Hannah's Handkerchief Page 12

  Otto’s eyes opened once more. Hannah watched as they struggled to focus on her.

  “Hannah?”

  “It’s me, Otto. Papa went to find a doctor.”

  “Doctors can’t do much more for me right now than they’ve already done.” Otto’s words came out in a choppy cadence as he spoke through the pain. “I need to be turned on my stomach so I can get this pressure off my back.”

  “The wound…We were told you were shot in the lower back, right?”

  “Yeah. Mutti here?”

  Hannah shook her head. “No. She stayed home with the others.”

  “Good. I don’t want her to see me like this.”

  Hannah fought the urge to argue, to tell him their mother loved him and wanted him home so she could take care of him. Something restrained her. Something warned her Otto did not want to hear those words.

  When her father returned, it was not with a doctor but with Nurse Orwin. She asked Hannah to leave the room and stay in the hallway outside the door long enough so her father could help Otto relieve himself. As two male nurses entered the ward, Hannah guessed they came to assist all the men with personal needs.

  Hannah pulled her embroidery from her reticle and began to hem a handkerchief she planned to give to Otto. After two needle pricks, she put her sewing away and waited for her father to come for her.

  Several minutes later, Nurse Orwin called for her. She showed Hannah and Jefferson how to position Otto so he could eat his noon meal. Later, with her father and another male nurse there to help, Nurse Orwin helped turn Otto onto his stomach.

  Nurse Orwin explained that the bullet had missed the spine but lodged next to a large nerve that came from the spine down the leg. The field doctor had not dared remove it for fear of severing the nerve which would have left Otto unable to walk again. Without proper care as he was transported from Fort Connell in Montana down through Wyoming until he was returned to Fort Leavenworth, the doctor wanted him to regain his strength and heal enough before they considered surgery again. Nurse Orwin placed a folded blanket beneath his pelvis and explained it was to relieve the pressure of the bullet embedded next to the nerve.

  Hannah could tell the change in position did not relieve all of the pain. She watched her brother grip handfuls of pallet ticking each time a grimace crossed his face. She knew her father and Otto spoke, but, by that point, she felt too upset to focus on what was said.

  Soon, Otto begged for more laudanum. After Nurse Orwin determined enough time had passed, she gave him the opiate that sent him into blessed temporary oblivion.

  Not long after quiet settled around Otto’s bed, Nurse Orwin appeared at the foot once more, this time holding what Hannah recognized as a lap desk. “Miss Atwell, your brother will be resting for at least a couple of hours. Several of the other men are also napping, but if you could see if anyone still awake needs a letter written, I know they would appreciate it.” Before Hannah could agree or disagree, the woman shoved the specially-designed wooden box into her hands and, executing a left turn with military precision, exited the room.

  The first soldier who raised his hand and called out to her lay in the bed across the aisle and two beds away from Otto closer to the entry door.

  Jefferson, shaking his head, picked up one of two wooden chairs he had commandeered from somewhere in the building and carried it over next to the bed of the man with a right hand swathed in bandages and signs of healing burn scars on his arm and side of his face.

  Hannah sat, opened the wooden box with its leather hinge, and pulled out a sheet of paper and a pencil. The desk settled on her lap, she turned to the soldier. He introduced himself and then dictated his letter. Once finished, she folded it so the ends slid together to keep the contents private, and she wrote the direction he gave her on the outside.

  Three more letters later, most men who had been napping were awake. Several asked if she could read another chapter of the book. After receiving a nod of permission from her father, she started for the same spot in the room as before. A call went out for her to stand at the other end so the men there could have their turn at hearing her more clearly.

  Otto awoke toward the end of the chapter. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed that he and her father softly spoke while she continued to read. Once she finished and returned the book, her father stood and told her it was time to go. She said her goodbyes to Otto, who, still in pain, mumbled a few words before turning his head away.

  Hannah donned her cloak. While she tied her bonnet strings under her chin, she heard Elam Stewart speak.

  “Miss Atwell, if you figure on being here again tomorrow, you reckon you could help me write a letter?”

  Hannah twisted her upper body to face him. Wearing a sheepish expression, he held up both arms. “Got me two good hands, but never learned no reading or writing. Got me a cousin, though, she knows how. Figure I send her a letter, she can read it to the rest of my kin.”

  Hannah looked at her father. Did he plan to return the next day? After his nod, while wearing a smile, she turned back to him. “Certainly, Pvt. Stewart. I’ll be happy to write a letter for you tomorrow.”

  On their walk back to the boardinghouse, Jefferson shared with Hannah what he had learned. The doctor he needed to talk to was on his way back from a medical conference in Chicago. He was expected to arrive in two days. Since Otto was still enlisted, he would not be allowed to leave without this doctor’s permission. That possibility would be highly unlikely unless Otto’s company was mustered out or he was medically discharged.

  “It sounds like we might not be able to bring Otto home yet, Papa. He really is in a bad way.”

  “It’s starting to look that way, Daughter. I’m not giving up hope yet, though.” He turned to Hannah. “If you continue with your notion of wanting a soldier for a husband, this should give you an idea of what difficulties you could end up facing.”

  Hannah inhaled and pressed her lips together as she considered her father’s warning. “True. I also discovered ways I can help ease those kinds of difficulties. I know with you being used to working all the time, sitting and waiting on Otto to wake up was hard on you. However, I felt like I accomplished some good for the other men in there.”

  “You did. I didn’t much like it at first, especially with you flaunting yourself like you were on stage. However, I saw how you writing letters and reading aloud helped make the time pass easier for those men.”

  Hannah leaned forward and turned her upper body and until her father looked her in the eye. “Besides, Papa, even though we aren’t soldiers, we did face being injured or killed that year the Indians attacked the settlers around Salina.” She swallowed and, once again, focused her gaze forward as they walked. “I just hope it works out we can bring Otto home.”

  “So do I, Hannah. So do I.”

  .

  .

  .

  .

  Chapter 15

  ~o0o~

  November, 1865

  St. Joseph, Missouri

  A s he approached St. Joseph, Jake felt a sense of peace. On the outskirts, he paused and dismounted to allow his mount to paw at the snow in order to crop grass as much as for him to stretch his legs and work the kinks out of his body. He felt the chill of the wind off the river, but it did not compare to the cold rain he endured on his journey between Fort Ellsworth and Fort Riley.

  Leading his horse, Jake walked several yards toward the city before he chose to remount. It had been some time since he had seen a map of the region, however, he felt confident he could ask around and find his way to his destination. Once he made the decision to come, he knew it would be a quick trip, with most of his time already eaten up by the thirty-six miles or so to get there. He hoped to find that jewelry shop run by the Bavarian before night descended. Hopefully, the man kept his business open late.

  Jake had heard of star-crossed lovers, but he felt as though, in his case, he was double-crossed. First, being forced to turn over the bison hides
he collected with the knowledge he would not be returning with them converted into coats rankled. He might be bringing back heavy wool winter uniforms and gear, but he suspected they would be regarded as a poor substitute for what he originally intended.

  Second, he had missed meeting up with Hannah Atwell. After arriving and delivering the hides to the tannery—all accounted for—he secured the wagons and mules, and he billeted his men. Following their supper, he gave them their forty-eight hours leave. That morning, with no other duty calling him, he found his way to the hospital and inquired after Pvt. Atwell. He was still there.

  He discovered the man in an unconscious state, due, he was told by the private next to him, to a dose of laudanum. The same soldier informed him that Hannah Atwell and her father spent several days visiting but had been forced to leave without Pvt. Atwell. The last day at the hospital had been two days prior. The private assumed they were headed for home.

  Only, Jake knew they had not traveled directly home, at least, not by way of Fort Riley. If they had, he and his wagons of hides would have passed them on the main road between the two forts.

  After leaving the hospital, Jake returned to the fort stables long enough to arrange for a horse that he was assured needed exercise. At first, he had no destination in mind, no place he wished to be. However, he also did not intend to wander the streets of Leavenworth or sit around officers’ quarters for two days. A ride to the river’s edge and the sight of a ferry crossing into Missouri put the idea into his head.

  In her letters, Hannah shared the story of how her brother—the one now occupying a hospital bed he might never rise from—had been talked into buying a locket with the etched inscription, “All my love, Otto.” Later, Hannah shared that years earlier, her aunt sold the locket she had inherited from her mother to this same Bavarian Jeweler. He had not turned around and resold it. Instead, her aunt and her fiancé visited this shop some time later and repurchased the locket. Obviously, this particular shop—with its jeweler who had been trained as a watchmaker, but who had also learned the craft of creating lockets—held a special meaning for Hannah.

  Jake reached his right hand to his left side and fingered the spot covering the embroidered handkerchief he still kept close. The giving of her handkerchief, and Hannah’s sentiment behind her gift, had come to mean a great deal. She told him she thought of it as a token of their friendship—like a lady of yore giving her scarf or a ribbon as a favor to a knight to carry for good luck.

  He wished for her to have a token from him. What better place for him to find a gift to give her—a token of his friendship and regard—than at a jewelry shop that already held a place in her heart?

  Is it merely friendship I feel for her? He did hold her in high regard. However, they had met only at the dance at Fort Riley, and again a few days later at her family’s farm. Beyond that, there had only been the letters. Only the letters? In her letters, Hannah seemed to open up and share thoughts, admissions, and feelings he doubted she would ever have expressed in a different setting. When he considered some of the situations and frustrations he shared with her, all with the hope that she did not turn his words into fodder for idle gossip, he had done the same.

  No, Jake realized, his feelings for Hannah Atwell had deepened to something beyond the intense attraction he had felt for her upon their first meeting at the dance—an attraction sealed by their kiss. It went beyond finding her perspectives of her life and the political situation in Kansas insightful and interesting. But love? Could she possibly feel some stirrings of love for him? He dared not hope for that—not yet.

  A token of friendship? Yes. And, while he found himself so close to St. Joseph after bringing the bison hides to the tannery there, he decided to search for the perfect token to express his feelings in the jewelry shop belonging to this same Bavarian jeweler.

  He entered the city. He grimaced as he glanced at the sun sinking into the western horizon. He would try to locate the Bavarian’s shop tonight. However, he doubted the man would still be open. If not, he would look for a room close by to rent, a place to eat, and he would call it a night.

  ~o0o~

  The following morning, his horse tied to the nearest pole, Jake waited for The Bavarian Jewelry and Watch Repair shop to open its door. As the owner unlocked his business from the inside, Jake entered. He first noticed the display cases with jewelry and watches. On the back wall, he noted items for sale made of lace—an interesting and unusual offering for a jewelry shop, he thought. Next, he studied the man with his dark brown hair shot with gray at the temples.

  The man walked around a case until he stood behind it. He held out his hand. “Wilhelm Mueller. May I help you this morning?” He gestured toward the display cases. “Nice jewelry I have for sale, also quality watches.” He waved in the direction of a worktable behind him. “Watches I also repair.”

  The workbench appeared to Jake to be littered with a multitude of small parts. A funny, water-filled globe seemed to hold a place of importance on the table, and he wondered how it was used.

  Clearing his throat, Jake forced his mind to focus on the purpose of his visit. After all, he knew time was short if he was going to purchase something here and make the journey back to Fort Leavenworth in time to make the curfew he had set for his men. Fortunately, thanks to the helpful innkeeper who offered a breakfast menu, he had already arranged for sufficient travel food to last him the day. “I’m interested in a gift for a young lady.”

  “A sweetheart, ja?”

  The way the man said “yes” reminded him of how Hannah’s mother said the word. “No, not a sweetheart.” Not yet. Maybe someday. “She and I are friends—correspondents, actually—although I hold her in high regard.”

  An expression of uncertainty crossed the jeweler’s face. “Correspondent…”

  “We exchange letters. I would like something pretty but not too personal. A ring would not be appropriate, I don’t believe.”

  “How old? Maybe small child, a ring.”

  “No, she’s older than that. Younger than me, but she’s no longer in school.”

  “Nein, no ring, unless to ihr Vater you already speak.”

  Jake did not understand the German words. He recalled how the soldiers who grew up in the German-speaking countries before coming to America did not say the “th” sound. However, he suspected what they meant by the way the Bavarian spoke them. He felt himself grow uncomfortable in his skin while the man stared as if searching Jake’s soul. He cleared his throat. “For the time being, I know her as a friend. Because I presently am assigned to more remote forts, she agreed to write to me. I have not spoken to her father, other than I know he is aware his daughter and I exchange letters.”

  The man nodded. “Ah. No hearts, no flowers.”

  Jake shook his head. “No, we are not that close.” Not yet. “Just something pretty, but not too expensive or not too personal.”

  Jake ground his back teeth together. This was a bad idea. How can jewelry be not too personal? He cleared his throat. “I might not be able to find something appropriate here. I came because your shop holds special meaning for the family. Both her aunt and her brother have done business with you. I understand you sold a locket to her brother, Otto Atwell, a year or so ago.”

  “Otto. Ja, I remember. A soldier, ja?”

  “Yes. He was injured in combat a couple of months ago during a campaign up in Montana. I just finished seeing him in the hospital at Fort Leavenworth.”

  The jeweler held up his finger. “For Otto’s sister, this I have.”

  Jake waited until the man walked over to the next display case and slid open the door in the back. He followed him over in time to see him lift out a small pendant necklace on a delicate gold chain. Jake held out his hand to accept the necklace. He next turned and stepped toward the front window to study it in better light. The design on the square-shaped pendant depicted a sheet of paper with its ends rolled and an old-fashioned quill pen with a full plume. Two small five
-petal flowers flanked each side of the paper.

  “A pretty locket, ja?”

  Jake turned to the jeweler, who had come around the counter once more to stand next to him. “This is a locket?” He tipped it on its side until he saw the hinges that held the two parts together.

  “Ja. For older student I make. For young woman who writes letters, also good. Tell her, for Otto’s sister, I think of this.”

  Jake closed his fingers around the necklace. “I’ll take it. How much?”

  The jeweler returned to his place behind the counter, and the two completed the transaction. As the man slipped the locket into a small, muslin drawstring pouch, Jake unfastened two buttons on the front of his uniform blouse. He reached inside and, using two fingers, withdrew the handkerchief Hannah had given him. He unfolded it and laid it flat on top of the counter before placing the pouch containing her locket in the middle.

  The jeweler ran the pad of his forefinger along the edge of the crocheted border. “Like lace my wife makes.” He pointed to the lace items hanging on the wall.

  Jake followed the direction of the man’s finger and studied more closely the items displayed. The crocheted lace was similar to what Hannah had used to edge her handkerchief, except most of them were made using a finer thread.

  Jake returned his gaze to the jeweler and smiled. “This was her token of friendship to me. Now, perhaps, you understand why I felt moved to buy something of value for her.” As he watched the man stare at him with a knowing smile, Jake squirmed.

  “Ja. When you ready for ring, go talk to Vater, then back here come. For Otto’s sister, a good deal I make you.”

  Jake shook his head. He folded the handkerchief with its precious new cargo inside and stuffed it back into his hidden pocket. He knows. He shook hands with the Bavarian and assured him that if, in the future, he was in the area and in need of jewelry, he would return.

  Again outside, Jake mounted his horse and turned it south in the direction of the bend in the Missouri River opposite Fort Leavenworth. He had not accomplished what he intended with the bison hides. However, he felt better now he knew the trip had still been of great worth.