Hannah's Handkerchief

by Zina Abbott

  “Well, I found what he has to say interesting.”

  By the way her father’s voice caught when he paused, Hannah suspected he had more to say on the subject.

  “Your mother told me about the talk you two had about soddies, about how you don’t want to marry a farmer if it means living in one.”

  Even though she knew her face was hidden from her father by the darkness, Hannah felt herself blush. “I figured she would. It’s true. People might accuse me of being proud and too particular, but I would much rather live in a house that is not made of dirt.”

  “It sounds like, before the year’s out, your soldier might be living in something like a soddie, only not as well-constructed as the ones built around here. Would you be willing to marry an officer if officers’ quarters were in a dirt cave?”

  Hannah turned her head aside. “I can’t say that prospect appeals to me.”

  “What about a tent? You know, I’ve heard stories about how seniority works when it comes to officer housing. If there’s enough houses for all the officers at a fort, then their wives have a home with four solid walls to live in. If another officer is assigned to the fort, and he’s senior to one or more officers there, he gets the better house, based on his rank. Those with lesser rank move into a less desirable place until the most junior officer moves his wife, family, and belongings into a tent.”

  Hannah felt her voice catch. “Why are you telling me this, Papa? To frighten me?” As she listened to her father’s soft laugh, she shivered, knowing it was not caused by the cold air chilling her back and shoulders.

  “No, only to give you something to consider. Don’t think that what you saw on the surface at Fort Riley last spring is how life in a fort always is. Make sure you know what you’re getting yourself into before you decide you wish to be courted by a soldier.”

  Hannah sighed and looked off into the darkness. She understood the message her father shared. The officer housing like what she saw at Fort Riley, still appealed to her. However, if she followed an officer husband to a more primitive fort on the frontier, the conditions could be far different—far less agreeable. They might even make her parents’ humble wooden farmhouse wood look like a palace. She closed her eyes and shook her head, still determined not to end up spending most of her adult life in a soddie.

  Maybe that attraction she felt for Jake Burdock was nothing more than youthful silliness created by the excitement at the dance. Maybe spending her life with a soldier would not be the best option.

  Hannah knew her father waited for her response. To buy time, she licked her lips and pulled her cloak around her more tightly. “Lt. Burdock has given no indication he wishes to court me, Papa. Right now, we’re corresponding as friends.” She sighed as she stood and turned toward the wagon that would serve as her bed. “Goodnight, Papa.”

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  Chapter 12

  ~o0o~

  Outside Salina, Kansas

  Late October, 1865

  J ake Burdock, his heavy wool cape wrapped tightly around him in an effort to stay dry, cursed the day he chose to make his career with the Army. He had recently concluded one of the most difficult battles he ever fought, and it had nothing to do with firing weapons or facing the natives. The hostiles he had engaged with had been the officers of the forts where he tasked them to collect as many bison hides as possible.

  To a point, he could understand the reluctance of the men to turn over the hides they had gathered as a byproduct of hunting the large beasts for meat. Most soldiers had not experienced their first blizzard on the west Kansas plains yet, but as the cold weather set in, the uniforms of many who arrived in the spring or summer proved inadequate, especially when the soldiers took their turns on guard duty at night. More times than he cared to count, he had listened to the men complain. They preferred to have the untanned pelts to wrap around them when forced to work in the cold, especially at night. They opposed Jake’s plan to send them to Fort Leavenworth, the tanning headquarters for the military. He repeatedly explained they would be processed and turned into military-issue coats, hats, and gloves. Unfortunately, even the least-educated and unintelligent soldier understood that, in spite of Jake’s assurances, if they let the pelts go, there was a strong possibility the men would never see them again in any form.

  The longer he rode toward Fort Riley, even he, with his custom-made, heavy wool cloak attached beneath the collar of his knee-length, matching wool coat he purchased with his own funds—one designed to add warmth and help keep him dry when, like now, it rained—began to feel the cold seep in. At least his officer’s slouch hat kept the top of his head warm and most of the rain out of his face. It was not even November, and the cold weather of January and February, with its heavy drifts of snow, had not yet arrived. All he could hope for this day was for the rain to stop and the weather to clear for the balance of the journey.

  Jake began to second-guess himself regarding the bison hides. He planned for the skins to be processed and returned to the Kansas forts from which they came. However, he knew no one could promise that the higher-ups in Leavenworth, in their infinite wisdom, would not take the gear made from Kansas buffalo hides and divert them to Wyoming or Dakota Territories. Still, Jake traveled with the hides with the intention of following them throughout the process. He would make every effort to see them end up where they belonged—to the soldiers serving in western Kansas.

  Although he knew he had not gathered all the hides at the western forts, he felt grateful for what he had. Jake now formed part of the escort for three military wagons—one each from Forts Larned, Zarah, and Ellsworth—all full of hides, all pulled by teams of six mules each, the mules less than enthusiastic about slogging across ground now turned muddy.

  They had camped over a mile to the west of Salina the night before in order to keep temptation from the eyes of any locals with thieving fingers. They woke to a rain that blew in from the north. The wagons with escort rolled along the Smoky Hill Trail past the town during the early morning hours. He already made the decision not to camp that night west of the growing community surrounding the stagecoach stop at Abilene. Jake notified Capt. Prescott of his estimated arrival date. He planned for he and his men to sleep in warm accommodations under cover that night at Fort Riley, even if he had to push the convoy to travel after dark.

  Once past Salina, with a surge of longing, Jake turned to face south and gaze across the river. Although hidden by the trees, he knew if could peer through the foliage, he would see the lane leading to the three farms, the far one belonging to Hannah Atwell’s family. He desperately wished to see her again, assuming she had returned home from visiting with her brother at the Fort Leavenworth hospital. However, there was no time for him to stop and check on her. He had not lost any hides or men yet, and he intended to keep it that way until they reached their final destination.

  The only way he knew Hannah traveled with her father to Fort Leavenworth was due to the letter he had picked up just prior to leaving Fort Ellsworth. Although they did not write to each other that often, it was often enough he received her letters within weeks. Now that she addressed them to Fort Ellsworth, he received them faster. The negative aspect was, he endured knowing grins or probing questions each time he posted a letter or collected mail from her.

  He had found it interesting this most recent missive, written on better quality paper than usual, had come from Fort Riley, not Salina. She explained that, since she and her father intended to continue their journey the following morning, she responded to his letter while at still at Fort Riley.

  Jake suspected Mrs. Prescott had a hand in providing the stationary and posting the letter. He smiled and a surge of satisfaction coursed through him. In spite of all going on in her family, she took the time to keep him informed of her movements. With a little bit of luck, he might see Miss Atwell and her father at Fort Leavenworth or catch them passing through Fort Riley on their way home.


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  Chapter 13

  ~o0o~

  End of October, 1865

  Fort Riley, Kansas

  A s soon as he dismounted, Jake felt like dropping to the ground. Refusing to appear weak before the soldiers who had shared with him the same trip and the same long hours in the saddle, he forced his legs to hold his body upright and carry him over to the wagons to direct the men.

  A non-commissioned officer he recognized as a stable master approached him and saluted. “My men can take your mules and see to their care, Lieutenant.”

  Jake returned the salute. “Thank you, but first, I need them to move my wagons into a secured area.”

  The man gestured in the direction of the large building from which he came. “You can line them up on the long side of the stable. They’ll be all right there for the night.”

  Jake shook his head. “No, I already sent word to Capt. Prescott that I need a warehouse with doors that can be locked or barricaded. If you can find room and feed for the mounts of my escort until I get that resolved, I’d appreciate it.”

  The stable master eyed the wagons with suspicion. “What’re you transporting? Gold?”

  “No. Something more valuable to the men serving on the plains of western Kansas this time of year. Bison hides. We’re on our way to Fort Leavenworth to have them made into coats and gear to be returned for use by the soldiers when on patrol and guard duty. It will be much appreciated if you can find quarters for my drivers so they can keep an eye on their mules. My escort will billet with the wagons. They’ve been sleeping on and under the hides on the trip here. They can continue to do so.”

  “Well, not my department, but the warehouse over by the extra wagons might have the room you need. Wood stove in there, too, if your men want to boil coffee. Have them bring the mules to the corral when you’re settled. In the meantime, I’ll see to the horses.”

  It took longer than Jake wanted, but he soon had his wagons parked in the warehouse and orders issued to his men. He even managed to find some chamber pots. Jake preferred to take no chances that any of the hides would disappear overnight. Some men would stand guard while the others slept, for his orders were that no one was to go in or out until they prepared to leave in the morning. Hoping he could trust in the integrity of his sergeant and corporal, he grabbed his gear and made his way to single officers’ quarters in search of an available cot.

  The following morning, staring into the mirror as he shaved, Jake ignored the dark smudges and bags under his eyes. After eating a quick breakfast, he stopped by the warehouse to make sure all was in order with the wagons and their loads, and to give orders regarding hitching the mules and preparing to continue his journey. Then he made a point to be standing on the stoop outside the door to the quartermaster’s office when Capt. Prescott arrived for the morning.

  The captain returned Jake’s salute. “Morning, Lieutenant. I’ve been expecting you.” Once inside, Capt. Prescott turned to his aide. “Get us both some coffee, please, and bring it into my office. Lieutenant, join me, please.”

  Jake followed him into the office and sat in the chair the captain pointed to.

  The aide entered with two mugs of coffee.

  After he left and shut the door behind him, Jake waited for the captain to speak first.

  “I see you made it here with the load of hides you wrote about in your last report. Word of this impromptu excursion of yours came as a surprise.”

  “Yes, sir, but the more I learned about winters in this part of the world, the greater sense of urgency I felt about acquiring proper clothing for the men. I plan on us moving the wagons hauling the bison hides out within the hour so we can get to Fort Leavenworth tonight.”

  Capt. Prescott chuckled. “You do know, don’t you, most people call them buffalo, even though you find true buffalo in Asia.”

  Jake sighed and rubbed his forehead with his fingertips. “Yes, sir. Even though many call them buffalo instead of bison, that is the correct name for the beasts, and that is what I call them.” He dropped his and in his lap and straightened in his chair. “Do you have my orders so I can pick up the finished coats to return with me, sir?”

  Capt. Prescott shook his head. “You know it doesn’t work that way, Lieutenant. Before I even received your last letter, I put in the requisition for more buffalo coats, hats, and gloves than the number of hides you indicated you would be bringing. That doesn’t mean they will issue us all or any of them any time soon. These pelts you brought in will go in the warehouse to be processed. Who knows where they’ll be sent?”

  Jake began to seethe but knew he must keep his anger under control. “Sir, I’m not sure if you realize how much effort it took to convince the officers as well as the men at the western forts to turn over those hides. They are on a wasteland of grass in the summer and snow in the winter, and the wind blows almost constantly. Even untanned, those hides represented warm beds for the men.”

  “Lieutenant, I understand your position. But do not lose sight of the fact that those hides were obtained, for the most part, by hunting parties authorized by fort commanders. The meat may have fed the men, but the hides belong to the Army.”

  “They don’t see it that way, sir.”

  “That’s the way it is. We process the hides and distribute them where needed.”

  Jake could not keep the bitterness from his voice. “Unless they get diverted and sold on the black market to line the pockets of someone who has friends in government or other places. I’m well aware of the prevalence of fraud and graft when dealing with supplies.” Jake hesitated and then leaned forward. He hoped his expression reflected the sense of urgency he felt. “Sir, I know there are other forts on the plains besides those in our divisions. Several, like Forts Kearney and Laramie, have been established for many years. They have had time to construct decent buildings and accumulate supplies and equipment. With the exception of maybe Fort Larned, that is not the case with the forts you have tasked me to supply. A shortage of winter uniforms and equipment in a fort constructed of materials to withstand the winter weather of this region is one thing. In forts where some men are still living in tents or poorly thrown-together buildings using local materials is a different matter. Even taking the abysmal quality of many of their structures out of the equation, there is still the issue of them wearing adequate warm clothing when they are on patrols, guard duty, and firewood cutting excursions. The men serving out there need warmer clothing, and I understand bison hide coats are among the best.”

  Capt. Prescott tucked under his chin as he inhaled and released his breath slowly. “You know it, Lieutenant, and I know it. I wish I could assure you we can get those hides tanned and turned into coats to be immediately freighted to the western forts. Truth of the matter is, I can’t. It’s something we must deal with the best we can. Now, you brought those hides this far. The Army will take them from here.”

  Jake closed his eyes for a second and leaned back. he forced himself not to slump with defeat in his chair. He responded with less assertion. “Sir, if it is agreeable, I would at least like to escort them as far as the tannery at Leavenworth—to see to it none fall off the wagon between here and there, if you know what I mean.”

  “I assume you want to take an inventory when you arrive to make sure what is delivered matches what you started with.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “All right, Lieutenant. I have other plans for you and your men in a few days, but, in the meantime, you have permission to manage the transport to Fort Leavenworth. What kind of men do you have with you? If you grant them two days of leave, will you still have them when it’s time to return here?”

  Surprised by the question, Jake blinked. He knew the forts out west dealt with desertions on a regular basis. Some of those who walked away were later found with the help of buzzards flying over what was left of a body stripped and scalped. As for the men 2nd Lt. Ellsworth had assigned to
him for escort duty, he did not know. “Sir, I’m not sure. They’re mostly Iowa cavalry. As close as we are to Iowa, it might be a temptation for some.”

  “Get them billeted, give them forty-eight hours leave, but their mounts stay in the fort’s stables. The animals can use the rest, even if the men don’t think they need it. I want you back here in four days. By then, I should have blankets, winter uniforms, boots, and miscellany we’ll load out, one wagon per fort for the three you brought, plus a fourth load in a wagon that will stay at Fort Dodge.” He paused. “Make sure that load slated for Dodge gets there after the 2nd U.S. Cavalry musters out. I’m seeing to it the men that replace them have their basic winter uniforms and gear. I want the additional supplies to stay at the fort, not walk off with any departing galvanized Yankees.”

  Jake agreed that the men staying at the forts needed what he had to bring, not those headed for home. “So, we’ll be sending them uniforms and supplies for winter, but no bison coats.”

  Capt. Prescott agreed softly with a shake of his head. “No bison coats. If I get my requisition for the coats filled before winter is over, I’ll do my best to send them out to the forts. If they come in the spring or the summer, I’ll hold them here until next fall before I forward them and hope they don’t disappear in the meantime. Anything else, Lieutenant?

  Jake stood and saluted. “No, sir, that will be all. Thank you.”

  The door jerked open.

  “Captain, your presence is expected for a meeting in the Major’s office at eleven hundred hours.”

  Jake felt his back stiffen upon hearing someone behind him bark out an order. He held his position as Capt. Prescott, a grimace of displeasure on his face, stared at the man who entered.

  “Did you hear my message, sir?”