The Color of Ivy

by Peggy Ann Craig

  “I’m done running.”

  “Jesus!” he swore, running his hand along the back of his neck.

  “Don’t ye understand, Sam? I’ve been fighting a losing battle all me life.”

  Grabbing the iron rails, he pushed his face toward her and growled, “The only thing I understand is that you’ve lied to me after all. You made me believe you were a woman fighting to be accepted, not allowing your past to dictate your future.”

  Pain, perhaps a mix of fear, knitted her forehead. “I can’t do it. I won’t always be looking behind me wondering when the next bounty hunter will track me down.”

  He sighed and placed the lantern on the floor next to her cell. “There won’t be another. Once we get you out of here, we’ll settle this once and for all. We’ll clear your name, Ivy, but we need time. Something the justice system isn’t so generous with.”

  “We?”

  “That’s right.” He noticed the look of doubt on her face. “What is it?”

  “I don’t know, Sam,” she whispered, doubt paling her face. “Ye turned against me when I needed ye most. I don’t know if I can go through that again.”

  “That’s not going to happen. Not again.”

  “But it did.”

  He fixed her with a hard stare. “It’s not.”

  When shadows of doubt still spewed from her eyes, he reached through the rails and grasped hold of her hands. “I’m here now, ain’t I?”

  He relaxed when he noticed her beginning to soften. “Aye.”

  “We’re quite the team, you and I. We made it this far.” He reached up and stroked the side of her face. “Don’t worry, sweetheart. We’ll get through this. Together.”

  “Oh Sam,” she whispered. “I want to believe that, I do. But I don’t want to get hurt again.”

  It killed him to hear how much pain he put her through. If it took the rest of his days, he would show Ivy that she could trust him again. “I won’t watch you swing, Ivy. I’d rather go to the gallows myself before I allow that to happen.”

  He saw her eyes sparkle with unshed tears. The urge to reach in and pull her close was strong, but he needed to remain focused. There was plenty of time for that later. For now, he had to get her out of there. Dropping her hands, he gestured toward her leg irons. “Get to work. I’ll be right back with the key.”

  “Sam,” she stopped him. “What about Roy?”

  “I’m sorry about that. He’s not a bad man. Really. He only wants to do what’s right. For the law and for me.”

  “Oh Sam, have ye truly thought about this? Ye’d become the one thing ye hate most in this world. An outlaw.”

  He looked up to see sorrow in her eyes. The fact that she was more concerned about him than her own hanging touched him greater than anything ever had before. Immediately, warmth filled his heart. He gave her a reassuring and genuine smile. “I’ve never been surer.”

  It took a few seconds, but then she finally returned a wobbly smile. As he turned to leave, he heard her whisper, “Be careful.”

  Sam hurried up the stairs and rattled the gate. “Hey! I’m done in here.”

  He heard the sound of a chair scraping on the wooden floor before the shadow of the officer came into sight. “About time. I was about to come and fetch you.”

  Sam looked down nonchalantly to the man’s gun hanging within easy reach from his waist. With patience he waited until the key turned in the lock and the officer was drawing the large iron door open. Then he made his move. Quick as lightening, he snatched the man’s gun the same moment he slammed his body with the iron gate, knocking the officer’s head against the stone wall behind him. Instantly, the man’s body crumbled to the floor where he lay unconscious.

  “Sam?” Ivy cried out in alarm from the cellar, obviously having heard the scuffle.

  “It’s all right. Keep at what you’re doing.” Leaning forward, he checked for a pulse on the officer’s neck, then hoisted him over his shoulder and made his way down the stairs. Before he did, he snatched up the large ring holding multiple keys the officer had dropped on the floor before being knocked out.

  Back at Ivy’s cell where she was undoing the last restraint, he chose a large black key and slipped into the cell door; he smiled with satisfaction at the sound of the lock clicking open. Giving her a wink and a grin, he said, “Not bad for first try.”

  Because his arms were full, she helped him slide the heavy door open. “What are ye going to do with him?”

  “Make less noise down here, I reckon’.” Moving over to the cot, he dropped the officer onto it then turned and grabbed Ivy’s hand before dragging her out of the cell. Locking the cell once more, he grabbed the lantern in one hand and Ivy in the other and headed for the stairs.

  They raced up the stairwell and down a corridor to an exit, which led to the side of the prison. At a slow crawl, they crept through the shadows of the deserted town, purposely keeping out of sight of any person who may happen to be wandering the streets at that hour.

  “Wait here.” He tucked her into a corner and went to fetch his horse. Keeping his eye on the lobby of the station, he quietly jumped up onto its back then rode back to Ivy. Reaching down, he grabbed her upper arm and hoisted her behind him, then headed away from the jail.

  From the satchel, he produced a huge overcoat similar to his own, but in a smaller size and passed it over his shoulder to Ivy who was trembling slightly from the early morning chill.

  “Put this on.” He felt her moving and acknowledged how wonderful it felt to feel her soft body pressed up against his own. “We best hurry. It won’t be long before they sound the alarm.”

  “Where are we going?”

  “We’re going to pay a visit to an old friend of yours.”

  “Sam, I’m not even certain Stella was involved with Mr. Hendrickson’s death.”

  As he turned them toward the shoreline of Lake Michigan, he said, “Fair enough. So let’s have it. No more secrets, Ivy. Tell me everything you know.”

  “I’m not sure if it’s even connected,” she whispered against his cheek, not wanting her voice to be heard, but in the process sent a little shiver of delight down his spine.

  “Let me be the judge of that.”

  “A few weeks before that night, Stella drew me aside. Apparently Mr. Hendrickson had taken his dissatisfaction with me to his mother.”

  “His dissatisfaction? You mean because you refused to sleep with him?”

  “Aye. You see, the staff falls under Stella’s charge. It was her duty to reprimand my behavior.” She paused. “Which she did.”

  “Let me get this straight. You were reprimanded for not sleeping with the boss’s son?”

  Ivy only nodded in reply.

  “Christ.” He couldn’t control the muttered curse. Even that was far tamer than how he was feeling inside. He had a good mind to reveal those folks for who they truly were.

  “I was informed that if I cared to keep me position, I’d heed to all of Mr. Hendrickson’s needs. All of his needs. She then threatened if I left and took me accusations with me, she’d deny all allegations and ensure I’d not find any decent position within the city.”

  Sam fisted his hands around the leather reins, the only part of him unable to hold back the rage boiling angrily inside. It shouldn’t be Ivy put on trial, it should have been those low-life scums.

  “I couldn’t believe me ears,” she said, then whispered, “I had trusted her.”

  As she had Sam. He felt a thousand times worse and knew no matter how long or how hard he tried, convincing her to trust him was more than impossible.

  “So that was why you stayed?”

  “Aye.” She nodded. “After I left the Earl’s residence back in Ireland, I spent many years struggling to survive. I got labor in the workhouse in London, but the conditions were dreadfully awful, so I pocketed me pennies until I earned enough to purchase a ticket to America. Life wasn’t much easier for me here, but at least I was safe. Then when I got work at the Hend
rickson’s, I truly thought me luck turned for the better. And it had.”

  “Until Phillip Hendrickson returned home?”

  She nodded. “I was too much of a coward and feared losing me position. The idea of going back out there frightened me. I suppose he must’ve seen me staying as consent, for his sexual endeavors only grew worse. That night, after he attacked me for the last time, I knew I couldn’t live like that anymore. So I ran.” She turned and looked at him over her shoulder. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about the incident with Stella. It was too humiliating.”

  “I suppose at the time you had no reason to think she may be involved in the murder.”

  “I still don’t. It makes no sense, Sam.”

  “We have a dress covered in blood found in her possession. Her daughter lies and frames you for the murder. I’d say that’s pretty damn good reason for you to suspect.”

  “Do ye think Becky witnessed the real killer that night?”

  “I don’t know. Possibly, but it’s all speculation at this point. That’s why we need to talk with them and discover the truth. Fact is, someone killed that man, even if well deserved. If someone is goin’ swing from a noose for it, we’re going to make damn sure it’s not you.”

  Sam followed Ivy’s direction to the Hendrickson’s east end home south of town. He knew they didn’t have much time. The alarm would go up and the first place they would come looking is the one place Sam needed to go.

  Following Ivy’s directions, he turned the horse south. They passed the courtyard of the jail house and both fell silent. Just on the opposite side, the gallows for her execution sat and awaited her. No matter what it took, Sam was going to ensure she never made that appointment. He propelled the horse away from the twenty-foot wall and down the street.

  A dampness hung in the air from a rainfall the previous day. Puddles lay scattered all over the road. The silence seemed loud as the horse’s hooves walked along the narrow streets. He kept a watchful eye on their surroundings, his senses on high alert.

  They crossed over the Chicago River, then proceeded to head south. The homes lining that part of the city were huge with elaborate architecture. To their left a large park lay on the shore of Lake Michigan. The first glistening of the morning dawn sparkled on the lake. Servants stirred and began their daily routines.

  When she at last pointed to a tall three-story red brick home, Sam let out a low whistle.

  “What did you say this fellow did?”

  “Orville Hendrickson is a financier who deals in the stock exchange.”

  “So probably has a house full of servants.” He surveyed the home and asked, “How many can I expect to run into?”

  “At this time of the morning only a few of the kitchen maids will be up preparing breakfast for the senior staff first. Stella won’t be joining them until later, as well as Mr. Hendrickson’s butler.”

  “Will one of those maids include Becky?”

  She nodded. “Aye, more than likely she will be in the kitchen cooking. The others will be in the scullery or off to light the fireplaces.”

  “Where is the scullery in location to the kitchen?”

  “Behind it. Why?”

  “I think it a good idea we draw as little attention to our presence as possible.”

  “Right.”

  “Is there a joining door?”

  She nodded. “But the servants’ hall is connected to the kitchen so we got into the habit of keeping it shut because of the strong odors caused by the garlic we hung over the hearth in spring to dry.”

  “Perfect.”

  Sam led the horse to the back of the house where the entrance to the kitchen was located. Finding a recluse spot, he drew the horse into the shadows and hitched him out of sight. As Ivy slid from the saddle, he reached up and grabbed her around the waist.

  Her light blue eyes raised and met his gaze. The urge to kiss her was overwhelming, but he had hurt her terribly. He didn’t know if she would ever allow him close again.

  “Let me go in alone,” he told her.

  “No way.”

  “Ivy, I need to go slow on this. Draw the truth out of Becky. If we frighten her, we may never get the truth.”

  “I’m coming.”

  He frowned down at her. Distrust still danced in her eyes, but there was something else. Pure obstinance. She needed to confront her accuser. Even if it meant it caused her doom. Hell, he didn’t need her being so proud at that moment. But he could understand it.

  Since he knew how effective tying her to a tree would be, he sighed and said, “Watch yourself. Don’t allow emotion to rule your head. It may get pretty heated.”

  “I won’t.”

  “All right then,” he took her hand and turned toward the door. “Let’s get this over with.”

  Chapter 15

  Ivy waited behind Sam. Not because she wanted to, but because he kept a hand splayed out across her stomach to prevent her from moving past him.

  The warmth which that hand provided was intoxicating. It felt as if it would pull her in further. It frightened Ivy to realize she wanted to be drawn in. Though she was grateful for Sam’s help now, no matter the outcome, she could never risk getting that close again.

  She turned her attention to the window. It glowed yellow indicating the kitchen staff were up and starting their morning routine as predicted. Someone walked by the window and she felt a jolt of excitement.

  “That’s Becky.”

  “Are you sure?”

  Even from that secluded spot and the darkness surrounding the home, she would have recognized the young woman easily. She had a practice of wearing her long blond locks in elaborate chignons on the top of her head rather than the nape as most maids did. Ivy had always thought the look impractical for scrubbing dishes. But it made her long neck and sculptured face more pronounced.

  She glanced at Sam. Was he noticing the young woman’s beauty? Would he compare her to Ivy’s very plain and homely looks? She pushed the thought aside, annoyed with herself for even thinking it. Never before had she ever worried about another woman’s looks over her own.

  “Aye.”

  He glanced back over his shoulder and their eyes met. “Are you sure you want to do this? I’m certain I’ll manage to get her story out of her on my own.”

  This made her frown, and for some reason thought of them up there in the Canadian wilderness, making love beneath the towering spruce trees. She had handed him her heart that day, and her trust. Would he try and use the same means to get Becky to talk?

  Her eyes looked into his deep hazel depths and felt suddenly foolish for even contemplating the idea. It was her damaged heart causing these heedless thoughts to run wild.

  She turned back to the window and watched as Becky scrubbed the cook top in preparation for the morning’s meal. The staff would eat their breakfast first. Shortly, the kitchen maid would no longer be alone and Ivy’s opportunity to confront her would be gone.

  “I’m coming.”

  He gave her an odd look. A mix between a smile and a frown. Then he crept silently across the stoned courtyard toward the back door. Ivy knew it would be locked, but knew where they always kept the key. While Sam waited in the shadows below the window, she slid her hand under the loose brick in the stairwell and retrieved it.

  Without question she handed it to him and watched in awe how swiftly he proceeded. Before she knew it, the kitchen door swung open and they were standing in the dimly lit room. Becky Taylor turned slightly, not seemingly surprised at their intrusion. However frowned when she realized Sam was not one of the staff members.

  When her glance shifted to Ivy, her large brown eyes widened in horror. “Ivy? What are you doing here?”

  “We need to talk to ye, Becky.”

  The young woman’s hand flew to her chest as if she was suddenly having a heart attack. “Aren’t you supposed to be in prison?”

  “We don’t have much time, Ms. Taylor,” Sam interrupted, not allowing Ivy to respond.


  The woman’s gaze swung back to him, her horror doubling tenfold. “Who are you?”

  “My name is Sam Michalski. I’m a friend of Ivy’s and helping to solve her case.”

  Becky’s mouth immediately snapped shut, her eyes darting across the room to the exit. Ivy felt that old familiar feeling of betrayal once more. What had she ever done to Becky?

  “I don’t believe Ivy murdered Phillip Hendrickson.”

  This time the gaze she jabbed him with was full of anger. “Are you calling me a liar?”

  “Yes.”

  Ivy glanced at Sam, startled by his blunt and harsh tone of voice. Her fears of him finding Becky more desirable vanished. He was looking at the woman with such loathing she actually feared he might strike her.

  “I’m not the one lying! Why would I need to lie?”

  “You saw something that night and for whatever reason, are too frightened to come forward with the truth.”

  “I told the authorities what I saw.” Her gaze shifted back to Ivy. “I saw Ivy strike Phillip with an iron poker.”

  “That’s not true,” Ivy gasped.

  Sam’s eyes narrowed. “Phillip?”

  She looked at him annoyingly as if he were half-witted. “Yes, the victim! You do remember him, don’t you? Or has she blind-sighted you with her innocent little act too.”

  Ivy watched the woman with disbelief. Innocent little act? Where was that coming from? She wanted to speak up and ask, but Sam was already addressing the maid. “I remember him. I was just surprised at your informal use of his name. Is it not improper for servants to address their employers by their Christian name?”

  She looked slightly uncomfortable. “Well, yes, in their presence absolutely. But we refer to them by first name down here in the kitchen all the time. Isn’t that right, Ivy?”

  Ivy frowned and shook her head. “I’ve always referred to him as Mr. Hendrickson. As did yer mother.” Though she had thought it odd Becky had often referred to their employer’s son by his first name.

  She gave Ivy a peeved expression before exhaling her breath loudly and declaring, “Well Phillip and I had a more relaxed relationship. It was not necessary for me to address him formally.”