Where Love Runs Free (Tales from the Upcountry)

by Caroline Friday

  “That’s a good decision. Your daddy’s a wise man. There’s nothing like feeling the strength and power of a horse underneath you. About like flying up in the air.” Ben thought of Mighty Wind and the love they shared. He was the only one who could ride the stallion, with or without a saddle, and was the only one who could brush it down without risking a swift kick in the process. “Horses are dependable, predictable. No surprises,” he mused. “They don’t say one thing and do another, like a lot of people I know. Sometimes they may have a mean streak in them, but usually you can work that out through tender words and plenty of sugar cubes.” He laughed, and she giggled along with him.

  “You sound like Daddy. I can see why he likes you. Even if he thinks you oughta cut your hair. Of course all the other men do too, but they’re just jealous. I told him it would be a sin.” Her fingers lightly touched the end of his ponytail. “It is lovely.”

  “I don’t know about that,” he said, feeling the heat in his cheeks. “But you’re right. It would be a sin. For me at least.”

  “Miss Isabella! Miss Isabella!” a voice called to them as they approached the house. The kitchen door stood open and a round-shaped Negro woman came running outside, waving a white handkerchief. “Child, where you been?” The buttons on her brown calico dress pulled across her bosom as she ran alongside the buggy, shielding her face from the swirling dust. “I been worried sick, and your daddy, he be out all mornin’ lookin’ for you and that ole horse.”

  “Clara, this is Mr. Ben Eagle-Smith from Fairington,” Isabella said, ignoring her theatrics. “He rescued me from a horrible brush with death.”

  “A what?”

  “And so he’s gonna stay for supper. I know Daddy’ll want to hear all about it.”

  “Brush with death? Oh, mercy!” Clara waved her handkerchief in the air and dabbed her forehead a moment. “I told you not to be ridin’, you bein’ a nice Charleston girl, gone to school and all that. You not like those other heathen girls, ridin’ ’round like savages.” She gazed at Ben, but didn’t offer an apology for the offense.

  “Miss Clara.” Ben helped Isabella down from the buggy and lifted her into his arms, smiling at the woman’s shocked expression. He decided he would be nice to her, despite her view on “savages”. “Miss Isabella has a sprained ankle and needs to have it seen to.”

  “Oh, Lord’ve mercy! Come on in the house and let me get my fixin’s for that. Oh, Mr. Isaac’s gonna have a fit, just a fit!”

  Isabella giggled and nuzzled her nose into Ben’s neck as he followed Clara up the grand steps and into the elegance of Middleton. For a moment, a flash of hope zipped through him—someday, he would have a place like this on his own land—a big house like his daddy always dreamed of, with servants, and a passel of horses roaming green pastures. He caught Isabella’s stare, noticing how she batted her eyelashes at him with a delicate blink. And a beautiful woman in my arms, he thought to himself. One who will share it with me.

  Angelina couldn’t sleep, no matter how hard she tried. It seemed like every time she closed her eyes, Edward was there, looming over her like a wild animal ready to devour her in one bite. She tossed from one side of the bed to another while Ella’s pork chops and mashed potatoes sloshed around in her tummy, along with a greasy swirl of biscuits, butter, brussel sprouts, and a dash of apple cobbler mixed in. She tried counting sheep, reading Bible passages, such as Proverbs 3:24. When thou liest down, thou shalt not be afraid: yea, thou shalt lie down, and thy sleep shall be sweet. But sleep wouldn’t come, and Angelina was convinced that if it did, it certainly wouldn’t be sweet.

  She wondered if Isabella Richardson was able to rest her silly head. Angelina always disliked that girl, and now she knew why. Mountain lion, my foot! she thought. Ben was indulging that little weakling. There was no mountain lion, and he knew it. He was just trying to force Angelina’s hand before she was ready. He had said he would wait, that he would let her handle things on her own, and she had done that—she had broken things off with Edward. Now she just needed to figure out how to help Ben get his land back, and then maybe, one day, they could be together.

  Angelina closed her eyes, imagining all of Laurel Grove surrounding Ben, congratulating him as she appeared before him, wearing her mama’s wedding dress with the blue ribbons. Suddenly, her daddy’s face flashed before her eyes and then her mama, riding in the distant field with Tom.

  Shaking the bedcovers off of her legs, Angelina heaved a sigh of exasperation and got up. Maybe Jessie’s awake. She tiptoed down the dark hallway to her sister’s room, tapped on the door softly, and entered. The room was dark like the hallway, except for the light of the moon peeking through a break in the heavy, velvet drapes. Angelina loved the Queen Anne mahogany furniture, including a four-poster bed with a white crocheted canopy made by her mother years ago. Sunny, yellow paint covered the walls and the entire room was decorated with nothing but horse ribbons and framed paintings and prints of thoroughbred horses. On the wall surrounding the bed was a collection of Stetson hats that hung on pegs, and the bedcovers were made from a lovely red, yellow, and green floral print. A green striped easy chair was in the corner by the fireplace with a floral needlepoint pillow and a matching needlepoint footstool. There were no dolls or frills, but it was a delightful, feminine room that always made Angelina feel happy.

  She crept across the brightly colored rag rug, Jessie’s choice over a classic Oriental carpet that covered the remainder of the house. Sneaking under the covers, Angelina snuggled up to her sister and whispered, “Jessie, you awake?” Jessie shifted and let out a little snort. Angelina waited a minute before tapping her gently on the shoulder. “Jessie?”

  “Huh,” she murmured. “What is it?”

  “Nothing. I can’t sleep’s all,” Angelina whispered.

  “Why you gotta wake me?” She pulled the blankets over her head and groaned, “I’m tired, and mornin’ll be here before we know it.”

  Angelina hesitated a moment, gathering the courage to confess her thoughts. “You see how Ben carried Isabella and put her in the buggy?”

  “’Cause she sprained her ankle,” Jessie mumbled with her mouth to the pillow.

  “Jessie, you know I love him, don’t you?” Angelina whispered softly. “I always have.”

  There was a long hesitation before Jessie rolled over onto her back. “Whatch you gonna do about it?”

  “Well, I’ve been thinking—”

  “Think all you want, but if he loses the Challenge, he’s promised to go away from here. He’s a man of his word, you know that.”

  “That’s why we’ve gotta make sure he wins.” Angelina propped up on her elbow and spoke in a normal voice. “Which means I can’t have him spending time with that Isabella Richardson, teaching her how to ride. He needs to be here, training Mighty Wind every chance he’s got. Tom’s working with him, but we’ve gotta make sure his attentions are on the Challenge and nothing else.”

  “Like Isabella.”

  “You’ve gotta help me, Jessie.”

  “What am I supposed to do about it?” she asked, yawning.

  “I want you to go visit Rutherford Hall.”

  “What?”

  “Shh!” Angelina hissed, looking toward the door. “Just go visit over there and see what Edward’s up to,” she whispered again, “how he’s training and which horse he’s gonna ride and all that.”

  “Me?” Jessie asked, shoving her index finger in her chest.

  “Plus, we need to stay on his good side, in case things don’t go well with Ben. Edward’s as mad as fire at me, but he likes you, I know he does. You could fix yourself up, wear that lavender dress.”

  “Angelina, have you lost your mind? I’m not gonna go throwing myself at your betrothed so I can find out a little information about his thoroughbreds. And you’re still engaged to him legally, even if you did give the ring back. Far as I know, he hasn’t released you from your agreement.”

  “He will. I’ll make sure of it.�
� Angelina kicked at the covers, wishing it were Edward’s backside she was kicking. “He’s got his pride. Deep down, he doesn’t want to be married to me any more than I wanna be married to him.”

  “You sure? Think what we could do with his money.”

  “We don’t need his money.”

  “But it would be nice. The barn needs a new roof and I’ve got a long list of improvements that need doing.”

  “I’d be like selling our soul to the devil, Jessie. You don’t know him. I’ve got a real bad feeling about things.” The taste of tobacco and smoked beef coated her tongue, whisking her back to the night of the engagement party and Edward’s kiss. “You don’t know what he’s capable of—I don’t think any of us do.” She gazed at Jessie, who had closed her eyes again. “Please,” she whispered.

  “All right, I’ll sleep on it.”

  Angelina giggled and planted a kiss on Jessie’s cheek. “But no lavender dress,” she added, pulling away from Angelina’s embrace. “Its trousers and boots or nothing else.”

  Angelina smiled and kissed her again. “You are the sweetest sister in the world, you know that?”

  “Alright, alright—can I go to sleep now?”

  “Yes, sweet dreams.”

  Jessie rolled over and in a moment was breathing deeply. Angelina snuggled down into the covers, picturing Ben riding Mighty Wind across the finish line of the Carolina Challenge. All of Laurel Grove would be there cheering him on, accepting him as one of their own—and she’d be waiting for him. It would be she who fell into his arms and not that pompous Isabella Richardson. He’d get his land back, and she’d convince him to sell it for a good price and use the money to help grow Fairington. He’d listen to her then.

  Suddenly, sleep came, and Angelina drifted off into the land of dreams where she and Ben rode Eagle’s Wing together, up toward Palmetto Ridge.

  CHAPTER 15

  Ben was dog tired after a long day in the saddle. He had spent all morning and early afternoon with Mighty Wind before riding Midnight Storm over to Middleton and giving Isabella her first official riding lesson on her dappled mare. Ben told her it wasn’t right to sit astride a horse that didn’t have a proper name, so she came up with Meg, a character from one of her favorite books. Ben was surprised at how well she rode, despite her claims of ignorance. And apparently, she had no trouble securing a smart riding skirt, boots, and a regular saddle that fit her small frame. Suspicion told him she had more expertise than she let on.

  Shuffling into the bunkhouse, Ben plopped down on his bunk, wanting to catch a few minutes of sleep before Ella rang the dinner bell. He kicked his boots up on the end of the bed and covered his face with his hat, picturing Angelina and Jessie watching him as Tom worked Mighty Wind in the field. Ben could still hear Tom’s voice ringing in his ears, telling him to “approach the hedge a little closer before taking the jump,” or “pull back on the reins and force the horse to pace himself,” and “keep up the momentum when you see those trees.”

  Ben was grateful for all Tom was doing. Every day, he could sense the improvement in Mighty Wind’s speed, strength, and agility. The confidence in Ben soared sky-high, making him feel invincible when he was on the stallion. He lived for the moment when he crossed that finish line before Edward and all the other contenders, making a name for himself as the best horseman in Laurel Grove. Then it would be he and Mighty Wind back at his daddy’s farm, starting from scratch. He imagined fixing up the house and the stable, mending the fences and the rings, and replanting his mother’s garden. He’d need to come up with a name for the farm, something other than The Smith Farm. He liked Eagle’s Ridge, which reminded him of one of his favorite Bible verses in Isaiah, the one Angelina use to quote to him when they were kids. 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. It was the same scripture that inspired the name “Eagle’s Wing.”

  The scuffing of boots on the floor roused him from his thoughts, followed by the strange sense that someone was staring at him. Ben tipped the brim of his hat to find Billy with his hands in his pockets, memorizing the cracks in the floorboards. “Can’t you stare at the floor somewhere else?” Ben asked. “I’m trying to get a bit of shut-eye before supper.” Billy cleared his throat and shifted his weight on his boots, blushing a beet red. Ben peeked at him again and saw the sweat beading up on his brow, despite the fact that a fresh, cool breeze blew through the open window. “All right, I see you’ve got something on your mind. What is it?”

  “Well, I was wonderin’ if you could help me out with somethin’.”

  “What’s that?”

  “It’s kinda sensitive.”

  “Sensitive?”

  “It has to do with, you know, a girl. Miranda Sutherland,” Billy said, his face blushing again. “She’s one of Miss Richardson’s friends, the one I danced with at the party. I know you danced with her too. She’s ’bout the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen, and just as sweet. And did you see what she was wearin’ that night? Her eyes ’re just as green, like a spring leaf on a tree. And she’s just as light on her feet, she’s probably the best dancer ’round these parts, and probably can cook too. I told myself, a girl who looks that pretty and smiles so sweet and twirls about like an angel can surely make the best apple pie in the world—that’s my favorite—and cook up a tall, fluffy batch of biscuits. Don’t ya think?”

  Ben couldn’t decide whether to laugh or feel sorry for the boy. “Well, Billy,” he said, wanting to tread as gently as he could, “if you’re asking me if a woman’s cooking talents can be measured by how pretty her clothes are or how sweet her face looks, I’ll have to tell you, in my experience, that’s not a sure bet. You may find that she can’t cook a thing, ’cause she’s had all her cooking done for her by some Negro woman or her mama.”

  “Oh, yeah,” Billy said, his face looking downcast. “Hadn’t really thought about that.”

  “’Course none of that really matters unless she invites you to supper and offers to cook.”

  “How do I get her to do that?” Billy asked, an eagerness brightening his expression. “I guess that’s what I wanna know. You’re always spendin’ time with Miss Richardson, and she’s invited you to supper, and Miranda’s her friend and all. I thought, well—” His face colored again and he hung his head. “I thought maybe you could help me out, maybe put in a good word for me?”

  The look in Billy’s eye reminded Ben of himself years ago. “You really like her, huh?”

  “I do. Know right here in my heart she’s the one,” Billy said, tapping his chest with the palm of his hand. “You ever feel like that?”

  Ben knew it was no secret among the Fairington boys what happened between him and Angelina. He was sure plenty of tongues were wagging around the farm and in town to keep the champion gossipers satisfied. Mabel Andersen and all of her friends and acquaintances probably knew more about his relationship with Angelina than he did. “I think it best I not answer that,” he said curtly, changing the subject. “Has Miss Sutherland taken a liking to you?”

  Billy shrugged his shoulders and hung his head, contemplating. “She danced with me at the engagement party, at least three dances. And I mentioned the town fair next week, and she said it’d be no problem at all if I showed her ’round the prized steed, and then she could take me ’round to the women’s cook-off competitions where they have all those cakes and pies. She said “that’d be fine,” those were her exact words. Oh—,” he added, pointing his finger in his excitement, “and she said she’d come watch me ride the Promenade.”

  Ben had heard Mitchell talking with Stevie and Ward about the annual town fair, a two-day event followed by the Davis Supply & Co. Horse Show, known as The Promenade. Other than the Carolina Challenge, the Promenade was the biggest event of the year, where the whole town got the opportunity to observe all of the potential Challenge contenders. Edward would participate, as he did e
very year, and all of the Fairington trainers were scheduled to ride as well—Tom had already registered Ben and Mighty Wind. Ben couldn’t wait to give Laurel Grove a taste of what was to come in the Challenge steeplechase.

  Ben studied Billy again, picturing him riding Captain’s Galley with his Stetson sitting low on his brow and his back erect, wearing a white shirt and leather vest—looking more like a man than the little boy blushing before him. Surely, Miranda Sutherland would be impressed with what she saw. “Sounds to me like she’s taken a real liking to you,” he said. “And there’s no doubt she’ll like you even more if you make a good showing in the Promenade. But, I’ll tell you what, she’s not the one you’ve gotta woo.”

  “She’s not?” The surprise on Billy’s face brought a sense of pleasure to Ben. He realized he was teaching this boy some important life lessons, the same way he had been taught. Ben just wished he had learned them a whole lot sooner.

  “Nope,” Ben said, readjusting his hat and propping his hand under his head. “First of all, you need to pray to the Lord. You know how to do that?”

  “Yeah.” Billy shoved his hands down further into his pockets and shrugged his shoulders. “My mama taught me.”

  Ben pulled his Bible from his vest pocket and flipped it open, covering Angelina’s initials with his palm. Clearing his throat he read, “Trust in the LORD with all thine heart; and lean not unto thine own understanding. In all thy ways acknowledge him, and he shall direct thy paths.” He waited for a reaction from Billy, but there was more wonder and confusion than revelation. “That’s Proverbs 3:5 and 6,” Ben explained. “You ever read Proverbs?”