Beth and Carl to get back to their lives in the future.
When Beth noticed Carl heading for the bedroom, she hurried to go with him. He held the door for her, and they both entered the room. He closed the door behind him as she went to the small window near the bed. He came up behind her, threw his arms around her waist, and kissed her on the neck. “I know how unhappy you are, but there isn’t much we can do. Maybe when that Chief Paul comes, we can learn of a way to get back. I hear he is versed on many magical things.” He turned her around and before she could say another word, his mouth was on hers. Even with the white cotton bonnet on her head, the clothes she wore covering her from neck to ankles, she was still so beautiful. The natural look to her face even with no makeup had a radiant glow. Her lovely hazel eyes filled with tears as she looked up into his face. He wiped one away with his finger before it traveled down her cheek. Then, he kissed her eyelid.
“It’s going to be all right,” he told her as he held her close. “We will find a way back; I just know we will. Try to make the best of it until we can meet with the chief.”
“Do you really think he can perform magic? Carl, what are you thinking?”
“What was it then that brought us here—in this year—in this place? Tell me. Wasn’t it magic or something weird like magic? Whatever happened, there must be something like it to take us back.” He held her close. “I think the chief may know how.”
“I wish you wouldn’t go hunting. I’m so afraid of what you might run into out there.”
“I’ll be all right. Don’t you worry. Besides I’ll be in the company of a seasoned hunter like Thomas. That man knows how to hunt. You should have seen him get that pheasant yesterday. I was really impressed.”
He kiss
ed her again and gave her a gentle hug before he let her go. The grey wool coat he put on felt heavy, but it was the way the clothes were back then, heavy and smelly but warm. A fur hat topped his dark curly hair and traveled down to his ears. It, too, had the smell of the wild. The streaked dark color of the hat told him it had to be raccoon, if anything. Carl felt like a real frontiersman in these common duds he only visualized from old pictures or paintings of the era.
Beth watched him get ready with concern written all over her face. His boots, still speckled with mud, went well with the outfit. She looked down at them as he pulled them on his feet only to have the sight of them bring her back to her home, her life, her existence before this happened to them. She wanted to burst into tears, but she held back in defense of her own sanity. Afraid to really let go and drive herself crazy, she remained calm.
The men were off, leaving the women standing at the window watching them go. The air was brisk, with the morning breeze that blew through the trees of the forest making an eerie whistling sound to accentuate the chill in the air.
Like the day before, Carl trudged along behind Thomas as they made their way deeper into the wooded forest. Stepping carefully along the way, they came to a clearing, the same one they’d hit on the day before. Thomas stopped to check the rifles and take a swig of rum from the canteen.
He offered it to Carl, but Carl declined. “No, thanks, not right now,” he told him as he waved a hand at him. “I’ll have some later.”
The short rest being over, they worked their way through to a cliff that stood fifteen to twenty feet high. The sun had now peeked out from the last of the grey clouds that kept it hidden all morning. All around the one half of the area the cliff with tall trees on top hovered over them. Carl didn’t remember this place. It was in another direction from what they traveled the day before.
Outside That Door Page 15
