The Color of Ivy

by Peggy Ann Craig

  She looked over at him. So much rage loomed just beneath the surface. She didn’t know why he felt so strongly about this murder. A part of her wondered if perhaps he knew Philip personally. Had made it his own mission to come out and track down his killer.

  All this was a mystery to Ivy. The only thing she knew for certain was with all that anger and rage, it didn’t matter what she said. Sam didn’t want to hear her side of the story.

  * * *

  Getting to sleep was difficult that night. Sam tossed and turned several times. Something was troubling him. No matter how much he hated to admit it, he knew their discussion was toying with his conscience. She refused to impart her reasons for murdering Philip Hendrickson. The only clue she gave was that jealousy had indeed been a factor in his death. Sam just wasn’t sure how.

  She had closed up and refused to talk for the remainder of the night, forcing him to simmer in his own rage. He hated to admit it, but he had wanted to think Ivy wasn’t like that. That she wasn’t capable of murder. But, like his mother, she had killed for her own personal reasons. For that, he could never understand. He could never forgive.

  Hell, why couldn’t she just tell him what happened? More importantly, why did he need to know? That, he knew, was what truly bothered him. He couldn’t separate himself from this crime.

  Needless of his rage and suspicion, he had not tied her up that night. Knowing what he had done to her with his last restraint, he couldn’t bring himself to it. If he was being sincerely honest, maybe there was a small part of him that wished she would escape. He was getting too close to this prisoner. Emotionally close.

  Eventually, overwhelmed with exhaustion, he drifted off to sleep. Though not for long. Something woke him. Prying open his exhausted eyes, he blinked in surprise to see Ivy looming above him. For some strange reason, he felt no panic. Instead, an unusual calm settled over him.

  “Ivy?”

  “Shh.” She placed a silencing finger over her lips and stared at him in the darkness.

  He stared back, a tiny frown tugging his brow low. Then she moved and straddled his body. Again, no fear entered him. Only need. Hell, he wanted her. The realization was staggering. More so due to the depth of how much he did.

  Her hands reached out and ran along his arms until she cupped his face. She was leaning so close, Sam could see the turmoil in her face. Could see the pain in her eyes. The urge to reach out and comfort was overwhelming. Lifting his hand, he touched the side of her face. Her eyes fluttered shut.

  Sliding that same hand behind her head, he gently drew her close. When her lips touched his, he thought he never tasted anything so perfect. She returned his kiss with an aching sweetness. Then, as if hungry, she delved deeper, kneading his lips like that of a starving woman. Sam responded with his own unadulterated yearning.

  His hands came up and wrapped around her, drawing her closer. But he felt her pull back. Felt her withdrawal.

  Sitting up, she stared down at him, a sad, almost pitiful look crossing her face. Then she offered him the merest smile. Its innocence tugging at him.

  Her arms fell back behind her and Sam gazed up at her in bewilderment, torn between pushing her away or drawing her near. Then a dark shadow crossed over her eyes, turning those frosty blues to a devilish green. Her sweet smile turned almost cunning-like as he realized she was lifting her arms over her head.

  “Ivy?”

  Too late, he saw the iron poker clutched between her hands. Watched as her eyes lit with green venom. He let out a horrified bellow the same moment the poker came crashing down on his skull.

  “No!” Sam jerked upright. His eyes flew open and he stared into blackness. The night was still.

  “Sam?” Ivy’s voice in the darkness drew his gaze to the area she slept. “What’s wrong?”

  It took him a moment to focus. He blinked rapidly several times. He’d been dreaming. Christ.

  Raising a hand, he ran it through his hair and along the back of his neck. It troubled him to realize it was shaking. Thank God for the darkness so that she was unable to see the revealing weakness. He steadied his breathing and glanced at her silhouetted form in the darkness. She had not visited him in his sleep. Nor had she tried to escape. This last thought was what had him coming back swiftly to consciousness. She had not left.

  Whether she realized it or not, Sam was slowly gaining her trust.

  “Nothing. Go back to sleep.”

  A hesitation filled with silence, then he heard her movement and knew she had lied back down on the cold earth. Not anywhere near Sam.

  * * *

  By mid-morning the following day, they had not covered nearly enough miles as Sam would have liked. He knew Ivy’s ankle was the cause. It was slowing them down. They would be spending another night out in the wilderness again if they didn’t reach a town soon.

  Behind him, she fell for the umpteenth time. He turned and watched her struggle to get back on her feet. He wanted to go to her, help her, but his dream still haunted him.

  He headed down an embankment and she followed. They had covered about fifty feet of ground when the forest unexpectedly produced a small cone-shaped structure. It was made out of eight vertical wooden poles and two large hoops keeping the frame secure near the top. Standing close to seven feet tall and about a meter or so in depth, it looked like an oversized bird cage.

  “What is it?” Ivy asked next to him.

  “A shaking tent.” He took a step closer. “It’s missing its rawhide, but it’s definitely one.”

  “What’s a shaking tent?”

  “It’s used by a shaman Indian when seeking power from the spiritual world.”

  “Indians?” The panic in her voice had him turning and looking down at her. She looked paler, almost gray and he knew her ankle was troubling her horribly. His insides constricted painfully. He hated admitting it to himself, but it tore at him to see her in so much pain. The sooner he found them a horse, the better.

  Her eyes and head darted around the forest as she wobbled to remain balanced on her good foot. “Indians are nearby?”

  “More than likely. Their reserve must be somewhere in the area if they’ve performed a shaking tent ceremony here recently.”

  “You said they seek power. To do what?”

  He shrugged. “Could have been that the shaman had a vision or dream, or someone’s lost something or someone valuable. The shaman will perform the ritual and request assistance from the spirits to guide him in the right direction.” Sam didn’t mention to Ivy that it was often used to help rid their enemies. He didn’t think it necessary to alarm her unduly. He hadn’t heard of any disputes in this area for decades.

  “Can we go now, please?”

  This time he focused on the terror in her eyes. “You have something against Indians?”

  “I’ve heard they’re savages. Unmerciful and barbaric.”

  Sam made a disbelieving face. “Isn’t that what you also heard about bounty hunters?”

  Her eyes flashed to his face, the fear in them momentarily doused. “They kill without mercy.”

  “If they kill, it’s because they have a reason. The white man has invaded their land and forced them to succumb to a lifestyle unfamiliar and unwanted. If you’ve got no qualms against them, they’ll leave you be. Most natives are peaceful and generous people. Just like any other man.”

  She frowned, but didn’t comment.

  “The good news is there should be a town nearby.”

  “Fort William?”

  He shook his head. “Won’t be a very large town, but hopefully they’ll have some horses we can rent.”

  They left the structure and pushed further through the bush until they reached a ridge overlooking a valley and a large body of water.

  Ivy’s eyes narrowed against the bright sun. Using a hand to shield her eyes, she gazed out at the aqua colored lake. “Is that Lake Superior?”

  “Nope. Nepigon Bay. If memory serves me right, there should be a river emptying i
nto it a couple miles ahead of us and a village just west of that.”

  Sam glanced up and noticed the sky turning dark. Storm. He cursed his bad luck and wondered if they would reach shelter before the sky opened up and drenched them with rain. He moved quicker than he knew Ivy could handle, but he didn’t need her freezing from hypothermia on top of an injured leg.

  Behind him, he heard her feeble attempt to keep up. Too proud to protest or complain. If she had been any other woman, he might have been impressed. Hell, truth was, he wouldn’t have cared. Women didn’t generally get under his skin. Except his mother. And this one.

  An hour later, they met up with the railroad tracks again as they came in from the south. They followed them for about a mile when suddenly the forest dropped back to allow a river to cut a path through the unrelenting wilderness. The sight that welcomed them had Sam coming to an abrupt halt.

  Next to him, Ivy gasped, “Oh Mighty Jesus.”

  Sam lifted his Stetson then shoved a hand through the front of his hair and grumbled, “Damnation.”

  A bridge spanned a good seven hundred feet across the wild river below.

  “How do we cross?”

  He hesitated only a second. “We walk.”

  “What?” she exclaimed, taking a step back. “Absolutely not!”

  “We’ve got no other choice.” He eyed the narrow gauge of the tracks and grimaced. “There’s nowhere to cross down by the river. The rapids are too violent to even risk crossing.”

  “I have no intention of crossing that.” She pointed an angry finger at the bridge as if it were his fault it lay in their path.

  He turned and looked at her over his shoulder and realized her eyes were actually round with fear rather than anger, their icy blue depths having turned slightly darker. He took a nice long deep breath before glancing back at the huge wood and steel construction. The river beneath ran wide and north and he had no idea how far they would need to travel before coming across a more decent crossing. If any, for that matter. For all Sam knew, this was the one and only crossing.

  He glanced back at Ivy and noticed her struggling to keep her weight off her bad ankle. It was becoming obvious it was causing her more trouble than she let on. The sooner he found her a doctor the better.

  “Let’s get going.”

  “I can’t.”

  “You can.”

  “No, I can’t!”

  “You have to. Now is not the time to succumb to your fears.”

  “Then just leave me,” she pleaded. “I won’t run. I promise, just don’t be making me cross that bridge.”

  “I can’t take that risk.”

  “I won’t cross.”

  “You will.”

  “No, I told you, I can’t—“

  In a flash, he pulled his gun from his holster and aimed it at Ivy’s chest. “You will,” he repeated.

  The blood drained from her face and he felt an unfamiliar feeling of remorse come over him. He hadn’t planned on this, but he had to get her across. And what Ivy feared most was death. “Now you can either die right here, or take your chances out there.”

  Something momentarily flickered across her face. He almost thought it might have been sorrow, but it was gone before he could tell for certain. She stiffened and the blueness in her eyes literally drained, leaving them cold and lifeless. Then turning, she made her way over to the first railroad tie. He hated to admit it, but Sam was impressed with her false bravery.

  “Here,” he said, reaching around her midriff with the rope. When she simply glared at him, he sighed and told her, “For safety.”

  After he secured the other end around his own waist, she turned and began to make her way cautiously across. She moved slowly and trembled far more than he felt comfortable with, but he made sure to keep a short line between them.

  Not surprisingly, the wind was stronger up on the trestles. Ivy’s skirts flapped against her legs and her cloak fanned out behind her leaving Sam no alternative but to add an extra foot of distance between them.

  He kept his eyes strained on Ivy, though he had to squint against the cold wind. It stung his cheeks and caused his eyes to tear. The howling of the wind had become so loud in his ears, he found himself more than once glancing over his shoulder expecting to see a train bearing down on them.

  It was a long way across and Ivy was moving at turtle speeds. Though he could appreciate her fear, he wanted very much to hurry her along. However, it was the obvious struggle she was having with her ankle that had him biting his tongue.

  From beneath them, the sound of the currents rumbled far below their feet. He could easily see the chilly river through the tiers spanning the bridge as it rushed past. Glancing up, he realized Ivy had noticed the same thing. She seemed to wobble then halted altogether.

  “Don’t look down.”

  When she didn’t seem to hear him, he called out louder. “Ivy! Keep moving and don’t look down.”

  He sighed with relief when he saw her head produce a small nod before she stumbled over to the next tier. For good measure, he wrapped the connecting rope a second time around his wrist.

  They had managed to pass the halfway point and were slowly making their way toward the other side when Ivy suddenly stumbled over a tier. She cried out, trying desperately to right herself. But her fear and panic must have kicked into full max, because she was unable to get a good footing once again. She hit the tracks with a scream torn from the depths of her core.

  Instinctively, Sam’s fingers tightened around the rope and braced his body to take the onslaught of her fall. He felt himself sway high up on the top of the trestle before; thankfully, he was able to gain control and right his balance. His eyes fell to Ivy sprawled out on the tracks, waiting for any sign that she had been hurt. But she remained frozen.

  “Are you all right?”

  There was a moment’s pause, and then she shook her head.

  Surprisingly, he was slammed with a concern very alien to him. “What’s wrong?”

  “I can’t go any further.” Her voice trembled with obvious tears.

  “It’s all right. Go ahead and wait a second to collect yourself.”

  “I can’t go any further,” she repeated, though louder and more hysterical.

  Sam glanced up and noted the black clouds beginning to roll in quickly. Forcing down his own rising panic, he shot a quick glance toward the other side and said, “It’s not much further now, you can make it.”

  She tilted her head to look for herself, though apparently it did little to assure her fears. “I can’t.”

  “Yes you can, Ivy.”

  “No.” But her response was lost in a burst of tears.

  Sam groaned, hating the sound of her cries. No matter how long he lived, that particular sound would forever haunt him. “All right, listen, Ivy. You’re doing great. You’ve gotten this far, I know you can make it the rest.”

  Her copper curls bounced in the wind as she shook her head. “No, I can’t. I twisted me bad ankle. I can’t walk anymore.”

  Oh Christ.

  “All right,” he said, thinking fast as he slowly made his way towards her. “This is what we’re going to do. I’m going to move in front of you, and then you’re going to climb up onto my back.”

  “What? Absolutely not.”

  But he ignored her and placed his feet cautiously next to her prone figure as he stepped over her. Once safely standing before her, he let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. “Okay, Ivy, you have to at least get up on to your knees. Can you do that?”

  “Oh God, Sam.”

  “I know,” he said, using his softest tone of voice. “Just don’t look down. Keep your eyes on me. All set?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good.” As he heard her slowly pull herself into a kneeling position, he cautiously lowered himself down onto his haunches. “Once you’re ready, I want you to grab hold of my neck. And, Ivy, stop looking down.”

  “I’m not!”

 
“You are. Now focus.”

  He felt her arms slip around him and closed his eyes in relief. “Ye ain’t going to be falling, are ye?”

  He chuckled. “I wasn’t planning on it. Are you holding on tight? I’m going to stand up now.”

  Fear filled her voice once more. “Why don’t we just crawl across?”

  “If you haven’t noticed, there’s a storm right on our path and I for sure as hell don’t want to get stuck out here when it’s wet and slippery.” Taking a glance ahead of them, he added under his breath, “Or if a train suddenly appears.”

  Even with the wind stealing away with his words, she must have been close enough to hear, for she exclaimed, “Oh my God! A train? Do ye really think so?”

  Sam shot his eyes heavenward, but reached around and grabbed hold of her legs, careful not to grip her injured ankle. “Here we go.”

  As he pushed up onto his feet, Ivy let out a blood curdling scream.

  “Jesus!” His head shot up, wholeheartedly expecting to see an oncoming train. When the tracks remained empty, he shook his head and asked, “What is it? What’s wrong?”

  Her arms swung around and clung to his neck. “It’s so much higher up here.”

  With one hand, he pried the arm, which clung the tightest to his neck, slightly loose. “Close your eyes.”

  “What? Why?” she exclaimed as if he had just asked her to give away her first born.

  “You can’t be frightened of something you can’t see.”

  “But what if ye fall?”

  “I won’t.”

  There was a moment’s hesitation, then he felt her physically relax against his back. “Promise?”

  Instead of replying to that, he asked, “Are they closed?”

  “Aye.”

  Gripping the back of her thighs more securely, Sam made his way across. Slower than he would have preferred, but faster than they had been moving earlier. He planted his boots with steadiness on each tier, straining every muscle in his legs to keep them from buckling. Mindful of his own words, he kept his attention straight ahead and refused to look down.