Where Love Runs Free (Tales from the Upcountry)

by Caroline Friday

  Despite Jessie’s excitement and the screams from the crowd, Angelina remained in total shock. With tears in her eyes, she threw her arms up to the heavens and smiled at the clouds. “Yee—hah!” she finally said, slapping her Stetson onto her knee, like she had seen her daddy do many times. Thank you, God! she whispered in her heart.

  Ben and Mighty Wind took the ring, making several victory laps while voicing his characteristic tribal cry. Angelina waved and called to him as he thundered past, but he didn’t look her way. Then ignoring the other contenders, he rode over to where Isabella waited, bent down, and hoisted her onto his back. Anger rose up in Angelina at seeing him make a public display of his relationship with this girl. How could he? Emotion clouded her vision as she noticed Isabella press her cheek against his bare skin.

  “Miss Raeford?”

  Edward stared at her from the other side of the ring, still astride Almighty. “Edward,” she replied coolly, tearing her thoughts away from Ben and Isabella. “Hello.” She wiped her eyes and squinted into the sun, wondering what sort of reaction she would see.

  He nodded, seemingly unfazed by his defeat, and then tipped his top hat to Jessie. “Miss Jessie.”

  “Edward—that’s a beauty of a horse you have there.” Angelina could tell her sister was forcing a smile.

  “Thank you. He is a fine specimen.” Almighty heaved and snorted as Edward tightened the reins and pulled on the bit.

  “Just not fine enough,” Angelina said, giving him one of her best smirks.

  “Angelina,” Jessie scolded. “You did very well, Edward,” she said a little too sweetly. “You should be proud.”

  He didn’t answer but surveyed Angelina with a pair of steely eyes and a pompous smile. “We’ll see.”

  Angelina felt her skin crawl as he stared at her a moment too long. Then tipping his hat, he trotted back toward the throng of admirers to receive a round of condolences. “Yes, we shall,” she said under her breath.

  “Come on,” Jessie said. “Let’s go find Ben.” They pushed through the crowd, bearing the stench of sweat from the men and perfume from the ladies, not to mention the bumps and swipes from strong, muscular shoulders and fancy hat brims.

  “Jessie!” Angelina called over the noise of music, talk, and chitchat. “You see him?”

  “No! And I don’t see Isabella either!”

  The leathery old man gave her an evil look, but Angelina ignored him before he could spit another wad of tobacco juice on her boot. She hopped onto one of the wooden high jumps and stood above the sea of spectators, looking for Ben’s long braids and bare back, but all she saw was a wave of Stetsons, cotton shirts, and cowboy boots. Then in the distance, something caught her eye. There he was, his dark hair trailing behind as he galloped away toward the direction of Middleton Farm. And Isabella Richardson sat behind him with her peacock feathers flapping in the wind and her arms wrapped tightly around his waist.

  CHAPTER 17

  Ben could still feel the softness of Isabella’s cheek on his back as he rode Mighty Wind toward Palmetto Ridge. It was nice to have the adoration of a beautiful woman before a whole town who considered him nothing but a heathen, but that didn’t take the sting out of being rejected by Angelina. Her reaction to Edward hadn’t escape Ben’s notice—he could see how she was taken in by the top hat, red riding jacket, and the magnificent, white stallion. Even though she wasn’t wearing his ring, it was clear she was reconsidering the marriage.

  Ben grabbed Mighty Wind’s mane and ran his fingers through the long strands. He remembered the power of the stallion’s long, even strides as they rode around the Promenade course together. It was a marvelous victory, even if it was by a one-second lead. And yet for some reason, he felt empty inside—the excitement at winning lasted only for a fleeting moment. If he wanted to win the Challenge, he was going to have to improve his time considerably.

  As he approached the top of the ridge, Ben pulled Mighty Wind to a stop and stared down at his father’s farm. He stroked the horse along its neck and said, “You did good, boy. The big day’s coming up, you hear? We’re gonna have our day.”

  A light shower brought a layer of cool air, along with the fresh scent of rain. As the sun began to set, a dark, hazy glow hovered close to the ground, giving the woods an ethereal feel. Ben loved this time in the afternoon when the world went from light to darkness, only to reappear in the morning. It reminded him of the story of the Gospel and how Jesus, the God-man who brought light into the world, suffered a time of darkness, only to be resurrected again. As Ben gazed at his boyhood home, he felt himself sinking down into the depths of the grave, like Jesus must’ve felt thousands of years ago. Swallowing hard, he fought back the emotions that rose in his throat. Lord, will it ever really be mine? Fear gripped him at the thought of losing the only thing he had left in life. He had lost Angelina—what if he lost his wager with Edward? What if on the day of the Challenge, he lost by one second instead of taking the lead? Would he forfeit the farm forever?

  Mighty Wind snorted and whinnied, as if answering his questions. “It’s all right, my friend,” he said softly to the stallion. “We won’t give up. We’ll train harder than ever. We’ll show him. We’ll show ’em all.”

  Nudging Mighty Wind with his heels, Ben made his way along the ridge toward Fairington. The trail led through a grove of large, live oak trees that provided a canopy of cool shade from the setting sun. A feeling of calm come over him at the monotonous melody of the crickets and wood toads, along with the accompaniment of the stallion’s hooves crunching along the path of leaves and dirt. From deep in the distance came the muffled cry of a wild animal that was strangely comforting, bringing back fond memories of Ben’s boyhood. He recalled hunting in these woods with his father, climbing the live oaks, swinging from rope swings, and sleeping in a secluded treehouse. And then there were the times with Angelina.

  Closing his eyes, Ben imagined the long limbs of the oak trees were the welcoming arms of spectators cheering him on as he neared the steeplechase finish line. A cluster of leaves brushed his cheek, and he imagined Isabella tossing another feather his way. The eerie silence echoed in his ears like the applause of an accepting crowd of onlookers. On instinct, Mighty Wind moved into a gentle canter and then accelerated to a gallop. Ben grabbed hold of the mane and kicked with his heels, letting out a yell as the stallion soared over a fallen log and slammed its hooves onto the dirt path at a thundering pace. As the pounding of horse hooves resonated in Ben’s ears, he could almost feel Edward and his black top hat coming close behind, breathing on his neck with a hot, putrid stench. But then there at the finish line was Angelina, waiting for him with her soft smile and long, blonde hair blowing in the wind.

  Mighty Wind erupted from the thickness of the trees and galloped along the ridge toward the open field. Ben wanted to laugh at having entertained such negative thoughts about the Challenge. Nothing’s gonna stop us from winning that race, he thought as the stallion ran at a speed defying anything Ben had ever known. Nothing!

  He let out another loud Cherokee call, when suddenly, his heart stilled, as though time was suspended. From the corner of his eye he saw a flash of white and heard a wild scream that sliced through his moccasin and traveled down to the sole of his foot. Mighty Wind reared up on its hind legs and pawed the air as something black fell to the ground and then bounced up against Ben’s side. The pain hit him again, sending a wave of nausea through his chest and down into his stomach.

  He pulled on the reins, trying to speak to Mighty Wind with calming words, but no sound came. The stallion reared up once more and danced away from the black mountain lion until the ground slipped away from them. A deep, guttural neigh came from Mighty Wind this time, a sound Ben had never heard before. His back hit the hard earth with a thud, and it was as if his heart dislodged from his chest.

  The last thing he remembered was the sickening screams coming from his stallion that made every hair on the back of his neck rise up. A picture of Mig
hty Wind as a lanky colt romping through the fields flashed through Ben’s mind. It rambled up to him, tossing a lock of dark hair over its eye before lapping up a sugar cube. Ben’s lungs swelled with pride as he imagined himself kissing its velvety nose and stroking its soft face. “Mighty Wind,” he murmured as the sun dipped down over the horizon and a horse neighed in the distance. “Mighty Wind . . .”

  Angelina rode Eagle’s Wing as fast as she could to the top of the ridge. She had heard Mighty Wind’s screams echoing across the field, followed by the distinctive cry of a mountain lion. Ignoring Jessie’s frantic pleas, she reached into her saddlebag and pulled out her mama’s pearl-handled pistol and cocked the trigger. “Oh, God, please,” she prayed, feeling the words stick to her throat like a wad of glue.

  As she and Eagle’s Wing neared the top of the ridge, she pulled the gelding to a halt and leapt off the saddle with the pistol in hand. “Ben!”

  “Stay back!” he called.

  She peered over the ridge and saw Mighty Wind on the ground with its right front leg contorted in a strange manner. Ben crouched in front of the stallion with a knife in hand, staring down a black mountain lion. Blood dripped from its neck, but that didn’t stop it from snarling and swishing its dark tail back and forth. Angelina pointed the gun into the air and fired off a round, making the cat jump. Ben lunged at the animal, but it backed away, snarling even more. Then gritting her teeth, Angelina squinted and took aim, lining the sight of the pistol with the mountain lion’s head as best she could, given the distance. She pulled the trigger, and a loud blast filled the air, followed by the cat’s agonizing screams. It stumbled before scurrying away into the thickness of the trees, moving with a decided limp. Angelina figured she had gotten a clean shot to its shoulder.

  “Angelina, you all right?” Jessie said as she pulled the buggy to a halt.

  Eagle’s Wing nuzzled the back of Angelina’s arm with its wet nose, prompting her to answer. “No,” she said quietly, seeing Ben kneel beside Mighty Wind’s crumpled form.

  “Dear Lord!” Jessie exclaimed, taking in the grisly sight. “I better fetch Dr. Parker.”

  “I think it’s too late, Jessie.” Angelina shoved the pistol into her leather belt and hurried down the ridge toward Ben. The sight of Mighty Wind, broken and motionless, brought back a grief she hadn’t experienced since her daddy died a few years ago. The silky, sleek coat was covered in blood, and the powerful front legs were like two sticks haphazardly tossed on a pile of wood. “Ben,” she sobbed, falling to her knees next to him. “I’m so sorry!”

  His face contorted as he bowed his head low to the ground. She grabbed his hand and buried her face in his chest, convulsing with sobs. His hot breath seared her neck, and his fingers gripped her back, enveloping her in a tight embrace. Suddenly, his body trembled violently as the sorrow welled up from deep inside, finally releasing like the howl of a wolf.

  Eagle’s Wing whinnied in response, which broke Angelina’s heart. It could have very easily been her horse lying here in this horrible state. “It’s gonna be all right,” she whispered again and again, trying to assure herself as much as Ben. He grimaced in pain, and then she noticed a stain of wet, sticky dirt on the front of her riding skirt and the top of one of her boots. A deep gash on the side of his leg oozed red and trickled down the length of his moccasin, dripping onto the ground like thick paint. “Ben, you’re hurt!”

  “It’s just a cut,” he said. His voice sounded remote, like he was caught in a whirlwind of dark memories.

  “It’s not.” Jumping to her feet, she called to her sister, waving her hand back and forth. “Jessie! Get the buggy down here, quick!” She ripped a swatch of petticoat from underneath her riding skirt and quickly bound the wound on Ben’s leg. “We’ve gotta get you home, you hear? This leg needs seeing to.” Grabbing him underneath the shoulders, she tried to lift him to his feet. “Can you walk?”

  “I’m not leaving him,” Ben said, staring at Mighty Wind. “We’re gonna ride the Challenge—”

  “You can’t stay here. You need a doctor.”

  He hesitated a moment, as if considering her words, and then slowly lowered his head and slumped to the ground.

  “Ben!” Angelina grabbed him by the arms and tried to pull him up again, but he wouldn’t budge. “Jessie!”

  “I’m here,” she said, pulling up in the buggy.

  “Come on,” Angelina barked. “Grab an arm and leg.”

  Jessie followed Angelina’s lead, and somehow they managed to drag Ben to the buggy and heave him into the back. Angelina threw an old horse blanket over him and shoved her Stetson under his head. Despite the pallor of his skin, he was beautiful, with his dark, raven hair, chiseled features, and muscular chest that looked sculpted from brown marble. “I love you, Ben,” she whispered. “I always will.” She wiped a few stray hairs from his forehead and kissed him on the brow. “I’m gonna go fetch Doc Parker, then I’ll be back to Fairington as soon as I can.”

  Eagle’s Wing snorted wildly and tossed its head as Angelina leapt into the saddle. “Don’t you let anything happen to him, you hear, Jessie Raeford?” she commanded, thrusting a finger at her sister.

  “Just go get the doctor!” Jessie answered, moving the buggy forward with a lurch. “We don’t have time to waste!”

  Angelina kicked Eagle’s Wing with the heel of her boot and away they galloped. Please, God. Please, keep him safe. She tried to still her thoughts from all the horrible possibilities of what could happen, but no matter how fast she rode, they were there, waging war in her mind. I’ll do whatever you want. The words choked in her throat as she said them out loud. “Whatever it takes, Lord!”

  As she made her way along Palmetto Ridge and galloped past the old oak tree, she glanced toward the Smith Farm where the For Sale sign was posted on the front door in large, black letters instead of the bloody red. A voice spoke to her heart, and instantly, she knew what she had to do.

  CHAPTER 18

  The wind howled around Ben’s ears as he lay on the wet grass, snuggled next to Mighty Wind’s warm body. He stroked the velvety fur, marveling at its sleek softness. The stallion neighed gently and twitched, as if shooing away an irritating fly. “Sleep, my friend,” Ben said, kissing the place he petted. “It’s time to sleep.” The long, bushy tail swung side to side, swiping Ben across the mouth, making him laugh. “Yes, I know. I’ll hush.”

  Ben had never known Mighty Wind to lie down and rest for this long, especially out in the open field. But for some reason it didn’t seem strange. What better place to sleep than on a carpet of dewy grass blanketed by a canopy of bright stars with the wind singing its eerie tune? The long limbs of the oak trees swayed and danced from one side to the other, rustling their leaves like soft, lilting tambourines. Closing his eyes, Ben draped his arm across the stallion’s belly and tried to sleep, but the singing of the wind kept him awake. It seemed to cry, “Angelina, Angelina, Angelina . . .”

  “I’m here,” a voice answered, over and over. It was soft and gentle at first and then evolved into a deep, evil growl. Ben looked behind him and saw something dark approaching in the distance. He strained his eyes to see, and after a few moments, made out the silhouette of Edward in his black top hat walking toward him with long, lanky strides and smacking a riding crop into his leather glove. The black mountain lion strode next to him like a domestic pet, purring in its mysterious way and occasionally pulling its lips back to reveal a set of white fangs.

  Ben tried to rise, but a sharp pain ripped through his right side, and his leg wouldn’t move. “Mighty Wind,” he whispered, nudging the horse with his knee, but it just neighed in response, having drifted into a long, deep slumber. “Mighty Wind!” Ben yelled. “Get up!”

  In a few moments, Edward would be upon them. Ben tried to rise again, holding his side, but the pain was too great. Suddenly, the sting of the riding crop lashed across the back of his leg and the heat of the klandagi’s fang sunk deep into his neck.

  “B
en—Ben, it’s all right.” Angelina laid a cool, wet cloth across Ben’s forehead and gently guided his head to the pillow. “It’s a dream. Just a dream.”

  He sunk back down into the bed covers and muttered, “Mighty Wind, Mighty Wind—”

  “Yes,” Angelina said, “I know.”

  Jessie slipped into the room, carrying a silver tray of hot tea and dry toast with butter. “He awake?”

  “Barely,” Angelina replied. “Doc says he’ll probably be like this for a couple of days. Says he’s got two broken ribs, and that nasty cut on his leg isn’t helping.”

  Jessie sat the tray on the bureau and squeezed a wedge of lemon into the pink flowered tea cup. “Here,” she said, stirring a sugar cube into the hot liquid and offering it to Angelina. “Drink this.”

  Angelina turned away as a wave of nausea swept over her. “I can’t drink anything, Jessie.”

  “You need something on your stomach. You’re gonna make yourself sick over this.”

  “I don’t care about me,” Angelina said as she reached for Ben’s fingers, caressing them one by one. They were long and muscular and calloused in just the right places.

  “Guess there’s no way he’s gonna be able to run the Challenge now.” Jessie slumped into a chair next to Angelina. “Even if we were to find him another horse, there isn’t time. And that wound is terrible.”

  Angelina stared at his bandaged side, her heart breaking for him. “I never wanted him to run the Challenge—I couldn’t bear the thought of him losing and having to go away from here,” she said, her voice shaking. “But I never wanted anything like this to happen.”

  “None of us did.”

  “All I wanted was for him to stay here, at Fairington.”

  “Sometimes what we want isn’t what’s best. Keeping a man like Ben at Fairington would be like caging up a wild animal, like that mountain lion, expecting him to be content.” Jessie sighed as she squeezed Angelina’s hand. “You and I both know, it’ll crush him something awful if he doesn’t get that land back.”