Where Love Runs Free (Tales from the Upcountry) (17 page)

She nodded, recalling the first time their hands made
contact and then their lips. It was after she had slipped on a rock and
scratched her knee, years ago. “You and I are one, Angel. You’re a part of me.
You’re a part of this place.” He drew her even closer so that he was
practically breathing into her. “Our souls have been knitted together, don’t
you see?”

Angelina closed her eyes and allowed herself to sink into
the swirl of emotions spilling from his words, not caring if she drowned in
them. “Yes.” She ran her fingers through his thick hair and pulled herself
toward him. His hand smoothed across her waist and slipped around her back,
bringing her even closer, tighter, so that his body pressed against hers, until
she could barely breathe.

A sharp pinch dug into the top of her leg, and she
remembered—it was Edward’s ring. Instinctively, she pulled away, and a strange
look came over him. “What is it?”

“Nothing,” she replied, avoiding his gaze. She put her hands
around his neck, hoping for another kiss, but he grabbed her wrists, and the
dark look in his eyes returned. “Ben—” Reaching into her pocket, he grabbed the
ring and sat up on the bed, examining like it was a rare species of insect. “I
can explain.”

“You carry it with you?”

“I was going to give it back, I promise.”

“I thought you did—that night.” The look on his face was
haunting, deathlike, as though the blood had drained from his body. “You mean
to marry him?”

“No.” She tried to look into his eyes, but she was afraid of
what he might see. He hesitated a moment and then pushed her away, standing to
his feet. The ring dropped beside her on the bed. “Ben, I don’t want to marry
him!”

“But you plan on marrying him all the same.”

“No! But if you insist on racing him in the Challenge, he’ll
make you go away like you promised!” she sobbed. She stared at him, silently
begging him to read her thoughts so she wouldn’t have to speak the words. “But
there’s another way you can get your land,” she whispered. “And you won’t have
to race at all.”

The look on his face softened as confusion set in and then slowly,
understanding. “No,” he said, his voice breaking.

“But he’ll give me the farm, outright, and it won’t cost a
thing—and then it’ll be yours,” Angelina said, hating the desperation in her
voice. “And you’d never have to go away. Then, one day, we’ll find some way to
be together.”

Ben’s fists clenched at his sides and his jaw worked back
and forth, bridling the anger that clouded his expression. “I’m running that
race against Edward Millhouse, and I’m gonna win—me and Midnight Storm—whether
you believe it or not. And I’m gonna get my land back, on my own. Without your
help.”

“Ben, listen to me!”

“No, Angelina. You wanna use me as an excuse to marry him
and his money, go right ahead. But I’m running that race, you hear? And you and
Isaac Richardson—none of you are gonna get my land—you won’t! Never!” He grabbed
her by the shoulders and shook her hard until she cried out. “God help me—”
Then pulling her into his arms, he held her tightly as she wept. “You can’t
marry him, I won’t let you,” he said, kissing her again and again. “Promise me
you won’t.” His eyes were as dark as the depths of a raging, swirling river.
“Promise me.”

She tried to answer him, but the words wouldn’t come.
Instead, she stared into his eyes for what seemed like an eternity. Then
something changed in his expression, and immediately, she knew he was about to
say something terrible. “I won’t stand by and watch you do this, Angelina. I
won’t.” His eyes flooded with tears, and it was like a dagger to her heart. “I
won’t be coming back to Fairington. I’m gonna take that foreman position at Middleton
Farm and train Midnight Storm there, even if it is for a short while. I’m
asking you to release me from my duties.”

“Ben, please don’t do that,” she blubbered, not caring that
she was making an utter fool of herself. “And please don’t run that race.”

“I’ll get my things in the morning,” he said coolly,
releasing his hold. “And you don’t have to pay me my wages. Consider it an
installment on the horse. I plan on paying for him, fair and square.”

“I don’t want your money.”

“Nevertheless, I’m gonna pay you.”

She choked back the sobs while her eyes flooded with tears.
But there was no reaction from him, no sign of the passion and emotion she had
witnessed just moments before. He had exposed her heart, and now he was walking
away, as if none of it mattered. “All those things you said to me just now,
they’re all lies, aren’t they? About us being one soul. All you care about is
the past, seeking revenge, settling a score, and all for what? Land that Edward
says isn’t good for anything but seed and raising pigs!” His eyes flashed fire
and his jaw throbbed, as if she had struck him, but he said nothing. She
stepped forward and hissed in his face, “You love this ole rundown place better
than you’ve ever loved me!” Again, his eyes flashed. She raised her hand to
strike, but he stopped her, his fingers intertwining hers.

“Like I said, I’ll be getting my things tomorrow morning.
I’m much obliged to you, Miss Raeford, for taking me on at Fairington and
tending to my injuries.”

“Don’t go.”

A lone tear rolled down his cheek as he stepped away,
turned, and was gone.

Angelina stared at the bedroom door for the longest time before
sinking down onto the bed, her whole body tingling with numbness.
What had
happened?
she wondered.
What have I done?
Tears streamed down her
face as she tried to stop the hurt from roaring up from the pit of her belly—but
she couldn’t contain it. Without warning, a bitter sob filled the empty house.
“Lord!” she begged. “Change him! Make him see!”

She fell on the dirty bed, thinking about the beautiful, dark-haired
boy who had slept there all those years ago. She reached out to touch the
pillow and a sparkle from something shiny caught her eye. It was the diamond
ring. She covered it with her palm, feeling its sharp prongs digging into her
flesh, and yet it beckoned her all the same. Her eyes dried for a moment,
enabling her to blink the tears away so she could see more clearly. The stone
was bright and beautiful, yet hard and inflexible—like Edward. She wondered
what he would think if he could see her here on Ben’s bed, turning his ring one
way and then the other, allowing the light to reflect off the setting. Unconsciously,
she slipped it onto her finger—a perfect fit.

Eagle’s Wing softly neighed in the distance, reminding her
it was time to be getting home. She slipped the ring off her finger and shoved
it back in her skirt pocket, wiping her face and eyes and brushing the dust off
her clothes. The space where the floorboard had been removed intrigued her. She
peered carefully inside, wondering if there was something more hidden away, but
it was empty and cold, like the remainder of the house. Then gathering Ben’s
things into the leather bag, she pulled the string tight and dropped it into
the hole.

Isaac leaned against the fence railing and watched Ben work
Midnight Storm. “I thank you for taking the job, son.” He pushed his
sweat-stained Stetson back on his head and shifted a stem of hay to the other
side of his mouth, chewing like a cow. “You’re doin’ real good with the horses.
And the men’ve taken a likin’ to you, too. You know I’ve been lookin’ for a
good foreman for some time now. The position’s still open if you want it.”

Ben pulled the stallion to a halt and walked closer to where
Isaac stood. “I’m obliged to you, sir, for giving me the chance to work at
Middleton and for letting me train Midnight Storm,” he said, wiping the sweat
off his brow with a bandana, “but I haven’t changed my mind. I’ve got my own
plans.”

“I see your leg’s ’bout healed.” Isaac eyed Ben’s leg, which
now bore a nasty scar underneath his trousers. “Folks’re sayin’ it’s a
miracle.”

“God does work in wondrous ways,” Ben said, stroking the
stallion’s sleek coat. There was an unusual connection, a peace, with this new
horse. Midnight Storm was a real gift from the Lord—and Angelina, of course.

“That He does.”

“I’ll never know why I lost Mighty Wind,” Ben said, fighting
a wave of sadness, “but I am thankful I’ve recovered enough to ride like I need
to.”

Isaac paused a moment and stared into the distant fields of Middleton
Farm. Ben followed his gaze, enjoying the cool breeze that dried the
perspiration on his skin. There was a kindred spirit with this man, even though
they hadn’t known each other long. Perhaps it was the native ancestry that
connected them, or Isabella—he couldn’t be sure. “So you’re still plan on
runnin’ the Challenge, I reckon?”

“Yes, sir. Mr. Millhouse knows I’m holding him to his word.”

“Yep, I heard. You’ve got the whole town talkin’ ’bout it.
Probably shouldn’t be tellin’ you this, but despite your win at the Promenade,
ain’t too many folks think you can beat him.”

“Well, I guess they’re gonna be in for a big surprise.”

“Maybe so.” Isaac chuckled at Ben’s confidence, revealing
his tobacco-stained teeth. “I don’t mind tellin’ you, but I wouldn’t lose a
wink of sleep over seein’ somebody beat Edward Millhouse, especially somebody
with native blood runnin’ through his veins. I know I don’t acknowledge my
ancestors like I should, probably ’cause of the pain of being looked down upon.
I don’t talk ’bout it much, but my great grandma was part Cherokee, and I
didn’t like the way men like Edward Millhouse treated her. I remember as a boy
gettin’ as mad as all get out ’bout that. Your win at the Promenade whet my
appetite to see a little justice come Edward’s way. Sure would be nice to see
the look on his face if you cross the finish line first.”

“I plan on doing so, sir.”

“I admire your spunk. People may not say it, but they’ve
come to respect you—and that’s important to a man.”

“I don’t care what other people think. I just wanna get back
what’s mine.”

“Well, if you do change your mind, my offer still stands.
Edward still says he’ll sell me your pa’s farm for a fair price.”

“No,” Ben said, shaking his head, “he won’t be able to sell
it, ’cause I’m not gonna lose.”

Isaac shifted his weight to the other boot and propped his
foot on the fence railing, chewing on the stem of hay. Breathing deeply, he let
out a long, jagged exhale as though he was gathering the courage to discuss a
sensitive issue. Ben felt the tension in the air, like needles jabbing into his
skin. “I’ve gotta be honest with you, son—but I do believe you will. Which
means I’m gonna buy your pa’s farm.” Anger surged through Ben, but the sadness
in Isaac’s eyes quenched it like water on a flame. “I know you agreed to go
away from here, but one day Edward’ll relent—eventually,” he continued. “And I
want you to know, it’ll be here waitin’ on you when you’re ready to come back.
I’m not gonna sell it to anybody else, even to Miss Raeford, who wants it
somethin’ awful.”

Ben tried to hide his surprise, but Isaac read his expression.
“Yep, she’d been askin’—over and over,” he said with a nod. “But I can’t be
swayed. Not this time. When you’re ready, you can buy it from me, bit by bit—”

“No, sir.”

“I know what you’ve told me,” Isaac said, raising his hand
for silence. “But there’s somethin’ else I want you to consider ’fore you go
through with the Challenge. I’m gettin’ on up there in years, and I need
someone to run this place, someone to take over. Isabella’s taken a real shine
to you, I know that. Middleton’ll belong to her one day, but she’s gonna need
someone to help her with it, someone who knows horses. She’s like her ma—all
Charleston finery and fanciness. You understand?”

The softness in Isaac’s expression melted Ben’s frustration.
He was used to others not believing in him and making backhanded compliments,
but with Isaac, there was a tenderness and a well-meaning heart that was
special and unusual. Ben could see it in his eyes; it was the closest thing to
a fatherly love he had experienced in a very long time. “Yes, sir,” he said,
trying his best to sound respectful. “I appreciate what you think of me, honest
I do. But my mind’s fixed on running my own place. And I aim to do that after I
win that race.”

“Well,” Isaac said with a sigh, hanging his head and kicking
the ground with his boot, “I hope you prove me wrong. But if for some reason
you decide you don’t wanna run, no one’ll think the lesser of you for it. A
man’s gotta do what’s best under the circumstances. You’re the best horseman
’round these parts, but even the best riders can make mistakes on that
steeplechase. It can be brutal. I’ve seen men fall, break their necks—horses
break a leg. You gotta ask yourself, is it worth it? You say you don’t care
what people think, but you might decide differently one day. Respect’ll come
your way again—eventually—if you decide not to run. People forget. They always
do.”

“Goodness Daddy!” Isabella exclaimed as she wandered toward
them, wearing a frosty pink linen blouse with pearl buttons, dark blue riding
skirt, and a brown leather belt that matched her boots. She reminded Ben of a
pale rosebud just beginning to bloom. “You sure are talking Ben’s ears off when
he oughta be training.”

“It’s all right,” Ben said, smiling at Isaac. “Makes me feel
like I’m talking to my own pa.”

“Well, that is sweet.” She kissed her father on the cheek
and rubbed his whiskers. “I brought y’all something to eat. It’s on the porch,
all laid out. Clara fixed up some strawberry cobbler and shortbread cookies,
and I’ve got some fresh-squeezed lemonade in the pitcher.”

“That sounds real good, darlin’.” Isaac returned Isabella’s
kiss with a light peck on the forehead. “I do believe I’ll head on up to the
house and kick my feet up for a spell.”

“All right, Daddy. I’ll be up soon!” Isabella called to him
as he made his way back to the house. Ben found it amusing to watch the
contrast of Isaac’s casual, loping gait to the opulence of such a fine home as
the Middleton mansion. On the back of the house there were six large, white
columns which supported an upper balcony and a large lower porch that was about
as big as the kitchen and sitting room of Ben’s farm. Eight wooden rocking
chairs and a porch swing on either end provided ample space to relax after
supper. Ben enjoyed his evenings rocking with Isaac and the other men, talking
about the day’s events and the news from town, and watching the hanging Boston
ferns sway in the breeze. Yet, despite the warmth and hospitality he felt at Middleton,
he couldn’t help thinking about Fairington and what Billy, Tom, and the other
trainers were doing—and Angelina.

“Well,” Isabella purred as she stroked Midnight Storm’s nose,
“you wanna ride with me into town? I’ve got some shopping to do and thought you
might want to come along.”

“I don’t know,” Ben said, trying not to notice the blush in
her cheeks and the gentle waves in her brown hair. She was breathtaking, as
usual, but there was still something missing that he couldn’t quite identify.
“Might even buy you a little something at Davis Supply,” she said, batting her
eyelashes in an obvious way that almost made Ben laugh. “I saw you eyeing those
new chambray shirts they got in last week.” She looked up at him and smiled
extra big. “There was a dusty blue that would look real nice against your dark
skin.”

“I won’t have you buying me clothes, Isabella.”

“Well, you do need something nice to wear when you beat
Edward in the Challenge next week, don’t you think?”

Ben studied her expression, wondering if she was sincere in
her claims he could win. “I don’t take charity from anyone.”

“Charity?” she giggled. “I don’t give charity. I give
presents to people I like. And I like you,” she said, running her thumb along
the leather of his boot. “Don’t you know that by now?”

“Isabella.” Ben glared at her, suddenly feeling guilty, like
he was committing an act of betrayal. She frowned, and the guilt only worsened.
He didn’t like using that tone of voice or treating her so rough, but he wasn’t
in the mood to waste time on her girlish behavior. “I’ll take you into town,
but then I’ve got work to do.”

“May I ride with you?” she asked, peering at him from under
her long, dark eyelashes.

“No, I think you better get Meg. It’s about time you rode
your own horse into town.”

Her chin lowered as her eyes flittered a moment and then
looked toward the ground. He knew she was upset, but he wouldn’t budge. What
was foremost on his mind was getting back to work and preparing Midnight Storm
for the Challenge.

Angelina was late meeting Jessie for lunch at the Blue Ridge
Hotel. She and Tom had gone over the books and met with Dr. Barnes, the
veterinarian, for a biannual review of the horses, and so the morning had
gotten away from her. Things were going very well at Fairington, even with Ben
being at Middleton Farm for two weeks now. She missed him terribly but didn’t
let Jessie or Tom or the boys know, although she was sure Ella suspected. It
was hard to get anything past Ella.

Eagle’s Wing cantered toward Main Street and then slowed to
a trot as they passed the Methodist Church, Davis Supply, post office, and
Nelson’s Grocery, which was advertising a special on fresh fruits and
vegetables. Angelina waved to a few people, even Rebecca Thompson and Miranda
Sutherland, who whispered to each other and pointed as they window shopped, as
well as some of her mama’s friends from the Laurel Grove Women’s Society. She
passed the Corner Pharmacy and several more boutiques and shops, including
Hadden’s Haberdashery, where her daddy had purchased all of his clothes,
finally arriving at the Blue Ridge.

It was the first Wednesday of the month, and Mabel always
served Jessie’s favorite on this day—pot roast with onions, carrots, and new
potatoes, green bean casserole with cheddar cheese and bread crumbs, biscuits,
and hot apple pie with whipped cream for dessert. Angelina’s mouth watered
thinking about the dark, succulent meat that was cooked all night in ham hocks
and Mabel’s special beef stock.

Dismounting, she tied Eagle’s Wing to the hitching post and stepped
inside, taking in the delicious smells wafting from the kitchen. The clock over
the mantel chimed once, indicating it was half past eleven. Mabel normally
didn’t start serving until noon, so the restaurant was empty of other patrons,
which suited Angelina just fine. She wiggling her hands out of her riding
gloves and wandered into the foyer, trying her best to ignore the shame that filtered
through her insides at the sight of her naked ring finger. The diamond was
safely tucked away in her jewelry box at home, since she still couldn’t bear to
wear it. Ella and Jessie knew about Edward, so there was no need to keep it
hidden away in her pocket any longer.

A wave of nausea washed over Angelina every time she thought
of actually going through with a wedding to Edward.
Why won’t Isaac cut a
deal with me?
she thought. She had tried everything with that man, but had
gotten nowhere—which left her with no other option.
But how can I really
marry Edward Millhouse?
she had asked herself a thousand times. How could
she give Ben up? And yet, he would get his land back. He would be happy.

Her mind wandered briefly, thinking of how she might watch Ben
from under the oak tree as he restored his family home. They could see each
other as often as they wanted, but one day there would surely be a wife and
children. Ben wanted a family, like all men. Angelina bit her lip, fighting
back the tears. If Isaac bought the farm, there would be no doubt Isabella
would eventually win his heart. But if Angelina gave the land to him outright,
perhaps he would wait for her. Perhaps something horrible would happen to
Edward—

“No, Lord,” she whispered. “Those aren’t my thoughts. I
won’t think such evil things.” She pulled her lace handkerchief from her dress
sleeve and wiped her nose, sniffing back the tears. Something inside of her
kept saying,
wait, wait.
But for what, she didn’t know. She needed a
sign, some message from the Lord as to what to do. The race was in a week and
there was no indication Ben was recovered enough to defeat Edward. And yet, she
remembered something her mama used to say, “What is impossible with man, is
possible with God. For all things are possible with the Lord.”

Can Ben really win?
she wondered. A ray of hope
filled her soul for a moment, like the sun peeking from behind a cloud on a
rainy day.
Is there a
possibility after all?
She wanted to
believe it, but the facts pointed to the obvious, replacing the brightness with
a thick cloud of doubt. Edward was coming for dinner tonight, and he was
insisting that she make a decision. Ella had cleaned the house from top to
bottom and had ironed Angelina’s powder blue silk dress with ivory lace trim
and laid it out on the bed. And the meal she had planned was fit for a king.
She was preparing asparagus and cream cheese biscuits as an appetizer and a
main dish of chicken pot pie with a puff pastry crust, baby lima beans, Silver
Queen corn, fresh garden tomatoes, and an orange-glazed spice cake for dessert.
Angelina didn’t know how she was going to eat anything, feeling this nausea in
the pit of her stomach.