The Color of Ivy (23 page)

His eyes proceeded further down the page
to the article.  It quoted the judge as saying how much the crime had sickened him and never before in all his years in the judge’s seat had he ever seen a more deplorable act.  The article ended with the judge’s final words.  “
May God have mercy on her soul
.”

Before, Sam hadn’t paid much attention to that part of the clipping.  He hadn’t really cared what the judge thought.  But this last quote had him unexpectedly thinking the reverse.  May God be merciful
to all those who had judged and judged Ivy wrongly.

Judge not that ye be not judged
.

He frowned and dropped the paper as a wave of
nausea came over him.  He was no better than the people in that article.  He had condemned Ivy based on his own fears and prejudice.  He had allowed his own perception of females to mar his ability to see her for who she was, rather than what his mother had been.

One does not burn the entire forest because of one warped tree.

Christ.  What had he done?

A pounding on his door startled him.  Immediately, he reached for his gun.  Opening the door only ajar, he peered through at the man on the opposite side.  It was the town’s chief of police.  Even before he spoke, Sam felt his insides clench.

“Sorry to disturb you, Mr. Michalski, but you told me to let you know the moment I received this.”  He held out a piece of small, single sheet of yellowish paper.  “A wire came in from Chicago.”

* * *

Sam didn’t know what the hell he thought he was doing as he made his way across town.  The streets were completely quiet.  Not a sole stirred.  He had driven his horse hard through the night after he received the wire from Roy.  It had only the one word.

Tomorrow
.

He hadn’t ever felt such joy in one simple word.  There was still time.  Time for him to fix this horrible wrong.

The foul odors from the sewers emptying into the waterways, drifted over the city.  To Sam, it smelled like bloody shit.  Hell, he hated the city.  The sooner he got Ivy and got the hell out of town, the happier he’d be.

At the correctional building, he saw a single lamp burning from the main office.  Inside, he found one of the sheriff’s deputies sitting at his desk doing paperwork.  At Sam’s entrance
, he looked up, not in the least surprised to see him.

“Marshal said you might be by to pay us a visit.”

“I just want five minutes.”

“You’re too late.”  The man told him and Sam felt all his hopes come crashing down in
one huge wave of pure anguish, until the man sighed and said, “He was here earlier and took her over to the jailhouse to await her execution in the morning.”

Christ.  He flew out of the building, taking the steps two at a time.  Leaping back on his horse, he kicked him hard and tore across town.  A quick glance up to the sky and it still appeared black as the night.

He paid no mind to his surroundings as he flew past through the crowded city with its multi-story buildings.  When he reached the station’s entrance, he came to a screeching halt when he saw Roy sitting calmly in a wooden chair.

“Where is she?”

“You made good time.”  He calmly got to his feet and pulled out a cigar from the inside of his coat.

“Where is she, Roy?”

He looked at Sam and he could read the look of disappointment on his face.  “You always had too soft of a heart.  Knew it that day I had to put old Almo down, but in the end you came to realize I was right.  It was the right thing to do.”

“You’re not right this time, Roy,” he told him.  “She’s innocent.”

“Is that why you came?  To break her out?”  His brows rose.  “And then do what?  You’re going to be looking over your shoulder for the rest of your life.”

Instead of replying, he asked instead, “Why did you wire me
before her execution?”

He took a long drag on
his cigar before answering.  “Because you needed closure.  You weren’t able to do that with your mother or with Daphne, but this one you can.”

“You wanted me to watch her hang?”

“That’s right.  See her for who she truly is.”

“And what if you’re wrong?”

His eyes narrowed as he looked at Sam closely.  Then quietly told him with full sincerity, “I only wish I was.”

“Give me five minutes.”

He sighed, not happy with the request, but glanced over to the desk where a lone officer sat.  “Would you escort Mr. Michalski to Ivy McGregor’s cell?”

Sam gave him a silent nod of gratitude.  If it was all he had, he would use his five minutes effectively.

He followed the officer to a long corridor where a heavy wooden door sat at the far end.  He opened it and proceeded down another corridor.  This one made mostly of iron rails.  It was at the end of these that he slid a key into the gated door and opened it for Sam to proceed. “Stay to your right.  She’s in the last cell.”

Before him was a set of stairs
leading to a row of cells located in the lower part of the prison.  The officer removed a kerosene lamp from the wall and lit it before handing it over to Sam.  After taking his first few steps, the gate locked shut behind him.  Making his way further down the stairs, Sam took note of the thick stone and concrete walls.  They smelled damp and moldy.

On the opposite side, the corridor was lined with
iron cells no bigger than horse stalls.  Raising his lantern, he peered into the first one.  It was dark and filthy, but empty.  The second cell revealed it too was unoccupied and when he reached the third, he almost thought it was also vacant until he spotted her huddled in a dark corner.

Inside, something felt as if it literally died.  He winced,
knowing her fear of small quarters.  “Ivy?”

He knew she wouldn’t be sleeping.  Her head slowly raised and she squinted over at him.  He lowered the lamp to
remove the light from shining in her eyes.  “Sam?”

He paused to take in her appearance.  She looked strained and pale, yet her copper hair stood out in contrast like a ball of fire in the glow of the lamp.  “How’s your ankle?”

“What are y’doing here?”

“To finish this.”  He spoke quietly, not wanting the officer to overhear.  “Are you able to walk?”

A
V
formed between her brows.  “What do ye want Sam?”

“I’m breaking you out of here,” he simply told her.  “Can you jimmy the lock on those iron shackles?”

She didn’t budge.  “Ye think I lied,” she reminded him.  “Ye believed I killed him.”

“Trust isn’t one of my better traits,” he said with a grin, trying to fall back on his usual sarcasm, but one look at Ivy, and the
humor died on his lips.  “But I’m working on it, Ivy.”

Glancing toward the stairs, he said, “We don’t have much time.  We’ll discuss this later.  I’ll get the keys
to the cell, but the shackles are the marshal’s.  You’ll have to pick ‘em.”

When he received no response, he turned and found her staring at him.  “Why are ye doing this?”

Their eyes met and held.  Suspicion was clearly evident in hers.  He supposed he couldn’t blame her.  Not more than five days ago, he had accused her of lying.  “The dress.”

“Pardon?”

“The dress they found covered in blood and supposedly belonged to you,” he told her.  “It was found at the bottom of the laundry pile.  Didn’t you tell me earlier that Stella was the one to hire out the laundry?”

Something flickered across her face and with a start Sam realized Ivy had known all along.  “You’re covering for her, aren’t you?”

She shook her head before dropping her chin.  “I don’t know how or even if she’s involved.”

“Dammit, Ivy.  You would have hung for a murder you did not commit, just to protect this woman?”

Her head snapped up.  “No.”

“Then why didn’t you say anything?  Tell Roy?”

“He would never have believed me.  Even ye thought I was guilty.”

That stung.  More so because it was true.  “So you chose to remain silent instead?”

“I didn’t realize her possible involvement until ye gone and told me the eyewitness was Becky.”

He frowned.  “What would be her motive?”

“I’m not entirely certain.”

“But you have an idea, don’t you?”

She gave a sad little shake of her head.  “No, not really.  It doesn’t make any sense.”

“Dammit, Ivy, you need to find out.  You just can’t sit back and hope things will work out for you.”

Something in her expression made him draw back.  He nearly choked on his next words.  “Ivy, why haven’t you tried to escape?”

“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.”