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.