Written for Steemit: A love story occurs during a time anomaly. A woman from today somehow steps into an anomaly and meets a cowboy asleep on his ranch, in his bed, in the 1850's. ©Jeff Kubitz 2016 - All Rights Reserved.

Song of Angels - Chapter 6

Mindy Woczlewski courtesy of Nastya Muratokova

Please read and vote for the previous chapters:

Song of Angels - Chapter 1

Song of Angels - Chapter 2

Song of Angels - Chapter 3

Song of Angels - Chapter 4

Song of Angels - Chapter 5

Mindy smiled a smile like she had never smiled. Mindy did not see them last night.

There were two tin coffee cups on the small table with two chairs in the corner of the parlor opposite the stove. She did not drink coffee, normally. She walked to the table and saw one cup was used. She took the other cup for herself and poured herself coffee from the pot. So thirsty, the java was like nectar. She sipped: she revived. Her eyes explored the room.

She saw a cloth covering something on the counter and lifted the cloth to find a pan of biscuits. Several were missing. They were cold to her touch. Though starving, she carried the pan to the stove and set them atop to warm. She turned them every so often so the biscuits would not burn and as they warmed her hunger cried out. She found a pan, put it on the stove, and dropped the ice from the basin into the pan. The ice sizzled and cracked against the sudden heat.

She bit into the first biscuit and thought to grab the pitcher from the bedroom to set it next to the stove to thaw. When she set the pitcher down on the floor next to the stove she realized that the floor was some sort of packed dirt or clay, worn smooth and even throughout both rooms. She had never seen a floor like this before in her life. She saw the churn.

She walked over to the corner behind the table. She saw what appeared to be a small butter churn with a handle short enough to use while sitting at the table or in the chair. She pulled up the handle and creamy butter dripped from the knob.

She put the handle down pulled the churn up to the table and dripped some butter over the biscuit.
She took a bite of the buttered biscuit. The best she had ever tasted, well maybe not the best but certainly her hunger was sated. She ate the rest of the biscuits in the pan and was completely filled.

The ice in the pan on the stove had heated to warm water. She carried the pan to the back to wash her face in front of the mirror. She opened her cellular phone so there would be light enough to clearly see to wash. She had no bars. She could not call her boss Mel (as she thought She realized Mel was gone) to tell him she was snowed in at a remote cabin somewhere in the desert of western Utah. But a bar of soap, an ancient looking bar of soap, and a washcloth was visible to her left up against the wall.

She had some moisturizing cream in her purse that she used to aid in the removal of the smeared and run make-up. Even with the cream, it was very difficult to scrub her face clean. Finally, after several minutes and becoming cold she admired her face without all the paint. Except for her hair, she was presentable. She brushed her hair and pulled it back into a ponytail that revealed her ears. Satisfied with her head, she decided to wash her private parts clean as well, without stripping by reaching up under her shirt and down her pants.

The water was very dirty but Mindy felt much better now that she was no longer hungry and no longer dirty. She looked at herself in the mirror one more time and agreed she was presentable and said to herself, this was never the way I imagined it would be, where it would be, or who it would be with but it had to happen sometime and I am glad it happened now, here, and with Cyrus.

Mindy dumped the water from the basin into the chamber pot. Since she had nothing to do, she decided to straighten the bed. She checked for blood in the bed, but there was none, which she thought very odd. She would have thought there would be a great deal of blood but there was not a drop. She straightened the blankets. There were no sheets. She put the two pillows back at the top of the bed. They appeared handmade. She was cold so she took her purse and phone to the overstuffed chair next to the stove, sat down, and basked in the warmth.

Mindy was so comfortable in the darkness of the house lit only by the light that escaped from the cracks and vents of the stove. Lit only by the light that came in round the door. Shadows danced on the walls and she was tired, still very sore. The walk and lying with Cyrus was much more exercise than she usually had though she worked out or walked whenever she could. I wonder if Cyrus sleeps in this chair Mindy thought. And I wonder why I feel so comfortable here as if I had come home.

Her chin dropped to her chest in spite of the coffee and she was fast asleep. Mindy had never bothered to open the door or look outside.

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