The Fiddler's Secret (29 page)

L
ibby had sat there a full minute before she realized it was ground she sat upon, not a floor.
So this is a shed
, she thought.
An added-on shed, not part of the rest of the building
.

The thought gave her hope again. On her hands and knees she crawled around the outside wall, looking for any possible way out. When she found it, she hardly believed it herself.

At the exact place where the wall met the dirt floor, she saw light, then a hole.
A hole made by an animal
, Libby thought and backed away.

Almost at once she returned to it, knowing it was her only hope.
Can I manage to dig my way out?

Libby looked around. In the light of the window, she found a strong stick and started making the hole larger.

She had barely begun when she heard sounds from the front of the store. A yapping dog. Angry voices. A dog barking again.
Wellington!

Libby could imagine him now. Wellington darting away from the men who would catch him. Wellington circling around, coming close, streaking off. The small dog barking at his big enemies. How had he gotten into the store?

Then Libby remembered Wellington sniffing his way after a rabbit. Following that rabbit wherever the trail went.
That dog will find me! He'll lead the men right to me before I get out!

Libby chopped frantically at the dirt. The noise was coming closer now. Wellington's spindly legs were crossing the floor of the middle room.

In the next instant, he reached her. At the hole in the outside wall, he began digging. Dirt flew out behind his paws. The hole grew bigger and bigger.

As the terrier slipped through, Libby glanced around. The flickering light of a lantern threw shadows on a wall of the room behind her.

Then she heard voices. Men's voices. Angry voices coming closer and closer.

Desperate now, Libby dropped onto her stomach. When she couldn't make her way through, she twisted onto her back. Digging in with her heels, she wiggled and turned. Finally she squeezed through the hole.

Outside, Libby scrambled up, then caught Wellington. With all her strength she held him in her arms. With her hand around his muzzle, she ordered, “Shush!” Then she crept along the back of the building until she came to a side street.

Without making a sound, Libby hurried to the front side of the building. Near the entrance, she saw fresh footprints in the snow. The smaller ones belonged to Peter. The larger ones were Caleb's.

Hardly daring to breathe, Libby crept close to the door. To her surprise Wellington did not bark, but Libby knew it wouldn't last.

Soon she heard voices from inside. One man talked, and Caleb answered.

Caleb! Someone caught him?
Libby felt sick. In four and a half years with the Underground Railroad, he had always escaped from slave catchers.
How did he get caught now?

Startled, Libby drew back, even more frightened than when she was trapped.

Caleb got caught because of me. He was afraid for me
.

Her hand still around Wellington's muzzle, Libby crept away. The dog wiggled and squirmed, clearly upset. It took all Libby's strength to hang on.

It took her a moment to remember where the police station was. Then Libby walked as fast as she could. Close to the station, she let Wellington down. “Go find Peter!” The dog streaked away.

In two minutes, Libby had explained to the police. All of them had seen her drawing of Mr. Trouble. As they hurried off, she followed close behind.

Moving without sound, the policemen entered the store. A short time later, they led the three men away.

“The shopkeeper of the general store?” Libby asked Caleb when it was all over. “Did he know he was hiding stolen property? The furs that were probably taken from the building by the wharf?”

Caleb shook his head. “He probably thought the furs belonged to Oliver White. I heard Mr. White offer to close up for the day. He told the shopkeeper he could go home.”

That made Libby curious. “The crooks had another store—the pawnshop. Why did they meet in this one?”

“For some reason they needed to use the building. The way
it sounded, they had planned their biggest theft yet.”

In the late afternoon light, Libby saw relief in Caleb's eyes. Yet as the three of them walked to Annika's, it was Peter, not Caleb, who told Libby what happened.

“When you didn't come to Annika's, we went looking for you. Caleb said you didn't want him along. He figured that meant you would buy art supplies, so he knew where to look. We saw your sign of the fish and went inside. Caleb heard one of the men talking about how you snooped around the pawnshop.”

“And your dog?” Libby asked.

“When the men caught us, I used my secret signal to send Wellington after you. He's a hero, isn't he?”

Libby smiled. “Yes, Wellington is a hero,” she signed. Motioning with her hands, she dug with all her might to show how the terrier had dug out the hole. “He's not a mutt!”

Pointing to Peter, Libby signed again. “You're a hero too. You taught Wellington to obey you!”

Peter beamed with pride. “I told you he was a good dog.”

Libby smiled, but Caleb still did not speak. Libby wondered about it.

Then Peter said, “In two days it's Thanksgiving! We can give the fiddler his violin then!”

The next morning, Caleb and Libby walked into St. Paul to meet Jordan. As the three of them started back to the
Christina
, Libby glanced ahead. In a yard close to where they would pass was a tall, strong-looking boy with a snowball in his hand. Again and again he smoothed the ball, rubbing and packing it tight. Libby felt sure it was no longer snow but a chunk of ice as hard as a rock.

In a low voice, Caleb spoke. “He's looking for trouble.”

“I see him,” Jordan said.

A moment later the boy disappeared. As Libby, Caleb, and Jordan drew close, they watched the yard, the house, and a large oak with a thick trunk.

Suddenly a snowball whizzed out toward Jordan's head. Jordan saw it coming and ducked.

Libby gasped. Caleb and Jordan headed for the tree.

Just then the boy stepped out. In his hand he held another ice ball. On the ground beside him lay a mound of ammunition waiting to be used. But Jordan walked straight up to the boy.

Two feet away Jordan stopped. “Why did you do that?”

The boy sneered. “Because of who you are.”

His fists clenched, Jordan took another step toward the boy. Glaring down at him, Jordan met the boy's gaze. “There's two of us bigger than you.”

“I'm not scared. I'll take on both of you. And I'll win.”

“No,” Jordan said. “You won't win.”

He straightened, standing tall. Then he uncurled his fingers and walked away.

He walked with his eyes on the boy so he wouldn't be hit by another ice ball.

Two blocks later, Jordan finally spoke. “I did it!” he exclaimed as if he were the most surprised person alive. “I walked away! I didn't have to prove myself to him.”

The next day Micah Parker brought his family by sleigh from St. Anthony. As Serena and the others came on board the
Christina
, Libby knew that all of them truly had become one big family.

A few minutes later, Franz walked up the gangplank. When he took off his coat, he still wore the tattered shirt, but now Libby felt sure she knew what it meant. Franz wore ragged clothing to disguise who he was.

Today his step was even lighter than when he danced for the deckers. As everyone sat down in the
Christina's
winter room, Franz looked around the circle. “Yesterday Caleb told me that you have a big surprise for me. But first, I want to tell you my story.

“Before I came here today, I went to the jail. Two of the men would not talk to me. But it was Oliver White I wanted to meet. At the concert, a man in the shadows seemed familiar. I knew if he was someone from my days in Vienna, he could betray me.”

“Betray you?” All along, Libby had felt sure there was someone the fiddler could not trust.

“My real name is not Kadosa. In my homeland of Hungary I am part of a noble family. They could not understand why I wanted to study the violin. But my music is here.” Franz laid his hand on his heart.

“In the last revolution, my family lost our cause and fell out of favor with the rulers. Some of my loved ones died. Others fled to America.”

“The family near Nicollet,” Libby said.

Franz nodded. “At first, I thought I could stay in Hungary. Then I learned that I couldn't. When I needed to escape, my wife and children went into hiding. From one hiding place to the next, they worked their way to the border. Now they hide in a neighboring country, waiting for word from me. That is why I did not tell my secrets. I need to protect them.”

“And you needed to learn if you could trust us,” Caleb said.

“You knew it was a risk to play for first-class passengers, didn't you?” Pa asked.

“I wondered if some of them had traveled in Europe and could recognize me.”

“Is that why you use German words?” Libby asked.

“If I spoke Hungarian, a person who understood the language would know where I am from.”

Libby was still curious. “How would Oliver White know you?”

“At the jail, I looked into his eyes and recognized him. We were students in Vienna when there were tryouts for a well-known orchestra. We competed against each other. He is a very good violinist, but I won the place.”

“He was jealous?” Caleb asked. “He wanted to get even?”

Franz nodded. “At first. But there was more. He knew my violin is gut value. He knew the money it might bring. Because he couldn't get the amount he wanted, he decided to keep the violin. He thought that if he had such a fine instrument, he would become the violinist he always wanted to be.”

“He's like a little boy, isn't he?” Annika said. “He doesn't understand that for someone to play music in a way that touches people, he must feel the music by how he lives.”

“My land and wealth are gone,” Franz answered. “But if I have my fiddle, I can earn a living. That's why I watched how you treated Jordan.”

In that moment Libby had the answer to another puzzle. “You watched during school? You were the one looking through the window?”

As the fiddler nodded, he looked young again. “I knew
that if you gave to Jordan the freedom he needs, you will give my family the freedom we need.”

“But no matter where you live, there will be someone who doesn't want to do that,” Caleb said. “Someone who tries to take freedom from others.”

The fiddler smiled. “But as long as there are people who rob us of freedom, there need to be others like you and Libby, Jordan, and Peter.” Franz looked around the room. “People like all of you who work to keep freedom for others. You are Freedom Seekers.”

It was Peter who gave Franz his violin. As though unable to believe he truly held it again, the fiddler ran his fingers across the wood. Then he began to tune his treasured instrument.