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 water, 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 his 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.
“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 door 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.