The Color of Ivy (20 page)

It killed him to hear her admit as much.  How he wished he could track down that bastard who had tortured her and her sister for so many years and left her so internally scarred.

“It made him furious.  Not because he desired me so, but because I outwitted him.  No other female had ever stood up against his assaults.”  She broke off once more, her mind proceeding even if her voice did not.  Though the hurt
which darkened her eyes told him already what happened before she spoke the words.

“Is that why you left?”

“Not immediately.” She continued.  “But Mr. Hendrickson’s advances came to the point they were unbearable.  That night after he attacked me for the last time, I became very upset, I suppose a bit hysterical.  He in turn became angry and struck me across the face.  I foolishly struck him back.  When he hit me for the second time, the blow knocked me to the floor.  Blood fell from me mouth.”

Sam cursed savagely.  If the man wasn’t already dead, he would have enjoyed watching him suffer
, while Sam tore each limb, one by one from the man’s pathetic person.  He dragged his mind back to her words, forcing himself to concentrate on what she told him.

“Is it possible the blood fell onto your dress?”

“I don’t think so.  There was just enough for me to clean up with me handkerchief.”

Sam frowned.  “What did you do with the handkerchief?”

She paused, thinking back.  “I don’t recall.”

“
Is it possible you left it in the room?”

“Perhaps,” she said.  “I don’t know.  I could have dropped it.”

“All right.  So then what happened?”

“I was angry and threatened to go to the authorities, but he only laughed in me face.  Says no law would take me word over his.  Told me if I tried to run, he would track me down and drag me back.  And the punishment would be ten times as worse.”

“The reason for your alias.”  He thought out loud, not actually asking.

“Aye,” she answered, nevertheless.  “I couldn’t go back.”

“That was the last time you saw him?”

She nodded.  “I ran that very night.”

Her story explained a lot of the mystery surrounding Ivy, but not what actually occurred that night.  “And nothing else happened?  You didn’t speak to anyone?  Tell anyone you were leaving?  Not even Stella?”

“No,” she said, her voice suddenly gone dull, but then on an afterthought added, “Well, except for Becky.  She was in the corridor outside his chambers when I left.”

“Who’s that?”

“Stella’s daughter.  She
’s one of the kitchen maids.”

He frowned.  “What would she have been doing up in the bedroom corridors?”

Ivy gave a careless shrug.  “‘Tis not uncommon for a maid’s services being required beyond her duties.”

“Did you tell Becky what had happened?”

“No, of course not.  I was too ashamed.”

“You had nothing to be ashamed about.  You did nothing wrong.”

“I know that now.”

“You said nothing else to her?”

She shook her head.  “No, nothing else.”

He digested her words th
en said, “Then we have to talk to Becky.”

“Why?”

“Because we just found ourselves another eyewitness.  If she was in the corridor that night, she could have witnessed someone coming or going into Phillip’s chamber.  At the least, she could attest to the fact your dress was not splattered in blood.”  Though he knew it still did not explain how Phillip’s blood got on her dress.  “Are you sure when you struck him, you did not cut him?  Draw blood?”

“I’m positive.”

“Anyone you know who might have a vengeance against him?”

She snorted.  “Almost all the female maids.  He took liberties with most of them.”

“That wouldn’t explain your connection or why one of them would want to frame you.”

She frowned, obviously the thought never having crossed her mind.  “Why would they do that?”

“Honey, a person would do anything to avoid prison.”

Sam’s senses suddenly went into alert.  Someone was coming.  He went for his gun, but not nearly fast enough.

“Hold it right there, cowboy.”

Chapter 1
3

A man took a step out of the woods and Sam recognized him as the patron in the mercantile shop.  “What do you want?  We have nothing valuable on us.”

The man sneered and looked at Ivy, sending a warning to trigger down Sam’s spine.  “Ah, I think you do, cowboy.  When you came into town, I thought it mighty suspicious you were the lone survivor of that train derailment.  I headed for Fort William to find out exactly what happened on that train.  Thought maybe there was a bounty on your head I could collect.  But, hell, never figured it would be on such a little thing of a woman.  And at such a hefty price.”

Next to him, Sam noticed Ivy go rigid.  “Ivy, get behind me.”

“Stay right where you are little lady.”

Sam’s eyes narrowed as he surveyed the other man.  “What do you want?”

“Hell, cowboy, I thought it was obvious.  You have that sweet little filly move over here nice and slow.  I hate to bring her back dead seeing as her bounty is twice the size if she comes back alive.”

Sam surveyed the situation and cursed himself for not being more observant. 
Being soft on Ivy was proving detrimental to his survival skills.

“Tie her up on that horse of yours!” 
He ordered Sam.  Ivy glanced at Sam with big nervous eyes, then visibly relaxed when he sent her a
trust me
look.

“Now!” The man barked and
Ivy jumped.

Sam clenched his jaw working hard to keep from swinging for the guy now.  If Ivy wasn’t there, he wouldn’t have hesitated.  He knew his own skill.  But he could not risk Ivy’s life.  “It’s all right, Ivy.  Let’s do as the man says.  Tie you to the horse.”

Her eyes shifted to his face and he knew she caught his underlying message.  If there was one thing he had learned about Ivy in the past few days was that she was an expert at escaping most any restraint.  He helped her up onto the saddle, then proceeded to tie her wrists around the horn.

“Nice and tight now,” the man said behind them.  “Don’t want her falling off and cracking open that lovely little head of hers.”

Sam could barely restrain his rage.  It was apparent he planned on having his way with Ivy before delivering her to the authorities.  He took a moment longer than needed, pretending to secure her knots in order to control his rage before finally turning to face their assailant.  He needed to distract the man and give Ivy time to undo her restraints and get the hell out of there.  Only then could Sam react and take him down like the scum he was.

“I take it you haven’t been back to the village.”

The man’s eyes lingered on Ivy hungrily, barely taking any notice of Sam’s words.  “That’s right.  Pure luck I came across you on my way back from Fort William.”

Sam wanted nothing more than to gouge the man’s putrid eyes from his sockets at the way he was ogling Ivy.  Instead, he had to force himself to sound immune, draw the man’s attention from her and her hands.

“Hope you got no loved ones back there.”

This made the man frown and turn his attention at last away from Ivy.  “What the hell is that
supposed to me?  You threatening me?”

“Nope.  The Indians attacked the village, burned the church to the ground.”

The man swore under his breath.  “You better be lying about that.”

“‘Fraid not.  Them were some pretty
irate Indians you were living next to in the nearby reserve.”

“Bloody heathens!”  The man growled, his hatred causing foam to form at the corners of his mouth.  “Should have massacred ‘em years ago.  Nothing but animals they are.”

While the man was distracted, Sam inched ever so closer toward his gun.  A quick glance at Ivy showed she was near to untying the last knot.

At that moment, the man glanced at Ivy, noticed her ropes untied, cursed
, then turned the barrel of his gun on her.  “What the devil!”

“Get out of here, Ivy!”  Sam shouted and leaped for his gun.

But before he even reached it a shot rang out, followed by a scream.  He spun around wholeheartedly expecting to see Ivy fall to the ground in a heap of blood.  Instead, she remained seated on the horse, gazing at him with huge frightened eyes.  Not a drop of blood on her.

Sam’s head jerked around and saw the man instead
lying face down in the mud splattered earth.  A circle of blood forming on his back.  A movement outside the woods drew his attention.  The shaman who had visited them the night before rode slowly into their camp, his rifle still smoking.  And still pointed at Sam.

He held his breath as he watched him come closer, riding his mount toward Ivy.  Her face turned pale as the Indian drew alongside her.  If he took her, Sam knew there wouldn’t be enough time for him to reach his gun.

But to his surprise, the Indian spoke to her in English.  “Is he your man?”

She hesitated, and then nodded vaguely.

The Indian lowered his rifle and told her, “Then go.”

Ivy did not hesitate.  She slid off the horse and did her best at walk
ing that a limp ankle permitted.  Immediately, Sam reached out and wrapped his arm around her automatically moving her protectively behind him.  Then he faced the Indian and waited for his next move.

His dark eyes held Sam’s for a beat longer
, then turned his horse toward the dead man’s mount and collected its reins.  Glancing down at the body of its rider, he said, “It is a fool man that does not heed the warning of wildfires.”

Sam frowned, recalling the Indian’s reference to wildfires before.  At th
e time, Sam assumed his warning was in regards to Ivy.  Could he have misunderstood?  Perhaps the warning had actually been an omen.

With slowness, the
shaman brought his gaze back to Sam.  “One does not burn the forest because of one bad tree.”

The skin over Sam’s brows folded. 
What was that supposed to mean?  The Indian’s glance shifted to Ivy before turning away.  Sam noticed a look of curious understanding cross her features.

With a simple nod, the Indian
turned and rode out of their camp leading the dead man’s horse behind him.  Ivy walked slowly toward the corpse laying in his own pool of blood.  Her gaze seemed transfixed on him, though somehow he knew her mind was elsewhere.

“When I was younger, I use to condemn the other servants for not having the courage to come forward and help us.”

He watched her kneel down beside the dead man, wondering where that thought came from.  “Understandably.”

“But Moira would tell me to hold me tongue and that no good ever came out of judging others. 
Do not judge according to appearance, but judge with righteous judgment
.”

“John 7:24.”

She glanced up at him in surprise.

“
Judge not that ye be not judged
.”  He grinned and said, “Never took me for a choirboy, did ya?”  Then turning serious, added, “I too went through my years of seeking answers.”

A softness crossed her expression.  “I think we should bury him.”

Sam would have easily left him for the scavengers, but he could tell this man’s death troubled Ivy.  “If you want.”

“
Everyone deserves a proper burial.”

“I don’t think it’ll honestly matter in this fellow’s case.”  When she gave him a perplexed look, he said, “A riffraff like him was bound to find himself on the wrong end of a gun.”

Turning her attention back to the dead man, she at first didn’t reply.  Then asked, “Is there no hope for the riffraff’s of the world then, Sam?”

He knew she was speaking of herself and felt an uncomfortable sensation come over him.  “Hey, you’re not one of them.”

“Try telling that to a court.”

“Then we’ll just have to prove them wrong.”  When she didn’t look convinced, he sighed and offered instead, “I’ve got nothing to dig with, but we can build him a decent grave.”

It relieved him to see a tiny smile lift the corners of her mouth.  “Thank ye.”

They went to work collecting large rocks and sticks.  Returning to the body, he flipped it over onto its back and noticed blood gushing from the man’s chest along with some internal organs result
ing from the blast of the rifle at close proximity.  Automatically, Sam glanced up to see Ivy’s expression.  He didn’t know if he was looking to see her reaction or lack of, or simply hoped she hadn’t noticed.

Surprisingly, she looked at the
body with a calm indifference, not reflecting any kind of emotion.  Sam dragged the man’s body over to a flattened area of the forest where they proceeded to cover his body.  When they were done, Ivy stood back and asked, “Do ye think we ought to say something?”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know.”

When she offered nothing else, Sam sighed and said, “The Lord be with you and guide your spirit.”

Turning away, he went back to their camp and began packing up.  It was a few minutes before Ivy followed.

“How did he know about me, Sam?”

He glanced over at her troubled countenance.  Wanting to lighten the mood and put a smile back on her face, he said, “I guess you’re pretty popular, sweetheart.”

But she did not smile in return.  “I don’t understand any of this.  How could this have happened?  I didn’t kill him.”

“I know that, Ivy.  And we’ll make damn sure the authorities realize their mistake as well.”  He lifted a hand and touched her cheek.  “Don’t worry.”

Her face softened as she gazed back at him.  Finally she said, “I’m glad it was ye who found me, Sam Michalski.”

He smiled, but didn’t comment.  He couldn’t agree with her more.  If he didn’t clear her name as soon as possible, the Hendrickson’s would have their way and watch their former maid swing from the gallows.

* * *

“When we reach Fort William, I’m going to track down the local doc and have him take a look at your ankle.  After that, I’m going alone to the police station.  We’ll find a place for you to hold up in until I come and fetch you.”  Sam told her as the city appeared finally on the horizon two hours later.

“Are y’sure about this?  I mean, maybe I should come with ye.  After all, I didn’t commit any crime.”

“If only it were that simple.”  He sighed and patted her leg.  “Don’t worry, Ivy.  Everything will be fine.”

She truly wanted to believe his words.  But something wasn’t sitting right in the pit of her stomach.  She had no idea what it was.  Though it was difficult, Ivy handed Sam her fate.  Trusting another was something that did not come easy.  But with Sam, she was slowly beginning to do just that.

They rode together through the last of the thick woods until it opened to a huge meadow where a creek ran down the center.  Sam stopped long enough to allow the horse to drink before continuing on their way.  Ivy couldn’t help but wish he had stopped longer.  She was not eager to reach town.  The closer they drew, the more unsettled she became.

Her nervousness must have reflected on the outside for Sam
gave her another reassuring rub. “Relax, Ivy.  It will be all right.”

The last stretch of their journey finally came upon them as Sam pushed the horse up the slope
to the town’s perimeters.  As they cleared the top of the hill overlooking the city, Lake Superior stretched out beyond as far as the eye could see.  Its blue water glistened from the rays of the setting sun.

The town was a fai
r size, Ivy noted as her gaze drifted to the several buildings lined along the shoreline.  Not nearly as large as Chicago, but surprisingly large for being so far out of nowhere.  Long shadows streaked across the main street from the tall buildings flanking the lengthy road.  The town itself was a commotion of activity.  Buggies rattled over the dirt road, horses with riders zigzagged between them, and people congregated at almost every corner.

Sam led the horse over to a nearby hitching post in front of a general mercantile shop.  Then dismounting, he left Ivy to wait on the animal as he went ins
ide to inquire about a doctor.  Several inquisitive glances darted her way from passing pedestrians, causing her to squirm uncomfortably.  It had taken them seven, not three days to reach the city.  Since she had no mirror, she could only imagine how frightful she looked.

The door to the mercantile opened once more and Sam emerged.  “There’s a doc on the west end of town and, apparently, a livery just around the corner.  I’m going to take the horse in and find you somewhere to lay low while I go fetch the doc.”

Confused, she waited until he climbed back up on the horse before asking, “Why don’t ye just drop me off at the doctors then return the horse to the livery?”

Sam pulled the animal away from the shop and down a street heading south.  Obviously toward the livery.  “Sam?”

From behind, he tugged the hood of her cloak over her head and shielded her face, then leaned in close to whisper in her ear, “This is why.”

He thrust out a piece of paper from the inside of his coat and stuck it under her nose.  Ivy’s jaw dropped.  It was a wanted poster with
her likeness on it.  And for the first time, Ivy saw the dollar amount offered for her capture.  And the smaller but equally impressive reward for her death.  A funny sound escaped her throat.