Claude Ramsey

     My natural reaction was to turn and haul my skinny little hippie ass back up that mountain as fast as last nights brown rice would take me. Against my instincts I stayed put. I held my ground in awe of this apparition. He called his dogs away from me and came to the fence. I stood on one side with my back to the big dark scary woods. He stood on the other side with his back to the past. Behind him was a perfect little frame cabin, a traditional cabin with perfect stone fireplace and a small kitchen room in the back. No car no tractor no chainsaw. At this point my life was changed. At this exact moment when I stood face to face with Claude Ramsey I had a clear idea what I was going to do. This wasn't 1972 or even 1932. I had stumbled on someone living in 1860. Whatever it was that had chased me, or brought me here was telling me why. Now I knew. His face was thin with stubble, not a beard. His hair was cut, not very long, self- trimmed and rough. His two front teeth protruded a bit and were tobacco stained. He was tall enough and very thin. His eyes were a dark blue. I had long hair, I wore Levis, a t-shirt and an army surplus jacket. On my head I wore an old green army hat. I was a 1972 drop out, he was an 1860 holdover. I told him my name. I told him I was looking for some ponies. He said he hadn't seen them. He said his name was Claude and he invited me to his house to warm by the fire. I climbed over the fence and we walked with the dogs about fifty yards to the cabin. The door was left cracked open, he never closed it all the way. Inside was the sleeping and living area containing two common beds with big stuffed mattresses covered by old quilts. The small back kitchen room had a "NeverFail" cook stove and a primitive table. Cast iron skillets and wash pans hung on the wall. There was a flintlock over the front door. We sat in common chairs by the fire. He leaned back on two legs and listened intently while I told him my story.          Continue Story