by Zina Abbott
Then Hannah grew aware of a sound she suspected he heard first—that of heavy footsteps walking on the porch in the direction of the side of the house where they stood in the darkness. She opened her eyes to see Jake’s head backlit by a faint glow of light that had not been there earlier.
Jake leaned forward until his lips hovered within an inch of her ear. “I must go. Your father has come to drag you away to safety once more.”
As Hannah eased away from Jake, he gently tugged his hat from her fingers and settled it on his head.
Jefferson’s voice sounded from the front of the house. “Lieutenant, I believe you need to be on your way if you want that early start in the morning.”
Jake leaned back and turned his face toward the front of the house. “Yes, sir. I’m coming.”
Jake turned and offered Hannah a last quick peck on the lips as he reached for the edges of her cloak and settled it around her. He then straightened his coat so the lapel hung straight before he offered Hannah his arm.
Hannah followed Jake as they rounded the corner. She could tell when her father caught sight of her. She prayed that the darkness would hide any flush remaining on her face or minimize any signs her hair had been mussed. As Hannah walked with Jake on the ground in front of the porch until they arrived at the steps to the wooden platform, on the porch, her father walked by their side.
When they reached the front, Jake followed Hannah up the steps. He released Hannah’s hand.
At the same time, Jefferson handed Jake the handle to the lantern and then held out his right hand. “I’ve enjoyed your visit, Lt. Burdock, as has my family.” His gaze focused on Hannah. “Some of my family enjoyed your visit more than others.”
Upon hearing her father’s words, Hannah felt her face heat with a blush.
Jake turned to Hannah. “As much as I regret to see this day end, I must bid you a good night and be on my way.” His gaze filled with longing, he raised the lantern several inches. “Remember what I said about your letters, Hannah.” Jake turned and bounded down the stairs and, without turning back, walked with a brisk step down the lane toward the Palmers’ farm.
Rather than follow her father into the house, Hannah stepped over and stood at the edge of the porch as she watched Jake, lantern in hand, walk away. She fingered her locket once more. She recalled his words written on the note in which he wrapped it.
Your letters are like a beacon of light in the darkness.
Hannah mouthed her promise, knowing no one heard the words. “I’ll write soon, Jake.”
~o0o0o0o~
Dear reader – With this book, I found it necessary to do something I sincerely do not like doing, but it became unavoidable if I wanted to tell the story of Hannah I intended for the past two years to write. I can only hope you will forgive me.
Between my plot covering several years, and all that took place in its setting, which includes Kansas trails and frontier forts of the 1860s after the American Civil War ended, I struggled to put my story together without leaving too many gaps resulting in a choppy, disjointed plot. I found it all but impossible. I already reached my word limit for this series and realized I was running out of time. I made the last-minute decision to tell Hannah’s story in two books. Therefore, Hannah’s Handkerchief does not end “happily ever after” but “happily for now.”
The rest of Hannah’s story will be published as Hannah’s Highest Regard in six months after this book’s release day. It will not be a Locket & Lace series book. Since these books are also part of my own Atwell Kin series, it will be an Atwell Kin series book. You may preorder it by CLICKING HERE, or wait until it is available on Kindle Unlimited.
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Thank you for reading
Hannah’s Handkerchief!
Each book in the
Lockets & Lace
series is a Clean, Sweet Historical Romance. You may find all the books in this series as they are published by searching for
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Virginia’s Vocation, Book 19 in the Lockets & Lace series. Set in 1858-59, takes place just before the outbreak of the American Civil War. Virginia’s Vocation is Virginia Atwell’s story. She is the aunt referred to in Hannah’s story. Here is an excerpt:
Bonner Springs, Kansas Territory
May, 1858
H er arms folded, Virginia Atwell reluctantly agreed with her brother that the outfitter’s store possessed a civilized appearance. Her gaze scanned the shelves on which were neatly stacked a variety of goods. Although some appeared to appeal more to adventurers and the various native tribes she had heard still lived close by rather than farmers, she spotted a nice selection of supplies her family might like to buy if they planned to travel west.
Virginia spun on the balls of her boots to look out the wavy, but otherwise clear glass panels of the front windows. Without thinking, her steps took her to the shelves in front, on top of which the owner had laid out a display that could be seen through the window panes as long as the shutters stayed open. With one hand, she reached up and fingered the oval gold locket with the floral design she had inherited from her late mother as her gaze gravitated towards an embroidered leather pouch with an eye-catching geometric design in bright colors.
“You’re interested in the lady’s possibles bag, are you? It’s made by one of the local Kaw craftswomen.”
Virginia turned to face the middle-aged store owner with the startling gray eyes. Wearing his dark hair tied back in a queue and attired in buckskin breeches with a white linen shirt covered by a leather vest, to Virginia, he dressed like a throwback to an earlier era. “Local Kaw? Aren’t they an Indian tribe? I thought they were sent to live on a reservation some distance away.” She watched the man as his eye twitched and wondered what she had said that prompted his reaction.
“That they have. When I was a lad, this whole country around here was theirs. Several years ago, they sold much of their land and went to the reservation by Council Grove, west of Topeka. I still keep in contact with them and sell many of the goods their women make.”
“Oh. I wondered. My brothers were here a couple of years ago when they first started looking for new farm land in Kansas Territory. They said they talked to someone who was from one of the tribes that used to be here. The Indian man warned them it was dangerous if we went too far west, because different tribes who roamed there have not agreed to live on reservations. Kansas Territory seems so unsettled. I guess…” Virginia’s stomach threatened to tighten in knots, just as it often did at the thought of moving to the untamed frontier the men in her family had selected for their new home. She swallowed. “I guess my brothers have looked into Salina and decided enough people have moved there it would be a fairly safe place for their farms. They particularly like the soil and the availability of water. They have chosen three lots along the Smokey Hill River to the east of Salina.”
Virginia felt like shrinking within herself as the store owner studied her.
“I take it you do not favor the move.”
Virginia turned her gaze towards her feet and shook her head. “Unfortunately, women do not have much of a say in matters like this, even though we must face the same danger the men are so eager to risk.”
Why did she bare her soul to this stranger, she wondered? If her brothers knew, they both would chastise her thoroughly. They would once again subject her to the counsel she had heard multiple times. She should leave decisions of that nature up to the men. They were the ones responsible for seeing to the safety and welfare of the entire famil
y. So on and so forth.
Virginia refused to express just how unhappy she felt over being relegated to the task of accompanying the men. Not only did she not wish to leave Boonville, Missouri which was relatively civilized compared to the Kansas Territory frontier, but being forced to stay away from home for at least a couple of months interfered with her own vocation—one none of her family knew about because she had never told them. She knew they would not approve on the grounds it simply was not something women did.
Once again, as she thought about the situation, Virginia expressed the annoyance she felt by tightening her lips. It frustrated her to no end that people regarded the manner in which she chose to share her talents with others to be an unladylike occupation. Her family and those with whom they associated in Boonville expected her to conform to the normal expectations for women. No doubt this man carried the same beliefs regarding the place of women, so she knew it would be fruitless to tell him of her dismay and disappointments. She looked up to study the man’s expression as he responded. She suspected he chose his words with care.
“It is true Salina is on the western edge of the territory America has opened up for settling. It used to be part of the traditional bison hunting grounds of the Kaw. Unfortunately, the Cheyenne also claim that same land, which is far to the west from where the Smokey Hills, Saline, and Solomon Rivers join and continue to where we are now. The open prairie available to the buffalo is smaller than it used to be. The Cheyenne have been giving the Kaw people trouble in recent years when they meet up to hunt among the same herds. The Kiowa and Arapaho have been known to go through that land, too. However, as long as Salina continues to grow, and if the local farmers band together and put up a united front to any danger, you and your family should be all right moving there.”
Virginia turned to look at the far wall of the building. “My brothers say the same. I wish I could feel more convinced.” Virginia’s gaze next followed his finger as he pointed at the bag.
“I hear many of the tribes, like the Iroquois up north, make beaded bags that are very popular with the society ladies back east. Most of my customers are headed west and prefer more practical things. However, it does not hurt to mix beauty with what is practical. I know the woman who made this. She does good work. This is not only attractive but will serve you well for years.”
Virginia once again fingered the locket below her neck as she studied the bag more closely. Its simple lines and well-crafted design did appeal to her. “I’m not sure what I would use it for. The things I need to keep handy stay in a pocket.”
Virginia watched the man shrug as he ran his fingers over the stitching holding the shoulder-length strap to the twelve-inches-square pouch with its rounded edges on the bottom and the decorated flap that covered nearly the entire front.
“It may be that you have no need for such an item. The mountain men who, a generation ago, used to come through here on their way west considered them a necessity. They used them to hold anything they might need for the day, whether it be powder and shot, a knife too small to wear on a belt, fire-starter supplies, maybe a tea brick, dried jerky or hardtack, and a tin cup. If they got caught out in the open away from their camp where they kept most of their supplies, they usually had enough in their possibles bag to allow them to survive overnight. But, then, if I understand correctly, Mr. Palmer and the Mr. Atwells intend to have your homes built before bringing the rest of the families over next spring.”
Virginia looked away, and she knew her apprehensive feelings filtered through to her voice. “Yes. They are working on the houses now. It will take a few years for all three homes to be completed, but they plan to have at least a kitchen and main room for each home built before snow arrives this fall. We are on our way to take a load of lumber from Kansas City to the property.”
“You’ll be going with them, will you?”
“Yes. Both my sisters-in-law are busy with their children and Mrs. Palmer, my one brother’s mother-in-law, has not been feeling well. It was decided I would come to cook for the men and help with other tasks.”
Sidney, the younger of Virginia’s two brothers, rushed over to her. With a tendency to be easily excitable, his face bore that dismayed expression Virginia recognized only too well.
“I just finished talking to the old man who works here. He said the army bridge that crosses the Republican River just west of Fort Riley washed out this past March. We’re going to have a time of it getting these wagons across, even with the water level lower than a few months ago.”
Virginia watched her other brother, Jefferson, his head shaking, walk up and join the group. With his tendency to be level-headed and not as easily panicked like Sidney, Virginia understood her mother’s decision to have him be named her guardian. It had nothing to do with him being the oldest son.
“You didn’t stay long enough to hear the whole conversation, Sidney. Some enterprising family built a ferry next to where the bridge used to be. We’ll have to pay, but we can get over. If we lose a few supplies, Mr. Jackson said, as of May, there is now a general store in Salina. The important thing we don’t lose is any of the lumber—or any of us, of course.”
Wide-eyed, Virginia stared at each of her brothers in turn as her stomach churned with a renewed apprehension. Crossing a broad, choppy river on a rickety ferry loaded with animals that might misstep and a wagon that might slide did not appeal to her in the least. Yet, as usual, she had no say in the matter. She must endure and hope she did not fall overboard and drown.
Virginia reached for the possibles bag the storekeeper had shown her and turned to hand it to Jefferson. “Brother, I wish you to add this to your order. It will be for me. I have my big scissors, but I also want a small knife to carry inside the bag.” She ignored the confused and resistant expression on her oldest brother’s face as her determined gaze stayed focused on him.
“Whatever for, Virginia? This is not a time to purchase fripperies.”
Her anger rising, Virginia responded with a snap to her voice. “This may be beautifully decorated, Jefferson, but it is practical. I will be in camp, often by myself. It will be helpful to be able to keep a few small items handy. I’ll put my mending kit in there, along with matches and…and a few other things that tend to get lost or dumped in the dirt when the three of you men start tossing things around looking for a tool, or whatever it is you need.”
At the sound of his sigh, Virginia turned towards Sidney in time to catch the end of his eye roll.
“Just get it for her, Jefferson. If not, the whole time we are building the houses, she will continually remind us how much easier it would be to find things if she could keep them all by her side in that pouch.”
Virginia smiled and nodded her head in gratitude as Jefferson accepted the leather bag and turned to add it to the supplies he had stacked on the counter. “Thank you, Brother. I’ll let you help me pick out the knife. I will also need a supply of jerky and hardtack wrapped in a small oiled cloth to put in there…ah…just in case someone gets hungry while we are traveling.”
“Will the lady be doing any work where she will need some heavy leather gloves? I have a nice selection for smaller hands. They are very popular among the women who are heading to Oregon or California.”
Virginia turned to the shopkeeper still standing close by. She tamped down her smile at the thought that, although she considered him very pleasant for a frontiersman, and quite helpful, he remained ever the salesman. She turned back to face Jefferson. “That would be a good idea, especially for driving the team or hauling fuel. My wool knit gloves are warm, but not up to rugged treatment. Besides, I already warned you I will never touch animal excrement with my bare hands or my clothing, no matter how dry the said excrement. I’m still not sure about using the buffalo chips, as everyone calls them, for cooking.” She smiled at the sight of Jefferson exchanging a knowing look with the shopkeeper. He then turned to face her while shaking his head in resignation.
“All right. Go try o
n a few pairs to see which fit best. Just be aware, we will expect you to put those gloves to good use.”
Of course. Virginia could not help the disgruntled direction of her thoughts. Anything to further the achievement of your goals for the future. Mine count for nothing to anyone but me. If you even knew mine, you would laugh them into the ground.
You may find Virginia’s Vocation by clicking here.
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Lockets & Lace Books
by
Sweet Americana Sweethearts
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