A Basket Brigade Christmas (26 page)

The soldier shook his head and slowly uncurled his fingers. A silver, heart-shaped locket lay in his palm. “This here locket has the name ‘Sarah’ etched on the outside. I was thinking it must belong to her.” He tapped his finger to the clasp. “Looks like this here fastener broke and it ended up on my cot.”

Jacob reached forward and lifted the locket from the young man’s palm. He rubbed his thumb over the etched impression that formed Sarah’s name in a delicate script. Jacob tucked it into his pocket. “I’ll make certain it’s returned to Miss McHenry.” He hesitated a moment. “In the unlikely event it doesn’t belong to her, please know that I’ll search for the rightful owner.”

The soldier thanked him, and Jacob returned to his seat, his hand tucked deep in his pocket. As he lowered himself onto his seat, he withdrew the locket and turned it over in his hand. He’d never seen the locket around Sarah’s neck, but perhaps she placed it beneath her clothing. He’d heard tell that many ladies wore lockets given to them by their loved ones beneath their dresses so that it would be closer to their heart. The thought sent fear racing through him. His pulse quickened as he tightened his fingers around the silver heart. He longed to push down on the tiny clasp along the outer edge of the heart, the metal closure that would open the heart and reveal the inner contents of the locket. However, opening the piece of jewelry in the darkness of the train made little sense. He’d wait until they arrived at their next stop and he’d go inside the Wenona Depot, where he’d be able to gain a good look.

His fingers remained wrapped around the locket until he stepped off the train in Wenona. He bowed his head low against the blowing snow that assaulted him as he hurried toward the doors of the depot. Suddenly, his foot slipped on the snow-dampened wooden platform and sent him sailing. With the locket still tight in his fist, he yanked his hand from his pocket to break his fall. He hit hard on his hip and wrenched his ankle, but he soon managed to push to his feet and hobbled inside.

A lone man stood behind the ticket counter inside the depot. “You all right? Looked like you took quite a fall out there. I told the supervisor they need to post some signs about the platform being slick, but he didn’t listen.”

“A few lanterns would help, too. I don’t think I could have read any signs even if they’d been posted.” Jacob transferred the locket to his left hand and briefly massaged his hip. No doubt there would be a huge bruise by the time the train arrived in Chicago—and he’d be required to endure the soreness that would surely follow such a spill. When pain shot through his ankle, he leaned forward to loosen the laces of his boot to allow for any swelling.

The old man behind the counter pointed at Jacob’s boot. “Be sure you tie that up before you go back out to the train. Don’t want to step on one of those laces and end up on your backside again. You want some coffee? I got some boiling over there on the stove. You can help yourself.” When Jacob shook his head, the man stepped from behind the counter. “Well, I guess I could get it for ya, what with you not walking so good.”

Jacob didn’t really want the coffee, but he accepted the cup and thanked the man. Though he didn’t encourage him, the ticket master sat down on the bench beside Jacob and chattered about the weather, news of the war, and the number of trains that would be coming through in the next few hours. He was relieved when an older couple entered the depot and walked to the ticket counter.

The depot manager sighed and pushed to his feet. “Sorry to leave ya alone, but I need to see to these folks.”

“That’s quite all right. I know you have a job to do.” Jacob downed a swallow of the coffee and immediately sputtered at the bitter taste of the hot liquid. After placing the cup on the bench, he removed the locket from his jacket. Their stop in the small town would be only long enough to take on wood and water, and he was sure the whistle would soon alert him to their impending departure.

He snapped open the clasp and the locket fell open. His breath caught as he read the inscription:
To the Sweetest Girl.
On the opposing side of the locket was the picture of a handsome young man in uniform.

How could Sarah do this to him? No doubt the young soldier had given her the locket before he marched off to join his regiment—to remember him—to hold him close to her heart. Well, she may have held his locket close to her heart, but she hadn’t remembered him or held him close. And it now seemed that, like Laura, she hadn’t been true either to him or Jacob.

F
or the remainder of the journey to Chicago, Jacob was besieged by a combination of confusion and sorrow. The pain from his fall at the depot only served to make matters worse. His ankle continued to swell, and his hip throbbed with an ache that matched the gnawing pain in his heart.

His hand remained deep in his pocket, with the locket chain threaded through his fingers. Though his duty required him to assist each of the men off the train and into the makeshift ambulances that would deliver them to the hospital, his own injuries now prohibited him from performing his duties. When an attendant from the hospital finally entered their car, Jacob explained his mishap.

“I’m not going to be any help getting the men off the train. Corporal Franklin is in charge of the injured soldiers in the adjoining car. Once they’ve unloaded, I think he’d be willing to help you with my men.”

The hospital attendant stooped down to inspect Jacob’s ankle. “You’d best stay right here until we get you a crutch. That ankle might be broken, so it will be better if you don’t put any weight on your foot. I’ll see if I can find one for you, and then I’ll speak to Corporal Franklin.”

Jacob thanked the soldier and scooted down to rest his head against the hard wooden seat. He felt useless sitting there while the soldiers remained in their cots, each one eager to be off the train and transported to a hospital bed. Yet he had no choice, for even before the hospital attendant had examined his ankle, Jacob suspected it was more than a slight sprain. Fortunately, the men understood his plight and didn’t complain—at least not much.

When the last of the men had been moved from the train, the attendant returned with a pair of crutches for Jacob. With the attendant holding one of his arms, Jacob gingerly stood on his good foot and situated the crutches beneath each of his arms. The attendant moved back and Jacob took a swinging step. Careful to keep his right knee bent and the injured foot in the air, Jacob and the attendant made their way to the steps where another man awaited them.

“We’ll lift you down. We don’t want you trying to use those crutches on the steps.” The attendant didn’t wait for Jacob to agree. Instead, the two men took his crutches and hoisted him down from the train.

Being lifted from the train into a makeshift ambulance left Jacob feeling dependent in a way he’d never before experienced. He hoped he wouldn’t ever again face such a need. No doubt the injured soldiers suffered the same feelings each time they required help. Jacob hadn’t considered how the need for assistance could gnaw at his manhood. Little wonder some of the soldiers became angry and abrupt whenever he attempted to lend aid.

The fact that Jacob’s injuries had occurred on a slick depot platform rather than during a skirmish only caused him further anguish. The doctors were needed to treat wounded soldiers, men who had been injured in battle—not a clumsy corporal assigned as an escort. If his father, who already considered Jacob’s military assignment an embarrassment, ever got wind of this event, Jacob would never hear the end of it. When Jacob closed his eyes, he could still hear the pride in his father’s voice as he spoke of his brother, Malcolm, fighting at Antietam. Indeed, a fall on a slippery platform would provide his father with enough ridicule to last a lifetime.

The wagon ride to the hospital had been bumpy, and with each lurch of the wagon, pain stabbed his hip like a hot poker. Though the wagon had been covered with a makeshift canvas and the men were wrapped in the quilts and blankets the good ladies of Decatur had provided, their teeth chattered and they huddled close together. The freezing winds that crossed Lake Michigan assailed them with a piercing iciness that cut to the bone, but Jacob didn’t complain. Shivering, he held fast to the locket and prayed his heart wouldn’t turn as cold as his freezing fingers.

Once the wounded soldiers had been assisted into the hospital, the medical staff took charge with tactical precision and assigned each of the injured soldiers to a specific hospital ward. Jacob, however, was taken to an examination room, where the doctor pronounced his ankle badly sprained. Though Jacob objected, the doctor insisted the ankle would be more seriously injured if he returned to duty before the swelling diminished and the ankle had time to strengthen. Had the doctor been a civilian rather than an officer in the army, Jacob might have disobeyed. He silently cringed when he was transported to a ward filled with amputees who’d lost limbs while fighting for the Union. They’d likely have a good laugh at him when they discovered his injury had been received while trying to navigate a slippery depot platform.

He threaded the locket’s chain through his fingers and settled his head against a lifeless pillow. When Jacob had departed the train, Corporal Franklin had offered to notify friends or family of Jacob’s whereabouts. For a fleeting moment, he’d considered sending word to Sarah but then changed his mind. Perhaps she could use the additional time to write letters to the fellow whose picture she carried in her locket.

Sarah stood inside the depot as the train returning from Chicago huffed into the station the following day. She remained with her nose pressed near the glass until the train eventually departed. Maybe she’d misunderstood, but she was sure that Jacob had said he’d return on this train. Slowly, she made her way out of the depot and returned home. There had been no word of a mishap with the train. If an accident had occurred, a message would have been received at the depot. And if Jacob had been detained somehow, she was certain he would have sent word.

Her breath caught. Maybe Jacob sent word and Matthew hadn’t told her. Sarah turned on her heel and hurried back to the station. Once inside, she passed through the café and entered the hotel.

Matthew leaned across the counter as she approached. “This is a surprise. Have you come to join me in a cup of coffee?”

Sarah shook her head. “No. I wondered if a telegraph had come about the hospital trains. The ones that return from Chicago to Cairo to pick up more of the wounded soldiers.”

He pushed up from the counter and squared his shoulders. “This is about Corporal Curtis. Am I right?”

She gave a slight nod. “I thought perhaps he sent word he’d been detained in Chicago. He was supposed to have come through on the train returning to Cairo today.”

Matthew hiked a shoulder. “How many times have I told you that you can’t depend upon the promises of a soldier during wartime, Sarah? You think Corporal Curtis is different, but I’m telling you that he isn’t. Maybe he was offered an opportunity to leave his assignment on the hospital trains and he jumped at the chance.”

“You’re wrong. Jacob has no intention of requesting a change of assignment.”

Matthew arched his brows. “You go ahead and believe whatever you want. I know how men think. Jacob may tell you he’s happy to stay away from the fighting, but I know better.”

Sarah studied him a moment, regretting the entire conversation. Matthew wouldn’t tell her the truth even if he had received word from Jacob. “You may think you know better about other men, but I know Jacob, and I’m certain he’s told me the truth.”

“Why do you think some soldier you barely know is more trustworthy than me?”

Recollections of Matthew’s many half truths and deceptions flooded her mind. She wanted to tell him she knew how he’d tried to take advantage of Elsie and how he’d told Johnny Folson to stay away from the depot, but she’d given them both her word. She’d have to remain silent, but hearing Matthew continue to argue against Jacob only strengthened her resolve.

“Is it because I’m not wearing a uniform? Is that why you want nothing to do with me? You think I don’t know half the town calls me a coward behind my back? Why wouldn’t I believe you think the same way?”