“Well, that’s not so serious.” Pa looked to Libby. “What’s really bothering you?”
“Peter also carries matches.” Libby spit out her words.
“Matches?”
“And he uses them.”
“That is serious,” Pa said.
“I found Peter sitting under the stairs to the pilothouse. He was holding a lighted candle. When I told him you don’t allow us to have matches and candles, he ran away from me.”
Pa sighed. Standing up, he walked over to Peter. Holding out his hand, he motioned to a chair, and they all sat down around the table.
Taking a slate, Pa started writing. “Peter, why did you light a candle?”
“To see in the dark,” Peter said.
“That’s a good reason,” Pa wrote. “But the wind might catch the flame and start a fire.”
When Peter looked from one to another, Pa wrote again. “Do you understand?”
“I understand I must be careful not to start a fire,” Peter answered.
“Good,” Pa said, then remembered to write. “Give me your candle and matches.”
Slowly, as if he were giving up his prized possession, Peter took the candle from his pocket.
“And the matches,” Pa wrote.
As though not wanting to obey, Peter hesitated. But Pa waited. Finally Peter gave him the matches.
Watching them, Libby felt proud of herself. I stopped something really serious, she thought. Maybe I even saved the Christina.
But when Peter left the cabin, he walked with his head bowed.
Something bothers him much more than being caught, Libby thought. Only then did she remember that she had found Peter crying. Libby sighed. I had to tell Pa. But maybe I could have found a better way.
That night Libby woke to hear the engines throbbing and the paddle wheels slapping the water as the Christina steamed downriver. The next morning Pa and Caleb talked again about his going to the courthouse in the county where Jordan’s father was sold. As Libby stood with them on the hurricane deck, the sunlight felt warm and cheerful. But Libby already felt cold with dread about what could happen to Caleb.
“You know there might be a cost to your doing this,” Pa warned him.
Caleb straightened. “I know, sir.”
“And you want to do it anyway?”
“I want to go anyway.”
“You’ve prayed about it?”
“Yes, sir. Ever since you told me there was a way for Jordan to find out about his father. When I prayed about it, I found a Bible verse that was so real it seemed to jump off the page.”
In that moment Libby felt sure she knew what verse God had made real to Caleb. Looking up, she saw Caleb watching her again. As she wondered if he knew what she was thinking, her face grew warm with embarrassment.
“Dress up in your Sunday suit,” the captain warned Caleb. “Walk into the courthouse as if you know what you’re doing. Act as if you have the right to ask.”
Then, as soon as Pa prayed for him, Caleb disappeared into his room.
Half an hour later, when the Christina tied up at the riverbank, Libby watched from the hurricane deck. As soon as the gangplank went down, Caleb left the boat.
In his suit, white shirt, and tie, he looked at least two years older than his age. Deep inside, Libby felt a warm glow that she could be his friend. Whenever Caleb let her be a part of his life and his work for the Underground Railroad, Libby felt proud that she knew him.
But now it was Caleb’s role in that secret plan that worried Libby. Over the years slave catchers in southeastern Iowa and parts of Missouri had started to find out what Caleb was doing. Wherever he was recognized, slave catchers watched him closely. Often Libby wondered, What would happen if Caleb was caught with a runaway slave? Would he be treated like an adult and sent to jail?
A short distance beyond the piles of freight on the riverfront, Caleb turned around. When he looked up, Libby knew he expected to find her there. As though rooting for someone in a race, Libby closed her fists in Peter’s sign. Raising both hands, she brought them forward, then down. When Caleb signed back, Libby returned his grin.
He looks excited, Libby thought. Excited and happy that he can do something to help Jordan’s family. Sometimes Libby thought that Caleb thrived on danger, and maybe he did. In those moments of quick, difficult choices, he always seemed at his best.
Hour after hour Libby waited for Caleb to return. When morning turned into afternoon, she saw that even Pa looked worried. Finally Libby went to her room high on the texas deck. On her desk was the piece of carefully sanded pinewood Caleb had given her. As Libby picked it up, Peter knocked on the door.
“What’s it say?” he asked when Libby held the wood so he couldn’t see the letters.
At first Libby didn’t want to show it to him. Then she remembered the way she treated Peter the night before. When she turned the plaque for him to see, he read the words aloud, as if it were a favorite verse.
“I’ll teach you signs for the first part,” he offered, and Libby followed him out to the deck.
“First word,” said Peter, pointing to the word Lord. With the thumb and index finger on his right hand, he made an L. With his palm facing out, he touched his thumb to his chest about four inches from his left shoulder. As though he were a king wearing a ribbon filled with medals, he drew the L down across his chest to his right hip.
“Lord,” Peter said again, as if wanting to be sure Libby understood.
Again he pointed to the plaque. “Second word. My.” His fingers together, Peter held the flat palm of his right hand against the center of his chest.
“Third word. Light.”
With both hands near his chest, Peter held the thumb and fingers of each hand together, as though ready to pick up grains of sand from a beach. Slowly spreading wide the fingers on both hands, he gradually stretched out his arms until both hands were high above his head.
Like the rays of the sun, Libby thought, deeply moved. Like the sun rising on my birthday.
“The Lord is my light,” she said softly. Peter seemed to read her lips, for he nodded.
As he repeated all the motions, Libby watched carefully until she could do them herself. Then she remembered to write, “Peter, were you crying last night?”
The ten-year-old ducked his head, and Libby knew he didn’t want to talk about it. Was he lonely for his parents?
When Peter left, Libby went back to her room. She felt restless, worried, unable to think about anything except what was happening to Caleb. Then as she set down the piece of wood with the words he had given her, Libby felt ashamed. Already I’ve forgotten the promise. Already I’ve forgotten that it’s you, God, who takes care of Caleb.
More than once Libby had seen Jordan get down on his knees to pray. Suddenly Libby found herself next to her bed on her knees, her face in the quilt. Her prayers began with telling God how scared she felt about Caleb. But slowly, gradually, peace crept into her heart. One thought became real—the promise of the Lord as her light and her salvation.
When at last Libby stood up, she had no doubt that her trust in God would be tested again. She had no doubt that fear would again knock on the door of her heart. But now, in this moment, something in her life had changed.
As she brushed her deep red hair, the sun shone through the window and brought out the gold highlights. In the mirror Libby saw the glow in her face. “You, Lord, are my light and my salvation,” she whispered.
When Caleb finally returned to the Christina, he, too, saw the change in Libby. For the first time he told her, “Thanks for praying for me.”
Once again they gathered around the table in the captain’s cabin—Caleb, Jordan, Peter, Pa, and Libby. Caleb’s eyes sparkled with success, yet Libby also caught a deeper look of something else.
“When I asked about Jordan’s father, the man in the courthouse told me the name and address of Micah Parker’s new owner. He also said the owner lived nearby.”
In the
same way that Pa had checked a few nights before, Caleb walked over to the windows and searched the deck just outside. With Libby writing for Peter, Caleb went on with his story.
“I started suspecting something because of the way the man in the courthouse acted. When I asked a question, I spoke in a quiet voice. When he answered, he spoke in a loud voice. Heads turned, and a rough-looking man crowded close.
“I left, thinking I’d ask directions from someone else. But the rough-looking man followed me. I had to shake him before I did anything else.
“For a while I hid out between two warehouses. From there I could see the man looking around, as though wondering where I’d gone. Before long he met a man I haven’t seen before.
“While they were talking, I slipped away and got the directions I needed. Micah Parker’s master owns a number of really good horses, and Micah took care of them.”
Libby caught the change in Caleb’s story. “Took care of them?” she asked. “He doesn’t take care of them now?”
“Nope. As I watched the stable, I saw an eight- or nine-year-old boy go inside. He seemed to be a young slave who worked there. I crept close and asked him, ‘Do you know Micah Parker?’ The boy looked scared.”
“‘I don’t know nothin’ about him!’ he said.
“‘Nothing?’ I asked. I knew the boy was lying because he was afraid. ‘I’m Micah Parker’s friend,’ I said, but he didn’t trust me. He kept edging away, and I knew he’d run at any moment.
“Finally I said, ‘Micah Parker’s son Jordan is my friend.’
“The minute the boy heard Jordan’s name, he looked around to be sure no one could hear. Then he whispered, ‘Micah always told me he was goin’ to find his family. Tell Jordan his daddy ran away last night.’
“‘He got away?’ I whispered back.
“‘Yassuh. I heard the dogs bark.’”
Suddenly Jordan broke into Caleb’s story. “I am going there! I am going to find that stable boy and find which way my daddy went!”
“You can’t go there,” Caleb answered. “If the wrong person sees you, that’s the end of your freedom.”
“I ain’t going to let nobody see me.”
“Shush!” Caleb said, and went on. “Then the stable boy told me, ‘I heard the dogs goin’ toward the river. When the men came back, they be hoppin’ mad. Master called out even more men—biggest bunch I ever seed. They searched up and down the river, but no boat were there. Toward sunup they came back too. One of them said, ‘I bet that Micah drowned.’”
CHAPTER 9
Secret in the Rock
Drowned?” Captain Norstad looked at Jordan, a worried frown on his face.
But Jordan surprised them with a grin. “My daddy didn’t drown. Ain’t nobody who can swim the way he can. If he was near the river, he crossed it.”
“Your daddy could swim across the Mississippi River?” Libby asked. “How come he didn’t teach you?” More than once it had been a problem that Jordan didn’t know how to swim.
“No lake or river or crick where we were livin’,” Jordan said. “Daddy always told me, ‘Jordan, the minute we get near water, I am going to make a swimmer out of you.’ But my daddy was sold away.”
“So maybe your father really did escape,” Captain Norstad said. “Around here there are a lot of islands in the river. He could swim from one to another.”
“Yassuh.” Jordan seemed to have no doubt in his mind. “What happened next?” he asked Caleb.
“The stable boy said, ‘Today I heard a poundin’ on that tree down the road.’ He pointed to a large oak. ‘Can you read?’ he asked. ‘Maybe that paper will tell you what you wants to know.’
“There were a hundred things I wanted to ask,” Caleb said. “But I knew if someone found the boy talking to me, he’d be whipped. So I crept away. The reward poster was about Micah Parker, all right. There’s an even bigger reward for him than for you,” Caleb told Jordan.
Again Jordan grinned, as though enjoying the story of his daddy’s escape. “Us Parkers have value, all right. There ain’t nobody who knows horses the way my daddy does.”
“When I started back to the Christina, I kept looking around,” Caleb went on. “Several times I hid along the way to see if someone would pass me. Once I saw a man jump out of sight, so I used every trick I know to lose someone.”
Caleb looked tired, and now Libby knew why the day had grown so long.
“I was sure I had shaken the person following me,” Caleb went on. “So I hurried on board the Christina. But when I slipped down behind some freight, I looked back. Just then I saw that rough-looking man who was in the courthouse.”
“He followed you all that way?” Captain Norstad was concerned. “To where Jordan’s father lived and back?”
“Maybe,” Caleb answered. “Maybe not. The man he was talking to could have recognized me. If he knew what boat I was from, we’re in trouble.”
Captain Norstad agreed. “Since you went there about the time Jordan’s father escaped, they might think you had something to do with it.”
Standing up, Captain Norstad left to give orders. Already the Christina had her steam up so she could leave on a moment’s notice.
Going out on the hurricane deck, Libby lay down on her stomach and peered through the railing. Within a few minutes, deckhands took in the lines, and the Christina blew her departing whistle. Watching the waterfront, Libby tried to spot anyone who might be watching. If someone was there, he was well hidden.
Soon Caleb, Jordan, and Peter joined Libby on the deck. As the Christina steamed downstream, the Illinois River flowed into the Mississippi, creating an even wider expanse of water. Whenever Libby saw one of the many islands dotting the river, she wondered, Is Jordan’s father hiding there? Or did he make it all the way across?
Even if Micah Parker stopped at the islands, the current in the river was strong. No doubt about it, if Jordan’s father crossed around here, he had to be a very good swimmer.
Or desperate. As if a cold chill had crept into the hot July wind, Libby shivered.
“As soon as we get to Alton, I’ll start asking questions,” Caleb promised Jordan. “We’ll find out if your father went through there. And we’ll check that address Serena found. Maybe we’ll find the swindler too.”
“But how are we going to find my daddy?” Jordan asked.
“If we take an Underground Railroad route, we might find someone who has seen him.”
When Captain Norstad returned, he knelt down on the deck behind them and spoke in a low voice. “Caleb, you’re heading into the most dangerous situation you’ve had yet. More important than any money is the life of Micah Parker. If he was able to cross the river, he’ll find the Underground Railroad. As dangerous as that is, there’s something worse.”
Captain Norstad waited until each of them turned to face him. “If you ask questions about Jordan’s father and the wrong person hears, you’ll put Micah’s life in danger. And Jordan might be taken back into slavery.”
The captain looked from one to the other. “Don’t forget. At Alton you’ll be only twenty-three river miles away from where Jordan escaped.”
Instead of north-to-south, this part of the Mississippi flowed from west to east. Tall limestone bluffs rose sharply upward on the Illinois side of the river. As the Christina drew close to the city of Alton, Libby gazed at the rugged hillside, the gray stone walls of the prison, and the warehouses hugging the shore. Now, with a deeper understanding of what they meant, she felt drawn to the church steeples rising above the other buildings.
Soon the Christina nosed alongside the large flat rock that formed a natural wharf. There was no freight waiting for Pa.
As usual, he did not complain, but Libby saw the expression on his face. Another steamboat had no doubt arrived just before them, taking all the freight and passengers headed for St. Louis. It cost money to run with a half-empty boat, and that was happening to Pa on this trip.
August fifteenth, Libby thou
ght, no longer able to push away her worry. Today is Thursday, July thirtieth. The deadline for Pa’s loan is only sixteen days away. If only we could find the money stolen from Pa and from Jordan.
“I don’t want to leave you here,” Pa said when he told Libby he had to keep going to St. Louis to pick up freight and passengers. “But I don’t have any choice. I’ll come back as soon as I can.”
“We’ll find an Underground Railroad conductor quickly enough,” Caleb told him.
Pa grinned. “I’m sure you will. If you have to leave town, leave word for me at the real depot.” The building where people waited for the St. Louis, Alton and Chicago trains was about five or six blocks from the river.
Then Pa grew serious. “Libby, you be responsible for Peter, okay?”
When she nodded, Pa went on. “All of you need to promise me one thing. If you find the swindler, get help from a grownup—a policeman or sheriff. Someone like that.”
Like Caleb, Jordan, and Peter, Libby carried a few extra clothes in a cloth bag on her back. When the others started to leave, Libby stayed behind to give her own goodbye to Pa.
“You know how you talked about Peter needing sunlight?” she asked him. “There’s something dark in his life. Something I don’t understand.”
“Maybe that’s what I was trying to say about wanting him to grow up in the sunlight,” Pa said. “When we know Peter better, we might discover all kinds of secrets—things that are much harder than being deaf.”
As Libby stepped down on the wharf, she felt empty in the pit of her stomach. Whenever Pa was around, life seemed safe and filled with love, no matter what happened. Now Libby hated to see him leave.
Turning, she waved to her father, then followed the boys to the riverbank. As always when Caleb slipped into his Underground Railroad role, he strolled along, looking as if nothing important was happening. But Libby knew better. Only four months before, Jordan had escaped to this very city to make his way onto the Christina.
Pausing here, then there, Caleb kept walking. When he and Jordan stopped at the great piles of wood used for fuel on steamboats, Jordan suddenly disappeared. Now how did he do that? Libby wondered.
The Swindler's Treasure Page 7
