The Fiddler's Secret (13 page)

The shopkeeper held out his own violin to Franz. “Please,” he said. “Do me the honor of playing on my humble instrument.”

Franz took the violin and stepped away from Libby and Caleb to where there was more room. Standing behind the counter, he faced them and the door. When the shopkeeper sat down to listen, Franz raised the bow.

From the first notes, Libby knew he was playing the Hungarian Rhapsody she had heard on the
Christina
. As the music rose like the soaring of eagles, Franz closed his eyes and seemed to dream of a country far away.

Just then Libby felt Caleb's hand on her shoulder. For an instant he tightened his fingers as though warning her. Then Libby heard the sound.

A man had entered the shop. A man who walked quietly over to where the shopkeeper sat. Libby turned just slightly and felt glad for Caleb's warning.

Feeling that she had drawn his picture only moments before, Libby recognized the man. As she saw the cruel lines around his mouth, a shiver went down her spine.

In the next moment Mr. Trouble looked directly at Libby. His eyes widened with surprise, and Libby knew that he recognized her.

“Good afternoon, Miss Norstad,” he said. His words were polite, but the coldness in his face cut through to her heart.

As if he wished to buy something, Mr. Trouble walked over to a counter. Watching him, Libby started shaking.

CHAPTER 10

A
s Libby edged closer to Caleb, she saw the fiddler's eyes. No longer lost in his music, he watched the man's every movement.

When the shopkeeper asked, “May I help you with something?” Mr. Trouble shook his head and headed for the door. His hand on the knob, he turned back to stare at Libby once more.

The moment Mr. Trouble left the shop, Libby leaned over the counter. As she covered her face, her hands trembled. Through her fear came one thought.
Why does he want the picture I drew of him?

Franz stopped playing. “What's wrong?”

But Caleb spoke to Libby instead. “You're okay, he's gone.” Caleb spoke softly, and Libby knew he was trying to comfort her. “Stay here with Franz. I want to see where Mr. Trouble goes.”

“Who was that man?” Franz asked when Caleb hurried out.

With an effort Libby pulled herself together. “Suspect number three. Mr. Trouble. Tall. Brown hair. Blue eyes. Cruel lines around his mouth. Do you know him?”

Franz shook his head. He turned to the shopkeeper. “Is he the man who offered you the violin?”

“I've never seen him before. But there
is
something I want to offer you. Do you need a place to stay?”

Franz looked at Libby. “When the
Christina
leaves St. Paul, yes, I do. But without a violin, I have no way to earn my living.”

“While you search for your violin, I'll loan you my best one. I'll introduce you to men and women who can give you work. The people of St. Paul will be honored to have you live among us.”

Caleb returned and reported that Mr. Trouble had given him the slip. “Even if I found out where he's staying, we can't prove anything,” Caleb said.

On their way back to the Lower Landing, Libby and Caleb talked with Franz about it.

“There were three men on the
Christina
who could have taken your violin,” Libby said. “The man who works in the pawnshop is short. Two other men are tall. You just saw one of them—Mr. Trouble, who got upset when I drew his picture. The other man stood in the shadows during your concert. Did you recognize him?”

“His face? I could not see it.”

“Is there anyone who might want to get even with you?” Caleb asked.

The fiddler drew back. “Here in America?” Franz shook his head, but the mask went down over his face.

After Franz left them, Libby and Caleb took Samson for a walk along the riverfront. There they could talk without anyone hearing them.

“The fiddler is hiding something,” Libby said.

“You're sure?” Caleb asked. “I feel I can trust Franz.”

“I trust him too. But there's something he doesn't want us to know.” Libby paused, trying to think how to explain. “It's like there's something really important in his life that he's afraid to talk about.”

Caleb stared at her. “I think you're on to something. What could it be?”

“To start with, he's a famous violinist. He doesn't tell us, but that isn't hard to guess.”

“He probably plays with a well-known symphony,” Caleb said. “But if that's true, why doesn't he tell us?”

“Maybe he's humble.”

Caleb disagreed. “You can be humble but still tell people what your work is. You just don't brag about it. I think it's something more.”

“Let's think about what we know about him,” Libby said. “We already know he has a young son. Today he talked about a wife and daughter. He's come to America—”

“That's it!” Caleb exclaimed. “He's come here to America, but why?
Why
did he come here? And why doesn't he have his family along? That's where he always stops talking.”

“And he never talks about what country or city he's from. Maybe he's running away from an argument with his family.”

Caleb shook his head. “Franz isn't the kind that holds a grudge. He's too soft down inside. He says what he thinks, but if he had an argument, I think he'd work it out.”

Libby agreed with Caleb. “But what could his secret be? He wears tattered clothes as if he's poor.”

Caleb pounced on that. “
As if he's poor
. Do you think he is?”

Libby shook her head. “Not really poor. Not like people who have no food to eat. I think he had a lot of money once, but now, for some reason, it's gone. Do you suppose Kadosa is his real name?”

“You know, I wondered the same thing. If we question even that, what could his secret be?”

Libby didn't like the feeling it gave her. “Lots of immigrants change their names when they come to America. Yohansson to Johnson, for instance.”

“I'm not talking about that,” Caleb said, “and neither are you.”

When Pa returned from taking Annika out for dinner, he whistled coming up the stairs. As he rocked back and forth in his big chair, Libby sat on the low stool beside him. It was Libby's favorite time of the day—the moments when she and Pa talked together.

“You know, Libby, there's something I've been thinking about for quite a while. Someday the railroads will replace us—”

“Replace steamboats?” The idea startled Libby.

“More and more railroad lines are reaching the banks of the Mississippi. Right now they bring us business. But the time will come when railroads stretch from sea to sea. When the iron horse replaces steamboats, I'll need another way of life.”

The idea of such a thing happening was so new to Libby that she couldn't even imagine Pa being anything else. But her father went on.

“After all that happened earlier this summer, I've had a good season. I've paid off my crew, and there's money left over.
Now, while I have it, I want to invest that money in land.”

“As speculation?” Knowing Pa, Libby found that hard to believe.

“As a way of planning ahead. A way of working toward a secret dream. I want to take a look around and see if I can find land on a river bluff. Though I might need to leave steamboats, the river will never leave me. If that time comes, I want trees and hills and a view of the river. Enough land to cut wood and grow crops and live—”

“And have a family?” Libby asked.

Reaching out, Pa drew Libby close in a hug. “We are a family. A never-give-up family. Remember?”

“A family that doesn't give up on each other, even when things are hard.” Remembering Annika's reaction to her matchmaking, Libby felt afraid to say more. Then she took a risk. “
More
of a family, I mean.”

“Yes. More people in our family.” A smile lurked in Pa's eyes. “Let's start by seeing what Annika thinks about your idea. Would you like that?”

“If you mean marrying Annika, I would like that,” Libby said. “But I think you need to convince her.”

As Pa sighed, the smile in his eyes disappeared. “She needs convincing, all right. She's a mighty independent young woman. I think a part of Annika is running scared.”

“I think so too,” Libby said, but deep down she had a very big wish.
I hope Pa never finds out I told Annika to marry him
.

Glad that Mr. Trouble was off the
Christina
, Libby took her blankets back to her room and made her bed there. If Mr. Trouble was the one who looked through her belongings, he was gone now. Out of her life. Or so Libby believed.

That night Libby went to bed with a singing heart. Long after everyone else on the
Christina
was quiet, she still felt excited about Pa and Annika. Just thinking about them, Libby turned around and around on her corn-husk mattress.

When she heard Pa going down the stairs to see if all was well, Libby decided that sleep wasn't going to come. Getting up, she dressed quickly and went out to sit on the hurricane deck. From her favorite place, she had a good view of the nearby warehouses, the bluff along the river, and the city of St. Paul.

Soon Libby pulled on a sweater. The cool night after a warm day reminded her that this was Minnesota Territory. Autumn would come, then the real cold.
Maybe Annika will be with us, and we'll be far away
.

The riverfront was quiet now. The moon rode high, covered by a line of clouds. Above Libby, the line of warehouses stood out, a deeper black than the night sky.

For a long time Libby sat there. Then, as she started to stand up and return to her room, she heard a sound.
What is it? Muffled footsteps? The creak of a harness?

In the street at one end of the warehouses, Libby sensed a movement. Leaning forward, she peered into the darkness.

Then she saw it: a horse-drawn wagon backing onto the narrow ledge of land this side of the warehouse. The wagon stopped next to the back door. Soon another wagon joined the first. Then a third wagon crowded into the narrow space.