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
“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
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