Where Love Runs Free (Tales from the Upcountry) (23 page)

The sun was close to dipping below the horizon, ushering in
another peaceful night on top of Palmetto Ridge. Angelina lay under the oak
tree, staring at the palette of yellows, purples, and pinks swirled together in
the sky like a bouquet of summer daisies. She was dog tired after sitting up
all night and day with Jessie, Tom, and Billy while Ginger Snap gave birth to
her foal. It was a beauty—a newborn colt with an auburn, red dun coat, gangly
legs, and the innocent face of a fawn—and stood up within minutes of being
born. Its father was a sixteen hand liver chestnut stallion from Woodland
Falls, one of the finest horse farms around, so it was sure to be a champion
racehorse. She had let Jessie pick the name, and it was Red Sky—a good choice
in Angelina’s opinion.

Angelina smiled at the memory of Jessie doting on the new
addition to Fairington. Red Sky was one of three foals born to Fairington mares
in the past year. Her daddy would certainly be pleased with the growth of the
farm, and yet, there was a heaviness in Angelina’s heart, a lack of peace. Her
thoughts constantly drifted to Ben, and when they did, she heard Isabella’s
accusations ringing in her head, along with the image of Ben holding Isabella
in his arms.

The little wooden box with her initials lay by her side as
she rolled Ben’s arrowhead over and over in her palm. She had hidden it away in
the hollow of the tree several weeks ago, but now it seemed wrong to keep it
buried in the ground. Sighing deeply, Angelina rubbed her thumb and fingers
against the edge of the stone—it was still sharp enough to cut, like it had the
night of the engagement party. She remembered the blood on her hands and the
smear on Ben’s face that made him look more like a savage than ever.
Why had
she done that?
she wondered, hating herself for making him more vulnerable
to Edward’s attacks. If she had known where all of this would lead, she would
have run away with Ben that very night.

Wiping her eyes, Angelina
rolled onto her back and stared at the swaying tree limbs and rustling leaves.
She couldn’t bear to look at what lay below her on the other side of the
ridge—a black, yawning, cavernous ruin that used to be Ben’s home. Guilt
slammed down on her chest, making it difficult to breathe. Closing her eyes,
she could see Isabella’s finger jabbing the air, pointed straight at Angelina—it
was
her
fault
Edward was so cruel, it was
her fault
Ben
was in this predicament, that he didn’t have the peace, love, and respect he
needed. She could almost hear Isabella’s voice hissing in her ear,
You don’t
really love Ben, and he doesn’t love you. You only love yourself. Selfish, selfish,
you should be ashamed!

Angelina winced as the
arrowhead sliced into the center of her palm, oozing a bubble of blood. “I’m
sorry, Lord!” she cried, wiping her hand on the mossy ground. Isabella was
right—she had been selfish, thinking only of herself. If she had gone to Ben
earlier that night and not sat through dinner, watching Edward gorge himself,
or if she had never taken Edward’s ring back, giving him hope that she would
marry him, or if she had just run away with Ben when he first came back to
Fairington—she had struck him that night in the barn when she could have thrown
her arms around him. Now it was too late. Mighty Wind was gone, the Smith house
was gone, and Ben’s beautiful hair, not to mention Edward’s humiliating
beating. How could Ben ever look at her again and not blame her for all he had
lost?

Angelina wept until her
throat ached and her body jerked uncontrollably, giving her a serious case of
the hiccups. The tears flowed and her nose ran, soaking the edges of her
sleeves.
What am I going to do?
she asked herself.
How can I ever make
things right?
She thought of Ben’s firm physique under the brown skin made
darker from the sun, the sculpted face, and the long, silky dark hair that was
lost to the fire. Had she truly lost him forever? A new wave of tears washed
over her, and a voice came behind it,
Forgiveness is yours. All is forgiven.

The full moon and twinkling stars were blanketed by a layer
of low-lying clouds which made the evening darker than usual.  Angelina
shuddered as a gentle breeze blew across the ridge, signaling autumn’s
approach. She sat up quickly, wiping her face and neck, not wanting to think
about the cold and the winter holidays to follow. She couldn’t bear seeing
Fairington decorated with greenery, red ribbon, and gifts wrapped in brown
paper and gingham, as well as the wonderful smells coming from the
kitchen—cinnamon, sugar, nutmeg, and apple—all without Ben there. And then
there would be sleigh rides if it snowed.
Where will he be?
she
wondered, feeling her throat constrict again.
Will he be with Isabella?

Angelina bound her hand with a handkerchief and tucked the
arrowhead in the little box, slipping it into her skirt pocket. Taking a deep
breath, she stood to her feet, being careful to duck under a thick tree limb.
Then stepping out from underneath the foliage, she braced herself for another
view of the Smith Farm. It was easier to observe after sunset than at the
height of day when the sun’s rays exposed every bit of destruction. She dreaded
looking again but couldn’t stop herself. And besides, Eagle’s Wing had wandered
near the old vegetable garden.

“Eagle’s Wing?” she called, hearing a soft neighing from afar.
“Come here.” She made her way down the ridge, being careful to avoid slipping
on a patch of exposed dirt and rocks. Checking her balance, she gathered
momentum and scurried to the bottom, finally reaching the flat grass that grew
waist high. “Eagle’s Wing?” There was a rustling near the barn and the swish of
something that could have been a horse’s tail, although it looked more like the
fluttering of a white curtain.

Angelina crunched through a patch of scorched grass and
slogged through the mud to the barn, but Eagle’s Wing wasn’t there. “Eagle’s
Wing?” A stiff breeze blew a fresh waft of smoke straight into her nostrils,
making her cough. Immediately the barn door slammed shut several times,
snapping against the lock.
How could he have gotten into the barn?
she
wondered.

Pulling against the old metal latch, she opened the wooden
door with a creak, glad the rusty hinges didn’t give way. The interior was dark
and gloomy, so different from what she remembered. She recalled the fresh scent
of hay and the sound of horses moving in the stalls and feeding on oats and
straw. Now everything was dusty and moldy-smelling with cobwebs drifting from
the rafters like the long, fluid arms of a dancer. “Eagle’s Wing?” she called
hesitantly. “It’s time to go home now.”

A movement in the back of the barn gave her pause. She
hesitated a moment and then crept into the darkness, watching her every step.
“You back here, boy?” Suddenly, loud voices and the rumbling of horse hooves
outside sent a jolt of fear straight through the top of her head. She tried to
breathe, but the air in the barn was as thick as a slab of old butter. She
wanted to move, but her limbs seemed frozen solid.

The voices got louder. They were men, and there were several
of them. Inching her way to the door, Angelina slowly pushed it open, and a
light from a lantern struck her in the face. The next thing she knew, she was
down on the ground with a hand over her mouth and lips at her ear whispering,
“Shh. Qui-et.” She struggled against the force pulling her back into the
darkness, hearing a soft whisper against her cheek. “It’s me.”

She grew still and turned to see Ben. He pressed his index
finger over his lips and pointed to the swinging lantern that entered the barn.
Grabbing her by the hand, he pulled her behind a mound of hay and pushed her to
the ground. They lay very still and quiet, and yet Angelina could hear every
beat of her heart and every pump of blood whooshing through her ears. She
squeezed her eyes shut as the lantern passed over them and stopped a moment,
shining on the edge of her boot. She quickly tucked her feet up under her skirt,
praying they hadn’t been seen.

 The lantern swung back and forth for a moment, and a man
called, “No one in here, sir!” Angelina recognized Mason’s voice. The light
moved closer to their hiding place, and a whisper came. “You two is plumb crazy
to be out here like this. Just plumb crazy!” He stomped away and the barn door
slammed shut, leaving Ben and Angelina in the darkness with only a sliver of
moonlight to illuminate their surroundings. She looked into Ben’s eyes, and he
pulled her close, laying his finger to his lips again.

The voices rumbled outside, and then Edward’s came through,
loud and clear. “I want that filly. He’s gonna hang as a horse thief if I don’t
see that animal back at Rutherford by tomorrow morning!”

Horses neighed and shouts followed, until finally the thundering
of hooves disappeared into the night. Angelina opened her mouth to speak, but
Ben placed his hand over it and shook his head. She relaxed in his embrace and
remained silent, listening to the chirp of a cricket and the distant croak of a
bullfrog. The scent of his skin swirled around her—a mixture of honeysuckle and
raspberry, reminding her of their childhood when they feasted on wild flowers
and berries when hunger struck. With every breath, his bare chest rose and fell
in rhythm to the flutter of her eyelids. She tried not to stare at his wounds,
but there was one large red welt across his chest that drew her focus. When she
reached out to touch it, he gently pulled away.

Rising to his knees, Ben waited a moment, listening. He then
crept toward the barn door and pushed it open an inch before opening it wide.
The men were gone. Angelina rose and followed him outside to where the moon
cast a soft glow on the earth below. “Where are the horses?” she whispered.

“Come,” he said, motioning with his hand.

She followed him to the edge of the woods, down the dirt
trail that lead to the main road, and deep into the forest. “Where are we going?”
she hissed, concerned that Edward might be lurking nearby. Ben smiled and
grabbed her hand, leading her through a thick layer of underbrush that
surrounded a giant oak tree with a makeshift ladder nailed to the trunk.
Eagle’s Wing and Midnight Storm were tethered at the root, just yards away from
an appaloosa filly that munched on a healthy supply of hay and grass. “What is
this place?” she asked.

“A secret.” He smiled and looked up at the tree limbs where
a crude platform was secured. “Guess you could call it my ‘home away from
home.’”

The filly whinnied and swished its tail as it bit into a
mouthful of hay. “My,” Angelina said, admiring its long legs and beautiful form,
“and who are you, little lady?”

“Name’s White Flower,” Ben said. “At least that’s what I
call her.”

“She’s the filly Edward’s looking for?”

Ben nodded. “I paid a visit to Rutherford Hall.”

“What?” Angelina looked at him, wide eyed.

“It was by accident. But it was a good thing. I was able to
clear up some matters between us.” Ben hesitated a moment, his chest filled with
emotion. “I forgave him. For everything.”

“Forgave him? How could you—after all he’s done?”

“I don’t expect you to understand. I know what he did was
wrong, and it always will be. And I know he’s an evil man—but I had to do it,
especially before I ran the Challenge. I don’t want anything from the past
weighing me down and holding me back from what the Lord has planned.” Angelina
remained silent for a moment, trying to fathom what he was saying. “And anyway,
the filly—she followed me here.”

Angelina stroked the horse’s long, lean neck, giving it a
good scratch behind the ears. “Well, we’ve gotta take her back. You heard what
Edward said. Doesn’t sound like he’s much in the forgiving mood.”

“I’ve tried, but she won’t go. I even took her back and tied
her to the training ring, but she just snapped the rope clean in two.”

Angelina smiled, imagining what a sight that would be to see
the look on Edward’s face at witnessing an unbroken horse escape his grasp.
“She is a beauty,” Angelina purred, running her fingers through the filly’s
long mane.

“Smart too,” Ben added. He stood beside Angelina and stroked
its sleek coat. “Looks like she’ll do anything to get away from him and his
evil ways.”

Angelina stomach dropped at this subtle accusation. The
guilt was back, accusing her with its long, crooked finger. “You say you’ve
forgiven Edward—but what about me?”

“What would I forgive you for?”

“Everything.”

Angelina felt the heat from his arm as he drew closer and
stroked the filly with long, even movements. “I don’t blame you.”

“Isabella says you do. She says all I care about is myself,
that I’m the one who provoked Edward into doing what he did.”

“It’s not true.” His mouth hovered near her ear so that his
voice ripped through her like a crackling fire. “Don’t believe a word of what
she says.”

Angelina stared into his eyes, which were dark and soft,
like the fur of a forest animal. “I told Edward I never wanted to see him
again, that he could never set foot on Fairington as long as I had breath in my
body. All those months—I didn’t know who he was, what he was capable of doing.
But I do now. Maybe one day I can forgive him too. But I know I never want
anything more to do with him.” Ben stared at her a moment and then looked away.
“You do believe me, don’t you?”

“I want to.” There was sorrow in his voice and pain in his
eyes that hurt like a stab to her chest. Suddenly, a fresh wave of nausea
coated her stomach.

“Ben.” Grabbing his arm, she looked at him long and hard,
marveling at how the moonlight accentuated the angles on his face. He was
breathtaking. “You know I would never do anything to hurt you.”