Midnight Rescue (15 page)

Libby stared at the owner’s name on the bottom of the
poster. “Jordan knew something was wrong. Something worse than usual, I mean.”

Tears rose in Libby’s throat. Unable to face the poster, she turned away. When she climbed back into the wagon, her tears spilled over and ran down her cheeks.

“What if Jordan’s family is sold before he gets there?” Libby asked as Paul drove on. “Jordan will never find them again!”

“Would they go with us if we get there in time?”

“I doubt it,” Libby answered. “Jordan said his mother won’t trust just anyone. She’s heard too many stories about runaway slaves who get caught. She and Jordan have an agreement between them that he’ll come back to help her.”

“Maybe Jordan and Caleb are ahead of us now.” Paul clucked to the horses and slapped the reins across their backs.

After a time Paul slowed the horses. “We’re almost there,” he said.

Looking ahead, Libby saw a creek. Before reaching it, Paul turned the horses off the road. In a wide space between trees, he drove into the woods. When he stopped, Libby could still see the road, but they were somewhat hidden from whoever might drive by.

Unhitching the horses, Paul led them down to water. As they drank, he took out a pocket watch. “We’re right on time, and this is where we’re supposed to meet.”

When the horses finished drinking, he led them to a place where they could graze.

Libby climbed down from the wagon and sat with her back against the trunk of a tree. As an hour slipped away, Libby grew more and more anxious.
Where are you, Caleb?
she wanted to cry out.
Has something happened to you and Jordan?

The questions kept going around and around in her mind. In her mind’s eye she could still see the man Jordan rescued from the water. The man Libby believed to be the Stillwater prisoner. With each passing minute she felt more upset.
It’s my fault. I should have found Caleb and Jordan. I should have warned them
. It did little good to tell herself that she had done her best.

Then Libby realized what she was doing—slipping into her old way of thinking. She remembered Gran’s words.
“Being a Christian doesn’t mean that all your problems are gone. It means that you have Jesus to help you in everything you face.”

Opening the bag she carried on her back, Libby took out her drawing paper and pencils. Under the trees were the waxy white flowers Paul called May apples, and Libby sketched them quickly.

A short distance away, where the sun shone between the trees, Libby found violets.

“Don’t go too far,” Paul called to her. “The Fox River outlaws hide out around here.”

“The Fox River
outlaws
?”

“Bands of thieves. They’ve got a lot of good hiding places in these woods. That’s why I keep a close watch on the horses. There have been so many horses stolen in this area that a man by the name of David McKee finally said ‘Enough is enough!’ He formed the Anti-Horse Thief Association.”

“So now, in the midst of an impossible rescue, we have to watch out for horse thieves?”

Paul grinned. “Don’t you worry. We’ll make it through.”

By the time Libby finished drawing the violets, she found that even Paul had grown restless. “Caleb and Jordan are over two hours late,” he said.

By now it was almost three o’clock. When Paul took food from the wagon, Libby unwrapped one of the sandwiches Gran had given her. Libby felt sure the bread and cheese were as good as usual. But Libby’s scared feelings turned the sandwich into something dry and tasteless.

As they finished eating, she heard a splashing sound from the creek. Moments later a boy of about eight appeared. Over his shoulder he carried a fishing pole with one small fish on the line.

“Jonathan!” Paul exclaimed. “How are you doing?”

The boy grinned at him. “So you’re back. I thought it was time. My ma and sis will be right glad to see you. All winter long they’ve been making lists of what to buy.”

“I expect so,” Paul said. But he did not move from the stump where he sat.

“What are you waiting for?” Jonathan asked. Walking around the wagon, he peered at every side, though Paul had opened only one of the doors.

“I wish Zack was here to see you,” Jonathan said as he finished his inspection of the wagon.

“Zack?” Paul asked. According to Jordan, Zack was about eight years old.

“Me and Zack have a secret meeting place,” Jonathan answered. “He’s an honorary member of my club—the only boy I know who doesn’t tell me I’m fat.”

When Paul’s gaze met Libby’s, she guessed what he was thinking.
Zack isn’t sold yet
.

A shadow passed over Jonathan’s face. “Pa says Zack is old enough to work in the fields now. All day long he’s hoeing corn and carrying water. It ain’t any fun when he’s not here.”

Jonathan leaned his pole against a tree and sat down. “No more fishing for Zack, except on Sundays. Ma says Sundays is meant for boys to sit quiet and still. But Zack’s ma lets him fish as soon as he comes from church. She says it’s the only day of the week Zack can fish, and the good Lord made fishing for boys.”

Soon Jonathan looked restless again. “Yesterday Pa said he needs to see you, Mr. Martin. Needs some new tools, I guess. I’ll run tell him you’re here.” Standing up, Jonathan grabbed his pole and was off.

“No, wait,” Paul called after him. “We’ll rest a bit more and come later.”

But Jonathan was already headed for the road and the bridge across the creek. Before he slipped out of sight, he called to them. “I’m the fastest runner there is!”

“What do we do now?” Libby asked, the dread within her growing.

“We’ll water our horses as long as we possibly can,” Paul said. “But I wish Caleb would come. There are a lot of slave catchers who know what he’s up to.”

“Along the Iowa border?” Libby asked.

“In that whole area he has to cross,” Paul told her. “Caleb is one of our best conductors. He’s had to take a lot of risks and hasn’t lost a passenger yet. But today I keep thinking about his grandmother.”

Gran
. She too knew the risks for Caleb. What would happen to Caleb if he was caught? But for Jordan it would be even worse.
If he’s sent back to that cruel slave trader who owns him, Jordan will lose more than his freedom. Riggs might even beat him to death.

And Jordan’s family. What would happen to them?

Much sooner than Paul and Libby wanted, Jonathan was back, shouting at them from across the creek.

“Pa says to come right away. He needs to see you now. Says he has to talk with a big important man tomorrow.”

CHAPTER 11

T
urning, Jonathan headed back into the trees. His legs flew, as though he wanted to see the excitement when Paul arrived. But the peddler took his time about hitching up his horses.

Soon after Libby and Paul returned to the road, the horses brought them to a bridge made from heavy logs thrown down across the creek. As they passed beyond the wooded area, Libby looked across an open field. A tall, stately home stood on a rise.

“What a beautiful house!” Libby exclaimed.

The main part of the house was built of red brick. The front porch had tall white pillars that extended upward to another porch on the second floor. On this side of the house and toward the back were two more even larger upper and lower porches. An open stairway led between them.

“Better put on your thinking cap,” Paul told Libby as they continued toward the driveway. “If Caleb and Jordan don’t get here soon, we need lots of reasons for staying around.”

But Libby was still studying the lay of the land. On the south side of the long driveway was a tin-roofed barn and smaller outbuildings. Between those buildings and the field behind the house were what Paul said were slave cabins. Built
of logs, they looked as though they had one tiny room. Seeing the cabins, Libby started to wonder about the dogs owned by the Weaver family.

It didn’t take long to find them. The moment Paul turned into the driveway, the dogs began barking. Yipping and jumping up, they raced out to meet the peddler’s wagon. With their long droopy ears and wrinkled faces, they reminded Libby of worried old men.

Then she remembered.
They’re not like Samson. They’re not just family pets. Those dogs are bloodhounds trained to track down runaway slaves.

Paying no attention to the dogs, Paul wrapped the reins around a post on the wagon. Taking out a flute, he played a cheerful song meant to draw everyone who heard.

In the field behind the house, two Negro men lifted their heads. Resting their hands on their hoes, they listened. On the shaded front porch, a blond girl about Libby’s age jumped up.

Paul called to her. “Tell your mother!”

At the side door of the house, Jonathan stood waiting. To Libby’s surprise one of the bloodhounds ran up to him. When Jonathan reached down to pet him, the dog waited for a scratch behind his ears.

The minute Jonathan saw Libby, he waved as if the two were old friends. But Jordan’s brother, Zack, was not with him.

Where is he?
Libby wondered, wanting to make sure Zack truly was still around. She saw no one who looked like an eight-year-old Jordan. Then Libby remembered. Zack would be working in the fields all day.

Outside the white picket fence that surrounded the house, Paul called, “Whoa!” From every direction people gathered
around. Young and old, black and white, they all seemed curious about the peddler’s wagon.

Soon a Negro woman came through the opening in the picket fence. Tall and slender, she wore a white apron as if she worked in the house.
Could that be Jordan’s mother, Hattie?
Close behind was a girl who looked just a bit younger than Libby.
Eleven-year-old Serena
, Libby decided.

From the direction of the slave cabins ran a string of children, followed by the old woman who cared for them. Serena stopped and waited, then picked up one of the children. The little girl had pigtails sticking out all over her head and seemed about fifteen months old. Libby felt sure she was Jordan’s youngest sister, Rose.

As Libby watched, Rose threw her arms around Serena’s neck. Serena hugged the little girl to herself. More than once Serena whispered something in her ear. When Rose giggled, Serena giggled too.

Is that what it means to have a sister?
Libby wondered.
No wonder Jordan wants to rescue his family!

To Libby’s surprise Paul climbed down from the wagon slowly, as if his aging bones hurt. Even in the way Paul opened his wagon, he took his time.

Then Libby remembered.
He’s giving Caleb and Jordan every minute he can
. In her thoughts she wished she could hurry them on.
Where are you?
she wanted to cry out.

On one side of the wagon, Paul folded down a shelf. On that he put his most valuable items—glassware, china dishes, and patent medicines in their thick glass bottles. Next to that he set a jar of hard candy.

From the back of the wagon, he took out long pieces of
cloth, pots and pans, everything that would appeal to a woman. When he set those on another shelf where they could be easily viewed, the eager children and grown-ups gathered close.