Pretending that nothing was wrong, Libby turned and walked on. Who is he? she wondered. The bars on the window hid enough of the man’s face, so she wasn’t sure.
As she headed for Swede Hollow, frightened thoughts filled her mind. Did I put the fiddle on the right shelf and leave the door the way I found it? Did I hide my excitement?
She had no way of being sure about anything. Her panic growing, Libby walked faster and faster. She was three blocks from the pawnshop when she heard a strange sound behind her.
Footsteps? No. The snow isn’t cold enough for that. Telling herself that she was being foolish, Libby pushed aside her uneasiness. Then she remembered. Slush. Would I hear someone walking in slush?
Each time she glanced over her shoulder, she found nothing unusual and hurried on. Finally she felt so uneasy that she whirled around. In the split second before a man stepped out of sight, Libby saw his face. The man I drew on the boat. Tall. Brown hair. Blue eyes. Cruel lines around his mouth. The man whose picture I put in the Christina’s safe. The man who probably searched my room. Mr. Trouble!
Libby gulped. The voices in the back room. So Peter was right! Mr. Trouble and the pawnbroker are working together!
Libby broke into a run. Why didn’t I bring Samson along?
Before long her side ached, and Libby knew she couldn’t make it to Swede Hollow. More than that, she didn’t want to lead Mr. Trouble to Annika’s house.
By now she was back on the street where she had purchased her art supplies. The general store was a welcome sight. I’ll be safe there! But just in case, someone needs to know where I am.
Close to the building was a line of snow where the sun didn’t reach. Tearing open her package, Libby grabbed a piece of charcoal. By the time she reached the door, she was ready. With one swift movement she reached down and drew a fish in the snow.
Once more she looked back. No one in sight. Libby ducked into the doorway. With a quick bound she was inside.
As she caught her breath, Libby looked around. The shopkeeper who helped her with art supplies was nowhere in sight. He had propped up a sign on the counter:
Please pick out what you need
I’ll return in fifteen minutes
Trusting soul, Libby thought. Maybe the people of St. Paul are so honest it doesn’t matter.
Then Libby realized something else. There’s no one here to protect me.
Her heart in her throat, Libby looked through the large panes of glass at the front of the store. Just then she saw Mr. Trouble come into view.
Like a rabbit fleeing from Wellington, Libby raced to the back of the room. Behind high shelves she stopped. A minute later the front door opened. Libby heard heavy footsteps crossing the store. Frantic now, she searched for a way to escape.
A door led to a back room. Libby turned the knob, and the door opened into total darkness. As far as Libby could tell, the room had no windows. Stepping inside, she left the door behind her cracked open to the light.
Closer and closer the footsteps came. Is it Mr. Trouble?
Next to the partly opened door, Libby pressed against the wall and looked into the other room. In the shadows away from the front windows, she saw a movement. Then she heard the scratch of a match. A hand lifted the glass and lit the lamp on a low table. It’s Mr. Trouble, all right!
The man had his own secret hideaway. High shelves, shovels, and rakes hid him from the rest of the store. As Libby wondered what to do, she heard more footsteps.
Soon the pawnbroker entered the small area. He carried a violin case. Carefully he set it on the table with the lamp.
Libby felt sure the case was the one she had taken from the pawnbroker’s closet. Inside was the violin made from wood more beautiful than anything Libby had ever seen. With all her heart, she believed that violin belonged to Franz Kadosa.
Then the pawnbroker spoke. “Where is he?”
Where is who? Libby wondered and hoped the shopkeeper would return.
“He’ll be here in a minute,” Mr. Trouble answered.
“Always wants us to do his dirty work,” the pawnbroker complained.
A third man is coming? Libby felt weak with dread.
Five minutes. Ten minutes passed. But when the man appeared, Libby was relieved. From her hiding place in the back room, she saw his face. Annika’s friend, Mr. White. In spite of her dislike for him, Libby felt sure Mr. White would help her.
As Libby started to step out, she noticed the man’s black coat and the line of his black hat. Libby moved back. Why does it seem familiar?
With a jolt, Libby knew. The man at the fiddler’s concert. The man standing along one side of the Christina’s cabin, wearing a long black coat and a black hat. Shadow Man!
It would have taken only one minute to leave his hat and coat in his stateroom, then walk over to meet Annika!
Now Mr. White walked to the table and the violin case.
“Brought it here like you said,” the pawnbroker told him. “I’m expecting an extra cut for doing it. No one saw you carry it through the streets, if that’s what you were worried about.”
As though barely hearing the pawnbroker, Mr. White nodded. “I’ll wrap it in furs when I leave this miserable climate.”
Leaning down, Mr. White moved the violin case closer to the lamp. As he opened the cover, the light reflected up on the left side of his face.
Libby gasped. A red mark just below his jawline!
She edged back from the doorway. As clearly as if it were yesterday, she remembered the August day the violin was stolen. The hurried footsteps through a cargo area, the thief had probably explored in case he ever needed it. The sound of a door opening and closing. The empty deck on the side away from the gangplank.
The thief had hurried along that deck. He had turned the corner to reach Mr. Oliver White’s trunk. A trunk large enough to slip a violin case inside! All he had to do was catch his breath and stand still!
Libby’s thoughts raced on. So Mr. White hid the violin in his own trunk, then in the pawnshop. If someone found it there, Mr. White wouldn’t be blamed for the theft. No wonder he decided not to sell the violin. He’s waiting to use it himself! And the pawnshop owner brought it here to the general store.
Remembering Annika’s words to Pa was the most upsetting of all. “We have a lot in common,” she had said about Mr. White. “We both like music.” What if Annika had let herself be swept away by Mr. White’s money and good looks? Instead, she wanted to marry a man of God!
As Libby thought only about getting away, the pawnbroker spoke. “Where’s the girl?”
“In the back room,” Mr. Trouble answered.
“Good. Then she’s trapped.”
Trapped! A cold chill went down Libby’s spine. Filled with terror, she wondered if she could move. Then she stretched out her hands and felt her way through an open space in the darkness. There has to be a back door! But please, God, tell someone I need help!
Step by slow step, Libby edged her way past shapes that would clatter with one wrong touch. Don’t make a sound.
A moment later, Libby stumbled across something. As she reached out to catch herself, she felt the fur of an animal. A scream rose in her throat.
Libby clapped her hand over her mouth. Standing there in the dark, she started to shake. Then she began to pray. Oh, God, forgive me. Forgive me for not taking Samson along.
Waiting, Libby listened for a sound from the front room. Again she prayed. Please, Lord, lead me out of the dark. Help me be strong in You.
In that moment she remembered Pa taking her hand. Holding her hand in his, he had given her Ma’s cross. Pa’s hand felt big compared to her own. It’s that way with God.
Standing there in the dark, caught between three men and the fur of some unknown animal, Libby told herself again, It’s that way with God.
As Libby’s head cleared, she realized that the animal hadn’t moved. Again she reached out. This time when she touched the fur, she felt her way across it. Even
in the dark she knew what it was. One of the tightly packed bundles of fur stolen from the warehouse!
Hands out, Libby started walking again. When she bumped against the back wall, she felt her way until she found a door, then the knob.
The door swung open to a third room. To Libby’s relief it had two windows and a door. Once again she could see!
No longer could Libby hear the men’s voices. Eager now, she moved quickly to the outside door. A strong latch held in place by a big padlock!
Seeing it, Libby felt sick. “She’s trapped,” the pawnbroker had said. For a moment Libby stared at the door she could not open. When she tested the windows, she found they were nailed shut. Worse still, there were bars on the outside.
Libby groaned. Filled with despair, she sank to the floor.
CHAPTER 22
Eagles’ Wings
Libby had sat there a full minute before she realized it was ground she sat upon, not a floor. So this is a shed, she thought. An added-on shed, not part of the rest of the building.
The thought gave her hope again. On her hands and knees she crawled around the outside wall, looking for any possible way out. When she found it, she hardly believed it herself.
At the exact place where the wall met the dirt floor, she saw light, then a hole. A hole made by an animal, Libby thought and backed away.
Almost at once she returned to it, knowing it was her only hope. Can I manage to dig my way out?
Libby looked around. In the light of the window, she found a strong stick and started making the hole larger.
She had barely begun when she heard sounds from the front of the store. A yapping dog. Angry voices. A dog barking again. Wellington!
Libby could imagine him now. Wellington darting away from the men who would catch him. Wellington circling around, coming close, streaking off. The small dog barking at his big enemies. How had he gotten into the store?
Then Libby remembered Wellington sniffing his way after a rabbit. Following that rabbit wherever the trail went. That dog will find me! He’ll lead the men right to me before I get out!
Libby chopped frantically at the dirt. The noise was coming closer now. Wellington’s spindly legs were crossing the floor of the middle room.
In the next instant, he reached her. At the hole in the outside wall, he began digging. Dirt flew out behind his paws. The hole grew bigger and bigger.
As the terrier slipped through, Libby glanced around. The flickering light of a lantern threw shadows on a wall of the room behind her.
Then she heard voices. Men’s voices. Angry voices coming closer and closer.
Desperate now, Libby dropped onto her stomach. When she couldn’t make her way through, she twisted onto her back. Digging in with her heels, she wiggled and turned. Finally she squeezed through the hole.
Outside, Libby scrambled up, then caught Wellington. With all her strength she held him in her arms. With her hand around his muzzle, she ordered, “Shush!” Then she crept along the back of the building until she came to a side street.
Without making a sound, Libby hurried to the front side of the building. Near the entrance, she saw fresh footprints in the snow. The smaller ones belonged to Peter. The larger ones were Caleb’s.
Hardly daring to breathe, Libby crept close to the door. To her surprise Wellington did not bark, but Libby knew it wouldn’t last.
Soon she heard voices from inside. One man talked, and Caleb answered.
Caleb! Someone caught him? Libby felt sick. In four and a half years with the Underground Railroad, he had always escaped from slave catchers. How did he get caught now?
Startled, Libby drew back, even more frightened than when she was trapped.
Caleb got caught because of me. He was afraid for me.
Her hand still around Wellington’s muzzle, Libby crept away. The dog wiggled and squirmed, clearly upset. It took all Libby’s strength to hang on.
It took her a moment to remember where the police station was. Then Libby walked as fast as she could. Close to the station, she let Wellington down. “Go find Peter!” The dog streaked away.
In two minutes, Libby had explained to the police. All of them had seen her drawing of Mr. Trouble. As they hurried off, she followed close behind.
Moving without sound, the policemen entered the store. A short time later, they led the three men away.
“The shopkeeper of the general store?” Libby asked Caleb when it was all over. “Did he know he was hiding stolen property? The furs that were probably taken from the building by the wharf?”
Caleb shook his head. “He probably thought the furs belonged to Oliver White. I heard Mr. White offer to close up for the day. He told the shopkeeper he could go home.”
That made Libby curious. “The crooks had another store—the pawnshop. Why did they meet in this one?”
“For some reason they needed to use the building. The way it sounded, they had planned their biggest theft yet.”
In the late afternoon light, Libby saw relief in Caleb’s eyes. Yet as the three of them walked to Annika’s, it was Peter, not Caleb, who told Libby what happened.
“When you didn’t come to Annika’s, we went looking for you. Caleb said you didn’t want him along. He figured that meant you would buy art supplies, so he knew where to look. We saw your sign of the fish and went inside. Caleb heard one of the men talking about how you snooped around the pawnshop.”
“And your dog?” Libby asked.
“When the men caught us, I used my secret signal to send Wellington after you. He’s a hero, isn’t he?”
Libby smiled. “Yes, Wellington is a hero,” she signed. Motioning with her hands, she dug with all her might to show how the terrier had dug out the hole. “He’s not a mutt!”
Pointing to Peter, Libby signed again. “You’re a hero too. You taught Wellington to obey you!”
Peter beamed with pride. “I told you he was a good dog.”
Libby smiled, but Caleb still did not speak. Libby wondered about it.
Then Peter said, “In two days it’s Thanksgiving! We can give the fiddler his violin then!”
The next morning, Caleb and Libby walked into St. Paul to meet Jordan. As the three of them started back to the Christina, Libby glanced ahead. In a yard close to where they would pass was a tall, strong-looking boy with a snowball in his hand. Again and again he smoothed the ball, rubbing and packing it tight. Libby felt sure it was no longer snow but a chunk of ice as hard as a rock.
In a low voice, Caleb spoke. “He’s looking for trouble.”
“I see him,” Jordan said.
A moment later the boy disappeared. As Libby, Caleb, and Jordan drew close, they watched the yard, the house, and a large oak with a thick trunk.
Suddenly a snowball whizzed out toward Jordan’s head. Jordan saw it coming and ducked.
Libby gasped. Caleb and Jordan headed for the tree.
Just then the boy stepped out. In his hand he held another ice ball. On the ground beside him lay a mound of ammunition waiting to be used. But Jordan walked straight up to the boy.
Two feet away Jordan stopped. “Why did you do that?”
The boy sneered. “Because of who you are.”
His fists clenched, Jordan took another step toward the boy. Glaring down at him, Jordan met the boy’s gaze. “There’s two of us bigger than you.”
“I’m not scared. I’ll take on both of you. And I’ll win.”
“No,” Jordan said. “You won’t win.”
He straightened, standing tall. Then he uncurled his fingers and walked away.
He walked with his eyes on the boy so he wouldn’t be hit by another ice ball.
Two blocks later, Jordan finally spoke. “I did it!” he exclaimed as if he were the most surprised person alive. “I walked away! I didn’t have to prove myself to him.”
The next day Micah Parker brought his family by sleigh from St. Anthony. As Serena and the others came on board the Christina, Libby knew that all of t
hem truly had become one big family.
A few minutes later, Franz walked up the gangplank. When he took off his coat, he still wore the tattered shirt, but now Libby felt sure she knew what it meant. Franz wore ragged clothing to disguise who he was.
Today his step was even lighter than when he danced for the deckers. As everyone sat down in the Christina’s winter room, Franz looked around the circle. “Yesterday Caleb told me that you have a big surprise for me. But first, I want to tell you my story.
“Before I came here today, I went to the jail. Two of the men would not talk to me. But it was Oliver White I wanted to meet. At the concert, a man in the shadows seemed familiar. I knew if he was someone from my days in Vienna, he could betray me.”
“Betray you?” All along, Libby had felt sure there was someone the fiddler could not trust.
“My real name is not Kadosa. In my homeland of Hungary I am part of a noble family. They could not understand why I wanted to study the violin. But my music is here.” Franz laid his hand on his heart.
“In the last revolution, my family lost our cause and fell out of favor with the rulers. Some of my loved ones died. Others fled to America.”
“The family near Nicollet,” Libby said.
Franz nodded. “At first, I thought I could stay in Hungary. Then I learned that I couldn’t. When I needed to escape, my wife and children went into hiding. From one hiding place to the next, they worked their way to the border. Now they hide in a neighboring country, waiting for word from me. That is why I did not tell my secrets. I need to protect them.”
“And you needed to learn if you could trust us,” Caleb said.
“You knew it was a risk to play for first-class passengers, didn’t you?” Pa asked.
“I wondered if some of them had traveled in Europe and could recognize me.”
“Is that why you use German words?” Libby asked.
“If I spoke Hungarian, a person who understood the language would know where I am from.”
Libby was still curious. “How would Oliver White know you?”
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