Seeing Deborah now was bittersweet for Nathaniel. On summer days when he wasn’t busy, he helped some of the neighbors with wheat harvest and putting up hay. As summer faded into fall, corn ripened and dried down. The fields faded from green to gold. Sometimes the slaves fled north at times like this, when they could easily hide in the cornfields and find cover in the woods while the trees still had leaves.
Nathaniel listened intently in meeting, and as was said in the book of Acts, like the Bereans, he searched the scriptures daily to see if these things were so.
With the Lord’s help—because he’d learned to lie so fluently while in the world—he always told the truth and began rebuilding his integrity. When Uncle George remarked that Nathaniel’s father would have been proud of him, his encouraging words were like a stream in the desert.
The Friends made him feel welcome, and some of the older ones even knew of his parents. But how could he be sure he was joining the Society for the right reasons, not just to win Deborah?
Deborah’s life seemed to go on as before. She participated in women’s meetings and kept busy helping Katy Coffin and her family. She was beautiful as ever. Her brown dresses along with her big dark eyes reminded him of a deer.
As soon as frosts came, the trees in New Garden blazed red, gold, yellow, and orange against the clear blue sky. When the tenth month arrived, the filly would be six months old. One First Day, after meeting, he conferred with Deborah’s family about the horses. “I’ve finished the barn and fences at my uncle’s, Friend Wall, so I can bring the mare home for weaning the filly.”
Deborah remembered how frantic the mare had been for the filly earlier in the summer. Perhaps the process would be faster and easier if the two were separated.
Papa nodded. “Tonight might work, when we bring Deborah back to the Coffins’.”
“I’ll meet you at the shop.”
As soon as the sun went down, the air cooled rapidly. Deborah and Papa tried to soothe the mare as they led her out of the barn and hitched her to the back of the farm wagon loaded with wood.
Papa chirped to the team, and they rolled forward.
The filly whinnied for her mother. The mare dug in her heels. The wagon rattled to a stop, and the horses snorted with surprise. “Get up there,” Pa called to the team.
Deborah turned on the seat and looked back. The mare’s eyes were wild, and lather coated her neck and chest. Her nostrils flared as she snorted. She braced her legs, and the team dragged her a few steps. “Oh Pa, I don’t think this is going to work.”
“Try once more,” Papa said. He urged the team forward. The mare went a few steps then pulled back as hard as she could. Her halter broke, the tailgate cracked, and part of the load clattered to the ground. Just as the boys came out, she disappeared into the dark barn, whinnying for the filly.
They got down and picked up the spilled firewood. Papa sighed. “Tomorrow I’ll hitch up the oxen. We can’t take any more time tonight.”
In town they stopped at Nathaniel’s shop and told him what happened. He went around back and looked at the tailgate. “Did I mention she could be stubborn?” he said with a grin.
Deborah turned toward them, her arm over the back of the seat. He looked handsome even in his work clothes, a blue calico shirt, linsey-woolsey trousers, and tall boots. She liked his appearance better in those clothes than anything. “I have heard animals reflect their owners.”
He arched his brows. “Might not be so bad.” He gazed into her eyes then gave her a quick smile. “If I have my mind made up, I might be as determined as the mare.”
Deborah opened her mouth but closed it again, saying nothing. He might have meant marrying her. She’d told no one, not even Mama, of his offer and her refusal. Perhaps life would be easier if he carried out his original plan and moved farther West, somewhere beyond the Friends’ community. Life would be easier if she never saw him again, never saw him marry someone else.
The next day as she worked, Deborah watched for Pa, the oxcart, and the mare.
They could hear the mare before they saw her, neighing loudly for the filly every step of the way. When she tried to dig in her heels, the oxen kept going.
Deborah and Little Catherine watched from the porch.
Little Catherine studied the scene. “She has her saddle and bridle? Is Nathaniel going to ride her back to his uncle’s?”
“I suppose he might.” Deborah paused for a moment. What if he were hurt?
Pa and Nathaniel both took the mare’s rope, fastened to her halter over her bridle. They looped it over the hitch rack and tied her. Nathaniel and Pa conferred.
The mare whinnied so loudly that she shook.
“What if they can still hear each other?” Little Catherine asked.
“Surely not.”
“I believe their hearing is better than ours,” Little Catherine said as the mare froze with her ears pointed to the east, toward the farm.
“Thee might be right.”
Cousin Katy put her hand on Deborah’s shoulder. “I know thee would like to go talk to thy papa. Why not go along now? Little Catherine can help me with a few things.”
Deborah nodded. “I’ll be back in a few minutes.” She grabbed her wraps and darted out the door.
Both men seemed glad to see her. She held Papa’s hands. “We heard thee coming.”
He nodded. “She is very upset. But thee knows now, Nathaniel, she’ll work out well as a broodmare for thee.”
The blacksmith winced and ran his hand through his tousled hair. “If she survives weaning this one.”
Pa put his arm on Deborah’s shoulder. “Take care, now. I’m going to the mill to see about our corn. Soon be time to pick it. I hope all goes well for thee and the mare, Nathaniel.”
He nodded. “Thank you, Friend Wall.”
Deborah watched Pa as he picked up the ox goad and ordered the team to walk on. They started up the street between the edge of town and the creek, heading to the gristmill.
The mare whinnied again, and Nathaniel stood by her and tried to soothe her. He turned to Deborah.
Deborah gazed up at Nathaniel. Over the summer he’d filled out, shoulders broadened, forearms rippled with muscles. Work had marred his hands though. They were larger and more callused, but still gentle as he took one of hers. She cleared her throat. “Does thee plan to ride her back to thy uncle’s house?” The sound of galloping horses interrupted them, and a posse rounded the corner from the main road. The dogs barked, chasing after the running horses.
“Wagner,” Nathaniel said. “You run along. This is no place for a lady.”
A crowd of men on lathered horses slid to a stop. The leader jumped off his horse. He reminded Deborah of a snake—lean with hard unblinking eyes. “Fox, you need to reshoe this horse quick as you can. We’re in hot pursuit.”
“Of what?”
“A quadroon woman worth a thousand dollars to her owner. She’s a trained singer.” He swung round and pointed at Deborah. “You seen anyone like that?”
Nathaniel took a half step between Deborah and Wagner.
Deborah smiled wryly at the slave hunter. “Not at my father’s farm. I can’t recall the last time an opera singer lodged with us.”
“Never mind. Fox, put this shoe back on this horse.”
“I need a dollar first.”
“What? Pay you first!”
“Yep. I’m thinking of other bills left unpaid.”
“All right, all right. In a hurry after all.”
He nodded.
Deborah backed away. She walked up to the crossroads, thinking to go around the corner and be hidden by the buildings. There might be someone at the Coffin place who needed a hand.
Loud voices came from behind her. She looked over her shoulder.
Nathaniel set down the lame horse’s foot then held up a twisted shoe. He shook his head and pointed to the horse; the horse rested the one bare foot on its toe. Even that was too much weight. It lifted its injured foot and held it in the air, trembling.
Wagner waved his hands and pointed.
Nathaniel folded his arms across his chest and shook his head.
The other men laughed and jumped back on their horses. Apparently they intended to capture the slave woman and, if they found her, cut Wagner out of the deal.
Wagner swung a punch at Nathaniel.
Deborah gasped. Would he fight back? Use violence?
He grappled with Wagner but didn’t hit back. Instead he held the slave hunter at arm’s length.
They thrashed through the blacksmith shop. Tools, supplies, and firewood went everywhere. Wagner flailed like a windmill but was an inch or two away from reaching Nathaniel, who kept grinning.
Men ran to the shop, including Papa, Levi Coffin, and the town constable.
Wagner grabbed a hammer off the anvil and swung it at Nathaniel’s head. The blacksmith staggered and went to his knees.
Wagner untied Nathaniel’s mare and jumped on her. As soon as she was free, Brandy put her head down and bolted for the farm. A cloud of dust hid them a moment later.
Deborah hitched up her skirts and raced down the hill to the blacksmith shop. She found Nathaniel sitting up, his back against one of the porch posts, his arm held over his head. With his other hand, he mashed his shirtsleeve into a cut above his eye. Despite that, blood ran down his face.
“Deborah,” he said in tired voice. His eyes rolled back in his head, and he slumped over. She rushed to him. She pulled off her apron, rolled it up, and put it under his head. Perhaps he had only fainted.
He shivered. “The mare!” He tried to sit up but winced.
The constable strode after the runaway horse but turned to Levi Coffin and Deborah’s father. “Men, encourage those ruffians to leave town as soon as possible. That last one though, I am taking to jail.” He muttered under his breath, and his long white mustache twitched. “Can’t come to my town and hit good citizens over the head and steal horses in broad daylight. That arrogant buffoon. Nathaniel Fox, are you alive or dead?”
Nathaniel groaned. “I’ll be all right.”
“Peace, be still,” Deborah said, gripping his shoulder.
He put his bloodstained hand over hers. “I didn’t hit him.”
“I saw that, Nathaniel.”
“Thee saw—”
“Yes. Thee did the best thee could.”
“Hard not to hit him.”
“I’m sure it was. Thee was sorely provoked.”
“Supposed to turn the other cheek. I reckon holding him off was about the same.”
The doctor arrived on his pacing horse and jumped off, quite spry for a man his age. “Well. We meet again, neighbor. May I see him, Deborah Wall?”
She moved out of the way, but Nathaniel kept her hand.
“Scalp and facial injuries do bleed considerably,” the doctor announced. “Nathaniel, did thee faint for any length of time?”
“I’m not sure.”
“Did thee see, Deborah Wall?”
“Yes, he did faint.”
“We will treat him as though he has a concussion. Someone needs to be with him for the next several hours, so he doesn’t go to sleep and fail to wake up.” The doctor looked toward the road. “Now, who’s coming?”
“Some men went after that Wagner and Nathaniel’s horse,” Deborah said.
The doctor stood up, folded his arms, and watched horses and riders approach. “Well this doesn’t look good.”