Escape Into the Night

by Lois Walfrid Johnson

  But Jordan shook his head no. “If you find Momma, she won’t know if she kin trust you. She’ll be feared to come.”

  “Riggs could have taken a faster boat,” Caleb warned him. “He might already be in Burlington, looking for you.”

  The risk seemed to make no difference to Jordan. “I gots to find Momma myself.”

  Caleb sighed. “You know what the fugitive slave law says. A slave owner can form a posse anywhere—even in a free state like Iowa. Riggs can hunt you down wherever you are.”

  A posse? Was that what I saw my first night in Burlington? Libby wondered.

  “I knows the danger, Massa Caleb.”

  “Master Caleb?” Caleb leaned forward as though trying to get Jordan to look at him. “I don’t feel right about having you call me that. Will you just call me Caleb?”

  Silence fell between them as Jordan seemed to think about it. “It be mighty hard,” he said finally. “But I kin try.”

  “Good!” Caleb exclaimed. “Now you said you know the danger.”

  “Yes, sir.” Jordan stopped. For the first time his gaze met Caleb’s. “Yes, Caleb. I knows the danger, but the Lord, He is my protection.”

  With that Caleb no longer argued. “Then we’ve got three days. Captain Norstad says it’ll take that long to fix the paddlewheel. We need to be back by the third night so he can make up for lost time.”

  Three days, Libby thought. Right now it seemed forever. What could three days mean to Jordan? What if he found his mother and his sisters and his brother? But for Pa, wanting the early spring trade on the river, three days was a long time.

  When the Christina limped into Burlington, immigrants on board rushed to the railing. Like a mighty wave, they poured down the gangplank. For them, Burlington was the door to the new state of Iowa and territories beyond. Here they would make a home and begin a new life. Yet for Jordan, stepping off into Burlington might mean just the opposite—the loss of his hard-won freedom.

  From her stateroom Libby watched Caleb and Jordan mingle with the immigrants on the landing. As they started up the street, they walked apart from each other. Yet Caleb turned more than once, as though keeping an eye on Jordan.

  Seeing them, Libby made up her mind. Quickly she put paper and a pencil in a pocket of her skirt. At the door on one side of her room, she peered through the window. Samson lay on the deck just beyond.

  Without making a sound, Libby opened the door on the opposite side, slipped through, and closed it behind her. Carrying her shoes, she crept down the short ladder, making only a slight thud on the deck below. But when she tiptoed toward the next stairs, she heard the soft pad of paws crossing the deck behind her.

  Libby whirled around. “Samson! What are you doing here?”

  His mouth spread wide, Samson seemed to laugh at her. His tail wagged, as if saying, “We’re friends, aren’t we?”

  Libby groaned. “Okay, you can come. But only as far as the gangplank.”

  Samson lowered his head, as if promising to obey. When Libby reached the gangplank, she turned around. “Sit!”

  Samson dropped down on his haunches. His tail wagged, thumping against the deck.

  “Good dog!” Libby petted Samson’s head. “Good boy!” When Libby’s arm came within range, Samson licked it.

  “I know your tricks!” Libby exclaimed. As Samson started to wiggle, she commanded, “Stay!”

  As though grieved with the command, the dog tipped his head.

  “Stay!” Libby told him again. This time she backed away. The dog obeyed.

  When Libby reached the landing, she turned and looked back. Samson still sat on the deck. With sad dark eyes, he watched Libby leave him behind.

  Once on shore, Libby soon caught sight of Caleb and Jordan. They still walked apart from each other, with Jordan slightly behind Caleb. Libby stayed just far enough behind so that neither boy saw her.

  From the riverfront, the streets of Burlington rose upward in bluffs and hills. Several ravines—narrow valleys between the hills—divided the land. Through some of those ravines dirt roads brought farmers with their horses and wagons into town. Deep ruts showed where oxen had pulled covered wagons and pioneers westward.

  Around Libby, the streets seemed alive with excitement. Men, women, and children hurried in or out of stores. Now and then Caleb stopped at one of them to ask questions. Always Jordan waited outside, mingling with whatever people were around. When Caleb moved on, Jordan followed a short distance apart.

  Tall and straight, he walked as though sure of where he was going. More than once, heads turned as people watched him. It didn’t bother Libby until she spied a piece of paper lying on the ground. She snatched it up.

  $200.00 Reward.

  Runaway from the subscriber,

  a black boy named

  JORDAN PARKER,

  about 15 or 16 years of age, about six feet tall, last seen wearing tattered cotton shirt and faded blue pants. It is presumed he will make for Iowa or Illinois. I will give one hundred dollars if taken in the State of Missouri, or above reward if taken outside that State and held for me …

  As Libby glanced at the bottom of the notice, the name Riggs leaped up at her. Without reading the rest, she stuffed the paper in her pocket. Even if an abolitionist pulled down this notice, how many more were around? How many people had seen this description of Jordan? How many of them wanted the great amount of money he would bring?

  Filled with panic, Libby started walking as fast as she could without calling attention to herself. Jordan and Caleb needed to be warned.

  They were less than a block apart when Libby came up behind a man who looked familiar. A tall hat hid his face and hair. Short and wiry, he moved as if he would act quickly on anything he set out to do.

  Each time Caleb and Jordan stopped, the man also stopped. Whenever they walked on, he stayed just the right distance behind. Because Libby had done the same thing herself, she couldn’t help but notice.

  With growing uneasiness, she edged closer. The man wore an expensive suit and carried a cane with a gold handle.

  Seeing it, Libby’s stomach tightened with dread. The next time the man stopped, she edged forward enough to see his face. As though doing cartwheels, her stomach turned over.

  The slave trader, Riggs! Jordan’s owner!

  Then Riggs moved on. What’s he waiting for? Libby wondered in panic. Does he want more men to help him capture Jordan?

  When Riggs stopped to look into a store window, Libby hurried around him. Walking fast, she turned a corner soon after Jordan. The minute she was out of the trader’s sight, Libby broke into a run.

  “Where’s Caleb?” she asked when she caught up to Jordan.

  Jordan tipped his head toward a store.

  “Find him!” Libby commanded. “Hurry!”

  When Jordan stepped inside the store, Libby followed a few moments later. Near the front were several people. Caleb stood with them, as though waiting to talk to the storekeeper.

  When Caleb saw Libby and Jordan, he walked to the back of the store where there weren’t any people. Libby hurried after him while Jordan took a different aisle.

  “Caleb,” Libby whispered when she reached him.

  A frown crossed his face. “What are you doing here?”

  “There’s something you need to know.”

  “Go back to the Christina. You can’t follow us.”

  “Riggs is outside,” Libby answered as Jordan joined them.

  “Riggs?” Jordan’s eyes widened.

  Caleb wasn’t so quick to believe Libby. “Are you sure?”

  “I wouldn’t forget that man for anything.”

  “Then tell me what he looks like.” Caleb sounded as if he still didn’t trust her.

  Kneeling down, Libby pulled out pencil and paper and used the floor to make a sketch. With quick sure strokes she drew the tall hat, the deep lines of the man’s face, then his cruel eyes.

  “That’s Riggs, all right,” Caleb said.


  “And look!” Libby pulled out the reward notice.

  As Caleb read the notice, Jordan watched the front door. “There he is!” Instantly Jordan turned his back to Riggs.

  “Keep down, Libby,” Caleb warned. “Follow me.” As though nothing were wrong, Caleb walked along the aisle until he stood behind a pile of high boxes. Libby crawled after him.

  When Jordan reached the boxes, he, too, was hidden from Riggs. As Caleb dropped to his hands and knees, Jordan did the same. Together the three of them crept down the rest of the aisle and around the corner. Halfway into the next aisle, they came to the back door.

  Still crawling, Caleb pushed open the door and slipped through. Jordan and Libby were right behind.

  Once outside, they started running. Down one block, then up another. Through a backyard into another street. More than once, a dog barked or a cow mooed. But Caleb kept on, climbing the steep hills of Burlington until Libby was out of breath.

  By the time Caleb paused, they had made so many twists and turns that Libby no longer knew where she was. When she started to speak, Caleb pulled her between a barn and a shed. Jordan slipped into the shadows beside them.

  Moments later, running footsteps passed them on the street. Jordan peeked out. “It’s Riggs.”

  “Let’s double back,” Caleb whispered as the footsteps faded away.

  When Jordan nodded, the two boys moved as one person, with Libby following. Through the back alleys they ran, this time downhill. Within a block or two, they changed directions. The muscles in her legs aching, Libby followed them through a ravine and up a steep hill.

  When Caleb finally stopped, they stood at the back door of a large white house. Quickly Caleb knocked with an unusual pattern of raps. When there was no answer, he knocked again, using the same raps. It was a signal, Libby felt sure. Could she remember it?

  A moment later, the door opened. As Libby hurried inside, she glanced back. Just across the yard was a barn. Had someone slipped around a corner?

  I imagined it, Libby decided. With all the turns we took, how could anyone possibly follow us?

  Inside the house, a woman led them through a hallway. After the bright sunlight, Libby’s eyes needed to adjust to the dimmer light. But Caleb walked as if he knew every step of the way.

  “Why are we here?” Libby whispered.

  “To see Pastor Salter.”

  “Who’s he?”

  “He used to be my pastor,” Caleb told her. “When we lived in Burlington, we went to the Congregational church.”

  “So he’s against slavery,” Libby blurted out. “Is that where you learned to hate it?”

  Caleb shushed her. “You talk too much.”

  The woman led them into a room filled with books. An east window overlooked the city and the river.

  When Pastor Salter welcomed them, his face seemed warm with interest. Caleb introduced Libby and Jordan.

  “Well, Caleb,” the pastor said as they all sat down. “I haven’t seen you for some time. How are you?”

  As though talking with an old friend, Caleb grinned. “Still going up and down the Mississippi. Still finding things to do.”

  He tipped his head toward Jordan, and the Reverend Salter seemed to understand. “Were you followed?” he asked.

  Caleb nodded. “By a slave trader, Jordan’s owner. We might have slipped him, but I’m not sure. If he knows you, he’ll know where to look.”

  A smile lit the pastor’s eyes. “Yes, he’ll know where to look.”

  As Caleb told the story, Pastor Salter listened intently.

  “If your mother came through here, I haven’t seen her,” he told Jordan at last. “Do you want Caleb to go to Salem for you?”

  Jordan shook his head. “If he finds Momma, she’ll be feared to trust him.”

  “It’s very dangerous for you to go,” the pastor warned.

  “The Lord, He go ahead of me.” A light shone in Jordan’s black eyes, as though he felt no fear.

  “Yes,” the pastor answered, as though he, too, felt sure of that truth. “And you, Libby? Are you going with them?”

  Libby glanced at Caleb, expecting him to say no. Instead, Caleb said, “If you want to go, I’ll take you.”

  “You’ll take me?” Libby felt surprised. Maybe Caleb trusts me, after all, she thought.

  Then Caleb explained to Pastor Salter. “We don’t think the slave trader saw Libby. But if he follows her now, she’ll lead him to the Christina.”

  Libby’s hopes shattered into a million pieces. So you’re afraid I’ll give you away, Caleb Whitney. You still don’t trust me!

  Auntie Vi’s words haunted Libby. I’m ready to give up on that girl, she had said. Did Caleb feel the same way?

  Then Pastor Salter cut into Libby’s thoughts. “We’ve had so much traffic lately that one of my members is in the barn right now. He has a load of seed potatoes you can deliver in Salem.”

  As though expecting such a plan, Caleb grinned.

  He knows so much, Libby thought. He has to be part of the Underground Railroad.

  “I’ll have a message sent to your father,” the pastor told Libby. “He needs to know what’s going on. He’s captain of the Christina, right?”

  “How did you know?” Libby asked.

  “I respect your father. I value him as an able captain and as a man of God.”

  A man of God, Libby thought. What does that mean? She loved her father, but the way Pastor Salter talked, it sounded as if Pa was a saint. Libby had never thought of him in that way.

  “We’ll need boards, sir,” Caleb said, “and a hammer and nails.”

  “Take whatever you find in the barn,” the pastor answered. “But first, I want to pray for all of you.”

  When he bowed his head, Libby bowed hers too. Yet she peeked. Then Caleb and Jordan closed their eyes, and Libby decided she better do the same.

  In a strong voice the pastor prayed. “Lord, we ask thee to help Caleb and Jordan and Libby know the way they should walk. Give them light when they need light, and darkness when they need darkness. Clothe them with your disguise.”

  When Pastor Salter paused, Libby’s thoughts raced ahead. He prays as if he really expects God to do something!

  “Deliver them from their enemies,” the pastor finished. “We thank thee, Lord. Amen.”

  “Amen!” Jordan exclaimed. “Amen, amen!” He grinned at Caleb, then at Pastor Salter.

  As Caleb opened the back door, ready to go outside, Libby stopped him. “I think I saw someone as we came in,” she warned. “I wonder if there’s a man lurking around the barn.”

  CHAPTER 14

  The Big Test

  This time Caleb acted as though he believed Libby. Instead of walking straight to the barn, he led Libby and Jordan to the front door, then around the side of the house. There they waited and watched.

  When Caleb felt it was safe, he took them to the back side of the Salter barn. When Caleb opened a door, Libby and Jordan slipped inside.

  A farmer waited there, along with two horses hitched to a wagon. Caleb recognized one of the horses.

  “So old Dobbin’s still around!”

  “He’s given you rides since you were nine years old.” The farmer lowered his voice. “I thought you had given up this business.”

  “For a while.” As if the matter weren’t terribly important, Caleb winked. “I look different now, don’t I? Older and more mature.”

  When the farmer looked uneasy, Libby suspected that Caleb’s change of appearance might be wishful thinking. But why was it important that he looked different? Were there people from whom he needed to hide? People who might hurt him?

  Caleb went to work at once. At one side of the barn he picked up boards and a hammer and nails. He and the farmer pounded the boards together in an upside down U. Then Caleb and Jordan set the strange arrangement at the front of the wagon bed.

  As though used to taking such a place, Jordan climbed into the wagon and curled up. The U-shaped frame prot
ected his sensitive back. Caleb set down another board, and the U became a box. Then he and the farmer loaded the wagon with sacks of potatoes. When they finished, Jordan’s hiding place was covered.

  As Caleb and Libby climbed up on the high seat, the farmer stepped close. “I wish you weren’t doing this, Caleb. Take extra care. You mean a lot to us.”

  The sun was slanting westward as Caleb turned the horses into the street. Though Libby had a thousand questions, she managed to stay quiet until they reached the open road west of Burlington.

  She had just started to feel they had gotten safely away when she heard hoofbeats behind them. When she turned to look back, a curve in the road hid whoever followed.

  Caleb clucked to the horses. As they picked up their pace, he shifted the reins into one hand. With one quick movement he pulled off his cap, mussed up his hair, and stashed the cap back on his head. When he hunched his shoulders, Caleb looked like a different person—older, thinner, not like the fun person he was.

  Libby giggled, and he flashed her a grin. Yet she knew this wasn’t a game.

  “Look back, Libby,” he said quietly. “Has anything bounced out of place? Any sack of potatoes covering the boards over Jordan? Anything that would make a slave catcher suspect him?”

  Turning, Libby knelt on the seat to check every inch of the wagon bed.

  “Do you hear the hoofbeats, Jordan?” she asked softly.

  “Yes’m.” His voice came through a small opening in the board under the backside of the seat. “Don’t you worry none. I lies as still as these here potatoes.”

  As Libby sat down again, Jordan slid a piece of wood across the opening. Already the hoofbeats sounded closer. “Can you hurry the horses, Caleb?”

  “If I push them, whoever is following will know that I’ve got something to hide.”

  When they reached a crossroad, Caleb stopped the horses and listened. Again Libby glanced around, but she saw only trees. The hoofbeats had stopped.

  Caleb flicked the reins across the backs of the horses. As soon as they moved on, Libby heard hoofbeats behind them again. Though she wondered if it were her imagination, Caleb’s hands tightened on the reins.

  “Don’t look again, Libby.” He spoke in a low voice. “You have to pretend it doesn’t matter.”