Outside That Door

by Jennifer Robins

  The cabin was very much like the first one they’d stayed in but in better shape. The window had large shutters, closed tight to keep the cold or anything else out, the door made of heavy wood and the floors of thick wood planks that didn’t squeak when they were walked on. A fire burned in the large walk-in fireplace built of stone that took up most of the side wall. It generated heat to the whole interior. Oil lamps burned on the long table in the middle of the room. Wooden chairs instead of benches sat on both sides of the table. It looked like they had been eating. The large tin plate in the center of the table still held a few pieces of the dry flatbread they had made. All three visitors were invited to sit and enjoy the offering. The old Indian went to the counter supported by tree limbs, to get more of the bread. He then filled a tin pitcher with water to bring to the table.

  “Our supplies have not yet arrived from the ship we’ve been waiting for. Sorry for the little we can offer,” the young soldier said, his brows furrowed. “We don’t always get things we need in a timely manner—even the trading posts are almost empty, these days—but you’ll be warm here tonight, and in the morning you can be on your way.”

  “Do you know where we are headed?” Carl asked.

  “Most likely the farm east of here. The folks there are happy to help anyone in need. They are Christians—true to their faith. You will be all right there.” His eyes gave Carl the once-over. “Where are you from, may I ask?”

  “You may not understand, but we are from…” He hesitated. “It’s a place you wouldn’t know about. A very different place.” Carl’s eyes lowered to avoid contact with his.

  “Well, all right then, but you sure look different in those clothes. I’d like to know where you got them.” The young man reached over and touched the sleeve of Carl’s jacket.

  “Again, I don’t think you would understand, but I got them from where we came from.” He picked up his backpack and opened it. “Here let me show some things from where I came from.” He pulled out the flashlight, held it up to them then turned it on, but this time it didn’t come on. He shook it but there was nothing. “Oh, great!”

  Beth came up beside him. “I think we used up the batteries. We had the thing on so much you know.” She grabbed it and put it back into the backpack. “Let’s just forget it for now.”

  The men looked on in utter amazement, but when she closed the large bag, they turned away to resume their effort to make these strangers of theirs feel at ease.

  They soaked the bread in the water and ate while the others stood around staring at them. Beth felt strange with them looking on at them, but hunger had her eating the flat, tasteless bread just the same. She was not only hungry but very tired, just like her exhausted husband. It was hard to believe they would be able to sleep in this crowded cabin with Indians and a smelly, dirty soldier with his long tangled beard, who couldn’t keep his eyes off them. But the body screamed out for rest and sleep that could not be ignored. Beth could have laid her head right down on the table, but instead, she walked over to the fire to warm her cold hands. Her hair had not been brushed for days and hung limp and tangled around her shoulders. It even stuck to her neck from all the dust that had settled in it. What she wouldn’t give for a hot bath and some real sweet-smelling shampoo.

  Carl watched her as she held her hand out to the open fire. The light from the flames set a bright orange glow on her, highlighting all her wonderful features. She looked beautiful standing there, regardless of her need for soap and water. He almost forgot how unhappy she was. His thoughts ventured back into the future where, at this time of night, he would be enjoying a glass of wine with her, light from the fire in their cabin shining on her so he could enjoy the beauty of her figure through a sheer lacy nightgown. He would have her right there on the thick throw rug.

  His thoughts were interrupted by their guide, who tapped him on the shoulder and handed Carl a tin cup with some rum in it. “Drink,” Bear’s Friend told him.

  Rum with no Coke was just not the same, but he drank it anyway. It warmed going down, made him feel more relaxed. He set the dented tin cup on the table and nodded to the men in a kind of thanks.

  The night closed in on them, and the dark skies overhead threatened rain again. Beth took to the makeshift mattress while Carl curled up on the floor next to her with a blanket wrapped around the two of them. It felt nice to hold her again—comforting. The other men settled down on the floor across from them, while the older Indian sat in a chair by the door. The large room became still, with only the sound of crackling wood in the fireplace, but outside was filled with the night’s symphony.

  Noises during the long hours of the night woke Carl often. Beth slept without disturbance. The snoring of the young soldier didn’t overcome the sounds outside. When he heard a wolf howl, he sat up and looked around. None of the others seemed bothered by it, but then again, they were used to this life in the wilderness. He lay his head back down and held his arm around Beth, who still slept, but he could see all around the room and kept a watchful eye out for anything strange.

  The older Indian at the door stood and began to walk around. Carl watched as the old man went to the canteen on the table and drank from it. His form looked strange in the dimly lit cabin—like a ghost moving about—more like floating. He walked so light, so soft, with slow and careful steps.

  When the old one looked over at them Carl closed his eyes to pretend he was sleeping. When he opened them again the old Indian had sat back down in the chair by the door.

  No longer could he hold his eyes open, and even with the sounds of the night, he soon fell asleep with the rest of them.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Sounds of the nervous horses outside had the men in the cabin racing to the door to see what the commotion was all about. Beth sat straight up from the flat mattress and waited while she bit down on the sleeve of her jacket. The door opened, spilling a ray of sunlight across the floor to fill the cabin with life and much-needed hope for a better day.

  Outside, the first signs of morning had the sun climbing up over the treetops. The men spotted a black bear scurrying to retreat when it saw them appear at the door. The horses reared up in an uneasy fashion as they pawed at the ground, mud flying up from the rear hooves.

  The Indian men laughed and walked back inside while the young soldier calmed the horses with gentle petting of the sides of their faces along with a pat on the shoulders. His gentle words were barely heard, but the horses responded well to his soft voice. Carl followed the others inside, a smile on his face.

  He walked up to Beth, held his hand out to help her up. “Nothing to worry about. It was just a nosey bear who thought he was invited to breakfast.”

  Beth let him pull her to her feet. “Oh no! Is it still out there?” Her eyes darted toward the door.

  “No, when it saw all the troops come through the door, it high-tailed right out of here.”

  “When can we leave?”

  “We should be on our way again soon. I don’t think our guide will linger too long here. He wants to get to—what was it they said? Oh yeah, that farm with those nice people who will put us up until we can figure out how to get back—should I say… to the future? I wonder how much farther this farm is? Hope we get there before too long. I don’t really like being out here with wolves, bears, and who knows what.”

  “I hope they can offer some kind of means for a bath,” she told him as they walked to the table and sat down. “I guess we just wait here to be on our way.” She looked around the room until she saw Bear’s Friend. “There he is. Has he said anything about going?”

  Carl shrugged his shoulders. “Not yet.”

  No sooner had he said it when their Indian guide came up to them. “We go soon; eat first.”

  The only thing offered was some water collected in a cast iron pan from the rain during the night, set out on the front porch, and a small handful of soaked and cooked beans laid out on a tin plate. Bear’s Friend filled his canteen halfway with wate
r, then poured a little rum in it to fill it to capacity.

  Everyone sat at the table to eat. The Indians needed no forks or spoons; they just scooped the beans up in their hands and stuffed them into their mouths, while the soldiers used some bent spoons, which they also offered. Beth wondered how long this dinnerware had been around and used when she picked it up to give it a thorough check.

  The older Indian man came in with his arms loaded down with large logs for the fire. He let them drop from his hold as he came up to the front of the open stone fireplace. His hand reached up to his left shoulder to rub the pain away, and then he took a log and hurled it onto the glowing wood of what was left of last night’s fire. Beth glanced over at him—shook her head as she watched the old man struggle with another log.

  They were ready to go once the horses had been watered and fed by one of the Indians. The blankets were on their backs, the reins secure, and they were ready to be mounted. Beth rubbed her backside, knowing all too well how it would be hurting again soon.

  The small group who welcomed them on their arrival stood at the open door and waved to them as they rode out on their journey to the farm. Single file, the Indian guide in front, Beth in the middle again, they were on their way.

  Raindrops from the steady downpour during the night clung to the branches of the small bushes on both sides of them. Pools of water rested lazily on the ground, only to be disturbed by the hooves of the horses stomping through them with mud clinging tightly halfway up their legs. Beth looked down and shuddered at the thought of having to walk in that mud all this way on foot. Her sore bottom didn’t seem so bad after all.

  Occasional sounds of the wildlife in the forest became so much a part of it all that, after a while, they hardly paid attention to it. Bear’s Friend would stop and listen when the sounds were too loud or unusual. He pulled on the reins to halt his horse, his head held high while he put his ears to the wind.

  At times, he would stay at a standstill so long it would make them nervous as their eyes wandered all around, searching for a sudden surprise. But then they would move on with the two of them behind him letting out a sigh of relief.

  At last, they came to a large clearing with many scattered trees and a hillside that dipped down into a valley. The sight of a log cabin surrounded by other buildings, including a barn, stirred their hope. The land around it went out as far as they could see—fields of tilled land, a sight for sore eyes.

  They stood at the top of the hillside peering down at their temporary home—at least, they hoped it would be temporary. Beth leaned forward on the back of the horse to get a better look at the scene before them. Carl sat beside her and reached over to pat her on the thigh. He smiled when she looked up at him. Their happy guide stared ahead, ready to proceed down to the place he was instructed to take them. The journey was finally over. With his hand in the air, he waved the two misplaced persons to follow him down the gradual incline to the farm.

  A whiff of the refreshing smell of hay brought another smile to Carl’s face. He called out to Bear’s Friend, “Is this the farm where we will be staying?”

  The tired Indian turned his head around. “Yes, farm here. Come.”

  Out on the porch, a woman stood with a small child at her side. She wore a long, light blue cotton skirt covered with a large white apron, with a bib to cover the white blouse that was a little too large on her. The child hugged a small blanket as she watched along with what was surely her mother as the strangers rode up to the cabin. The woman strained to see them coming, her arms folded in front of her, a serious look on her face. With no way of communicating other than by travel on horseback, she had no idea who was approaching.

  Behind her came a man in a pair of coveralls over a long-sleeved grey shirt. He pushed her aside to take her place in front of the stairs leading up to the front door. The little child held tight to her mother’s leg, burying her head deep into her hands as she peeked through little fingers at the strangers getting ready to dismount their horses.

  Bear’s Friend climbed the stairs. A familiar face to them, they both smiled at him but looked around him, eyes peering at these strange people he brought with him.

  The tall Indian guide held up his hand, pointing to the couple still waiting to be invited. “You help them. Yes?” Then he motioned for them to come up to the porch.

  The two weary ones with their strange clothes made their way up to the waiting couple standing with their Indian guide.

  The small child rushed to hide behind her mother who put her hand on the child’s head to shield her. Eyes were all over them like they were some kind of spectacle in a traveling circus sideshow. Tickets, please, Beth thought as she stared back at them. She also wondered how her husband would explain to these people where they came from. The way they were gaping at them, she was sure they would never understand or believe him. This should be good. She smiled politely even though her bottom was throbbing.

  Once the awkward introductions were made, they were all invited to come into the cabin. The woman, Mrs. Williams, offered tea as she set the cups on the table, her eyes never leaving Beth for more than a split second. A small-framed woman, short in height, slightly overweight, she stared at them while she tucked a strand of her light brown hair up under the white bonnet she wore. Nothing could have made Beth more uncomfortable than those green eyes scanning her from top to bottom. But Beth smiled back at her in an attempt to put the poor inquisitive woman at ease and turn her own nerves around.

  The young couple with just the little girl had been there for some time, seeking a life in this vast wilderness—a new country free from the grips of the king and queen. Thomas Williams wore the dirt of the land on his weathered hands. His face was darkened from the work out in the rays of the summer sun. A proud man, he stood six feet tall and had the build of an ox. He offered his hand to Carl.

  “Welcome to our humble home. You are welcome to stay here as long as you need to.”

  The settlers helped one another no matter where anyone came from, just as long they were not of the British Army or the renegade Indians who mostly moved up north. There would be plenty of time for questions and answers.

  The threat of Indian invasion had diminished considerably since the last battle at Fort Stanwix, although an occasional few had made their appearance, leaving a blood-bath of scalped victims to let them know they were still around. How well that horrible memory lingered in Beth’s and Carl’s minds. Even the stench of their dead bodies had a distinct effect on them they would never forget.

  Would they be safe here on this simple little farm with these simple farm folks? They certainly hoped so. Where was the family of that chief Indian they were told about? They had the impression he would be the one to help them, and now, what had happened to all of that?

  There was only one way to find out—ask. Carl sat at the table with his wife, their hosts sat across from them. “Would you have any idea about Chief Paul who has a family somewhere around here? He has helped the Americans fight the British, I was told. Do you know who I mean?” he directed his question at Tom Williams.

  Thomas smiled wide. “Yes, Chief Paul. I know who you’re talking about. Why?”

  “Well, you see…” Carl went on, trying to explain how the two of them came to be here from another time in the future, but the man only frowned and shook his head, so Carl stopped. “I think this Chief Paul can help us return to our own home. We were told he has special gifts…so to speak.”

  Parting his tightly held-together brows, Tom replied, “He often comes this way when going to his place, but we never know when. He just stops in unexpected.” He paused with a long steady stare at Carl. “Where, may I ask, are you from? And those clothes?”

  “My wife and I are from another time, or should I say another place not known to all of you, but we are not here by choice. You see—” He shook his head. “It’s hard to explain. How often does Chief Paul just stop by?”

  Tom leaned back in his chair and stroked hi
s rough-shaven chin. “Sometimes days, sometimes weeks. We never know for sure.” He poured tea from a lovely china teapot with a small floral design which matched the dainty cups his wife had set out for them. It was certain they didn’t use this fine tableware every day. They had watched Helen climb on a stool to bring them down from a cabinet too high for her size. She looked on with pride at them sitting on the long wood table. Beth was sure she brought them with her from England.

  An old English blend of tea was a pleasant surprise. Beth watched the few tea leaves settle at the bottom of her cup as she set it down, after sipping most of the hot, delicate beverage. It warmed her and made her feel more at ease. The softness of this frontier woman had Beth thinking of her more as a mother figure than someone her own age—a woman much older than her years.

  “Have you come far?” Helen asked, her eyes inspecting Beth’s hands and the rings she wore. “Those are very beautiful rings. I haven’t seen any like that since we left England,” she commented. She lowered her own hand from the table as it was no match for Beth’s clean, soft white hands with polished nails.

  “Yes, it’s my engagement and wedding ring. Carl bought them for me at…” She stumbled for words of a place. “I’m not sure where.” Her eyes shifted to Carl’s stare who watched with concern while he sipped at his tea. He looked up from his cup and smiled at her.

  It was far from being a conventional tea party, but the Williams tried their best to make them feel welcomed. Thomas Williams offered Carl a pipe and some tobacco but Carl declined, saying he didn’t smoke, but he thanked him anyway. Even with their humble means, the Williams were willing to share what little they had.

  Sleeping arrangements with some kind of privacy for the lost couple left only one separate room off the main living area—a bedroom. Then there was the ladder providing access to a loft over the one large room of the cabin. Of course, there was the barn. What a frightful thought! entered Beth’s mind. Immediately the Williams offered their bedroom and said they would sleep out in the area by the fireplace. The little girl, Annie, had her place in the loft.