Where Love Runs Free (Tales from the Upcountry)

by Caroline Friday

  “No one’s as pretty as Mama,” she mused, staring at her reflection in the vanity mirror. She did look pretty—even beautiful—which was appropriate, since this was her night to celebrate. It was the evening of her long-awaited engagement party, and all of Laurel Grove was buzzing with excitement over the festivities. Even Jessie.

  “You do look like her, you know,” Jessie said, “even if you don’t want to admit it.” She kissed Angelina’s cheek and fluffed the skirt of her dress. “And you act like her too.”

  “Well, I’ll take that as a compliment.” Angelina smiled at Jessie, admiring her sister’s appearance. It was nice seeing her dressed up in a lavender silk gown with a touch of lace around the bodice that accentuated her brown eyes and slender figure—not to mention her straight, dark hair that was swept back into a soft chignon and flanked by a pair of delicate pearl earrings. Angelina was sure Jessie would get her fair share of dances before the night was through.

  “One thing I know,” Ella said, wrapping an arm around Angelina’s waist and the other around Jessie’s, “your mama’d be mighty proud of you girls. Mighty proud—and your daddy too. As pretty as a picture, you two are,” she said, staring into the full-length mirror with misty eyes. “There’s not a girl in Laurel Grove who can hold a candle to the Raefords. No, ma’am, not one. You mark my words. And Miss Jessie, I ’xpect to have you a husband ’fore all this wedding hoopla is over and done with.”

  “Oh, Ella, you know I’m not the marrying kind.”

  “Humph! We’ll see ’bout that,” she said, drying her cheeks once more. “Now come on, you two. We need to get the rest of the food out on the table, and y’all need to greet your guests proper. And that includes Mr. Edward, you hear me, Miss Angelina?”

  “Yes, ma’am, I hear you fine.”

  “Good. Time’s a wastin’, so let’s get a move on.”

  Ella shooed them toward the mahogany staircase to greet Edward, whose voice rose from the foyer above the gentle laugh of Ella’s niece, Clarissa. Angelina was glad it hadn’t taken him but a day to get over the incident with Ben at the Blue Ridge Hotel. He had been somber and quiet on the way home but hadn’t mentioned a word about it since. Ben should be ashamed of himself, she thought, embarrassed at his behavior. Despite what he thought about Edward, he shouldn’t have treated him with such disrespect, since it would only tarnish his own reputation. It was wrong of Ben, and Edward had every right to be angry. She was just thankful Edward was a true gentleman and knew how to take things in stride.

  Ella cleared her throat and nudged Angelina toward the top of the staircase, which seemed as high and steep as the edge of a cliff. Turning away from Clarissa, Edward gazed at Angelina with an expression that made her blush. He removed his Stetson, and in a grand, sweeping gesture, placed it over his heart and bowed. She hesitated a moment, forcing a smile, until Jessie poked her gently in the back. “Go!” she hissed.

  Gathering her skirts in her hands, Angelina floated down the stairs and greeted her future husband. His sandy hair was slicked back, revealing the sculpted angles of his tanned face, and his dark brown eyes flashed with a spark of mischievousness. With his deep brown three-piece suit and shiny, leather boots, he was more than handsome. Even Angelina had to admit that.

  “Now I can die and go to heaven,” he said, taking her hand in his, “’cause I’ve seen a real, true-to-life angel.” He brought her hand to his mouth and kissed it, leaving a wet, scratchy place that made her stomach lurch with that familiar wave of nausea. The look in his eye frightened her, like he could drain the soul right out of her if allowed.

  “Edward—you are sweet. And you look very handsome tonight.”

  “And you, my dear, are a vision.” Offering his arm, he settled his hat back on his head and smiled. “Shall we?”

  Angelina allowed him to guide her across the marble foyer to the dining room and front parlor. Ella and Clarissa bustled about, arranging silver platters, china plates, and crystal bowls full of diced fruit in honey nectar, sliced beef marinated in their special dill and rosemary herb sauce, spicy fried chicken, ham biscuits with seasoned mustard, and cabbage stuffed with rice and creamy beef, to name a few. An enormous floral arrangement anchored the long, oak dining table, consisting of magnolia blooms, pink and yellow roses, and fuchsia begonia blossoms, and tall, willowy cat tails that almost extended to the crystal chandelier. Her mama’s white Irish linens and Belgian lace runners adorned the main table and the mahogany sideboards, and there were silver and brass candelabra with burning, rose-colored candles at every turn, giving the whole house an ethereal, elegant glow. Angelina had never seen it look more beautiful. “Oh, Ella!” she said, feeling the tears prick the corners of her eyes.

  “Don’t you dare cry, now. Mr. Edward, you tell her, I don’t want her messin’ up that pretty face over candles, flowers, and a little home cookin’.”

  “I don’t know, Ella. I don’t blame her for tearing up over this. You sure have put on a spread,” Edward boasted, popping a miniature cheese puff in his mouth. “Mmm, mmm. That’s mighty tasty.”

  “Not too salty?” Ella asked.

  “No, ma’am. That’s real good.”

  “All right, well go on outside and meet your guests. Go on.” Ella waved them off like she was shooing a pair of birds out the window. “Look! People’re already comin’ up the drive.”

  Edward opened the front door for Angelina and ushered her into a more wondrous spectacle than the dining room and main parlor. The front porch was adorned with flowering pots bordering the porch railing and hanging baskets filled with spider plants, Boston ferns, pink and white begonias, and red geraniums. Flickering oil lamps lined the walk to the house and into the garden area where a large white tent housed a five-man fiddle band in black tuxedos and temporary wooden dance floor. Near the band was a long, buffet table covered in a full-length tablecloth with another enormous floral arrangement, two silver candelabra, and about a dozen cakes and pies. There was a tall, white coconut cake with cherries on top, a chocolate pie with whipped cream, lemon meringue custard topped with strawberries, and an apple cobbler. Then there were iced sugar cookies, chocolate and walnut brownies, and Ella’s famous chocolate fudge. Angelina’s corset tightened looking at all of the delectable treats. Too bad she wasn’t the least bit hungry.

  “Oh, Angelina Raeford, you are lovely . . .”

  “Congratulations to you and Edward. It’s about time he found a good woman . . .”

  “Oh, that dress is gorgeous! You remind me of your mama, lookin’ as fresh as a daisy . . .”

  Angelina worked the crowd, smiling, chatting, and shaking hands with all of Laurel Grove, pretending to be happy. First, there was Reverend Michaels from the Methodist Church, along with Mabel Andersen and some of her mother’s old friends from the Women’s Society. Then there was Jessie and some of her riding companions and Edward and his breeders from Rutherford Hall. Isabella Richardson whispered and giggled with Rebecca Thompson and Miranda Sutherland, wearing her blue silk gown and diamond and pearl earrings. Angelina nodded and smiled but decided she didn’t have to talk to them.

  “How’s that wild stallion doin’ for ya?” Isaac asked, joining Angelina as she watched the party from the covered porch. He offered her a cup of fruit punch and smiled his familiar tobacco-stained smile.

  “Oh, he’s fine—just fine.”

  “You broke him in yet?”

  “I’m working on it,” she said, sipping the sweet liquid.

  “Well, like I said, he’d be a good contender for the Carolina Challenge this year. You thought about that?”

  “I’ve thought about it,” she nodded, batting her eyelashes so he wouldn’t be offended at what she was about to say. “But who I enter in the Challenge is my business, Isaac Richardson. I certainly won’t be telling you any of my secrets.”

  “Smart lady,” he said, taking a gulp of punch. “Good head for business like your daddy. Who knows? Maybe you’ll be able to teach that future husband of y
ours a thing or two—”

  “What’s this?” Edward slithered up behind Angelina, his breath hot on her neck. “You planning on teaching me something?”

  “Naw,” Isaac said with a chuckle, trying to lighten the mood. “We were just talkin’ ’bout the Carolina Challenge.”

  “You mean the race I’ve won three years standing? What more will you two teach me about winning, hmm?”

  “You haven’t seen Midnight Storm run,” Angelina said.

  “That’s the new stallion I sold her a few weeks back,” Isaac added. “Wanted to know if she’s got him good and broke by now.”

  In the distance, a light shone from the bunkhouse and the laughter of a group of men made its way across the garden. Angelina noticed Tom’s distinctive, loping gait, Mitchell and Billy smacking their Stetsons against their thighs, and Stevie and Ward following behind. And last to come was a tall figure of a man with long, black hair to his waist.

  “Are you sure we aren’t talking about that wild Indian she’s got shovelin’ stalls?” Edward quipped, glaring in Ben’s direction.

  “Edward, don’t be rude.”

  “Rude? I’d say he wins the award for rudeness, telling me to get off my own land.”

  As Ben and the other men approached, Edward whispered in her ear, “I don’t want you near him, tonight.”

  “But he works for me,” Angelina said, getting a good look at Ben’s crisp white shirt, dark canvas trousers, and black leather vest. His brown skin and bright eyes made her heart skip a beat—he did look wild, yet tame at the same time. “He’s our guest. I have to say ‘good evening’ at least.”

  “I’ve never asked anything of you, Angelina, other than for you to be my wife. But tonight I’m telling you to do as I say, you hear?”

  “Edward—” She stared at him, trying to understand the tone in his voice.

  “I’ve seen the way that half-breed savage looks at you, and I won’t have it,” he said, squeezing her arm. “I’ve heard about you riding with him, eating in the bunkhouse—even at the Blue Ridge. And it’s gonna stop. Tonight. I mean it, Angelina.”

  “You’re hurting me,” she said, pulling against him.

  “He lays a dirty finger one more time on what’s mine, well—I don’t wanna say, other than you might have one less stable hand at Fairington.”

  “Are you threatening me?” she whispered, conscious there were people watching, including Isaac. “’Cause when you threaten my men, you threaten me.”

  Edward stared at her with that sinister, eerie look that sent a ripple of fear through her. “He isn’t one of your men.”

  “Get your hands off me,” she said, pushing him away.

  “Miss Raeford!” Tom removed his hat and ran his fingers through his thin hair. “Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes!” He flashed a warning Edward’s way and then smiled at her. “I’m sure you know, but you’re the spittin’ image of your mama in that dress.”

  “That she is,” Edward said, ravishing her with his eyes. He grabbed her hand and entwined his fingers in hers, squeezing tightly so that the diamond cut into her skin. As Ben and the other men approached, he leaned over and breathed into her ear, “Now, kiss me like you mean it.” Before Angelina had time to think, he swept her into his arms and kissed her with his bushy mouth, suffocating her with the stench of death.

  CHAPTER 9

  Ben’s heart shot up into his throat at seeing Angelina imprisoned in Edward’s embrace. Lord, help me get through this night. He looked away, ignoring the applause from some of the men as Angelina blushed a deep red, while Mabel and the older ladies scowled with disapproval. Edward’s impropriety was shocking for a supposed South Carolina gentleman, but to Ben, it was no surprise. He thought of his mother and how she had begged for mercy.

  Ben grit his teeth and wandered over to the music tent, trying to erase the image of Edward’s filth defiling Angelina’s beauty. It pained him to see how lovely she looked in that silk dress with elegant rubies nestled at the base of her throat. He hadn’t wanted to come in the first place, but curiosity had gotten the better of him—plus he didn’t want to risk giving her another reason to be angry. He wanted more than anything for her to look at him the way she did that day she fell from Midnight Storm and lay safely cradled in his arms.

  “Hello there, Mr. Smith,” a soft voice drifted toward him. “You enjoying yourself?”

  Ben caught a glimpse of Isabella’s blue gown and bright expression, and immediately, his mood changed. “It’s Eagle-Smith,” he said firmly.

  “Alright, Mr. Eagle-Smith. You having a good time?”

  “You want the truth?”

  She giggled, unmoved by his serious demeanor. “I guess that’s a no.”

  “You guessed right.”

  “Why? Aren’t you used to parties where you come from?”

  “You mean ’cause I’m a half-breed?”

  “No, I didn’t say that—”

  “No one ever says it, but they think it,” he said, staring into the distance. “They think we’re animals, not fit for white society.”

  “I don’t think that,” she said, gently touching his arm. “If truth be told, my great-great-grandma was a full-blood Cherokee,” she whispered, “except Daddy doesn’t ever say anything about it.” Her voice took on an apologetic tone. “I think it’s a shame not to be proud of your own heritage. Can you imagine? No one even knows what her name was.”

  “Come on, Ben,” Billy said, dragging a giggling Miranda Sutherland behind him. “You and Miss Richardson come on out to the dance floor, and I’ll show you how to do the two-step.”

  Isabella looked at Ben and shrugged her shoulders, smiling. “Shall we, Mr. Eagle-Smith?”

  His eye caught the glimmer of a diamond earring and a pearl dangling below it. She reminded him of a beautiful china doll with flawless skin and a pink glow to her cheeks—dainty and breakable, yet possessing an inner strength. “Call me Ben, if you want,” he said, offering his hand.

  She flashed her delicate, white smile and floated with him to the dance floor, where Sam and Miranda and Tom and Mabel Andersen enjoyed a dance. Even Isaac Richardson danced his own form of a jig with Rebecca Thompson, whose fiancé, Robert Ellwood, looked on with a frown. Before long, Ben’s spirits lifted sky-high at all the fun and excitement. He liked the way Isabella’s curls bounced up and down on her soft shoulders while her diamond and pearl necklace shifted back and forth against her porcelain skin. She felt small and soft in his arms, yet solid and strong at the same time. That, and the way the blue silk made her eyes take on a smoky hazel, captivated him. She was beautiful by any man’s standard—either white or red—yet she was missing something that he couldn’t quite put his finger on.

  “Alrighty, all you gentleman, we’re gonna switch partners. On a count of three,” the fiddle player announced.

  Isabella giggled and gave Ben a peck on the cheek before floating into Billy’s arms and twirling away. Ben swung Miranda around the room, loving the sound of her silly laughter as it caressed his ear. For a moment, he forgot why he was there, and that Angelina was probably wrapped tightly in the arms of Edward Millhouse, dancing the night away.

  “Gentlemen, one more time,” the fiddle player called again. “On the count of three, we’re gonna switch. One, two—two and a half—three!” Miranda was whisked away by Mitchell, leaving Ben without a partner. He looked across the crowd and saw Jessie tapping her foot before being swept into Edward’s dark form. Angelina was nowhere to be found.

  Digging his hands into his trouser pockets, he moseyed over to the dessert table, catching a glimpse of his reflection in a gilded mirror propped up on the table behind Ella’s cakes and pies. Normally he didn’t like getting dressed up in white man’s clothes, but the clean, pressed shirt, thin black tie, and leather vest made him look elegant and polished—with the exception of his hair. It was a source of pride for every Cherokee man—long, straight, and shiny, like the velvety coat of a wild stallion. It hadn’t been cu
t in over two years.

  Grabbing a sugar cookie, he wandered to the stables to check on Mighty Wind. Miss Majestic, which was Jessie’s horse, whinnied and neighed like it normally did, and Ginger Snap snorted. The gray mare, Full Moon, simply nodded in silence, minding its own business. Some of the other horses, like Eagle’s Wing and another brown gelding with a white star on its face, Captain’s Galley, were out to pasture, which left Mighty Wind and Midnight Storm alone in the back of the barn.

  After giving Midnight Storm a handful of sugar cubes, Ben led Mighty Wind outside. The moon was full and the North Star shone bright, illuminating the open fields that led into the distance. Something beckoned him to ride far away and escape all that was going on at the party. Without another thought, he jumped on the stallion’s back and stole away into the night.

  Angelina rode Eagle’s Wing as fast as she could up to Palmetto Ridge, not caring about her silk gown or the rose blossoms Jessie had carefully arranged in her hair. She had to get away from Edward and the image of Ben with his arms around Isabella’s waist. Angelina hated to admit it, but Isabella did look lovely in her blue silk gown and pearls, and Ben seemed to waste no time being taken in by her flirtations. Well, he is a man, isn’t he? her mind argued against her heart. Yes, she reasoned, but how could he have ignored her new rose-colored dress, mama’s ruby jewelry, and hair done up fancy like one of those Charleston girls? Was it because of Edward?

  Angelina blushed with shame at the memory of Edward’s touch—and in front of Ben and all of their guests. If her mama was alive, she would’ve been mortified, and her daddy too. Edward would’ve surely seen the end of his shotgun. Cringing, Angelina grimaced at the taste he left in her mouth, along with his crude words. She wanted to scream, to purge the thought from her consciousness forever.