Escape Into the Night (16 page)

“And purple,” Caleb added as the rider pulled alongside him. “It’s a good time of day to be out.”

Beyond Caleb, Libby saw Riggs. There was no doubt about the evil in his eyes. Libby shuddered but remembered to hide her face. Then she recalled the farmer’s words.
Caleb is known to people around here. For some reason there’s extra danger for him
.

Holding the blanket forward at the side of her face, Libby again forced herself to laugh. “I declare,” she said. “If you haven’t got the fanciest way of driving these horses!”

Just then Riggs called out. “Stop!”

“Can I help you, mister?” Caleb asked, as if aware of the rider for the first time.

“Stop and let me look in that wagon of yours!”

“I can stop,” Caleb said politely. “But I want to get my friend to Salem soon.”

“What have you got in your wagon?”

“Seed potatoes, sir. A right good crop.”

“And you’re taking ’em to Salem?”

“Yup! Folks there think the load I’m hauling is worth an awful lot.”

Riggs slowed his horse. As Libby heard the hoofbeats drop back, she knew Riggs was matching the pace of his horse to that of the draft team. She had no doubt that he was staring at the bags of potatoes.

For the next half mile or so, Riggs rode just behind Caleb, staying even with the wagon bed. Not once did he speed up or slow down. It took every ounce of Libby’s strength not to turn around.

Suddenly Riggs cursed. As he struck the side of the wagon with a whip, Libby jumped.

“Just wait!” Riggs threatened as he came alongside Caleb. “I’ll find out what you’re up to!” This time Riggs cracked the whip against his own horse. The mare leaped ahead.

As soon as the slave trader was out of sight, Caleb leaned down and knocked on the long board under the seat. When Jordan slid aside the piece of wood hiding the opening, Caleb spoke to him. “You all right, back there?”

“This here Jordan is all right.” Again his voice came through the broken-out space at the back of the seat. “Was he lookin’ at me?”

“Yup. He looked you over. Did you stop breathing?”

Jordan laughed. “I stopped breathin’, all right. I jist got the breath of life back.”

Caleb’s laugh sounded as if he, too, had been let out of jail. “Glad you’re still with us.”

As the last rays of sun dropped below the horizon, Caleb turned to Libby. “You did a good job.”

Libby felt warm with his praise. She felt even more glad that for at least this moment he seemed to trust her.

“You didn’t tell a lie,” she answered.

“That’s what I learned from the Friends,” Caleb told her.

“Friends?” Libby asked.

“Society of Friends, the Quakers at Salem. Truth telling is important to them. It’s also their protection. They don’t get twisted up trying to remember a lie. If a slave catcher asks a question, he knows a Quaker always tells the truth. Sometimes that truth is what throws the slave catcher off.”

“I’d be so scared that I’d tell a lie,” Libby answered. “I don’t see how you and the Quakers do it. Especially if you’re trying to hide someone from an evil man like Riggs.”

In the last bit of light Caleb grinned. “Just wait. You’ll see what I’m talking about.”

“You are the strangest boy I ever met,” Libby answered.

“Yup. I probably am.” Caleb didn’t seem at all disturbed by her idea of him.

“Does that bother you? Don’t you care what people think?”

In answer Caleb took his gaze from the road. “I care about what some people think.”

“But not everyone.”

“Not everyone.”

“Why?” Libby asked.

Caleb shrugged, as if his answer were as plain as day. “If I respect someone, I care about what they think. If I don’t respect
someone, it’s not always important what they think. They might want me to do something I don’t believe in.”

“Like telling them where Jordan is hidden.”

Libby sighed. She wished life could seem so simple to her. She could only wonder if Caleb respected her. She wanted that respect more than anything she had wanted in a long time.

Every now and then, Caleb stopped to rest the horses. Only once, when they pulled into a woods at the side of the road, did Jordan crawl out from under the sacks of potatoes and get down to stretch.

When they started out again, Libby knew what to ask. “Caleb, what do you want to be when you grow up?”

“A newspaperman.” Caleb answered so quickly, there seemed no doubt in his mind.

“A newspaperman?” Libby hadn’t guessed this side of Caleb. She only knew that he always expressed himself well.

“A newspaperman like Elijah Lovejoy.”

Again Libby felt curious. “Who’s Elijah Lovejoy?”

“An editor who died at Alton,” Caleb said quietly.

“You want to
die
like him?”

“Oh no!” Caleb’s impatience showed in his voice. “I want to live like him! Elijah Lovejoy edited a newspaper in Saint Louis—the
Saint Louis Observer
, it was called. He spoke out against slavery, and he had to flee to Alton. There he started over.”

“With another newspaper?”

Caleb nodded. “The
Alton Observer
. He kept writing against slavery. Mobs destroyed his press three times. Friends raised money to buy a fourth press, and Elijah hid it in one of those warehouses we saw along the river. A mob gathered and shot him.”

“That’s when he died?”

“Yup. The mob threw his press into the river.”

“Why do you want to be a newspaperman like that?” Libby asked. “It sounds like you’d be asking for a lot of trouble.”

“Maybe,” Caleb answered. “But what I really want to be is someone who stands up for things that are important.”

“Even though you know what comes with it?” Libby asked. “You might be persecuted too.”

Caleb glanced down to the hole in the back of the seat. “Even though it’s dark, Jordan knows he has to hide. You don’t know what he went through to escape from Riggs. He went without food and water. He hid in the bushes and risked his life.”

Caleb leaned down and spoke into the broken-out space. “Tell her, Jordan.”

But Jordan didn’t answer. Libby wondered why. Maybe he didn’t want to tell her.

“I bet he’s fallen asleep,” Caleb said finally. “When Jordan ran away, he knew that at any minute he could be shot or found by bloodhounds. What he did was a thousand times harder than anything I’ve ever done.”

Farther down the road Caleb spoke again. “You know, Libby, this wasn’t Jordan’s first escape. He tried before and was brought back. This time Jordan was ready to die if that’s what it took to be free.”

“I’d be scared,” Libby said. “I’m scared now, just thinking about it.”

“I am too,” Caleb answered. “But there’s something your pa told me. ‘We all have times when we’re afraid. What counts is what we do, even though we’re scared.’”

There was something Libby still wondered about. “When we were in Saint Louis, why did you start writing the
Christina
’s name in the dirt?”

Caleb stared at her. “You don’t miss much, do you? I hoped Jordan would remember the letters. It would help him find us.”

“Caleb,” Libby started, then hesitated. She felt afraid to ask. “Do you trust me now?”

“I think so,” Caleb answered. “But don’t do anything stupid. It’s Jordan’s freedom that’s at stake. And maybe his life.”

Suddenly Libby thought about what it meant to be a never-give-up family. Was Jordan now part of the bigger family Pa talked about? In everything they did, Jordan and Caleb seemed to look out for each other.

Not for anything will I do something to hurt Jordan
, Libby promised herself. With all her heart she meant it. Yet a feeling of dread tightened her stomach.
What if I get so scared that I do something wrong? What if I try hard to do everything right and still give Jordan away?

CHAPTER 15

B
y the time the moon came up, Libby’s eyes had grown used to the darkness. Here and there, patches of snow lay in sheltered hollows on the north side of a woods. Whenever Libby noticed such a patch, she realized how hard it would be to hide, even at night, against that whiteness.

As they entered the village of Salem, Libby saw no one stirring on the streets. Yet Caleb seemed to know exactly where to go. When he stopped at a large barn, he jumped down and opened a large set of double doors. As soon as he led the horses and wagon inside, he closed the doors.

Libby thought Caleb would let Jordan out of the wagon right away. Instead, Caleb went quietly to work, unhitching the horses.

“Where are we?” Libby asked in a low voice.

“Henderson Lewelling built the house where we’re going,”

Caleb whispered. “But he doesn’t live there anymore.”

“It’s a Quaker family?” Libby asked.

Caleb nodded. “Amos and Ellen Kimberly.”

When Libby tried to ask more questions, he whispered, “Shhhhh!”

Within the wagon box Jordan lay without making a sound.
Working quickly, Caleb took the harness off the horses and rubbed them down. Not until he had given them hay and hung the harness on hooks did Caleb return to the wagon. Standing next to the load of potatoes he spoke softly. “Stay there, Jordan. I’ll make sure it’s okay.”

To Libby it seemed a long time before Caleb came back. When he returned, he pushed back the U-shaped box.

“It’s safe, Jordan,” he whispered. “C’mon out.”

Like a giant figure rising from a mountain of potatoes, Jordan stood up. When he jumped down from the wagon, he moved stiffly. On the ground he flexed his muscles, then followed Caleb and Libby from the barn.

Outside, Caleb led them through a back street, then an orchard, to a side doorway in a large stone house. As if someone had watched for them, the door swung open from the inside.

When it closed again, the person lit a candle. To Libby’s surprise the person was a boy. Caleb introduced him as Samuel.

“Wast thou followed?” Dressed in the plain Quaker style of work pants and homespun shirt, Samuel seemed about their age.

“Right outside of Burlington,” Caleb said. “He left us, but I think he’ll be back.”

“Then come!” Samuel motioned to Jordan.

In the kitchen Samuel pushed aside the table and a braided rug. As he opened a trapdoor, Libby saw a crawl space large enough to hide several people under the floor. When Jordan stepped down into it, Samuel whispered to him, “We’ll give thee food as soon as it’s safe.”

Samuel and Caleb closed the trapdoor and replaced the
rug and table. Moving quickly, Samuel set bread, cheese, and a pitcher of milk on the table. While he dished up soup from a kettle on the wood cookstove, Libby looked around.

Heavy curtains were drawn against anyone who might look through the windows. Only one candle lighted the room.

“I need to talk to your father,” Caleb told Samuel.

As though it wasn’t at all unusual to wake someone at such an hour, Samuel left to get his father.

Caleb was still eating when Mr. Kimberly came into the kitchen. “We welcome thee,” he told both Caleb and Libby as he sat down at the table.

“I’m looking for a woman named Hattie Parker,” Caleb said. “She might have had three children with her.”

Mr. Kimberly shook his head, but then Caleb named a place in northeastern Missouri.