The Swindler's Treasure (23 page)

Like a worm, a thought wiggled its way into Libby's mind.
Jordan and his daddy did just fine without us. We didn't need to get on this train. Caleb and I could have stayed in Brighton and tried to catch the swindler
.

Libby's thoughts went round and round, always coming back to the same place.
We made a stupid choice, and all for nothing!

Just as Libby drifted off to sleep, Peter poked her.
Quit bothering me
, she thought, half-awake and half-asleep.
Let me be!

Peter tugged at her arm. “Libby! You've got to look!”

At the sound of panic in his voice, Libby came awake. As she opened her eyes, Peter pointed out the window. Alongside the train, the tall, dry prairie grass swayed back and forth in the wind. But farther ahead and off to the right, flames raced across the top of the grass.

“Fire!” muttered a man just ahead of Libby.

From the front of the car came a woman's cry. “Prairie fire!” Jumping up, people crowded the aisle to look through the windows on the right side.

Brakes squealing, the train came to a stop. Leaning out, Libby saw that the fire wasn't only off away from them. Just ahead of the engine, the grass along the track was scorched black, as if the fire had begun there. Still farther ahead was a trestle with the long bridge that crossed the bed of a nearly dry creek. Near that bridge, flames lapped at the timbers under the tracks.

“No panic now!” the conductor called as he hurried through the car. “Women, keep your children with you. Men and boys—all able-bodied people—we need your help!”

Already the smell of smoke drifted in through the windows. The moment the doors opened, men hurried down the steps. Libby grabbed her denim skirt from her bag and followed Peter off the train.

Pulling off their suit coats and shirts as they ran, men headed for the creek. Buckets in their hands, trainmen raced down the banks. Within moments a line formed.

Libby followed the others to the water. Already Peter had taken a place in the line. Standing in the creek, a man filled buckets. From one person to the next the buckets passed until the closest man emptied water on the flames.

As the empty buckets passed back along the line, there came a rhythm. Buckets filled, passed, emptied. Water sloshed against the burning railroad ties. Buckets returned to the creek.

Joining the women without children, Libby plunged her heavy skirt into the creek and ran up the bank. On the right side of the engine, the area of charred grass was growing larger. Leaping before the wind, the fire raced across the top of the tall grass, moving out across the prairie. But tongues of flame also crept along the tracks, as though trying to reach for the train.

Spreading out along that line, women pounded their shawls or whatever clothing they could use against the burning grass. “Here! Over here!” a woman shouted.

Her long hair blowing in her face, Libby joined the line. Pounding her wet skirt against the flames, she felt the heat. Her throat burned with the smoke. Then she choked and had to pull back.

From behind her came the calls of men working together. “Faster! Faster!” someone cried. “The bridge! The fire's going toward the bridge!” called another.

Around Libby, the women worked steadily on. Now and then a hole opened in the line as a woman ran back to plunge a garment into the creek. Gradually the women started to gain on the fire.

Peter!
Libby wondered once.
Where is he?

Filled with panic, she whirled around, then saw him farther along the line, passing buckets to the men near the tracks. Libby drew a deep breath, glad to clear her lungs of the heavy smoke. At least the women were winning.

But when Libby raced to the creek, only small pools of water remained. Ahead of her, a bucket came up half full. Another was only a quarter full. Then, from high on top of the tender, Libby heard a cry.

“Up here! Toss me a bucket!”

Jordan knelt on the tender, the huge water tank behind the engine. Already he had thrown back the heavy cover.

“A rope!” he shouted, and someone threw one up.

Quickly Jordan knotted it around the handle of a bucket, then lowered the pail into the tender. When it came up full, the bucket line reformed. Swinging his pail over the side of the tank, Jordan lowered it to the ground. There a man emptied the water into another pail and sent the bucket down the line.

Again and again Jordan lowered his bucket into the tank of water, pulled it up, and lowered it to the men on the ground. Fanned by the wind, flames leaped along the wooden ties close to the bridge. At the head of the line, next to the trestle, Jordan's father poured water on the flames.

Libby plunged her denim skirt into the last bit of creek water, pulled it out dripping, and ran back to the line of women. The wind had shifted now, and the fire that had been moving away turned back. In a great arc it was circling around toward the end of the train.

Libby panicked.
Fire ahead of us. Fire behind? We'll be surrounded!

Eating new grass as it came, the flames leaped across the prairie. As the line of women changed its position, Libby again pounded her skirt against the ground. Her arms ached now, and smoke rose around her, fueling her fear.
Can I possibly hold back my part of the line?

Filled with terror, she glanced back toward the train. Two men stood behind the last car. At first Libby thought she was seeing things. Two men doing nothing while everyone else worked to put out a fire?

When the smoke lifted, one of the men was gone, but Libby recognized the other.
Riggs! Riggs standing there, while all around him people poured out their lives?

For an instant Libby stared at him. Then the line of fire in front of her flared up again. Desperate now, Libby worked on.

Just as she felt she could do no more, Peter stood next to her. Skinny but strong, he pounded his wet shirt against the ground. Libby felt better just seeing him there. Side by side they worked until the ground around them was cinder black. The last flame was out.

In that moment a great shout went up. On the railroad ties closest to the bridge, men raised their arms in victory. Dragging whatever they had used to beat out the fire, exhausted women stumbled toward the engine.

All around her Libby saw their sweaty, soot-blackened faces. Their torn and dirty clothes. Their blistered hands, their hair blowing loose in the wind.

The shirtless men were as dirty and tired as the women. Like the women, some had singed hair and eyebrows. Others had welts on their faces and blistered skin.

Then, as if each person thought of the same thing in the same moment, they turned. As one person, they looked to the top of the tender where Jordan still knelt, a bucket of water in his hands.

When he dropped to the ground, men clapped his shoulders. Others shook his hand. Women offered their thanks. But Libby looked around. At the edge of the crowd stood Riggs, watching Jordan.

CHAPTER 18

G
rabbing Peter's arm, Libby stepped out of sight behind the engine. Quickly she signed a
J
for Jordan, then an
R
for Riggs. Peter nodded that he understood.

When they tried to warn Jordan, he had already slipped away. Libby could only wonder how the slave trader had managed to board this train. Frances had been so careful to protect Jordan. Libby knew he was the last person on board. Riggs couldn't have followed him.
Unless—

Libby's thoughts tumbled on. Like the ringing of a bell, she remembered the slave trader's words to Micah: “
I came for your boy and found
you!”

While trainmen checked to see that the tracks and trestle were safe to use, one of the passengers filled the buckets with water. People began washing off their sweat and dirt. When Libby sloshed the clean water over her face and arms, she felt a welcome coolness after the heat of the fire.

As Peter finished washing, he pulled on his shirt and looked around. Glancing the same direction, Libby saw Jordan's father climbing into the baggage car. Again he walked hunched over like an old man, but during the fire he had forgotten his helpless look. As a strong, well-conditioned man, he had taken the difficult place next to the bridge. Libby had no doubt that Riggs had also seen Micah Parker.

Her throat tightened just thinking about Jordan's father. Hours before the rest of them boarded the train for Springfield, he had left Dr. Brown's house. The Underground Railroad conductor who helped Micah had driven a long distance to put him on this train. If it weren't for the fire, both Jordan and Micah would have been safe in the baggage car.

When the engineer blew a whistle for departure, Libby and Peter followed the rest of the passengers onto the train. As they returned to their seats, Libby saw that Peter's blond hair was singed near his forehead. Otherwise he seemed okay.

Taking the slate, Libby wrote to him. “After fighting a fire together, you seem like a brother.”

Peter grinned with agreement, but then asked, “What do we do about Riggs?”

The dread within her growing, Libby turned her palms up and shrugged. She didn't know.

We need you, Caleb!
she wanted to cry out. They also needed Allan Pinkerton's help.

As bad as the fire was, seeing Riggs upset Libby more. Right at this moment, here on this train, he might be collecting slave catchers to help him. Like a lion stalking its prey, Riggs would pounce on Jordan and Micah Parker the first chance he got.

There's only one way to solve the problem
, Libby thought.
Somehow, some way, Jordan and his father need to get off the train before Riggs
.

Then, like a nightmare that still seemed real after she woke up, Libby remembered that two men had stood in back of the train. Riggs was one of them. Who was the other? The smoke had been too thick, her terror too great to be sure. Was he a friend or an enemy?

Any person who will not help to put out a fire has to be an enemy
, Libby decided. Worse still, whoever that man was, he, too, was on the train.

As Libby heard the
chug, chug, chug
of the train starting to roll again, she remembered something else—just dimly, not well enough to be sure. Were there two carpetbags on the ground next to the second man? If so, Libby knew who he was.
But I have to be sure!

Still in her seat, Libby twisted around to see everyone sitting behind her. Then, looking toward the front, she let her gaze move from one person to the next. Seeing no one she knew, Libby wondered if she should walk through the other cars.

There was danger in that too.
If Riggs sees me, will he know I'm Captain Norstad's daughter and Jordan's friend?

Thinking back, Libby tried to remember the times she had seen the cruel slave trader. As far as she knew, Riggs had seen her with Jordan only one time—that spring night soon after she came to live on Pa's boat. Would Riggs remember her?

Finally Libby made up her mind.
I have to take the risk. I need to know who tipped off Riggs
.