The Swindler's Treasure

by Lois Walfrid Johnson

  The July day was warm and humid, and the windows in Pa’s cabin were open. For a moment he walked around, looking through the windows as though making sure that no one hid on the deck to listen. Then he returned to where the rest of them sat at the table.

  “Word has gotten around about how you rescued your family,” the captain told Jordan. “It will be an especially dangerous time to ask about your father.”

  Jordan nodded, as though he understood the risks.

  But then Pa said, “When we get close to the county in which your father was sold, you need to hide.”

  Clearly Jordan was disappointed. “Who will do the asking at the courthouse?”

  “Not Captain Norstad,” Caleb said quickly. “If the wrong person sees him there, it could wreck everything he’s doing to help runaway slaves.”

  Pa agreed. “Slave catchers will search the Christina even more than they do now. Caleb needs to be the one who asks.”

  “Caleb?” Libby asked. Deep inside she felt scared just thinking about the danger.

  But Jordan objected. “Captain Norstad, slave catchers know Caleb. They know what he’s up to. If they recognize him, they’ll be watching him every second.”

  “That’s why I’m leaving the decision up to Caleb and his grandmother. It’s impossible for you to go, Jordan. But it’s almost as dangerous for him.”

  The captain turned to Caleb. “Before we get there, I want you and Gran to agree on what you should do.”

  Then he changed the subject. “We have a number of stops on the way down the river. Tomorrow night we’ll tie up in Hannibal, Missouri. On Wednesday morning, before first light, we’ll start our celebration of Libby’s fourteenth birthday.”

  “My birthday?” Until now Pa hadn’t spoken a word about it. The way Caleb looked, she suspected he already knew Pa’s plans. But neither he nor Pa would tell her more.

  “Don’t be surprised if Caleb’s grandmother wakes you up when it’s still dark,” Pa told Libby.

  “So Gran is in on it too?” Libby could hardly wait for her big day.

  In the early morning hours, Libby heard a quiet rap on the door of her room, then the soft voice of Caleb’s grandmother. “Happy birthday, Libby.”

  Kneeling on her bed, Libby reached out to open the door.

  “Are you awake?” Gran asked as she came in. “It’s your special day!”

  “I’m awake.” Libby’s voice was groggy, but then she remembered. “It really is my birthday!”

  Because of the danger of fire, Libby wasn’t allowed to have a lamp in her room. In the darkness she heard Gran set a pitcher of water on the washstand in the corner.

  As Libby yawned and stretched, the corn husks in her mattress crackled. When Gran left, Libby bounded out of bed. She didn’t want to waste one moment of this special day.

  The warm water felt good on her face and arms. As soon as she finished washing, Libby put on the dress she liked best after giving away her favorite. Though she could not see much of the dress in her small mirror, she knew the soft blue brought out the honey color in her skin. Brushing her deep red hair, she pulled up the front strands, tying them in place with a ribbon.

  When Libby reached the main deck, passengers were still sleeping wherever they had found a place to lie down. At the bottom of the steps Pa waited in the dark. When his arm circled her shoulders in a quick hug, he whispered, “Happy Birthday, Libby!”

  “Where are we going, Pa?” she whispered back, but he wouldn’t tell her.

  As Libby crossed the deck, Peter was ahead of her. At the gangplank he stopped, as if not sure whether he should walk down.

  “Go ahead, Peter,” Libby said softly, then remembered he couldn’t hear.

  Instead of moving on, Peter held back. Then, as if offering a special escort for Libby’s birthday, he turned to her and held out his arm. When she took it, he walked sideways down the gangplank.

  Gran, Caleb, and Jordan stood next to a team of horses and a wagon. Gran climbed up to the high seat next to Pa, and Libby and the boys sat on the straw in the back of the wagon. As it rolled through the streets of Hannibal, Libby saw the darkness of night beginning to fade.

  Before long the wagon rumbled over a bridge, then tilted upward when the horses started up a long hill. In the grayness before dawn, Pa drove the horses off the road and halted them near the beginning of a trail.

  Now Libby was really curious. With her eyes used to the dusky light, she had no problem seeing the way. But why was Pa taking them here? And what did this have to do with her birthday?

  With Pa leading, the rest of them followed single file. As they walked, the rough trail grew more and more steep. Now and then they stopped to rest, and Caleb’s grandmother breathed deeply to catch her breath. Gran was at least fifteen years older than Pa, and it was a difficult climb for persons of any age.

  When they reached a large mound, they followed the trail along its side to the top of the bluff. In the half-light only moments before dawn, Libby turned toward the river. A short distance from where she stood, the mound sloped down to a large, flat rock. Jutting out like a shelf, the rock fell sharply away for two hundred feet.

  Taking Libby’s hand, Pa led her to a safe distance from the edge. As the others gathered around, Libby stared at the enormous drop in front of her. Her heart pounding, she wanted to turn and run in the opposite direction.

  Pa doesn’t know my fear of heights, Libby thought. Panic washed over her, and she felt as if she were falling forward.

  In that moment her father squeezed her hand. Libby’s world steadied, and she saw beyond the jagged rock. Stretched out before her lay the great Mississippi River and its wide valley.

  “Look!” Pa said, and with his words, Libby forgot her fear.

  Far across the silvery water, beyond the hills six miles away, rosecolored light spread above the line of trees. Without speaking, Libby watched the water turn pink. Above the river, clouds, like puffs of cotton, caught the changing light.

  As the color swept around her, Libby turned slowly, and the others turned with her. In the north, south, and even the western sky, thin bands of clouds reflected the rose light. Never in all her life had Libby seen anything like the glory of that sunrise.

  Then, as golden light spread upward, the pink faded. The top arc of the great orange ball that was the sun appeared above the horizon.

  “It’s the dawning of your fourteenth birthday,” Pa said quietly. “Happy birthday, Libby.”

  Fourteen! Libby wanted to sing, to dance, to shout—to tell the whole world, I’m almost grown up!

  Then she remembered. I’ve never been fourteen before. What will it be like? How will this year be different from any other year of my life?

  I’m not a little girl anymore. Yet when Libby looked ahead to being a woman, she felt scared.

  As she thought about how Pa had planned this moment for her, Libby’s throat tightened. Blinking away her tears, Libby squeezed his hand back. “Thank you, Pa.”

  Without speaking, she and the others stood there as the orange light moved upward. When the sun grew too bright to watch, Libby looked out over the streets and buildings of Hannibal. From where she stood, the Christina looked like a small white toy—a plaything a child could float in any puddle of water. But for Libby the Christina was home.

  Down the river, then up, Libby’s gaze followed the shoreline. By the time they were ready to leave, the sun had cast a pathway of light across the waters of the Mississippi. Turning on the great jagged rock for a final look, Libby watched the waves ripple against the shore far below them.

  I’ll never forget seeing the sun rise on my fourteenth birthday, she thought. Best of all, the people I love most are gathered around me.

  At the bottom of the bluff again, they drove to a grove of trees called Cave Hollow. When Caleb carried a large picnic basket from the wagon, Gran spread a tablecloth on the grass and set out the food.

  As everyone sat down around the cloth, Pa again reached out his
hand to Libby. One by one they clasped hands until the circle was complete.

  Bowing his head, Pa started to pray. “We thank you, Father, that you are the one who created Libby. You are the one who gave her this special day. Even as the sun rose upon her fourteenth birthday, we ask you to watch over her. Care for her, protect her, give her your love. And most of all, Lord, help her to become strong in you.”

  When the silence grew long, Libby looked up to find Pa watching her.

  “In the name of our Lord, we bless you, Libby.” His voice was husky with emotion.

  As Libby looked around the circle, the warm feeling of being loved filled her to overflowing. Pa. Caleb. Gran. Jordan. And now Peter. My never-give-up family, Libby thought. We don’t always agree, but we stick together. No matter what happens, we’re a family.

  Then, seeing Peter, Libby remembered that she had forgotten to talk on his slate. Did he understand what was going on?

  When Peter grinned at her, Libby knew. Though he hadn’t heard every word, he understood.

  Gran began offering food: boiled eggs still in the shell, slices of fresh peaches, golden pears, and the cinnamon rolls that Libby loved.

  As they were eating, Libby felt curious. Caleb was fourteen, almost fifteen now, and Peter had told Libby he was ten. But what about Jordan?

  “How old are you?” Libby asked him.

  Jordan was enjoying his food so much that when he shrugged his shoulders, Libby thought he didn’t want to stop eating.

  “Fifteen?” Libby asked. “Sixteen?”

  Again Jordan shrugged.

  “When’s your birthday?”

  This time Jordan looked directly at her. “I ain’t got no idea.”

  Libby stared at him. How could someone possibly not know his own birthday?

  “Momma didn’t have any way of knowing the day I was born,” Jordan explained. “And she didn’t know how to write it down. Momma said Old Master put it in his book.”

  “Serena?” Libby asked, even more curious now. “Does Serena know when her birthday is?”

  Jordan shook his head.

  “Zack?”

  Again Jordan shook his head.

  “Little Rose?”

  Jordan grinned. “Rose was born when the roses bloomed.”

  “Do you know the time of year you were born?” Libby asked.

  “Momma said it was before the time of harvest. Before the corn was bending down, ready to be picked.”

  “Then could it be a day in September?” Libby asked. “You decide when, and we’ll celebrate.”

  But Jordan once again shook his head.

  “You don’t want to celebrate your birthday?” Libby asked.

  Jordan’s eyes were solemn now—dark and deep with how strongly he felt. “I want my birthday to be the day I know my daddy is free.”

  CHAPTER 8

  Jordan’s Daddy

  Libby ate until she was full, then began opening her gifts. Gran had sewed her a new skirt. From Pa came drawing pencils and paper. Jordan gave her a half-open clam shell—clean, polished, and beautiful. And from Peter, a drawing of a sunrise and the words, Happy Birthday, Libby.

  When there were no more gifts to open, Libby looked up to find Caleb watching her. “I’ll have a present for you later,” he said, and Libby could only feel curious.

  As she and the others returned to the Christina, Caleb told her more. “I’ll give you my present as the sun sets on your fourteenth birthday.”

  The sun was low in the sky when Caleb found Libby sitting near the bow of the Christina. On the deck around them, other people talked together or played games.

  “Your pa has business in Hannibal,” Caleb said. “We’re not leaving till sometime tonight.”

  Caleb kept one hand behind him. When he sat down on a nearby crate, Libby knew he had hidden something behind his back, for his hand came out empty.

  What is it? she wondered as she had all day. She could hardly wait to find out.

  For Libby half the fun of the day was remembering all that had happened. In her mind’s eye, she could still see the sun rising on her fourteenth birthday.

  “That was Illinois you were looking at,” Caleb reminded her as Libby described the view across the river.

  Only once did they talk about what would happen the next morning. “What are you going to do about finding Jordan’s father?” Libby asked.

  But Caleb shook his head, not wanting to talk about it. “Don’t spoil your birthday.”

  The sun had dropped behind the hills of Hannibal when Libby spoke again. “Caleb, I’m scared about you going to that courthouse. I’m scared that someone will recognize you, that he’ll accuse you of helping slaves and have you thrown in jail.”

  “Shhh!” Caleb said. “The sun is setting. I said I’d give you your present now.” Looking half embarrassed, Caleb reached behind his back and handed her a gift.

  When Libby took the package, she felt the weight of it. Then, as the wrapping paper fell away, she understood why Caleb didn’t want her to open his gift in front of the others. In the center of a piece of carefully sanded pinewood, Caleb had carved letters. With a reddish stain made from berries along the river, he had colored each letter:

  THE LORD IS MY LIGHT

  AND MY SALVATION;

  WHOM SHALL I FEAR?

  Psalm 27:1

  Libby caught her breath. Never had she seen anything so beautifully carved. Yet it was more than that. “The Lord is my light,” she said. “He leads me and shows me the way. But He’s also my salvation.”

  As clearly as if it happened only moments before, Libby thought back to the spring day when she nearly died. Because of that life-and-death moment, she knew how much she needed Jesus.

  “It was a miracle, wasn’t it?” Libby asked as she thought about that time. “Remember our walk along the river and how I almost drowned?”

  Caleb nodded.

  “Remember how we talked around the campfire? I asked Jesus to forgive my sins. He gave me His forgiveness. I asked for His salvation, and He gave me His peace. My life has been different ever since.”

  Now Caleb had given her a promise she could repeat to herself and remember. In the last light of the sun, Libby traced each letter with a finger. When she finally looked up, she found Caleb watching her.

  “Thank you,” Libby said softly. “I will treasure your gift forever. When I need to remember what Jesus has done, I’ll think of the words.”

  “There’s more to the verse,” Caleb told her. “‘The Lord is the strength of my life; of whom shall I be afraid?’”

  As he and Libby talked, the sky grew dark. On the deck around them, people talked less, then fell silent.

  “You know,” Caleb said. “I’m glad you want to work with the Underground Railroad.”

  His words surprised Libby. When she first met Caleb, he had tried to keep her from taking part. “Why do you say that?” she asked.

  “It’s good to be friends,” Caleb answered.

  Libby’s heart leaped. “Yes, it’s good to be friends.”

  Far above them the stars appeared, twinkling in the night sky. Libby yawned and stretched, then stood up to leave.

  “It’s been a perfect day,” she said. “Thanks for everything.”

  Starting up the wide stairs at the front of the boat, she thought again about all that had happened from the moment Gran woke her until now. Libby wanted to hug this time to herself and remember it as the most wonderful day of her life.

  When she reached the texas deck, she started toward her cabin. Just then she heard a noise from somewhere close by. Standing in the dark, Libby listened, then moved toward the sound. It seemed to be a soft sniffling, as if the person was trying to hide how he felt.

  What is it? Someone crying?

  At the back end of the boxlike structure called the texas, a stairway led to the pilothouse. As Libby rounded the corner, she saw a small light beneath the steps.

  Uh-oh! Libby thought. Is that fire I see?<
br />
  Quietly she crept closer. Peter! Sitting in the dark with a candle!

  When Libby suddenly appeared in front of him, he jumped. Eyes wide with fear, he almost dropped the candle.

  “What are you doing?” Libby asked, then remembered he couldn’t hear.

  Peter’s slate lay on the deck beside him. Picking it up, Libby tipped the slate toward the moon and started writing. “You can’t have a candle. It’s against the rules.”

  Holding out the candle, Peter read what she said. Drops of wax fell on Libby’s words. That upset her even more.

  “Rules?” Peter asked.

  “Rules of the boat,” Libby wrote. “Because of the danger of fire, Pa does not allow us to have candles or matches up here.”

  As soon as Peter read what she said, Libby stretched out her hand. But Peter shook his head, as if he didn’t understand.

  Libby took the slate again. “Give me your candle and matches. You can’t have them.”

  Still looking confused, Peter jumped up.

  As though repeating her words, Libby tapped the slate. “Give them to me!”

  Instead Peter backed away. When Libby started after him, he blew out the candle and began to run. In the darkness he stumbled, falling the two steps to the hurricane deck.

  Stopping in her tracks, Libby panicked. The railing around the hurricane deck was low. What if Peter falls over?

  Just then Caleb came up the stairway from the boiler deck. As Peter picked himself up, he ran into Caleb.

  “Hey! What’s wrong?” Caleb asked.

  “Hang on to him!” Libby exclaimed. Whirling around, she stomped across the texas deck to Pa’s cabin.

  When she threw open the door, she found Pa sitting in his big chair. With his first look at Libby he stopped rocking.

  “That boy you took into our family just wrecked a perfect day!” Libby sputtered.

  “What’s wrong?” Pa asked as Caleb and Peter appeared at the door.

  “I was just coming to talk to you, when Peter ran into me,” Caleb said. “For some reason he carries a candle in his pocket. A candle wrapped up in a waterproof cloth.”