The Whip Cracks

Beth backed away from the slave catcher. “It’s just a necklace my friend gave me,” she said. “It means nothing.”

Jones sneered. He poked the necklace with his index finger. “Nothing?” he said. “It’s a symbol telling slaves that it’s safe. But no slave is safe when I’m around.”

Beth lifted her chin. She wanted to act as Mrs. Lincoln would, like a queen. “I’m nursemaid to Tad Lincoln,” Beth said. “And Mrs. Lincoln will be angry if you bother me.”

The reporter wrote down something on his notepad. “What’s your name?” he asked. “The Cincinnati Daily Press pays me to get all the details.”

“Let me pass,” Beth said.

Suddenly Holman Jones laughed. He motioned with his arm for Beth to go down the aisle.

Beth tucked the necklace under her dress. She hurried out the door toward the baggage car.

The train whistle blew twice as she crossed the connecting platform.

The trap is set, Beth thought. Will Jones step into it?

Patrick saw Beth and flung the door wide open.

Beth hurried in and shut the door behind her. “Can we lock the door?” she asked.

“No,” Patrick said. “We don’t have the key anymore.”

Beth leaned against the door and took a deep breath.

“Holman Jones will be here any second,” Beth said.

“But he’ll find Sally,” Willie said.

“No, he won’t,” Beth said. “He’s too smart.”

Patrick was confused. “If Jones is so smart,” he said, “he’ll find Sally for sure.”

“There’s no time to explain,” Beth said. “Just keep Jones out till I say to let him in.”

Beth said so Sally could hear, “Pray like you’ve never prayed before.”

Patrick heard someone outside on the connecting platform. He leaned against the door with all his might.

Willie did too.

There was a knock on the door.

“Let me in.” It was Jones’s voice. “I demand to search the baggage car. I have a legal right to do it.”

Patrick looked at Beth. She opened the trunk. Then she took out the blue cloak and laid it on a crate. Next she emptied the fruit basket inside the trunk. Then she slammed the lid closed.

Beth started dragging Mrs. Lincoln’s trunk toward the side door. “Just a little bit more time,” she said.

Patrick felt Willie’s body shift. The boy reached into his pocket for a tin soldier. Then he wedged it between the door and the side post. Only the little man’s feet were sticking out.

“That should hold it,” Willie said. Then he rushed to open the side door.

Beth pushed the trunk to the edge.

Patrick had no idea what Willie and Beth were doing.

Jones jiggled the doorknob. But the toy soldier was still holding as a wedge. Still Patrick kept leaning against the door just in case.

Bam. Bam. Bam. Jones’s fist hit the door. “Sally is in there,” the slave catcher shouted, “and I will catch her. Then I’ll beat her unless you open the door!”

Help us, God, Beth prayed.

A railroad man on the depot platform walked past the open side door. “I’ll help you with that,” he said. The man lifted the trunk off the train. He set it on the depot platform.

Beth said, “Thank you.”

“Who’s in charge of this trunk?” the man asked.

“A man will come looking for it in a minute,” Beth said. “He’s blond and wearing a long, leather coat.”

The railroad worker lifted his hat at Beth. “All right, then,” he said. “Have a good day.”

Willie moved to the sliding door and slammed it shut. “Are we ready?” he asked.

“Yes,” Beth said.

Beth heard a squeaking sound. The brakes on the train released. Any second the train would begin to move away from the depot.

“Take out the toy soldier,” Willie called to Patrick.

Beth took Willie’s arm. The two of them moved to the center of the baggage car.

Beth watched as Patrick pulled the toy soldier from the doorframe. Then he joined Beth and Willie.

Jones burst through the door. His whip was in his hand. He cracked the long, leather strap in the air. Snap.

It sounded like a gunshot. Beth flinched.

“Where is Sally?” Jones asked. His voice sounded like an animal’s growl. He snapped the whip again.

The children were silent. Beth felt sweat dripping down her neck. Her hands began to sweat. She was so afraid she couldn’t speak. She held Willie’s and Patrick’s hands. Their hands were damp too.

The slave catcher moved his head from side to side. He was searching for Sally. “There’s the basket,” he said. “But where’s the food?” He turned around. “And where’s the trunk?”

The train started moving. The familiar clacking sound gave Beth courage.

She said, “You’re too late.”

Jones scowled when he heard her. “No!” he said. He cracked the whip in anger. Snap!

Beth felt a rush of air near her ear. The tip of the whip just missed her.

The slave catcher rushed to the side door and slid it open. He stuck his head outside.Light flooded the baggage car. Voices from people on the platform were shouting goodbye to the Lincoln Special.

“The trunk!” Jones shouted. “Sally and the food must be inside!”

Jones looked over his shoulder at Beth. “I win,” the slave catcher said.

Then Jones leaped off the rolling train.