The Fiddler's Secret Read Online Free Page A

because of slavery, everyone in his family was there. “Why
are
you going to St. Paul?”
    Jordan dropped his voice to a mysterious whisper. “To spy out the land.”
    â€œLike the spies in the Bible who went to the Promised Land?”
    At his birth Jordan’s mother had named him in the belief he would lead his people out of slavery across the river to the Promised Land of freedom. For many slaves that meant the Ohio River. For others, such as Jordan’s family, it meant crossing the Mississippi River and the state of Illinois to reach Canada.
    â€œDo you mean your family would move to St. Paul?” Libby asked.
    â€œDepends on what I find. My momma and daddy like livin’ in Galena, but it’s fearful close to where we were slaves.”
    â€œBut Minnesota Territory? Pa said that slave owners go toSt. Paul and Stillwater to escape the heat in summer.”
    â€œAw, Libby, don’t you get all worried now.”
    â€œI mean it. People from the South like the cooler weather.”
    Jordan grinned. “It’s been five months since I ran away from Riggs. He’s got so many slaves he’s forgotten me.”
    â€œFive months since he told you a slave never got away from him alive,” Libby answered. “Right this minute there could be men like him on the
Christina
. Men who know about the reward on your head. They could be coming north to take their families home. Couldn’t they, Caleb?”
    â€œMaybe. Maybe not.” Caleb pushed his blond hair out of his eyes. “There’s one thing sure. On the trip back down the river, Jordan will have to be extra careful.”
    Libby still felt uneasy. “It’s only August seventeenth. Lots of time for hot weather still.” But Jordan only shrugged his shoulders.
    He’s brave, I know
, Libby thought as she left the boys and went up to the hurricane deck. More than once she had admired Jordan’s bravery.
But sometimes he has so much courage that he runs straight into trouble!
    As the morning sun burned off the fog, the
Christina
headed upriver again. When the side-wheeler tied up at a small town, Libby looked down from her favorite viewing spot to see what was going on.
    Roustabouts, or rousters, had begun unloading freight. On the riverfront nearby, three boys were teasing a small dog. When he leaped out of the arms of the youngest boy, the dog dodged this way and that, trying to get away.
    Soon the biggest boy cornered the dog next to a pile of freight. Picking him up, the bully held the dog so tightly thathe squealed with fear. Squirming and twisting, he struggled to get away.
    Angry at the cruelty she saw, Libby headed for the steps. When she reached the main deck, she found Peter ahead of her.
    As he hurried down the gangplank, he called to the boys. “Stop it!”
    The biggest boy whirled around. Still holding the dog, the boy stalked over. More than a head taller, the bully glared down at Peter. “Who do you think you are?”
    â€œStop hurting that dog!” Peter answered without giving away that he hadn’t heard one word.
    Instead, the boy walked over to the river. There he dunked the dog in the water, then rolled him in the brown, sandy mud of the riverbank. Still squirming, the dog yelped with fear. The more he struggled, the tighter the bully held him.
    â€œStop it!” Peter exclaimed. Rushing forward, he tried to take the dog from the bully. Instead, the older boy stepped back. The two other boys moved behind Peter, surrounding him.
    By the time Libby reached them, she was so angry that she had lost all fear. “Put that dog down,” she commanded.
    â€œA girl now!” the biggest bully sneered at Peter. “So a girl has to rescue you!”
    The bully pointed at Libby. Peter caught his meaning and flushed. “I can handle this,” he told her.
    Libby refused to leave. She glared at the biggest bully. “Let go of that dog, or