Free Escape Into the Night by Lois Walfrid Johnson

pulled down and the collar of his coat turned up, Libby couldn’t see even the hair on his neck.
    With one quick movement Caleb picked up the dropped log and added it to the man’s load.
    “No wonder he couldn’t see!” Libby called to Caleb.
    Glancing toward Libby, Caleb grinned, then leaned close to talk to the wood carrier. Without turning even slightly, the man nodded.
    Inside, Libby felt a nudge.
There’s something familiar about him. What is it?
    Leaving the stairs, she hurried forward. Again Caleb moved between her and the wood carrier. Before Libby could reach the man, he walked away.
    “C’mon, race you to the cabin!” Caleb said. “Let’s get in out of the cold!”
    His sudden friendliness surprised Libby. In the large, main cabin Caleb found a place in the circle of people surrounding the wood stove. Nearby, Libby took another opening and stretched out her hands to the warmth. After the cold wind, the heat of the stove felt good.
    Soon one of the female passengers spoke to Libby. “Aren’t you the captain’s daughter?”
    “Why yes, I am,” Libby answered, feeling pleased.
    When she finished talking with the woman, Libby glanced around.
Caleb! Where is he?
    A rush of anger flowed through Libby. It wasn’t hard to figure out that Caleb had used his chance to disappear. And Libby wasn’t willing to let anyone turn her into a fool!
    Then a bigger question entered her mind.
What is Caleb trying to hide?

    From one end of the
Christina
to another, Libby searched for Caleb. She felt sure she would find him in the engine room on the main deck. The great steam engines were there, as well as the large furnaces that heated the water to make the engines run. Yet Caleb wasn’t there, nor in the blacksmith shop.
    Finally Libby made her way to the dessert and pastry kitchen. Located in front of one of the huge boxes that housed a paddlewheel, the galley was spotlessly clean.
    Granny was kneading bread, but the warm scent of bread dough didn’t fit with the way Libby felt.
    “Your grandson is the strangest boy I’ve ever met!” she blurted out.
    “Strangest?” Granny’s blue eyes studied Libby. “What do you mean?”
    “Caleb just asks questions. He never gives answers!”
    “About what?” Granny asked.
    “You’re just like him!” Libby exclaimed.
    “And what does that mean?” Granny gathered up a great mass of dough, turned it around, and folded it over.
    “I think I saw a young slave come on board,” Libby answered. “But when I asked Caleb about it, he wouldn’t tell me. In fact, he sneaked away.”
    “Without telling you anything?” Granny punched the dough.
    “Not a thing!”
    For an instant Granny seemed to relax. Then Libby decided she had imagined it.
    “So you think Caleb is strange?” Granny asked.
    “With any other boy I’ve met I could ask anything. All I had to do was smile.” Libby put on the smile she often practiced in front of a mirror.
    “And the boys would tell you,” Granny finished.
    “Whatever I wanted to know.”
    “And Caleb doesn’t.” With the ease of long practice Granny shaped the dough into a large ball and set it in a wooden bowl. For some reason she seemed very satisfied with herself—and with Caleb too.
    But then Granny surprised Libby. “Do you know how to make bread?”
    Libby shook her head. “In Chicago our cook always did it.” At lunch and dinner on the boat, Libby had seen how everyone wolfed down the good bread. Libby liked it, too, but had given only a passing thought as to where it came from.
    “I’ll show you how,” Granny said. “You’ll be good at it in no time.”
    She wrapped a large apron around Libby. Soon Libby had it covered with flour. At Auntie Vi’s she would have called this
work
and stayed far from it. Here with Granny it seemed like fun.
    More than once, the dough stuck to the board, and Libby’s hands felt clumsy and awkward. Finally she started to get the feel for what she should do. By that time she was