The Color of Ivy

by Peggy Ann Craig

  “Where do you go?”

  “Fort William. We were on the train that derailed.”

  The Indian seemed to absorb this bit of information. Finally, he got to his feet and Sam followed suit. The Indian turned and nodded to Ivy before heading for his horse. Sam watched the shaman and felt a pang of remorse. He did not agree with murder. But murdering and killing were two different things. Hell, Sam had killed enough men in his own time. But they had all been well deserved. Even if there was a plausible reason, murdering was the lowest form of man. Still, he found himself saying, “Hold up.”

  The Indian turned and waited as Sam went to his saddlebag and retrieved the bag of rice he had bought at the shop. Holding it out to the Indian, he said, “In exchange for the pelt.”

  The Indian hesitated before offering a single nod and taking the bag. Glancing back toward the camp, he eyed Ivy, her copper curls ablaze from the light of the fire. Returning his gaze to Sam, he warned, “It does the white man well to forget not the danger of misjudging the power of wildfire.”

  Then he left as quietly as he had come.

  Chapter 11

  When he was gone, Sam released a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. Not that one single Indian was any threat. But in his experience, they rarely rode alone. He didn’t doubt somewhere in the darkness, others waited.

  “Is he gone?” Ivy asked behind him. He turned and looked over at her sitting in the glow of the fire, her bright strawberry blond locks looking very much at one with the flames.

  For some reason, the Indian’s parting words unsettled him more than he cared. Their prophecies had always held a place of respect with Sam. Then giving the thought a shove, he dropped down on the opposite side. “For now.”

  “For now? Y’mean he may be returning?”

  He shrugged, trying to appear unconcerned. “I have something he wants.”

  Her eyes grew round. “I knew ye shouldn’t have been offering him food.”

  Sam scowled at her. “He isn’t an animal. Just because we feed him doesn’t mean he’ll keep coming back. There’s a good chance he simply wanted to check us out. See what type of threat we proved.”

  “But y’says ye have something he wants.”

  Sam caught her gaze. “I wasn’t exactly referring to the food.”

  It took a moment before the realization of his words sank in. When they did her eyes rounded even more as she pulled his coat closer.

  “Don’t worry. We only have a day left to get through this. If we’re very cautious, we’ll manage just fine.”

  But she didn’t look convinced.

  “For tonight, let’s be grateful for this,” he said, snatching up the pelt. “We’ll definitely be needing it. The native foretold snow.”

  Startled, she reached out and grabbed the pelt after he tossed it at her. “How do ye know how to speak the Indian’s language?”

  “I spent some time living with a tribe,” he told her and when one of her brows arched in surprise, he said, “It was when I was young and inexperienced. Was trailing a mountain man up into the Montana mountains, but got myself cornered in a quarry. Took a bullet to the chest. Must’ve just missed my heart ‘cause I didn’t die right off. Thought that was it for me though until two Indian women out scavenging for herbs, found me and dragged me back to their camp. They fixed me up good with their mix of herbs. I was allowed to live amongst them until I healed. Guess you could say I have a good ear for language. Didn’t take me long before I picked up what they were saying.” He added another stick to the fire and watched the small cascade of sparks. “Because of their medicine and care, I was able to live. I took an interest in understanding how they lived and became familiar with their techniques.”

  “Ye nearly died?” The crack in her voice had his head coming up to look across at her. Even in the shadows dancing across her features, he could see something lurking beneath her eyes. His thoughts went back to their earlier conversation. An unexpected tightening in his chest had his fists curling inward at what that man had done to Ivy. Yet, she was sitting in front of him now.

  In that split second, he allowed himself to acknowledge his admiration for this woman. It wasn’t every day a person went through as much ordeal even for a short interval, as she had done on a regular basis.

  He relaxed his fists. “Haven’t we all?”

  When she said nothing, he sighed and got to his feet. “It’s getting late. We better get some sleep.”

  * * *

  He decided because of the bitter cold, it was best they sleep together. They would need each other’s body warmth to get through the freezing temperatures. He was, however, grateful for the fur pelt. It provided an extra layer of warmth they greatly needed. The wind had begun to pick up and the first flakes of snow had drifted down to the ground.

  Sam gave their surroundings one last look before reaching out and covering their heads entirely with the pelt. Sheltered beneath, the cold wind howled above them. Beneath the pelt, the wool blanket felt raw against his cheek, but at least they were warm. He tucked his revolver close to his head where it was within easy reach if needed. The Indian knew they were travelling alone. Though he appeared cordial tonight, Sam was still on his guard. He wouldn’t lose sight of the fact he had butchered a man in cold blood.

  Next to him, Ivy gave a small shudder. Likely shaking the last of the chill from her bones. He wanted to reach out and pull her close. Hold her until the cold subsided. Being this close, however, was dangerous. He knew it. She knew it. But they had no other choice. He hadn’t wanted to spend the time building a temporary shelter. Time that could have been used on the road instead.

  Tomorrow.

  It would all finally be over for Sam. No other assignment had ever caused him so much ache. Not even Daphne Sweeney. He had never come close to feeling anything remotely similar to how he realized he was beginning to feel for Ivy.

  But he had to stomp out those feelings. She killed a man. If he had to repeat those words over and over until they were drilled into his head he would. But it wasn’t his head that needed the reminder. He feared it was his heart. And for Sam, that was much more frightening.

  He had been on the receiving end of love only once before. And it had nearly cost him his life. No matter how soft he was becoming toward Ivy McGregor, he had to shield his heart. A man didn’t barely miss the clutches of death only to taunt it once again.

  * * *

  He lay next to her, their bodies touching, yet not touching. It took all his will-power to keep his hands from stroking her soft body. To feel the silk of her hair between his fingers. He closed his eyes and forced the images out of his mind. It was already going to be a long night. He knew he wouldn’t be sleeping a wink with the threat of danger nearby. Thoughts of Ivy naked would not help the long hours pass.

  Beside him, she moaned. Her breathing had indicated she had eventually fallen asleep. For that he was glad. At least there, she was at peace. A red hot rage filled him when he thought of what that man had done to her and her sister. If he were still alive, he would ensure the man pay for his crimes. Watch him with satisfaction be taken down from his throne.

  Instinctively, he clutched her close, hauling her against his heart. He could feel the vibrations of his pulse against her back. It reminded him he was alive. Years of living an empty shell of a life, had left him as cold and lifeless as the corpses he buried six feet under. He and Ivy were quite the pair, he reckoned. It was almost like looking in a mirror. And what he saw made him frown.

  She had told him she thought her prayers had gone unanswered. That He had long forgotten her. Sam figured he must have felt the same way over the years. He hadn’t been living. Not really. His life had been void of something he didn’t even realize was missing.

  Ivy muttered something and turned in his embrace, burrowing closer into his chest. Sam drew her closer. Perhaps Ivy was wrong. Just maybe her prayers had been answered after all. No matter what happened after tomorrow, he would never regr
et having met Ivy McGregor. She would stay in his thoughts and memories forever. He just had to ensure she stayed out of his heart.

  When the sun slowly rose above the eastern horizon, Sam lifted the pelt off their heads and took a cautious look around; making sure no unwelcome visitors had snuck up on them while they slept. Being either the human or non-human kind.

  What greeted him was a world of white. It had snowed all night long. There was a good two inches of snow covering the ground. Admittedly, it was beautiful. Reminding him of a time as a child it had snowed that one time in Oklahoma. It had been so rare and so serene.

  With the coast clear, he pulled the cloak away from Ivy’s head and looked down into her face. It truly was a miracle how she had become more beautiful over the last few days. Though he knew she resented the label. And from what she told him, he could see why. How he would have enjoyed teaching her to embrace her natural good looks.

  The smile faded from his face. His time with Ivy was quickly coming to an end. It was best he tried to remember that.

  She groaned softly as she gently woke from her slumber. Sam thought he had never seen a more angelic way of waking up. Her back arched and she allowed a syrupy moan to escape her throat and a tiny smile to play upon her lips. Was she dreaming? Foolishly, he hoped it was about him.

  “Mornin’.”

  Her eyes fluttered open. The bright morning sky reflected in the color of her eyes, took his breath away. He couldn’t recall ever seeing any as beautiful.

  “Good morning.”

  Sam would have loved to lay there a while longer. Simply gazing into her face. But already, the chilly autumn temperatures were penetrating his clothes and he knew he had to get up and rekindle the fire which had dwindled severely from the high winds.

  “Stay put.” He wrapped their coverings more securely around her. “Keep warm while I get the fire restarted.”

  “Won’t ye be cold?”

  “I’ll be fine,” he said, though the bitter wind nearly had him biting his own words. Hell, it was cold. The coldest day yet. He would have to work quickly. As soon as he was done, he just might crawl back in there with her.

  Moving swiftly, he used the pile of kindling he had collected the night before into a tepee position over the now snow-covered coals in the fire pit. Because the wind was blowing straight into their little cocooned shelter, he had to cup his hands around the fire to ensure it wouldn’t blow out.

  Though it took longer than usual, he watched with satisfaction as the first major flame took life. Once he was sure it wasn’t going to go out, he turned and pulled out some cans of food from the saddlebag to heat over the fire. They would feel nice and warm going down on such a cold morning. Checking the canteen, he discovered the last bit of remaining water had frozen overnight.

  He didn’t really want to head down to the creek. He would prefer crawling back under the coverings next to Ivy’s warm body. But knowing that was treading on dangerous ground, he grabbed the canteen and told her, “I won’t be gone long. We’re all out of water.”

  When she simply looked up at him without saying anything, he stopped and fixed her with a gaze. “Don’t attempt anything foolish. It’s not safe out there.”

  She looked away, but offered the smallest nod. He nearly choked on his surprise. The fact that he knew he could trust her, startled him even more. Since their trek through the Canadian wilderness begun, Ivy had not lied once to him. To his confusion, he wasn’t left with a feeling of triumph as he would have suspected. Instead, he felt unusually troubled.

  * * *

  Ivy shivered and drew the wool blanket closer. The air was so cold she could feel the hair in her nostrils. She turned and looked around their small camp. Snow covered every inch. Tilting her head, she looked up at the bare branches now covered in the white fluffy stuff. The wind had subsided and everything laid still and quiet. Peaceful.

  It was almost beautiful if it weren’t so terribly cold. She shivered again and burrowed deeper into the coverings. The fur on the pelt from the Indian tickled the underside of her nose. She frowned recalling the night before and Sam’s warning. Knowing the Indian was out there, possibly stalking them caused a new wave of goose bumps to sweep over her flesh. If they had killed those people in the village so easily, she could only imagine what they would do with her.

  From the path to the creek, Sam emerged. Ivy sighed with relief, and then caught herself. She had to stop doing that. It was becoming increasingly difficult to remember he was delivering her to her death.

  “We better get moving. There’s fresh paw prints in the snow down by the river.”

  Instantly, she sat up. “What kind?”

  “The big kind.” He gathered up the wraps they had slept in and began rolling the blanket. “Use the pelt to cover up. That cloak won’t keep you warm any longer.”

  As if it ever did, she thought, grateful for the pelt’s warmth even though it somehow felt tainted. If the Indian thought he could trade it for Ivy, he was sadly mistaken.

  She slowly got to her feet, testing her ankle’s strength. Sam had packed up what little gear they had and turned to watch her. “Do you need help mounting?”

  He stood about five feet from her, holding his arms close to his side as if he detested the idea of touching her. Ivy couldn’t help but feel the same. Her night spent in the comfort and warmth of his arms had been more dangerous than the wildlife from which they ran. There she was under the false illusion that all her fears would vanish.

  “I can manage.”

  To her surprise, he chose to walk next to the horse instead of riding on its back behind her as he had done yesterday. Obviously, wishing to make contact with her less than she realized. She hated the fact this thought caused her pain. Most of her life, society had spurned her. This man would be no different. Only with this man did the rejection leave an uncomfortable sting.

  They trudged through the snow-covered wilderness in silence for a long while. The air they inhaled was wintery cold. Before her, she could see a frosty breath emitting from the horse’s nostrils. Her own softly billowing in front of her face. On the ground, she watched Sam lead the horse through the dense forest. His face turning slightly pink from the cold.

  Having chosen to walk rather than ride with her, he was prolonging their arrival in the city. Though Ivy was cold, dirty and injured, she had no wish to reach that particular destination.

  By mid-morning their path came to an abrupt decline. Sam halted and looked down. Ivy followed his gaze. Her eyes fell upon railroad tracks. They had chosen not to follow the tracks out of the village as they wound too close to the lake’s coastline. The granite earth edging the great lake jutted in sharp and cutting peaks, making maneuvering impossible. Instead, they followed the river which headed in a westerly direction until it eventually met up with the tracks once again.

  He looked up and their gaze collided. Immediately he looked away. “Not much further now.”

  She made no reply.

  “Best stop and give the horse a rest.” He glanced at her and looked uncomfortable. “You need help down?”

  “No.” To prove she didn’t, she swung her leg over and slid her body down along the horse’s side until she touched the earth beneath.

  Sam took the animal and tied it to a nearby tree, then turned back to Ivy. Tugging on his hat, he pulled the brim down low and shielded his eyes from her view.

  “Wrists.”

  He thought she would run. Truth was, she probably would. Reluctantly, she held out her hands. To her surprise, he did not take them. He simply stood there staring down at the red marks left by his bindings. He made no sound. Even his breathing fell silent. She wished she could see his face, but it remained hidden beneath his hat.

  At last he spoke. So quietly, however, his words were nearly lost upon the wind. “They’re goin’ to hang you, Ivy.”

  She blinked and swallowed the sudden painful lump in her throat, but continued to hold out her wrists. “I know.”


  He lifted his chin then, and pinned her with a hard stare. “Tell me what happened. Talk to me. Hell, I’m even willing to believe it was an accident.”

  She watched the emotion on his face grow hard as he studied her closely, certain that whatever thoughts were behind those eyes of his were dark. “Was it an accident?”

  Ivy paused for only half a beat, then slowly shook her head.

  “Dammit!” he bellowed and spun away from her, ripping off his hat and dragging an angry hand through his hair.

  She flinched instinctively from his outburst and took a step back.

  “What the hell happened that night?” He whirled back around, glaring and advancing on her. “Tell me, goddammit!”

  Ivy moved quickly backwards, away from his anger, but with her lame ankle, nearly tripped over her own feet. He reached for her and seized her shoulders in a fierce grip.

  “Don’t touch me!”

  “How could you have done it?” His eyes flared red and Ivy recoiled immediately, trying desperately to escape his grip.

  “Let me go!”

  But he only squeezed tighter and gave her a violent shake. “Damn you, Ivy!”

  With a sudden thrust, he pulled her hard against his body. Fear shot to the tip of her throat. Memories of her sister being manhandled in the same manner, flooded back to mind. “Stop!”

  She pushed and squirmed angrily in his embrace, but his hold only tightened. “I hate the fact every time I look at you, you remind me of her.”

  “I’m not her! Now let me go!”

  But he did not appear to hear her words. His hands came up and seized her shoulders and shook her once again. “I hate when you look at me with those big innocent eyes, I want to believe you’re not guilty.”

  Unable to stop herself, her bottom lip began to tremble. She fought harder, anger and fear fuelling her efforts. Without warning his arms came around her thrashing body, forcing her roughly against him.

  “And most of all, I hate the fact you make my blood burn with hunger.”