Where Love Runs Free (Tales from the Upcountry)

by Caroline Friday

  Footsteps moved across the floor above her and then stopped, followed by a loud scraping of furniture being moved. Angelina made her way up the steps and followed the noise to Ben’s old bedroom. The iron bed was haphazardly slid against the wall, and Ben was on his knees, prying a floorboard loose with his fingers.

  “What on earth are you doing?”

  “Gotta get this up,” he replied, straining against the pressure of the wood.

  “Being on the floor like that isn’t going to do that leg any good. And besides, Edward’s gonna have a fit when he sees you’ve been in here. Why don’t we get on out and get home? Ella’s cooked up a good supper, and I know she’ll be expecting us.”

  He yanked the board with a heave, and it popped loose. Then reaching his hand inside the floor, he pulled out a leather drawstring bag. “Fairington isn’t my home.” He opened the bag and dumped the contents on the floor. There were a few crude rocks, an eagle’s feather, several arrowheads, and a folded-up piece of paper that was yellow with age.

  “Ben,” she said, cringing at the panic rising in her voice, “this place isn’t what it used to be. It’s filthy and about to fall down, and I’m sure there are rats or something else living in the kitchen.”

  He sat on the bed and a puff of dust filled the air from the white bedcover that was now tinged in black. Ignoring her, he unfolded the paper and read something that looked like a letter. “Ben? Are you listening to me?” She stared at him, hoping to get some response, but he was in his own world, oblivious to her words. Grimacing at the filthy bed covering, Angelina hesitated and sat down next to him, waiting for him to speak.

  “It’s from my father,” he said, his voice cracking with emotion. “He wrote it the week before he died. “‘Son,’” he read, “‘Take care of your mother and honor the Lord in everything you do. This land is yours and don’t let anyone tell you otherwise. I give it to you and no other. Use it to glorify God.’” The paper crumpled in Ben’s hand, but he continued to read. “‘Don’t let anyone judge you by the outer man. Always look to the inside and see as the Lord Jesus does. Let others see that you are a man after His own heart, like David.’” Then taking a deep breath, he spoke the final words, “‘May the Lord bless you in all that you do.’” He refolded the paper and looked at Angelina through a glaze of tears. “My mother never sold that property. Edward forced her—” He turned away, unable to say any more.

  “I’m sorry, Ben,” Angelina whispered, feeling the shame of ever considering marriage to such a man. “He had no right.”

  “My father owed him money,” he said, the strength and conviction in his voice returning. “He and his men came one night and took the horses, and that should’ve settled things, but he wanted it all. He never had a right to the land, ’cause I know my father would’ve never used the farm as collateral. He never would’ve done that. He was so proud of this place and what we had built together.” Tears fell on the crumpled letter as Ben fought to get the words out. “I wish he had never indebted us to a man like Edward Millhouse.”

  Angelina caressed his arm, tracing the muscles down to his thumb and index finger. “I can go to Sam Turner and see if we can talk to Judge Thompson. We’ll get it back.”

  “No,” he said, pulling away. “I’m gonna need more than this letter. I’m gonna have to run the Challenge on Midnight Storm like we agreed.”

  “But that’s in a month, and your leg—”

  “I made an agreement and I’m gonna stick to it. With the Lord’s help, we can outrun him.”

  “Ben—”

  “Angelina, I’m never gonna be free from Edward Millhouse unless I fulfill my end of the wager. I’m never gonna be able to hold my head up high around him if I don’t run that race.”

  “And what if you lose?” she asked, feeling her eyes widen with horror at the thought of him riding away into the horizon—and then the satisfaction in Edward’s face at seeing him go. “You’ve promised to leave here, to never return! And I know Edward—he’ll hold you to it.”

  “That’s not going to happen. I’m gonna win. I can feel it down inside,” he said, covering his heart with his fist.

  “How can you win when you’re hardly able to walk? And you haven’t trained Midnight Storm. He’s barely been ridden, much less trained for a major steeplechase. Edward’ll win, hands down, and then where will we be?”

  “You don’t believe in me?”

  “I do—”

  “No, you don’t,” he said sadly. He stared at her again, the pain in his face unbearable. “Nothing’s really changed since the first day I came back, has it?”

  She grabbed his hands and knelt before him, not caring about the dirty floor soiling her riding skirt. Then pressing her lips against his smooth knuckles, she waited for courage to rise up within her. “Ben—what about Fairington? I’d give you my half, I would—if you’d forget about all of this.”

  “No.” He tried to pull away, but she held firm.

  “But why?”

  “Because this place is the only thing that’s mine. Fairington belongs to you and Jessie, but this is my inheritance. It’s what my father left me.” His eyes flashed for a moment, and the look was cold and determined. “I’m gonna run that race, Angelina.”

  “Ben!” she wailed. “Please—” She threw her arms around his waist and buried her cheek into his belly. “If you lose, I’ll die, I know it.” She felt the taut stomach muscles contract as she cried. “I can’t bear losing you again. I’d rather see you in the arms of Isabella Richardson than have you go away from here!”

  “Hush, now, I’m not going anywhere. And I’ve told you before. I don’t love her.” Gathering her into his arms, he brushed his lips against her forehead. “She could never make me happy.” He smoothed a lock of hair from her face and kissed her on the cheek and then gently on the mouth. “There’s only one thing that’ll make me happy. And that’s living here—with you by my side.”

  “But you don’t understand,” Angelina pleaded. “I can never leave Fairington. Fairington is to me what this place is to you. It’s my home.” She searched the depths of him, looking for some glimmer of hope. “How will we ever be together?”

  He pulled her close so that she felt the beating of his heart, like the echo of a drum being played in the distance. “Your home is with me, you hear?” His look grew dark and fierce, stirring a fire deep inside of her. She erupted into sobs, but his lips met hers, turning the cries into soft pleas.

  “Ben—”

  He kissed her again, and she grew quiet, feeling a paralyzing sensation explode out of her heart and engulf her from head to toe, even all the way to her very thoughts. Her mind roamed up to the clouds and back down to the oak tree on Palmetto Ridge, and then back up to the heavens where nothing on this earth really mattered. His mouth hovered near hers as he spoke, but she barely heard what he said.

  “For ten years there’s been an ache inside of me, a longing that I couldn’t explain. I asked the Lord—I thought it was this place, but now I know. It’s more than that. It’s you.” His dark eyes bored holes into hers, and there was no getting away from the power that flowed from deep inside of him. “From the very beginning, from the first day I saw you riding that Shetland pony, and you were wearing that yellow dress with blue flowers—right here,” he said, caressing the place below her collar bone. “You were the most beautiful thing I had ever seen. I knew I had to have you. You had to be mine.” His gaze swept over her hair and face and rested on her eyes once more. “The first time we touched was right by that window, remember?”

  She nodded, recalling the first time their hands made contact and then their lips. It was after she had slipped on a rock and scratched her knee, years ago. “You and I are one, Angel. You’re a part of me. You’re a part of this place.” He drew her even closer so that he was practically breathing into her. “Our souls have been knitted together, don’t you see?”

  Angelina closed her eyes and allowed herself to sink into the swirl o
f emotions spilling from his words, not caring if she drowned in them. “Yes.” She ran her fingers through his thick hair and pulled herself toward him. His hand smoothed across her waist and slipped around her back, bringing her even closer, tighter, so that his body pressed against hers, until she could barely breathe.

  A sharp pinch dug into the top of her leg, and she remembered—it was Edward’s ring. Instinctively, she pulled away, and a strange look came over him. “What is it?”

  “Nothing,” she replied, avoiding his gaze. She put her hands around his neck, hoping for another kiss, but he grabbed her wrists, and the dark look in his eyes returned. “Ben—” Reaching into her pocket, he grabbed the ring and sat up on the bed, examining like it was a rare species of insect. “I can explain.”

  “You carry it with you?”

  “I was going to give it back, I promise.”

  “I thought you did—that night.” The look on his face was haunting, deathlike, as though the blood had drained from his body. “You mean to marry him?”

  “No.” She tried to look into his eyes, but she was afraid of what he might see. He hesitated a moment and then pushed her away, standing to his feet. The ring dropped beside her on the bed. “Ben, I don’t want to marry him!”

  “But you plan on marrying him all the same.”

  “No! But if you insist on racing him in the Challenge, he’ll make you go away like you promised!” she sobbed. She stared at him, silently begging him to read her thoughts so she wouldn’t have to speak the words. “But there’s another way you can get your land,” she whispered. “And you won’t have to race at all.”

  The look on his face softened as confusion set in and then slowly, understanding. “No,” he said, his voice breaking.

  “But he’ll give me the farm, outright, and it won’t cost a thing—and then it’ll be yours,” Angelina said, hating the desperation in her voice. “And you’d never have to go away. Then, one day, we’ll find some way to be together.”

  Ben’s fists clenched at his sides and his jaw worked back and forth, bridling the anger that clouded his expression. “I’m running that race against Edward Millhouse, and I’m gonna win—me and Midnight Storm—whether you believe it or not. And I’m gonna get my land back, on my own. Without your help.”

  “Ben, listen to me!”

  “No, Angelina. You wanna use me as an excuse to marry him and his money, go right ahead. But I’m running that race, you hear? And you and Isaac Richardson—none of you are gonna get my land—you won’t! Never!” He grabbed her by the shoulders and shook her hard until she cried out. “God help me—” Then pulling her into his arms, he held her tightly as she wept. “You can’t marry him, I won’t let you,” he said, kissing her again and again. “Promise me you won’t.” His eyes were as dark as the depths of a raging, swirling river. “Promise me.”

  She tried to answer him, but the words wouldn’t come. Instead, she stared into his eyes for what seemed like an eternity. Then something changed in his expression, and immediately, she knew he was about to say something terrible. “I won’t stand by and watch you do this, Angelina. I won’t.” His eyes flooded with tears, and it was like a dagger to her heart. “I won’t be coming back to Fairington. I’m gonna take that foreman position at Middleton Farm and train Midnight Storm there, even if it is for a short while. I’m asking you to release me from my duties.”

  “Ben, please don’t do that,” she blubbered, not caring that she was making an utter fool of herself. “And please don’t run that race.”

  “I’ll get my things in the morning,” he said coolly, releasing his hold. “And you don’t have to pay me my wages. Consider it an installment on the horse. I plan on paying for him, fair and square.”

  “I don’t want your money.”

  “Nevertheless, I’m gonna pay you.”

  She choked back the sobs while her eyes flooded with tears. But there was no reaction from him, no sign of the passion and emotion she had witnessed just moments before. He had exposed her heart, and now he was walking away, as if none of it mattered. “All those things you said to me just now, they’re all lies, aren’t they? About us being one soul. All you care about is the past, seeking revenge, settling a score, and all for what? Land that Edward says isn’t good for anything but seed and raising pigs!” His eyes flashed fire and his jaw throbbed, as if she had struck him, but he said nothing. She stepped forward and hissed in his face, “You love this ole rundown place better than you’ve ever loved me!” Again, his eyes flashed. She raised her hand to strike, but he stopped her, his fingers intertwining hers.

  “Like I said, I’ll be getting my things tomorrow morning. I’m much obliged to you, Miss Raeford, for taking me on at Fairington and tending to my injuries.”

  “Don’t go.”

  A lone tear rolled down his cheek as he stepped away, turned, and was gone.

  Angelina stared at the bedroom door for the longest time before sinking down onto the bed, her whole body tingling with numbness. What had happened? she wondered. What have I done? Tears streamed down her face as she tried to stop the hurt from roaring up from the pit of her belly—but she couldn’t contain it. Without warning, a bitter sob filled the empty house. “Lord!” she begged. “Change him! Make him see!”

  She fell on the dirty bed, thinking about the beautiful, dark-haired boy who had slept there all those years ago. She reached out to touch the pillow and a sparkle from something shiny caught her eye. It was the diamond ring. She covered it with her palm, feeling its sharp prongs digging into her flesh, and yet it beckoned her all the same. Her eyes dried for a moment, enabling her to blink the tears away so she could see more clearly. The stone was bright and beautiful, yet hard and inflexible—like Edward. She wondered what he would think if he could see her here on Ben’s bed, turning his ring one way and then the other, allowing the light to reflect off the setting. Unconsciously, she slipped it onto her finger—a perfect fit.

  Eagle’s Wing softly neighed in the distance, reminding her it was time to be getting home. She slipped the ring off her finger and shoved it back in her skirt pocket, wiping her face and eyes and brushing the dust off her clothes. The space where the floorboard had been removed intrigued her. She peered carefully inside, wondering if there was something more hidden away, but it was empty and cold, like the remainder of the house. Then gathering Ben’s things into the leather bag, she pulled the string tight and dropped it into the hole.

  CHAPTER 23

  Isaac leaned against the fence railing and watched Ben work Midnight Storm. “I thank you for taking the job, son.” He pushed his sweat-stained Stetson back on his head and shifted a stem of hay to the other side of his mouth, chewing like a cow. “You’re doin’ real good with the horses. And the men’ve taken a likin’ to you, too. You know I’ve been lookin’ for a good foreman for some time now. The position’s still open if you want it.”

  Ben pulled the stallion to a halt and walked closer to where Isaac stood. “I’m obliged to you, sir, for giving me the chance to work at Middleton and for letting me train Midnight Storm,” he said, wiping the sweat off his brow with a bandana, “but I haven’t changed my mind. I’ve got my own plans.”

  “I see your leg’s ’bout healed.” Isaac eyed Ben’s leg, which now bore a nasty scar underneath his trousers. “Folks’re sayin’ it’s a miracle.”

  “God does work in wondrous ways,” Ben said, stroking the stallion’s sleek coat. There was an unusual connection, a peace, with this new horse. Midnight Storm was a real gift from the Lord—and Angelina, of course.

  “That He does.”

  “I’ll never know why I lost Mighty Wind,” Ben said, fighting a wave of sadness, “but I am thankful I’ve recovered enough to ride like I need to.”

  Isaac paused a moment and stared into the distant fields of Middleton Farm. Ben followed his gaze, enjoying the cool breeze that dried the perspiration on his skin. There was a kindred spirit with this man, even though they hadn’t known ea
ch other long. Perhaps it was the native ancestry that connected them, or Isabella—he couldn’t be sure. “So you’re still plan on runnin’ the Challenge, I reckon?”

  “Yes, sir. Mr. Millhouse knows I’m holding him to his word.”

  “Yep, I heard. You’ve got the whole town talkin’ ’bout it. Probably shouldn’t be tellin’ you this, but despite your win at the Promenade, ain’t too many folks think you can beat him.”

  “Well, I guess they’re gonna be in for a big surprise.”

  “Maybe so.” Isaac chuckled at Ben’s confidence, revealing his tobacco-stained teeth. “I don’t mind tellin’ you, but I wouldn’t lose a wink of sleep over seein’ somebody beat Edward Millhouse, especially somebody with native blood runnin’ through his veins. I know I don’t acknowledge my ancestors like I should, probably ’cause of the pain of being looked down upon. I don’t talk ’bout it much, but my great grandma was part Cherokee, and I didn’t like the way men like Edward Millhouse treated her. I remember as a boy gettin’ as mad as all get out ’bout that. Your win at the Promenade whet my appetite to see a little justice come Edward’s way. Sure would be nice to see the look on his face if you cross the finish line first.”

  “I plan on doing so, sir.”

  “I admire your spunk. People may not say it, but they’ve come to respect you—and that’s important to a man.”

  “I don’t care what other people think. I just wanna get back what’s mine.”

  “Well, if you do change your mind, my offer still stands. Edward still says he’ll sell me your pa’s farm for a fair price.”

  “No,” Ben said, shaking his head, “he won’t be able to sell it, ’cause I’m not gonna lose.”

  Isaac shifted his weight to the other boot and propped his foot on the fence railing, chewing on the stem of hay. Breathing deeply, he let out a long, jagged exhale as though he was gathering the courage to discuss a sensitive issue. Ben felt the tension in the air, like needles jabbing into his skin. “I’ve gotta be honest with you, son—but I do believe you will. Which means I’m gonna buy your pa’s farm.” Anger surged through Ben, but the sadness in Isaac’s eyes quenched it like water on a flame. “I know you agreed to go away from here, but one day Edward’ll relent—eventually,” he continued. “And I want you to know, it’ll be here waitin’ on you when you’re ready to come back. I’m not gonna sell it to anybody else, even to Miss Raeford, who wants it somethin’ awful.”