Escape Into the Night Read online

  By the look on his face, Libby knew Caleb expected her to be angry. Instead, she had a question. When she asked it, her voice was soft and humble. “Caleb, will you teach me how to take care of my dog?”

  But even as Libby asked, she made herself a promise. I’ll show Caleb I’m not as helpless as he thinks!

  CHAPTER 5

  A Day with Caleb

  As the Christina steamed toward Saint Louis, Libby remembered her promise to herself. Somehow she would prove to Caleb that she was not a useless society girl.

  I’ll start by finding jean cloth, Libby decided. If Caleb sees me in that kind of dress, he’ll know I can take care of myself!

  As they came in sight of the city, Libby stood at the railing on the hurricane deck. Along the riverfront, whistles blew and bells clanged. Black smoke billowed up from the tall stacks. Everywhere Libby looked there seemed to be a steamboat easing into the levee, the sloped landing paved with cobblestones.

  When the deckhands threw out the lines, she hurried down to the gangplank. Already passengers crowded forward, ready to leave the Christina.

  “I want to go ashore,” Libby said to her father. “I need to buy a few things.”

  “You can go ashore,” he told her. “But I’m not able to go with you. I’ll ask Caleb to take you around.”

  “Oh, Pa!” Libby wailed. Not for all the world did she want Caleb to know what she was planning.

  “In some of the towns where we stop you can go alone,” her father answered. “But not in Saint Louis. It’s a big city, and I don’t want you getting lost.”

  “I can take care of myself,” Libby said quickly.

  Captain Norstad shook his head. “I don’t know if your aunt let you run around Chicago …”

  She didn’t let me, Libby thought. I just did. Not even to herself would Libby admit how often she had come close to big trouble.

  Her father’s eyes had that serious look again. “Libby, remember how you said you’d like a never-give-up family? A family like that takes care of one another.”

  Libby looked down. Even when I want my own way? She hadn’t known that something like this would be part of the package.

  “Okay,” she said finally. Once more, she met her father’s gaze. “I’ll go with Caleb.” But I don’t have to like it, she told herself.

  When Caleb started toward the gangplank, Captain Norstad called him. As Caleb hurried over, his face looked bright with expectation. Dressed in blue cotton pants and an open jacket, he no longer seemed like a cabin boy. Libby felt sure that he, too, felt excited about going ashore.

  But then Captain Norstad said, “Libby would like to do some shopping. I want you to take her.”

  Suddenly the light went out of Caleb’s face. “Does she need to leave right now?” Clearly Caleb did not like this assignment.

  “Right now,” Libby answered quickly before Captain Norstad could.

  Stalking past both Caleb and her father, she started down the gangplank. How can my own father embarrass me so? Being taken care of by a boy I cannot stand!

  When Libby reached the cobblestone levee, she glanced back. Caleb was right behind her, and her father stood watching them.

  “Bye, Pa!” Libby called with a quick wave. But when she turned to Caleb, the smile died on her lips. As she tossed her head, her long curls bounced around her shoulders.

  Horse-drawn wagons were everywhere on the levee. Like busy ants, men scurried back and forth, loading or unloading the boats. Some of the men carried large wooden crates on their shoulders. Others rolled barrels toward a gangplank. Between all the freight walked the passengers, making their way to or from the waiting boats.

  “I want to go by myself!” Libby told Caleb.

  “Believe me,” he answered, “I don’t like this any more than you do. I thought I’d have one day without you tagging along!”

  Libby glanced back. They were out of her father’s hearing. “Why don’t you just show me where the stores are? I’ll find my own way back.”

  But Caleb shook his head. “I can’t let you do that!”

  “You can’t? Who do you think you are? You’re not my boss!”

  Caleb sighed. “I’m afraid I am. I wish I weren’t.”

  “You can leave me at the first store,” Libby said.

  “No, I really can’t,” Caleb answered.

  “Yes, you can.” Libby used her most bossy voice. “I’m telling you to.”

  “I’ll lose my job if I leave you,” Caleb told her.

  Libby stared at him. That put things in a different light. From what Granny said, she and Caleb needed work. Much as Libby despised the boy, she couldn’t be that unfair.

  Libby sighed. “I guess that means we’re stuck with each other.”

  “For better or for worse.” A lopsided smile crossed Caleb’s face.

  “Mostly worse!” Having Caleb make a joke of it upset Libby even more. “I wanted to walk from store to store, to take my time looking at everything.”

  “I’m not going to spend all day shopping for girl things,” Caleb warned her. “Wherever I take you, you better hurry!”

  He set off, walking so fast across the cobblestones that Libby could barely keep up. Only when she crashed into a man carrying a barrel did Caleb stop.

  “What do you plan to buy?” he asked when they went on again.

  Libby didn’t want to tell him. “Just take me to a good store,” she said. “I’ll find the rest.”

  Ahead of them lay rows of four-and five-story brick stores. Even Libby felt impressed by their appearance. But Caleb led her beyond them to a store that outfitted pioneers for traveling west. To Libby’s great relief, Caleb stayed outside while she went in.

  Near the front, large open barrels were filled with apples. Along the wall were bins of sugar and flour. Another section held rakes, shovels, and large picks. Nearby were boots and shoes for the entire family.

  In no time at all, Libby found the jean cloth she wanted, as well as thread, needles, and scissors. When she went back outside, her purchases were wrapped in brown paper so that Caleb couldn’t see them.

  Libby found him leaning against the front wall of the store. A short distance away, two men talked with each other. Caleb stood with his back to the men, yet something about Caleb’s attitude made Libby curious.

  As still as a statue, she stayed next to the door. Caleb was listening, all right. But why?

  Suddenly he looked up and saw her. Without making a sound, Caleb moved his lips, as though to say, “Shhhhh!”

  Her curiosity growing by the minute, Libby waited. Though the sun warmed her face, the wind felt colder than the day before. Even in her warmest coat, she shivered.

  From where she stood, Libby couldn’t hear even one sentence. But Caleb was just enough closer. He seemed to drink in every word.

  One of the men wore a suit Libby knew was the latest style. He even carried a fashionable walking cane. By contrast, the other man wore tattered clothes.

  No wonder Caleb was curious. So was Libby. Both men were turned slightly away from her, so she couldn’t see their faces. But what she saw, Libby memorized. When she got back to the Christina, she’d draw—

  In that moment the man with the cane pulled money from his pocket. Quickly he handed it over to the other man. A moment later they separated.

  “What was that all about?” Libby asked Caleb when the two men were far enough away.

  As though Caleb knew no more than she did, he shrugged. But Libby felt sure he had heard something—something that interested him.

  When he refused to explain, Libby became even more curious. I’ll draw their pictures, she told herself again. When I get back to the Christina, I’ll draw both men so I don’t forget them.

  Then she remembered. She was almost out of drawing paper, and she needed more pencils.

  “Just a minute,” Libby told Caleb as she hurried back into the store.

  When she came out a second time, she had the large pieces of paper
she wanted, along with smaller sheets she could slip into a pocket. She had also found pens and ink, and to her delight, pencils made in New York.

  Reaching out, Caleb offered to carry her drawing supplies. “Careful,” Libby warned. “There’s a bottle of ink.”

  “Are you done shopping?” he asked, sounding hopeful. “I’ll take you to the Christina.”

  “Do I have to go back?” Libby asked. Even in faraway Chicago, she had heard about Saint Louis. Always she had wanted to see it—the streets, the people, the covered wagons passing through to settle in the new territories.

  “Yes, you have to go back,” Caleb said, and Libby knew she wasn’t going to change his mind.

  “I’ll just look around,” she said. “I’ll stay on the streets near the levee—”

  “Nope.”

  “I know my way back.” Again Libby felt embarrassed—torn between her desire to see the city and the knowledge that Caleb didn’t want her along. “I’ll get there by myself.”

  “Not on your life,” Caleb told her. He started toward the river.

  Like a fire kindled within her, Libby’s disappointment flared up. “I don’t have to do what you say! I’m not your slave!”

  As Libby spoke, a man walked past them. Dressed in a three-piece suit and a tall hat, he held only a coat over his arm. Next to him hurried a young black boy, taking two steps to the man’s one. Though half the size of the man, the boy carried a bag and two suitcases.

  “You don’t know what being a slave is all about,” Caleb answered quietly. He tipped his head toward the young black with the suitcase.

  “That’s what I was talking about.” Libby thought back to their talk on the boat. “See how that man takes care of the boy? How well dressed he is? He’s better off with his master.”

  “You think so?” Caleb’s voice was dangerously low, but sparks filled his eyes. “How come you don’t know what’s going on? You think that being treated well makes up for being owned?”

  “Owned?” Libby didn’t feel quite so sure of herself.

  “Bought. Sold.” Caleb spit out the words. “Like a horse or cow. Like any other property.”

  Libby pulled back, afraid of Caleb’s anger.

  He grabbed her hand. “You may come from a mansion in Chicago, but I’m tired of your silly ideas. I’m going to show you something.”

  “Like what?” Libby asked. “You better take care of me, or Pa won’t like it.”

  “I’ll take care of you, all right!” Caleb pulled her along. “I’ll take you to something you should have seen a long time ago!”

  CHAPTER 6

  Strange Message

  With quick angry steps Caleb headed away from the river. Libby hurried behind, trying to keep up. But Caleb’s long strides kept her running.

  In the street around them, teams of horses pulled heavily laden wagons. Caleb darted between them, seeming not to notice the danger. When they reached a building with tall pillars, he finally stopped.

  “Where are we?” Libby asked.

  “The courthouse for Saint Louis County,” Caleb answered, his voice short with anger.

  Wide steps led up to great wooden doors. As more and more people moved into the area, Libby’s gaze was drawn toward the top of the steps.

  A man stood there wearing a long, expensive coat that protected him against the sharp wind. Looking out over the people, he seemed to swagger, as though taking pleasure in the size of the crowd.

  In front of the steps was another white man who stood like a guard over a tall, strong-looking black boy. The boy waited with head bowed, as though staring at the ground.

  Libby turned toward Caleb. “What have you brought me to?”

  Caleb’s gaze met hers. “A slave auction.”

  “A slave auction? Pa won’t like that one bit.”

  “Are you going to tell him?” Caleb asked, and she knew he was daring her.

  Seconds later, Caleb looked away, as though he’d forgotten Libby. Instead, he seemed to watch the tall black boy.

  Even from this distance, Libby could tell that his short-sleeved shirt and cotton pants were new. It’s just like I said. Well cared for, that’s what he is.

  Wanting to continue their argument, Libby faced Caleb. “See his clothes?”

  Her words made Caleb even more angry. “They cleaned him up to sell him!” he muttered close to her ear. “Gave him new clothes to bring a better price!”

  Again Caleb grabbed her hand. When he pulled Libby through the crowd, she had no choice but to follow. Finally Caleb could not get around any more of the men waiting for the auction. Yet from where Caleb stopped Libby heard the guard talking to the young slave.

  “They call you Jordan, boy? You’re too uppity for my taste! Don’t you forget for one minute who you are! You is property!”

  The guard pushed the boy forward. “Hear me now? Keep your eyes on your feet, or they’ll think you run every chance you get!”

  As Jordan started up the steps, he moved slowly, as if dreading what lay ahead. Libby stood on her tiptoes. Inside she felt torn—wanting to see, yet not wanting to see.

  In spite of his strong appearance, Jordan seemed to have trouble walking. One at a time, he swung his feet wide with an awkward movement. Partway up the stairs, he stumbled.

  The man in the long coat called down to him. “Hurry, boy! Get up here!”

  Moments later, Jordan reached the top of the steps. Only then did Libby see that his feet were bare, even on this cold day. She also saw why he swung his feet wide and stumbled.

  Around his right ankle was a heavy steel band. Another band circled his left ankle. Between the leg-irons stretched a chain.

  Libby gasped. Caleb turned to her, a warning in his eyes. Quickly Libby covered her mouth, trying to hide her dismay. Yet when she looked back, the chain was still there. The leg-irons were still in place. She could not wish them away.

  As the man on the steps raised his arm, the crowd grew quiet. Libby no longer needed to be told what was happening. The well-dressed man was the auctioneer.

  “We got a boy here you’ll all want to own,” he started out.

  The young slave stood straight and tall with shoulders back. Yet his face looked blank. His head bowed, he stared down at the steps.

  With every onlooker turned his way, the auctioneer seemed to enjoy the attention he was getting. “Turn around, boy!” he commanded.

  Boy? Libby asked herself. Or young man? She had thought Jordan was fifteen or sixteen—a bit older than Caleb. Now she wasn’t sure.

  As Jordan turned, the chain on his leg-irons clanked. When he faced the front again, he stared out beyond the crowd, as though he did not see the people.

  Watching him, Libby felt strangely moved. He’s like royalty. The thought surprised her. How could a young black seem like a king?

  Suddenly a lump filled Libby’s throat. She looked away, not wanting to see someone only a few years older than her being sold.

  Caleb’s low, angry voice reached her ear. “You better watch. You better know what you’re talking about.”

  “Real property this one is!” The auctioneer’s voice called a warning, as if reminding the slave of his place.

  Instantly the young man bowed his head. Once again he stared at the steps.

  “Able to do a man’s work, I tell you. Give this boy the hardest labor you got, and he’ll do it.”

  The crowd laughed.

  “This here boy will do a man’s work and work a man’s day. But you won’t have to feed him as much as a man. Show ’em your muscle, boy!”

  Reaching out, the auctioneer pinched Jordan’s arm. “Hear me now? Show ’em your strength!”

  As though disliking the command, the young black lifted his arm slowly. When he flexed his muscle, the crowd roared its approval. Yet Jordan’s face held no expression.

  “Good healthy slave too.” With one quick movement the auctioneer stuck his finger in the boy’s mouth. Running the finger around inside Jordan’s lips
, he asked, “See his teeth?”

  Jordan swallowed hard. For one second his resentful eyes flicked toward the auctioneer. Then Jordan’s face again went blank.

  Sudden nausea swept through Libby. Just watching the auctioneer, she gagged, wanting to vomit.

  “What am I bid for this fine piece of property?” he sang out.

  Libby gasped, filled with the awfulness of it.

  But Caleb spoke in her ear. “Hush!”

  Instead, a great river of grief washed over Libby. Tears welled up, blurring her vision. Turning away, she bowed her head, unable to watch.

  This time Caleb touched her arm in warning. “Don’t make a scene!” His whisper sounded kinder now.

  Libby closed her eyes, unable to watch. But she could not shut out the sound of the bidding.

  “Five hundred!”

  “Six hundred!”

  From close by, a man called out, “Eight hundred!”

  Surprised by the two-hundred-dollar raise, Libby opened her eyes. The man in front of her led the bidding. His back was turned toward her, but somehow he seemed familiar.

  “One thousand!” called another man, and a murmur passed through the crowd.

  A white-haired gentleman had given that bid. Suddenly Libby hoped that Jordan would go to him. Maybe he’d be kinder, Libby told herself, then wondered where the thought came from.

  “Twelve hundred!” shouted the man in front of Libby.

  Gold covered the handle on his cane, and Libby felt sure it wasn’t used for walking. Short in height and slender around the waist, the man wore a suit of finely woven, expensive-looking cloth. Yet there was something about his back—

  “Oh no!” Caleb muttered, as though he’d heard Libby’s thoughts. “Old man Riggs!” Even the name seemed to fill Caleb with dread.

  “Who’s Riggs?” Libby asked.

  “A slave trader. He makes big money buying slaves and selling them to other people.”

  As Caleb spoke, the man turned enough to show Libby the side of his face. In that moment she knew who he was—the man she had watched in front of the store.

  For one instant he glanced around. As Libby looked into his cold blue eyes, she had no doubt that Riggs was the cruelest man she had ever seen.