The aroma of the cooked food in the pot on the stove filled the cabin with some hope. It didn’t smell too bad. Beth went back to the stove to take a look at what Helen stirred with much vigor.
“It smells good, Helen. Do you want me to set the table up for breakfast?”
Helen took her eyes off her work long enough to smile at her. “Sure; go right ahead. Put bowls out and a large plate for the rolls I made. They’re in the oven right now.”
“I bet that’s what smells so good.”
“Our cow gave us enough cream from her milk for me to churn butter. We’ll have some on the rolls this chilly morning.”
“When do you have time for all you do? It seems like you work from morning till night and still have time to read and play with Annie,” Beth told her as she reached for the bowl on the second shelf from the top of the homemade cabinet against the wall next to the stove.
“It’s not really so bad. I enjoy doing most things around here. It’s not the same as we had it back in England, but it’s worth every moment of it.” Helen had a tone in her voice of complete acceptance of her choice in life. “Thomas and I looked forward to the day we would come here and start a new life, and here we are, living our dream.”
Dream? More like a nightmare. “That’s nice,” Beth commented with a slight grin while she carried the bowls to the table and set them down.
A gust of cold air blew in from the open door as the men entered the cabin. Carl looked so tired and worn out. He hurried to remove his heavy wool coat and hung it on the hook by the door. Thomas stomped his feet at the door as usual while Carl took his boots off and hurried over to the fireplace.
Hands extended out toward the dancing flames, he rubbed them together to warm them. “It really got cold out there. I bet it’s down in the twenties or close.”
Thomas shook his head and gave him a quick snicker at the side of his mouth, raising his mustache some. He removed his coat and set it around the back of one of the chairs by the table. “It will be a lot colder come winter. This is nothing.” The slight smile in his eyes gave way to his jest.
“Will the fireplace keep us warm when the colder winter hits?” Carl asked. “Seems to me there would be a need for more than just that.”
“The cabin is well built, and heat stays inside. We wear more wool clothes and eat plenty of hot food and drink a lot of rum.” He laughed and nodded. “Oh, yes, our good rum and some whiskey too.”
Carl shrugged his shoulders. “Great!”
“Come on, you guys. The breakfast is on the table,” Beth announced as she set the last bowl down in front of Carl. “It’s hot and good, so eat up. Helen went to a lot of trouble to prepare this for you guys, so don’t disappoint her.”
With so much torment on her mind of how they could get back, she still had enough of a cheerful tone to her voice to generate a look of surprise on Carl’s face.
He looked up at her while she still stood next to him. “You’re in a good mood. Something I should know?”
“No, just trying to lighten up a little. After all, what else can we do right now? I hope you realize, we may be stuck here in this past and never get back. Are you prepared to live like this from now on? We may have to reconcile to that fact, Carl.”
“Don’t talk this way. We will get back.” He lowered his head and looked into the bowl at the yellow pasty meal. “Is this really any good?”
“Shush up and eat; it’s not bad.” She turned and went to the other side of the table and sat. Helen came to the table with a plate of warm rolls and set it in the middle of the table. Thomas didn’t hesitate to grab one and went for the butter on a smaller dish with his knife.
With the cabin heating up nicely, they all sat at the table to enjoy the breakfast. Annie had come down and sat next to her mother. Her hair was messed up, so Helen quickly smoothed it down with her hand and placed a bib around her neck.
“How about a little hunting trip this morning?” Thomas asked as he turned to Carl. “Should be a few deer about at this time of the morning. They are out a lot during the fall season looking for food.”
“That would be nice,” Helen interjected as she looked up from the spoon she held near her mouth.
Carl’s expression left a little to be desired when he nodded but said nothing. He obviously had some reservations about going back out there to hunt. But there was no other way to get meat on the table, so he just went along with the suggestion. “When did you want to go?”
“Right after we have our tea,” Thomas told him. “I have our rifles loaded and plenty of rum in the canteen. It’s a bit cool out there today.”
“Yeah, I’ll need some rum, all right.” Carl gave Beth a quick look, waiting for her objection, but she said nothing. His eyes shifted back to Thomas. “Will we be going far?”
“Just as far as it takes. The deer are not going to come up to the cabin so we can shoot them.” His laugh echoed through the cabin like thunder. Helen shook her head and went on with clearing the table with Beth, who just grinned at the unwanted humor.
Little Annie bounced over to the fireplace to sit near it with her old book and her doll. Helen took an oil lamp to the small round wood table near the fireplace, and she turned it up a bit to let the light fall down around her little child now cuddled up on the braided rug in front of the fire.
“I’ll get your coat, little one. We have to go visit the outhouse, so don’t get too comfortable.” Annie shook her head in objection, but Helen only ignored her.
The trip to the outhouse would be a must for Beth as well, and she was not looking forward to it, but nature called.
Wool had a way of blocking out the cold when wrapped around one’s body. Beth took the one they had given her and headed out the door with Helen and her little one. Annie hugged her doll under the long brown cape hanging down to her ankles.
Strong gusts of wind hit them smack in the face as they walked out the door and headed for the back side of the cabin. Little Annie held fast to her mother’s skirt, the hood of her shawl up over her head as she her little legs tried to keep up with them. The men were mounted on horses ready to go off on their hunt. Carl waved to them as he and Thomas rode out into the woods.
* * *
Clear skies overhead, a bunch of white clouds drifting along with the cool breeze, the men traveled the well-known trail into the wooded area of land behind the cabin. Thomas took the lead, with Carl close behind. They would stop somewhere close to the river’s edge, where it would be likely for deer to come for water. If nothing else, the prospects of bagging a duck or pheasant had good possibilities. With one belt of rum already downed, Carl looked around like a hawk searching for game, but his big concern was not game but what humankind would be lurking somewhere in the bushes or behind a tree. The ones with red skin and a feather or two attached to their head and a killing look in the eyes. Nothing could ever erase that face from his memory—a face of anger, rage that went with the hold on Thomas with a knife at his throat. The image of the bloodied body on the ground once he’d pulled the trigger. It made him shudder just to think about it. Could he raise his rifle again, even to shoot a duck, a deer?
They dismounted and left the horses back from the water’s edge. Carl’s hands shook as he took the rifle from the strap on the horse’s side. Thomas grabbed the canteen along with his gun and motioned for Carl to follow him.
“We have a ways to go before we can settle down to wait hopefully for a buck to come along. They often come to the water at this time in the morning, but one cannot always be sure.” He strapped the canteen to his belt and put the strap of his rifle over his shoulder. “This may take some time. I suggest you be prepared for a possible long wait.” He raised his hand to wave Carl on. “From this point on, we must be very quiet.”
“What about the horses? Will the deer be afraid of them?”
“The horses are used to this and will remain still. The deer know them by now and pay no attention to them, but they may pick up on our s
cent. If so, we can always bag a duck or two.”
“That would be cool with me.”
“Cool?” Thomas stopped walking and looked at him. “Are you cold? “ He reached for the canteen.
“No, no, I’m not cold. I meant the ducks would be good. It’s just an expression we use where I come from.” Thomas turned around, shook his head, and the hunters proceeded into the brush close to where the water flowed gently over rock and traveled down the wide span of the river, some twenty feet or more. The banks lifted up from the water’s edge by only a slight incline and lined with large rocks that shone in the beam of the sunlight streaming down through the bare trees. Colorful leaves blanketed the banks and surrounding area. The sound of the river had a peaceful effect to all living things, including Carl hunkered down beside Thomas behind the bushes not far from the river.
Thomas took his second swig of rum and handed the canteen to Carl. This time, Carl took it and held it up to his lips for a quick drink. He still had his thoughts on who, not what, might come out to the river for water. Hunting was one thing, but killing another man, even in self-defense, was another.
Sunbeams danced across the water as a flock of ducks landed with a splash right in the middle of the river. Squawking loudly, they went about their search for food. Male Mallards with shiny green heads plunged their heads into the water to retrieve crab fish and other succulent creatures for a mealtime feast. A few speckled brown females joined in the search alongside the males. Almost too beautiful to shoot. Carl watched them but didn’t raise his gun while Thomas took aim at one just about to land in the water.
The blast echoed out over the water into the woods on the other side and caused the ducks in the water to take to flight in a hurry, all but the one he aimed at. It landed on the back at the edge of the water.
“I hope the pellet didn’t ruin the meat. Looks like a good size duck. Should be enough for a meal tonight for all of us.” Thomas rose from his position. “Come on, let’s get the duck before it gets grabbed up by some hungry creature lurking in the brush.”
Thought of the bears and Indians crossed Carl’s mind as he followed his hunting partner to a line of large stones laid across the river to be used for crossing.
Careful not to fall into the slow-moving waters, the men went over the stones to the other side.
Carl gazed down at the dead duck with a feeling of sorrow, somehow. He had never felt this way about hunting before, not until he was faced with the need to kill another human being. What looked like a great meal to Thomas took on the same feelings for Carl he had when he shot the Indian. His thoughts wrapped around that day like a repeat of a bad nightmare. It’s just a duck, he thought as they gathered up the night’s dinner and headed for the horses some many yards away.
Embarrassment took its place in his mind as he saw the disappointed look Thomas wore as they mounted the horses. Had he aimed and shot, there could have been two birds for dinner and not just one. Even though his hunting partner said nothing to him, he could see the clear response on his face. Thomas got on his horse and headed out as Carl quietly joined him at the rear.
In the distance could be heard a shot from a gun. Thomas paid no attention to it, but Carl had his eyes widened, his head turning back and forth, the hair on the back of his neck stood out against his coat collar. What could be just common sounds around there for Thomas was something much different for Carl now, after his experience of killing that Indian.
To see the cabin in the near distance made Carl feel a lot better. All he wanted was to get back in there and hide in the bedroom for a time. Guilt of not helping with the hunt had him distraught.
Thomas looked back at him and waved him on. “Let’s get on with it. The women can prepare our dinner with this duck while we take care of things in the barn.” He picked up the trot of his horse as he yelled back at Carl. “Come on.”
Clouds overhead took on a look of threatening weather again. The wind had kicked up, blowing dead leaves up around in a circle then landing them like a kite losing its wind. The cool air against his face helped Carl with his feelings of despair. He began to think of his life before all of this happened and it had him wondering if he and Beth would ever get back to it.
Beth hurried to the window when she heard the sound of the horses arriving. The brisk cool waves of air blew the dust up from the ground and circled around the horses’ hooves as they road up to the hitching post outside the front of the cabin. She waved from the window when she saw the sad look on Carl’s face as he dismounted. Did he have to kill another Indian? The thought slipped through her mind. “Oh, no,” she whispered before going to the door.
The wind caught the door and pulled it open as she lifted the long wooden handle that held it closed. Carl walked up to her and put his arms around her. His grip held her tight for several seconds before he let her go.
“What happened?” she asked.
“Nothing, really. Just I lost my nerve to shoot a stinking duck.”
“Why? Tell me what happened,” she insisted.
He left her standing there and made his way to the bedroom. Beth went right after him. “Carl. Tell me what happened out there.” He opened the bedroom door and went inside, Beth at his heels. He tore off his coat and slammed it down on the bed.
“I lost my nerve out there. Can you imagine how I felt when I watched Thomas hunt down what this family…you and I, need to stay alive? I should have done the same, but I froze when it came time to raise my gun and shoot.”
“All right, so you didn’t shoot a duck. I can’t say I blame you after what happened the last time you went out there to hunt.” Beth rubbed her hand over Carl’s back to comfort him.
“Don’t try to pacify me with your sweet talk, Beth. I was a real jerk out there, and there is no other way to look at it.” He paced back and forth in the small room. With the door closed, the heat from the fireplace out in the large open room had trouble seeping through the hard wood it was made of. Carl rubbed his arms in an attempt to warm them. Beth went to the door and opened it. It didn’t make him too happy, but he sat back on the bed and looked at her with a frown on his face but said nothing.
Helen stood at the stove peering over her shoulder to the open door of the bedroom. Steam from the pot in front of her rose high in the air, and a large pot at her feet held the duck, now gutted and ready for plucking. She smiled at Beth, but her brow was creased with concern.
“Want to help me pull feathers?” she asked as she turned around to face Beth.
“I guess so,” Beth told her then went over to the stove. She looked down in the pot and had a little shiver trickle down her back. “Kind of a shame. Such a pretty thing.”
“Yes, pretty good size too. It’ll make a fine dinner for us.” Helen reached down, took the bird by its feet from the pot and plunged it into the boiling water on the stove. When she pulled it back out she returned it to the pot. “Let’s take this to the table so we can clean it up. I want to get it ready for the oven as soon as we can. It’s getting late.”
Beth followed her to the table, ready to do the nasty job of pulling feathers from the dead duck. Not something she looked forward to, but something that needed to be done. Incredible how life in these days went on without complaints, she thought as she settled down in a chair at the table next to her gracious host. Helen went about her chores without a word of dislike or worry.
Carl came out of the bedroom with his head down, looking like the little boy who did something bad while outside playing. Helen invited him to the table and offered him a cup of tea. Thomas appeared at the door with a few apples from the fruit bin out in the barn. He came to the table, set them down then took his coat off. “It’s starting to snow again,” he said as he put his coat over the back of the chair next to Carl. “How’s that tea, Mother?” he asked his wife.
“Good and hot. I’ll get you a cup,” she told him. She went to the stove to pour him a cup.
Dinner turned out to be one heck of a meal a
fter all. Beth marveled at how Helen could put together such wonderful food with so little to work with. Carl ate slow but finally finished and was about to lift his cup of tea to his mouth when Thomas reached for the tin flask on the table next to him and poured some rum into Carl’s cup. “It’ll give you strength. You’ll feel better.”
His gentle smile let Carl know how much he understood his feeling of despair, a comforting feeling to know. Carl nodded then took a long drink from the cup.
After dinner clean-up time had the women on their feet gathering up the dishes and cups from the table. The washtub by the stove served as a sink. Helen went right to work while Beth grabbed a towel from the rack on the wall to help with the drying once the dishes were cleaned. Methodically, the two ladies of the house went to work, Helen washing, Beth drying.
Not long after things were taken care of in the kitchen area, Helen took her place in her rocking chair with her Bible in hand. Annie curled up on the floor in front of her with her little wooden doll on her lap. She gazed up at her mother, waiting for the story of the baby Jesus to be read. Even though she heard it many times before, it was her favorite.
“Before you begin,” Beth interrupted. “Do you celebrate a Thanksgiving Day?” she asked as she sat in the chair next to Helen.
“Oh, yes,” Helen replied, “Every day.”
Beth smiled. “No, I meant one special day—a day sometime in November, after the harvest.”
Helen laughed. “We have every day to be thankful for, my dear.” Then she opened the Bible.
Carl glanced over at Beth and shook his head.
Thomas spoke up, “There is rumor of a day of great feasting before the end of this year to celebrate the victory of the last battle in Saratoga,” he told them as he leaned forward in his chair.
Outside That Door Page 17
