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Sabbath.”
    Nathan said, “No, sir,” then went to where Caleb sat on his horse. He mounted easily, and the two of them started down the road. As soon as they were out of hearing, Caleb said, “Why’d you have to start fighting with Father? If you’d kept on, he wouldn’t have let us take the trip to Boston.”
    As they approached the white church just outside the village, Nathan thought of how his father had looked strangely at him when speaking of the founders of their family. Gilbert Winslow, the first of the family to come to America, had beena great and honored man, according to the family tales, as had his son Matthew. But once, in an unguarded moment, Adam had said to his son, “You’re too much like Charles, Nathan.”
    As he pulled his horse down and allowed Caleb to catch up, Nathan thought about his uncle. Charles Winslow was the half brother of Adam, and there’d been some sort of scandal in his life, but Nathan could never find out exactly what it was all about. His uncle was a very successful businessman in Boston, and on the rare occasions when he’d come to Virginia, Nathan had been very impressed. He remembered him as a tall, handsome man with fair hair and bright blue eyes, and that he’d always given generous gifts to him and to Caleb. Slipping from his horse, he tied him to the post, thinking with excitement of the trip. Though he was older than Caleb and had gone to Harvard for one brief term of ten weeks, he was as excited as the younger boy about the trip, and some of it was the expectation of seeing his uncle again.
    His parents pulled up fifteen minutes later, and his father said, “I told you not to race those horses, Nathan.” There was displeasure in his dark eyes, and he led the way into the white frame building to their customary pew, speaking little to anyone.
    Rev. Patterson was a short, broad man with a full, fair face and a strong Bristol accent. Nathan, although he agreed fully with the pastor’s political sentiments, hoped fervently that his sermon would stay inside the covers of the Bible. His hopes were dashed, however, for the text was taken from that section of the Scriptures that teaches men to be obedient to those in authority. And those in authority, of course, were of the Royal House of Hanover—King George and his court of ministers.
    Rev. Patterson was a man of strong opinions, and his displeasure with those who chose to challenge the authority of the Crown was intense. His eyes lingered longest on Adam Winslow, though there were many others in the congregationwho were more adamant in their stand against royal policy than he.
    Halfway through the sermon, Nathan heard Caleb snort and say under his breath, “Big jackass!” He dug his elbow into Caleb’s ribs, hoping that nobody had heard, but there was a sullen “amen!” that came from his father, and Nathan slumped into his seat, wishing only that the service would end and they could get away.
    After the sermon, Rev. Patterson posted himself at the door, and when the Winslows stepped up, he said with an angry light in his eyes, “Mr. Winslow, you should keep your sons in order!”
    “Rev. Patterson, you should keep your sermons in order.”
    There was a sudden hush in the church, the humming of talk stopped abruptly. The position of a minister in the community was an elevated one, and few men would speak so harshly to one of them as Adam Winslow had just done.
    “Sir, you are impertinent!” Patterson’s face flushed richly, and he added angrily, “It’s obvious, sir, that your rebellion against the Crown has been expanded to include disloyalty against your church!”
    Adam Winslow was an even-tempered man, but he had sat through a long line of political harangues masquerading as sermons, all directed at himself and some of his friends. Now the pastor chose to make the thing personal by singling him out, and it stirred him to anger. There is something dangerous in him, Nathan thought, and it startled him.