Deborah guided Nathaniel’s mare behind Ma and Pa’s buggy. They were on their way to meeting at New Garden.
Nathaniel had told Deborah the mare’s previous owners called her Brandy, a name he wouldn’t have chosen. He hoped to open a blacksmith shop and fix up a stable and fences for the mare, as soon as his knee healed.
A dry week meant the muddy ruts of the road were frozen solid enough to travel easily. Crumbling snowdrifts lingered on the shadowed sides of trees and fences along the way, but the pale sunlight hinted that spring was coming. The road curved away from the Winchester-Richmond Pike, past the few remaining cabins of the original New Garden settlement. Most families had moved a mile or so north to Newport, once they’d discovered better water at that site.
Her brothers rode along, too. As long as the mare traveled with the herd, Deborah didn’t foresee problems with her. Last week Brandy had hardly blinked when Deborah first tried Ma’s old sidesaddle on her; someone might have ridden the mare aside before. An easy trip over to meeting and back would be good for the horse’s health. The old saddle creaked and squeaked in rhythm to the mare’s strides, but even that was enjoyable. What a merry company.
The ride buoyed her spirits, too. She’d been exercised over her attitude ever since Nathaniel Fox came to the Coffins’ home. Some of her anger about the fugitives’ treatment might have been righteous. But vengeance was the Lord’s, not hers, and when accusations came she remembered that the Lord had forgiven her. Did she owe anything to Nathaniel since she’d wronged him?
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?