Leapholes

C."

"What did they decide?"

"They ruled in favor of slavery. The court said that slaves are property, not people. Even if the owner takes his slave into a free territory, the slave is still a slave."

Ryan thought for a moment. He still didn't understand the meaning of the riddle "The brood follows the dam." But this Dred Scott decision sounded a whole heck of a lot like Legal Evil at work.

"So Dred Scott was forced to become a slave again?" asked Ryan.

"Yes. And so did all these other men you saw paraded down the street tonight. Ever since the Supreme Court made its decision, slave owners have been going back into Illinois and other free states, looking for their property. If they find them, they bring them back."

"And you say a posse brought back a man named Hezekiah two days ago?"

"That's right."

"But it can't be. Hezekiah was never a slave. What did he look like?"

"Very old. Kind of wild hair and bushy white eyebrows. He had on strange clothes, too. And shoes-unlike any I've seen before. They look something like yours."

Ryan glanced at his sneakers, and he recalled the canvas basketball shoes that Hezekiah had worn around the office. It was a painful realization, but Ryan could reach no other conclusion: They were indeed talking about the very same Hezekiah. "This is terrible," said Ryan. "Hezekiah is not a slave. He's my friend. I have to get him out of here."

She smiled with her eyes. "I might just be able to help you there, young man. Bringing people out of slavery is my life's work."

"It is?"

She leaned closer and whispered into his ear. "I'm an abolitionist."

Ryan thought he knew what she meant, but he didn't dare ask for an explanation. From the expression on her face, he was certain of this much: "Abolitionist" was a dangerous word to utter on this street.

"When can we get started?" asked Ryan.

"As soon as you like. Why don't you come on over to my house for dinner. We can talk about it."

Once again, Ryan scanned the street, searching for Jarvis. "I'd like to. But I came here with a friend. I don't see him anywhere."

"What's he look like?"

"Kind of hard to miss," said Ryan. "Big guy. And his face is really flat, kind of like he ran into a brick wall or something."

"Is that him over there?" she said.

Ryan spotted a gathering outside the tavern across the street. People were laughing and celebrating, eating fried chicken, sucking down cold drinks. In the middle of the crowd stood Jarvis. He was gnawing on a barbecued rib.

"Yes, that's him," said Ryan.

"What on earth is your friend doing at the slave owners' party?"

Ryan took a hard look at Jarvis, his eyes clouding with concern. "That's what I'd like to know."