Quakers of New Garden

by Claire Sanders

  His aunt and uncle had taken him to their home to recover, leaving Deborah to wonder what would become of him.

  Her nephew Tom jogged along on his gray gelding. “She’s a good mover, isn’t she?”

  “Yes, I like her very much.”

  “Too bad thee has to give her back to that Fox.”

  “I have been dealing with covetousness, truly.” Deborah sighed. What would happen to him? She was sure she’d seen “That of God” in Nathaniel’s life when he helped the runaway slave, Aaron. But had he truly changed?

  Tom chuckled as they rounded the curve in the road that led to the meetinghouse. Tall trees stood around the long frame building. “Someone’s bringing a farm wagon.”

  Deborah looked down the road toward the bridge that stood among bare trees. A team and wagon jolted over the bridge on the other side of the meetinghouse. “So they are.”

  She and Tom followed Ma and Pa, turned toward the hitch rack, and then greeted her older brothers and sisters. Tom reached up and helped her down. When she’d tied the mare, she looked past the animal to watch the farm wagon roll in.

  A couple about her parents’ age sat on the bench. A third person in a dark coat sat in the back of the wagon, sun gleaming like copper in his tousled brown hair. Deborah didn’t recognize them at that distance.

  Pa greeted them and helped with their team, and then walked around the back while the driver helped his wife down. Now she knew them—George and Martha Fox. They waited at the back of the wagon while the passenger scooted to the end, set down a pair of crutches, and slid out the back.

  He looked up and stared at the mare then at Deborah.

  She gasped. Nathaniel Fox. Clean shaven and his long hair cut. His countenance had changed. Now he looked cheerful with a quick, easy smile.

  They all shook hands, and then Pa held his hand out to Deborah and the mare.

  Nathaniel swung over to them on his crutches.

  Deborah stared up at him. He looked so much better. The frown lines between his brows and on the sides of his mouth had eased. With all his whiskers gone, his face looked handsome as well as cheerful. Out in the pale, spring sunlight, his eyes looked sky blue, and the cold, fresh air colored his cheeks. His dark blue riding coat was unbuttoned. He wore his travel-worn plaid vest, white shirt, flowing black tie, dark trousers, and boots as though he hadn’t given up his worldly and brave apparel.

  Even so, she held out her hand. It trembled. He looked wonderful. “Neighbor Fox.”

  He took her hand. His hand made hers feel small, protected. “Hello, Deborah Wall. How is the mare working out for you?”

  “We thought an outing would be good for her.”

  He nodded. “I’m sure you are right.”

  Deborah kept staring up at him. She should say something kind and encouraging. “Thee is joining us?”

  He gazed into her eyes, ran a hand through his unruly, close-cropped hair, and then smiled. “My aunt said I must or she won’t feed me. Thus I cannot neglect attending meeting.” He paused for a moment, still smiling at her. “I assumed you might have a comment.”

  Deborah tried to think of what to say. She smiled and opened her mouth. Then closed it and thought again. “I’m sure thee doesn’t want to risk missing a meal. I’m glad to see thee here. And looking well.”

  He looked down for a moment, and instead of boldly studying her, he stole a bashful glance. Perhaps all these changes threw him off balance. Raising his gaze he asked in a low voice, “Truly glad?”

  This might be the first step toward making amends. Deborah nodded then started to smile. “My integrity will not allow me to say otherwise.”

  He nodded and adjusted his crutches. “I’m thankful to be here. I was glad when they said unto me, let us go up to the house of the Lord.”

  Deborah could only stare at him. If he’d changed that much, would he join the Society?

  Chapter 9

  The air smelled like spring as Nathaniel drove his aunt and uncle to meeting at New Garden. Leafy trees arched over the road. Many of the fields had been plowed by now.

  “I’m sure thee’s thankful for the Sabbath, Nathaniel,” Uncle George said. “Thee had a busy week.”

  He nodded as their pacing horse ambled along the road. “This ground is sure different from North Carolina. Plenty of rocks to break plow points and all. Reckon I won’t run out of work anytime soon.”

  Uncle George chuckled. “How is thy knee? I wondered if thee was limping by the end of the day sometimes.”

  “It hurts once in a while, but I’m all right as long as I keep moving.”

  Aunt Martha cleared her throat. She was so soft spoken. “We are glad as always to have thee come with us to meeting, Nathaniel.”

  Nathaniel chuckled. “Given that I like to eat, I’m still very pleased to join you in exchange for room and board.”

  “But I’m sure thee heard something of value at the Methodist meeting.”

  The horse tried to swerve around a low spot, but Nathaniel made him drive straight ahead. “They do preach the Bible, but there’s so much busyness about it that I was distracted.” He said nothing about all the pretty girls in fancy dresses, none as appealing as Deborah Wall in her plain clothes and bonnet.

  “I did hear that some of the Methodist women are also sewing things for the runaway slaves,” Aunt Martha said. “In many ways we are in one accord.”

  “I heard that last bunch that came through needed almost everything,” Uncle George said.

  “All Aaron and his family wore were rags, and it still felt like winter. Town needs a shoemaker. Almost none of the travelers have shoes.”

  “I wonder where those people are,” Uncle George said.

  “I hate to ask too much when I see Friend Coffin at the shop. You never know who might be passing by. But I heard they stayed several weeks until the lame one could walk. Then someone took them to Cabin Creek. Don’t know if they stayed in Randolph County or went on.”

  Aunt Martha breathed deeply and let it out. “I don’t think we give thanks enough for having our homes and families.”

  “You are right.” Nathaniel had to admire the Coffin family. Mr. Coffin tended to his business activities and involvement in New Garden meeting while hiding and caring for runaways. Mrs. Coffin showed each group the same calm hospitality she’d shown Nathaniel, and the runaways were probably more agreeable company than he’d been.

  Nathaniel had opened a shop east of the main crossroad in Newport. Katy and Levi Coffin returned most of the money he’d given to her, providing he used it for the shop and tools, they’d said. He included a set of shoeing stocks for draft horses and oxen. Deborah Wall’s father had hewn the beams and built the stocks for him.

  He often saw Deborah from a distance but seldom had opportunity to speak to her, or words to say if their paths did cross. Of all people she remembered most clearly how he used to be. Some of the argumentative things he’d said to her made him wince with embarrassment now.

  They pulled up near the frame building under the tall trees; only a few horses stood at the hitch rack. He looked for the Walls, but they hadn’t arrived yet.

  Aunt Martha liked to be early, which suited Nathaniel. He could find a seat in the back of the meetinghouse, put his leg up, and watch for the Wall family to come in. He liked to see Deborah, but did no more than nod and smile if she said hello. He knew her father, brothers, and nephews better through business.

  Little Catherine Coffin was still his friend though. When the family came in, the little girl hobbled over to tell him what all had been going on. Now she could add, subtract, multiply, and divide fractions. One of the barn cats just had kittens, and as an afterthought, she told him about a group of Friends who came all the way from England. They’d stayed with her family and met a big group of runaways.

  Someone like that, devoted to abolition and helping the slaves, might take Deborah Wall away. His chest tightened at the thought.

  Little Catherine jumped up to join
her mother and sisters. The seams of her gray dress showed her curved back. It might have gotten worse over time. He wished he could do something to help her.

  Levi Coffin sat down by him. “Welcome, neighbor. How is business?”

  Nathaniel smiled. “Busy right now, sir. Even shoeing some oxen.”

  “So the shoeing stocks were a good investment.” He nodded. “I am pleased to hear thy good report.”

  “Thank you, sir.”

  The older man nodded. “I’m always glad to hear of thy progress. Excuse me—I need to move closer to the front to be sure I can hear.”

  Nathaniel nodded and stole a glance toward the doors as the women and men separated and went to their own sides. Their silence and dark, plain clothes helped him clear his mind and focus on the Lord.

  The ministers and worthy Friends sat in benches on the platform at the front of the meetinghouse, facing the other members. Unlike the Methodist church, there was no cross, no pulpit, and no preacher in ceremonial robes. No music either. Now that was something he wished the Friends would reconsider.

  Deborah Wall came in with her mother, older sisters, and nieces. Nathaniel’s business with the Lord ended abruptly. Most of her family wore gray dresses, but Deborah preferred brown still. She was tall and willowy, almost as tall as her dad, and taller than her younger brothers. Her best dress was made of shiny material; her bonnet and cape were spotless.

  Another man slipped into the pew beside him and blocked his view of Deborah. The man took a long look at her. Nathaniel took a deep breath. He had no claim to Deborah. Someday she was sure to marry one of the Friends. Her life was so different from his. A future with her was too much to hope for, although he knew his heavenly Father knew his heart, and Deborah’s.

  As she and her family found their seats, she looked his way. Nathaniel froze and then reminded himself to smile. She glanced at her mother and nieces, and then back at him. Wonder of wonders, she smiled at him. Nathaniel’s heart started racing.

  The Friends settled down for several long, quiet moments. Deborah’s father went to the facing benches and sat at a desk. He was the clerk for today’s meeting. A minister on the platform made announcements, and another led out in prayer. Afterward they spoke of progress at the Friends’ school that used the meetinghouse during the week.

  Following a long, thoughtful pause, someone raised an objection to using the meetinghouse for antislavery meetings, but no one else felt led to speak one way or another. The topic died out, but the members were disquieted for several restless moments.

  Friends who had called on members that needed help or spiritual guidance reported on the outcomes of their visits. One, John Moore, the weaver, was the angular man who had sat down by Nathaniel. How could he be a match for Deborah? What would they have in common?

  Lord, help me listen. Several members had been appointed to attend various weddings among the young people. All the events had taken place decently and in good order.

  Weddings. If he and Deborah were to marry, who would the Friends appoint—no, he couldn’t think about a future with her.

  Sadly some others reported that members who had broken fellowship wouldn’t be reasoned with and were to be dismissed. At the mention of another girl’s name, Deborah’s lower lip trembled, and she blinked as though holding back tears. The girl had married someone outside the fellowship. Several people sighed and murmured among themselves at the bad news.

  The members became silent for long moments after that. Through the open windows came the sound of birds, a breeze in the trees, and water rippling through the creek bed.

  Someone else felt led to speak about the dangers of being unequally yoked in marriage or in business. Nathaniel mulled that over. If both were Christians, were they truly unequally yoked?

  During the next long, peaceful silence, Nathaniel recalled the previous year. Perhaps only such hard times could turn his heart and mind back to the Lord.

  Finally the minister sensed that the meeting was over. He stood and shook hands with the others on the platform. Everyone else stood and shook hands all around. Nathaniel waited for the others to leave so his limping pace wouldn’t delay them.

  A short, stocky man with a jowly face and thick white hair spoke to Deborah’s father. Nathaniel overheard Mr. Wall greet the man as Friend Smith. He was the other man who wanted to call on Deborah. Nathaniel found himself walking out with Josiah Wall, Deborah’s father.

  “I’m glad to see thee well, neighbor,” the older man said. “Thee’s moving a little more slowly today.”

  “Lots of plow horses and oxen to shoe this week.”

  “Glad of that. My family and I have a concern, Nathaniel.”

  “About what, sir?” He held his breath. What if he’d noticed Nathaniel staring at Deborah?

  “Thy mare seems to be getting closer to foaling. We wondered if thee would like to come out and take a look at her.” “I would. When would it suit you all?”

  “Even today, if thee’s concerned about her. Our Deborah believed thee would be interested. She and Mother planned on one more for dinner.”

  Nathaniel grinned. “I’ll tell my uncle and aunt.”

  Out by the hitch rack, he found the Walls sorting out who would ride in which of two buggies. The boys had ridden their horses over to the meeting. Nathaniel found himself in the buggy with Mr. Wall. Deborah drove the other horse, a high-spirited gelding. She managed it as well as any man, better than most.

  He and Josiah Wall talked about the weather and farming as the horse trotted eagerly back home. They went north on the Winchester road through Newport, past the big, white tavern favored by the Wagner gang, past the potter’s shop, harness maker’s, cooper’s, wagon maker’s, doctor’s house, and the Coffins’ store. They turned east at the main crossroad. A few hundred yards from the creek stood Nathaniel’s blacksmith shop. Since it opened, he’d been within sight of the Coffins’ house and had even seen Deborah from a distance many times, but he didn’t try to push friendship on her.

  The horses and buggy clip-clopped over the new bridge. Only smears of silt on the trees showed the height of the earlier flood.

  The first farm next to the creek belonged to William Smith, the widower interested in Deborah. Nathaniel studied the farm as they went by. A tall, square house stood at the end of a long lane. Behind it stood a big barn and pastures enclosed with rail fences. Milk cows and oxen lay chewing their cud among tall grass. Like every other farm here, woods edged all the fields and lined the horizons, showing where the first settlers had chopped fields out of forests.

  The brick house had rows of windows and massive chimneys. Making enough money to build such a place of his own would take years, and Deborah would have married someone else by then.

  “Nathaniel, I have a concern,” her father said.

  “What is it, Mr. Wall?”

  “I hear good things about thy work and thy character. Thee attends meeting consistently. I wonder if thee has considered rejoining the Friends.”

  Nathaniel shook his head. “I don’t feel led that way, sir. I am a Christian, but I differ from the Society’s teaching on several points.”

  Mr. Wall nodded. After a long pause he said, “We are called to be in the world but not of it. How thee works that out in thy life is between thee and the Lord.”

  “I appreciate your concern, Mr. Wall. It’s something I’ve been thinking about.”

  “Truly?”

  “Yes, sir. If I did rejoin the Society, I’d want to be settled in my mind that it’s for the right reasons.”

  Mr. Wall gave him a long look. “Thee’s very thoughtful.”

  “I have a lot of time to think while I work.” He didn’t want to admit how much he thought about Deborah.

  Chapter 10

  Deborah turned the reins over to one of her brothers when they reached home. She watched Pa and Nathaniel in the open buggy. What had they talked about?

  All these weeks he would only smile at her, never saying any
thing. He either didn’t like her at all or thought she didn’t like him, or he was trying to avoid giving offense. Most likely he didn’t like her because of how she’d treated him while he was at the Coffins’. Every time she remembered her harsh words and cruel thoughts toward him, she felt pricked in the heart and prayed about it again.

  If she’d given offense, she needed to make it right, one of the most difficult things she had to do as a Christian. Perhaps asking Nathaniel’s forgiveness would give her peace.

  After he’d helped Pa and the boys with the horses, Nathaniel limped into the house, the last to enter, and said hello to her mother. He turned to Pa. “I didn’t see the mare. Is she out on pasture?”

  “Down by the creek, most likely.”

  Nathaniel looked over his shoulder. “Very far?”

  Deborah resisted the urge to speak up and tell him where to find the mare. If they walked out there together, she might have a moment to apologize to him for her conduct earlier. “I can guess where she would be. After dinner we can look for her.”

  During the meal Deborah hardly tasted the corn dodgers Mama served. Nathaniel talked and laughed with her family as though he’d known them for years, but he barely talked to her. What if she was right and Nathaniel had been offended all these weeks? After the meal she hurried up into the loft of the double log cabin and changed into her old homespun dress and apron.

  Nathaniel waited for her on the back porch. “I hope it’s not too far.”

  “No, it will be a pleasant walk.” She led the way to the gate. Nathaniel dropped the rails and put them back.

  At the edge of the woods, redbud trees looked like pink clouds. The dogwoods’ white blossoms glowed in the woods, and the dark shapes of the horses and cows were visible at the end of the green pasture.

  Despite the soft blue sky and warm air, Deborah shivered, gathering her nerve before speaking. “Nathaniel Fox, I have something to say to thee.”

  His deep voice was soothing. “I’m glad. It’s been a long time since we talked.” He turned and gave her a hand as they picked a path around mud puddles. His hand was warm and his arm solid.