As soon as Eagle’s Wing reached the old oak tree, Angelina slid off its back and scurried under the protection of the low-lying branches, sobbing a lonely, bone-chilling wail. How in the world had she gotten herself into this predicament? She felt like a prisoner—like an innocent bird whose wings were beating against the sides of a cage she had forged herself. She didn’t have to marry Edward, did she? They really didn’t need his money after all. She and Jessie could live out their lives on the land with their horses to keep them company. But then what would happen to Fairington?
Edward’s threatening words ripped through her mind, hanging heavy over her. What would he do if she broke their engagement this late in their betrothal? She had gone too far with him, and now his true nature was revealed. He was evil and mean, but deep down she had always known this, hadn’t she? She wasn’t a fool—he hadn’t amassed the sort of wealth he flaunted without being ruthless. The truth was she thought she could handle him, but now his threats extended beyond her and Jessie—and Fairington. They extended to Ben.
Closing her eyes, she winced at some of the stories she had heard, about Edward’s viciousness toward those who opposed him, as well as his occasional liberties with the native women. Surely everything Ben said about him had some measure of truth. Angelina fell to the mossy ground and looked through the leaves, staring at the moon and the stars—thinking of the Cherokee boy with long, dark hair who lay on the ground next to her so many times, like this. Reaching toward the base of the roots, she dug her hand down into the hole and pulled out her wooden box, retrieving the arrowhead hidden inside. She clutched it tightly to her chest, feeling the sharp point with her thumb—sharp enough to break the skin and draw blood if she pressed hard enough. What she wouldn’t do to fall into his arms and run away with him to a secluded place in the mountains perhaps, where no one could find them—to a place where they could be free.
The pounding of horse hooves startled her, forcing her to sit up and wipe her eyes. Straining in the dark, she saw the silvery silhouette of a man riding a stallion, bareback. Fear gripped her as he swung his leg over the horse’s head and made his way toward the tree. She clenched the arrowhead in her hand and rose to her feet, backing up to the tree trunk and the safety of the thick leaves. But it was no use. He had seen her for sure.
Ben ducked under a limb and stood under the canopy of the oak tree, which protected them from the rest of the world. “Go away,” she said. “Just go away.”
“I won’t,” he said calmly, even though his breathing was deep and jagged.
“You will—you will!” She bit her lip, trying her best not to cry, but tears streamed down her cheeks, and sobs erupted out of her like vomit.
He moved toward her and she cowered away. For the longest time, he stood quietly, staring at her and listening to her weep. “Angel,” he whispered.
She glared at him with the tip of the arrowhead raised near her head and fire leaping from her eyes. She hated him for standing there and doing nothing. She hated him for looking at her that way. “You’ll do as I say—”
Before she knew it, he was there, pressing his strength against her, with one arm around her waist and the other prying the arrowhead from her hand. She yelped as the edge of the blade cut her finger, causing it to ooze a dark substance. She tried to break free, smearing the blood across his face, but he pulled her closer until she was staring into his very soul—the soul of the boy she loved long ago.
“It’s too late,” she whispered. “It’s too late—”
A flicker of sorrow swept over his expression and then a look of anger that scared her. The glow from the moon accentuated his cheekbones and pulsating jaw, and his eyes took on a dark and wild look that stirred something in her heart. “It’s not,” he whispered back.
Fear enveloped her like a cloud, paralyzing her very thoughts as the look intensified, pulling her into him and uniting their spirits with a power she had never felt before. His fingers gripped the back of her hair so that the tortoiseshell comb fell to the ground, but for some reason, she didn’t mind. Her head tilted back, and his mouth descended on hers, slowly at first, and then slamming her back in time to when Mama and Daddy were alive and when Jessie was more of a tomboy than ever, and when she first hid the arrowhead in the tree—their tree.
She sank to her knees, but his lips remained on hers, breathing in new life. His long, dark hair shrouded her like a veil, protecting her from the world in a way the oak tree could not. She didn’t care what anyone thought, even her parents who were looking on from heaven. Let them all look, let them all know who I really love, her heart said, even though her mind was screaming at her to stop. For the first time in a long time, Angelina felt alive and free. And for the first time in a long time, she was.
CHAPTER 10
The hours had slipped away, and it was now very late. A general sense of peace blanketed the night as the horses grazed nearby, gently neighing from time to time. Ben lay under the oak tree with Angelina asleep in his arms. He rubbed his finger along the edge of the arrowhead, remembering her birthday years ago when he had chiseled it in perfect proportion like his Uncle Bear Claw had instructed. It pleased him to know she had kept it all this time.
Rolling to his side, Ben propped up on his elbow and basked in the beauty of Angelina’s dark eyelashes resting on her pale cheeks. She was perfectly sculpted, with high cheekbones and wide-set eyes that made her look mysterious and refined. He couldn’t resist kissing her on the mouth, hoping she would awaken. Smiling, she opened her eyes and yawned, throwing her arms around his neck. “Oh, Ben,” she whispered, burying her face in his hair, “what in the world am I gonna tell Edward?”
“Tell him he’s a thief and a liar who speaks the devil’s language, and he better repent and come to the Lord or he’s going straight to hell.”
“Ben!” she teased. “I’m serious.”
“So am I.”
“And what about Isabella Richardson?” she asked, her voice lowering. “What’re you gonna tell her?”
He shrugged his shoulders. “Nothing, I expect.”
“Nothing?” she asked, giving him a sassy look. “It sure looked like you were enjoying yourself, dancing with her silly self.”
He kissed her on the nose. “It was one dance.”
“And Miranda Sutherland,” she added, raising an eyebrow.
“I don’t love any of those girls. Same as you don’t love him. You never have. You can tell him that.”
“He knows it already.”
“Then tell him you don’t need his stinking money. That God’ll get you all the money you need for what He has planned for Fairington.”
“How do you know what God’s gonna do?” she asked.
“I read it somewhere.”
“Where?”
He reached inside his vest and pulled out the little black leather Bible with Angelina’s initials embossed on it. “I think it’s in a book you gave me long ago, written by a man named Paul, with the strange name of Philippians.”
She ran her hand across the cover, trying to hold back the tears. “You kept it.”
“Of course. ’Cause you gave it to me.” He flipped to the back and read, “But my God shall supply all your need according to his riches in glory by Christ Jesus. Philippians 4:19.” He closed the Bible with a snap and stared into her eyes.
“Are you a preacher now?”
“No, I’m no preacher, but I do like to preach—when it’s needed.”
“And you think I need it?”
“Well, don’t you?”
“I reckon so,” she said, resting her chin on his chest. “I should have known better than to think I could depend on Edward Millhouse to provide for my needs. God has blessed Fairington for a long time now, and I believe He’s gonna keep on blessing it.” She smiled and gave him a peck on the cheek, followed by a soft kiss on the mouth. “I’ve only got one need—and that’s to be with you.”
A gust of wind blew across the ridge, rustling the l
eaves on the oak tree and bringing with it a blast of cool air with the smell of rain. “I guess we better be getting on back,” Ben said. “He’s gonna be looking for you. And no telling what Jessie and Ella are gonna say.”
They arose without a word, signaling the horses with a whistle. Ben helped Angelina onto the saddle and gently adjusted her foot in the stirrup. He caressed the top of her ankle, placing his lips on the valley dipping below her ankle-bone. She looked beautiful and powerful, sitting astride a thoroughbred wearing a silk dress with jewels at her throat. She reminded Ben of a queen from some fairy tale.
“You’ll wait for me, won’t you?” she said. “No matter what happens? You’ll let me settle this.”
He didn’t answer, but his silence spoke volumes. As she bent down to kiss him, he grabbed a lock of curls that fell to her shoulders and caressed it, memorizing its silky feel. Would they ever have another moment like this? Is she really mine, Lord?
She pulled away, and in a moment was gone, disappearing into the open field that led back to Fairington. The last thing he saw was the billowing of pink silk over Eagle’s Wing’s tail and the flow of blonde curls dancing in the breeze.
“Where in the tarnation have you been?” Edward’s face was stormy and gray, reflecting the rumbling thunder that made Eagle’s Wing whinny and paw the dirt. The party had ended hours ago, but Jessie was still up, her cheeks streaked with tear-stains. Ella was also wide awake and hopping mad, standing against the front door with her arms crossed and her toe tapping the porch floor in a crude, disjointed rhythm.
Angelina avoided Edward’s glare, trying to decide whether she should dismount or give the gelding a good kick in the sides and disappear forever.
“Hey there, Miss Raeford.” Tom cleared his throat and removed his Stetson, settling the matter. “Why don’t you let Mitchell here take Eagle’s Wing? He’ll get him brushed and bedded down for the night. How’s that sound?”
“That sounds real good, Tom.” She dismounted, not caring how awkward she looked in her soiled dress. After passing the reins to Mitchell, she braced herself and faced Edward, catching a whiff of his exhale—a putrid combination of tobacco and salted beef.
“Well, you don’t have anything to say?”
“No,” she said, shaking her head.
He stepped closer with teeth clenched like he wanted to hit her, but she wasn’t the least bit afraid. She pitied him now—he was a pathetic shell of a man. “You run off in the night with the whole town here, celebrating our upcoming wedding, and you don’t tell a soul?”
“There isn’t going to be a wedding, Edward.”
Jessie sunk into one of the rockers, and Ella turned on her heel, slamming through the front door. Suddenly, Tom’s strong presence was beside her, giving her protection. “No wedding?” Edward chuckled, seemingly confused. “Now that’s fine. Just fine—” He grabbed her hand and flashed the diamond ring in her face so that the stone sparkled. “You’re wearing my ring. You know what that means?” He drew closer, like an oppressive force. “You and I have an agreement.”
“I’m not one of your business deals,” Angelina said, prying the ring off her finger and thrusting it toward him. “I can’t be bought. Not anymore.”
He took another step toward her, but suddenly Tom was there by her side. “Careful, Mr. Millhouse. A woman’s got a right to change her mind, particularly on matters of the heart. You may not like it now, but it’s for the best. It’s gonna save you a whole buncha heartache later on. Trust me on this.”
“Trust me—” Edward’s voice was distant and remote, as though he was pondering the meaning of Tom’s words. “If there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s not to trust anyone. Not a single, solitary soul,” he said, glaring at Angelina. He then grabbed her arm and pulled her close, shoving the ring in her face. “You’re gonna put this back on, and you’re gonna act right, you hear?”
“Mr. Millhouse!” Tom yelled, trying his best to pry Edward loose.
“Put it on, I tell you!” Edward repeated, growling like a wild animal. “Put it on!”
An approaching horse neighed in the distance, piercing the thickness of the night. Angelina knew who it was before Ben swung his leg over Mighty Wind’s head and jumped to the ground. “Don’t—Ben,” Angelina pleaded. But he wasn’t listening. He marched up to Edward with his jaw locked and fists clenched. “Leave him be!” she cried.
Edward grinned, unmoved by her desperate pleas or Ben’s angry demeanor. His eyes stopped on Ben’s long hair and the smear of blood across his face. “A savage—just like his ma.”
Time seemed to stand still as an eerie, suffocating silence thickened the air, warning Angelina of what was about to happen. Suddenly, Jessie screamed a sharp, shrill cry as Ben slammed his fist into Edward’s face, sending him down to the ground on his backside where he belonged. “Don’t you touch her!” he hollered with a voice that was deep and rich, like it was coming from the depths of a dark, wet cave.
“Ben, just go—Go!” Angelina cried again and again.
Tom and Mitchell grabbed Ben, one on each arm, stopping him from striking Edward again. He glared at Edward’s crumpled form for what seemed like an eternity and then turned and looked at Angelina with a piercing stare. “Come with me.”
Blood rushed from Angelina’s head down to the tips of her toes, locking her feet into the dusty soil. Instinct told her to remove her gaze from those eyes that pleaded with her to come and follow her heart, but there was something else inside of her that couldn’t turn away. She wanted more than anything to jump on Mighty Wind’s back, to wrap her arms around Ben and never let go, but her mind was fighting against it. It argued practicality, order, and commitment. Looking at him now, she couldn’t help but focus on his dark skin and untamed hair. They were different people after all, from different worlds—she needed time to think, to consider her decision. There was the Raeford name to consider and her daddy’s legacy, and of course, Fairington.
“I can’t,” she whispered, as confusion descended on her, paralyzing her thoughts as much as her tears clouded her vision. “I can’t. Not now.” A shadow moved across Ben’s brow, darkening his stare.
Edward rose to his feet and wiped the blood from his mouth. “You don’t have what she needs,” he said. “You don’t have anything, not a cent to your name except that horse and a taste for revenge. And that won’t get her very far when it comes to making Fairington what we all know it can be.”
“That’s not true! Don’t listen to him,” Angelina said.
Ben’s eyes glistened as a look of hatred seemed to leap from his soul, boring daggers in Edward. “I’ve got my land—”
“That land doesn’t belong to you.”
“My father gave it to me!”
Edward shook the dirt off of his suit coat and adjusted his Stetson over his brow, as if Ben’s anger was no more than a nuisance from an irritating fly. “You’ve threatened me, assaulted me, and touched what isn’t yours. If I have to, I’ll take measures into my own hands.” He paused, letting the silence complete his thoughts. “I’ve got the law to back me up.”
“Do what you want,” Ben said, “but I won’t rest till I get what’s mine.”
The two men faced each other, toe to toe, neither saying a word—Ben with his raw, Cherokee strength, and Edward with his money and power. “All right,” Edward said. “You want the land, name your price.”
“Thieves don’t make demands,” Ben hissed.
Edward smiled and smacked his lips, looking more sinister as the shadows cast a demonic appearance across his face. “I know you can’t pay for it, so I tell you what—how about a wager, huh? The Carolina Challenge—three mile steeplechase on that fine stallion of yours. You win and the land is yours, fair and square. You lose and you walk away—from the land, Fairington, everything.” His eyes cut over to Angelina. “Including her.”
“Don’t,” Angelina begged.
Edward stepped closer to Ben and said in a low, hushed tone, “An
d none of us see your Cherokee face ever again.”
“Ben,” she said, shaking her head. He wavered a moment and looked her way, apologizing with those haunting eyes that swirled with rage, bitterness, and resentment—a lethal combination. She wished he would stop a minute and think about things. Edward had every intention of winning that race again.
For a second, the look on Ben’s face changed, as though he had read her thoughts. But then he turned back to Edward and gave a slight nod. Edward extended his hand, and Ben paused before grabbing it and clamping down hard. The deal was set and there was no going back.
A cry rose up from deep inside Angelina’s chest, sending her bolting toward the safety of the stables where Eagle’s Wing was waiting for her. She buried her face in the gelding’s mane and wept, allowing the tears to flow. What was wrong with her? Why hadn’t she gone away with him? It was what she wanted, wasn’t it?
Eagle’s Wing grumbled as she slammed her fist against her thigh, hating herself for being so weak. She loved Ben, but she loved Fairington too. Somehow she had to find a way to keep both of them, to bring them together—somehow. Lord, I need your help.
She waited for a reply, but the only answer given was another loud rumble of thunder and the splatter of a heavy, torrential rain.
CHAPTER 11
Ben awoke to a bright ray of sunshine streaming through the bunkhouse window. Billy and Mitchell were already up and busy with the early morning routine, shaving, dressing and tidying up before heading to the house for breakfast. Stevie and Ward took the early shift and would join them later.
A rush of anger hit Ben in the gut as he replayed the previous night’s events, especially Edward’s taunts and Angelina’s denial in front of the other men. He flexed his right hand a few times, remembering Edward’s smug look, but the soreness was worth the pleasure of seeing him flat on the ground, wallowing in the dirt. Remorse filled Ben’s heart, but it was instantly replaced with a sense of peace in realizing God had given him the opportunity to get his land back—and without a fight or a passel of money he didn’t have. It was going to be him, Mighty Wind, and the Lord setting things right again.
Where Love Runs Free (Tales from the Upcountry) Page 7