Escape Into the Night (21 page)

“We ran so fast that I didn’t notice directions.”

“Then I’ll show you.” Again Caleb took up the stick and drew in the dirt. “This is where we are—”

Soon his lines became streets. Before long, those streets led to the river. “Cross Hawkeye Creek here. All you have to do is get to the
Christina
and find help.”

“What if Pa isn’t there?” Libby asked.

“Ask Gran,” Caleb said. “She’ll tell you what to do.”

“And if she isn’t there?”

“Talk to Osborne. He’s
always
there.”

Libby still felt shaky. Her part in the plan seemed very simple in comparison with what Jordan and Emma had already done. Yet Libby could not push her terror aside.

After all that has happened to Emma, what if I lose her baby?

CHAPTER 19

L
ibby?” Caleb broke into her thoughts. “You better get moving.”

Slowly Libby stood up. She walked over to the milking stool that Caleb set beneath a window. Her panic-filled thoughts darted in every direction.
I gave them away once. What if I do it again?

Yet there was more. More, even, than the failure Libby dreaded. In just a few hours she had come to know Caleb and Jordan and Emma better than any of her Chicago friends. Together the four of them had faced life and death.

Are they part of my never-give-up family?
Libby wondered.
What if something happens and I never see them again?

Next to her stood Caleb, the strange boy that she now admired. The boy who stood up for what he believed but who was, after all, just as much fun as any other boy.

Before his honest gaze, Libby knew she also had to be honest. If she didn’t, there was something that would always stand between them.

“I need to tell you something,” she began. “I’m sorry for the things I said when I first came onboard the
Christina
.”

Caleb’s glance toward Jordan and Emma told Libby that he knew exactly what she meant.

“I forgive you, Libby,” he said. “If Jordan and Emma knew, they’d forgive you too.”

But Libby wasn’t satisfied with that.
If I want a never-give-up family, I have to be that kind of person
. Leaving the window, Libby walked back to the others.

“Jordan—” she stopped.

Somehow Jordan knew, knew that she had never cared enough to find out what was happening to his people.

“Sometime I tell you, Libby,” he said. “I tell you how I escaped.”

But it was Emma that Libby worried about most of all. Dropping down, Libby tried to see into her eyes. “Do you trust me, Emma? Do you trust me with little Henry?”

At first Emma did not look at her. When at last she lifted her gaze, her eyes still looked dark and scared. Then she spoke. “I trusts you, Libby. I trusts you with my baby.”

“You’re sure, Emma? What if something goes wrong?” Libby dreaded even the thought.

“You be a right fine conductor, Libby. You won’t lose your passenger.”

“But I’m
scared
!” Libby wailed. “I can’t do all the things the rest of you do! I can’t walk through swamps, or talk to slave catchers, or forgive someone who beats me. I can’t—”

Caleb stopped her. “Libby, just do what’s in front of you.”

“Caleb?” Libby still didn’t feel sure about this prayer business. But if it might help—“Caleb, will you and Jordan and Emma pray for me?”

Caleb nodded. “The whole time.”

“I mean now,” Libby said.

“I like Pastor Salter’s prayer,” Caleb answered. He bowed
his head. “Lord, help Libby to know the way she should walk.”

As she heard Caleb’s voice, Libby felt strangely moved. Talking to God like that seemed so—so safe.

“Give her a disguise,” Caleb went on. “Deliver her and us from all our enemies.”

“Amen!” Jordan prayed.

“Amen, amen!” Emma whispered.

But will it really work?
Libby wondered.
Will that prayer work for me?

Again Caleb looked out one side of the barn. The slave catchers were still there, staring into the ravine as though expecting someone to appear at any moment.

Jordan looked out the other side. Close to the trunk of a tree, as though trying to stay out of sight, Riggs waited.

“I’ll come back with my dog,” Libby promised Emma. “Have little Henry ready when I come.”

Once again Caleb helped Libby climb onto the milk stool. As she took hold of the windowsill, Caleb remembered something else. “By the way, you should know that Mr. Bates is a Southern sympathizer.”

“Mr. Bates?” Libby stared at Caleb. “The first mate of the
Christina?
You mean if he had to choose, Mr. Bates would be on the side of a slave catcher?”

“Maybe.”

“He’d help Riggs?”

“Maybe. Just don’t trust him.”

Outside the window there were bushes. Beyond them, a dirt street.
If I can just reach the street, if I can just walk away—

As Libby climbed through the window, she felt glad she no longer wore a fancy dress. When she dropped to the ground,
her heart pounded. Quickly she looked around, sure that anyone within miles could hear. But no slave catchers, not even Riggs, peered around a corner.

Libby straightened. Brushing back her hair, she pulled up her Quaker bonnet. After smoothing her skirt in place, she took one deep breath and started walking.

When she reached the spot where Riggs could see her, Libby did not change her pace. Nor did she look around. Trusting that the deep brim of the bonnet would hide her face, she kept her back to the slave trader.

Without turning her head to the left or the right, Libby walked. With her shoulders back and her step confident, she walked. As though life was simple and never dangerous, she walked as Caleb had told her. Only when she felt sure she was hidden by a hill did she dare look back.

When Libby was sure that no one followed, she broke into a run. Soon great ragged breaths tore her chest, and she had to stop. Yet before long she hurried on again.

After the miles she had already traveled that day, the six or seven blocks to the river seemed to take forever. When Libby staggered up the gangplank, Samson stood at the top, as though she had just left him. Seeing Libby, he wagged his tail until it should have fallen off.

“Good dog!” Libby said quickly as she hurried past him. With new energy, she headed for her father’s cabin. As though unwilling to let her out of his sight, Samson followed close behind. But Captain Norstad wasn’t there.

Libby raced to the pastry galley and learned that Gran was shopping for groceries. And when Libby searched out Osborne, he, too, had gone into Burlington.

Once again, Libby’s heart filled with fear.
Is there anyone else I can trust? I should have asked Caleb
.

As she tried to decide what to do, Samson’s tail slapped against her. At last Libby noticed.

“You poor dog!” she exclaimed. “After being gone three days I don’t even pay attention to you!” Kneeling down, she stroked his back, then scratched behind his ears.

But Libby’s stomach was doing flip-flops. “We’re on our own, Samson,” she whispered in his ear. “I just wish there were someone who could help!”

Just then Libby heard a voice behind her. “Is there something I can do for you?”

“Yes, I need—” she started to say. Then she looked up.
Bates! The first mate!

For the first time since Libby had known him, he sounded helpful. Then Caleb’s words leaped into her mind.
He’s a Southern sympathizer
.

With growing panic, Libby scrambled up. “I need—” Suddenly she hiccuped loudly.

Mr. Bates stared at her. “You need what?”

Libby held her breath. But when she opened her mouth to speak, she hiccuped again.

“Don’t say it, young lady. You need a glass of water!”

Libby nodded. The moment Bates asked a waiter for water, Libby fled.

The pastry galley was filled with the aroma of freshly baked mince pie. Libby quickly found a laundry basket and a large tablecloth. On the main deck she searched out the wagon. Her fingers fumbled, but at last she had Samson’s harness just right.

I’m ready!
Libby thought.
No, not quite
. Riggs and the slave
catchers would never expect a fugitive to wear a fancy dress.

Libby snatched up the basket and raced back to her room. There she opened the tablecloth and used it to line the basket. Inside that, she set a pair of shoes. Throwing open her trunk, she found gloves, then searched out a piece of thin cloth she could use for a veil. With great long stitches, she sewed the veil to the brim of her Quaker bonnet.

Now, a dress for Emma. Which one would be best?

They were almost the same size, and Libby pulled out one dress, then another. None of them seemed right. Finally she came to the pale green dress that she liked most of all, the dress that reminded Libby of her mother.

When I wore this dress, Auntie Vi and Uncle Alex thought I looked beautiful. Even my friends said so. This is the dress I’ll wear when I want to look my very best
.

Then Libby remembered.
It’s a little bigger around the waist for someone who’s just had a baby
.

For one moment Libby stroked the pale green cloth. Then, before she could change her mind, she folded the dress and laid it inside the basket.

With her fingers flying, Libby changed into another dress and a bonnet of her own. With all her heart she hoped to pass for someone different from the person who walked away from the barn.

On the main deck again, Libby set the laundry basket in the wagon. As she snapped a leash to Samson’s collar, Bates spoke from behind.

“Here’s your water, Miss.”

This time Libby put on the smile she had practiced in front of a mirror. “Thank you, Mr. Bates.”

With one gulp she drank the water, then said, “I’ll just take Samson for a walk.”

Down the gangplank they went, with Libby taking the lead. When they reached the landing, Samson walked beside her, as if they had done this a thousand times. Wherever he went, the wagon trailed behind.

Up the hill Libby and Samson walked, back over the streets to the Salter barn. Whenever Samson seemed unsure about what to do, Libby lifted the leash and gave a slight tug on the collar. Samson understood where she wanted him to go.

By the time they drew close to the Salter house, the sun had dropped behind the trees. Were the men still there, waiting for dark? If they were, there was little time left.

Libby’s hands turned clammy. With every part of her being she wanted to run. But an idea entered her head.
What would I do if my mother were a washerwoman?

Suddenly Libby knew. As though she had no other thought than to deliver clean clothes, she walked to the side door. Raising her hand, she pretended to rap.

For a few minutes she stood there, as though waiting for an answer. When none came, Libby walked boldly toward the barn. Still on the end of the leash, Samson followed with the wagon.

“Anybody home?” Libby called out.

Inside the line of trees, the two slave catchers still waited. As Libby glanced that way, they stepped out of sight. If Libby hadn’t known they were there, she would have missed them.