Quakers of New Garden

by Claire Sanders

  She took a deep breath and held it. Admitting to doing wrong wasn’t easy. “About that—if I did anything to offend thee, with harsh words or how I acted toward thee when thee first came here…”

  He stopped and studied her for a moment then smiled wryly. “Harsh? I think you were justified. Somewhat. Although there were times when you looked at me like I was pond scum.”

  She burst out laughing then gazed up into his eyes, sky blue in the spring sunshine. She had to be as direct as possible. What was she going to say? “But still—”

  He put his finger over her lips. His sudden warm touch almost stopped her heart, but then it started to race. “You have done nothing to offend me.”

  “Thee has said nothing to me for weeks.”

  He looked down and started worrying a clump of grass with his boot toe. “I shouldn’t speak to you. It would make you look bad, harm your reputation. People would talk.”

  “I have my integrity.” She held out her hand and sighed. “Let’s go look at the horses.” Once she told him the worst of it, he might never forgive her. She hated to risk that. Her thoughts toward him startled her again. If he never forgave her, they’d have no future. She’d allowed herself to imagine too much, that this tall, handsome man who also liked horses and farming would grow into a solid Christian, diligent in business, sober in character—someone worth marrying once he rejoined the Society.

  They walked a little farther. The long grass hid stumps and roots left from when Pa and the boys had cleared the field years ago. Deborah tripped and Nathaniel caught her. Both stumbled for their balance and held each other up.

  She looked up into his ruddy face. His countenance had changed so much over the past several weeks. How could she have ever thought such cruel thoughts about him? “Nathaniel, there is more I need to confess.”

  He closed his eyes as though bracing for bad news. “Tell me, then.”

  “When Pa first brought thee to the Coffins, I—” She had to take another breath to steady her nerves. “I wondered if drowning was the Lord’s judgment on thee for thy wicked ways.”

  He breathed deeply, let it out, and then smiled.

  “Nathaniel, why is thee smiling?”

  “I feared worse news.”

  She shook her head. “What could be any worse?”

  “That you planned to marry someone else.”

  Deborah blinked in surprise. “Marry someone? There’s no one—” She cleared her throat. Her face warmed, clear up to the roots of her hair. Where did that idea come from? “Nathaniel, I wished the worst that could befall thee.”

  He looked down and nodded. “I’m not surprised at all. Nor offended. Tell me you haven’t worried about that all this time.”

  “I have.”

  He took her hands. “Oh Deborah Wall, the Bible says if any man is in Christ, he is a new creature. But also you need to forget what lies behind.”

  Her voice trembled. “I was so harsh. Almost treated thee like—like—”

  He kept her hands. “Like someone of the world? For all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God. You know that, as well as I do, birthright Friend or not.”

  She looked down and shook her head. Her voice cracked, and she paused to get it under control. “I never thought I’d act it out like that, Nathaniel.”

  “I never thought I’d do half the things I ended up doing either. And I was a birthright Friend, too.” He held her hands then drew her after him. “We’re supposed to look ahead, aren’t we? I have a lot to forget, and I suppose you have an item or two you’d like to rarely recall.”

  She nodded. “Thee’s right. Let’s find the horses.”

  They reached the swale where a streamlet trickled toward Willow Creek. The cows were lying down chewing their cud as Deborah and Nathaniel walked up.

  Two of the horses looked up then returned to grazing. The mare was missing. Deborah took a few steps farther. “I suppose, if she’s off by herself, she might be foaling now.”

  Nathaniel nodded. “Any ideas where she might have gone?”

  “There’s a little clearing back here.” She led him to the edge of the woods, along a muddy trail chopped with hoofprints. She glanced over her shoulder at Nathaniel. Hard to imagine he was the same person as the grim man who’d pursued fugitives to the Coffins’ home.

  He looked up from untangling raspberry canes from his clothes. “I wish the mare would foal about the same time as the raspberries come on.”

  “She’s too far along. But we might see fit to invite thee back when the berries are ripe,” Deborah said. She paused to study the plants, beaded with green flower buds that would yield berries in a few weeks.

  “Glad of that.” He smiled.

  Deborah glanced back at him and smiled.

  A horse snorted and a tiny voice answered. Deborah and Nathaniel exchanged glances. She took a step forward and he joined her. They pushed aside a screen of leafy branches. In the grass of the clearing, the mare stood over a tiny long-legged foal, nuzzling and licking its fuzzy coat.

  Deborah looked at Nathaniel. His eyes widened and he grinned. “I thought I’d never see this. And you’re here to see it with me.”

  She looked at him questioningly. “I’m glad thee feels that way.”

  He took her hand.

  Deborah breathed deeply. Her hand felt so right in his— hidden, safe, protected by his strong grip. Neither John, the weaver, nor Neighbor Smith made her feel that way, because she didn’t feel any closeness to them. “Nathaniel Fox, if thee has forgiven me for my harshness toward thee earlier, then do speak to me when we see each other.”

  He kept her hand then took her other one. Deborah’s mind raced. People at weddings faced each other and held hands just like this. But wait, neither she nor anyone in her family knew him very well. “It would be my privilege.”

  “I think we should see if thee has a colt or filly,” she added.

  Chapter 11

  As spring warmed into summer, Nathaniel made many calls to the Wall farm to see the mare and her filly. Sometimes when she wasn’t working, he saw Deborah, too. Every time they talked about the mare and foal, he felt more drawn to her. If only he could follow his heart, pursue her, try to win her for his wife.

  Whenever he imagined marrying her, he remembered how upset she’d been when one of her friends was dismissed for marrying out of unity. What would be best for Deborah? Her entire family and all of her friends were in the Society. Love was long-suffering and kind, according to the Bible, and did not seek its own way. How could marrying him be best for her?

  The open secret of the Coffins’ abolition work included a sigh of relief this time of year. Everyone knew most runaways arrived over the winter, when their pursuers were reluctant to go out in bad weather. As summer went on, the days grew longer and hotter.

  On a drowsy afternoon, Deborah Wall led one of the Coffins’ horses down to his shop.

  “Hello, neighbor,” she said.

  Nathaniel looked up from sharpening some hand tools, easy work in this heat. Her coarse homespun dress, sleeves pushed up on her arms, looked cool in the heat. Freckles dotted her hands, forearms, cheeks, and nose. Nathaniel had never seen such a pretty girl.

  If only she hadn’t seen him like this, in work clothes and in need of a shave. “Good afternoon, Miss Wall. What can I do for you?”

  She tied the old gelding to the rail in front and looked around the shop. It was mostly a roof over the forge. Barn swallows darted in and out. “He has a loose shoe.”

  Nathaniel lifted the horse’s hoof and examined the shoe. It was missing a nail. “Do you want to reset the shoes or just replace that nail?”

  “Just the nail, until he needs all of them done.”

  “Are you in a hurry?”

  She chuckled. “No, this is cheaper.” She stood by the gelding and watched Nathaniel work. “I need to tell thee some other news.”

  He nodded.

  “Neighbor Smith, outside of town, has bought a good
trotting horse. Pa made bookcases for his house earlier and saw it. If thee is wondering about getting thy mare rebred, that might be a good one.”

  “Have you seen the horse?”

  “I have. A few nights ago, I rode over with Pa.”

  He took a moment to gather his thoughts as well as find just the right nail. He knew Smith, a rich widower, favored Deborah. “To visit with your father or see the horse?”

  She smoothed her dark hair under her bonnet. What would it look like all undone? Couldn’t think like that. Or that she and her father had gone out to the Smith place. He made himself listen as she said, “Truth be told…a little of both.”

  “What do you think of that horse, Deborah Wall?”

  “He’s taller and has better legs than the mare. Thy mare is lovely in every way, except she toes in slightly in front. Improve that so they don’t overreach or interfere at speed, and any of their foals would be even faster.”

  He watched, agreeing with her thoughts. “Good reason to look him over.”

  She nodded. “I thought thee would like to know. Good afternoon, neighbor.”

  Nathaniel watched her walk away. He breathed deeply and exhaled. They liked so many of the same things. They could talk about horses all day. Could he and Deborah ever have a future together? Should he even hope for that?

  Deborah looked over her shoulder at Nathaniel as she walked slowly back to the big brick house. As she left the shop, someone brought in a lame horse.

  He worked carefully with the horse and had a long talk with the owner. The sun gleamed copper in Nathaniel’s tousled chestnut hair. His face, arms, and hands were tanned. During his talk with the owner, he picked up the horse’s leg and pointed to its tendons, as though those were part of the problem. The owner looked impressed. She sighed. Was she in error to hope and pray Nathaniel would rejoin the Society? She’d gotten ahead of the Spirit’s leading earlier, and only the Lord’s mercy had saved Pa and the runaways from the Wagner gang. She would hate to rely on her own insight again. But it was so hard to wait on the Lord’s timing.

  She walked up the path through the grape arbor; the fruit’s sweet scent combined with the aroma of gingerbread cooling on the dining room windowsill. She’d made the cake earlier for the sewing circle.

  Inside, she helped Cousin Katy and the girls open windows on the shady side of the house. They closed other windows and curtains against the sun. The house’s high ceilings, tall windows, and transoms over the doors helped capture the breeze.

  She climbed the narrow, twisting stairs to the bedroom she shared with the girls. She changed into a better dress then went downstairs to help prepare for the sewing circle.

  Mama and her oldest sister, Ruthanne, planned to come today. The group tried to keep ahead of clothing needed by the runaways. More women came during spring and summer when travel was easier.

  She steadied Little Catherine, who’d climbed into a straight chair to get to the gingerbread. “Patience, dear, thee might fall.”

  The youngest Coffin girl turned her head toward Deborah, but only a little because of her curved spine. “I just wished to smell it. Perhaps someone needs to sample it?”

  Deborah put her hand over her lips for a moment to hide a chuckle then looked at the mantel clock. “Not long, now, dear heart.” She helped Little Catherine down.

  She longed to see Mama. Sometimes the fugitives’ stories made her heart ache. How blessed her family was to have each other. No one could tear them away, unlike the poor slaves.

  Little Catherine looked out the window. “Deborah, here is thy mother already.”

  Deborah opened the door and helped Mama up the stairs.

  Mama took both of her hands. “Did thee make gingerbread, dear heart? I thought I smelled it. I’m surprised the whole town isn’t here.”

  Deborah smiled. “I hope it’s like thine, Mama.” She refilled the teakettle and swung it over the fire.

  Cousin Katy came into the dining room and held out both hands. “I’m glad to see thee, Ruth.”

  “Everything worked out to come a little early, Katy,” Mama said and smiled at Deborah.

  Mama was so pretty, even at her age, and looked so different from Deborah. Of all her sisters, only Deborah was tall and dark like Papa.

  “Come in; sit down,” Cousin Katy said, and then put her hand to her forehead. “I need to ask Grandmother if she remembers what we did with those fabric samples from the store. If I can find them, we can make good use of them.” She went into Friend Coffin’s office.

  Mama held Deborah’s arm. “Come sit with me for a moment. Deborah, I felt led to come early and ask if there is anything on thy heart.”

  Deborah sat with Mama on the bench. The big fireplace that she’d had to fill every time she turned around last winter was empty; all the ashes swept up weeks ago. Now gingham curtains fluttered at the open windows.

  Deborah nodded. The Lord knew the secrets of all hearts. And Mama wasn’t far behind. She sighed. “Oh Mama, I don’t know where to begin.”

  “I must tell thee that Friend Smith has asked Papa again if he may call on thee.”

  Deborah froze, and her heart dropped. She shook her head. “Mama, thee knows I don’t want to marry someone so many years older than me. I do not wish to be widowed.”

  Mama nodded. “That does make sense.” She picked up the workbasket and started sorting fabric that could be trimmed for quilt pieces. Many times, they sent things with the fugitives.

  Deborah picked up her knitting basket, filled as always with walnut-dyed wool for making mittens, scarves, and socks.

  Mama sorted the cloth pieces by color—gray, brown, white, black. Calico samples from the Coffins’ store would make a pretty addition. “I have also noticed at meeting that Nathaniel often looks for thee.”

  Deborah nodded. “I look for him, too. I like him very much, but I know so little of him. Thee and Papa knew each other even as children.”

  “Thy situation is very different. I know this doesn’t seem like much of an answer, but I’m afraid thee must be patient. See how the matter ends.”

  Deborah sighed. Soon she would be twenty-one. So old, so soon. She kept knitting. A step of faith would be to trust the Lord with this situation. If she had no future with Nathaniel, surely the Lord had a better plan for her life. Or perhaps she would never marry, but she believed she could trust God with this situation.

  Chapter 12

  On the Sabbath, Nathaniel went to the Walls’ farm after meeting. Deborah let her father and brothers do all the talking with him. They talked about a neighbor boy who’d gone to a Fourth of July celebration and militia shoot. Papa and another of the worthy Friends had been appointed to call on the boy later that week and reason with him about his misconduct.

  Nathaniel brought a satchel with him and after dinner told the boys it was a halter and rope to teach the filly to lead. Deborah enjoyed hearing his deep voice and hearty laugh. The boys wanted to hurry out and work with the horses. Deborah stayed back and helped Mama with the dishes.

  “Is thee going to see about the filly?” Mama asked.

  Deborah watched Nathaniel, the boys, and the horses out the window. “No—I would like to go for a walk.” She sighed. Longing for a talk with Nathaniel had distracted her from everything that happened in meeting. Could anything clear her mind?

  She went to the loft and changed into her homespun dress and apron, and then slipped down the ladder again. Outside, the grass in the cabin’s shade felt wonderfully cool to her bare feet. While the boys and Nathaniel faced the other way, she slipped past the barn and into the woods.

  The paths made by the cows and horses had turned to thick, warm dust that puffed up between her toes. She followed the trail to the edge of the woods and found the last of the raspberries. Couldn’t let them go to waste. She plucked a few and admired the deep purple of the juice on her hands. God made such a colorful world.

  Hoofbeats thudded softly on the trail behind her. She turned around. Nath
aniel. The filly dawdled after him, likely out of curiosity since he’d removed the halter; she didn’t see the mare.

  “I thought I saw you walk out this way, Deborah. Is something on your mind? You were so quiet at dinner.”

  She shook her head. “It is a matter of the heart. Painful to discuss.”

  He nodded. “Can I ask you a question or two?”

  “Of course. We should always speak the truth.”

  He looked down. “One of your nephews said William Smith called on your father.” He took a deep breath. “This is none of my concern.”

  “Speak thy mind, Nathaniel.” She held out some raspberries. “Perhaps this will clear thy thinking.”

  He chuckled as he took them.

  The filly came up to them, her nose out, and snuffled at the berries. Her fuzzy tail twitched, and she stamped a tiny hoof. Nathaniel smiled and offered a berry to the creature. She mouthed it then let the pieces drop from her mouth and turned up her nose.

  Out in the pasture, the mare whinnied loudly.

  The foal answered in her squeaky voice. The mare galloped past the screen of trees and brush in front of them, and then slid to a stop, neighing frantically. She ran past the end of the woods then turned and thundered down the trail.

  She looked wild-eyed and blinded with fright.

  Deborah stared at the animal pounding toward them. The horse would not stop for anything until she found the foal.

  Nathaniel grabbed Deborah and swung her out of the way. He staggered as his knee gave out, and he lurched into a tree. Deborah caught him before he fell, wrapped her arms around his waist, and then looked past his arm to the mare and foal, whickering to each other. Deborah and Nathaniel held each other up. She imagined the mare scolding the filly for wandering off.

  Nathaniel took a deep breath; she felt his ribs heave. “All’s well that ends well. Are you all right?”

  Her head rested against his chest; his vest felt scratchy against her cheek. “We forget how powerful they are. They seem so meek.”

  Nathaniel looked into her eyes. He was so warm and solid, looming over her, studying her face. Was he going to kiss her? No one ever had. It would be too much intimacy outside of marriage. Deborah barely breathed, longing for him to kiss her, but knowing it was wrong. She straightened and edged away from him.