The Fiddler's Secret

by Lois Walfrid Johnson

  But his freedom didn’t last. Though the dog darted away, the youngest bully caught him.

  Upset by the dog’s squeals, Libby balled her fists. The minute the youngest bully looked up, she struck him in the nose. As blood gushed out of his nostrils, the boy dropped the dog.

  Horrified, Libby stepped back. But Peter rushed forward, grabbed the dog, and headed for the gangplank. “Run for it!” he cried.

  Her knees weak, Libby felt she couldn’t move. Then the tallest bully whirled around and started toward her. Libby leaped away and kept running. By the time she raced up the gangplank, she was out of breath.

  From the safety of the main deck, she looked back. Already the other bullies were teasing the boy with the bloody nose. Peter found Caleb and Jordan.

  Caleb looked from Peter to Libby. “Hey! What’s up?”

  Peter grinned. “Libby gave a boy a bloody nose!”

  “Really?” Caleb asked Libby. “The society girl from Chicago gave a boy a bloody nose?”

  Libby was embarrassed. “Peter, be quiet!” Then she remembered their sign for “Shush!”

  But Peter kept on. “She hauled off and hit him! You better watch out, Caleb. Don’t ever make Libby mad!”

  Caleb grinned at her. “I can’t do that. Not make her mad, I mean. But from now on I’ll watch out.”

  “What did you say?” Peter asked.

  Palms up, Caleb waved his hands to tell him, “Not important.” Instead, Caleb pointed to the dog. The mud was drying, drawing the dog’s hair into clumps.

  Peter wore a pleased-with-himself grin. “I’m going to help people,” he announced.

  Libby took Peter’s slate from the bag over his shoulder. “Help people?” she wrote. “Dogs aren’t people!”

  Peter looked disgusted. “This dog is going to help your pa.”

  That was an even bigger puzzle for Libby. “How?”

  “Your pa needs a watchdog.”

  “What about Samson?” Libby wrote.

  “Samson is a happy dog,” Peter said quickly as though to keep peace. “He’ll push you away if there’s danger. He’ll jump in to rescue people from the water. But this dog—my dog—will make noise. All the way up the gangplank I could feel him barking.”

  Libby grinned. “He made noise, all right.” Holding her hands in front of her chest, Libby curled her fingers as if they were paws. “Yap, yap! Yap, yap, yap!”

  Peter seemed to read her lips. He understood the barking.

  “So,” Libby wrote, “this dog is supposed to help Pa?”

  Peter nodded. “I’ll train him to do that. Of course, he’ll have to help me too.”

  “Of course.” Libby glanced toward Caleb, who had swallowed his laughter. “What color is your dog?”

  When Peter didn’t answer, Caleb took the slate from Libby. “You can’t just pick up a dog and start to own it. It might belong to someone.”

  “He doesn’t,” Peter said. “This dog is an orphan.” His arms closed around the dirty creature. “I know.”

  Yes, you would, Libby thought, suddenly filled with compassion. After being an orphan himself, Peter would recognize it in a dog.

  Caleb wasn’t going to let Peter off so easily. “We need to check with the men who live here. Jordan and I will go with you. Those bullies won’t touch you if we’re around.”

  With the dog in his arms, Peter started down the gangplank. The minute his feet touched the riverbank, the three boys started toward him. When Peter saw them, he stopped and stood his ground.

  The biggest bully walked straight up to him and held a fist in front of Peter’s face. “So! The little boy is back!”

  As if he had heard the bully’s words, Peter glared at him without speaking.

  The bully motioned to his friends. “C’mon, let’s get the mutt!”

  The other boys moved close. The biggest bully leaned over Peter, scowling down at him.

  Just then Caleb and Jordan walked up. Standing behind Peter, Caleb and Jordan glared at the three bullies. Now that they were evenly matched, the bullies weren’t so eager to take on a fight. One by one, they walked away.

  A short time later, Peter returned to the boat. The front of his shirt was filthy from hugging the mutt, but his eyes glowed with the news he had for Libby. “Caleb asked questions for me. My dog is an orphan, all right. The men who work on the wharf say he’s hung around for three weeks. He lives on crusts of bread people throw him.”

  When Peter let the dog down, he ran to a deck passenger. Sitting on his haunches, the dog eyed the man’s food, wiggled his tail, and barked.

  Peter hurried over and scooped up the dog. “He’s thin now, but I’ll find the right food for him. Caleb’s grandmother will help me.”

  “What’s your dog’s name?” Libby signed.

  Peter’s eyes filled with pride. “His name is Wellington.”

  “Why do you call him that?” Libby wrote.

  “It’s the right name for such a good dog. The Duke of Wellington defeated Napoleon at the Battle of Waterloo.”

  Often Libby felt surprised by the bits of information Peter knew. Now he went on. “This dog puts up a good fight. You’ll see. He’s been fighting for life.”

  “He’s been fightin’ for his life, all right,” Jordan said. “I can recognize the signs.”

  Libby had no doubt about that either. The next time Peter let the dog down, Libby backed away so he couldn’t touch her. Even from a distance he smelled.

  When Wellington scampered off, Peter chased after him, and Libby felt relieved. “He’s naming that dirty little mutt after the Duke of Wellington?”

  Caleb glared at her. “This is serious business for Peter. Don’t make fun of him.”

  As Libby met Caleb’s eyes, she knew she had better not say another word. Though she didn’t want the dog mistreated, she wasn’t sure she could handle another dog on board. Getting used to Samson had been hard enough.

  When Peter found a large tub and a bucket, Jordan helped him draw water from the river. As soon as the tub was full, Peter lifted the dog into the water. Wellington fought against him, but Peter hung on. Sloshing water over the dog’s back and head, he rubbed him down with soap. Though Wellington yipped and whimpered, Peter kept washing him.

  Soon Peter lifted the dog from the water. Wellington was so thin that Libby caught her breath. With his wet hair plastered against his body, she could see every rib. His legs seemed to be only skin and bone.

  How long has it been since the dog had a good meal? Libby wondered.

  Caleb emptied the dirty water into the river, and Jordan filled the tub again. As Jordan went back and forth carrying water, Libby noticed a man watching him. Still thinking about the possibility of a slave catcher, Libby felt concerned. Then she realized the man was the fiddler.

  Once again Peter soaped Wellington down. By the time the water turned gray, Wellington had changed color.

  “He’s brown!” Libby exclaimed, then remembered to point to the dog’s coat so Peter would understand.

  The ten-year-old grinned. “I told you he’s a good dog.”

  “Being brown doesn’t make a dog good,” Libby spouted, then remembered to use signs.

  Smudges of mud covered Peter’s face and shirt. More smudges darkened his wet sleeves.

  With the third tub of water, Wellington changed colors again. To Libby’s amazement his coat looked brownish red.

  By now Wellington had begun responding to Peter’s love. Lifting the dog out of the final rinse water, Peter wrapped a towel around him and set him on the deck. As Peter rubbed the dog dry, Wellington crept closer to him.

  Suddenly Caleb started to laugh. “Libby, the color of Wellington’s hair is exactly the same as yours!”

  CHAPTER 4

  Shadow Man!

  Libby scowled at Caleb. She couldn’t think of anything she wanted less than hair the color of a dog’s. Especially a dog such as Wellington!

  But Caleb was already pointing to Wellington’s hair, the
n to Libby’s. When both Peter and Jordan caught on, they, too, started laughing. Libby’s face burned with embarrassment.

  “How can you, Caleb Whitney!” Libby’s auburn hair had always been a source of pride to her. Here on the deck, the sunlight brought out the deep red and gold. It also reminded Libby of the sacrifice she had made for Peter in cutting her long hair.

  In that moment he stopped laughing, as if he, too, remembered. “Libby, your hair looks really nice.”

  Surprised by his kindness, Libby blinked her eyes. When she stopped being angry, she saw that Wellington had a long, narrow head and a wiry coat. Even Libby had to admit that it was a wiry red coat.

  “I think he’s some kind of terrier,” Caleb wrote on the slate.

  “He’s a mutt!” Libby spit out.

  “My family used to have a dog like him,” said Peter, blissfully unaware of Libby’s opinion. “He always perked up his ears when I came home. Then he jumped up to welcome me.”

  Though Wellington was still wet, Peter gathered him close. Wellington snuggled his nose into the crook of Peter’s arm.

  Seeing them together, Libby felt just a bit kinder. Maybe he won’t be such a bad dog after all. Except for his size, Wellington isn’t that much different from Samson. And somehow I grew to love him. Reaching out, Libby even petted the terrier’s wet head.

  As Libby got ready for the concert that evening, she brushed her hair and felt thankful that Annika had trimmed it. Libby still missed the long, beautiful hair she had cut, but at least it looked even now. In the damp night air it even curled in a special way.

  By the time she left her room, the sun had set. When Libby started down the stairs, wisps of fog hung just above the surface of the river. As she watched, fingers of fog reached upward. Soon the small wisps gathered together, changing shape. Twisting and turning, they rose in the air.

  Uneasy now, Libby dreaded the thick fog they might once again face. Like a column of smoke, it hung in the darkness.

  Soon she entered the main cabin, the long, beautiful room that stretched from one end of the boat to the other. The tables used during meals had been pushed against the walls, and chairs were set row by row for a concert. Overhead, oil lamps glowed softly, pushing away Libby’s thoughts of fog and danger.

  Wearing white jackets, Caleb and Jordan stood along the back wall. Though they were cabin boys for Pa, both of them did much more. While Libby talked with them, the fiddler came in.

  “I think he has a secret,” Libby whispered as the man walked toward the other end of the room. “Maybe he’s a long-lost son, hiding from his family.”

  “Or maybe he made his family angry.” Caleb’s grin was full of teasing for Libby.

  Jordan laughed. “You both have too much imagination. I think he’s a son lookin’ for his family.”

  The fiddler held his violin under his arm and still wore the tattered white shirt. It bothered Libby. In spite of her uneasiness about him, she liked the way he helped the deckers after the crash. Libby didn’t want first-class passengers making fun of him.

  At the front of the room the fiddler sat down. A murmur passed through the crowd. It wasn’t hard for Libby to guess what people were saying.

  Moments later Libby saw Annika. Tonight the teacher wore a deep rose dress that brought soft color to her cheeks. She’s beautiful! Libby thought. Best of all, Annika was beautiful on the inside.

  Libby hurried forward and sat down next to her. “Let’s save a seat for Pa.” When Annika moved over, there was still an empty chair on her right, but also one on Libby’s left side, next to the aisle.

  To Libby’s dismay her Aunt Vi joined them, taking the chair on the other side of Annika. Recently Vi had come to the Christina for a visit. Though sisters, she and Libby’s mother were very different. While her mother had loved Libby unconditionally, Vi always tried to make her over.

  She still wants me to be a perfect lady, Libby thought and felt surprised that the idea no longer hurt. Only a few days before, Libby had decided she wanted to leave past hurts behind. When she forgave her aunt, Libby made a list about ways Vi had helped her.

  Now Libby leaned forward to speak across Annika. “Auntie, you taught me to like music.”

  Vi sniffed. “I taught you to like good music. Look at that man’s clothing! His trousers are baggy at the knees and his shirt downright ragged. What a disgrace!”

  Her cheeks warm with embarrassment, Libby reminded herself that she had decided to be nice to her aunt, no matter what. If I don’t answer, maybe she’ll stop talking.

  But when Pa introduced the fiddler, Vi spoke again, her voice loud enough for everyone around her to hear. “What is your father thinking of, bringing such a man into this fine group of people? Why, he might rob us before the evening is through!”

  Libby slid down in her seat, trying to hide behind Annika.

  Then Pa spoke in his strong, clear voice. “Tonight we have the privilege of offering some very fine music. I have the pleasure of presenting to you Mr. Franz Kadosa. Please welcome him with your applause.”

  Around Libby only a few people clapped, and none were enthusiastic. Libby and Annika tried to make up for the others. When Mr. Kadosa announced a sonata by Beethoven, Annika looked pleased with his choice.

  As Pa sat down next to Libby, Mr. Kadosa began to play. To Libby’s surprise he seemed a different person from the fiddler on the main deck. Instead of the strong rhythms of quick, bright folk tunes, he played formal classical music. Instead of attacking the strings, his bow drew long, sweet sounds. When he finished his first number, the applause started with Libby, Pa, and Annika, then grew around them.

  Aunt Vi gave a few halfhearted claps. In the moment of silence before the next number, she spoke across everyone to Pa. “It’s embarrassing how your violinist looks.”

  Pa frowned at Vi. “Mr. Kadosa wanted to play the way he was. I didn’t want to rob him of that dignity.” Though Pa’s voice was low, even Vi understood that his words ended the matter.

  When Mr. Kadosa announced his second choice, Libby had never heard of the composer. But Annika whispered, “Number 24! Very few violinists can play it!”

  There was no question whether Mr. Kadosa had mastered the difficult piece. The singing tones of his violin filled the large room. By the time he finished playing a Hungarian Rhapsody, the audience no longer seemed to notice his appearance. Even Aunt Vi joined in the warm applause.

  Libby felt relieved. If Pa wants to give passengers something to think about besides the fog, he has succeeded.

  Now and then Libby caught her father watching Annika. Each time she clapped for the music, Pa looked as if he had arranged the concert just for her.

  Partway through the concert, Libby noticed that something had changed. Whenever Mr. Kadosa announced a new number, he glanced around the room. At first he seemed to be making eye contact with his audience. Then Libby guessed it might be more.

  Strange, she thought when she caught a pattern in what the violinist was doing. He’s careful about it. But he watches the shadows especially—the places where a man might hide.

  The idea frightened her. I’m imagining things, she told herself. Yet in between watching Mr. Kadosa, she stole a look at her father.

  Each time Pa turned toward Libby, he could glance across the audience. Libby doubted if anyone else caught what he was doing, but she knew her father well.

  When the violinist looked toward a dark corner of the room, Libby’s father glanced the same way. In the midst of the next number, Mr. Kadosa turned slowly, making a circle, like he was used to playing with an audience behind him.

  There’s another door that way, Libby thought. Mr. Kadosa must know that.

  Soon a man appeared from a different direction. Halfway up the cabin, between the staterooms on that side, a door opened to the deck. The man stood half in and half out of the room.

  The shadows along the wall kept Libby from seeing the man’s face, but Pa kept glancing that way. During intermission Libb
y whispered to him, “What’s wrong?”

  Pa’s voice was so quiet that Libby had to lean close to hear. “I misunderstood,” he said. “I thought Mr. Kadosa was worried about his clothes. Or that he wanted to be paid.”

  Now Libby felt sure about her strange uneasiness. “The fiddler has a secret,” she whispered.

  Pa nodded. “He’s my guest. I need to protect him.”

  Again Pa glanced toward the door leading to the deck. As Libby’s gaze followed his, she saw that no one stood there now. Yet Pa seemed just as uneasy as she felt.

  “I tried to give Mr. Kadosa a stateroom, but he didn’t want it,” Pa said. “Tell Caleb and Jordan to make sure no one interferes with him. They should see that he returns to the main deck safely, then keep an eye on him.”

  While people moved about during the intermission, Libby gave Caleb and Jordan her father’s message. She decided not to return to her chair. If I’m not there, Pa can sit next to Annika.

  Soon Mr. Kadosa started playing again. Libby stood at the back of the room. At first she enjoyed the music. Then she saw that her attempt to bring Pa and Annika together had failed. Aunt Vi sat between them!

  Libby groaned. What is the matter with her?

  One guess, Libby thought. Her aunt had threatened to take Libby back to Chicago. If Pa marries Annika, Auntie can’t say I need to live with her. The idea of living with her aunt again filled Libby with dread.

  From where she stood, Libby could see the violinist even better. Everyone except Pa seemed lost in the music. Mr. Kadosa’s searching had a definite pattern now.

  Following the hands of a clock, he turned to the left, left center, straight ahead, right center, then right. With each turn he played enough measures to make his movements a natural part of what he was doing. As if dancing to his music, he turned around to the empty space behind him. Only his eyes gave him away, and only because Libby had seen how carefree he was with the deckers.

  Near the end of the concert, Mr. Kadosa no longer turned in a circle. Each time he looked up, he faced one direction. Libby glanced that way to see what was there and saw her father looking too.