The Fiddler's Secret (26 page)

Soon she heard Wellington sniffing his way toward her. When the terrier found her, Libby hugged him and slipped him a treat. “Good dog! Good dog!”

Peter's eyes shone. Again and again he asked Libby to hide. He wanted to be sure Wellington remembered the secret sign.

If only we could have Wellington find Annika
, Libby thought.

Each day Pa, Libby, Caleb, Peter, and Gran had prayed together for Annika. On the third morning after returning to St. Paul, they again gathered around the breakfast table. Pa needed to talk.

“Annika was so sure God wanted her in St. Paul this winter,” he said. “Because she believed that, I don't think she'd leave. She has to be here. But if she is, why can't we find her?”

Not even Gran had an answer, and Pa went on. “My greatest dread is that something happened to her. If she became sick, we wouldn't even know who took care of her.”

After they once again prayed for Annika, Caleb spoke up. “I'd like to go into St. Paul with you today.”

Pa looked grateful. “Thanks, Caleb. I could use your help.”

When they returned home that evening, Caleb looked so excited that Libby thought they had found Annika. But he only said, “I got work at the
Pioneer and Democrat
office today.”

“The St. Paul newspaper?”

“One of them.”

“Really? They took you on as a writer?”

“Oh no!” Caleb exclaimed. “In these hard times I couldn't possibly get a job as a reporter. Besides, people think I'm too young. But I did get a job emptying trash and sweeping floors one or two hours a day.”

Libby felt curious. “How is that going to help you be a better writer?”

Caleb grinned. “I'll get in on the ground floor.”

Then he grew serious. “As I sweep floors I'll listen. I'll see what reporters and editors are doing. I'll learn from them. Maybe sometime I'll get the chance to write something.”

Later Libby and Caleb went out on deck, and Caleb said more. “What your pa is trying to do is really hard, you know. Thousands of immigrants passed through St. Paul this summer.”

“It scares me, Caleb,” Libby said.

“At the beginning of the panic, there must have been ten thousand people in the city. Unless someone stays with a group of people who know each other well, a person like Annika can drop out of sight.”

Right down to her toes Libby felt frightened just thinking about Pa's loss. “Isn't there
anything
you remember about her that would help?”

For a moment Caleb was silent, thinking about it. “Swedish!” he said suddenly. “Annika is Swedish!”

“But Annika has black hair.” She certainly didn't look Swedish to Libby.

“Just the same, she is!” Caleb exclaimed. “We talked about it once. One of her ancestors was a Walloon from the
French-speaking part of Belgium.”

He explained that the Walloons came from southern Belgium. They were skilled ironworkers and blacksmiths and miners. When the leader of the Swedish iron industries asked for their help, several hundred emigrated to Sweden. They played an important part in Sweden's industrial growth.

Already Caleb's mind was running ahead. “I just need to find a settlement of Swedes.”

Libby knew that when people came to America, they often settled with people who spoke the same language. It helped them during the time when they were learning English.

“I'll ask at the
Pioneer
office,” Caleb said. “I'll find out where the Swedes are.”

When Caleb returned that night, he was even more excited. He led Libby out on the deck where they could talk without anyone else hearing. “I don't want to raise your pa's hopes until I know. Tomorrow you and Peter and I are going to
Svenska Dalen
.”

“Svenska Dalen?”

“Swedish Valley. Most people call it Swede Hollow.”

Then Caleb said, “Libby, there's something else. The reporters were talking about a man who's a big, well-known crook. The police think he came to St. Paul to hide from the law. Tall. Brown hair. Blue eyes. A cruel mouth.”

Filled with dread, Libby stared at Caleb. “Mr. Trouble?”

“I think so. He fits the description.”

“Then he's the brains behind everything?”

“I don't know,” Caleb said. “But it would help the police to see your drawing.”

CHAPTER 20

D
uring the night it snowed. In the morning, Caleb decided that Peter wasn't well enough to walk all the way to Swede Hollow. As Libby and Caleb set out, she looked back and saw the tracks they had made up the steep hill next to the backwaters. The tall white steamboat looked like an ice palace surrounded by snow.

On the way there, Caleb told Libby more about Swede Hollow. “It's a ravine—a narrow place between steep bluffs. Fur traders lived in the ravine for a while. When they moved on, Swedish immigrants moved in. They started fixing up the houses—”

Caleb corrected himself. “Shacks, the men at the newspaper called them. People stay in the shacks by paying the city five dollars a month for taxes. It's a hidden-away part of St. Paul. If Annika is there, it's no wonder your pa can't find her.”

Before long they came to the edge of the ravine. Looking down, Caleb whistled. “It's seventy feet deep!”

The sides of the ravine were nearly straight up and down. At the bottom of the valley was a swiftly moving stream that Caleb called Phalen Creek. Even from where Libby stood, she heard the water rippling over the stones.

Stilts supported the front side of each house, while the back side was built into the bluff. The houses were small and hastily put up, but to Libby the size didn't matter. There was something about them that she liked.

What is it?
she wondered, puzzled by what she felt.

In Chicago she had lived with Aunt Vi in a mansion, but Libby couldn't call these buildings shacks. Many of the houses showed repair. More than once a front porch or a room had been added. In the steep sides of the ravine, people had set large wooden tubs for flowers to grow in the summer.

Libby struggled to put what she was feeling into words. Then she knew what it was.
A sense of caring. They've taken what they have and made the best of it
.

A new dusting of snow lay over the tucked-away village, making everything clean. As though she could see inside the small houses, Libby imagined family and friends meeting over a cup of coffee. Gathering around a wood stove to talk in the language they knew. Living in a valley that reminded them of the country they left.

If Annika is here, she's made a home
.

At an open spot between trees, Caleb crouched low. “I'll show you the quickest way down,” he said. On the steep side of the ravine, his boots slid forward. Stretching out his arms, he swooped downward. A trail of snow fanned out behind him.

A short distance from the creek, he leaned over and sprawled in a bank of snow. “C'mon! It's great!” he called.

Libby gulped, just looking at Caleb far below.

“You can do it!” he shouted. “But don't hit a tree! Roll on your side if you need to stop!”

The moment Libby crouched down, she felt herself slide
forward. With her slippery shoes, it worked! Then she looked to the bottom of the ravine and panicked, lost her balance, and tumbled into the snow. When she picked herself up, she crouched low again.

This time she dragged her hands behind her, ready to stop if needed. Faster and faster she went, swooping down the hill. Full of laughter, she landed in the soft snow at the bottom.

Libby and Caleb began their search by knocking on the nearest door to ask for Annika Berg. On their first try, a woman said, “Yah, sure, she teaches my children to read and write. She teaches them to love America.”

The woman pointed to a house farther down the hollow. When Caleb knocked there, another woman opened the door. “Yah, yah, the teacher lives here. But she is gone now. Come back in an hour or two.”

“We found her!” Libby exclaimed. “I can't believe it!” After all their searching, it seemed too good to be true.

While they waited, she and Caleb walked through the hollow. Soon they came to a wider path leading up and out of the ravine. As Libby looked ahead, she saw a young woman coming toward her. In the morning sunlight her black hair shone. The cold air brought out the color of her cheeks.

Libby broke into a run. “Annika!” she called. “We found you!”

In the middle of the path the teacher stopped. Then she, too, started running. As they met halfway, Annika threw her arms around Libby in a big hug.

When Annika stepped back, she cupped Libby's face in her hands. “Oh, Libby,” she said, beginning to cry. “I didn't know if I'd ever see you again.”

Now it was Libby who hugged her. When Annika finally stopped weeping, she asked one question. “Your pa?”

Libby grinned. “This is the fifth day he's climbed every hill in St. Paul looking for you.”

She watched the teacher's face. “Annika, did you really mean to say goodbye to us? Goodbye forever?”

The teacher's deep blue eyes met Libby's. “I was very angry when I said that. Angry with your aunt Vi. My pride got in the way.”

“Pa wasn't gone from the
Christina
the way Auntie said. We didn't find out about the note you gave her till we were far down the river. What she told you isn't true.”

A red flush crept into Annika's cheeks. “About being second best?”

Libby nodded. “Pa doesn't want
anyone
to feel second best. Especially the woman he loves.”

Startled, Annika blinked. Once again tears welled up in her eyes. She tried to brush them away.

“Pa would have telegraphed you from Galena,” Libby said. “But the telegraph hasn't reached St. Paul. So he searched out a steamboat captain and sent a letter.”

Tears streamed down Annika's cheeks. “I never received it. If you couldn't find me, the captain probably couldn't find me either.”