The Swindler's Treasure (22 page)

“Sorry,” he said, and moved on. But the two boys, both of them older than Peter, kept watching him.

On a table near the front of the car was a covered bucket with a tin cup hanging nearby. As Peter picked it up, one of the boys started forward. Reaching over Peter's shoulder, he snatched the cup.

Whirling around, Peter grabbed for it. The bully held it high, then tossed it to his friend.

“Uh-oh!” Caleb leaped up from his seat. Libby followed him.

Peter faced the boys with an angry scowl. Automatically he began to sign, his fingers and hands moving rapidly.

The first boy drew back, staring. Then he began to laugh. Poking his friend, the bully wiggled his fingers, imitating Peter.

Suddenly Peter stopped signing. His face flushed with anger, he held up a clenched fist. “You're not going to get the best of me!”

“So! The little boy wants a fight!” the bully cried. “We'll give you one to remember!”

CHAPTER 17

I
n the next moment Caleb reached the bully. “No, you won't!” Grabbing hold of his shirt, Caleb twisted the bully around. But the boy's friend threw up his fists, ready to take on both Caleb and Peter.

“What's the matter with you,” Caleb demanded, “picking on someone half your age?”

“Get out of here!” the bully cried. “It's none of your business!”

“You're not touching this boy!” Caleb warned.

“Who says?”

“I do! Libby, call the conductor.”

Within a minute the conductor was there, and behind him, a man with a bushy beard.

“Tell the engineer to stop,” the second man said, speaking with a strong Irish accent. “We'll put the boys off the train.”

“You can't do that to us!” the first bully cried.

“You can't pick fights on Mr. Godfrey's train. You have only five or six miles to walk to the nearest town.”

As the train clanked to a stop, the Irishman led the boys to an exit. Moments later the two bullies stood at the side of the track, their eyes resentful as they stared after the train.

“Who are you?” Caleb asked when the man returned.

“Allan Pinkerton, at your service. The Pinkerton Detective Agency.” He grinned, then repeated his agency's motto. “The Eye That Never Sleeps.”

“I've always wanted to meet you,” Caleb said.

Quickly Libby wrote on the slate. When Peter understood, he offered his hand, and Mr. Pinkerton shook it.

“Thank you,” Peter said solemnly. “I'm glad you were here.”

Libby, Caleb, and Peter had just sat down again when Caleb groaned. “I can't believe what I did!”

“What are you talking about?” Libby asked.

“I forgot the horses. How could I be so careless?”

Libby stared at him. “The horses?”

“Dr. Brown's horses. The ones we used to go after Jordan. Remember? We tied their lead ropes to a couple of trees so they wouldn't wander off while Jordan and Micah got into the house. Then things started happening so fast that I forgot to tell Frances where the horses were.”

“Oh, Caleb!”

“I left them without food or water.”

“Frances will find them,” Libby said.

“We hid them in a really good spot. Jordan and I talked about it. We didn't want someone to steal the horses.”

“Dr. Brown will find them,” Libby said.

But Caleb wasn't sure about that. “I need to get off. I'll catch the next train back to Brighton and meet you in Springfield.”

“But that will take hours!”

“Yup! Hours when the Browns might not find their horses. Hours when the horses won't have food and water.”

“But what about Riggs?” Libby was upset now. “He's probably still in Brighton, sniffing his way around. He knows you, Caleb. He knows you had something to do with Jordan escaping. Riggs will do anything to stop what you're doing!”

“Libby, the Browns were really kind to all of us. I don't want to hurt them.”

“Caleb, it's dangerous for you to go back.” Libby's voice was low. “The slave catchers in this area know you now. They know you walked down the streets of Alton with a fugitive slave, acting as if what you were doing was okay.”

“I don't have any choice but to go back,” Caleb said. “Jordan is safe now. All he has to do is hide in the baggage car until Springfield. Besides, Mr. Pinkerton is here. If there's any trouble, he'll help you.”

“If Riggs and the slave catchers can prove you helped two fugitives, they'll get you arrested!”

“And Dr. Brown and his family are risking everything they have to help fugitives.”

“Your grandmother, Caleb,” Libby reminded, hoping it would stop him from doing what she knew was dangerous.

“Give her my love,” Caleb said quietly. “I'll see you at the Colored Baptist Church in Springfield.”

At the next stop, Caleb swung down to the platform. As Libby watched through the window, he turned and waved to her and Peter. Then Caleb hurried into the depot.

Soon the great black steam engine chugged out of the station. As the depot behind them grew smaller and smaller, Libby felt lost and alone. She liked being with Caleb. She liked having him for a friend, but it was more than that. Whenever she felt scared, she depended on Caleb for help.

Now Peter gazed out the window, trying to see everything. Libby leaned back. All she could think about was how good her bed on the
Christina
would feel. The railroad car was growing warmer by the minute.

As the train picked up speed, cinders blew in through the open windows. Watching the cinders, Libby remembered stories about them falling onto a railroad bed. Often they lodged in the wooden ties beneath the tracks and flared up when conditions were right. Grass fires were common in areas where trains passed through.

The tinder hot day made Libby feel jumpy
.
What if some train dropped a cinder in the wrong place?

Silly!
Libby tried to push the thought away.
You're borrowing trouble
.

Just the same, she didn't like the specks of black dust all over her dress. Peter's shirt already looked dirty. Reaching up, Libby closed the window next to her.

Soon the heat became so unbearable that she opened it again. The hot wind was better than no air at all.

In laying out the railroad to Springfield, Mr. Godfrey had planned a village every ten miles. Between the towns, great areas of level land stretched off in every direction. As Libby settled back, she watched the four- and five-foot-high grass waving in the wind.

Now in the first week of August, the grass was dry, but countless flowers had sprung up across the prairie. More than once Peter pointed, wanting her to see the blue flowers and the white, with now and then a scattering of red.

At the next village, the engine stopped alongside the large tower close to the track. Lowering the spout, a man let water flow from the tank into the tender—the car just behind the engine.

As passengers started to leave the car, Allan Pinkerton stopped to talk to Libby and Peter.

“I'm needing to get off here,” he said. “But you'll have no more trouble from bullies.”

Inwardly Libby groaned. When Caleb left the train, he had counted on Mr. Pinkerton if she and Peter needed help.

Again Libby tried to push the thought away.
Everything is going fine. In no time at all, we'll be in Springfield. But just in case—

“There's something else,” she said quickly. “We're looking for a swindler who stole money from my pa and from a church in Galena. If we find him, what do we do?”

Mr. Pinkerton rubbed his bushy beard, thinking about it. “If the man stands still long enough for you to accuse him, you'll have to prove you know what you're talking about.”

“I can tell you the exact amount of money he took from Pa and Jordan.”

“That would help,” Mr. Pinkerton said. “But do you know of a way to identify the stolen money?”

“Ink blotches!” Libby exclaimed. “The pastor at Jordan's church said there are ink blotches on about ten of the bills.”

Mr. Pinkerton looked pleased. “If you manage to find bills with ink blotches on them, you've got something to go on.”

For the first time in their search for the stolen money, Libby felt they were getting somewhere.

Then Mr. Pinkerton offered a warning. “Just don't try something foolish. A foolhardy man rushes in where even angels fear to tread. But a brave man is wise about handling danger. Sure and I'm wishing that the ten toes of your feet steer you clear of trouble.”

“We'll be in trouble, all right.” In that moment Libby felt sure of it. “Is there some way to get hold of you?”

Reaching into his pocket, Mr. Pinkerton pulled out a card for his Chicago agency. Flipping it over, he wrote an address on the back. “I'll do my best to be in Springfield in a few days. I'll be staying with a friend. You can find me here.” Then Mr. Pinkerton was gone.

While workers loaded freight, Libby and Peter watched out the window, studying every passenger who drew close to the train. A man with hunched-over shoulders stood near the baggage car. Wearing the overalls and straw hat of a farm worker, he leaned on a thick wooden stick for support. As the other Negro passengers boarded the train, the man kept looking back down the track. Only when he swung up into the car did Libby see the side of his face.

After the man disappeared, Libby kept thinking about him. Once, she had seen Jordan pretend he was an old man. Without that picture in her mind, she might not have suspected that the worker was Jordan's father. But now a great shout of laughter bubbled up inside of Libby.

Taking Peter's slate, she wrote the good news. “Micah Parker just got into the baggage car.”

Peter grinned. “He was the one who looked like an old man?”

Libby wrote quickly on the slate. “I'm sure of it. Jordan and his daddy are SAFE!”

Once again the engine chugged away from the depot. Just thinking about the happy reunion in the baggage car made Libby want to celebrate. What was Jordan thinking right now as he recognized his father?

“Springfield, here we come!” Libby wrote on the slate. “All we have to do is walk off the train and find the Colored Baptist Church.”

Libby felt sure that nothing more would go wrong. In Springfield they would all be together again. As soon as Jordan and his father met Hattie and the other children, the family could go where they wanted and begin their new life of freedom.

Then Libby remembered. Even if his family was together, Jordan would never be satisfied until his name was cleared. His name couldn't be cleared until Jordan found the stolen money and turned it over to John Jones.

And Pa. In twelve days Pa needs to make the double payment. If he doesn't, he'll lose the
Christina.

Discouraged again, Libby leaned back and closed her eyes.
Isn't there some way we can solve the mystery of the swindler's treasure?