Where Love Runs Free (Tales from the Upcountry) (11 page)

Angelina sat next to Ella as
she drove the buggy into Laurel Grove for the first day of the Promenade Horse
Show. Dust and grit swirled through the air, forcing her to squint her eyes
under her freshly creased white Stetson—only worn on special occasions. Sweat
beaded around her forehead, sending the hat sliding back on her head and causing
her new, blue chambray blouse with tiny tucks and pleats to stick to her back. Thankfully,
the breeze picked up and blew through her hair, cooling her skin from the heat.
It was the second week in May, but the air was still warmer than usual for this
time of year. Rain clouds were moving in from the west, which would cool things
off later in the day.

Pushing up her shirt sleeves,
Angelina thought about the impression she would make on all the horse trainers.
Despite the small sweat stains, she knew she looked stunning in her black leather
vest with mother-of-pearl buttons and dark, canvas riding skirt anchored by her
daddy’s old, black leather belt cut down to fit her small waist. And fastened
in the front was his silver buckle—one of the prizes for having won the
Carolina Challenge years ago—polished until Angelina could see her reflection.
Topping all of that off were her black leather boots which were waxed and
buffed to a brand new condition.

Wonder what Ben’ll think?
she said to herself, imagining the look on his face
when he saw her attire. Butterflies fluttered in her stomach at the
anticipation of seeing him. She would be riding Eagle’s Wing in tomorrow’s
events, but Ben and Edward were due to ride today. Mighty Wind was racing like
a dream, and according to Jessie, Edward was being extremely secretive about
which horse he would be entering in today’s events. Angelina knew he had a
special fondness for a light brown gelding with a black mane and tail, named
Hallelujah, and a white Appaloosa filly named White Cloud. But Jessie had heard
rumors that a new thoroughbred had been purchased from Kentucky—a rare, white
stallion with a cream-colored mane and tail. Angelina snickered at the thought
of Edward Millhouse having the gall to ride a pristine, white stallion in
public.

“Lord, look at all the
people,” Ella commented as Angelina maneuvered the crowd, driving past the Blue
Ridge Hotel, Davis Supply & Co., and finally pulling to a stop at the
livery hitching post.

“All right, Ella,” Angelina
said, eyeing a peach cake with sugar frosting and a rhubarb pie sitting on the
seat between them. “You get those down to the bake-off and meet me over at the
Promenade ring. I’m gonna see if I can find Jessie.”

“Pray for me that I win first
place,” she said, climbing down from the buggy.

“Ella, you know you’re gonna
win. You win every year.”

“I don’t know. That Clara
Wilcox can sure cook up a peach cake.” She placed the desserts into a large
basket and wiped the sweat from her brow.

“But it’s not as good as
yours.” Angelina smiled and kissed Ella on the cheek.

“Child—” She smiled back and
looked Angelina over, from head to toe. “You do know how to be sweet when you
wanna, you know that?” Tears pricked the corners of her eyes as she tucked a
tangle of curls behind Angelina’s ear. Her voice changed slightly, sounding
thick and syrupy. “Just like your mama.”

Angelina wandered down Main
Street, past the Methodist Church and a long row of booths where ladies sold
crafts like crocheted shawls, quilted blankets, and knitted cotton socks. There
were silhouette artists, portrait painters, and street performers at every
corner, all engulfed in the aromas of delicious food. Angelina inhaled the
fragrance of buttery corn on the cob, roasted pecans, and candied apples. One
of the main attractions was fried chicken and cornbread fritters served in old
newspaper like the English fish and chips. She purchased a drumstick and
fritters and munched on the crunchy cornbread as she wove through the crowd,
nodding to friends and acquaintances and ignoring the looks of admirers while she
made her way to the Promenade ring. Finally, she spotted Jessie through the
throng, wearing her brown Stetson, sky blue chambray shirt, and brown riding
trousers. She looked striking and confident with her long, straight hair
hanging down her back. From a distance, it wasn’t hard to mistake Jessie for a
Cherokee.

Weaving through the
spectators, Angelina joined her sister by the fence railing. “You seen Ben
yet?”

“Nope,” Jessie said, grabbing
a fritter and popping it in her mouth. They watched one of Isaac Richardson’s trainers
enter the ring on a chestnut filly with three white socks. Angelina took an
instant liking to the horse, pondering what might be a fair price if he should
decide to sell.

“What about Edward? You think
he’s gonna be riding that white stallion?”

“Yep. That’s what his foreman
says. Says his time’s faster than ever, too. And guess what he named it?”

“What?”

Jessie gave a sly look,
preparing her for something shocking. “Almighty.”

Angelina’s eyes widened,
feigning surprise. “Jessie, don’t you be lying to me.”

“I’m not. Almighty. That’s
the name.”

Angelina chuckled to herself,
amazed at Edward’s audacity in trying to act like the coming Messiah.
Pride
goeth before the fall,
whispered deep inside of her. The announcer
introduced Billy riding Captain’s Galley, and the crowd cheered, bringing her
thoughts back to the Promenade. Jessie clapped and whistled in approval, but
Angelina removed all inhibition and let out a loud cheer, like an old cow hand
riding the range. She was proud of the gelding, knowing Billy would make a good
showing today, especially with Miranda Sutherland looking on. Angelina had
already spotted Isabella and her friends on the other side of the ring some
moments ago.

Stepping up on the fence
railing, Angelina got a better look at Miranda in her brown riding skirt and
dark green embroidered shirt, pointing and giggling as Billy rode past. Of
course, huddled next to her was Isabella, showing off in an ice blue silk shirt
with pearl buttons, dark gray riding skirt, and hat with band of peacock
feathers. Angelina looked away, knowing Isabella was there just to gawk at Ben.

“Ladies and Gentlemen,” the
announcer called, “representing Fairington Farm, we have Ben Eagle-Smith on
Mighty Wind.” The crowd gasped, some whispered and pointed, while others
applauded. But to Angelina, it was as though the world suddenly fell silent.
There he was, riding Mighty Wind, bareback, with his hair hanging down his back
in two long braids and a band of black leather around his brow. He was
bare-chested under a dark, leather vest with fringe and wore tall, dark
moccasins reaching the base of his knee—all of which made a statement louder
than if he had written
Cherokee
in bright letters across his chest.

Angelina’s cheeks flushed red
and her throat constricted as he galloped past. Their eyes connected for a
moment, and it was as if fire leapt from him, straight into her soul. He let
out a Cherokee yelp and galloped around the ring, finally pulling Mighty Wind
to a halt so that the stallion danced around the center of the ring on its hind
legs, pawing the air. Angelina watched, holding her breath. She had never seen
anything more wonderful and majestic, yet so dangerous. The crowd’s silence was
evidence that, they too, weren’t sure whether to applaud or run away.

Jessie murmured under her
breath, “Lord, Angelina. You sure you know what you’re doing?”

Before she could answer, a
little voice piped up, piercing the silence. “Ben! Ben!” It was Isabella,
waving her peacock-feathered hat. She clapped her hands, igniting a wave of
applause that swept through the crowd. Angelina’s throat tightened as Ben
retrieved one of the peacock feathers Isabella plucked from her hat. Smiling,
he stuck it in his hair, letting out another Cherokee yelp. The crowd responded
with another wave of applause while Isabella gushed with excitement. Envy
crawled all over Angelina as she watched Isabella giggle and carry on like some
self-imposed princess commissioning her prince to slay an evil dragon.

The announcer introduced the
next contender, halting the momentum of the crowd. It was Edward riding
Almighty, as Jessie predicted. A collective gasp came from the crowd as he
entered the ring riding the majestic, white stallion. The horse was muscular
and lean and in perfect proportion. Standing over sixteen hands, its coat was
sleek and snowy white, with flecks of gray across the bridge of its nose and a
cream-colored tail and mane braided to perfection. And Edward looked equally
dazzling in his English riding coat and black top hat, resembling the King of
England promenading before his humble subjects.

Angelina’s heart sank in fear
as Almighty galloped past, sounding like thunder from a distant storm. How
could anyone, let alone Ben, defeat Edward on this magnificent thoroughbred?
True to its name, the white stallion rumbled around the ring like a champion,
kicking up a cloud of dust, and abruptly stopped to pick up its hooves and
prance around in a circle. Edward stayed glued to the saddle, displaying his
expert riding ability with the same ease he might use if he was relaxing in one
of her front porch rockers. Despite the stallion’s fancy footwork, Angelina
noted how the top hat never moved nor slid from Edward’s brow. He looked lean, strong,
and determined, with hair slicked back behind his ears and his moustache
trimmed, accentuating a chiseled jaw and cheekbones. His eyes were a slate gray
and for a moment, they flickered in Angelina’s direction, acknowledging her
admiration. She had to admit that, on the surface, he offered everything she
could ever want in a man. And yet, he repulsed her.

“Gentlemen riders,” the
announcer bellowed, “please take your positions in the center of the ring.”
Edward maneuvered Almighty past Ben and Mighty Wind, cutting his eyes over in
an evil look. Billy and the other contenders lined up to hear the judge’s
instructions.

“This is my favorite part,”
Jessie hissed with excitement.

Angelina strained her ears
over the buzz of the crowd, listening to the judge describe the rules of one of
the most popular events, The Carolina Two-Step. “Sounds like a dance,” she had
said to her daddy when she was a little girl. And in a way it was. Each horse
was required to ride around the ring a certain number of times, successfully
clear a series of high jumps, race around several oak barrels, clear the same
jumps from the opposite direction, and return to the center of the ring in the
shortest time possible. Edward’s arrogant demeanor indicated he had every
intention of hanging on to his winning record of three minutes and forty-three
seconds, but the expression on Ben’s face left no doubt a battle was on his
hands.

The announcer blew the
whistle as the competition began. The first rider, one of Isaac’s trainers,
made a good showing on the chestnut filly, and then it was Billy’s turn. With a
few of his characteristic whoops and hollers, he cleared every jump and
obstacle on Captain’s Galley at an impressive three minutes and forty-two
seconds.

“Ya-hoo!” Angelina screamed
at the top of her lungs when the announcer declared the new event record, not
caring who she might offend. She grabbed Jessie around the waist and kissed her
on the cheek. “Oh, Jessie, this is the day Fairington’s gonna show Edward and
this whole town we’ve got the best horses and trainers around!”

“And now, ladies and gentlemen—”
A lump rose in Angelina’s throat as the announcer called “Mr. Ben Eagle-Smith
on Mighty Wind!”, followed by Isabella’s shrill cries of approval that rose
above the crowd’s rumble of excitement. Angelina stepped back up onto the fence
railing, lifting up on her tiptoes. Her heart filled with pride at seeing Ben
guide Mighty Wind around the ring several times at a furious pace before
leading the stallion into the first jump. Anxiety welled up in her every time
Mighty Wind sailed over the jump posts, stretching its long, lean legs past the
water barrier and onto the next jump which was a high hedge of boxwood bushes
elevated by bricks. With no trouble at all, Mighty Wind stayed true to its name
by clearing the remaining jumps and maneuvering every obstacle, finally racing
into the middle of the ring at a time of three minutes and forty seconds.

Angelina raised two hands up
in the air and screamed along with Jessie and the entire crowd, fighting the
urge to run out to Ben and leap on to Mighty Wind’s back. “Ben! Ben!” she
screamed.

She bent down to scoot under
the fence railing, but Jessie grabbed her arm. “Angelina, no—” Suddenly,
Jessie’s gaze drifted over to the middle of the ring to where a cluster of
bobbing peacock feathers headed straight toward Ben. It was Isabella, who acted
like a hysterical southern belle, flailing her arms so that Mighty Wind reared
up on its hind legs, bringing jeers and chuckles from the spectators. Ben leapt
to the ground and took a slight bow before Isabella threw her arms around his
neck and planted a kiss on his cheek.

The crowd grumbled at the
impropriety, but Ben seemed to love it. He grabbed Isabella and twirled her
around so that her dark gray, riding skirt fluttered about like a matador’s
cape. Then raising one fist to the crowd, he let out a loud Cherokee yell that
spoke volumes to the little town of Laurel Grove—Ben Eagle-Smith wasn’t ashamed
of being a red man, and everyone, including Edward Millhouse, was on notice
that the title of Best Horseman in the County was about to be his.