Midnight Rescue (20 page)

Melanie hurried forward to join her father. “Of course it’s not you, Daddy.”

Leaning close, Melanie stared at how Libby had drawn her. “That’s not how I look!”

Melanie’s creamy white skin flushed an angry red. “If I were an artist, I’d do great things to your red hair!”

Uh-oh!
Libby thought
. If her father forgets how I look, she’ll help him remember.

Still holding Randolph, Mrs. Weaver started toward Libby. But Jonathan went in the opposite direction, disappearing around the corner of the house.

Just then Paul motioned to Libby as though saying, “Come.”

But Mr. Weaver wasn’t done yet. “I will
not
pay for such a terrible picture!”

When Mrs. Weaver reached the easel, she looked down, studying the drawing. Again Paul motioned to Libby. “Come!”

With one quick movement Libby snatched the paper from the easel. Mr. Weaver stretched out his hand, but Mrs. Weaver was quicker. Stepping in front of her husband, she took the drawing from Libby.

“I hope you will accept my bracelet as payment for this drawing also,” she said.

Libby nodded. In all the times she had dreamed about being an artist, she had never imagined something this awful. Holding back her tears, she picked up her pencils and the easel. “Thank you for letting me try,” she said. “Thank you for giving me your time.”

As Libby hurried toward Paul, Mr. Weaver’s words haunted her. But then, like a gentle whisper, there was something Libby knew.
Facing something hard isn’t the same as failing. I succeeded in giving Jordan time!

Near the wagon Mrs. Weaver caught up to Libby. “You will be a fine artist someday,” she said. A smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. “That is, if you aren’t so honest.”

The moment Libby climbed up to the high seat, Paul called out, “Giddyup!” Libby waved and called goodbye, but Mrs. Weaver’s smile was already gone. Pain filled her eyes.

Soon Paul’s horses turned into the main road in the direction Jordan had taken. While still in view of the farmhouse, Paul kept his horses at their usual pace.

“Where is Jordan’s family?” Libby asked.

“You’ll see,” Paul answered.

Instead, Libby saw Jonathan racing across the field toward the woods. In spite of his weight, he ran like a deer, bounding over the young corn.

“Look!” Libby told Paul. “Jonathan’s headed this way.”

The peddler’s face was grim. “I hope we can trust him.”

The moment the road passed into the woods, Paul looked back to be sure they couldn’t be seen from the house. Then he slapped the reins across the backs of his horses. Instantly they picked up their pace.

Just then Libby heard the clip-clop of horses coming toward them on the road ahead. Soon two horses and a shiny new wagon came into view. As if anxious about more than the gathering storm, the driver urged his horses on.

Not far from the creek, Paul slowed his team to avoid meeting on the bridge. Without changing his speed, the other man kept coming. Before long, the two wagons met with Paul going north, the other man south.

“That’s him,” Paul said.

“Zack’s new owner?” Libby asked.

“No doubt about it.”

Twisting around to look back, Libby crawled onto her knees. Through the small square opening in the back of Paul’s wagon, she watched the other wagon raise a cloud of dust, then disappear.

Soon after the peddler’s wagon passed over the bridge, Libby saw Serena and Zack crawl out from under the heavy timbers. On the far side of the creek, they climbed the bank of earth next to the bridge.

“There they are!” Libby exclaimed. “They used Jonathan’s hiding place!”

“Whoa!” Paul called to his horses.

The minute the wagon stopped, Libby started to climb down, but Paul told her to wait. “There’s more danger than you know.”

Throwing the reins into Libby’s hands, he grabbed a stout stick. “Hold the horses. Don’t get down.” Breaking into a run, Paul headed back along the road. “Zack! Serena!” he called.

As the children crossed the bridge, Jonathan came out of the trees on the far side of the creek. With one look Jonathan changed direction, heading toward the other children. “Go, Zack!” he cried. “Hurry! Pa called out the dogs!”

Through the woods Libby heard their mournful baying—half bark and half howl. Running for their lives, Serena and Zack raced along the road toward Paul.

Jonathan ran after them, still shouting after Zack. “If you’re free, you can go fishing!”

For only a moment, Zack looked back. “When I catches that big fish, I is goin’ to tell him about you!”

As Zack and Serena raced toward Paul’s wagon, Jonathan
whirled around, running back the way he came. Closer and closer came the baying of the dogs. A chill ran down Libby’s spine.

Then, where the trees thinned out, Libby saw the lead dog. At the head of the pack, he ran with his nose to the ground, picking up the scent. In a sharp voice Jonathan shouted a command.

Suddenly the bloodhound stopped. Again Jonathan gave the command. Reaching down, he grabbed the rope around the dog’s neck.

When the other dogs started to catch up, Jonathan called to them. Though they looked confused, the dogs obeyed. As they gathered around the lead dog, their baying turned to whines.

In that instant Zack slowed down and glanced back. With Jonathan holding the lead dog, Zack waved to him. Only then did Libby recognize the bloodhound. Jonathan’s pet!

Then Zack bounded on, following Serena. “Come with me,” Paul said as they reached him. Moments later he shut them into the back of his wagon.

With one leap, Paul climbed to the high front seat. Slapping the reins, he shouted at the horses. “Giddyup!”

Within a few minutes they reached the place where Paul and Libby had waited the afternoon before. Slowing the horses, Paul turned off the road into the woods. In the middle of the clearing, Caleb and Jordan were waiting for them.

The moment Paul stopped, Caleb opened the back door of the peddler’s wagon. Zack and Serena jumped down and raced for the farm wagon. Between the large trunk and the carpetbags lay a number of blankets. Standing near the back end,
Jordan helped Serena into the wagon.

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

B
efore 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.