Where Love Runs Free (Tales from the Upcountry)

by Caroline Friday

  “Isabella, I wish you wouldn’t do that.”

  “I’m sorry.” She smiled again and waved as she scurried off toward the direction of the millinery.

  Ben shook his head and tucked the packages into his saddlebag. “Come on boy,” he said to Midnight Storm. “Let’s take a little promenade around town.” He led the horse down Main Street toward the Blue Ridge Hotel, still thinking about Angelina. She was wearing her hair differently now. Instead of the half-up, half-down style, she swept all of it back with a few curls falling around her ears and at the nape of her neck. Elegant and lovely, were words that came to his mind—words he had heard Mabel and some of the other ladies in town use.

  Ben hung his head, thinking about Edward and his dirty hands touching Angelina—like a filthy pig wallowing on a piece of pure, white silk. Midnight Storm’s hooves clopped against the cobblestones, keeping time with the beating of Ben’s heart. She can’t marry him, she just can’t! he said to himself as they rounded the corner and headed up Oak Street. He had looked into her eyes and seen down into her heart. She couldn’t hide what he had witnessed. She was the same Angel from his youth, the same girl who had professed her love for him time and again. Somehow he had to stop her.

  The oak-lined street provided a canopy of shade from the heat of the afternoon sun. Ben walked aimlessly, allowing Midnight Storm to stop every now and then and snatch a mouthful of grass from a lawn that hadn’t been groomed. Most of the yards on this street were meticulously kept, including trimmed boxwood hedges, azaleas, and ornamental flowerbeds, but there were a few that were neglected and unkempt.

  As they continued to walk, they came upon one of Ben’s favorite houses in Laurel Grove. It belonged to Sam Turner, a local attorney and solicitor, who often did work for Fairington. It was a large white plank and stone Greek revival home with Corinthian columns and two covered porches, one on either end of the house. It wasn’t as large as the Middleton mansion but was more opulent in design and detail. Ben remembered his mother often gazing at it on trips to town, admiring its beauty. Perhaps I’ll remodel the farmhouse to look like this, he thought, studying the decorative trim around the entranceway and the front door. Wonder what Angelina would think?

  A distinctive, bellowing laugh made Ben pause. He waited a moment, and then heard two men’s voices. One was Sam Turner, and the other was unmistakable—Ben knew that sound anywhere. It was Edward Millhouse. Suddenly, the hair stood up on the back of his neck as the laugh resonated through the air and zipped into Ben’s ear like an angry hornet.

  “No more of that,” he scolded, as Midnight Storm yanked a mouthful of grass from the Turner’s pristine lawn. He tied the stallion to a lamppost and listened for more. “I’ll be just a minute,” he said in a hushed tone. “You stay here and behave.” The stallion snorted and chewed without making another sound. Ben patted its neck and then clenched his fists as he walked toward the house.

  The voices came from behind a row of tall boxwoods that bordered one of the covered porches. As Ben got close, he scurried near the azaleas, straining his ears. The two men were sitting under a large, white wooden gazebo in the side lawn that was nestled under a shady live oak. They rocked back and forth on white wooden rockers covered in blue and white pinstripe cushions. A cloud of cigar smoke billowed around them, filling the air with the scent of sweet-smelling tobacco—a smell that had never appealed to Ben. Two large Boston ferns and three trailing spider plants provided a curtain of privacy, giving them a false sense of protection from listening ears.

  “She says she’ll sign—tonight,” Edward said in an arrogant tone. “I told her she had to agree before the Challenge or I was gonna sell to Richardson.” He rocked extra hard as he puffed on his cigar, contemplating. “It’s a shame that land never amounted to a hill of beans, but I am glad I held onto it. It came in handy, huh?” He chuckled and wedged the cigar in the back of his teeth. “Turns out, it’s gonna make me a nice profit.”

  “Unless, if by some miracle, Ben wins that race,” Sam said. “Then you’re gonna have a lot of explaining to do to your Charleston creditors.”

  “He can’t win—”

  “People said the same thing about the Promenade. The man’s got a way with horses. Only trainer in the county who can tame a wild stallion,” Sam said, taking a long puff from his cigar. “The natural way, of course.”

  “He won’t win—I won’t let him,” Edward snapped, a little too loudly. “I’ve had my eye on Fairington for years now, and once I get Jessie to sign that power of attorney, it’s mine. I’ve got her eating out of the palm of my hand. Fairington’s gonna bring a nice price once it hits the market. And the horses, especially that gelding Angelina rides.”

  “Eagle’s Wing?” Sam stopped his rocking and stared at Edward. “Don’t tell me you plan on selling her horse?”

  “I’m gonna sell it all,” Edward said. He hesitated a moment and added, “I’ll give her one of my mares, or maybe let her ride White Cloud. That is, if she behaves.”

  There was a round of laughter, but Ben couldn’t hear any more—he was numb from his head all the way down to the soles of his feet. Forcing himself to move, he quickly slunk back toward Midnight Storm, imagining his Uncle Bear Claw instructing him on how to maneuver with stealth, like an animal in the wild that goes undetected. Then without further sound, Ben jumped on the stallion and headed out of town toward Fairington, forgetting all about Isabella and how she would be waiting for him at Davis Supply.

  CHAPTER 25

  Angelina kicked her bedroom door closed, fell onto her bed, and stared at the ceiling. Fire blazed from her eyes and ears at the memory of Edward’s hands and mouth. Shame quickly followed, sweeping over her as she thought of Ben. She knew he had seen, even though he acted like he hadn’t. Her mind wandered back to the night of the engagement party, when he had defended her from Edward’s evil advances. Angelina smiled for a moment, picturing Edward wallowing in the dust in his nice three-piece suit after Ben socked him good in the jaw. But why hadn’t Ben done that today? she wondered, feeling sadness engulf her. If he really loved her, shouldn’t he have protected her like he did before?

  The image of Isabella’s wide-eyed expression made Angelina toss the bed pillows to the floor. “Oh!” She flipped over to her stomach and immediately saw the powder blue silk dress with ivory lace trim that Ella had pressed and laid out so carefully. The fabric was creamy to the touch and the color brought out the deep blue of her eyes and the blonde in her hair. It was one of Angelina’s favorite dresses, but now it seemed hideous and old fashioned. How could she wear this for Edward tonight after the way he behaved? And how could she sign any sort of agreement with him?

  “Lord!” she cried, rolling onto her back and staring up at the ceiling once more. She imagined slipping into another world where she could walk along the white plaster upside down without any problem whatsoever. “Lord, there must be another way!” she wailed. “What am I gonna do?”

  “Miss Angelina?” Ella rapped on the door and stuck her head into the room. “You all right?”

  “Yes,” Angelina said, trying to sound convincing.

  “Well, okay, but Mr. Edward’ll be here soon. You want me to do your hair?”

  “No, I’ll fix it up myself.”

  The door opened wide, and Ella stepped inside, examining the bed pillows on the floor. “Child! I don’t know why you have to live in such a mess, ’specially when I’ve spent all day cleanin’.”

  “Ella,” Angelina said, still lost in her own world, “I need your help.” She grabbed Ella’s hand and pulled her onto the bed. Even though Ella was sharp and critical at times, Angelina knew she loved her. “I need you to pray for me.”

  “What is it, sugar?”

  “I miss my mama,” Angelina sobbed, feeling the power behind Ella’s bright, black eyes. “I need her! Why can’t she be here? Why did the Lord have to take her?”

  Ella wrapped her arms around Angelina and kissed her on top of the head. “It was
that sickness that took her away, you know that. But the angels swooped down and brought her on home to Jesus,” she murmured, almost like she was singing a song. Angelina wept, unable to contain the grief she thought had been dealt with long ago. “Oh, child,” Ella said, rocking back and forth as she held Angelina like a little girl. “Have a good cry, then you dry those eyes ’fore your face looks a sight for Mr. Edward tonight.”

  “You know I don’t wanna marry him,” Angelina said, crying into Ella’s lap.

  “Shh. I know that, and I always have—but it’s not him you’re marryin’. It’s what he stands for, that’s what you’re marryin’.”

  Angelina looked at her through a pool of salty tears. “That’s a horrible thing to say.”

  “I know it is, and it don’t make for a happy marriage neither, so I guess I’m the one that has to tell ya. You sure do need someone else ’round here tellin’ you the truth other than Mr. Ben. He’s the only one who’ll put you in your place, and it makes you ’bout as mad as a wet hen.”

  Angelina contemplated these words, knowing they were true. “Maybe I did want Edward’s money before, but it means nothing to me now. I feel like I’ve changed somehow, Ella. I don’t care about the things I used to anymore. Not since Ben left for Middleton. I love Fairington and I always will, but the thing I care about the most is him. And I know he’ll never be truly happy until he gets his home back. That’s why I want to do what I can and get it for him.”

  “Why don’t you let Mr. Ben get his own home back? He’s a man and needs to do things a man’s way. He don’t need a woman messin’ with his business and bein’ his savior.” Ella gazed at her with those dark eyes that glistened with warmth. “Don’t you believe he’s a man?”

  “Of course I do,” Angelina replied, feigning shock.

  “I don’t mean in that way,” Ella smirked, her eyes twinkling now. “I mean a man who can run his own life, make his own way in the world. Don’t you think the Lord’ll help Mr. Ben do that? He is His child.”

  Angelina sniffed hard and wiped her tears with her sleeve. “That would mean he’s gotta win that race next week.”

  “What’s a race to the Good Lord? He raised up His son from the dead on a Sundee. You don’t think He can help His child, Mr. Ben, win a race on a Fridee? Is there anything too hard for the Lord?”

  “No, ma’am, I reckon there isn’t.”

  “You’ve gotta believe is all. I’ve seen Mr. Ben ride that Midnight Storm, and you have too. Mr. Edward don’t have a way with horses the way Mr. Ben does. It’s like he can talk to ’em, tell what they’re thinkin’. Now, that’s a gift from God that the Lord’s gonna use. I don’t believe for a minute that the Good Lord brought Mr. Ben all the way back here only to send him on to somewhere else. No, I believe he’s supposed to settle down right here in Laurel Grove. I believe his daddy gave him that land, and there ain’t nothin’ Mr. Edward can do ’bout it. If he wants to pick a fight, he’s picked it with the wrong person, ’cause the Lord Jesus Christ knows how to win every single battle.”

  Angelina sniffed again and squeezed Ella hard. “You make it sound so easy.”

  “It is easy, when you rest in Him. But it’s hard when you try to fix things on your own.” She kissed Angelina on the head again and gave her a firm pat on the back. “Stop tryin’ to fix Mr. Ben’s life. The Lord can fix things up a whole lot better than you can.” She wiped Angelina’s face with the edge of her apron and then stood and smoothed down her dress. “Now, I need to get back to my cookin’. You need anything before I go?”

  Angelina shook her head like a two year old. “No, ma’am.”

  Ella lifted Angelina’s chin so that she was forced to look into those dark eyes again. “I reckon Mr. Edward’s gonna go home angry tonight—and with that ring in his pocket?” She waited for an answer, wearing that sassy smile on her face that said, I know the answer and don’t bother saying anything different. The strength in Ella’s expression reminded Angelina of her mother and what she had witnessed all those years growing up at Fairington. It was a strength that told her to follow her heart and let the Lord take the lead. And it was the same strength she saw in Ben every time she looked at him. There was a source of power there that drew upon something buried deep inside her soul, connecting her to his heart.

  At that moment, something clicked, like a key in a lock—a decision was made—and it was as clear as day. Angelina smiled, and for the first time in a very long time, she felt excitement and hope for the future. Her face beamed, and she couldn’t help grinning from ear to ear. “I reckon he will, Ella. He’s gonna be as mad as a wet hen.”

  Ben pushed Midnight Storm down the dirt road that led to Fairington, urging the stallion to run faster. He hadn’t been back to the farm since the day he and Angelina had parted, and it seemed strange to be returning now, especially under the circumstances. Normally he enjoyed taking in the beauty of Fairington, with its old live oak trees, dogwoods, and azaleas, but today he took no notice. He only wanted to get to Angelina.

  “Well, hey there,” Billy said, smiling big as he moseyed out of the barn and waved. “What brings you out here, Ben? You gettin’ tired of Middleton already?”

  Ben ignored his pleasantries and dismounted, handing the boy his reins. “Billy, I need you to take the horse and hitch him for me, all right? I need to talk to Miss Raeford. She home yet?”

  “She is,” Billy said, looking confused. “Got here a little while ago. She and Ella are up at the house, but Jessie’s still in town. You want me to go fetch Tom so you can say hello? He and Mitchell are out yonder in the field.”

  “Tell him I need to talk,” Ben called back, heading toward the house. “I’m going to speak to Miss Raeford now.”

  As soon as he approached the kitchen door, Ella’s cheerful smile was there to greet him. “Well, Mr. Ben! What a nice surprise. Me and Miss Angel was just talkin’ ’bout you. Come on in and let me pour you a cup of coffee. You want somethin’ to eat?”

  “Thank you, Ella, but no,” he said, wiping his boots on the mat. “I need to speak with Angelina if I may.”

  “I’m sure she wants to speak with you too.” She winked at him and gave a sly smile as she grabbed a coffee mug from the mug rack.

  “No, Ella,” he said, latching hold of her wrist with a firm grip. “This is important. It can’t wait.”

  She hesitated a moment, staring into his eyes. “All right,” she said calmly, despite the fear clouding her expression. “Is there somethin’ I oughta know ’bout?”

  “No, ma’am. Not yet, at least.”

  “Well then, I reckon I better go call her.” She untied her apron and tossed it on the table. “You watch my soup,” she ordered, pointing to the pot that simmered on the stove.

  Ben nodded and then sat down, pulling his chair under the pine breakfast table. He looked around the kitchen at the bright copper pots hanging from the ceiling, the blue china plates on the oak sideboard, and the yellow floral chintz at the windows. A memory flashed through his mind of Angelina cuddled in her mama’s lap at this very seat while they read the Bible together, and then of Angelina setting an apple pie on the window sill to cool, only to have Ben swipe a hunk of the flaky crust. Anger crept out of that bottomless pit where all his emotions were stored and encircled him, round and round, bringing with it the urge to take his flint knife and plunge it deep until there was nothing but death. He shook his head, trying to chase these feelings away, but they clung to him like leeches from a swamp. How could he? Ben thought. How could Edward think of selling all of this?

  The sound of horses approaching brought a chill in the air, despite the heat. Ben peered out the window and saw Edward on Almighty, along with Sam Turner and Mason, both on horseback. Edward spoke to Tom and Mitchell, gesturing with his hands, while Billy tried his best to keep Midnight Storm settled from the excitement of being around the other horses. Finally, Billy pointed a finger at the house, and Edward quickly turned his head, looking at Ben dead on. He dismounte
d, stomping his boots on the dry ground, and headed toward the house.

  CHAPTER 26

  Ben stepped onto the porch and braced himself, keeping his fingers close to the handle of his flint knife. Edward smooth, svelte strides reminded him of the black mountain lion stalking its prey. Sam Turner lumbered behind, looking portly in his tight waistcoat, and Mason stood near the horses, wearing a terrified expression. Ben almost felt sorry for him.

  “Shouldn’t you be in the barn shoveling?” Edward asked, stopping a good three feet away. Sam stopped as well, flanking Edward on his left side.

  “I don’t work here anymore,” Ben replied, lowering his Stetson on his forehead. “I work for Isaac Richardson. I’m here on business with Miss Raeford.”

  “Business?” Edward chuckled as he made eye contact with Sam. “What business do you have with her?”

  “Well, I came here to tell her about you,” Ben said, as he stepped off the porch and glared at Edward, “and the plans you have for Fairington.”

  “You don’t know anything about my plans for Fairington,” Edward snapped.

  “I know you want her to sign something that says if she marries you, you have the right to sell this place to satisfy your Charleston creditors.”

  Edward moved closer and squinted under his hat. Ben could barely make out the deep brown of his eyes that appeared empty and dead. “I don’t know where you get your information.”

  “I got it straight from you. You plan to do to her what you did to my mother. Trick her into giving you what you want. Force her even.”

  The kitchen door slammed shut, and Angelina stepped onto the porch. “Edward, is that true?”

  “Don’t believe a word this heathen says, darling,” Edward said, not tearing his gaze away from Ben’s. “They’re liars, every last one of them. His ma acted like she didn’t understand English, when she understood everything. She knew that land had to come to me. His daddy owed me money, and he didn’t have near enough to pay things off.” His glare widened so that he barely blinked. “There were no tricks and no force.”