Read Online The Color of Ivy by Peggy Ann Craig - Free Book Online
Authors: Peggy Ann Craig
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before until all that remained was one heap of twisted wreckage.
From out of a large black cloud of smoke, he spotted the first car. Or what was left of it. The wooden coach lay in one, huge heap of kindling wood. He grimaced imagining the state of the occupants. He and Ivy McGregor's lives had been spared because they were located in the least damaged cars in the back of the fleet.
He weaved his way through the charred remains of the front cars not expecting to find any life, but needed to search for his own peace of mind. Not surprisingly, not a single life stirred. Other than himself, there were no survivors.
Except one.
Anger pierced his conscience. Out of all the decent folks on that fateful train, Ivy McGregor, a cold-blooded murderer, had survived.
Thrusting his anger aside, he forced himself to concentrate. He was an expert tracker. Recapturing her would not be a problem, though the darkness wouldn’t be of much help. He glanced toward the eastern horizon and spotted the trace of gray sky. Dawn would be arriving within the next hour.
That would give him enough time to collect some much needed supplies for tr ekking through the wilderness. He’d pick up her trail and hunt her down. If there was one thing Sam was proud of, it was his tracking skills. He was the best. His expertise was often sought. And a woman with nothing but the clothes on her back, would be a cinch. He’d find her and haul her back to where she belonged. Prison.
Covering his mouth with his bandanna, he climbed through the black smoke and into the shard remains of the engine. Finding and lighting a kerosene lantern, he uncovered a satchel and quickly gathered what he needed. In a cabinet drawer, he found a map and was able to pinpoint where the accident occurred to the mile board he spotted on the telegraph line near the back of the fleet. With his finger he traced a trail to Fort William. Three days of walking he figured.
With a sigh, he turned and blew out the light. Crawling back out of the wreckage, he gave a quick glance up and noticed the gray sky beginning to spread westward. They were closer to Fort William than he realized, which made him wonder just how long he had been unconscious. And how much of a head start Ivy McGregor had on him. All he knew for certain was, he wanted to re-apprehend his prisoner as soon as possible. Dead or alive.
* * *
Ivy struggled through the heavily dense forest. It was cold, but she barely noticed over her own sweat. She had been on the move for several hours. How many? She wasn’t certain. Where she was headed? Even less certain.
The wilderness was one huge maze of forest and bush. She knew she was over her head in the surroundings. But she would not go back to Chicago. She would rather die at the hands of nature before she succumbed to her fate back in the United States.
She swiped at some mosquitoes buzzing around her sweaty face. It surprised her at their unexpected appearance being it was so late into autumn. However, though it was cold it was not nearly frigid enough. With the warmth of the sun beating down on the earth and the lure of the many marshes she had passed, more than likely helped prolong their life.
Tugging her hood closer to her face to help prevent their invasion, she pushed forward only to stumble over her own feet. Exhaustion had long gone and crept into her weary bones. She had gone without sleep. Not uncommon for her, as she had trained her body years before to survive on the most minimum amount of sleep and at those, in short spurts. But last night, she remained awake and alert. Her body engulfed in terror. A terror that had long ago permanently embedded itself in Ivy.
She hated being enclosed. Walls all surrounding her. The train had been bad enough, so small and compact. But the baggage car Sam Michalski had sealed her into had no windows and felt ten times smaller.
From out of a large black cloud of smoke, he spotted the first car. Or what was left of it. The wooden coach lay in one, huge heap of kindling wood. He grimaced imagining the state of the occupants. He and Ivy McGregor's lives had been spared because they were located in the least damaged cars in the back of the fleet.
He weaved his way through the charred remains of the front cars not expecting to find any life, but needed to search for his own peace of mind. Not surprisingly, not a single life stirred. Other than himself, there were no survivors.
Except one.
Anger pierced his conscience. Out of all the decent folks on that fateful train, Ivy McGregor, a cold-blooded murderer, had survived.
Thrusting his anger aside, he forced himself to concentrate. He was an expert tracker. Recapturing her would not be a problem, though the darkness wouldn’t be of much help. He glanced toward the eastern horizon and spotted the trace of gray sky. Dawn would be arriving within the next hour.
That would give him enough time to collect some much needed supplies for tr ekking through the wilderness. He’d pick up her trail and hunt her down. If there was one thing Sam was proud of, it was his tracking skills. He was the best. His expertise was often sought. And a woman with nothing but the clothes on her back, would be a cinch. He’d find her and haul her back to where she belonged. Prison.
Covering his mouth with his bandanna, he climbed through the black smoke and into the shard remains of the engine. Finding and lighting a kerosene lantern, he uncovered a satchel and quickly gathered what he needed. In a cabinet drawer, he found a map and was able to pinpoint where the accident occurred to the mile board he spotted on the telegraph line near the back of the fleet. With his finger he traced a trail to Fort William. Three days of walking he figured.
With a sigh, he turned and blew out the light. Crawling back out of the wreckage, he gave a quick glance up and noticed the gray sky beginning to spread westward. They were closer to Fort William than he realized, which made him wonder just how long he had been unconscious. And how much of a head start Ivy McGregor had on him. All he knew for certain was, he wanted to re-apprehend his prisoner as soon as possible. Dead or alive.
* * *
Ivy struggled through the heavily dense forest. It was cold, but she barely noticed over her own sweat. She had been on the move for several hours. How many? She wasn’t certain. Where she was headed? Even less certain.
The wilderness was one huge maze of forest and bush. She knew she was over her head in the surroundings. But she would not go back to Chicago. She would rather die at the hands of nature before she succumbed to her fate back in the United States.
She swiped at some mosquitoes buzzing around her sweaty face. It surprised her at their unexpected appearance being it was so late into autumn. However, though it was cold it was not nearly frigid enough. With the warmth of the sun beating down on the earth and the lure of the many marshes she had passed, more than likely helped prolong their life.
Tugging her hood closer to her face to help prevent their invasion, she pushed forward only to stumble over her own feet. Exhaustion had long gone and crept into her weary bones. She had gone without sleep. Not uncommon for her, as she had trained her body years before to survive on the most minimum amount of sleep and at those, in short spurts. But last night, she remained awake and alert. Her body engulfed in terror. A terror that had long ago permanently embedded itself in Ivy.
She hated being enclosed. Walls all surrounding her. The train had been bad enough, so small and compact. But the baggage car Sam Michalski had sealed her into had no windows and felt ten times smaller.
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