by Zina Abbott
Do you still consider me a pleasure to converse with? Have I just squashed all my hope you will continue to have anything to do with me?
Jake once more looked into Hannah’s face as he spoke words which she guessed he carefully measured in his mind before they left his lips.
“I don’t know what to say, Miss Atwell. The government decides the policies. The generals in the Army are tasked to make the treaties while following those policies. Once the treaties are sent to Congress, they might or might not approve what was agreed upon. As for the rest of us in the Army, we are to enforce the decisions made, all while protecting our citizens.” He paused and focused his gaze on Hannah’s. “I appreciate you sharing your insight with me, Miss Atwell.”
“It sounds like the Army sometimes finds itself in a difficult position.”
“It does, especially when the problems are caused by Americans who do not follow the laws and treaties, but go after what they want, regardless of the promises made to the natives.” He hesitated. “I feel to warn you, Miss Atwell, to be careful with whom you share your feelings and concerns regarding the Indian question. There are many, particularly in the military, who have absolutely no sympathy for the plight of the natives. Many hate them outright and think they should be destroyed off the face of the earth.” He shook his head. “You might have heard of the massacre at Sand Creek by some of the Colorado Volunteers. Of all the bands they could have attacked, they killed a group of Cheyenne who had always cooperated with whites and who already agreed to a treaty that would put them on a reservation. They camped under a white flag of truce. You have no idea how much difficulty that incident has caused other military units trying to parley with the tribes and finalize agreements. Unfortunately, those Colorado soldiers are not alone in their attitude that the only good Indian is a dead Indian.” He stopped and turned to Hannah. “You will not always find an appreciative audience for your sentiments, especially at Fort Riley.”
Hannah felt her throat tightened. There goes my hope of one day becoming an officer’s wife. She forced her words out over the tightness in her vocal cords. “What of you, Lieutenant? Are you among those who wish to destroy all the native population? Are you among those who do not appreciate my sentiment?” When he shook his head, she felt a wave of relief flow over her.
“No. It is our mandate to make treaties to free up land for westward expansion and still allow the natives sufficient territory for their needs. I will be the first to admit, though, it’s difficult to feel sympathy for people who are trying to kill you or who have killed your compatriots.”
Hannah looked away. “I suppose you’re right. My brother joined the 16th Kansas Volunteer Cavalry, not so much to fight the Southerners, but to protect families like ours from attacks by the hostile natives—and bushwhackers. Salina had to deal with them both several years ago.” She sighed wistfully. “I know many volunteer regiments are being dismantled. I hope, now the war is all but over, Otto will be mustered out soon and return home.” She turned back in time to see Jake’s jaw tighten. As she studied him, she felt a surge of apprehension course through her. He knows something.
“For your sake, I share that hope.” Jake cleared his throat. “You say your mother is from one of the German nations?”
Hannah pursed her lips. Jake had deliberately changed the subject. She suspected, if that was the case, if he chose not to tell her, it was probably because it was confidential. As much as she wished to wheedle and pry it out of him, something told her she would drive him away completely if she tried. Instead, she exhaled and forced a smile. “She’s from Pennsylvania. My maternal grandfather was from Hesse. He came here during the Revolutionary War. He was one of the captured soldiers who were given a choice by General Washington of being a prisoner of war or taking an oath to never take up arms against the Americans again in exchange for land.”
“Yes, I remember studying about that. A brilliant move on the part of General Washington.”
“Needless to say, he took the land and was sent to live among the German-speaking Americans in Pennsylvania. He had no stake in that war. He only served in the Hessian Army because, as a younger son who could not inherit land in Hesse, which meant he couldn’t marry, he was pressed into service. Many years later, he married my grandmother. Her family was originally from the Palatine area. That’s how it came about my mother was raised in a German-speaking home. She spoke mostly German to my older brother and I when we were young, until my father insisted that we must speak only in English, even at home.”
Jake turned to the left and continued walking with Hannah along the edge of the garden. “It sounds like it gave you the advantage of knowing two languages, assuming you can still remember the German of your childhood.”
“I do…mostly. And by studying geography, I have been interested to learn not only where Pennsylvania is, but where Hesse and the Palatine in Europe are. I was surprised to learn, land-wise, Hesse was not that big. It must have a lot of people living there, though. It raised a large army to fight as mercenaries for the British.”
“You are bringing to mind my early history lessons. My Burdock ancestors came from England, although family tradition says the name was originally French. Supposedly, my one ancient Burdock ancestor followed William the Conqueror into England as part of the Norman invasion. However, my branch of the family has been in North America for many generations. They settled near Baltimore and are in cross-Atlantic commerce, which has been strained in recent years due to the recent war. My father, a younger son, is an attorney.”
Hannah’s shoulders twitched and, before she realized what she did, she lifted her fingers from Jake’s arm and tightened them into a fist. She turned her face away from him and blinked, hoping he would not see the start of her tears. His father is a lawyer. His family is well-do-do. That’s how he got into West Point. What could he see in a simple farm girl like me?
The warmth of Jake’s fingers covered her fist.
Hannah relaxed her hand so it once again rested in the crook of his elbow.
“I enjoy speaking with you, Miss Atwell. You have more to say than shallow flirtations. I find your thoughts and insights interesting.”
Hannah could hardly believe her ears. She slowly turned her head to study his face. His smile appeared to be sincere. Was he being honest, or did he merely offer her a crumb of appeasement?
“Lt. Burdock, as pleasant as this visit has been, we need to be on our way.”
Startled by Capt. Prescott’s booming voice, Hannah flinched. She released Jake’s arm and held out her hand to receive his now-empty cup. “Thank you for visiting with me today, Lieutenant.” She turned and looked ahead, only to realize both the captain and her father now focused their attention on her and Jake.
Hannah glanced at Jake before she stared at the ground in front of her. She started walking toward the porch.
“I also have enjoyed our visit very much.” Instead of rushing to join Capt. Prescott and the two privates whose grins widened as they watched Hannah and Jake approach, Jake kept his steps measured and slow. He stayed by Hannah’s side and veered toward the tray partially filled with empty cups that sat on the outward edge of the front porch on the near side of the step.
Hannah noticed that her mother and sister waited several feet in front of the tray—far enough from her father to allow him to conduct his business with Capt. Prescott without interference, yet positioned such, Hannah suspected, so her mother could keep an eye on her oldest daughter. Hannah saw no signs of either Carl or Henry. She guessed they had been sent away to continue their tasks for the day or to collect the military horses.
Hannah’s entire being tingled with awareness, and she sensed more than saw Jake lean toward her and speak in quiet tones next to her ear.
“Miss Atwell, I hope to stop by your home on my way back to Fort Riley, unless Capt. Prescott assigns me to go with the men from the Salina Stockade on to Fort Ellsworth. If it is agreeable, when I’m in the area, I would like to v
isit with you again. If not, might I ask you to correspond with me when your time allows?”
Hannah’s heart soared. He does still wish to see me again, even after all I said. Keeping her gaze lowered, she turned her face toward him. “Yes, to both, Lieutenant. Do you wish me to direct my letters to Fort Riley or someplace else?”
Jake leaned over and spoke directly into her ear. “Fort Riley will do. They’ll forward my correspondence.” He straightened and nodded as his gaze met that of Hannah’s father.
They arrived within hearing distance of Carlotte. Hannah dared not say more. She looked down once she realized Capt. Prescott glared at Jake. She turned her gaze back in time to see him jerk his head in the direction of where the two privates, who had briefly left to meet Carl and Henry returning with the horses, now waited at the far side of the yard.
Their empty cups still in her hands, Hannah continued to stand next to the stair as she watched Jake thank her mother for the refreshments before he broke into quick, long strides to join his captain. He shook hands with her father, then, once again donning his riding gloves with their stiff, leather gauntlets, walked with Capt. Prescott toward the two privates holding the reins of all four horses. She sighed as the soldiers rode out of the Atwell yard.
As her mother turned, and her gaze met Hannah’s, Hannah knew it was only a matter of time until her mother questioned her about her conversation with Jake Burdock. Anything Hannah offered would be weighed in on in order for her mother to determine the wisdom—or lack of wisdom, as she perceived it—of everything said and done. She dared not express annoyance over what she knew was coming, especially if her father forced his way into the conversation. Instead, she set down the cups and picked up the tray. Before her mother reached her side, she turned toward the front door to carry the used cups inside.
Why do they expect me to answer for everything I say or do? Why can’t I make up my own mind about my life? I’m tired of being the perfect, obedient daughter.
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Chapter 7
~o0o~
Salina, Kansas
April 27, 1865
J ake again admired the vertical logs of the Salina Stockade. Not long after the first time he arrived in Salina, he was told the citizens had constructed the oval fortification out of eighteen-foot split logs placed upright and buried three feet in the ground. He glanced at the beams of sunlight glimmering through the portals cut for rifle placements. A military construction crew could not have done much better.
The local citizens, not the Army, obtained the logs and built the stockade. The locals manned it until the commander at Fort Riley decided the Indian threat was sufficient to warrant placing a small garrison at the stockade. He thought it a shame that, now the Army was pulling out of Salina, the logs circling the stockade could not be dismantled and forwarded to a military fort where wood was even more scare than in Salina.
Jake walked into the room inside the fortifications currently used as the stockade’s headquarters. He approached and saluted Capt. Prescott. “Reporting as ordered, sir.”
Capt. Prescott returned the salute. “At ease, Lieutenant.” He waved in the direction of a chair next to a table that served as a desk. “Please be seated.”
After both men settled in their respective chairs, the captain leaned forward and, fingers interlaced, rested his forearms on the table. “Well, Lieutenant, we’ve both surveyed what we have here at the stockade, plus I’ve looked over the records for the last few months, as have you, correct?”
“Yes, sir, particularly those dealing with supplies and munitions.”
The captain leaned back in his chair. “I’ve made the decision which I suspected would be the case before we arrived. It’s not worth the effort in manpower or mulepower to transport what’s here back to Fort Riley, only to warehouse everything before restocking a new train to take them out west. I see no point in covering the same ground twice. Except those necessary supplies and records that need to be returned to Riley, I’m forwarding most of the supplies to Fort Ellsworth.”
“Yes, sir. I agree, that sounds reasonable. I’m sure the men there will appreciate receiving them.”
“You’re going with them.”
Jake kept his face expressionless and nodded. He had known since before they left Fort Riley that it was a strong possibility he would go with the supplies from the stockade. He was being groomed to oversee the quartermaster duties in the forts being built to the west. However, after visiting again with Hannah Atwell, he had hoped to see her one more time before he was officially assigned to his new detail. “Yes, sir. Have you decided when we will be moving out?”
“If I don’t miss my guess, the Jones Train and the other one traveling with him to Santa Fe should stop outside of town by tonight. When they depart in the morning, I want our wagons—along with you and half the platoon that came with us—to ride with them as escort. There’s enough subsistence rations left here to send for our men without straining the resources of the forts out west to feed them before they return.” He paused and held up his palm. “Don’t worry, I’m sending Sgt. Marsh with you. He’s had combat experience, albeit it’s been with the rebels, not the natives. Corporal Anders will do fine for leading the other section back to Fort Riley.”
Jake tamped down his annoyance. It had not been his role to lead men into battle during the last year and a half he served since graduating from West Point, but he had performed his quartermaster duties under fire more than once. Protecting freight wagons or rail cars carrying ordnance and supplies from capture by an enemy hungry for both was no simple task.
“I’ll give you Pvt. Mulroney, since you seemed to be impressed with him. If you wish, you may consider him as an assistant. He’s Irish, but my guess is, he’s second generation. That doesn’t mean he’s had any formal education, so make sure he can read and write first, or you’ll have to choose someone else. He has had combat experience, though, which will come in handy where you’re headed.” Prescott paused as he considered. “Pvt. Brown, I’m not so sure about.”
“Exactly where am I being detailed, Captain?”
“First, Ellsworth. I don’t think the freight trains will have any issues between here and there. I’m not happy Mr. Jones seemed more intent on supplying a sutler that, to my knowledge, does not have a contract with the Army. I need you to review that situation, too. If he doesn’t have all the required paperwork, he needs to set himself up as a trader. The Army won’t allow him to place liens on wages to cover purchases, otherwise.”
“Yes, sir. I’ll see to that.”
“Second, I need you to escort the trains going south as far as Fort Zarah. I know Jones is carrying supplies necessary for Fort Union. I’m concerned his train, even combined with the other one traveling with him, may not be big enough to deter attacks from hostiles. Unless Second Lieutenant Allen Ellsworth decides to send his own men as escort, I want you and the squad I’m sending with you to escort them as far as Ft. Zarah.”
Again, Jake fought back annoyance. Escort duty did not fall to the quartermaster department. Usually, troopers providing escort was headed by a sergeant instead of a commissioned officer, and it was done according to a schedule so the patrol contingent from the next fort in the line knew when to have their men at the rendezvous point. Even if the timing was right for the scheduled escort duty, he doubted 2nd Lt. Ellsworth would use his own men if he knew the troopers accompanying him had been ordered to see to it escort was provided, even if Jake and his men must do it themselves.
The captain shook his head. “Major General Curtis naming a fort after a second lieutenant surprised me. We had numerous high-ranking officers who died in combat while serving in this recent war. It would have been fitting to honor one of them.”
“I don’t know why, sir. In spite of the blockhouse he instructed 2nd Lt. Ellsworth and his men to complete, I understand there’s not much there. I believe many thought the site would be a te
mporary camp.”
“I suppose you’re right. What they name the forts is not my concern; supplying them is. Now they have the task of protecting the stagecoach line to Denver, we’ll see what happens out that way.” As if in thought, Capt. Prescott paused, and then he focused is gaze on Jake once more. “Nevertheless, from Fort Zarah on to Fort Union, the forts should send escorts, especially once they understand the freight train carries military supplies.” Capt. Prescott shook his head, followed by words muttered under his breath. “I hope Mr. Jones is intelligent enough to know to go the mountain route, even though it’s longer. Better chance of him getting there unmolested once he leaves Bent’s Fort.”
“I agree.” However, Jake doubted the man would take the safe way instead of the more dangerous Cimarron Cutoff. Since the freight trains were contracted based on a set rate per pound per hundred miles, taking the longer, but safer road with better water for his animals would add one hundred miles and ten days to his journey. Since he used wagons instead of pack mules, the mountain route would be harder on his animals. Unfortunately, along the Cimarron Cutoff, there was a greater chance of attacks by hostiles, especially the Plains Apaches.
Prescott inhaled deeply. “Over the next several months, I need to you to inspect the forts out that way and provide me with detailed reports of their true status and requirements. As you know, many requests cross my desk. I need to know how many are legitimate and how many are lists of what they think they can wheedle out of the government.”
Jake’s heart sank. He began to suspect it would be some time before he could expect to see civilization again. Once it was determined which fort would serve as his base of operations, he would need to send for his belongings. “I’ll do that, Captain. I suspect, for the most part, with those posts being more camps than forts, the facilities leave much to be desired.”