The Fiddler's Secret (11 page)

“I want a place where my momma and my daddy and my sisters and my brother can live safe and free. If we have to be cold, we'll be cold, but will we be free?”

Mr. Thompson met Jordan's gaze straight on. “Living in Minnesota Territory is like living anywhere. If you let yourself be free, you will be.”

That's a strange answer
, Libby thought. She felt sure Mr. Thompson wasn't telling Jordan to do whatever he pleased.
What does he mean?

“Are you free to live?” Mr. Thompson asked.

Jordan nodded. “Free to earn my own way. Free to read and write.”

“Free to vote?”

Jordan drew himself up. “Now you're makin' fun of me. There isn't any colored man who votes.”

Mr. Thompson smiled. “Not yet, but that's part of what the problem in St. Paul is about. The Democrats and Republicans are supposed to be writing a state constitution together. Instead, they're so upset with each other, they're meeting in separate conventions. The new Republican Party wants to give us colored men the right to vote.”

Jordan stepped back, staring. “Mr. Thompson, I don't want to be disrespectful like. But are you telling me the truth?”

“I'm telling you, those Republicans in St. Paul are working
on it. I don't know if they'll get it. If they don't come to a compromise with the Democrats, Minnesota Territory won't become a state.”

Jordan shook his head, still not believing. “Mr. Thompson, five months ago I ran away from my master. Five months ago these friends of mine started teachin' me to read and write.”

Jordan glanced toward Caleb and Libby. “And five months ago I earned my first nickel. You look like an honest man, Mr. Thompson, but havin' the right to vote is mighty hard to believe.”

Mr. Thompson's smile reached his eyes. “Jordan, when I offered my hand, you took it. Were you trusting me then?”

As Jordan nodded, his gaze clung to the man's face.

Again Mr. Thompson offered his hand. Without blinking, Jordan met it with his. A wide grin spread across his face.

“What's your daddy good at?” Mr. Thompson asked.

“He's the best man with horses you'll ever find.” Jordan's voice was sure and strong. “People say, ‘Why, that Micah Parker, there ain't a horse alive that he can't ride. There ain't a horse
anywhere
that he can't train.' And they're right!”

“If you want to bring your family here, look for work,” Mr. Thompson said. “A number of our people work at the Winslow House.”

“In St. Paul?” Jordan asked.

“There are two hotels called the Winslow House. One in St. Paul, and one about ten miles from here in St. Anthony. That's the hotel I'm talking about. Some of the people who work there live at Fort Snelling. Others live in the basement of the hotel till they build their own houses.”

“Build their own houses?” Jordan's voice was filled with awe.

“And, Jordan, there are seven colored families starting a church.”

Jordan straightened in the tall, proud look that reminded Libby of royalty. “My momma and my daddy, my sister Serena, my brother, Zack, my little sister Rose, and me—” Excitement filled Jordan's eyes and face. “We could be the eighth family!”

“Hope to see you sometime,” Mr. Thompson said as he started back up the ladder. “Till then, let yourself be free.”

Again Libby wondered what he meant. But as they left Mr. Thompson, Jordan said, “I just got a taste of freedom that makes me want to do my best in everything!”

When Libby and the boys returned to the
Christina
, they found the fiddler waiting for them.

“I think the pawnshop will be open by now,” Caleb told him. “The thief might go there. It's a good place to get rid of something stolen.”

Peter decided to stay behind. “I need to help your pa,” he told Libby. “He said I could be his cabin boy.” Peter made it sound so important that Libby felt curious.

As they set out, Caleb explained to Franz and Jordan that a pawnshop was a place where people borrowed money. If a man needed a loan, the pawnbroker would give that man the money in exchange for something to prove he'd pay the pawnbroker back.

“If I had a watch,” Caleb said, “I'd give it to him. But the pawnbroker wouldn't give me what it's worth. He would also charge high interest. If I couldn't pay up, I wouldn't get my watch back.”

“I know what you mean,” Jordan said. “A thief sells something
for less than it's worth. But he makes enough money to keep on stealin'.”

Caleb grinned. “You got it!”

As they entered the shop, a bell on the door jangled. The pawnshop was a large, dimly lit room with two closed doors along one side. On the opposite side was a rack of coats. Nearby, a glass case held watches and jewelry. The back half of the room was closed off to customers by a wall that looked like a metal cage.

When a short, thin man came out from behind the cage, Libby stared at him. With his hair slicked down and his collar high, the man seemed to have no neck.

Trying to think why he seemed familiar, Libby stepped back while Caleb asked questions. Like Libby, Franz looked around, and Jordan stared through the cage-like wall.

“A man trying to sell a fiddle stopped by just a few minutes ago,” the pawnbroker said in answer to Caleb's questions. “He didn't think I offered him enough money, so he left.”

“What did the man look like?” Libby asked quickly.

“Tall. Blue eyes. Blond hair like his.” The man tipped his head toward Caleb.

Glancing beyond him, the pawnbroker caught sight of Jordan. Suddenly Jordan stepped back.
Why
? Libby wondered.
Did he recognize the man?

In that instant Jordan and the man stared at one another. And Libby knew who the pawnbroker was.

The man on the
Christina's
main deck. The man who threatened Jordan! The man who knows Jordan is Micah Parker's son!

CHAPTER 9

W
ithin three seconds Jordan was out the door. As Caleb, Franz, and Libby started out for the levee, she took one quick look around to be sure no one else could hear. Then the anger in her heart broke through. “When he was on the
Christina
, the pawnbroker told Jordan that he knows Riggs. But we don't know where Riggs is.”

Of one thing Libby felt sure. “And now that pawnbroker said the man who brought the violin to him is tall. Blue eyes. Blond hair like Caleb's. But can we trust that description?”

More upset by the moment, Libby spit out her words. “That man—that pawnbroker—is evil all the way through. I'm sure he would do
anything
someone asks him! Even if it's really wrong!”

“You might be right, Libby,” Caleb said. “He sure doesn't look like someone I'd want to meet in a dark alley.”

A few steps farther on, Franz stopped in his tracks. “Why did Jordan run away from the pawnshop?” he asked.

As if wondering how much to tell, Caleb seemed to think about it. Finally he said, “We don't trust the pawnbroker.”

“Because Jordan is a fugitive?” the fiddler asked.

Caleb was in a spot now. Libby knew Caleb wouldn't lie,
but what could he say? What could he do about the fugitive slave laws? Even on free soil such as Minnesota Territory, slave catchers had the legal right to gather a group of men, arrest a runaway, and bring him back to his owner.

The fiddler studied Caleb's face. “You are afraid to tell me? Don't you think I know that Jordan is a runaway slave?”

Still Caleb didn't answer. A moment later they passed an opening between buildings. As if he had been waiting for them to come by, Jordan stepped out.

Franz looked from Caleb to Libby to Jordan. “We don't have your kind of slaves in my country,” the fiddler said. “But we have another kind of person held in bondage. I will protect you, Jordan, the way you protected me on the
Christina
.”

Your country, Franz
, Libby wondered.
Where is it?

Before she could ask, Jordan drew a deep breath of relief and offered his thanks.

Caleb said more. “Is there any other way we can help you?”

As though a mask had slipped down over the fiddler's face, he shook his head. “If you find my violin, it is gut. I will be grateful forever.”

He's afraid again
, Libby thought.
He's trying to say we can trust him. At the same time, he doesn't trust us. I wonder why?

Libby felt sure it had something to do with Shadow Man. Since the concert, Libby had kept looking for the man in the long black coat. Because his hat shadowed his face, Libby wondered if she would ever recognize him. But she wanted to cry out to Franz.
Caleb, and Jordan, and Peter, and Pa, and me. We're different! You can trust us!

Knowing that, Libby felt the warmth of having a family that gathered together, caring about her. Caring about people
like Jordan and his family and the others who came for shelter on the
Christina
.

Then, remembering all that had happened, Libby suddenly thought about the people she
couldn't
trust.

My head feels tired
, she thought.
Confused. How can I sort it all out?

Again Libby thought about the three men who had been on the
Christina
—the three men who frightened her. The three suspects.

One
. Libby said to herself.
Shadow Man
. The tall man in a black overcoat at the concert in the main cabin.

Two
. The short, thin man with the high collar. The man on the main deck who said he knew Jordan's owner, Riggs. The man they now knew as the pawnbroker. Jordan saw him and fled.

Three
. The tall man on the first-class passenger deck.
The man with cruel lines around his mouth. The man whose face I drew. The man who wanted that drawing. Who probably searched my room. Mr. Trouble
.

Then Libby had still another puzzling thought. To make matters worse, who was the person looking in the window of Pa's cabin when they had school?