“Thank you, but no. However, I may take you up on your offer of recommendation.” The warmth she felt inside didn’t last long when she felt Sam’s hands drop away.
“Of course, I understand.” Glancing toward Sam he held out his hand. “I thank you sir for bringing my son’s rightful murderer to light.”
Sam accepted the hand and gave a single nod. “Believe me. It was entirely my pleasure.”
“Mrs. Taylor,” he addressed Stella next. “I cannot voice enough my disappointment and disgust at your behavior. Though as a parent, there is a level of understanding to your deed. However, rest assured, I cannot condone your behavior or forgive it.” Glancing at Becky, he said. “May God have mercy on your soul.”
Stella lowered her eyes in shame as he left the room. The marshal turned towards Becky and pulled her arms behind her back before he locked a set of cuffs over her wrists. “Ma’am, you have the right to remain silent...”
Becky’s watery gaze fixed on her mother. “I’m sorry, Momma.”
“Me too, baby.”
The second deputy took hold of Stella’s arm and led her out of the house. Before he did, she lifted her head and gave Ivy a look of such sorrow and regret. Ivy’s heart constricted as she watched her leave. No matter how wrong her actions, she could not help but pity the woman.
Roy approached Sam and Ivy. “I guess I owe you two an apology.”
“No need,” Sam said. “I would have done the exact same thing if the situation was reversed.”
“I know you would.” Roy gave him a pat on the shoulder before turning his attention to Ivy. “You’re a free woman, Ms. McGregor. Good luck.”
“Thank ye.”
His brow arched. “It isn’t me you should be thanking. Sam never gave up on you.”
Ivy’s gaze dropped to the floor at the sad recollection that Sam had, in fact, turned against her. As she listened to Sam and Roy exchange words, she slipped away from Sam and went to stand by the window. Her heart filled with sadness once more as she watched Stella and Becky being escorted into the wagon.
She lifted one hand and gingerly rubbed her fingertips over her chest where her heart hurt beneath. Never again. It had been a hard and almost deadly lesson, but one she would not forget.
Never again would she foolishly allow herself the mistake of handing someone her trust. Or her heart.
Chapter 16
“I apologize for not believing you, Sam,” Roy said. “I suppose I should have trusted you and not judged so quickly. But when I heard the two of you were missing, I saw Daphne all over again.”
Sam vaguely nodded, his attention fixed on Ivy as she stood silhouetted against the window. He had felt her withdraw from him both physically and emotionally. “There has been a lot of that going around.”
“What’s that?” Roy frowned, not following Sam’s meaning.
Sam paused and for some reason the Indian’s words came into mind. “Wildfires.”
“Excuse me?”
“Now I know what he meant.” He shook his head and tore his eyes from Ivy to look at Roy. “Don’t judge other’s by the bad deeds of one.”
“What’s that got to do with wildfires?”
Sam grinned. “Nothing.”
Roy returned his grin and slapped him on the shoulder once more. “You’re getting odder the older you get.”
“Who you calling old?” He shot a glance at the gray hair that had long overtaken his beard.
Lifting his hand, he absently rubbed it and shook his head. “Maybe I am getting too old. Should think about retiring. Would if I thought there was a worthy replacement. Ever thought about taking up the post?”
Sam’s brow shot up. “I’m honored, but you know damn well I’m not ready for that type of commitment.”
Roy shot a look over at Ivy. “You sure?”
Sam followed his gaze and felt a wave of hopelessness fill his chest. “Yeah.”
“So what are you going to do now?”
“The usual. Probably head back to Oklahoma, scout out the next bounty.”
Roy gave him a little surprised look. “I would have thought you might have decided to make Chicago your home base.”
“The city isn’t for me.” Sam cringed inwardly merely from the thought.
“Never figured ya for a city boy,” Roy nodded in understanding. “But things change.”
Sam didn’t respond. He knew Roy was still referring to Ivy. There were some things that could never change.
“I’m going to be sticking around for the court trial to give my testimony, and probably afterwards as well.” Roy glanced over at Ivy before he told Sam, “I suppose this means I still owe you?”
Sam gave a small smirk before an idea struck him. “Actually, I think I’ll take you up on that debt now.”
“Oh? What are you thinking?”
Sam gave Ivy a long look before he said, “You wouldn’t by any chance have any contacts in Ireland?”
* * *
A little over a week later, Ivy stood at the window in the room she rented in the core of downtown Chicago. She looked over the smoky rooftops toward the prison. From her view, it was not visible. But she knew the activity surrounding it that morning. Becky’s execution was scheduled for noon.
Retrieving her woolen cloak from her bedside, something fell out of one of the pockets. Orville Hendrickson’s check. She picked it up and looked at the amount again. Much larger than she had anticipated. She hadn’t wanted to accept it, but in the end, she took it because she had no other means of income until she received work. There was one other reason she needed it as well.
She placed it on her night table and slid her gaze to the letter of recommendation lying next to it. She was certain finding another domestic position in a private home would come easily. Ivy just wasn’t sure that was what she wanted to do.
Beneath it lay the day before’s newspaper. Becky Taylor’s face was splashed all over it. Thankfully, Ivy’s name was mentioned only a few times in the article. A small oval inset to the side of the editorial, was a picture of Stella. Even now she couldn’t help but feel sadness. She knew only too well how it felt to lose your only living family member.
A knock at the door brought her head around, the sorrow in her heart only momentarily dampened. It would be Sam. He was returning to Oklahoma and had said he would come and see her before he left. She had seen little of him over the past week. He stuck around for the court hearing and her subsequent acquittal, but otherwise made himself scarce.
Though she was glad he had, she didn’t know what to think of that. Perhaps it was an idiotic wish that she had hoped he would have pursued her after this was all over. Not that she would have relented. She wasn’t given a second chance at life only to risk it once more on a person she wasn’t entirely certain she could trust.
Drawing in a deep breath she made her way slowly across the room and wished he had just left without saying goodbye. The next few minutes would be the most difficult of her life.
He was staring at the ground when she opened the door. His cowboy hat clutched between his hands, enabling her to see his clean-shaven face and freshly shampooed hair.
When he raised those clear hazel eyes to look at her, Ivy had to swallow a sudden lump in her throat. No matter how hard she prepared herself, the emotion she saw in them nearly had her falling at his feet, begging him to stay.
At first neither spoke. They simply stood gazing into each other’s eyes before Sam finally cleared his throat and shoved a hand through his unruly blond locks.
“You going out?” he asked with a gesture toward the cloak she wore over her gray outfit.
She nodded. “The prison.”
His brows arched. “You going to watch them hang Becky?”
“I’m going for moral support. Stella will be needing it.”
“She don’t deserve it,” he stated flatly. Though really needn’t have because she could see it in his face.
“Still.” She gave a careless shrug,
trying to appear as if this final meeting was not upsetting her so terribly.
“Mighty forgiving of you.”
“I suppose we all should start somewhere.”
He frowned at her, his hazel gaze holding hers until he exhaled heavily and looked uncomfortably around him. “We can walk a ways together.”
She hesitated. No it was not a good idea to prolong this parting, but the temptation to hold on to what little memory she had of him was too strong. “I suppose. We’ve walked further.”
He chuckled. “That we did.”
He led her down the flight of stairs from her room to the street below. The walkway was full of pedestrians heading in both directions. They were jostled slightly and momentarily separated. When they were reunited, she looked at him and asked, “What time does yer train leave?”
“Noon.”
Same time as the hanging.
“Are—” she broke off and tried again, clearing her throat. “Aren’t ye running late then? Ye only have ten minutes.”
“Trains are notorious for being twenty minutes late.”
She nodded and turned away from his grin. It had a bad habit of making her insides melt. Ivy needed to remain focused. Strong.
“Look, Ivy—”
Coming to a complete halt, she ignored the fact they stood in people’s path. Holding up a hand, she said, “Please, let me go first.”
His brows dipped, but he nodded nevertheless. “Okay.”
“I wanted to thank ye for everything ye did.” She dropped her chin and stared at his boots. “I shall be eternally grateful.”
There was a long pause causing Ivy to fidget with the lapels of her cloak. She wished he would say something. Instead he reached out and lifted her chin.
“Come with me.”
“What?”
“Come with me to Oklahoma.”
“What? I mean, why? I couldn’t possibly—”
”Why not?”
She felt her heart give a painful kick to her chest. He was gazing down at her with eyes that could have been woven from pure gold.
“I can’t, Sam.”
Even to her own ears her voice sounded so full of woe it didn’t surprise her in the least when the light in his eyes was doused. Dropping his hand, he stepped away. “You still don’t trust me.”
“I want to,” she pleaded. “I do. But it ain’t that easy.”
“It can be, if you just try. You said it was time to start forgiving. When will you forgive me?”
“Oh, I do forgive ye, Sam” she told him in earnest while reaching for his hand. “Ye saved me life. No one else believed in me.”
“Then why can’t you believe I’ll never hurt you again?” His eyes turned dark as he seized her hand. “Goddammit, Ivy. I’d never hurt you again. You might as well cut out my heart and feed it to the wolves before I’ll ever harm another hair on your body.”
Oh God, his words cut her to the core more than she cared. He made it so difficult for her to do the right thing. With determination, she tugged her hand free and hid it beneath her cloak. “Perhaps not intentionally.”
“I can’t promise you I won’t make more mistakes. But I can promise I’ll do everything in my power to do right by you.”
“Don’t do this, Sam.”
“Do what? Beg you to give me another chance?”
She shook her head, fearful that if she spoke, it would release the tears she fought so hard to hold back.
He grabbed her shoulders and demanded, “Then tell me.”
“They are only words,” she spat out, her bottom lip unable to stop from trembling. “I can’t risk it. I won’t. It hurt too much.”
A heavy pause followed her words before he released her. Shoving his hands into his denims, he turned away. Ivy watched his back go rigid and knew she hurt him. That had not been her intention. She only wanted to protect her fragile heart.
“What will you do?” he asked flatly. “Find work as a maid again?”
“I’m not certain. I’m considering returning to Ireland with the funds Mr. Hendrickson paid me.”
“Ireland, huh?”
She could actually hear the hurt in his voice. The very idea that so much land and water would separate them killed her as well. “It was just a thought. Won’t be another time when I’ll have enough funds to do so. I need to close that particular chapter in me life.”
He started walking and she fell into step. They headed down the crowded street to the junction where they would separate. Neither said a word. When they reached the corner, Sam stopped and slid his hand inside his coat pocket and retrieved a single sheet of paper folded three times width wise. “Maybe this will help with your decision.”
Curious, she unfolded it to reveal a letter with the Royal Irish Constabulary logo at the top. “What is it?”
“Read it.”
Scanning over the letter quickly, she caught sight of Roy Emerson’s name. Seeing as it did not belong to either of them, she was about to hand it back when another name caught her attention. The Earl of Wittfield.
Just the sight of his name, had her hand shaking as if the paper burned her fingers. “What is this?”
Sam took the letter from her again, apparently having noticed the telling rise of her voice. “I had Roy wire the RIC and do some digging in regards to the disappearance of your sister.”
“Why?”
“For starters, I wanted the Earl and his son investigated. I wanted to see them revealed for what they were. Animals.” He glanced down at the paper. “Unfortunately, I was too late. The Earl passed away six years ago.”
Instead of finding comfort in his words, she felt tears pool in the back of her eyes. “I wanted to confront him. Demand he tell me whatever happened to Moira.”
Sam held her gaze and Ivy felt an uncomfortable sensation in the pit of her stomach. So much pity filled his hazel eyes. She watched with sickening dread as he opened his mouth to speak. “A complaint was filed on your behalf. It took some doing, but they finally managed to secure a search of the entire property.”
She swallowed the growing lump in her throat and caught her bottom lip between her teeth. When that did nothing to control its trembling, she bit down hard and waited for Sam’s next words.
“They discovered two bodies buried beneath the floor of the wine cellar.” He waited an entire heartbeat before he said, “One of a woman, the second an infant.”
“Oh God.”
“I’m sorry, Ivy,” he moved as if to take her into his arms, but she immediately backed away.
“I’m all right,” she said, covering her mouth, knowing full well she didn’t sound all right. “It was for certain her?”
He nodded. “Some of the older staff members, who had been around when you and your sister lived on the premises, finally relented and confessed the crime after being interrogated for several hours. The present Earl, I believe the son you mentioned, was arrested.”
Ivy was grateful for that. She would have preferred the Earl not to have gone to the grave without facing his crimes, but at least his son would not have the same luxury.
“How did it happen?”
Sam handed the letter back to her and said, “Shortly after giving birth, she became ill from an unidentified complication. The nurse on staff testified she had never dealt with her particular symptoms and was unable to help your sister. She died in her bedroom, three nights later.”
“And the infant?”
Sam paused, as if debating whether to tell her or not. When she looked up, he sighed and told her, “Apparently, the Earl was furious your sister had become pregnant with his child. After her death, he had the child disposed of. It was suffocated.”
A tear fell from each of Ivy’s eyes.
“The Earl’s son testified his father had been feeding Moira poison in hopes that she would miscarry the child. We believe it was the effects of the poison which ultimately killed your sister.”
She nodded, though it felt limp.
S
am went to reach for her, then caught himself short and drew his hands back. “Ivy, try and take comfort in the knowledge that they were buried together.”
A humorless chuckle escaped her lips. The only comfort Ivy received was knowing the Earl was dead. She could only hope it had been a painful death.
Lifting a hand, she swiped at the tears and found Sam watching her closely. There was concern in his expression.
“I had hoped that she had somehow survived as I had, but in my heart I’ve always known she was gone.”
He drew in a breath and would have said something, but the sound of a distant train whistle interrupted him.
Glancing in the train station’s direction, she impressed herself when she was able to produce a wobbly grin. “It looks like it’s on schedule today.”
When she looked back at him, there was so much sorrow in his eyes, she had to fight the urge to bury herself against his chest. The level of despair in his gaze had her wondering if it was for her and Moira, or for her and Sam.
She swallowed the painful lump in her throat. “Again, thank ye. This means a lot to me.”
“You’re welcome. I’m glad we were able to put some closure on this for you.”
She hated the way he said we. It sounded entirely too much as one.
“Goodbye.” With all her effort, she forced her hand out and offered it to him.
He stared at it, but did not take hold of it. When several seconds past, Ivy said, “Y-ye’re going to miss yer train.”
But still he did not move.
“Sam. . .” she whispered his name, unable to look him in the eye.
“Are you still going to Ireland?”
Her eyes fell to the formal letter still clutched in the opposite hand. Her eyes automatically sought out Moira’s name. None was found. The only mention of her was in reference to the bodies being positively identified. “No.”
“Ivy,” he muttered in anguish, and then leaned slightly forward to whisper. “Come with me. Please.”
The Color of Ivy Page 24
