Where Love Runs Free (Tales from the Upcountry)

by Caroline Friday

  “I heard some of the men from town talking about it the other night,” she said, following close behind as he made his way to the barn. “It’s worth a bundle, even though Edward hasn’t done a thing with it. Then you can come live here and be my foreman, take over when Tom retires. I know how much you love Fairington. We could make this into the biggest, best horse farm in the whole state.”

  “I’ll never sell. Never.” He stared her down as his teeth sawed against each other, frightening her more than ever. “That’s my home, and it’s where I plan on building my life and living out my days—with or without you.”

  “You don’t mean that.” She stared into his eyes, pleading with his soul, but there was a hardness that she couldn’t penetrate. “Please, Ben.” She leaned against him, and he pulled her into his arms, wrapping his power and strength around her waist and drawing her into that flow of anger that swam behind his eyes. Something in his expression changed, and his face moved toward hers. She closed her eyes and relaxed in his embrace, feeling hope rise in her heart as his breath caressed her lips—but then suddenly, he released her.

  “No,” he said. The hard look was back, and so was his cold demeanor. “This belongs to you.” He reached into his trouser pocket, pulled out the arrowhead, and dropped it into her palm. “Take it and hide it in your tree. That’s where it belongs, same as how you’ve treated our love—a secret, an embarrassment that no one else knows about. Like it’s some secret sin that’s done in the dark. Well, I won’t be hidden away, Angelina. I won’t take a job as your foreman and love you in secret, waiting for the day when I become worthy in your eyes. Even if I have to give you up, even if my heart breaks in two—” He adjusted his Stetson and kicked the dirt with his boot, swallowing the emotions that thickened in his throat. “Marry Edward and his money if you want, be his wife and live this life that you’ve got planned for yourself. But be honest with him, and me. He may be a liar, but he’s got one thing right—all you really care about is this farm and your family name. Same as what your daddy and mama thought. It’s the same ole thing. Comes down to money and the color of our skin.”

  He walked away, and it was as though she had been kicked in the stomach—not because his words were a lie, but because, somehow, she knew they were true. He and Edward were right—Fairington and her daddy’s legacy were foremost on her mind, and shouldn’t they be? Did he really expect her to give all of that up and marry a penniless Cherokee trainer with nothing to offer her except childhood memories and words of affection? What would people think of her then? What would people say?

  Her mind agreed, but something tugged at Angelina’s heart as she watched his ponytail sway back and forth across his back, telling her to repent and change before it was too late. Go to him. Run to him, it seemed to say.

  “No, Lord. No,” she whispered, gulping down a sob.

  Not yet.

  CHAPTER 13

  Tom worked Ben and Mighty Wind all morning, which included racing along the fields and down the dirt paths that led to some of the neighboring farms. By lunch time, Mighty Wind was tuckered out, and so was Ben. He had Billy brush down the horse and covered it with a blanket so the sweat wouldn’t cause a chill. The final reward was a trough of hay and a bucket of water. “We’ll take a run tonight, how’s that?” Ben whispered in Mighty Wind’s ear, patting it on its neck. “And maybe I’ll bring you a treat.” The stallion stomped its front hoof and swished its tail, continuing to chew.

  Ben made his way to the main house, hoping to get a quick bite before Angelina and the other trainers sat down to eat. Through the corner of his eye, he watched her gallop Eagle’s Wing through the field while Mitchell rode on Captain’s Galley. It pained him to see at her, knowing the division between them. He pulled his Stetson down low over his brow to block his view. Maybe if he didn’t look her way or hear her voice, he could bear the rejection. He could eat his meals in the bunkhouse and ride after supper and in the early morning. And he could spend his afternoons tending to Mighty Wind when she was off with the other Fairington horses.

  He bounded up the porch steps, mulling over this plan, when the smell of stewed beef and potatoes hit his nostrils. “Come on in, Mr. Ben.” Ella wiped her hands on a dish towel and held the door open for him. “Sit yourself on down and get a plate.”

  “All right, maybe I will,” he said, feeling his stomach growl. “But I’ll have to make it quick.” He removed his hat and wiped his boots on the doormat. “Got a lot of work to do, then wanted to check in on Miss Richardson.”

  “Well, she’s sittin’ here at the table.”

  Ben stepped into the kitchen and nodded toward Isabella. “Oh, hello,” she said, her cheeks blooming a soft pink.

  “Hello,” he replied, suddenly conscious of his dusty boots and the sweat stains on his shirt. Usually, the women of Fairington took no notice of horse smells on the trainers, but Isabella Richardson was entirely different. She wore dresses and fancy jackets when she rode, and obviously insisted on a sidesaddle. And from what he heard from Angelina, she wasn’t much of a horsewoman in the first place, despite her father’s expertise.

  “She’s doin’ fine now,” Ella offered, pulling out a chair for Ben. “She and Miss Jessie had a good, long talk. Told her ’bout that time when she was little and that bear cub came up here lookin’ for food, ’bout scared the daylights outta me, her mama, and the whole bunch. But not Miss Jessie. Miss Jessie never been ’fraid of nothin’.”

  Ella placed a dish of stew in front of Isabella and smiled, waiting for her to tuck in, but she just stared at it and scrunched up her nose. “It sure smells good, Ella, but I don’t think I’m hungry now. All this talk about bears and wild animals has taken my appetite away.”

  “You sure?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “All right. Here you go, Mr. Ben. You eat up while it’s hot.”

  He looked at the thick stew and envisioned the black mountain lion lunging at Isabella’s horse, desiring to kill and eat. Suddenly, Tom’s voice drifted in through the open window, calling to Billy about something, and then Angelina answered to Mitchell. In a few minutes, the kitchen would be full of dirty, dusty horse trainers—and Angelina. “Maybe Miss Richardson is ready to go on home now,” Ben said. “How about I hitch up the buggy and take you back to Middleton?”

  “Oh, that would be nice, since I’m sure Daddy’ll be wondering where I am. And Miranda. We were supposed to meet this afternoon and share dress patterns.”

  Angelina stomped inside and threw her riding gloves on the table, bringing a thick silence into the room. Ben noticed that Edward’s ring wasn’t on her finger. “Ella, you serving lunch early today?” Her eyes narrowed at seeing Ben and Isabella sitting together.

  “Naw. Just Mr. Ben havin’ a little stew and keepin’ Miss Isabella company while I get the rest of it ready. Go on and sit down,” she said, shooing Angelina into her seat at the head of the table. “Go on. No use making a to-do over it.”

  “I’m not making a to-do.”

  Ben rose and put his hat on his head. “I was about to take Miss Richardson home—”

  “Please,” Isabella said, smiling at him, her eyelids fluttering for a moment, “it’s Isabella. After what you did, saving my life, it wouldn’t be right to have you calling my by some stuffy, formal name.”

  Ben waited, feeling Angelina’s hot stare. “All right—Isabella,” he said, liking the sound of her name on his lips. “I’d be obliged to drive you home.”

  “That’d be real nice,” Ella piped up, grinning at Angelina, who remained stone-faced.

  “Angelina, I do thank you for letting me rest here awhile after what happened,” Isabella said, chirping like a little bird. “I’m so embarrassed. I shouldn’t have been in the woods anyway. That mare has a mind of her own. I’ve never been able to control her.”

  “Yes, you were trespassing on Fairington land, you know,” Angelina said, cutting her off in a way that sent an icy chill into the room. “That mountain
lion would’ve been the least of your worries if one of the boys had mistaken you for something else—I don’t know what. Anyway, those woods are tough terrain for a rider with no experience like you, riding on that silly sidesaddle. I’ve made it my resolution that I’m not gonna trust any woman rider who doesn’t have sense enough to swing her leg over a horse’s backside and ride properly.” She flopped into a chair and smirked at Ben. He couldn’t help but notice Isabella’s mouth turn down and her lip quiver.

  “Miss Isabella, I’ve got a cherry pie in the ice box,” Ella said. “How ’bout I go fetch it, then you can plop it right smack-dab in the middle of Miss Angelina’s nose?”

  “Ella!” Angelina scolded.

  “If she won’t do it, then I’ll be glad to do the honors,” Ben said, angry at Angelina’s childish behavior. Isabella was sweet and gentle and didn’t deserve to be treated like a Fairington employee. “Isabella,” he said, ignoring Angelina’s hard look, “I’ll be glad to teach you how to ride, regular or sidesaddle. Whatever suits you.”

  Her face beamed. “Oh, would you?”

  “You don’t have time for that,” Angelina snapped.

  “I’ve gotta couple of hours in the afternoon,” he said, nodding to Isabella. “If that’ll do?”

  “Yes, that’ll be wonderful. I’ve always wanted to ride like Daddy, he’s just been too busy to teach me, and there wasn’t much chance of learning in Charleston. School takes up so much time, you know.”

  “No, I don’t know,” Angelina said in a voice that was firm and mean. She stood to her feet and stared Ben down. “It won’t do—it won’t a tall.” Her eyes looked as deep and blue as a moving river. “You work for Fairington. You work for me.”

  “Miss Raeford, I told you on my first day here, I’m not one of your boys, and I’m not your slave.” Ben could sense he was well beyond the limits of what was acceptable behavior for a hired hand, but he didn’t care. His mind lashed out, wanting to hurt her, even though his heart told him to be careful, to forgive. “Now, I’m gonna take Isabella home, then I’ll be back for supper.” He adjusted his Stetson on his head and slid his chair under the table. “Ella, I thank you for the stew, but I’ll wait and fill up later.”

  “That’ll be fine.” Ella bumped Angelina with her elbow before she could retaliate, warning her with a cross look to stay silent. Angelina’s face flushed red with anger, but her lips remained pinched together. “There you are, child,” Ella said with a cheery lilt in her voice. She handed Isabella a hefty bundle wrapped in a large bandana. “Got some hot cornbread for your daddy. I know how he likes it.”

  “Thank you.” Isabella took the bundle and smiled at Ella before frowning at Angelina’s sour expression. “Please tell Jessie I’ll see her soon.”

  Ben scooted out the door and stood on the porch, lifting his face into the brightness of the sun. After a few minutes, Isabella hobbled alongside him, wearing her navy blue riding coat. Even with the injured ankle, she looked lovely and refreshed, as though the incident with the mountain lion had never happened. “Here, let me help you,” he said. Adjusting his hat, he swept her into his arms and carried her down the steps.

  She giggled and wrapped her arms around his neck, sending a faint whiff of cinnamon and sugar in his direction. “I sure hope you don’t get in trouble for being so nice to me,” she purred, smiling sweetly.

  “I’ve never known anyone to have troubles because of that,” he said. “It’s meanness and hate in the world that seems to cause all the trouble.”

  She turned her head and looked toward the window to where Angelina watched from the kitchen table. “I think you’re right,” she said, giggling again.

  Ben wanted to turn and look himself, to let Angelina see in his eyes that his heart hadn’t changed, despite all that had happened. But he couldn’t. Instead, he made his way to the stable, carrying Isabella securely in his arms.

  CHAPTER 14

  Ben tried to still his mind as he drove the buggy toward Middleton Farm. The wheels maneuvered the ruts in the dirt road, jostling Isabella’s head against his shoulder while she slept. He was glad she had finally closed her eyes and drifted off so that their conversation could be kept to a minimum. All he could think of was Angelina. Her jealousy hurt him deeply, even though he didn’t want to admit it. It pierced his soul like a dagger, making him sick to his stomach. She had no right to be angry with him—it was he who had every right to be angry at the way she publicly denied their relationship. But if his feelings were justified, why was he so wracked with guilt?

  When I win the Carolina Challenge, he thought, allowing himself to dream. Maybe once he made a name for himself and got his land back, she would be able to see past his lack of wealth and native heritage. Maybe then she’d see how building a new life together, away from Fairington, was what was best. One day, Lord.

  The buggy hit another rut, waking Isabella with a yelp. She grabbed Ben’s arm and buried her face in his sleeve, moaning in pain. “Isabella?” he asked, alarmed at her distress.

  She shook her head, like she was trying to shake something from her brain. “It’s a dream,” she whispered.

  “You’re safe now.” Ben’s hand instinctively fell to his thigh where his old flint blade hung from his belt. He didn’t plan on getting caught without it again.

  “I keep seeing them.”

  “Seeing what?”

  “Those eyes,” she whispered. She gripped his sleeve and sobbed.

  “It’s all right.” Compassion struck him, and he pulled her close as she continued to weep. “You’re safe here with me.” Her shoulders seemed small and fragile compared to Angelina’s, which were a wonderful combination of softness and strength. He couldn’t help but think about what she was doing right now. Probably saddling up Eagle’s Wing for an afternoon run. She wouldn’t be caught dead crying like this over a scare with a mountain lion—although she did know how to cry when provoked. He closed his eyes for a minute, remembering the smell of her hair as they lay together under their oak tree on Palmetto Ridge. He pictured the long, shiny, blonde strands blowing in the breeze, flowing through his fingers like silk.

  The buggy hit another bump in the road, jerking Ben back to the present. He peered into the distance, beyond a canopy of oaks, and saw a large, white farmhouse that resembled an old cotton plantation rather than a horse farm. A high metal gate anchored by two enormous trees bore a sign that read Middleton Farm in large, black letters. “Look,” he said, pointing, “I see the house. See there?” The property was beautiful, consisting of white fences, large stables, and rolling green pastures. Ben smiled at seeing the horses dotting the horizon, galloping about and grazing the land. It was grand and spacious—a farm to be envied if he were the envying sort. But it wasn’t Fairington. And it wasn’t home.

  Isabella tightened her grip on his sleeve and sobbed again. “What is it?” he asked, confused at over her reaction. “You don’t wanna go home?” He thought for sure she would be delighted at the first sight of Middleton.

  “No. No, I do,” she said, sniffing and wiping her eyes with the backs of her gloves. “I don’t want you to go, that’s all.”

  A flush of heat rushed over him at what she was insinuating. “Miss Richardson—”

  “Isabella,” she said, sniffing again. “You said you’d call me Isabella, remember?”

  He looked straight ahead, feeling her eyes on him. “You know Angelina. She’s gonna want me back at Fairington. I’ve got work to do, training and all, and you need to nurse that ankle.”

  “Won’t you at least stay for an early supper?” Her tone reminded him of an eager schoolgirl begging the schoolmaster for permission to disobey the rules. “You never got any of Ella’s stew, and I’m sure Clara has cooked something wonderful that you’ll like. Everyone knows she’s one of the best cooks in the county.”

  He hesitated a moment, pondering the idea of having a meal at Middleton. He had always wanted to see what was behind those white columns and large windows. �
��We’ll see.”

  “So that’s a yes?” Ben took mental note that her sobs disappeared as quickly as they had come.

  “We’ll have to see what your daddy says first.”

  “Oh, that’s a yes, then. Daddy thinks the world of you since you were able to ride Midnight Storm so easily. He says that’s what made Angelina agree to buy, right then and there.”

  Ben smiled to himself, thinking back on the day he and Midnight Storm jumped the fence railing and showed off in front of Angelina and all the other trainers. By the time he and the stallion returned home, Isaac Richardson had sealed the deal and Midnight Storm belonged to Fairington. Even though he hadn’t received a personal thank you, Ben knew Isabella’s daddy was grateful to him for helping Angelina come to a quick decision. But that was business. Ben didn’t want to cause any discord between father and daughter, particularly after Isabella’s comments about her family’s reluctance to acknowledge their Cherokee roots.

  “You sure about that?” Ben asked, remembering Isaac being cordial to him at the engagement party but not going out of his way to be friendly. And then there was talk among the men in the bunkhouse about a beau from Charleston, wasn’t there? A Mark Kennedy, Edward’s friend. “What about your Charleston friends? What’re they gonna think about you inviting me for supper?”

  “Oh, well,” she said with a sigh, adjusting her arm through his. “I suppose you’re talking about Mark.” He didn’t answer, giving her the opportunity to explain. “Guess I oughta tell you since you brought it up. I haven’t mentioned it to a soul yet, except Daddy and Clara. Miranda doesn’t even know. But—there isn’t going to be a Mr. Kennedy after all.”

  A wave of panic washed over Ben for some unexplained reason. Suddenly, her head resting on his shoulder and small hand gripping his sleeve seemed inappropriate. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

  “I’m not. Turns out he likes his freedom in Charleston a little too much for my tastes. Bars and gambling halls. I told him at the engagement party. He’s probably back in Charleston by now.” Her voice sounded distant and sad, turning Ben’s panic into another dose of compassion. “Daddy never really liked Mark anyway. His favorite people are those who love horses—people like you. That’s all he ever talks about. Sometimes I think he loves his animals more than he does his own family—which leaves only me now that Mama’s gone. That’s why I thought I’d learn to ride after all these years.”