Midnight Rescue

by Lois Walfrid Johnson

  As she crawled under the blankets, Zack looked up and recognized Jordan. Suddenly Zack threw himself at his brother. Jordan’s arms closed around him. As if he would hug Zack forever, Jordan swung him off the ground. Spinning around and around, Jordan laughed as though playing a game.

  But then he set Zack down. “You needs to hide.”

  When Zack disappeared beneath the blankets, Jordan glanced toward the woods.

  “Your mother?” Libby asked.

  Worry filled Jordan’s dark eyes. “She ain’t here yet.”

  Just then Hattie appeared between the trees. Her eyes wide with fear, she stood at the edge of the clearing. With little Rose in one arm and the handle of the basket over another, Hattie caught her breath.

  Then her gaze rested upon Jordan. In that instant, all tiredness and fear fell away. With a step as light as a girl’s, Hattie ran to her son.

  Directly in front of Jordan, she stopped. Her gaze clung to his face, as if she could never see enough. With one swift movement, she set down the basket and her child.

  Reaching out, Hattie placed her hands one on either side of Jordan’s face. A great sob rose from deep within. “My son! You has come back to me!”

  When she opened her arms, Jordan stepped forward. In that instant a dog barked in the distance. Hattie jerked back as though remembering where she was.

  “Hurry, Momma!” Jordan exclaimed. Lifting a blanket, he waited as Hattie slipped Rose underneath. Then he held the blanket again as Hattie followed her child. With his family well hidden, Jordan raced to the front of the wagon, climbed up, and grabbed the reins.

  “Jordan says to separate,” Caleb said quickly to Paul. “He says you’ll know when to find us.”

  Moments later the farm wagon passed onto the road. When Paul followed with his peddler’s wagon, he let his horses plod along.

  “Paul,” Libby asked as they traveled at what seemed to be a snail’s pace. “How did Jordan do that with the wagon? One minute it was broken, the next minute fixed.”

  Now that there was a moment to breathe, Paul looked as if he was enjoying himself. “Jordan’s a mighty smart young man,” he said. “He knows more about wagons than a lot of men twice his age.”

  Paul glanced back over his shoulder, and Libby turned to look behind them. So far no one followed.

  “There’s a nut on a wagon axle,” Paul said. “A big nut, about three or four inches across. The nut holds the wheel on the axle.”

  Paul grinned. “But Jordan knows wagons, or he wouldn’t know how to loosen the nut. If a wheel turns right, the nut is threaded right, so it tightens as the wheel rolls along. If a wheel turns left, the nut is threaded that way—again so it tightens as the wheel rolls. If you don’t know which way to turn the nut, you can’t get it off.”

  “But I didn’t see Jordan stop and do anything,” Libby said. “He and Caleb drove up right in front of Mr. Weaver and us. Suddenly, as they turned into the driveway—” Libby stopped to think about it.

  “The wheel came off,” Paul said. “But a short way back, probably just out of sight of the house, Jordan took off the nut. Then he drove the horses straight ahead, knowing that if the wagon didn’t turn, the wheel would stay on. But the moment the wagon turned—”

  Libby giggled. “The wheel fell off! All Jordan had to do was put it back on.”

  “And screw the nut the way it needs to go.”

  Again Paul glanced back. “Where did Jordan learn all this?” he asked as he looked forward again.

  “Jordan says his daddy taught him. Jordan says he has value because of all he knows about horses.”

  “Jordan has value all right,” Paul said. “Probably in more ways than we can begin to guess. He’s a very gifted young man. Now that he’s free, he’s going to go far in life.”

  Soon Paul had another question. “Jordan’s father?” he asked. “Where is he?”

  “Sold away from the family,” Libby said. “Jordan doesn’t have any idea where he is.”

  “I was afraid you would tell me that,” Paul answered. “I wonder if Jordan will ever see his father again.”

  Just then Libby heard the pounding hooves of horses coming up fast behind them. Paul’s hands tightened on the reins.

  CHAPTER 15

  The Fox River Outlaws

  Before long, five men on horseback appeared at Paul’s side of the wagon. As his spirited black mare danced around, Mr. Weaver told Paul to pull over.

  “We’re looking for two runaway slaves,” he said. “A boy and a girl. The dogs lost their scent in the middle of the road, so they might have crawled into your wagon.”

  “That so?” Paul asked.

  Just two runaways? Libby wondered. So Mr. Weaver doesn’t know about Hattie and little Rose. Or maybe he knows more than he’s telling.

  “I’m going to check out your wagon,” Mr. Weaver said as though he had no thought of asking permission. But Paul didn’t ask him for a search warrant.

  “If you’re careful, you may look,” he said instead. “I don’t want any of my dishes broken.”

  As two men stood watch along the road, Mr. Weaver and the other two swung down from their horses. A short distance away their dogs waited. Panting and with tongues hanging out, they looked eager to be off on the chase.

  They’re bloodhounds, Libby reminded herself. Much as she wanted to push away her memory of the dogs chasing Zack and Serena, she couldn’t. They’re bloodhounds trained to track down fugitive slaves.

  Paul climbed down so slowly that Libby found it hard to believe how fast he had run. Walking around to the end of the wagon, he opened the doors.

  When one of the dogs leaped forward to sniff the back of the wagon, Paul warned Mr. Weaver. “If you let him scare my horses, I won’t come to your farm again.”

  Mr. Weaver called off the dog, but two men climbed into the wagon instead. Turning, Libby watched them rummage around in the open area between where she sat and the back door.

  Again Paul warned the men. “Careful now, careful. You won’t gain anything by breaking my goods.”

  As though suspecting Paul’s attempts to protect his property, Mr. Weaver glared at him. Whenever the men came to a box large enough for a child to hide in, they opened it. After checking even the drawers of the wagon, the men finally had to admit defeat.

  “Now, gentlemen,” Paul said when they finished searching. “Would you kindly set the boxes back the way they were? I don’t want anything tossed around on these rough roads.”

  A cloud as angry as the gray sky spread across Mr. Weaver’s face. Clearly he was anxious to be off. Just the same, Paul waited, and Mr. Weaver told the men to straighten out the mess.

  As they pushed the boxes back into place, Libby watched Paul. Looking calm and patient, he waited as though he had no hurry to be off. He’s giving Jordan all the time he can, Libby thought.

  A large raindrop splatted on Libby’s arm. A moment later more drops wet the dirt road, filling Libby with hope. Maybe, just maybe—A good rain would help Jordan and Caleb get away. But a minute later the rain stopped, and the clouds moved around them.

  When all the boxes were in place, Mr. Weaver finally said, “If my slaves aren’t with you, they’re with that young man whose wheel rolled off. It won’t be hard to find him.”

  From his spirited black mare, Mr. Weaver looked down at the peddler. “Good day, Paul. We can’t be too careful, you know.”

  Paul seemed to agree. “You’re right, Mr. Weaver. We can’t be too careful.”

  “What do we do now?” Libby asked as the men and their dogs disappeared in the distance. She felt shaky just thinking about how close Serena and Zack had come to being caught.

  “I’m going to let Caleb and Jordan find me,” Paul said. “Now that I’ve been searched, it would be a good time for them to take my wagon.”

  In contrast to the way Libby felt, Paul looked as calm as if he faced narrow escapes every day of his life. Maybe he does, Libby thought.

  They had
driven an hour when she saw a farm wagon swing out of the woods into the road. “They’re behind us, Paul,” Libby said.

  At the next place where he could leave the road, Paul turned the horses off between the trees. Caleb and Jordan followed him.

  “Do you want my wagon?” Paul asked Jordan when the leaves of the trees hid all of them from the road. “We’ve already been searched. You and your family could ride inside.”

  To Libby’s surprise Jordan looked uncertain. “I ain’t sure,” he said. “It seems like we is supposed to walk. But it don’t make sense. It such a long way for Momma and Serena and little Rose.”

  Then, as if feeling he had no choice, Jordan nodded. “My family and I thanks you.” As Jordan’s family slipped into the back of the peddler’s wagon, Paul stepped down from the front.

  “Keep a sharp watch on the horses,” he said as Caleb climbed up to the seat next to Libby. “Don’t forget the Fox River outlaws. They’re always looking to steal a good team and whatever else they can find. The closer you get to the Iowa border, the more apt you’ll be to run into trouble.”

  Somewhere Caleb had changed his suit for an old coat and pants. Now Paul swept the black hat off his head and onto Caleb’s.

  Libby stared. Until Paul ran down the road she had thought of him as an old man. Without the hat, he seemed only a bit older than Pa. Not really old, but more the age of Caleb’s grandmother.

  With his blond hair covered and the old clothes, Caleb looked like a different person from the young man who stopped at the farm. “I’ll leave your wagon at the next station,” he told Paul, and Libby knew Caleb was talking about a home where the owners sheltered runaway slaves.

  “If you get that far,” Paul answered quietly. “God keep all of you.”

  His last farewell was to Libby. “Tell your pa he raised a mighty brave daughter.”

  As Caleb called “Giddyup!” to the horses, Libby caught his quick glance in her direction. But she could not meet his gaze. In spite of what Paul said, she didn’t feel even one bit brave. Instead, she was scared about all that could still happen.

  When they reached the edge of the woods, Caleb waited inside the line of trees until he was sure the road was clear. Soon the horses turned north and settled into a trot.

  Although she wanted to ask at least one hundred questions, Libby found it hard to be with Caleb again. Their argument about the newspaper reporter had started the problem. But for Libby it was more. Caleb hadn’t wanted her along. He knew how she had failed and didn’t trust her to help Jordan’s family.

  At the farm this morning, Caleb seemed to encourage me, Libby tried to tell herself. Then she pushed the memory away. That was just part of his act.

  Two weeks ago she would have liked being with Caleb. Now she felt awkward and uncomfortable. With her back as straight as an arrow, Libby stared ahead.

  Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Caleb glance her way again. But Libby remained silent so long that Caleb finally asked, “Cat got your tongue?”

  Only then did Libby know where to start. “Yesterday—last night—when you couldn’t get to the farm. What happened?” As though she were still living that nightmare, Libby felt her dread during that time of waiting.

  “Remember the Stillwater prisoner?” Caleb asked.

  “How could I forget?” Yet so much had happened that even Sam McGrady seemed miles and years away.

  “He followed us out of Keokuk. Three times we thought we had gotten away. Three times we saw him following us again. It was like he knew where we were going.”

  “That’s why it took you so long?”

  “We couldn’t let him capture Jordan, and we couldn’t let him follow us to the farm. We had to keep taking the long way around. There’s something about a thief—”

  Libby waited as Caleb thought about how to explain. At last he said, “A thief knows how to hide out. Maybe that made it easier for him to guess what we were doing to get away from him.”

  Caleb grinned at Libby. “Sam McGrady is a smart thief. But we’re smarter.”

  Listening to Caleb, even Libby’s dread of the prisoner fell away. She was just starting to feel better when Jordan leaned forward to talk in Caleb’s ear.

  “We needs to stop and find a hiding place.”

  When they came to a trail leading off the road, Caleb directed the horses into the woods. The wide dirt path wound through gently rolling hills. In the middle of a clearing they found the ruins of what appeared to be a log house that had burned down. To one side was a tinroofed barn.

  Jordan jumped out of the wagon to inspect the barn. Soon he returned and led Caleb around to the back. When Jordan pulled open a large double door, Caleb drove inside. Jordan closed the doors behind them.

  They had come into the large open area where a farmer brought in a hay wagon. By standing on the wagon, a man could fork hay up into the loft on either side.

  While Jordan stood watch, his family stayed inside the peddler’s wagon. Caleb walked back to the road to make sure no wheel marks would give them away.

  The trail is dry, Libby thought, feeling grateful that rain hadn’t turned it into mud.

  When Caleb returned, Jordan told his family that it was safe. Serena and Zack scrambled down from the back of the wagon. Hattie handed little Rose to Serena. As Jordan’s mother climbed down, her hand rested on her younger son’s shoulder.

  “You is still with me, Zack!” The glory light shone in Hattie’s eyes. “You is still with me!”

  Glad to stretch their legs, Serena, Zack, and little Rose moved around in the large open area next to the wagon. For a time Libby stood watch, peering through a window on one end of the barn. At the other end, Caleb kept a lookout in a different direction.

  When it came time for Libby to rest, she climbed a wooden ladder to the loft. Hattie and her younger children were already there. In the shadows along one wall they lay on a mound of hay, fast asleep.

  Sinking down into another soft mound, Libby stared up at the wooden pegs holding the posts of the barn in place. Still thinking about all that had happened, she drifted off to sleep.

  Libby’s first waking thoughts were the sounds of spring. From a nearby pond peeped a chorus of frogs. Then Libby remembered she was hungry and thirsty.

  When she looked over the edge of the loft, she saw Jordan try to pick up little Rose. Her eyes wide, Rose backed away from him.

  Sitting down on the dirt floor of the barn, Jordan started talking to her. Instead of jabbering back, she hid behind her mother as if Jordan were a stranger.

  Hattie tried to help the little girl understand. “Jordan be your brother, Rose, just like Zack be your brother.”

  But Rose would have nothing to do with Jordan. Each time he looked her way, she seemed afraid.

  “She be good soon,” Hattie told her son. “She were just too young when you was sold away. She don’t remember you.”

  Soon Hattie took the cloth off the large basket of food and started feeding her children. As Libby climbed down from the loft, she felt curious about Hattie’s escape.

  “Do you think Mrs. Weaver knew she was helping you run away?” Libby asked.

  “I ’spect she didn’t want me to see my Zack being sold away,” Hattie answered. Every now and then she glanced over to Zack and Jordan. Each time she looked at her sons, a smile lit her brown eyes.

  As soon as Jordan finished eating, he started playing peek-a-boo with Rose. When the little girl giggled, her momma said, “Shush!” But Jordan looked pleased.

  Taking out pieces of cloth, Hattie began dividing the food in her basket. Soon Hattie had bags for herself and Serena and Zack to carry on their back.

  When Libby saw what Hattie was doing, she went to the wagon. From the food Paul had given her, she divided three portions—one for Caleb, another for Jordan, and a third for herself. Following Hattie’s example, she too tied the cloth into bags.

  On the very bottom of Hattie’s large basket was a small cloth bag filled with somethi
ng soft. When Hattie carefully packed it into a larger bag she could carry, it made Libby curious. But when Hattie said nothing, Libby felt afraid to ask.

  By now the last rays of the western sun reached through a window. The light turned Libby’s hair red-gold. To her surprise, Hattie noticed.

  “Your hair is sure enough goin’ to cause trouble,” she warned.

  Melanie, Libby thought. Melanie talking to her pa. But Libby pushed the thought away, not wanting to remember.

  In the darkness before the moon came up, they gathered their few belongings and climbed into the wagon. With Libby on the front seat again, Caleb gave her the reins. Standing on the ground, he spoke into the closed-in part of the wagon.

  “Ready?” he asked quietly.

  “We is ready.”

  The sound of Jordan’s voice startled Libby, for it came from only a foot or two behind her. Yet when Libby looked back, all was in darkness. She spotted no movement and heard no sound. Even little Rose was so quiet that Libby wouldn’t have known she was there.

  “We’ll soon be close to the border between Iowa and Missouri,” Caleb warned before he opened the barn doors, then closed them again behind the wagon. Walking without sound, he led the horses back along the winding trail. Before entering the road, he climbed up beside Libby and took the reins.

  When the horses moved out, Libby stared straight ahead into the darkness. The rain that had threatened off and on all day had gone around them. Far above, the stars and moon shone brightly, lighting the road. As they passed a farm, the scent of pear blossoms reached Libby, but the beauty of spring was lost on her.

  Several miles down the road, the horses rounded a sharp bend. Just ahead, a midsized tree lay across the road.

  “Uh-oh!” Caleb pulled back on the reins.

  As their wagon rolled to a stop, two men leaped out, one from either side of the road.

  Then Libby saw it—the glint of metal. One gun poked in Caleb’s face. Then in the moonlight Libby stared down the barrel of another. When she saw the man holding the gun, her teeth started to chatter.