When Libby moved forward to catch a better look, she realized that Mr. Weaver had come out on the front porch.
“Good morning,” Caleb called to him, politely lifting his hat. “We’re having a bit of trouble.”
“I see that.”
“My boy says he knows how to fix it,” Caleb said. “The nut came off the wheel.”
“I keep nuts on hand,” Mr. Weaver answered. “Maybe I can help you out.” Then he glanced toward Paul. “Come to think of it, my family and I are about to sit for a picture. The peddler will have exactly what you need.”
When Caleb called to him, Jordan started up the long driveway. With bowed head and hunched shoulders, Jordan shuffled as he walked.
“I say, hurry up!” Caleb called to him. “We haven’t got all day!”
The shuffle and bowed head made Jordan seem helpless and weak. For an instant he stumbled, then caught his balance. Picking up his pace, he kept on.
By the time Jordan reached the peddler’s wagon, Libby, Caleb, and Paul stood on the side away from the house. When Paul opened a drawer as though he was looking for a nut, Libby spoke quickly.
“Mr. Weaver has sold Zack,” she told Jordan. “His new owner is coming this morning.”
Jordan moaned. “He be comin’ this morning?”
Libby nodded. “I heard Mrs. Weaver arguing with her husband.”
Jordan’s eyes blazed with anger. “Does Momma know?”
“I told her last night,” Libby said.
“Then we leaves right now,” Jordan answered.
“Right now?” Caleb asked. “It’s broad daylight. If Zack is sold, maybe we can go where he is and steal him away tonight.”
“Or maybe we can’t,” Jordan said. “Where’s Zack now?” he asked Libby.
“In the field behind the house. I think Rose is in a cabin.”
“My sister Serena?”
“We haven’t seen her yet this morning,” Libby said. “Probably in the house.”
“Then we leaves now,” Jordan said again.
“With a broken wagon?” Then Libby remembered. There was something that would make the rescue even more impossible. “I heard Mrs. Weaver tell your momma to take a basket of food to a neighbor.”
“She did?” Jordan grinned as though he wanted to laugh out loud. “Then we is sure enough ready to go!”
“Jordan, are you certain about this?” This time it was Paul who warned him. All of them knew that most fugitives hid during the day and traveled at night.
Jordan’s grin faded. His eyes were serious as he looked into the peddler’s face. “Deep down here—” He thumped his chest. “And right here—” He tapped his forehead. “I know what the Lord be saying. He tells me, ‘Go now!’”
“Then you tell us what you want us to do,” Paul answered.
Before Jordan could say another word, Libby heard people talking on the porch. When she looked around the wagon, Mr. Weaver and Melanie were there, as well as a slave setting chairs on the lawn. Snatching up her pencils and paper, Libby hurried over.
When Mrs. Weaver came out, she carried Randolph. Glancing toward the road, she noticed the wagon. “What’s wrong?” she asked her husband.
As Mr. Weaver explained, Caleb and Jordan came around the peddler’s wagon. When Caleb started toward the house, Jordan shuffled along several steps behind him.
Mrs. Weaver called back into the house. “Serena!”
A moment later Jordan’s sister appeared. With her head bowed and her gaze on the ground, Serena stepped out on the porch.
“Get these men some water from the well,” Mrs. Weaver told her.
As Serena turned, her gaze lifted. For one instant she glanced toward Jordan. In that moment glory filled her eyes. Then Serena’s face went blank.
“If you wants water for the horses, the well’s back here,” she said and started around the house.
“I’ll wait,” Caleb told the Weavers. “My boy will take care of everything.”
As Libby guided the family members into their places, Caleb leaned against one of the white pillars on the porch. For Mrs. Weaver, Libby chose a chair in the center. Standing behind his wife, Mr. Weaver. Young Randolph in Mrs. Weaver’s lap. Jonathan on the ground on the left. Melanie standing on the right.
At first Caleb’s presence made Libby even more nervous. It was bad enough trying to do something she knew she couldn’t do. But to pretend that nothing earthshaking was happening made it even worse.
Where do I begin? Libby didn’t even know whether to work fast or slowly. How much time does Jordan need?
With Caleb standing behind the family, Libby could see him every time she looked up. Oh, Caleb, don’t watch me! Libby felt uncomfortable enough as it was.
Then as she glanced toward Caleb, he lifted his hat and grinned. For all the world he looked like someone enjoying a pleasant morning. But to Libby his smile seemed to say something more—You’re doing okay.
Raising her head, Libby tossed her long red hair. All right, Caleb Whitney. You and Jordan are putting on a good act. God will help me too.
As though she had drawn a family picture a hundred times before, Libby stood back, checking their positions. Yes, she had it right. Behind the family, the tall pillars on the front porch reached up to the second floor and the roof.
Because she had found it easy to draw Randolph, Libby started with him. She decided she would sketch only the face and shoulders of each person. If she put them close together, she could show the house in the background.
I can do this, Libby told herself. She felt sure it was God’s power she was sensing.
But then she started to draw Jonathan. When Libby smiled at him, he scowled. He also had trouble sitting still.
I don’t blame you, Jonathan, Libby wanted to say. If it were my best friend being sold, I’d be upset too. I’m upset not even knowing Zack.
While looking up at the family, then down at the easel, Libby kept an eye on Melanie. More than once the girl glanced back at Caleb as if trying to catch his attention.
As Libby started to draw Mrs. Weaver, Jordan shuffled back to the wagon. Her pencil moving swiftly, Libby sketched the outline of the woman’s head, then filled in her face. Partway through, Libby felt glad she could hide the puffiness around Mrs. Weaver’s eyes. Instead, Libby drew the warm, gentle look Mrs. Weaver had when she came to the peddler’s wagon.
Soon, in the difficulty of what she was trying to do, Libby forgot even Caleb. If I can just keep the family here long enough. If I can give Jordan the time he needs.
When Mr. Weaver looked beyond Libby, she turned, wondering what was going on. Jordan was placing a jack under the axle of the wagon.
Libby had drawn Melanie’s chin and eyebrows when she heard someone singing.
Singing? Instantly Libby grew still. How could Jordan sing at a time like this? But there it was. Libby recognized his voice.
Once again she stole a glance toward the end of the driveway. Kneeling on the ground, Jordan had set the wheel in place. But Libby clearly heard his words.
Steal away, steal away,
steal away to Jesus!
Inwardly Libby gasped at Jordan’s daring. Steal away? Sneak away?
“Listen!” Mrs. Weaver held up her hand. “Caleb’s boy is singing while he works.”
Steal away, steal away home,
I ain’t got long to stay here.
Behind the family, gray clouds raced across the sky. Afraid to move, afraid that anything she might say would be wrong, Libby looked down at her easel and pretended to draw. “Listen for a signal,” Paul had told Serena.
From far off, somewhere in the distance, Libby heard the roll of thunder. Jordan’s voice grew stronger.
My Lord calls me,
He calls me by the thunder;
The trumpet sounds withina my soul;
I ain’t got long to stay here.
Then, as quietly as Jordan had begun, his voice faded away. When Libby dared look at Mrs. Weaver, tears s
tood in the woman’s eyes.
“Isn’t that beautiful?” she asked.
“Beautiful!” Her husband frowned. “Libby, let’s hurry this up.” Turning, Mr. Weaver shouted toward the house. “Serena!”
Moments later she appeared on the porch. “Yes, Massa.” Serena’s voice trembled, but her face gave no hint that she knew what was going on.
“Go and fetch your brother. Tell him to stop at the pump and wash up. Be sure he looks his best.”
“Yes, Massa.”
As Serena fled, Libby watched Mrs. Weaver. Her face white and still, she set her lips tightly, as though willing herself not to cry. But her arms tightened around young Randolph.
Libby started to shade in Melanie’s eyes. When she glanced toward Paul, he had hitched his horses to his peddler’s wagon. So he’s ready to leave at a moment’s notice.
Then from around the corner of the house came Jordan’s mother. With Rose in one arm and the handle of a basket of food over the other, Hattie started down the driveway.
“Where’s Hattie going?” Mr. Weaver asked.
“I told her to take food to the Lawrence family,” Mrs. Weaver answered. “Mrs. Lawrence is doing poorly.”
“Good thinking, Dorothy!” Mr. Weaver looked relieved. “I’m glad we’re not going to have a big scene.”
Again he turned to Libby. “I’ve got important business to tend to.”
As Libby nodded, she glanced down. In horror she saw her drawing of Melanie’s face. I forgot to change her eyes. She looks the way she is!
CHAPTER 14
Bloodhounds!
As Libby’s stomach tightened, her nervousness returned. She had no idea what to do to make Melanie look better. As though reflecting Libby’s mood, the air felt heavy with the gathering storm. Then Jordan started singing again.
Steal away, steal away,
steal away to Jesus!
Steal away, steal away home,
I ain’t got long to stay here.
The words calmed Libby enough to start drawing Mr. Weaver’s face. From where he stood leaning against the pillar, Caleb straightened.
“It looks as if my boy has our wagon ready,” he said. “I sincerely thank you for the help you’ve given us.” With a polite lifting of his hat, Caleb started down the driveway.
Forgetting herself, Libby stared after him. The wagon bed was level now, the wheel repaired. Jordan had turned the horses to face north, the direction from which they had come. Straw hat on his head, he sat on the high seat with the reins in his hands. The moment Caleb climbed up, the horses moved out.
“Libby, hurry along now,” Mr. Weaver said. “I’ve got important business to deal with.” Again he turned to the house. “Serena! Where is that girl?”
Moments after Mr. Weaver turned back to Libby, she saw Serena. In the field behind and to one side of the house, Serena carried four wooden buckets.
Buckets? Libby wondered. As she filled in Mr. Weaver’s eyes, her pencil broke. Libby snatched up another.
“Stop!” Mr. Weaver commanded. “This is nonsense, standing here like this. Libby, you don’t know what you’re doing!”
“How far are you, Libby?” Mrs. Weaver asked. “Please,” she said to her husband. “This is important. I want a family picture.”
As though she had not heard Mr. Weaver, Libby continued drawing. The next time she glanced up, she saw Zack carrying two of the buckets, Serena the other two. Side by side, they headed across the field toward the creek.
Curious now, Libby wondered what Serena had told the men in the field. Had she sent Zack on some unknown errand instead of back to the house? Beyond the open field, woods stretched off in the distance.
“Stop!” Mr. Weaver commanded again. “That’s enough!”
Impatience written in every line of his face, he crossed the lawn to where Libby stood. When he looked down at her drawing, he drew back in anger. “That’s supposed to be me? This is the most awful drawing I’ve ever seen!”
Melanie hurried forward to join her father. “Of course it’s not you, Daddy.”
Leaning close, Melanie stared at how Libby had drawn her. “That’s not how I look!”
Melanie’s creamy white skin flushed an angry red. “If I were an artist, I’d do great things to your red hair!”
Uh-oh! Libby thought. If her father forgets how I look, she’ll help him remember.
Still holding Randolph, Mrs. Weaver started toward Libby. But Jonathan went in the opposite direction, disappearing around the corner of the house.
Just then Paul motioned to Libby as though saying, “Come.”
But Mr. Weaver wasn’t done yet. “I will not pay for such a terrible picture!”
When Mrs. Weaver reached the easel, she looked down, studying the drawing. Again Paul motioned to Libby. “Come!”
With one quick movement Libby snatched the paper from the easel. Mr. Weaver stretched out his hand, but Mrs. Weaver was quicker. Stepping in front of her husband, she took the drawing from Libby.
“I hope you will accept my bracelet as payment for this drawing also,” she said.
Libby nodded. In all the times she had dreamed about being an artist, she had never imagined something this awful. Holding back her tears, she picked up her pencils and the easel. “Thank you for letting me try,” she said. “Thank you for giving me your time.”
As Libby hurried toward Paul, Mr. Weaver’s words haunted her. But then, like a gentle whisper, there was something Libby knew. Facing something hard isn’t the same as failing. I succeeded in giving Jordan time!
Near the wagon Mrs. Weaver caught up to Libby. “You will be a fine artist someday,” she said. A smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. “That is, if you aren’t so honest.”
The moment Libby climbed up to the high seat, Paul called out, “Giddyup!” Libby waved and called goodbye, but Mrs. Weaver’s smile was already gone. Pain filled her eyes.
Soon Paul’s horses turned into the main road in the direction Jordan had taken. While still in view of the farmhouse, Paul kept his horses at their usual pace.
“Where is Jordan’s family?” Libby asked.
“You’ll see,” Paul answered.
Instead, Libby saw Jonathan racing across the field toward the woods. In spite of his weight, he ran like a deer, bounding over the young corn.
“Look!” Libby told Paul. “Jonathan’s headed this way.”
The peddler’s face was grim. “I hope we can trust him.”
The moment the road passed into the woods, Paul looked back to be sure they couldn’t be seen from the house. Then he slapped the reins across the backs of his horses. Instantly they picked up their pace.
Just then Libby heard the clip-clop of horses coming toward them on the road ahead. Soon two horses and a shiny new wagon came into view. As if anxious about more than the gathering storm, the driver urged his horses on.
Not far from the creek, Paul slowed his team to avoid meeting on the bridge. Without changing his speed, the other man kept coming. Before long, the two wagons met with Paul going north, the other man south.
“That’s him,” Paul said.
“Zack’s new owner?” Libby asked.
“No doubt about it.”
Twisting around to look back, Libby crawled onto her knees. Through the small square opening in the back of Paul’s wagon, she watched the other wagon raise a cloud of dust, then disappear.
Soon after the peddler’s wagon passed over the bridge, Libby saw Serena and Zack crawl out from under the heavy timbers. On the far side of the creek, they climbed the bank of earth next to the bridge.
“There they are!” Libby exclaimed. “They used Jonathan’s hiding place!”
“Whoa!” Paul called to his horses.
The minute the wagon stopped, Libby started to climb down, but Paul told her to wait. “There’s more danger than you know.”
Throwing the reins into Libby’s hands, he grabbed a stout stick. “Hold the horses. Don’t get down.” Breaking
into a run, Paul headed back along the road. “Zack! Serena!” he called.
As the children crossed the bridge, Jonathan came out of the trees on the far side of the creek. With one look Jonathan changed direction, heading toward the other children. “Go, Zack!” he cried. “Hurry! Pa called out the dogs!”
Through the woods Libby heard their mournful baying—half bark and half howl. Running for their lives, Serena and Zack raced along the road toward Paul.
Jonathan ran after them, still shouting after Zack. “If you’re free, you can go fishing!”
For only a moment, Zack looked back. “When I catches that big fish, I is goin’ to tell him about you!”
As Zack and Serena raced toward Paul’s wagon, Jonathan whirled around, running back the way he came. Closer and closer came the baying of the dogs. A chill ran down Libby’s spine.
Then, where the trees thinned out, Libby saw the lead dog. At the head of the pack, he ran with his nose to the ground, picking up the scent. In a sharp voice Jonathan shouted a command.
Suddenly the bloodhound stopped. Again Jonathan gave the command. Reaching down, he grabbed the rope around the dog’s neck.
When the other dogs started to catch up, Jonathan called to them. Though they looked confused, the dogs obeyed. As they gathered around the lead dog, their baying turned to whines.
In that instant Zack slowed down and glanced back. With Jonathan holding the lead dog, Zack waved to him. Only then did Libby recognize the bloodhound. Jonathan’s pet!
Then Zack bounded on, following Serena. “Come with me,” Paul said as they reached him. Moments later he shut them into the back of his wagon.
With one leap, Paul climbed to the high front seat. Slapping the reins, he shouted at the horses. “Giddyup!”
Within a few minutes they reached the place where Paul and Libby had waited the afternoon before. Slowing the horses, Paul turned off the road into the woods. In the middle of the clearing, Caleb and Jordan were waiting for them.
The moment Paul stopped, Caleb opened the back door of the peddler’s wagon. Zack and Serena jumped down and raced for the farm wagon. Between the large trunk and the carpetbags lay a number of blankets. Standing near the back end, Jordan helped Serena into the wagon.
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