The Mistake

Mrs. Lincoln stood up from the trunk. “We’re trying to keep Sally away from the slave catcher,” she said. “We’re not trying to suffocate her.”

Mrs. Lincoln put the blue cloak inside the nearly empty trunk. She slipped something inside the cloak pocket. “That’s for Sally,” she said. She closed the lid.

Sally’s not going inside it? Beth wondered. What is the trunk for?

Beth heard heavy footsteps and then Conductor Nottingham’s voice. “I’ve brought the sack truck.”

The sack truck was a tall, narrow cart with two wheels. It looked like something Whit would use to move heavy boxes or appliances.

“You will take that one first,” Mrs. Lincoln said. She pointed to the empty trunk.

Conductor Nottingham nodded to Mrs. Lincoln. “Yes, ma’am,” he said. Then he loaded the trunk onto the sack truck. “This one feels almost empty,” the conductor said.

“That’s my business,” the future First Lady said.

“But—” he started to say.

“Not a word, Conductor,” Mrs. Lincoln said sternly. “Not one word.”

Nottingham nodded. He used thick leather belts to strap the trunk to the cart. Nottingham started to whistle as he left the compartment. The trunk bumped the doorframe on the way out.

Mrs. Lincoln turned to Beth. She put her hands on her hips. “What are you waiting for?” she asked.

“Me?” Beth said.

“You,” Mrs. Lincoln said. “Pick up that food basket and skedaddle. Follow the conductor.”

“Then what?” Beth asked.

Mrs. Lincoln leaned over and whispered in Beth’s ear.

“Got it!” Beth said. Then she grinned so wide her cheeks hurt. That’ll fix Holman Jones, she thought.

Beth gave Tad a quick hug goodbye. Then she grabbed her own green cloak and put it on. She picked up the basket and hurried after Conductor Nottingham.

Beth caught up with him in the smoking car.

The slave catcher was blocking the aisle. Next to him stood a man in a brown suit. He had red hair and a thick beard. He was taking notes on a small pad of paper. Beth guessed he was a reporter.

Beth wanted to hang back or go around the men. But Mrs. Lincoln had given her a job. She neared the trunk and set the basket on top of it.

The trunk shifted slightly.

“That’s odd,” the red-haired man said. “How can a half-empty basket move a wood trunk with just a nudge?”

Jones rapped his knuckles on the trunk. It made a deep, hollow thump. “Sounds empty to me,” Jones said to Nottingham. “What’s inside?”

“Mind your own business,” Nottingham said.

Jones sneered. “It is my business,” he said. “This trunk looks like the perfect size to hide a runaway slave.”

Jones opened one side of his long leather coat. He revealed the revolver and the whip.

Beth’s eyes grew round with fear. She held in a gasp.

“Let me look inside the trunk,” Jones said. He patted the star-shaped badge on his jacket. “The law is on my side. No one can stop me from searching for runaways.”

“You’re going to shoot me to look inside Mrs. Lincoln’s trunk?” the conductor asked. He shook his head as if to say Jones wasn’t very smart. Then Nottingham said in a serious tone, “You said yourself the trunk is empty. Let me pass.”

“With pleasure,” Jones said.

Beth picked up the basket off the trunk.

Jones closed his jacket. Then he stepped out of the aisle. Nottingham pushed the sack truck toward the baggage car door.

Jones suddenly blocked the aisle again. This time he stopped Beth’s passage. “But not you!” Jones said.

“Why not?” Beth asked. “Do you think a slave is hiding in this basket?”

He smiled, but not nicely. “Very funny,” he said. “There’s no slave in the trunk. But you’d better explain why you’re taking food into the baggage car. And why you’re wearing a trinket from the Underground Railroad. Sally wore a necklace just like it.”

This time Beth did gasp. One of her hands flew to her necklace. She’d forgotten to hide it underneath her dress. Oh no! she thought. Holman Jones saw the goose!

Patrick stood guard at the baggage car door. He didn’t want anyone to come in and find Sally. Sally was inside her hideaway. Willie stood on top of the stack of luggage. He was talking to Sally in a hushed voice.

Patrick expected Mrs. Lincoln’s trunks to come soon. He opened the door a crack and peeked out.

He saw Conductor Nottingham pulling a cart across the connecting platform. Patrick shut the door. He whispered over his shoulder to Willie and Sally, “Conductor Nottingham is coming.”

Sally said, “Quick, Willie. Get off the luggage! But put the carpetbag back on top first!”

Willie moved the flowered carpetbag to cover Sally’s hideaway. Then he leaped from the stack of luggage and landed with a thud.

Just then Conductor Nottingham opened the door. “Come here, lad,” he said to Patrick. “Help me unstrap Mrs. Lincoln’s trunk.”

Patrick unbuckled the leather belt.

The conductor picked up the trunk as if it were a pillow.

“Is it empty?” Patrick asked.

“That’s not my business,” the conductor said. He placed the trunk near the others. “Leastwise that’s what Mrs. Lincoln tells me.” He winked at Patrick and then chuckled.

The train’s whistle blasted two long notes. The train slowed to a stop.

“That’s my cue to leave,” the conductor said. “I’ll have my key back.”

Willie handed Nottingham the key. “I didn’t lose it,” he said. “Was I responsible?”

“Very,” the conductor said. He slipped the key into his pocket.

Nottingham opened the wide door on the side of the car.

Patrick felt a gust of cold air enter the train.

“It’s time that I get off,” Nottingham said. “This is my last stop. A new conductor is coming. He’ll have to move Mrs. Lincoln’s second trunk. And he’ll arrange the bags for unloading at Buffalo.”

Nottingham stepped off the train. He stood on the ground, looking inside the baggage car. He said, “Your young friend is coming in just a minute. She’s in the smoking car talking to that mean fellow. He was mighty interested in something she was wearing.”

Willie slid the door closed.

Patrick gulped. The necklace! he thought.