Race for Freedom (17 page)

When the sound of his footsteps died away, Libby looked at Jordan. Farther along the deck, he still stood with his head bowed. As she walked over to him, Libby’s embarrassment felt like a bad taste in her mouth.

“I’m sorry, Jordan,” she said. “Sorry I sent you after Doctor Hutton.”

“That’s all right, Libby.”

“For a doctor he sure didn’t do much,” Libby said.

“That man ain’t no doctor.”

“I know that now.” Libby ached inside. “I wish I had listened to you.”

Jordan’s troubled gaze met hers. “I knows you is hurtin’ for Elsa.”

As Libby realized Jordan understood, she began to cry. “I’m afraid Elsa’s going to die,” she wailed. “And I don’t know what to do!”

“Back home—” Jordan stopped as though remembering he no longer had a home. “When we gits sick, we pray.”

Again Libby felt humbled. Living with Auntie Vi, she had seen people pray. Their prayers were stiff and formal—solemn words that sounded like people were trying to impress God. How could prayers like that help Elsa?

The few times she herself had prayed, Libby wasn’t sure if God had done something or if it had been just a coincidence. Then she remembered how real God seemed to Jordan. Libby decided she’d better be honest. “I don’t know how to pray,” she said.

“You don’t know how?” Jordan asked.

Embarrassed, Libby shook her head. “I hear Pa pray, and I hear you and Caleb pray. But I don’t know if God listens to me.”

“Prayin’ ain’t hard,” Jordan told her. “Just talk to Jesus like you talk to anyone. But Jesus, He help you a whole lot more.”

When Caleb heard about Elsa being sick, he took the stairs to the texas deck two at a time. As soon as he found Libby, he wanted to know all of Elsa’s symptoms.

“She’s really sick, Caleb. She throws up and gets cramps in her legs and moans with pain.”

“And you helped her climb all these steps?” Caleb asked.

When Libby nodded, Caleb’s face turned white with dread. Seeing his expression, Libby’s insides tied into a knot.
He likes Elsa so much
.

She felt jealous again, but now it was more than a twinge.
I wish Caleb liked me the way he likes Elsa
.

Quickly Libby pushed the thought away.
That’s not what counts. What’s important is that Elsa gets well
.

“Do you know what she has?” Caleb asked.

Libby shook her head. Seeing Caleb’s expression, her fear returned.

“It’s cholera!” he said, his voice harsh.

“Kol-er-ah?” Libby whispered. Everyone she knew panicked the minute they heard the word. “You’re sure that’s what it is?”

“I’m sure.” Caleb spit out the words.

At first Libby wondered if he was angry at her. Then she remembered. Caleb’s parents had died of cholera.

“Go,” he said now. “Wash your hands and your face. And don’t go back into that room.”

“But Elsa needs my help.”

“Her mother will take care of her.”

Caleb knocked on the door and waited until Elsa’s mother came out. “Elsa must drink and drink and drink.” He motioned as though lifting a glass of water to his mouth. “She needs lots of water.”

“Yah,” Mrs. Meyer said as if she understood.

“I’ll bring water to you,” Caleb said. “You—” he pointed to Mrs. Meyer—“wash your hands often.”

When she nodded, Caleb started toward the captain’s cabin. Partway there, he met a steward bringing up a pitcher of water, soap, and a towel.

“Set it down,” Caleb told him. He turned back to Mrs. Meyer. “Like this,” he said.

There on the deck in front of the staring steward, Caleb washed his face and hands and arms.

“You, too, Libby,” he said. “Don’t forget. It’s your life, you know.”

His words were solemn—so solemn that Libby wanted to say,
Nothing will happen to me!

Then she saw Caleb’s eyes. In spite of his strong words, he was too scared to listen to any of her proud remarks.

CHAPTER 14

D
on’t think you’re stronger than everyone else,” Caleb warned. “That you’re the only one who won’t get sick!”

It was as though Caleb had read her mind, and Libby didn’t like the feeling. “How did you know?” she asked.

“Because that’s how I felt once.” Caleb turned toward Captain Norstad’s cabin.

Libby started down the stairs to the boiler deck. The women’s washroom was just behind the paddle wheel on the starboard, or right, side of the boat when looking toward the bow. She would go there and wash her face and hands, the way Caleb said.

As though unwilling to leave her, Samson followed close behind. Outside the washroom, the large dog dropped down on his haunches. When Libby came back out, he was sniffing at something hairy. “Oh, ick!” Libby told him. “Have you got a dead mouse?”

Samson paid no attention. Instead, he flipped his head, tossing whatever it was in the air. When it fell to the deck, the dog again pushed it with his nose.

Sure now that it wasn’t a mouse, Libby felt curious. “Here, Samson,” she said. “What have you got?”

Raising his head, Samson looked at Libby. On the deck lay a big handlebar mustache. Suddenly Libby grasped the awfulness of what she was seeing. “Oh no!”

Kneeling down, she picked up the mustache by the stiff curl at one end. Touching it no more than she had to, Libby stared at it. Without a doubt, it was the one she had seen on the man who looked like Riggs!

Holding the mustache at arm’s length, Libby headed for the stairs.
I need to tell Caleb and Pa!

Samson followed close behind. On the way to the captain’s cabin, Libby almost crashed into Jordan. “Take a look at this!” she exclaimed. “Riggs lost his mustache, and Samson found it!”

Libby started to tremble. “It’s just like we thought. Riggs really
is
on board! Why hasn’t he grabbed you?”

“He takin’ his time, Libby.”

“What do you mean?”

“He knows how strong I is.” Jordan flexed his muscle and grinned. Then his eyes grew solemn. “When Riggs knows everything he wants to know, he’ll just git some catchers to help. Then he tuck this boy under his arm and carry him off.”

Libby stared at Jordan. “C’mon. We’ve got to tell Pa.”

When she reached her father’s cabin, Libby was glad to find he had returned from Reads Landing. She flung open the door. Caleb sat at the table, talking with Pa. Jordan and Samson followed Libby inside.

“Riggs is here!” she announced.

“On board?” her father asked. “How do you know?”

“Look what Samson found!” Libby dropped the mustache onto the table.

Her father looked puzzled. “You’d better explain what’s going on.”

“Caleb and I wondered if Riggs came on board in St. Louis,” Libby said. “As I stood near the gangplank, I saw a man dressed like Riggs. He carried a cane with a gold handle.”

“There’s more than one wealthy man who carries a gold-handled cane,” Pa answered, as though not wanting to believe Riggs was on board. “And sometimes a cane like that is given to honor someone.”

“But it was more, Pa,” Libby said. “The man I saw was short and slender and even walked like Riggs. The one thing that was different was his big handlebar mustache. At first I thought, ‘That can’t be him. Riggs couldn’t grow a mustache in one day.’ Then I decided it might be his disguise.”

“Do you know whether this man really did come on board?” Pa asked.

“We weren’t sure at first,” Libby answered. “Then Jordan wondered if he saw Riggs, and I saw the man in the dining room. I was going to follow him and find out which stateroom was his. But I lost him.”

“Where did Samson find the mustache?” Pa asked.

“On the boiler deck. Where the first-class passengers walk around for exercise.”

“And you, Caleb?” asked the captain. “Have you seen this man?”

Caleb shook his head. “When Libby told me about him, I checked the passenger lists. If Riggs
is
on board, he didn’t use his own name. But Libby probably is right. She has a good memory for faces.”

“What about you, Jordan?” the captain asked. “What do you think about all this?”

“That man Riggs is like a cat ready to pounce. I is feeling more and more like a mouse. But I can’t let Riggs catch me because I gots to get my family free.”

Captain Norstad stood up and strolled over to the window. Libby knew it was his thinking-things-through walk. More than once she had seen it when a decision needed to be made. Caleb seemed to recognize the same thing, for he, too, waited quietly, not speaking.

At the window Captain Norstad looked down. Libby’s gaze followed his. Far below, the sparkling waters of the Mississippi flowed past the
Christina
. Libby wished that all their problems could fall behind the same way.

Turning back to them, her father spoke. “We have cholera on board.” His voice was rough, as if trying to push aside his concern. “We have Riggs on board. We have Jordan on board.”

“I’ll git off the boat,” Jordan said quickly. “If Riggs can’t find me, he can’t blame you for hiding me.”

The captain straightened his shoulders. “Maybe we can take care of all three problems with one quick move.”

Libby glanced over to where a chessboard sat on a small table near the wall.
But this isn’t a game
, she thought as she looked back to her father.

“Caleb, tomorrow morning before first light, you and Jordan leave the
Christina
. Follow the Indian trails around Lake Pepin. It’s a long, cold walk, but there’s a doctor in Red Wing—a man named William Sweney. Four years ago, a steamboat came to Red Wing with seventeen cholera patients on board. Doctor Sweney put them in a building near the Old Spring Creek Mill. Every day he visited them.”

Libby’s thoughts flew to Elsa. “What happened?” Libby asked.

“Out of seventeen patients, ten lived,” her father told her.

Suddenly Libby dared to hope. “If Elsa could be like the ten—”

“We’ll hope, and we’ll pray,” Pa said.

Libby glanced toward Caleb. He looked relieved, as though he, too, now hoped that Elsa might get well.

“When people hear the word
cholera
, everyone panics,” Captain Norstad said. “But when Doctor Sweney took care of those patients, not one person in the town of Red Wing got sick.”