Hannah's Handkerchief

by Zina Abbott

“Kizzie, for one. Actually, she usually accuses me of that when she thinks people are comparing us and finding fault with her. She rarely ever says it to my face.” Hannah shrugged. “Carl and Henry do, too, and Otto used to, especially when they thought I sweet-talked you or Papa into giving me my way. Sometimes, they got angry when I was rewarded for doing what I was told.” Hannah looked over until her gaze met her mother’s. “I liked being thought of as the sweet, obedient child. I wanted you and Papa to be pleased with me. But I’m older now, Mama. I want to be what I want to be, not what you and Papa want me to be.”

  “Only the best for you we want, Hannah—what’s right.”

  “I know. But yours and Papa’s idea of the best and what’s right and mine might not be the same. Kizzie will marry Mr. Jones soon, and he doesn’t mind that she likes to wear trousers and a boy’s shirt. Then there is that horrid slouch hat she loves. But, that’s her and what she wants. She’ll be allowed to wear clothes like that and ride with her husband when he travels with his freight train.”

  Carlotte turned to Hannah and blinked. “Trousers now you want to wear?”

  “No, Mama. I want to be able make my own choices without my family criticizing me.”

  Carlotte shook her head and focused her gaze on her stitches. “When children she has, Kizzie maybe thinks living in a house is better.”

  Hannah giggled. “I hope so. Actually, for now, she and Leander will live in that house behind his father’s store when they aren’t traveling.” She felt her body deflate. How could she tell her mother the things that were important to her without sounding like a silly child?

  “What, Hannah? What do you want?”

  Hannah licked her lips. “I know there are those at church who think it’s vain, but I want to live in a nice house. It’s doesn’t have to be a mansion, but I would love to decorate it with pretty things.”

  Carlotte brushed away the sentiment. “Pah. Knick-knacks. Too much dusting.”

  “I know. But, if that’s what I like, and I’m willing to dust them, what’s wrong with that? Like your four china cups and saucers—I love special occasions when I can drink out of them. Otherwise, they’re stacked on the shelf where we can’t really see them. I suppose it keeps them from being broken, but…” A touch of excitement entered her voice. “Mama, did you know Mrs. Prescott has a full set of china, enough to serve ten people? The night we arrived at the fort, she had her table set for a special meal for the officers. There was a white linen tablecloth, silverware, and glasses. Kizzie and I weren’t invited, so we stayed up in our rooms, but I saw the table before the officers arrived.” Hannah paused and turned to her mother. She canted her head. “Why do you only have four cups and saucers, Mama? What happened to the rest of the set?”

  “My sisters, they divide Mutti’s china. We each get some.” Carlotte lifted a shoulder. “Over time, some break.”

  Hannah turned away as she considered. “I’m sure that made those cups and saucers special for you. If you pass them on to us after you’re gone—even if you divide them just between Magpie and me, that would only be two cups and saucers each. I—I would prefer to marry a man who made enough money so I could have a matching set of china for when guests come instead of serving them on whatever mismatched dishes are around, like we do.”

  “Food tastes the same.”

  “Maybe. But, wouldn’t it be better if we could eat it from matching dishes set on a pretty table in a nice room with painted walls and everything matches, or, at least, goes together.” Hannah paused and shook her head. “I’m not trying to sound ungrateful, Mama. It’s just, I know what to look forward to if I marry someone from around here. The young men in town mostly work in their fathers’ businesses and live above or behind them. Several are farmers like us but homesteaders. Most of them didn’t have a farm somewhere else to sell like Papa and Uncle Sidney did. They don’t have the money to buy wood for a house like ours. Even if their parents have a wood house, with trees being so scarce out here and the price of lumber so dear, most younger men who apply for homesteads can’t afford a wood house. Chances are, I’d live above or behind a store or in a soddie.” She hesitated and choked out her words in a whisper. “I don’t want to live in a soddie, Mama.” Hannah glanced at her mother to gauge her reaction.

  Carlotte turned until their gazes met.

  Hannah fisted her hand and brought it to her lips and then quickly dropped it in her lap once more. “I know some people would think I’m terrible to say that, but I don’t.

  When they came, Carlotte’s words were slow. “Soddies can be good—warm in winter, cool in summer. Do not reject a good man because you live in soddie house.”

  Hannah scrunched her face and tightened her lips. “But everything is dirt, Mama. The floors, the walls, the ceilings—even with braided rugs on the floor, people are surrounded by dirt. Sarah says sometimes snakes come through their walls or insects fall from the ceiling onto their heads or where they’re fixing food.” Hannah shivered. “I don’t want to live like that. At least when I get covered with dirt while working outside here, I can come in and clean up. I’m not always surrounded by dirt.”

  Carlotte shook her head. “Much you have to learn, Hannah. It is people you must care about, not things. You worry about having things, never enough you have to make you happy. You see someone has better, then you want better, too. Better to choose a good man, not things.”

  Hannah huffed. “I do want a good man, but I don’t want to live in a soddie. It’s like how it was with Aunt Virginia.”

  Carlotte rolled her eyes and shook her head. “Pah! Virginia! Never satisfied, that one.”

  Hannah sensed that she had torn the scab off of an old wound. She licked her lips and chose her words carefully. “I don’t remember all that happened. Even though I was younger, I knew most of the grown-ups in our family complained because she didn’t want to come to Salina with the rest of us. She insisted on attending college in Ohio, instead. That’s where she met Uncle Avery.”

  “Money we needed for here your papa spent to take her to Ohio.” She pressed her lips together as she took several deep breaths.

  “It might have cost Papa and Uncle Sidney some money, but they inherited almost everything from their parents, didn’t they? If I remember, Papa told us while they were on the way to Ohio, he and Aunt Virginia stopped at a jewelry shop owned by some Bavarian who specializes in lockets. She sold him her mother’s ring and locket, the only things of value she inherited. Plus, somehow, she earned her own money for tuition. So, it’s not like Papa and Uncle Sidney had to pay for everything.”

  Carlotte grew calm once more. “Ja, those things she did, and, ja, now she’s happy, not like back in Boonville.” She sighed and shrugged. “Perhaps for the best it worked out.”

  Hannah could tell her mother’s admission was given grudgingly. She pressed forward, intent on making her point. “And now she’s living the kind of life she wanted. Am I really so wrong to want to find a man to marry who will allow me a better life—or at least a different life—than living in a soddie? I like pretty things, Mama. I want to wear nice clothes. I don’t need everything silk and satin, but I would like to live where I can wear clothes like that to church and other occasions and people won’t think I’m trying to be better than them. And I want to marry someone who will provide a house made of something other than dirt.”

  She turned to face Hannah. “Only seventeen you are. Just because your cousin a year older marries soon, for you, there is no hurry.”

  “I know. But, if the only people I associate with are the people in Salina, that is who I will have available to choose from when I am ready to marry. I want to become friends with people where I would like to live.”

  “Not good enough your family is?”

  Hannah blinked back tears and shook her head. Then she realized her mother would think she just agreed that her family was not good enough. That was not the case. She swallowed to clear her throat. “Of course, my family is good
enough, Mama. I love my family. But Salina is mostly a farming town.”

  “Ja. We’re farmers.”

  “Does that mean I’m destined to be a farm wife? Mama, I liked life at the fort. Mrs. Prescott and the other wives were so nice to Kizzie and me. I saw the insides of several of their houses. Most of them had paintings on their walls—walls that were either painted or had wallpaper. They owned nice furniture—not always expensive, but nice—with pretty things decorating the rooms. None were as fancy as the Prescott’s house, because he has family money he used to fix up her rooms.” Hannah glanced at her mother to see how she responded. She inhaled and squared her shoulders. “I think I would like living in officers’ quarters at a fort, someplace where I could wear nice clothes most of the time without always worrying that I will get them dirty. Is that really so bad?”

  Carlotte set down her quilt square. She scooted over and gently took the embroidery from Hannah’s hand. After she secured the needle in the fabric, she set that aside. She picked up both Hannah’s hands in hers. “Men who train to become officers, they come from families different than ours—high society families with money. They marry women from same families. Farmers we are, Hannah, never forget that. Our cattle and horses they buy. With our daughters, they dance. With our daughters, they amuse themselves. Some soldiers find amusement when they compromise girls from poor families. Farmers’ daughters, they do not marry.”

  Hannah’s gaze locked on her mother’s face, the pleading for understanding in her mother’s expression apparent. Involuntarily, she squeezed her mother’s hands as a chill coursed down her spine. What she claimed, might happen some of the time. Surely, not all Army officers were like that.

  Jake Burdock seemed so nice. Every time she had been with him, he always behaved like a gentleman. He couldn’t be the type of man her mother described—could he?

  Hannah slowly released her grip. “For right now, there’s nothing serious between me and Lt. Burdock. I promised him I would answer his letters. I hope I’m invited to the fort again for dances and to spend time with the ladies there. But I’ll remember what you said about the intentions of some officers, Mama. I’ll be careful.”

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  Chapter 10

  ~o0o~

  Fort Zarah, Kansas

  October 7, 1865

  O nce Jake returned to Fort Zarah after spending several months at Fort Larned, he discovered two letters from Hannah Atwell waiting. It had taken two days for him to find the time, and, more to the point, the privacy so he could read them undisturbed.

  Fort Zarah, Jake had quickly discovered, was a far cry from Fort Riley as far as military installations went. It had been established as Camp Dunlap about a year before he first arrived. General Samuel R. Curtis, while he was head of the military Department of the Missouri, renamed the post as Fort Zarah in honor of his son, Major H. Zarah Curtis, who was killed during a Civil War battle. Although he said nothing, Jake could not help the thought that the renaming of the post to honor a war hero, unlike Fort Ellsworth, was as it should be.

  As far as a strategic location was concerned, the fort was well-situated where Walnut Creek crossed the Santa Fe Trail. It had originally been created mostly by tents and dugouts on the riverbank close to the Rath Ranch trading post. Now, it was up to Jake to make the recommendations regarding facilities and equipment for the fort so it could live up to its mandate to protect the Santa Fe Trail and settlers in the region from attacks by hostiles. A more permanent facility needed to be built about one hundred yards past the dugouts.

  He had visited Fort Ellsworth twice—once when passing through with the Jones freight train, and a second time after spending the balance of May at Fort Zarah. As he guessed from the beginning, the commander there sent him and his men along to Fort Zarah as escort rather than detail his men to provide the unscheduled task. As long as he rode with Sgt. Marsh and his squad of seasoned fighting men, he had felt confident traveling south between the two forts. However, once they reached Fort Zarah, Sgt. Marsh, per his orders, prepared to return to Fort Riley with his men. Only Pvt. Mulroney, whom Jake chose to stay with him as his assistant, remained. He felt a keen sense of loss.

  One condition Jake quickly became subjected to was the mixed response by fort commanders and those under them once they discovered he represented the Quartermaster Corps. On one hand, although Jake had been trained for battle, and had found himself in the thick of skirmishes more than once, his orders did not put him on the line to face the hostiles. On the other hand, the commanders realized his recommendations would increase or decrease the probabilities of them receiving the supplies, equipage, and animals they desired. Jake found himself subjected to a degree of politicking and persuasion. They wanted buildings, new uniforms, arms, wagons with mules to pull them, and mounts for their cavalry. They all knew obtaining these things took time, but that did not keep them from wanting them as of yesterday.

  To a great extent, Jake shared their frustrations. Unlike military installations in the East, he, Capt. Prescott, and the quartermaster over them were too remote from Washington D.C. to get approval for supplies quickly. All he could do was assess the situation and report to Capt. Prescott. For example, there was sandstone in the area that could be used for building materials. Yet, for the time being, his quarters amounted to a tent he shared with Pvt. Mulroney—and he felt fortunate to have that.

  Fort Ellsworth—another fort he knew was intended to be temporary—was comprised of hastily-constructed dugouts and log structures. However, once the Department decided this post that served as the closest fort to support Fort Zarah should be permanent, it fell to Jake to prioritize their needs and work toward that goal. Flooding seemed to be an issue for that fort, as it was for any post originally set up too close to their source of water.

  Jake unfolded Hannah’s first letter. She did not say much other than to relate a few humorous family incidences. Evidently, the women in the family now concentrated on preparing for the marriage of the dark-haired cousin, Kizzie, whose mare was a favorite with the captain. She again expressed her family’s disappointment that her older brother, Otto, had not been mustered out. They had recently learned his company would be part of a military campaign against the hostiles in the near future.

  Jake smiled as he read one paragraph that seemed to tell a little about the young woman’s values and outlook on life:

  Otto was granted a short leave to visit family. While at home, he reminded my mother of the gold locket he bought from a Bavarian jeweler in St. Joseph several months earlier when stationed at Fort Leavenworth. Although my mother does not have any Bavarian ancestry, she is familiar with the country. It is south of most of the German-speaking states, just above Austria. Mama says, like Austria, Bavarians tend to be Catholic, which puts them at odds with the other Germanic states, especially Prussia. As you can imagine, I made a point to visit Miss Thatcher’s classroom and look up both Bavaria and Austria in her atlas.

  However, the thing that disturbed me the most was my family’s reaction to something I said. The reason the jeweler convinced Otto to buy the locket was because it had already been made for another customer named Otto who had tragically lost his betrothed to death. On the back, this other Otto had the jeweler engrave the words, “All my love, Otto.” The man sold it back to the jeweler at a loss. According to Otto, the jeweler told him every time he thought of smoothing the etching out, something told him to stop. When Otto visited his shop, spoke to the man in German, and told the jeweler his given name, the jeweler said the locket was intended for him, and that he should give it to the woman he loves.

  My brother did not have a sweetheart at the time. He still doesn’t. However, he bought the locket anyway. A few months later, he brought the locket home and gave it to my mother to hold for him. He told Mama, if anything happened to him, the locket was hers, because she also had all his love.

  Well, I know Mama. If something happened to O
tto, she would keep the locket, but she would never wear it. Such a pretty piece of jewelry, and she would bury it in her room where no one could see it or enjoy it. I made the mistake of telling Otto that if he never would have a sweetheart to give the locket to, he should give it to me. I would wear it so everyone could see and enjoy its beauty.

  The next thing I knew, everyone turned against me. They accused me of being selfish, greedy, and all sorts of terrible things. That wasn’t what I intended at all. I just think, if a woman owns a beautiful necklace, she should wear it and enjoy it rather than hide it away where no one can see it.

  It was our hope that Otto would be returned to us. He is of an age that he could begin saving his money so, when he turns twenty-one, he can homestead some land and start looking for a wife. Maybe when that happens, he can give her the locket, and perhaps she will be inclined to wear it. Then maybe my family would leave me alone about it. But it is not to be. The Army still has need of him. I only hope whatever they have him do, it is not dangerous to the point it will cost him his life.

  As he finished the letter, Jake smiled. So, Miss Hannah Atwell liked to wear pretty, sparkly things such as gold lockets rather than have them kept hidden away like buried treasure. They called her chatterbox younger sister Magpie. However, magpies were also known for being attracted by shiny objects and collecting them to take to their nests. Miss Hannah, in her own way, seemed to be as much of a magpie as her sister.

  He considered the fate of Hannah’s brother. Even when he had spoken with her months before, he had known the powers-that-be intended to keep some of the Kansas volunteer regiments in service their entire three-year enlistment to help deal with the Indian issue. He had also felt restrained and decided against saying something about what to expect. It might have prepared her for what happened, but it would have violated policy to share military plans with civilians.

  He remembered the brother’s regiment as the 16th Kansas Volunteer Cavalry, though. Once he heard through the military grapevine that several companies from that regiment had been assigned to the Power River Expedition, he knew a strong possibility existed Pvt. Atwell was among those sent.