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.
Quickly Libby put on her bonnet so her red hair wouldn’t be so noticeable. She tucked in the wisps curling around her face. Then she pushed the long strands inside the back of her dress and pulled up the collar.
“Be right back,” she wrote to Peter, then stepped into the aisle.
The train was moving faster now, perhaps even thirty miles an hour. Libby felt the rumble of the wheels beneath her feet. Holding her breath, she walked forward into the next car. When she recognized no one there, she kept on through that car into the next.
Finally she spotted Riggs. She made her way slowly up the aisle, but just as she reached him, the car swayed. Libby wobbled, almost losing her balance, then grabbed the back of the seat in front of the slave trader.
Hardly daring to breathe, Libby waited till the car steadied again. Then, trying to pretend that nothing had happened, she moved on.
In the car beyond that, Libby walked slowly enough to glance at every face. Partway up the aisle, Libby noticed the back of a man’s head. Something about the way he sat seemed familiar. Then Libby noticed the color of his suit and his expensive-looking hat. Yes, that was the memory Libby held from the fire.
The swindler, Edward Dexter!
Turning quickly so he wouldn’t see her, Libby started back through the cars. So. How did Dexter get on the train without our seeing him?
Then Libby realized it would have been easy. The swindler could have been part of the large group that boarded at Brighton. The conductor had sent some people forward, others back into different cars.
Dexter. The man who stole money from Pa. The man who stole money from Jordan. And now the man who is the link to Riggs.
When Libby sat down again next to Peter, she thought back to the telegraph office in Alton. The swindler sent a message to Riggs. Dexter must have seen Jordan leave the Christina. But what happened in Brighton?
Libby thought about it. Did the swindler see Jordan hiding on a wagon that took baggage to the train? If Dexter looked down from the second floor of the inn, he could have seen Jordan huddled between the trunks. All the swindler had to do was tell Riggs to get on that train.
Taking out Peter’s slate, Libby wrote, “Edward Dexter.”
“Here? On this train?” Peter asked.
When Libby nodded, shadows leaped into Peter’s eyes.
Every ten miles the train came to one of the towns spaced out across the prairie. Each time the train stopped, Riggs stepped down to the platform. He kept an eye on the doors of the baggage car until the train started up again.
With each stop Libby grew more nervous. Before long they would reach Springfield. Jordan and his father would be forced to leave the car in plain sight.
“Are you sure Jordan knows he’s in danger?” Peter asked.
“I’m sure,” Libby wrote on the slate. “He must have seen Riggs during the fire.”
But what if Jordan didn’t? Just the idea that he might not know about the slave trader overwhelmed Libby.
In that moment she heard the squeal of brakes. As the train clanked to a stop, Libby’s heart leaped. Another fire? Here, too, the tall prairie grass looked tinder dry.
This time people peered from windows on both sides of the train. When Libby leaned out, she saw nothing unusual ahead of them. Looking back, she realized they had just crossed a small trestle that bridged the dry bed of a stream.
In that instant Libby caught a movement—Jordan jumping down from the baggage car. Running close to the stopped train, he slipped behind the last car. Moments later, he rolled down the bank and disappeared from view under the bridge.
Filled with relief, Libby breathed deep. Whatever had caused the train to stop had given Jordan just enough time. Now, if they could only go on before Riggs realized that Jordan was gone.
“Did you see that?” Peter whispered. “Jordan got away!”
Soon the conductor walked through the car. “We struck a cow wandering across the track. The cowcatcher protected the engine from damage. We’ll have the tracks cleared in another minute.”
Nervously twisting the cloth of her skirt, Libby waited. At last she felt the lurch of the train as it began to move. Chugga, chugga, chugga, faster and faster, the train went. When Libby finally leaned back, Peter whispered, “Jordan’s daddy?”
“He’ll leave soon,” Libby wrote, believing Micah Parker would wait to see his son off the train.
At the next town, Libby looked back the moment the train stopped. To her dismay Riggs again stepped down to the platform. As he watched, then boarded the train again, Libby knew there were only a few more towns until Springfield. When was Micah going to make his move?
Again Libby watched at the next village. Again she did not see Micah jump out, but Riggs stepped down on the platform. After a moment, he started toward the baggage car, as though to check whether Jordan and his father still rode on the train.
Suddenly Micah Parker leaped to the ground. As if wanting to be sure that Riggs saw him, Micah ran across the platform in full view of every onlooker.
“Stop!” Riggs cried out.
Instead, Micah raced toward the side of the station.
“Stop!” Riggs shouted. “Runaway slave!”
The man shifting baggage from the wagon to the train turned to look. A passenger wearing a tall hat watched Micah flee. Women quietly pulled their children closer to themselves.
When no one moved to help him, Riggs broke into a run. It was so unlike the man that it surprised Libby. Throwing aside all his usual dignity, he raced after Jordan’s father. As Micah Parker disappeared around the corner of the station, Riggs was gaining on him.
Moments later the baggage handler
finished unloading his cart. The engineer gave a warning whistle.
“Riggs will come back to the train,” Libby wrote to Peter.
But Riggs didn’t. Instead, the train pulled out of the station without him.
Libby and Peter watched through the window until the town disappeared from view. One moment Libby believed with all her heart that Jordan’s daddy had gotten away. The next moment she felt deeply afraid.
“What if Micah Parker stumbled and fell?” she wrote to Peter. “What if men who want reward money heard Riggs shout?” Again Micah had protected his son—this time by jumping out before Riggs discovered that Jordan was gone.
The rest of the way to Springfield Libby thought about it. With each clickety-clack of the wheels she wondered, Did Jordan’s father get away? Or has he been captured again?
When the train pulled into the Springfield station, Libby peered out the window until she saw the swindler climb down. Then she and Peter stepped into the aisle.
A woman carrying a large basket was in front of them, walking slowly toward the exit. Libby followed close behind, at the same time trying to keep a watch out the window. When Edward Dexter headed for a line of buggies, Libby felt sure he was going to hire one of them.
“Please, may we go past you?” Libby asked the woman who still blocked the aisle.
By the time Libby and Peter reached the steps, the swindler had climbed into a hack—a hired buggy with two horses. As the driver lifted the reins, Libby took a good look at him. She and Peter raced toward the last remaining hack, but a businessman reached the driver before them.
Filled with disappointment, Libby dropped down on a bench next to Peter. When the ten-year-old pushed his blond hair out of his eyes, it reminded her of Caleb. Where are you, Caleb? she wondered. How long will it take you to travel to Brighton, then north again to Springfield?
However long it took, she and Peter couldn’t wait. It was up to them to find the swindler before he disappeared completely. Before he hides the money, never to be found again!
Libby didn’t know where the thought came from, but she felt sure about one thing. The swindler wasn’t going to carry the money forever. Somehow, somewhere, he would put it in a safe place—a place where he could return and get the money when he wanted.
Libby took Peter’s slate. “How can we find the swindler?”
“The way Riggs found us,” Peter answered.
Libby stared at him, then wrote. “Why didn’t I think of that?”
In Alton Riggs saw us take the stage. When the driver came back, he asked questions. Knowing we went as far as the school for girls, it wouldn’t be hard for Riggs to make the leap to Brighton. The village was a well-known haven for slaves.
Suddenly Libby knew what to do. “We’ll wait around,” she wrote to Peter. “We’ll stay right here until that hack driver comes back.”
Libby wasn’t surprised when Peter simply nodded, as though he had already figured that out.
The time passed slowly, but at last passengers, freight, and hack drivers began arriving for the next train. Among the drivers was the one the swindler had hired.
“We need to find Mr. Dexter,” Libby told him. “We saw him leave with you but couldn’t catch you in time. Can you take us to where he went?”
“It’s quite a ways,” the driver answered. “Do you have enough money?”
Libby’s heart sank. She had very little left after what she had given toward the stagecoach ride. But when she took out what she had, Peter offered his own coins.
“It’s enough,” the driver said. “Climb in.”
After driving for a time, the hack driver entered a cemetery. As the horses followed a road along the top of a hill, the driver told them, “It was somewhere around here.”
From here the hill dropped away in different directions. Between the steep hills, narrow valleys, or ravines, lay like creases in the land. Here and there were gravestones.
But the driver was still looking around. “This doesn’t seem quite right,” he said. Calling “Giddyup!” to the horses, he drove on.
Before long the driver stopped again, this time next to a smoothed-out patch of dirt not far from the road. “Maybe this is the place,” he said.
“We need a shovel,” Peter whispered to Libby.
Spotting nearby trees and bushes, Libby marked the place in her mind. “Did Mr. Dexter get out here?” she asked. When the driver shook his head, Libby asked if he knew where Mr. Dexter stayed while in town.
“He had me leave him off near the square.”
Where he could take another hack, Libby thought. Or walk in any direction.
“Do you want me to take you somewhere?” the driver asked.
Remembering how they had been followed before, Libby knew better than to ask for the Colored Baptist Church. “We’d like to see the State of Illinois Capitol Building,” she said.
The next time the driver stopped, it was before a large, beautiful building. A number of steps led up to the tall stone pillars that supported the roof over the entry. Above that, centered on the larger roof, were more pillars and a great dome. The building looked strong and sure, something Libby needed in her life right now. Seeing it, she felt better.
When they found no hack drivers at the square, Libby took the slate and wrote quickly to Peter. “Why do you think the swindler went to the cemetery?”
“To bury the money,” Peter answered.
“In broad daylight?”
“If no one was around.”
Libby remembered the patches of dirt. Though the driver was uncertain about which patch, he had been sure of one thing. The swindler had been interested in places where the ground had been dug up.
“If we need a shovel, so does Dexter,” Libby wrote. “And something to bury the money in.”
“He probably bought a chest and went back with a different hack driver,” Peter said.
By now both Libby and Peter were so hungry they felt they hadn’t eaten in weeks. Looking around, they found a bench outside a barber shop. As they finished the sandwiches Frances had given them, a tall thin man with dark brown hair and a stovepipe hat came out.
Suddenly he stopped right in front of Libby and Peter. Taking off his hat, he flipped through the papers he carried inside. Then, looking as if he had what he needed, the man walked on again.
It made Libby curious. “How come that man carries papers in his hat?” she asked the barber who came outside.
“Why, that’s Mr. Lincoln,” he said. “Abraham Lincoln. When he was a young postmaster in New Salem, he carried letters that way. Kept them safe, he figured. Now that he’s a lawyer, he carries important papers the same way.”
As Libby watched, Mr. Lincoln crossed the street to the Capitol building. “Do you know him?” she asked.
“Yes’m. I’m Billy Florville. Mr. Lincoln is my friend.”
“Can you tell me something else?” Libby asked. “We need to find the Colored Baptist Church in Springfield.”
“The members meet in a house,” Billy said. “You might find someone home right now.”
When the barber gave directions, Libby and Peter discovered they didn’t have far to go. As they drew close to the house, Peter looked down the street. Excitement in his face, he cried, “It’s Jordan!”
CHAPTER 19
Trick Or …?
When Jordan saw Libby and Peter, he broke into a run. “My daddy?” he asked the moment they met. “What happened to him?”
“He left the train two stops after you,” Libby said. “He waited as if he wanted to make sure Riggs saw him. Then he raced across the platform. Riggs followed him.”
“Did Daddy get away?”
In the hours since Libby’s last sight of Micah Parker, she had kept hoping that he escaped. She wanted to pass that hope along to Jordan. Yet Libby knew she had to be honest.
“The last I saw him, your daddy was ahead.” Libby tried to push away her next thought. And Riggs was running fast.
Aft
er rolling down the bank next to the railroad tracks, Jordan had hid under the bridge, then walked to the nearest town. There he used his pass to climb aboard the next train for Springfield. When Libby told him about the swindler, Jordan’s eyes lit up.
“Let’s get a shovel and see what we can find.”
When they knocked on the door of the home used as a meeting place for the Colored Baptist Church, the woman who lived there welcomed them in. Jordan poured out his story.
“We’ll be on the lookout for your daddy,” the woman promised him. “Now, what do you need? A shovel? Some food? A lantern? It’ll be dark soon.”
Libby smiled. It felt good to have someone watching out for them.
When she and Jordan and Peter were ready to leave, the woman told them, “If you need a place to stay tonight, just come on back.”
As they walked the few miles to the cemetery, the sun dropped lower and lower in the sky. By the time they got there, the trees and tombstones cast long shadows across the ground.
Peter took one look at the spot the hack driver showed them and said, “This isn’t the right place.”
“Why?” Libby wrote on the slate.
“The swindler would be afraid to be inside a cemetery.”
“Afraid?” The idea seemed strange to Libby. “A cemetery should be special for people who have loved ones buried there.”
Then she remembered. Girls in her Chicago school thought that ghosts haunted cemeteries. Libby felt sure the girls were wrong.
“Let’s look around,” Jordan said. Already he had been doing just that—looking over his shoulder often, as if he expected Riggs or Dexter to be lurking behind a tree.
But Peter led them outside the cemetery. Before long, they found just what they were looking for—a small square of ground that had been dug up.
As the sky turned orange and red in the west, Jordan began digging. Before long, the shovel clinked against metal.
“That’s it!” Jordan cried. “A good, hard box with lots of money!”
Soon Jordan had all the dirt off the top. He and Peter pulled up a small black chest.
The Swindler's Treasure Page 15