The Color of Ivy (7 page)

He never liked redheads.  They reminded him of his mother.

Unwillingly, he slid a glance at the strands in question, glistening in the sunlight.  Hers though, were admittedly more on the strawberry side with the odd streak of blond highlights throughout.  The curls were natural and, in opposition to her persona, looked soft even in their disheveled appearance.  If she had worn them long, he didn’t doubt they could bewitch the best of men.  As it was, she styled it short, just below the ear.  Very unusual.  He didn’t know many females risqué enough to wear theirs short.

Not that her appearance would have any foundation on how he treated her anyway, he thought pushing forward.  Many a men believed poison ivy to be safe in the
autumn when the plant bore red leaves.  However, once burned by the deceptive plant, one learned quickly never to trust the colored leaves.  And this definitely was one Ivy he had no intention of misjudging.

With his attention back on the trail, he forced his thoughts to concentrate on where he was stepping.  Had he not just said never again would he allow a woman to distract him from his task?  He hated the idea of being stuck alone with her in this god-forsaken country.  This capture was supposed to be swift and rewarding.  An easy job with a big bounty.  So much so that he had actually thought of leaving it for someone else to track her down.  But the reward was too tempting to turn
his back on.

And there was that other reason.

It made his insides curl with hatred to think of a woman getting away with murder.  Yes, perhaps it was personal.  But the real reward would come when he watched Ivy McGregor swing from her scaffold.

He stopped near a large oak tree.  “Best rest, ma’am.  You’re not looking so good.”

He saw her eyes flare, but wordlessly, almost gratefully, slumped against a tree.  Sam took the rope and wrapped it around both the tree and Ivy McGregor.  Immediately, she became alert.

“What do think ye be doing?”

“There’s a stream through the bush.  We’ll be needing water soon, otherwise we’ll become dehydrated.”

“Then why be tying me up?”  Her voice was beginning to rise with panic.  Sam ignored it and secured a knot tightly on the opposite side of the tree where she couldn’t reach.

“I’m a bit too tired to be doing any more chasing through the woods today, ma’am.”

“If ye haven’t noticed, Mr. Michalski, so am I.”

“Still the same.”

He left and headed toward the embankment toward the creek, but glanced over his shoulder to give Ivy a quick glance.  Contrary to her own words, she was trying to loosen her restraints.  He shook his head and continued moving, not any faster, but not necessarily any slower either.  Even if she were successful in escaping, he didn’t doubt she was too exhausted to do any sort of running.

Kneeling at the water’s edge, he gingerly removed his hat and noticed the blood stain on the inside rim.  He had wanted to remove it earlier, but knew better than to reveal an injury to his prisoner.  A quick perusal of the plants in the area and he was able to gather some healing leaves.  Cleaning the injured area, he applied the plants and gritted his teeth from the stinging it provided.  For a moment, his head swam, but just as swiftly past and Sam was able to rinse the remainder of blood out of his hair.

He watched the dried blood dissolve in the little stream before he reached for the canteen he had retrieved from the train and filled it to the brim.  Giving his Stetson a good scrubbing, he placed it on his head
, then turned and headed back to where he left Ivy tied to the tree.  Sure enough, she stopped struggling against her restraints the moment he cleared the woods.

He exhaled heavily
, but held the canteen to her lips nevertheless.  “Here.”

She turned away.

Shrugging, he lifted it to his own mouth and said before taking a large gulp, “Suit yourself.”

“I’ll not be accepting any of yer aid, Mr. Michalski.”

“Don’t mistake simple human needs for aid, ma’am.  You won’t be receiving any from me.”

She lifted her chin and stared at him.  “How can ye be so cold?  Do ye have any idea what will happen if I go back to Chicago?”

“Not
if
, ma’am, but when.”

Her eyes turned hard.  “Stop calling me that.”

“Pardon?”

“Ye stand there, acting like some gentleman when in fact ye ain’t nothing but a cold and heartless animal.”

His jaw tensed as he felt a surge of anger gurgle to life inside.  “If there are any animals amongst us, ma’am, it wouldn’t be me.”

“Ye left them people on the train
to die.”

“So did you.”

“I was running for me life, ye were running for greed.”

He moved swiftly, shoving his face directly into hers.  “I ran to ensure justice is served.”

“Justice?  They’ll be killing me.”

“More than likely.”

Her eyes flinched, but otherwise made no other comment.

He released a frustrated breath.  “
There wasn’t anything we could have done for them.  They’d already perished in the crash.”

Without bothering to wait for her reaction, h
e turned and found a boulder to rest upon.  Though he would never let on, his legs were getting exhausted and he needed to get off his feet and give them a good and overdue rest.

His eyes shifted to Ivy
McGregor pinned to the tree in a standing position.  Her bad leg had been given her troubles throughout the journey.  No doubt, she was suffering.  Her face, however, showed no signs.  She was ramrod.  Refusing to show any weakness.

He would have loved nothing more than to make her suffer, but she wouldn’t be able to last much longer before she collapsed.  Sighing, he got up and untied the rope.

As soon as he released her restraints, her legs buckled beneath her sending Ivy to the ground in one large grey heap.  Standing there watching her, something nagged horribly inside.  Hell, he recognized it.  Wanted desperately to ignore it.  She deserved the pain, the suffering.  A woman like this deserved no mercy.

Reaching down
, he grabbed her arm and hoisted her up.

“Leave me alone!”  She hit at his hand feebly, hardly having the strength to fight.  “Don’t be touching me.”

He dragged her the few feet to the boulder he had abandoned and plopped her down.  Her copper hair cascaded down her face as she hung her chin in exhaustion.

“We’ll rest for ten more minutes,” he said, hating the way her slumped shoulders made something inside
twist.  Stiffening, he forced himself to grow immune.  “Then we keep moving.”

Chapter
5

Ivy’s
ankle throbbed, but she refused to rub it and allow him to see her suffering.  The sun was warm and bright, but the September wind was chilly and she had to bite down hard on her lip to stop its revealing tremble.  What she wouldn’t give to be in a nice warm bed at that moment.

Exhaustion had her closing her eyes.  He wouldn’t be able to see with her hair hiding her face.  With her lids closing out the man, she contemplated her situation.  It seemed her entire life was full of such situations.  Not that she
often found herself being chased through the Canadian wilderness by a heartless and greedy cowboy.  But rather, she more than not found herself defending her life.

She opened her eyes and peered at him through her strands of hair.  He was leaning against a tree, his long overcoat hanging open slightly.  She could see his holster and the gun beneath.  Never before had she used one, but she wouldn’t allow that to deter her.  She
would not surrender.  With all she had left, she would not give in.

“Time
’s up,” he said.  “Let’s go.”

Her wrists burned as he pulled the rope and tied it around them.  Hardly having the strength to stand, she practically stumbled off the boulder
, but managed to upright herself and follow him into the woods.

They plow
ed forward through thick bush for several hours.  The sun had begun its descent into the western horizon.  Ivy felt horribly dehydrated and regretted having refused the water he offered earlier.  She noted the canteen hanging over his shoulder, just within arm’s reach, and wished it was his gun instead.

They reached a steep incline where a wall of hard rock
loomed before them.  She was surprised when Sam started to climb.

“What do ye think ye be doing?”

“What does it look like?”

“Ye not seriously thinking of climbing up that?”

“Good guess.”

She went rigid.  “Untie me.”

He ignored her and placed his foot in another notch on the rocky surface and pulled himself up.  The ropes around Ivy’s wrists tugged, yanking her arms forward.  Panic gurgled in her throat.

“Y
e have to untie me.  I can’t be climbing up there.”

“You have no choice,” he said.  “We need to find shelter soon before it gets too dark.”

Shelter?  Out here?  Oh God, she felt herself wanting to vomit again.  She lifted her chin and watched him gain another footing higher into the wall.  “Why up there?  Why not down here?”

“Because the ground is too damp down there.  It’s best we re
ach higher ground where it’s drier.”

“But I can’t make it up there.”

“Start climbing, Ms. McGregor.”

As he climbed higher, the ropes forced her closer to the rock surface.  There was no way she would be able to climb.  Perhaps it hadn’t been so wise to hide her disability.  If she climbed
the wall, she was sure to fall to her death.  And bring Sam Michalski down with her.

“That’s impossible with me hands tied.”

He sighed and glanced down at her.  Then, surprisingly, made his way back down to her side.  Ivy sighed with relief.  He had changed his mind.

But she was wrong.  He simply untied the rope secured around her wrists and tied it around her waist instead.

“Are ye insane?  I can’t climb.”

“You’re climbing, Ms.
McGregor.”

Anxiety grabbed hold of her as her eyes peered up the steep wall.  She had never climbed anything before in her life.  Sam had unlocked the handcuffs and slipped them off her wrists.  She was relieved to be rid of the blistering restraints.  Automatically, she rubbed the
raw skin where the cuffs had scorched her.  To her surprise, Sam snatched them back and turned them over to look at.  His chin snapped up.

“Why didn’t you tell me they were too tight?”

“Would it have made a difference?”

He sighed angrily and dropped her wrists to turn abruptly away.  With the rope now looped
securely about her midriff, he gave it a tug and told her, “Start climbing.”

He waited for her to go first, to ensure
, no doubt, she did not attempt to run.  Even if she had wanted to, Ivy didn’t think she would have gotten far, seeing how exhausted she was.  The hillside was fairly steep, thus forcing her to crawl up on her hands and knees.  Her wrists throbbed, her frozen fingers felt useless as she tried to grip the rocky surface.  More than once her foot slipped and she grabbed on to the edge of the wall for dear life.  A quick glance over her shoulder indicated she had reached higher ground than she realized.

Just below her, Sam was not far behind
, but on the contrary, was having no difficulties with the climb and was making better progress.  She knew she was holding him up, but didn’t care.

The top came into sight
at last, and Ivy released a sigh of relief a moment before her boot lost its footing.  Instinctively, she reached for something to grab hold, and found nothing.  The wall was flat sheer rock.

Then
, to her horror, she felt her body begin to slip.  Her other boot scrambled trying desperately to maintain its foothold.  But it was no use.  She screamed as her body began sliding downward.

“Grab on to something!” Sam shouted
just below.

She tried, but it was useless.  The
wall slid between her fingers as easily as lard on a warm summer day.  Then, unexpectedly, the rope around her midriff tightened and her body gave a violent but sudden lurch.  She gasped, her breath feeling as if it had been punched from her lungs.

“Ivy?”

Blinking, she stared at the jagged face of the earth directly beneath her cheek.  It dawned on her that Sam’s voice had come from above her, not below.  With effort she raised her chin and realized he somehow climbed past her and reached the top safely.

In a flash, a memory of her dangling from a rope such as she was now resurfaced.  Her vision blurred with white pa
nic.  It circled her stomach, then spiraled upward.

“Grab the rope!” Sam barked.

She had to open and close her eyes several times, trying to focus.  Her hands hurt from the scraping they received as she slid down the hill, trying to grasp a hold of something.

“Ivy, grab the damn rope!”

Believe it or not, his anger drew her focus back.  With determination, she clawed the rope and hung on, praying he would not drop her.  The rope dug into her flesh as he tightened his hold and heaved her upward.  Ivy’s boots scraped the rocky surface, trying desperately to get a better grip and take some of the slack off her waist.  Pain seared every inch of her body, but she focused on reaching the crest.

When her feet at last touched the top, she could have dropped back down and kissed the earth, so grateful to feel it beneath herself once more.  However, Sam hauled her up in order to give her his best mean scowl as he bellowed, “What the hell is wrong with you?  Were you trying to kill us?”

“Of course not!”

“Why the hell wouldn’t you grab the rope?”

Anger swiftly wiped out the fear still clinging to her bones.  “I didn’t want to be climbing this damn wall, but ye insisted.”

She felt a spark of satisfaction when a look of remorse crossed his fa
ce.  Even if it was momentary.

As he turned away, Ivy glanced around and noted it might have been drier in that particular part of the forest, but it was definitely a lot more open to high wind
s.  She brushed aside the hair blowing across her face and followed Sam to a huge tree where he tied her arms around the bark as if she were hugging it.  Her fingertips barely touched.

“Not going to take any chances with you escaping while I sleep.”

“Ye intend for me to sleep out here?  Like this?”

His eyes briefly looked at her before continuing his task of securing her hands on the opposite side of the tree.  “Looks like we’re a little short on beds.”

She ignored his sarcasm.  “I thought y’were some kind of wildlife expert.  Why don’t ye be building us a shelter or something?”

“Sorry, I’m not staking roots.  The sooner we get to Fort William, the better.”

“But I’ll freeze to death out here.”

Giving the rope a final tug, he shot her a steely look.  “Less of a burden on me then I reckon.”

She felt herself go cold all over.  The fact he cared less whether she lived or died, bothered Ivy more than she minded.  He certainly wouldn’t be the first.

She watched as he got himself comfortable against a tree.  They exchanged no other words.  Apparently, Sam enjoyed her company as much as she enjoyed his.  As she s
tood there and watched as he finally drifted off to sleep, she wondered if there would ever be someone who entered her life and care for her the way she needed.  Even before she had a chance to fully complete the thought, she knew the answer.

The remainder of her life would be spent being punished for what she had done.  It was what she deserved.  Her mother had once told her
, every person set their own course in life.  Once set, could never be altered.

Another wind swept past her, sending a chill
to sweep over her.  Her eyes strayed to peak at her captor who was fast asleep.  He was burrowed down into the warmth of his lined oilskin jacket, his cowboy hat pulled down to protect his face.  She envied him at that moment.  What she wouldn’t give for warmth and sleep.

However, she knew there would be neither for her.  Her cloak barely provided any protection from the
northern climate.  And the fact was she would not sleep.  She could not, would not, trust this stranger.  This man.

Even with him sleeping, she couldn’t be certain he would not wake and need to relieve some sadistic male urge on her.  Ivy had witnessed it far too many times.

The night became cooler until it was downright unbearable.  She shivered violently against the tree several times, not even able to rub herself warm.  Her limbs grew numb.  Her mind began to drift.  Not to sleep, but rather in hallucinations.  Many times, she thought she heard something in the woods.  Or saw a dark shadow flicker between the trees.  Images of a bear leaping out and devouring her alive nearly had her calling out his name.  Then reality would kick in momentarily.

The smell of spruce and pine swayed back and forth in the cold night.  A small lull in the wind came over the hilltop, causing an unexpected silence to fill the forest.  It was too far into autumn for much small life to wander through the woods in the cold of night.

Her eyes grew heavy and she found herself forcing them open far too often.  When at last she felt something on her cheek, she literally had to use every muscle in her neck to turn and look.  The first warm glow of the morning sun stroked her face.  Dawn had arrived.  The night’s darkness finally lifted. Sam stirred, before waking rather quickly.

His hazel eyes stared at her across the small clearing separat
ing them.  He was frowning hard about something, then turned abruptly to watch the rising sun, his hand raking his fingers under his hat and through his stringy hair.

Getting up, he dug into his satchel bag, removed something
, and then headed to Ivy.  When he held out a single red apple, she stared at it as if it was Eve offering the poisonous fruit.  If he thought offering her food and water would soften Ivy, he was horribly wrong.  With a turn of her head, she rejected it.

He sighed.  “You’re going to have to eat and drink sometime.”

She made no comment.

“Suit yourself,” he turned away and bit into the apple.  “But it’s still another three day hike before we reach Fort William.”

There was no way Ivy would make it.  Her leg was throbbing painfully, exhaustion was threatening to knock her off her feet, and she was literally freezing.  And hungry.  But in no uncertain terms would she take the offerings he provided.  She would rather die first.

Fifteen minutes later they were back on their way.  The bush was thick and barely room for walking.  Bare branches lashed out at Ivy.  They scraped and clawed and she had to fight with what little energy she had to force her way through the unrelenting forest.  Up ahead, Sam seemed oblivious to the branches, easily brushing them aside and moving forward.

A few times, Ivy panicked slightly when her vision blurred.  As predicted, she had not slept a wink last night.  Fear of the forest, the man, and the unknown, toyed with her all night long.  However, she was paying the price that morning.  Her head throbbed horribly.  It was the last thing she needed in addition to her other ailments.

Her first stumble brought
scarcely the smallest acknowledgment from her captor.  He simply waited as she wobbled back up on to her feet.  Her legs were proving to be useless.  She worked hard to force them forward; keep them moving, but they refused and she found herself falling to the earth one more time, her face hitting a tree painfully on her way down.

She lay on the earth for several minutes, listening to her own heavy breathing.  Her cheek throbbed from the hit she took, but it seemed minor.  It occurred to her suddenly that if he thought her dead, he might leave her there for the wildlife to gorge on.  Fear flooded her b
eing.  Never in all her years had she ever given up.  But lying there, far too weak to move, let alone fight back, she stared blankly at the brown earth before her, and knew the end was near.  And there was nothing, absolutely nothing, she could do about it.