Candle in the Darkness - Lynn N. Austin [129]
“Measure the lot on the east side for me,” Robert said.
“How on earth—”
“Pace it—like this.” He stood and walked the length of the storeroom, counting each step. “I’ll measure your stride with my belt and use it to measure the tunnel.”
When Eli and I were back out on Cary Street, I asked him if he’d heard Robert’s plan. “I heard,” he said quietly. “I could help him by myself, Missy Caroline, if you wanted to stay out of this.”
I drew a deep breath. “No. Let’s do it together. Two minds are better than one.”
“All right,” Eli said with a sigh. “Let’s go have a look, then.”
We crossed Cary Street to where the buggy was parked, and stood beside it, slowly scanning the area around the prison in all directions. What I’d remembered of the northern and western sides had been correct; the vacant lots were too wide and too desolate to serve Robert’s purposes. But opposite the narrow vacant lot on the eastern side was a small, two-story brick building with a sign that said “Kerr’s Warehouse.” It faced Cary Street, not the prison, and behind it was a fenced yard with a small tool shed. The fence ran the length of the lot and was attached to another brick building of about the same size, facing Canal Street.
I knew Eli was thinking the same thing as me when he said, “Must be some way we can find out what’s in the yard behind that fence.”
“Yes. Let’s drive around the block and see what that other building on Canal Street is.”
The sentries who patrolled the perimeter of the prison watched as we circled the building, going south on Twentieth Street to the canal instead of turning north toward home as we usually did. The December afternoon was much too damp and windy for a pleasure ride, especially along the waterfront. We rounded the corner and drove past the building that bordered the south side of the fenced yard. It housed the offices of the James River Towing Company.
“Looks to me like the best place for his tunnel to end is behind that fence,” Eli said as we headed home. “Your friend only have to dig about fifty feet or so.”
“I agree. Now all we need to do is find out what’s on the other side of the fence.”
“You always was a smart gal,” Eli said. “Sure you’ll think of something.”
The queasy feeling returned at the thought of aiding in a prison escape. “I think I know how Rahab felt when she helped Joshua’s spies escape from Jericho,” I said. “I know that the Bible portrays her as a heroine, but it never occurred to me before that she had to betray her own city, her own people, in order to help her enemies escape.”
“You know why she did it? Bible say it’s because she believe in the power of God. She know He gonna have His way, and she determine to be His servant, no matter the cost.”
“What if that cost includes Charles?” I asked quietly.
Eli sighed. “I know this ain’t easy to hear, but God never take something away without giving us something even better in return—if not in this life, then in the next.”
I shook my head. “If I lose Charles, I don’t want anything else. And I can’t imagine what God could possibly give Rahab that could replace her home or her family and friends.”
Eli snapped the reins, and the mare began to a trot as she pulled the buggy up Church Hill. “Bible say Rahab’s family got saved along with her. But if you want to see what else God done for Rahab, you read the first chapter of Matthew when you get home.”
I turned to the passage when I was alone in my bedroom. At first I thought I must be reading the wrong passage—this was a list of Jesus’ family tree. Then my tears suddenly blurred the page. Named among our Lord’s ancestors was the traitor and spy, Rahab.
I waited anxiously for Charles to answer my letter about visiting Robert in Libby Prison. When one finally arrived from him, I was afraid to read it. I knew it was the reply to my letter because he’d used the same envelope I had. A