Where Love Runs Free (Tales from the Upcountry) Read Free Page B

nestled into her
seat and they did likewise, but without a word. “There’s no reason to go all
quiet because of me,” Angelina said, taking a look around the crude, wooden
table. Wade and Stevie, two of the older trainers, sat across from Mitchell and
Billy, the younger men who groomed the horses and kept them tacked and ready to
train. And then there was the new man who sat at the end of the table—a native Indian
with his head bent over his plate. Angelina eyed him a moment, trying to get a
good look at his face. “Tom, Wade, you boys can go on and finish eating while
it’s hot. No sense in you letting Ella’s good cooking go cold on account of
me.” She chuckled, but no one else laughed. “Y’all save me a piece of chicken?”
    “Yes, ma’am,” Wade replied. “A drumstick. Just what you
like.”
    “Mmm.” She grabbed the end of the chicken leg and bit into
the meat, letting the flavors coat the inside of her mouth as she chewed. “I’d
say Ella out did herself tonight. Whadda y’all think?” Again, silence
prevailed, which gave Angelina pause. She noticed Tom and Wade cut their eyes
over to the end of the table where the Indian sat. “What’s the matter with
y’all? Cat got your tongue because of a new boy come to work for us?”
     “I’m not a boy , ma’am,” the Indian man said calmly,
refusing to look her way.
    “Excuse me?”
Angelina asked, her face flushing. “I call all my workers boys , don’t I,
Tom? Always have. You’re my boys while you work for Fairington. I take care of
my own. And if you have a problem with that—”
    “Ma’am?” Tom said gently, patting the top of her hand with
his palm. “Miss Raeford? It’s his first night.”
    She hesitated, reading Tom’s expression, but she wasn’t in
the mood to be dictated to. “Yes, well—perhaps we need to be properly introduced
so he can learn how we do things around here, hmm?” Tom gave her a strange look
she didn’t like one bit, but she chose to ignore him, focusing her attention on
the Indian man. “Sir? You there—yes, what is your name? Tell us so we can all
hear.”
    The Indian man set his fork down on his plate and stared
straight ahead a moment before answering. “Name’s Ben, ma’am.”
    “Ben?” Panic prickled Angelina’s cheeks and swooped down the
length of both arms, making her gulp hard. “Ben what?” she asked, noting the
shrillness that crept into her voice. Silence reigned again, prompting her to
abruptly stand so that her stool scraped against the wooden floor. “Won’t you
look at me when you speak?”
    “Miss Raeford,” Tom pleaded.
    She shoved Tom’s hand away and approached the Indian man,
noticing the strength in his back and shoulders and the sinews in his arms that
protruded below his shirt sleeves. He was young, about her age, and his skin
was a dark, golden brown, but not quite as brown as Tom’s. He stared at his
plate with his jaw clenched and his hands balled into fists. Angelina got a
good look at his profile and noticed the planes of his cheeks and the beads of
sweat that sprang up on his brow. As she drew nearer, her heart beat wildly in
her chest, making her light-headed. His hair was long and black, as shiny as
raven feathers, and was pulled back into a loose ponytail. She remembered that
hair, she did—and its silky feel. Without realizing it, her fingers reached out
to touch it, slowly and gently, when the sound of rumbling echoed in the
distance, followed by the ping of raindrops hitting the roof.
    “Oh!” Angelina jerked her head toward Tom, her eyes wide
with panic. “Eagle’s Wing—I left him out in the field.”
    “I’ll get right to it, ma’am,” Tom said, slamming his hat on
his head and bolting out the door.
    In a few moments, the pings turned to loud, torrential
splats of rain, making Angelina forget all about the Indian man. “Eagle’s
Wing!” she yelled, hurrying outside into the wind and flashes of lightning.  In
the distance, she could see