Where Love Runs Free (Tales from the Upcountry) (15 page)

Before she could object, his
mouth was on hers once more, and this time she let him kiss her as he pleased.
But with every touch, she allowed her mind to scheme and plan some way to get
Ben’s land back before Isabella could lay claim to it.
I’ll go to Isaac
,
she thought. He was a longtime family friend and had a good head for business.
He could buy from Edward at three hundred an acre, and then she could turn
around and purchase from him at a profit—Edward never had to know. It would
cost her, but she could manage. Fairington was doing better than ever.
Surely,
he’ll agree.

Suddenly, Angelina thought of
the deer head on the wall with its enormous antlers and the bear-skin rug
sprawled before the massive fireplace. She struggled to breathe, but Edward
wouldn’t relax his hold. His kisses became more intense, almost violent, and it
was as though a tremendous weight descended on her, threatening to take her
down into a place of darkness and death.

Ben awoke to the memory of
Angelina whispering in his ear, “I love you Ben. I always will.” He felt her
soft kiss on his lips, but then reality set in as his eyes opened to the morning
sun streaming through a break in the curtains. Mighty Wind was gone and so was
their chance at riding in the Challenge, which was less than a month away. It
had been a week since the accident, but still the grief of losing his stallion
was as fresh and raw as the day it happened.

The clock above the mantle
ticked incessantly, reminding him that it was high time to get out of bed. He
had wanted to sleep in the bunkhouse, but Angelina insisted he stay in the
guest room with all of its fancy linen and finery. Ben would never get used to
green silk curtains and cushions and painted walls that looked like a European
palace. He’d much prefer a hook loom rug, iron bed, and Cherokee blanket as a
bed covering. And on a warm night, a pallet on the hard floor and a breeze
flowing over him were the ingredients for a peaceful night of sleep.

He rose to a seated position, wincing at the pain that
ripped through his side and down the length of his right leg. Slowly, he stood
to his feet, being careful not to put too much weight on the wound. The doctor had
cleaned it well and stitched the gash, but it was still sore and tender, and
his ribs hurt like the blazes when he breathed deeply.
Wonder when I’ll be
able to ride?
he thought. He hadn’t asked about that, since he knew what
the doctor would say—plenty of rest and no horses. But Ben didn’t care about
Dr. Parker’s opinion. He had to get outside and get some fresh air. And he
wanted to see where Angelina had buried Mighty Wind.

Slipping into an old pair of
brown trousers, he eased into a white cotton shirt that adorned several new
buttons. Ella had replaced the missing ones and sewn up the rips and tears,
despite his requests to do his own mending and repair. The shirt smelled fresh
and lemony and was stiff to the touch, which was unusual, since he rarely
ironed his clothes. But being a guest at Fairington came with some rules, one
of which was succumbing to Ella’s doting.
At least she got the blood out,
he thought, fighting a fleeting image of the black mountain lion swiping at
Mighty Wind’s back haunches. He thought of his Uncle Bear Claw and male cousins
sitting around the campfire when he was young, telling stories about the klandagi
wampus cats whose eerie cry warned that the spirit of death was near.

He hobbled to the vanity
mirror and stared at his reflection, hoping to clear his mind from the haunting
images. His face looked tired and worn, which was to be expected, but the sun
would do him good and bring some color to his cheeks. He ran his fingers
through his long hair—it could use a good washing, but otherwise, a quick shave
and a swish of peppermint water would make him presentable. Suddenly, a wave of
depression came over him at the thought of going downstairs and getting back
into the routine of life. He dreaded the looks of pity he was sure to receive,
especially from Tom and the other men—and Angelina. He wondered what she would
think of him now.

An old leather Bible lay open
on the vanity, and instinctively, his eyes fell to a verse underlined in black
ink. It was the last line of Isaiah 40.
But they that wait upon the LORD shall renew their
strength; they shall mount up with wings as eagles; they shall run, and not be
weary; and they shall walk, and not faint
.
A peace resonated through Ben’s heart. “I
know, Lord. I know,” he said, having heard this message many times before. God
always spoke to him through the Word, no matter the situation, and as usual, He
was saying to wait.
But what am I gonna do?
he asked himself.
I’m
running out of time.

Ben slammed the Bible closed,
wincing at the jabbing pain in his side. If he wanted to get his land from
Edward, he was going to have to find some way to compete in the Challenge. He
thought of some of Isaac Richardson’s horses and then the Fairington herd.
There was Captain’s Galley that Billy claimed and Eagle’s Wing, but only
Angelina rode it. And then there was Midnight Storm.

The throbbing in his leg shot
up the side of his body, forcing him to grip the edge of the dresser. A wave of
nausea came over him, bringing a cold, clammy sweat to his brow—all a reminder
of his physical limitations.
It’s too hard. It can’t be done,
resonated
through his mind, but he shook these thoughts away. He would do whatever it
took to ride the Challenge.

Noises from the kitchen
steered his mind back to the task of getting downstairs and putting some food
in his stomach, despite the queasiness. After sliding into his boots and
cleaning up a bit more, he made his way to the top of the stairs. A pot clanged
against something, and a cackle resonated through the house. Ella was obviously
in a good mood, cooking breakfast and washing dishes like she did every
morning. He heard the oven bang closed and a fresh sizzle of meat that sent a
delectable smell of bacon and rich coffee blending together. Ben’s stomach
lurched in response, awakening to the fact that he hadn’t eaten a proper meal
in days. His trousers were evidence of that as well, requiring the tightening
of his belt a notch or two.

Gritting his teeth, he
grabbed the mahogany staircase and began the slow hobble down to the foyer.
Every step brought a wince and the occasional grimace from the pain, but he was
determined to make it on his own. By the tenth step, he saw a fresh patch of
blood seeping through his trouser leg, but he kept going. All he could think
about was plopping down into a chair at the kitchen table and relieving the
pressure on his leg. For a moment, he closed his eyes and imagined Ella’s
scrambled eggs, bacon, and biscuits laden with sausage gravy, followed by a
little coffee and a mug of cold milk—all waiting for him if he could endure a
bit more.

He hobbled through the marble
foyer and down the hall toward the kitchen, finally reaching the door. Sweat
dripped off his forehead, but he didn’t bother wiping it away. He took another
deep breath and pushed.

“Lord’ve mercy! Mr. Ben,
whatch you doin’ out of bed? You know I was gonna bring your breakfast up. And
look at your leg! Bleedin’ right through those clean britches I washed.”

Ben heard Ella’s fussing, but
all he could see was Angelina’s shocked expression, followed by a rumble of
activity from Jessie, Tom, and Billy. “Get him back upstairs,” Angelina
snapped, as someone caught him before he fell to the floor.

“No,” he said, struggling to
breathe, “I need to get out—I need to ride—” The room spun for a moment, and
his knees buckled under him before everything went black.

A soft neighing and a wet
kiss on the cheek forced Ben’s eyes open. He was on a little cot in Mighty
Wind’s old stall, with Midnight Storm staring at him from over the railing. The
stallion munched on a mouthful of hay and stomped its hooves before snorting loudly,
showing a set of yellowed teeth. Stretching its neck, it neighed again and
nudged Ben on the shoulder, as if urging him to come and play. He smiled, until
the pain returned, making him grimace.

“You awake?” Angelina stepped
inside the stall holding a shovel in her hand. A few blonde curls fell to her
shoulders, and her cheeks flushed from exertion. She wore a pair of old work
trousers with a wide black belt and a green cotton shirt accentuating the blue
in her eyes. Despite the pain, Ben noticed the delicate bones at the base of
her neck.

“Reckon so.” He looked up at
Midnight Storm and tried to smile. “Looks like he doesn’t want me sleeping.”

“He probably wants you up and
riding again. Tom won’t even try, and none of the other boys can last a
minute—even Mitchell.” She peered closer at the leg wound, which was freshly
dressed. “But we’re gonna have to wait till that leg heals and the doctor gives
his okay. ’Course with you getting out of bed when you oughta be resting isn’t
gonna help,” she said, with a gentle, yet scolding look.

Their eyes met for a moment
and the memory of her words,
“I love you, Ben. I always will,”
floated
through his mind.

“I had the boys put you here
in the barn, since I know you’re tired of being cooped up in the guest room,”
she said in a nervous tone. “The bunkhouse is too noisy, so I thought you’d
like to be in here. Of course, if it’s too hard, I can have you moved.”

“No, I like it. I like being
where he used to be.” Ben gazed around the stall, remembering Mighty Wind
swishing its tail against the wall and eating sugar cubes from his hand. A deep
longing swept over him, forcing him to fight back the sadness, but the emotions
were stronger than he realized. They rose up to his chest, threatening to
strangle him. He threw his arm over his eyes so that Angelina couldn’t see the
blinding tears that flowed down his cheeks. “Reminds me of the first night I
saw you again,” he said, the words thickening in his throat. “That night
Eagle’s Wing was left out in the storm. And me and Mighty Wind found him and
brought him home.”

The shovel knocked against
the doorpost, and a weight settled at the end of the bed where Angelina sat on the
edge of the mattress. “I never really thanked you for that, did I?”

“I don’t know,” he said,
shrugging his shoulders. A hot tear escaped and rolled toward his ear, dripping
into his hair. “Doesn’t matter.”

Angelina’s fingers caressed
his, reminding him of the first time they had touched. “Thank you,” she
whispered, her voice breaking.

Without warning, the emotion
in her words cut through Ben’s swollen ribs and straight into his heart. He
would never ride Mighty Wind through the open fields again, feeling the wind
rip through his hair as he and the stallion became one, soaring faster and
faster, until they could almost fly up into the clouds. No more splashing
through the river and maneuvering the rocks, looking for fish, or quenching a
parched throat with a cool drink from the stream. And no more sugar cubes.

“Ben,” Angelina said, pulling
his arm away from his eyes. He shuddered for a moment, turning his face toward
the wall, fighting to maintain control. “Oh, Ben—I’m so sorry.” She smoothed a
long strand of hair away from his cheek, and it was as if there had never been
any division between them. “I know how much you loved Mighty Wind, and I know
no horse could ever replace him, but—I wanna give you Midnight Storm. No one
else can ride him, and he needs someone like you to bring out the champion in
him.” The stallion nudged Ben on the shoulder again, making Angelina smile.
“And we all know he likes you.”

Ben moved his arm away and
gazed at the horse, stroking its velvety nose. “I’ll need to pay you for him.”

“Nonsense. It’s a gift. And I
won’t take a single dime for him either. I don’t expect anything in return.”
She petted the horse’s nose as it bobbed its head up and down over the stall
railing. “I know he belongs to you, that’s all. God wants you to have him.”

Before she could pull away,
Ben grabbed her wrist and held it firmly. He stared into her eyes, seeing the dark,
stormy look of a heart that had been equally wounded. “You sure?”

She nodded yes, her face
clouding with emotion. He drew her toward him, wanting to look deeper into
those eyes, to see if the Angel from his youth was still there, hiding under
the wind-blown tresses, delicate bones, and porcelain skin. They flashed their
familiar blue and immediately, he was under the oak tree the night of the
engagement party, claiming what belonged to him.

His fingers went to the back
of her neck, which felt strong and smooth, and dug into the thick curls that
taunted him, daring him to place his lips there and kiss. He wiped a lone tear
away with his thumb and brushed it over her lips. “I heard what you said—in the
buggy. I remember.”

“Ben,” she said, his name rolling
off her tongue like a gentle mist, “Tom and Billy’ll be in here any minute. We
mustn’t—”

But we must,
something inside of him said.
We must
.

The barn door creaked open
and Tom barked a few orders as Billy returned Miss Majestic to her stall.
“How’s the patient?” he asked, leaning over the railing and smiling down at
Ben.

“Much better,” Angelina
stammered, wiping her cheeks with her hands and quickly grabbing her shovel.

Tom smiled and gave Ben a
wink. “Nothin’ like a woman’s touch.”

“Tom, really,” she scolded,
her face flushing, “stop talking nonsense. Ben needs his rest, and we’ve got a
lot of work to do. You said you were gonna help me with that fence, remember?”

“Yes, ma’am, I did.” He
winked at Ben again, and then the two of them were gone.

The barn was silent once
more, except for the chewing of hay and the occasional neigh and stomp of a
horse hoof. For a moment, Ben forgot about the pain in his ribs, leg, and
heart. For the first time since the accident, hope rose up within him, giving
him strength and courage. He would have his father’s land—and Angelina.
Somehow, they would both be his.
I’ll never give up,
he thought, imagining
losing himself in the soft hollow of her throat.
Never.