The soft morning wind swept across her face and hit the bush releasing some of the small red colored leaves still holding on to its branches. Her eyes focused on the fort. The nerve-racking waiting kept her hands folded in a prayer-like fashion as she silently called upon God for help. This had to be the right place—a place where they could get help. She noticed Carl coming out from the wood fencing.
A small sparrow suddenly came down and lit on the branch just to her side and frightened her so much she jumped up and stood straight. She also frightened the little bird away at the same time; Carl appeared to the left of her. He had a smile on his face, so she knew he must have good news.
“This is the fort we’re looking for.” He came up to her and embraced her. “It has some Indians here, but they are all on the right side of this war, so we don’t have to worry about them.”
“Oh, thank God. I was getting so worried when I saw all those Indians down there.” She threw her arms around his neck. “Did you find the guy those soldiers told us about?”
“No. He’s not here right now, but the rest of the men who were in the platoon with those soldiers we spent the night with—they are here. I told them what happened, and they’re really upset.”
Carl grabbed her hand. “Come on, let me get you down there. They have food and fresh water, and we can get inside where it’s warm.”
“Do they have a tub or shower—with hot water?”
He shook his head and laughed. “I don’t think so—this is not the Ritz. This is Fort Stanwix.”
They moved along the edge of the forest, slowly coming into view of a few young Indian women who watched eagerly for him to bring his wife out, so they could take a look at her.
The eldest of the four women rushed ahead of the younger three. She held out her hand to Beth and waved her in with the other hand. Beth hesitated a moment before going up to her. Her skin was dark and weathered, her clothes all made from skins of animals, and her hair was braided and hanging down to her waist with a colorful two inch band around her forehead.
Carl walked along side of her. “These Indians are the Oneidas tribe, and they have been with the Americans for a long time. They fight right alongside them.” He smiled at the women as they came up to them. “There is also another tribe here who helped, so don’t be afraid of them.”
Beth stopped walking…and whispered, “Yeah, what about those dead, scalped soldiers we found back there?”
“I didn’t discuss it with these women.”
“Don’t you think this is something you should find out about? I want to know who is who around here if we are going to be forced to spend any time among them.”
“I’m sure we will be here for a while. Don’t know when that Chief Paul dude will be back. We have to talk to him. At least we can get something to eat and get out of this cold. These people want to help us.” They came right up to the Indian women. “Only the older one speaks English.”
The Indian woman greeted her with an outstretched arm. Beth took the woman’s hand in hers. It felt hard, dry, but not cold. “Hello,” she said softly. “My husband says you speak English.”
The old woman nodded. “Yes, I speak like you. You are cold.” She held Beth’s hand in her dark, hard, wrinkled palm and rubbed it gently. White hands with nail polish were a new sight to her. “Come inside, warm up.” She motioned for them to follow her.
As they walked along toward the cabin, the three younger women followed right behind. Carl stayed at Beth’s side, still keeping a keen eye out for whatever might come along.
The two horses tied to the hitching post by the front door pawed at the ground as they approached. The Indian blankets over their backs shifted slightly as the nervous pair watched the strangers approach the steps to the right of them. One of the younger women came around to quiet them by placing her hands on their heads as she spoke softly to them with words neither Carl nor Beth could understand. Whatever she said to them seemed to calm them down, and they resumed their stance at the post without further disturbance.
She smiled as she stroked them from the top of their heads down to their noses. She had a way with those large beasts, and it was obvious.
They entered the large building and closed the door behind them. Warmth from the fireplace hit them the second they came in, welcomed by both. Beth let out a sigh of relief as she hurried to the open hearth hands extended to the fire to warm them. The fire blazed with high flames that crackled and danced above the pile of huge logs burning with a red glow inside the large opening of the stone fireplace.
There were two oil lamps, one on the wood table lined with benches and the other on a wooden desk with drawers on each side and a large wood chair. The subtle glow from them lit the large room. The floor, made of large planks of wood, creaked when they walked over them. Window openings on each side were covered with boarded shutter-like wood panels, one of which was partially open, letting in a slim stream of light that traveled across the floor to the other side of the cabin walls. Three men, one an Indian, sat at the table watching them. Each had a tin mug of something in front of them. A large wooden platter with what looked like flatbread sat in the middle of the table. The soldiers wore black hats and the same type of coats as one of the soldiers Carl and Beth had met earlier. The Indian, dressed in pants made of skins and a similar-looking long-sleeved shirt, had his hair in a braid but wore no headband.
The short, thin man with a beard stood up. As he strolled over, his eyes scanned them like they were strange objects. He looked friendly but cautious. “I see you have your wife with you this time. She looks like she is very cold. I can bring a chair here by the fire for her.”
“No, that’s all right. We just need to get warmed up a little, and we are very thirsty and hungry. If you have water—maybe some bread…” Carl’s eyes studied the tempting food on the table. It even smelled good.
“Sure thing. We have dried beans soaking for later, but for now I can get you some tea to go with a piece of the bread. The kettle in the fireplace has plenty of hot water in it.”
While he spoke, he couldn’t keep his eyes off of their clothes, especially the leather jacket Carl wore and the heavy jean jacket on Beth. His eyes wandered down to Beth’s pants with a frown.
Carl saw the curiosity over their attire. “I suppose you wonder where we came from. It might be hard to explain at this time, but I’ll try if you want me to.” He stared at the man, waiting for an invite to speak about their situation and where they should be, but the man only kept looking at their boots with his mouth open.
After several seconds, he looked up at Carl. “You do look rather strange.” He stroked his bearded chin. “Where are you from?” He gave Carl another once over.
“It’s a bit complicated. We are from another time, not another place, but another time—like the future.” He waited for a reaction, but the man only looked at him strangely. “I know it’s hard to understand, so don’t try. We just need some help. When will this Paul guy be back?”
The man stepped back as though Carl had some kind of disease. “Soon—he’ll be back soon.”
“That’s good. Please.” He moved toward him. “Don’t be afraid of us. We are not here to harm anyone. We just need help—water, food and shelter—until we can figure out how to get back to where we came from.” The man nodded. “You said something about some tea?” Carl asked.
The man turned toward the fireplace. “Yes, the water is hot. The tea is over there. I’ll get cups.” He pointed to a long shelf the full length of the far wall loaded with wooden bowls, tin mugs, and pots of all kinds, along with cloth bags filled with something Carl suspected to be food waiting to be cooked. At the far end, a barrel stood in the corner with a tight lid. The odor of the men, tobacco, and the rum in their cups all mixed up together, spiced by the fragrance of the burning wood, was only a bit better than the smell of the horses outside. But the aroma of the bread seemed to take precedence over the others. They were hungry.
With
out delay the man put together two tin mugs of ground tea leaves watered down with hot water from the pot he took from the left of the fire, just close enough to keep it hot. He handled it with a rolled-up cloth wrapped around his hand to grab the handle up high above the opening of the round, cast iron vessel.
Steam circled out of it and disappeared in the air. A wonderful inviting smell filled the mugs once the hot water met the tea leaves and came forth to encourage the waiting couple to engage in the taste of the savory hot beverage. Beth wet her lips as she watched him. This was going to be a real treat for her, who still felt the cold of their long journey. Soothing tea was just what she needed and something she welcomed with thanks.
As the mugs were handed to them they nodded. He also gave them a name to call him. “My name is Walter—Walter Stanley. I’m here from England to make a new home for me and my family. As you may know, we are fighting for our rights to this land.”
“Yes, I know that—the Revolutionary War. I read a lot about it.”
Walter gave him a quick look. “Read about it? How could you? Were you in town and got a paper on what’s happening here?”
“Oh, never mind; it’s not important.” Carl told him, shrugging his shoulders.
They sat at the table with the other soldiers and the Indian, sipping at their tea. Beth clasped both hands around her mug to warm them as she put it to her lips to sip at the inviting beverage.
Carl grasped the handle of the tin mug then held it to his lips, but instead of drinking he blew on the hot tea inside, raising more steam from the mug. Walter handed them each a piece of the bread he had broken off the large flat piece on the wooden plate. It had to be soaked to soften it. Beth took a piece and held the unleavened bread in her hand. She dipped it in the hot tea and took a taste. “It’s not bad,” she commented and sipped more of her tea. Carl followed, taking a large piece, then ate it with vigor.
Carl needed to know more about Chief Paul. “When do you suppose this man will be coming by?” he asked. “I’d like to talk to him as soon as possible about helping us get back to…uh…our time?”
“Don’t know just when he’ll be along, but in the meantime, we can fix you up in one of the tents outside. That’s if you want your privacy. They are warm and comfortable enough. The women out there can provide you with blankets and beds. They make their beds out of feathers or grass—not bad either. Chief Paul should return soon but can’t say just when.” He walked around the table, looking at them still with curiosity. “Don’t know what else to offer you—we don’t get strangers like you here very often…in fact, not at all.”
Beth spoke up. “What about bathrooms?”
“Bathrooms? I don’t know what you mean, but if it’s a bath you’re looking for, I’m sorry we only have water here to wash with. When it’s warm enough, we go down to the river and soak ourselves, but it’s too cold for that now. You will have to do with water the women can provide for you in one of their larger bowls.”
There was a little smirk on his face as he looked at the other men sitting there with the same kind of expression. He stroked his beard and smiled. “Look, lady, we are in a war here and that does not leave much thought for bathing or grooming the likes of what you may want.”
She put her head down as though embarrassed and said no more about it. The thought of where to go when nature called and nowhere to bath, brush her teeth, comb her hair was unthinkable. This gave her a sick feeling inside. No doubt this would have a greater effect on her than it would on Carl. He saw how she reacted and put his arm around her to ease the look of despair she had in her eyes.
Two of the Indian women came in the door and shuffled to the table with a large pot they set there. It had a smell similar to cooked cabbage. Steam poured from the top of the pot to let them know it was something hot. The woman who carried it had a large piece of hide she used to cover her hands so she could handle the extreme heat of its long handle—their version of pot holders. The other woman set several smaller bowls on the table and some wooden scoopers resembling ladles. The bowls were made of wood but the pot with a long metal handle was cast iron.
“The women have prepared soup for you. They make it with roots and dried beans. They may have some corn in there also. They keep some stored in their huts. It’s not bad. There’s buffalo fat cooked in with it. It gives it a nice flavor.” He motioned for them to sit and try some. “I’m sure they will bring berries they’ve gathered once you’ve eaten the soup.”
With smiles the women turned and went out the door. One of the men sitting next to Carl reached over for a small bowl and scooped some of the soup into it. They watched him so they could see what this meal looked like. A brown-looking liquid with some green things floating around in it made its appearance in his bowl. He scooped up more, put it in his bowl, blew on it and then tasted.
A little nudge on Beth’s arm to give her some encouragement, Carl took a bowl and scooper in hand. She gave him a nod but didn’t look too enthusiastic. But, as it turned out, the soup was not too bad after all—filling, a little spicy, but very good.
Once they ate, they asked about sleeping arrangements. There was no way Carl wanted to have his wife in the cabin with all those men.
Again Walter told them about using one of the smaller huts or a tent outside. Night would be upon them soon.
“Come on, you two. Let me show you around so you don’t have to wonder about things here. We’ll try to make you as comfortable as possible, but remember we are at war and anything can happen.”
Walter walked to the door, opened it then stood waiting for them.
They found the oldest of the Indian women outside, the same one who met them when they entered the fort earlier. She had a hand-woven basket in her hand with berries in it. She held it out to them. “Here, this for you,” she said in her strained, broken English.
Walter smiled at her. “Not now, Hiya. I want to show them around. Where will we put them for the night?” he asked.
She pointed to the tent nearest to the large cabin, the headquarters of the fort. It looked better than most of the others. “I make ready for them,” she told him. “I show you.” She went ahead of them, leading the way, still holding on to the basket of berries, a big smile on her dark wrinkled face. They marched along behind her.
“I think she likes you,” Carl told Beth as they walked along.
The tent was roomier than they thought it would be. Inside, the floor was covered with dried skins. More dried skins to cover them during the cold of night lay folded in the corner. The tent itself was made of heavy burlap trimmed with more animal skins and stood at least six feet tall, but they still had to lower their heads to get through the opening. It looked like it would do—at least for now. What they would confront after this night was unknown. It didn’t look like anyone around there, including Chief Paul, would be able to help them back to their lives in the future. To be stuck this far back in the past was almost unthinkable. Hope was dwindling.
CHAPTER NINE
Sounds of the night frightened Beth so much she couldn’t sleep. Even with the warmth of the skillfully-prepared skins wrapped up around her, she still felt the cold. Carl held her close in an effort to comfort her, but comfort never came. It was hours before the women outside settled down after doing their nightly dancing and socializing. Often laughter rang out from them, but neither Carl nor Beth could understand what they were saying. The glow of a fire only a few yards away seeped in through the slightly parted skins hanging over the entrance of the tent. A wolf howling in the distance made Beth shudder and close her eyes.
Finally stillness settled on them, but it only made it worse for Beth. Her imagination went wild for a time until she gradually began to relax and close her eyes in her sleeping husband’s arms. The two rested silently in a time, a time in the past they knew little about.
* * *
The sound of restless horses outside signaled morning had arrived. From the loud commotion, they assumed it was others
who came into the fort on horseback. Carl sat up but held his hand on Beth’s chest to keep her down until he could look out to determine what was going on. She lifted her head just enough to also see out the narrow opening. Both had their hearts up in their throats and beating fast. Beth grabbed his hand.
“What is it? Is it more Indians?”
“No, it’s soldiers and Indians.”
They rose up on their knees. Carl stuck his head out to have a better look. Four horses were being tied to the hitching post by two soldiers and two Indians. The one soldier wore a uniform with a long coat of dark blue trimmed with white down, the front lined with brass buttons. He looked like he was giving the others orders of some sort. Carl strained to hear what was said, but the noise of the Indian women crowding around them made it impossible. The other white man, dressed in old torn clothes of what could be heavy wool and linen, held a black hat in his hand as he stood next to the Indians who were busy tying the horses to the post. They wore Indian gear of stretched skins pulled together with strings of leather that hung from their pants and ponchos. Their hair hung long in braids, topped with bands around their foreheads with one feather at the back.
Beth sat back on her heals. “Do you think that’s Chief Paul?”
“It’s a good possibility. One of them looks like he’s in charge—a little worn-out looking, but with a stature of authority. They all appeared to have been in some kind of battle. The one had a cloth wrapped around his leg, with blood on it.”
“How can you tell with all the dirt? These guys look like they haven’t had a change of clothes or a bath in months. How do they avoid infections?”
“I’m sure they haven’t cleaned up in awhile, but where would they get a tub? Maybe they wash in the river.”
Outside That Door Page 9