“I made a promise to your mama, and I’m a man who keeps his promises. I couldn’t trust that Edward Millhouse, and neither could she—we didn’t know what he’d do. We needed time—time for you to grow up. You were young and wild and needed to learn how to stand up tall to a devil like him and win.” He smiled at Ben, looking him over with pride. “And I’d say you’ve done that.”
Ben tried to clear his mind as emotion rose up in him, catching in his throat. Tears pricked his eyes and blurred his vision as he continued to stare at the word deed. “It’s really mine?”
“Yes, sir, son. Been yours all the time,” Tom said, placing a firm hand on his shoulder. “I hope you’ll forgive me—” Ben threw his arms around Tom’s neck and squeezed tight. What was there to forgive? Tom had protected him all these years, and he had never known it.
After a moment, they released each other and waited in the silence as Ben wiped his face and stared at the paper. “I always knew it would come to blows with Mr. Millhouse.” Tom’s eyes glistened brightly for a moment, making him look like a young man again. “I’m glad it wasn’t you who fired that shot. You don’t want that guilt hangin’ over your head.” He looked away for a moment and slid his hat back and forth on his head, finally settling it close to his brow. “I’m glad it was me that did it. I’ve lived my life. I never took the kind of risks you did, never lived it to the full. But you can, and you will. You can be free—and you are.” He looked into Ben’s eyes, revealing a love that poured out like a river. It was a love greater than what Ben saw in Isaac Richardson, a love that reminded him of his own daddy. “One day, when I see you livin’ your life on that farm, I’ll be able to go back in time and imagine I did things different.”
A warm feeling came over Ben, a peace that went beyond his understanding. He stared at the deed again and laughed. “I expect you’ve got something you wanna tell Miss Raeford, something you wanna show her,” Tom said, smiling in a sly manner. “So, go on, then.”
Ben grinned big and wide and then scurried out of the barn with the deed in his hand, not caring that he splashed through a sea of mud before getting to Ella’s clean floor. He thought about all that transpired—Angelina was his, Edward was going away, and now he held the deed to his property in his hand. And if it hadn’t been for God using an old, Iroquois man, things might be very different.
As he reached the porch, a strange sound brought a chill rushing through him. He stopped and listened. In the far distance came the familiar call of a wild animal that he knew to be the klandagi, the black mountain lion. It cried again, sounding lost, as if it was looking for its home. Ben stared into the darkness and whispered in his native tongue, “Go back, back to your place. Into the night.”
Immediately, the sound died away with the distant thunder. Ben looked back at the barn and saw the light from the Tom’s lantern shining through a crack in the wall. After a moment, it dimmed and then slowly died away.
CHAPTER 39
“Oh, Angel,” Jessie gushed, staring at Angelina in the vanity mirror, “Mama would be so proud.”
Angelina smiled at her reflection, admiring what she saw. Her mother’s taffeta wedding gown with tiny pleats and lace at the bodice fit her perfectly, accentuating her small waist and svelte form. The creaminess of the silk brought out the peachy glow of her skin and the blue ribbons at the waist and sleeves made her eyes look a brilliant blue. Jessie wanted her to wear her hair pulled off her neck in a curled updo, but Angelina wouldn’t hear of it. If she was getting married under the oak tree at Palmetto Ridge, she was going to wear her hair falling down her back, free to blow in the wind.
Angelina turned her head, admiring the cluster of long blue ribbons and small nosegay of wildflowers Ella had attached into a loose ponytail at the nape of her neck. It resembled a thick Cherokee braid as it flowed down her back and touched her waist. The finishing touch was her mama’s pearl earrings, a bouquet of roses, hydrangeas, and jasmine tied together with a matching cluster of blue ribbon, and Ben’s arrowhead. Angelina retrieved it from her vanity drawer and secured the leather string around her neck so that the sharp point lay flat against her chest. “Perfect,” Angelina said, smiling again. She giggled at Jessie’s expression, fighting to hold back the tears.
“Look at you!” Jessie grabbed Angelina’s hands and twirled her around the room, giggling even harder as her long, straight hair swung behind her like a dark curtain. Ella had stayed up all night sewing a simple, light blue silk gown with a full skirt that fit Jessie beautifully. The dress was elegant, yet plain, with no embellishments other than a lace-covered white sash at the waist. A small pair of pearl earrings and a nosegay of wildflowers and jasmine completed Jessie’s attire. Angelina never recognized how exquisite her sister looked, with her refined features and dark hair, until now. Without realizing it, her sister had grown into a breathtakingly beautiful woman.
“Stop now, you’re making me dizzy,” Angelina said, suppressing her laughter. Her shoulder was still a little sore at times, but the doctor said everything was as healed as it would ever be—time would eventually eliminate any lingering discomfort. That, and knowing Edward was somewhere far away, never to return.
“You ready?” Jessie asked.
“Yep.”
“Where do you think he’s taking you on your—you know,” Jessie blushed for a moment, flushing a dusty rose. “Your honeymoon?”
“Jessie Raeford, is that all you think about?”
“No!”
Angelina gave her sister a peck on the cheek and gathered her bouquet in her hand, breezing out the bedroom door into the hallway. “I don’t know. He says it’s a surprise.”
Jessie followed behind, scurrying down the mahogany staircase like a little mouse. “Ella and I think it’s the Blue Ridge. You know Mabel’s got that fancy upstairs bedroom she saves for special guests. And you know how much she thinks of Ben.”
Angelina stopped midway and smiled at Jessie. “I couldn’t say. Guess we’ll have to see.” She giggled again, knowing their first night would be spent in Ben’s tree house, with nothing but the moon and stars and God’s beautiful nature to keep them company. But no one needs to know, she thought, as she hurried downstairs to the marble foyer and out into the bright sunshine. It’s our little secret.
Ben adjusted his new, gray Stetson down low over his brow, shielding his eyes from the sun. Mabel had cleaned and repaired his blue serge riding coat, leaving no trace of what had happened with Edward. The white shirt was double starched to Mabel’s liking and was unbuttoned at the neck to allow for the blue silk ascot to nestle near the base of his throat. His black leather boots had been polished and shined like new, along with the silver buckles, and his tan, canvas trousers were tucked in tight against the boot tops, like an English lord. The only thing different about his appearance today compared to that of the Challenge was the Stetson and a tuft of a dark ponytail that protruded from the back of the hat brim. Angelina made him promise he would grow his hair out again, like his Uncle Bear Claw would have wanted.
“You nervous?” Tom asked, as they stood a good distance from the old oak tree on Palmetto Ridge, waiting for Angelina to arrive.
“No, sir.” But the truth was, Ben’s stomach was tied in one huge knot.
Tom chuckled and smacked him firmly on the back in a fatherly way. “She’ll be here, don’t you worry.”
A cool breeze carried the lilting laughter of Billy and Miranda Sutherland under her dainty, white parasol. Ella gave a gentle order to Clarissa, who assisted Mabel in setting up a makeshift table covered in a long, white linen cloth and laden with a picnic lunch fit for a king. There was fried chicken, of course, green beans with pearl onions, deviled eggs, rolls with country ham and butter, corn and field peas, and a huge spice and butter cake frosted with coconut icing and decorated with yellow roses and pink begonias.
Isaac sampled a taste of a cheese puff biscuit, and Mabel slapped his hand playfully. It warmed Ben’s heart to see Isaac having a bit of
fun. Ever since Isabella returned to Charleston, he had been sad and melancholy.
Mitchell spoke with Rebecca Thompson, keeping her company, while Stevie and Ward tried to make small talk with Tia, the young Cherokee girl Mabel employed. She smiled sweetly as she went about her duties, making Stevie blush a deep red. Ben turned away, thinking of his beautiful mother and the way she used to look at his father when she thought no one was watching. It was the same way Ben had looked at Angelina all of those years growing up.
“What time’s it getting to be?” he asked, feeling a wave of nervousness wash over him.
Tom closed the little black Bible with Angelina’s initials embossed on the cover and checked his pocket watch. “’Bout time she got here, I’d say.”
Midnight Storm grumbled, and Ben responded by offering the stallion a sugar cube. White Flower sauntered over and sniffed Ben’s pocket, wanting a treat as well. He stroked it on the neck, offering the last of the sugar, and smiled as his fingers rubbed against the frayed rope that hung from the edge of the filly’s halter—a sign of another escape from Rutherford. With Edward being gone, Mason had agreed that White Flower should stay with Ben, indefinitely. “No sense in me havin’ to keep fixin’ them ropes,” he had said. “You’re not the only one who needed to be free from Mr. Edward. Lots of us needed to be free, includin’ that filly. She shore did have more fight in her than I ever had. She’s got ’bout as much fight in her as Miss Raeford.” Ben recalled seeing the sparkle in Mason’s eye at the mention of Angelina.
“I see somethin’, yes, sir, I do,” Tom said, peering into the distance. “She’s comin’, that she is!” He turned to Ella and Mabel and yelled, “She’s comin’! Get ready, time’s a wastin’!”
Ben swallowed the lump in his throat, ignoring the hoopla and frantic behavior from the ladies as they prepared for the bride. He had waited all of his life for this moment, and it was finally here.
Peering into the distance, he saw the lilting movement of a dark gelding with a rider wearing a cloud of white, coming toward them. Angel, the voice inside of him said. Tears pricked his eyes as the rider came into full view. It was Angelina, of course, with her blonde curls blowing in the wind and a long, blue ribbon twirling behind her in the breeze. He had never seen anything more lovely.
“My, my,” Tom said, his voice thickening. “It’s like I’ve stepped back in time. Spittin’ image of her mama.”
She approached the oak tree with Jessie behind on Miss Majestic. Dismounting, they secured the horses, fluffed their dresses, and slowly processed toward Ben and Tom. Ella, Mabel, and Miranda gathered close, while the Fairington boys stood behind Ben, removing their hats in respect. Ben quickly followed suit and ran his fingers through his hair, slicking it down. Tom gave him a wink, assuring him that all was fine.
Ben’s heart swelled with emotion at seeing the beauty of Angelina. She was a vision, with her smooth, porcelain skin, tangled blonde hair, rosy lips, and fiery expression. He gazed into her bright, blue eyes, never wanting to let go. They spoke to him in a language he had never heard, but one he clearly understood—she was a part of him, that missing piece of his heart that had been cruelly taken away so long ago. Now God was restoring all that was lost and making it more glorious than Ben could have imagined.
Extending the Bible toward the couple, Tom said, “Dearly beloved, we are gathered here on this beautiful day to celebrate the union of this man, Ben Eagle-Smith, and this woman, Angelina McNair Raeford . . .”
Ben knew Tom was speaking, but he didn’t hear a word. He was propelled into his own world of blissful joy and peace in this life the Lord had given him. As Angelina melted into his arms, he dove into the depth of her eyes, swimming around in the cool deep, never wanting to return to the surface.
The arrowhead necklace pressed against his chest, reminding him that vows needed to be spoken. As Tom led him to say the words, “I will,” Ben lifted Angelina in his arms and kissed her, sensing a newfound freedom. She twittered like a little bird and laid her head on his shoulder as he carried her to the edge of Palmetto Ridge and surveyed Eagle’s Ridge Farm. The debris from the old house was gone and the restoration process was well under way. Ben imagined their big white farmhouse with columns and wraparound porch and plenty of bedrooms for a passel of children. “Welcome home,” he said, looking into Angelina’s eyes.
“Yes,” she said, smiling.
Laughter and applause resounded, followed by Ella’s invitations to “Come on and eat!” And in the distance, under the old oak tree, the horses gently neighed, giving their approval.
The End
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Caroline Friday is a novelist, award winning screenwriter, illustrator, and monthly columnist for christianfictiononlinemagazine.com. In 2008, she was a winner of the coveted Kairos Screenwriting Prize for spiritually uplifting screenplays, sponsored by the John Templeton Foundation. Caroline currently serves as EVP of Sixth Day Media, LLC, a film finance and production company headquartered in the Atlanta area. She lives in Marietta, Georgia, with her husband and three children and can be found at www.carolinefriday.com.
Table of Contents
Chapter 1. 6
Chapter 2. 13
Chapter 3. 24
Chapter 4. 30
Chapter 5. 37
Chapter 6. 46
Chapter 7. 52
Chapter 8. 59
Chapter 9. 67
Chapter 10. 74
Chapter 11. 82
Chapter 12. 88
Chapter 13. 95
Chapter 14. 101
Chapter 15. 111
Chapter 16. 117
Chapter 17. 128
Chapter 18. 135
Chapter 19. 144
Chapter 20. 153
Chapter 21. 161
Chapter 22. 168
Chapter 23. 180
Chapter 24. 191
Chapter 25. 196
Chapter 26. 203
Chapter 27. 210
Chapter 28. 216
Chapter 29. 226
Chapter 30. 234
Chapter 31. 240
Chapter 32. 245
Chapter 33. 255
Chapter 34. 264
Chapter 35. 272
Chapter 36. 280
Chapter 37. 289
Chapter 38. 299
Chapter 39. 305
About the Author.. 311
Where Love Runs Free (Tales from the Upcountry) Page 28
