Where Love Runs Free (Tales from the Upcountry) (12 page)

Isabella kissed him again, sending
a wave of guilt over Angelina that penetrated deep into her soul. She felt her
eyes narrow and the blood whoosh down to her toes. She should be the one
standing by Ben now, and not that foolish Isabella Richardson.

Several more contenders took
their turn, but no one’s time came close to Ben’s. Finally, Edward entered and
took a lap around the ring while Almighty snorted and shook its head,
proclaiming victory before the race had even begun. Angelina ignored the
comments that peppered the air, like “ain’t seen nothin’ like it” and “fast as
the wind,” and hateful words from two old men with mouths full of chewing
tobacco, “That red man ain’t
never
gonna outrun a white man.”

“That red man’s gonna outrun Edward
Millhouse today
and
at the next Carolina Challenge, you just wait and
see!” Angelina snapped back. She stared at the older of the two, trying not to
look at the crinkles surround the blue eyes or the grisly gray whiskers
protruding from the leathery skin. She clenched her jaw and held his look,
until a long stream of brown juice splat near the toe of her boot.

“Angel,” Jessie said, pulling
her toward the fence railing to watch Edward race. “Behave yourself.”

“Me? Did you hear that man?”

“Don’t listen to them.”

But there was no time to
argue with Jessie, since Edward was ready to ride. He sat up tall and straight before
tipping his hat to the judge, signaling for the clock to start. Angelina
squeezed Jessie’s hand and held her breath as the whistle blew, and horse and
rider took off at lightning speed. They rounded the track at a thunderous pace
and took each jump, one, two, three—maneuvering the barrels and then clearing
the same jumps again with agility and grace. At last, the race was over and the
time was called. Angelina squeezed Jessie’s hand even harder as the announcer
said, “Ladies and Gentlemen, the time is three minutes and forty-one seconds—a
close race—meaning our new champion is—Mr. Ben Eagle-Smith on Mighty Wind!”

 Angelina jumped to her feet,
feeling her heart explode with the roar of the crowd. “He did it!” Jessie
screamed, jumping up and down and whooping and hollering in jubilation with the
rest of the spectators. She threw her arms around Angelina’s neck and covered
her face with kisses. “Angelina, he did it! Thank you, Lord Jesus!”

Despite Jessie’s excitement
and the screams from the crowd, Angelina remained in total shock. With tears in
her eyes, she threw her arms up to the heavens and smiled at the clouds.
“Yee—hah!” she finally said, slapping her Stetson onto her knee, like she had
seen her daddy do many times.
Thank you, God!
she whispered in her
heart.

Ben and Mighty Wind took the
ring, making several victory laps while voicing his characteristic tribal cry.
Angelina waved and called to him as he thundered past, but he didn’t look her
way. Then ignoring the other contenders, he rode over to where Isabella waited,
bent down, and hoisted her onto his back. Anger rose up in Angelina at seeing
him make a public display of his relationship with this girl.
How could he?
Emotion
clouded her vision as she noticed Isabella press her cheek against his bare
skin.

“Miss Raeford?”

Edward stared at her from the
other side of the ring, still astride Almighty. “Edward,” she replied coolly,
tearing her thoughts away from Ben and Isabella. “Hello.” She wiped her eyes
and squinted into the sun, wondering what sort of reaction she would see.

He nodded, seemingly unfazed
by his defeat, and then tipped his top hat to Jessie. “Miss Jessie.”

“Edward—that’s a beauty of a
horse you have there.” Angelina could tell her sister was forcing a smile.

“Thank you. He is a fine
specimen.” Almighty heaved and snorted as Edward tightened the reins and pulled
on the bit.

“Just not fine enough,”
Angelina said, giving him one of her best smirks.

“Angelina,” Jessie scolded.
“You did very well, Edward,” she said a little too sweetly. “You should be
proud.”

He didn’t answer but surveyed
Angelina with a pair of steely eyes and a pompous smile. “We’ll see.”

Angelina felt her skin crawl
as he stared at her a moment too long. Then tipping his hat, he trotted back
toward the throng of admirers to receive a round of condolences. “Yes, we
shall,” she said under her breath.

“Come on,” Jessie said.
“Let’s go find Ben.” They pushed through the crowd, bearing the stench of sweat
from the men and perfume from the ladies, not to mention the bumps and swipes
from strong, muscular shoulders and fancy hat brims.

“Jessie!” Angelina called
over the noise of music, talk, and chitchat. “You see him?”

“No! And I don’t see Isabella
either!”

The leathery old man gave her
an evil look, but Angelina ignored him before he could spit another wad of
tobacco juice on her boot. She hopped onto one of the wooden high jumps and
stood above the sea of spectators, looking for Ben’s long braids and bare back,
but all she saw was a wave of Stetsons, cotton shirts, and cowboy boots. Then
in the distance, something caught her eye. There he was, his dark hair trailing
behind as he galloped away toward the direction of Middleton Farm. And Isabella
Richardson sat behind him with her peacock feathers flapping in the wind and
her arms wrapped tightly around his waist.

Ben could still feel the
softness of Isabella’s cheek on his back as he rode Mighty Wind toward Palmetto
Ridge. It was nice to have the adoration of a beautiful woman before a whole
town who considered him nothing but a heathen, but that didn’t take the sting
out of being rejected by Angelina. Her reaction to Edward hadn’t escape Ben’s
notice—he could see how she was taken in by the top hat, red riding jacket, and
the magnificent, white stallion. Even though she wasn’t wearing his ring, it
was clear she was reconsidering the marriage.

Ben grabbed Mighty Wind’s
mane and ran his fingers through the long strands. He remembered the power of
the stallion’s long, even strides as they rode around the Promenade course
together. It was a marvelous victory, even if it was by a one-second lead. And
yet for some reason, he felt empty inside—the excitement at winning lasted only
for a fleeting moment. If he wanted to win the Challenge, he was going to have
to improve his time considerably.

As he approached the top of
the ridge, Ben pulled Mighty Wind to a stop and stared down at his father’s
farm. He stroked the horse along its neck and said, “You did good, boy. The big
day’s coming up, you hear? We’re gonna have our day.”

A light shower brought a
layer of cool air, along with the fresh scent of rain. As the sun began to set,
a dark, hazy glow hovered close to the ground, giving the woods an ethereal
feel. Ben loved this time in the afternoon when the world went from light to
darkness, only to reappear in the morning. It reminded him of the story of the
Gospel and how Jesus, the God-man who brought light into the world, suffered a
time of darkness, only to be resurrected again. As Ben gazed at his boyhood
home, he felt himself sinking down into the depths of the grave, like Jesus
must’ve felt thousands of years ago. Swallowing hard, he fought back the
emotions that rose in his throat.
Lord, will it ever really be mine?
Fear
gripped him at the thought of losing the only thing he had left in life. He had
lost Angelina—what if he lost his wager with Edward? What if on the day of the
Challenge, he lost by one second instead of taking the lead? Would he forfeit
the farm forever?

Mighty Wind snorted and
whinnied, as if answering his questions. “It’s all right, my friend,” he said
softly to the stallion. “We won’t give up. We’ll train harder than ever. We’ll
show him. We’ll show ’em all.”

Nudging Mighty Wind with his
heels, Ben made his way along the ridge toward Fairington. The trail led
through a grove of large, live oak trees that provided a canopy of cool shade
from the setting sun. A feeling of calm come over him at the monotonous melody
of the crickets and wood toads, along with the accompaniment of the stallion’s
hooves crunching along the path of leaves and dirt. From deep in the distance
came the muffled cry of a wild animal that was strangely comforting, bringing
back fond memories of Ben’s boyhood. He recalled hunting in these woods with
his father, climbing the live oaks, swinging from rope swings, and sleeping in
a secluded treehouse. And then there were the times with Angelina.

Closing his eyes, Ben imagined
the long limbs of the oak trees were the welcoming arms of spectators cheering
him on as he neared the steeplechase finish line. A cluster of leaves brushed
his cheek, and he imagined Isabella tossing another feather his way. The eerie
silence echoed in his ears like the applause of an accepting crowd of
onlookers. On instinct, Mighty Wind moved into a gentle canter and then
accelerated to a gallop. Ben grabbed hold of the mane and kicked with his
heels, letting out a yell as the stallion soared over a fallen log and slammed
its hooves onto the dirt path at a thundering pace. As the pounding of horse
hooves resonated in Ben’s ears, he could almost feel Edward and his black top
hat coming close behind, breathing on his neck with a hot, putrid stench. But
then there at the finish line was Angelina, waiting for him with her soft smile
and long, blonde hair blowing in the wind.

Mighty Wind erupted from the
thickness of the trees and galloped along the ridge toward the open field. Ben
wanted to laugh at having entertained such negative thoughts about the
Challenge.
Nothing’s gonna stop us from winning that race
, he thought as
the stallion ran at a speed defying anything Ben had ever known.
Nothing!

He let out another loud Cherokee
call, when suddenly, his heart stilled, as though time was suspended. From the
corner of his eye he saw a flash of white and heard a wild scream that sliced
through his moccasin and traveled down to the sole of his foot. Mighty Wind
reared up on its hind legs and pawed the air as something black fell to the
ground and then bounced up against Ben’s side. The pain hit him again, sending
a wave of nausea through his chest and down into his stomach.

He pulled on the reins,
trying to speak to Mighty Wind with calming words, but no sound came. The
stallion reared up once more and danced away from the black mountain lion until
the ground slipped away from them. A deep, guttural neigh came from Mighty Wind
this time, a sound Ben had never heard before. His back hit the hard earth with
a thud, and it was as if his heart dislodged from his chest.

The last thing he remembered
was the sickening screams coming from his stallion that made every hair on the
back of his neck rise up. A picture of Mighty Wind as a lanky colt romping
through the fields flashed through Ben’s mind. It rambled up to him, tossing a
lock of dark hair over its eye before lapping up a sugar cube. Ben’s lungs
swelled with pride as he imagined himself kissing its velvety nose and stroking
its soft face. “Mighty Wind,” he murmured as the sun dipped down over the
horizon and a horse neighed in the distance. “Mighty Wind . . .”

Angelina rode Eagle’s Wing as
fast as she could to the top of the ridge. She had heard Mighty Wind’s screams
echoing across the field, followed by the distinctive cry of a mountain lion.
Ignoring Jessie’s frantic pleas, she reached into her saddlebag and pulled out
her mama’s pearl-handled pistol and cocked the trigger. “Oh, God, please,” she
prayed, feeling the words stick to her throat like a wad of glue.

As she and Eagle’s Wing
neared the top of the ridge, she pulled the gelding to a halt and leapt off the
saddle with the pistol in hand. “Ben!”

“Stay back!” he called.

She peered over the ridge and
saw Mighty Wind on the ground with its right front leg contorted in a strange
manner. Ben crouched in front of the stallion with a knife in hand, staring
down a black mountain lion. Blood dripped from its neck, but that didn’t stop
it from snarling and swishing its dark tail back and forth. Angelina pointed
the gun into the air and fired off a round, making the cat jump. Ben lunged at
the animal, but it backed away, snarling even more. Then gritting her teeth,
Angelina squinted and took aim, lining the sight of the pistol with the
mountain lion’s head as best she could, given the distance. She pulled the
trigger, and a loud blast filled the air, followed by the cat’s agonizing
screams. It stumbled before scurrying away into the thickness of the trees,
moving with a decided limp. Angelina figured she had gotten a clean shot to its
shoulder.

“Angelina, you all right?”
Jessie said as she pulled the buggy to a halt.

Eagle’s Wing nuzzled the back
of Angelina’s arm with its wet nose, prompting her to answer. “No,” she said
quietly, seeing Ben kneel beside Mighty Wind’s crumpled form.

“Dear Lord!” Jessie
exclaimed, taking in the grisly sight. “I better fetch Dr. Parker.”

 “I think it’s too late,
Jessie.” Angelina shoved the pistol into her leather belt and hurried down the
ridge toward Ben. The sight of Mighty Wind, broken and motionless, brought back
a grief she hadn’t experienced since her daddy died a few years ago. The silky,
sleek coat was covered in blood, and the powerful front legs were like two
sticks haphazardly tossed on a pile of wood. “Ben,” she sobbed, falling to her
knees next to him. “I’m so sorry!”

His face contorted as he
bowed his head low to the ground. She grabbed his hand and buried her face in
his chest, convulsing with sobs. His hot breath seared her neck, and his fingers
gripped her back, enveloping her in a tight embrace. Suddenly, his body trembled
violently as the sorrow welled up from deep inside, finally releasing like the
howl of a wolf.

Eagle’s Wing whinnied in
response, which broke Angelina’s heart. It could have very easily been her
horse lying here in this horrible state. “It’s gonna be all right,” she
whispered again and again, trying to assure herself as much as Ben. He grimaced
in pain, and then she noticed a stain of wet, sticky dirt on the front of her
riding skirt and the top of one of her boots. A deep gash on the side of his
leg oozed red and trickled down the length of his moccasin, dripping onto the
ground like thick paint. “Ben, you’re hurt!”

“It’s just a cut,” he said.
His voice sounded remote, like he was caught in a whirlwind of dark memories.

“It’s not.” Jumping to her
feet, she called to her sister, waving her hand back and forth. “Jessie! Get
the buggy down here, quick!” She ripped a swatch of petticoat from underneath
her riding skirt and quickly bound the wound on Ben’s leg. “We’ve gotta get you
home, you hear? This leg needs seeing to.” Grabbing him underneath the
shoulders, she tried to lift him to his feet. “Can you walk?”

“I’m not leaving him,” Ben
said, staring at Mighty Wind. “We’re gonna ride the Challenge—”

“You can’t stay here. You
need a doctor.”

He hesitated a moment, as if
considering her words, and then slowly lowered his head and slumped to the
ground.

“Ben!” Angelina grabbed him
by the arms and tried to pull him up again, but he wouldn’t budge. “Jessie!”

“I’m here,” she said, pulling
up in the buggy.

“Come on,” Angelina barked.
“Grab an arm and leg.”

Jessie followed Angelina’s
lead, and somehow they managed to drag Ben to the buggy and heave him into the
back. Angelina threw an old horse blanket over him and shoved her Stetson under
his head. Despite the pallor of his skin, he was beautiful, with his dark,
raven hair, chiseled features, and muscular chest that looked sculpted from
brown marble. “I love you, Ben,” she whispered. “I always will.” She wiped a
few stray hairs from his forehead and kissed him on the brow. “I’m gonna go
fetch Doc Parker, then I’ll be back to Fairington as soon as I can.”

Eagle’s Wing snorted wildly
and tossed its head as Angelina leapt into the saddle. “Don’t you let anything
happen to him, you hear, Jessie Raeford?” she commanded, thrusting a finger at
her sister.

“Just go get the doctor!”
Jessie answered, moving the buggy forward with a lurch. “We don’t have time to
waste!”

Angelina kicked Eagle’s Wing
with the heel of her boot and away they galloped.
Please, God. Please, keep
him safe.
She tried to still her thoughts from all the horrible
possibilities of what could happen, but no matter how fast she rode, they were
there, waging war in her mind.
I’ll do whatever you want.
The words
choked in her throat as she said them out loud. “Whatever it takes, Lord!”

As she made her way along
Palmetto Ridge and galloped past the old oak tree, she glanced toward the Smith
Farm where the For Sale sign was posted on the front door in large, black
letters instead of the bloody red. A voice spoke to her heart, and instantly,
she knew what she had to do.