The Swindler's Treasure (10 page)

Then, seeing Peter, Libby remembered that she had forgotten to talk on his slate. Did he understand what was going on?

When Peter grinned at her, Libby knew. Though he hadn't heard every word, he understood.

Gran began offering food: boiled eggs still in the shell, slices of fresh peaches, golden pears, and the cinnamon rolls that Libby loved.

As they were eating, Libby felt curious. Caleb was fourteen, almost fifteen now, and Peter had told Libby he was ten. But what about Jordan?

“How old are you?” Libby asked him.

Jordan was enjoying his food so much that when he shrugged his shoulders, Libby thought he didn't want to stop eating.

“Fifteen?” Libby asked. “Sixteen?”

Again Jordan shrugged.

“When's your birthday?”

This time Jordan looked directly at her. “I ain't got no idea.”

Libby stared at him. How could someone possibly not know his own birthday?

“Momma didn't have any way of knowing the day I was born,” Jordan explained. “And she didn't know how to write it down. Momma said Old Master put it in his book.”

“Serena?” Libby asked, even more curious now. “Does Serena know when her birthday is?”

Jordan shook his head.

“Zack?”

Again Jordan shook his head.

“Little Rose?”

Jordan grinned. “Rose was born when the roses bloomed.”

“Do you know the time of year you were born?” Libby asked.

“Momma said it was before the time of harvest. Before the corn was bending down, ready to be picked.”

“Then could it be a day in September?” Libby asked. “You decide when, and we'll celebrate.”

But Jordan once again shook his head.

“You don't want to celebrate your birthday?” Libby asked.

Jordan's eyes were solemn now—dark and deep with how strongly he felt. “I want my birthday to be the day I know my daddy is free.”

CHAPTER 8

L
ibby ate until she was full, then began opening her gifts. Gran had sewed her a new skirt. From Pa came drawing pencils and paper. Jordan gave her a half-open clam shell—clean, polished, and beautiful. And from Peter, a drawing of a sunrise and the words,
Happy Birthday, Libby
.

When there were no more gifts to open, Libby looked up to find Caleb watching her. “I'll have a present for you later,” he said, and Libby could only feel curious.

As she and the others returned to the
Christina
, Caleb told her more. “I'll give you my present as the sun sets on your fourteenth birthday.”

The sun was low in the sky when Caleb found Libby sitting near the bow of the
Christina
. On the deck around them, other people talked together or played games.

“Your pa has business in Hannibal,” Caleb said. “We're not leaving till sometime tonight.”

Caleb kept one hand behind him. When he sat down on a nearby crate, Libby knew he had hidden something behind his back, for his hand came out empty.

What is it?
she wondered as she had all day. She could hardly wait to find out.

For Libby half the fun of the day was remembering all that had happened. In her mind's eye, she could still see the sun rising on her fourteenth birthday.

“That was Illinois you were looking at,” Caleb reminded her as Libby described the view across the river.

Only once did they talk about what would happen the next morning. “What are you going to do about finding Jordan's father?” Libby asked.

But Caleb shook his head, not wanting to talk about it. “Don't spoil your birthday.”

The sun had dropped behind the hills of Hannibal when Libby spoke again. “Caleb, I'm scared about you going to that courthouse. I'm scared that someone will recognize you, that he'll accuse you of helping slaves and have you thrown in jail.”

“Shhh!” Caleb said. “The sun is setting. I said I'd give you your present now.” Looking half embarrassed, Caleb reached behind his back and handed her a gift.

When Libby took the package, she felt the weight of it. Then, as the wrapping paper fell away, she understood why Caleb didn't want her to open his gift in front of the others. In the center of a piece of carefully sanded pinewood, Caleb had carved letters. With a reddish stain made from berries along the river, he had colored each letter:

Libby caught her breath. Never had she seen anything so beautifully carved. Yet it was more than that. “The Lord is my light,” she said. “He leads me and shows me the way. But He's also my salvation.”

As clearly as if it happened only moments before, Libby thought back to the spring day when she nearly died. Because of that life-and-death moment, she knew how much she needed Jesus.

“It was a miracle, wasn't it?” Libby asked as she thought about that time. “Remember our walk along the river and how I almost drowned?”

Caleb nodded.

“Remember how we talked around the campfire? I asked Jesus to forgive my sins. He gave me His forgiveness. I asked for His salvation, and He gave me His peace. My life has been different ever since.”

Now Caleb had given her a promise she could repeat to herself and remember. In the last light of the sun, Libby traced each letter with a finger. When she finally looked up, she found Caleb watching her.

“Thank you,” Libby said softly. “I will treasure your gift forever. When I need to remember what Jesus has done, I'll think of the words.”

“There's more to the verse,” Caleb told her. “‘The Lord is the strength of my life; of whom shall I be afraid?'”

As he and Libby talked, the sky grew dark. On the deck around them, people talked less, then fell silent.

“You know,” Caleb said. “I'm glad you want to work with the Underground Railroad.”

His words surprised Libby. When she first met Caleb, he had tried to keep her from taking part. “Why do you say that?” she asked.

“It's good to be friends,” Caleb answered.

Libby's heart leaped. “Yes, it's good to be friends.”

Far above them the stars appeared, twinkling in the night sky. Libby yawned and stretched, then stood up to leave.

“It's been a perfect day,” she said. “Thanks for everything.”

Starting up the wide stairs at the front of the boat, she thought again about all that had happened from the moment Gran woke her until now. Libby wanted to hug this time to herself and remember it as the most wonderful day of her life.

When she reached the texas deck, she started toward her cabin. Just then she heard a noise from somewhere close by. Standing in the dark, Libby listened, then moved toward the sound. It seemed to be a soft sniffling, as if the person was trying to hide how he felt.

What is it? Someone crying?

At the back end of the boxlike structure called the texas, a stairway led to the pilothouse. As Libby rounded the corner, she saw a small light beneath the steps.

Uh-oh!
Libby thought.
Is that fire I see?

Quietly she crept closer.
Peter! Sitting in the dark with a candle!

When Libby suddenly appeared in front of him, he jumped. Eyes wide with fear, he almost dropped the candle.

“What are you doing?” Libby asked, then remembered he couldn't hear.

Peter's slate lay on the deck beside him. Picking it up, Libby tipped the slate toward the moon and started writing. “You can't have a candle. It's against the rules.”

Holding out the candle, Peter read what she said. Drops of wax fell on Libby's words. That upset her even more.

“Rules?” Peter asked.

“Rules of the boat,” Libby wrote. “Because of the danger of fire, Pa does not allow us to have candles or matches up here.”

As soon as Peter read what she said, Libby stretched out her hand. But Peter shook his head, as if he didn't understand.

Libby took the slate again. “Give me your candle and matches. You can't have them.”

Still looking confused, Peter jumped up.

As though repeating her words, Libby tapped the slate. “Give them to me!”

Instead Peter backed away. When Libby started after him, he blew out the candle and began to run. In the darkness he stumbled, falling the two steps to the hurricane deck.

Stopping in her tracks, Libby panicked. The railing around the hurricane deck was low.
What if Peter falls over?

Just then Caleb came up the stairway from the boiler deck. As Peter picked himself up, he ran into Caleb.

“Hey! What's wrong?” Caleb asked.

“Hang on to him!” Libby exclaimed. Whirling around, she stomped across the texas deck to Pa's cabin.

When she threw open the door, she found Pa sitting in his big chair. With his first look at Libby he stopped rocking.

“That boy you took into our family just wrecked a perfect day!” Libby sputtered.

“What's wrong?” Pa asked as Caleb and Peter appeared at the door.

“I was just coming to talk to you, when Peter ran into me,” Caleb said. “For some reason he carries a candle in his pocket. A candle wrapped up in a waterproof cloth.”

“Well, that's not so serious.” Pa looked to Libby. “What's really bothering you?”

“Peter also carries matches.” Libby spit out her words.

“Matches?”

“And he uses them.”

“That
is
serious,” Pa said.

“I found Peter sitting under the stairs to the pilothouse. He was holding a lighted candle. When I told him you don't allow us to have matches and candles, he ran away from me.”

Pa sighed. Standing up, he walked over to Peter. Holding out his hand, he motioned to a chair, and they all sat down around the table.

Taking a slate, Pa started writing. “Peter, why did you light a candle?”

“To see in the dark,” Peter said.

“That's a good reason,” Pa wrote. “But the wind might catch the flame and start a fire.”

When Peter looked from one to another, Pa wrote again. “Do you understand?”

“I understand I must be careful not to start a fire,” Peter answered.

“Good,” Pa said, then remembered to write. “Give me your candle and matches.”

Slowly, as if he were giving up his prized possession, Peter took the candle from his pocket.

“And the matches,” Pa wrote.

As though not wanting to obey, Peter hesitated. But Pa waited. Finally Peter gave him the matches.

Watching them, Libby felt proud of herself.
I stopped something really serious
, she thought.
Maybe I even saved the
Christina.

But when Peter left the cabin, he walked with his head bowed.

Something bothers him much more than being caught
, Libby thought. Only then did she remember that she had found Peter crying. Libby sighed.
I had to tell Pa. But maybe I could have found a better way
.