She touched the place where the knife had cut his hair, feeling the hope rise within her. Even though a part of her was glad he wasn’t awake to see what Edward had done, there was another part that wished he would open his eyes, rise up, and show the world what he was made of—like the day of the Promenade. But instead, he slept, as the rain continued to fall.
CHAPTER 29
Ben slept peacefully. He didn’t dream as far as he knew, and he had no memory of what happened that night. His body, however, told a different story. He ached from the top of his head down to the tip of his toes, his back stung like it had been attacked by a swarm of angry hornets, and his leg throbbed like crazy.
He opened his eyes to a stream of sunlight and a pair of boots standing on the porch floor. “Welcome back, son.” It was Isaac Richardson wearing a white work shirt with a pair of blue suspenders. He smiled big, showing his stained teeth.
“Where am I?” Ben murmured, trying to prop himself up against a pillow wedged between his back and a wooden rocking chair. He surveyed the expansive covered porch and the hanging ferns gently twirling in the breeze.
“Here, at Middleton,” Isaac said, easing himself into a rocking chair. “It’s a beautiful day, and I thought you might wanna sit out here and get some fresh air. You’ve been upstairs in that fancy guest suite for one too many days, in my opinion, and I won’t hear any more of it—even if Isabella does throw a fit. It’s not right to have a grown man in a frilly bedroom.”
Tom shuffled out the door onto the porch, patting his stomach. “That Clara sure can cook up a mean peach pie. ’Bout as good as Ella.” He removed his Stetson and smiled at Ben. “Ah—you’re lookin’ better today. Good color, eyes clear. You’ll be up and about in no time.”
Ben’s head felt lighter than usual, and he reached back, feeling the edge of his hair against the nape of his neck. His heart skipped a beat as a memory came darting from the past—the coolness of a metal blade against his skin and the heat from a roaring flame.
“The thing about hair,” Isaac said with a twinkle in his eye, “is it’ll grow back, sometimes thicker and healthier than before.” He smiled and ran a calloused palm over the top of his bald head. “’Cept when you’re talkin’ about old men like me and Tom who don’t have much on top but sprigs and weeds.”
“Speak for yourself,” Tom said, returning his hat to his head. He smiled at Ben and nodded. “Miss Raeford gives you her regards. She and Jessie say they’re comin’ over this afternoon. That is, if Miss Isabella doesn’t shoo ’em away.” He gazed into the distance, deep in thought. “Yep, that Miss Raeford, she’s still mad as all get out that we didn’t bring you over to Fairington. But you said Middleton was your home for now and you wanted to come on back here.”
“I don’t remember,” Ben said, feeling a wave of sadness crash over him. But he did remember, didn’t he? Closing his eyes, he saw the roaring flames again and heard the screams from Midnight Storm. He opened his eyes and knew. The house was gone.
“Well, you said it, and she didn’t take too kindly to it, neither. Still set on gettin’ her own way. Some things don’t ever change.” He cocked his head, studying Ben. “You remember anything about that night?” Ben shrugged his shoulders, mindful of the pain which was shooting through his body. “Well, let’s just say you got in a fight with Edward Millhouse, and it was somethin’ else. He tried to whip you, and he might have done it too, if it weren’t for the Good Lord. He saw to it that Miss Raeford and I got there just in time.”
Ben’s teeth tightened together until his jaw ached. “I remember the fire,” he said, his voice laced with bitterness.
Sighing, Tom patted him gently on the shoulder. “Don’t you worry yourself over that. Miss Raeford’s already talkin’ ’bout helpin’ you rebuild one day.”
“’Course the offer to stay on here at Middleton is still good,” Isaac piped in, rocking back and forth in his rocker.
Tom smirked at Isaac, giving him a wink. “Don’t listen to him. That land’s yours, and you and I know it.” He pulled a folded piece of yellowed paper from his back pocket, which was crumbled and blackened from smoke. Gently, he unfolded it and handed it to Ben, revealing his father’s distinctive handwriting. “Found it in the fire under a cupboard. The rain got to it before the flames did.” Tom stooped low and spoke into Ben’s ear. “You know what you have to do, son. Get out there and make it what your pa always wanted it to be.”
Ben knew what he meant. The Challenge was days away, and he had to ride, regardless of the pain in his body. He could hear his father’s soothing words, telling him, This land is yours. Use it to glorify God. Then he saw his mother’s beautiful, brown face in his mind, with her long, flowing dark hair. Her voice blended with his father’s, like a wonderful symphony of God-ordained music. Don’t look to the outer man, it said. Let others see that you’re a man after God’s own heart. Forgive, as you have been forgiven.
The resentment in his heart ebbed for a moment, being washed away by the softness of peace, but then like a fiery dart, another thought came. How can you forgive him for what he’s done? How can you forgive such a man?
The clop of horse hooves disrupted Ben’s thoughts as buggy wheels bumped along the stone path leading to the house. “Well, I’ll be!” Isabella flashed a smile as she arrived in her shiny new surrey pulled by a beautiful gray appaloosa named Sweets. Ben thought it was a silly name for a fine looking mare, but then again, almost everything Isabella said and did was silly.
Tom grumbled to himself as she hopped down from her perch, fluffed her navy blue poplin skirt trimmed in dark blue velvet, and swung her brown curls over her shoulder. Her double-breasted jacket matched the skirt, complete with mother-of-pearl buttons and dark blue velvet piping stitched along the seams. With her new hat adorned with silk and velvet rosettes and tulle veil, she was a vision. “Look at you!” she exclaimed, grinning at Ben while she clapped her gloved hands in glee. “Why you look fine—as healthy as an ox! I’m gonna call Clara right now and tell her to fix up the biggest lunch you’ve ever seen. How ’bout some fried chicken and picnic potatoes? And I’m sure we can rustle up a piece of chocolate pie.”
“Leave the boy alone, Isabella,” Isaac said. “He’s not a prized pig bein’ fattened up for the slaughter.”
“Well, it wouldn’t hurt him to fatten up a little.” She bounded up the steps and slinked past Tom. “Oh, Ben,” she cooed, adjusting the collar on his white cotton shirt, “everybody in town’s been worried sick over you—all except that Edward, but we won’t say a word about him.” She kissed him on the forehead and stroked his short hair. “I do like it. It suits you. You look as handsome as can be. And besides, I think it’s about time you started looking, you know—” She hesitated for a moment, searching for the right word. “Like a normal man, don’t you think?”
Isaac’s rocking chair halted, and Tom cleared his throat, shifting his weight from one boot to the other. A cool breeze blew the hanging baskets gently from side to side, and the call of a flock of birds came from a row of neighboring oak trees.
“Normal?” Ben asked.
“I didn’t mean it that way,” Isabella said, her face reddening. “I thought you’d want to know how nice you look.” She laid her hand on his arm and flashed a warm smile. Normally, her exquisite features and porcelain skin were enough to charm him, even for a moment, but now he felt disgusted and dirty. Pushing her away, he rose to his feet, fighting the pain in his back and leg. “Ben—”
But he ignored her, aware of something that had awakened inside of him. Her comment allowed him to see how wrong is was for him to stay on here at Middleton Farm. As wonderful as it was, he could never accept her advances or Isaac’s offers to make it his home. Tom was right. He only had one home, even if it was destroyed. “Where’s my horse?”
“You’re gonna ride?” Isabella asked in a frantic tone. “So soon?”
“Midnight Storm’s out to pasture over yonder.” Tom pointed to a green strip of land
beyond the training pens where Ben could barely make out the outline of several horses grazing in the field. “He’s been waitin’ for you.”
Ben nodded, seeing a dark stallion with four white socks move in the distance, its form becoming more distinct. “I reckon he’s waited long enough,” he said, imagining he was speaking softly in its velvety ear. He smiled at the tail that swished wildly, back and forth, as the horse approached the edge of the field. Then ginning big and wide, Ben cupped a hand over his mouth and called to the animal in Cherokee. Within seconds, Midnight Storm picked up speed and jumped the wooden fence, clearing the railing by a good six inches.
“Lord in heaven,” Isaac said, rising to his feet.
Ben laughed at the sight of the stallion racing through the riding rings, scurrying some of the other horses out of the way and dodging the trainers who tried in vain to corral it with halters and ropes. “Would you look at that!” Tom exclaimed, chuckling with Ben. Finally, Midnight Storm broke free from the mayhem and made a beeline to the house, straight toward Ben. “I’d say he missed you somethin’ bad.”
“I missed him too,” Ben said, throwing his arms around the stallion’s neck and nuzzling his nose against its sleek fur. “You are something else, you know that, boy?”
“He sure is,” Isaac said, patting the horse’s side. “Too bad I let him get away.” Ben turned to him, hating what he had to do. “Sir—”
“You don’t have to say it,” Isaac said, cutting him short. There was sadness in his eyes and regret for what could have been. “I knew this day was comin’, I just didn’t want it to be today.”
“Thank you for all you’ve done.” Ben extended his hand toward Isaac, and he grabbed it, pulling Ben into a bear hug.
“I pray the Good Lord blesses you,” Isaac said, whispering into Ben’s neck. “I pray He blesses you in everything you do.”
“Daddy?” Isabella asked, looking confused. “What’s going on?”
“Well, darlin’,” Isaac said, wiping a tear away. “It looks like Mr. Ben Eagle-Smith’s goin’ back home to where he belongs.”
“Home? But it’s all burned up!”
Ben grabbed Midnight Storm’s mane and leapt onto the horse’s back, as naturally as if he were climbing over a fallen log. He winced for only a moment and then felt the pain fade away. “Isabella—thank you, too, for all you’ve done. I’ll see you at the Challenge.”
“The Challenge? You mean you’re gonna ride it after all?”
“Why wouldn’t I? I made a wager with Mr. Millhouse, and I wouldn’t want to disappoint him.”
Tom smiled and gave Ben a wink. “You’re mama’d be proud. And your daddy too.”
Ben fought the foul taste that threatened to creep back into his mouth at the mention of his mother. Squeezing Midnight Storm with his heels, he gave a nod and urged the horse forward, riding toward the open field.
A frantic voice drifted over him, swirling together with the wind. “Ben! Ben!” He looked back and caught a glimpse of Isabella’s blue skirt and fancy hat following behind. Pulling hard on Midnight Storm’s mane, he brought the stallion to an awkward stop. “Ben, you can’t leave, you just can’t!” Isabella ran to him and clung to his leg, sobbing on his boot. “I thought you liked it here,” she cried. “I thought you were happy.”
“Isabella, try and understand—”
“But I can’t!” she said, shaking her head and knocking her hat loose so that it tumbled to the ground. “I’ll never understand.” Her eyes glistened with a longing that crushed him—he had no idea how badly he had wounded her. “I love you, Ben. I’ve loved you from the first moment I saw you. I didn’t care about you being Cherokee and having no home, I didn’t care. And I don’t care now. I won’t care even if Edward does beat you at the Challenge. Please stay,” she sobbed. “Please—”
He climbed down from Midnight Storm and gathered her in his arms while she wept into his chest. “Isabella,” he said, stroking her hair, “stop crying, now.”
“I can’t.” She shook her head again, like a little child. “I won’t!”
“You don’t love me. You just think you do.”
“You’re wrong! You don’t know!”
He tugged at her chin, forcing her to look at him. “I know that one day the right man will come along, a man God has chosen for you, and you’ll know it, right here in your heart,” he gestured toward her chest. “Not in your head.”
“If you’d give me a chance—let me prove that what I feel for you is real.” She rose up on her tiptoes and brushed her lips against his mouth, but he gently pushed her away.
“No, Isabella,” he said, shaking his head.
“But why?”
The tears in her eyes pained him, but he had to admit the truth. “Because my heart belongs to someone else.”
“I guess you’re referring to that Angelina Raeford,” she snapped. “I don’t know what you see in her. She’s rude and crass and hasn’t treated you with any respect at all. She’s strung you and Edward along for all this time, and for what? She’s the one who’s caused all this trouble between you two,” she said, her eyes blazing. “If it weren’t for her, things would be fine!” She sobbed again, blubbering into her sleeve.
“I love her despite everything that’s happened. I always have, and nothing will ever change that.” He stepped away and leapt on Midnight Storm’s back, grabbing hold of its mane. “Forgive me, Isabella, if I’ve hurt you. I never meant any harm.” She hung her head for the longest time, sniffing away her tears. “Isabella?” He leaned down and cupped her chin in his hand so that she had to look him in the eye. “Forgive me?”
She nodded, letting out another sob, and then picked up her hat and sauntered back to the house.
CHAPTER 30
Eagle’s Wing tossed its head while Angelina sat in the saddle, hidden by a grove of magnolia trees that bordered Middleton Farm. A combination of panic, shock, and humiliation engulfed her as she watched Ben gallop away. Tears gathered in her eyelashes, proving that what she was experiencing was another form of grief. She was glad Jessie had decided not to accompany her, since it would have been even more painful to hear her sister come up with a dozen reasons why Ben had held Isabella in his arms. She knew what she had seen, and she still couldn’t believe it—Ben wrapped around Isabella and holding her close, allowing her to kiss him.
“Miss Raeford!” Tom called, waving from the porch. Angelina blinked the tears away and squinted, seeing his pale Stetson sail back and forth over his head. “Come on,” he called, motioning with his hands as if he were scooping up the air and washing it over him. When she didn’t respond, he stomped toward her, grinning from ear to ear. “Why’re you hidin’ like that in the trees?”
Clicking her tongue, she walked Eagle’s Wing to the open field. “Came to see how Ben’s doing,” she answered, watching Ben and Midnight Storm disappear into the distance. “But looks like he’s doing just fine.”
Tom patted her on the knee and grinned again. “Don’t you think one thing ’bout that. He was sayin’ his good-byes is all.”
“He’s got a fine way of showing it.”
Eagle’s Wing grumbled and pulled against the reins as Isabella stomped through the thick grass, swinging her arms violently. Her face was splotchy, her eyes were red, and her normal, pristine demeanor appeared messy and disheveled. Several curls had fallen loose from her formerly neat hairdo and a few strands of hair clung to her cheeks like she had been caught in an afternoon rain drizzle. Even her hat was dusty and crumpled.
“Angelina,” she said in a haughty tone. She stopped in her tracks and glared at Angelina through a pair of glistening eyes. “I can’t pretend to think you’ve come to Middleton to see anyone but Ben.”
Angelina looked at Tom, who shrugged his shoulders in dismay. “Well, yes, Isabella,” she said politely, “I did give word I was coming over this afternoon to see if he was better.”
“Well, he doesn’t want to see you, ever again!”
&nbs
p; “Miss Richardson!” Tom interjected, sounding stern. “You know for a fact there’s not an ounce of truth to that.”
“Are you calling me a liar on my own property?”
“No, ma’am, I’m not,” he said, holding her stare.
“Well then, kindly refrain from expressing your opinions to me so freely, unless you’ve been asked to speak.”
Tom glared at her, but she didn’t cower in the least. Instead, her eyes darted to Angelina, to Tom, and back to Angelina. “I know what I know—and Ben’s told me so himself. He’s had enough heartache from you and the whole Raeford family,” she said, jabbing her finger in the air, straight at Angelina. “If it weren’t for you, his house would still be standing, and Edward wouldn’t be acting so mean and cruel.”
“Huh!” Angelina said, trying hard to bite her tongue, but it was no use. Isabella’s scrunched up face and wagging finger was enough to start a fire in her belly, especially when Edward’s character was being defended. “You haven’t the foggiest idea what you’re talking about!”
“I do!” Isabella snapped.
“Miss Raeford, Miss Richardson,” Tom said, stepping in front of Eagle’s Wing. “I think it’s best if we end this conversation now.”
But Isabella ignored him, as if she hadn’t heard. “I’ve known Edward Millhouse for years, and he would never do anything so vile and cruel if he weren’t provoked. You should be ashamed, ashamed for playing with men’s hearts, making them do such terrible things! I hope you’ve learned your lesson. Now, leave them alone, especially Ben. He wants peace and love and respect. And we all know you’re totally incapable of loving anyone but yourself!”
Where Love Runs Free (Tales from the Upcountry) Page 21