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Her gaze slid over to the bald man to his left. He was dressed in formal preacher cloth and clutching a bible to his chest. His expression was stern as he observed her coldly through the iron bars.
“If you would like to offer your repentance,” he told her as explanation.
She stared at Roy Emerson. This was the man who Sam had grown to love and respect. When he held her gaze without blinking, Ivy relented and turned away.
She heard him quietly thank the preacher before sending him off. To her surprise, he did not follow. Instead, he turned the key in the lock and came towards her with a set of shackles.
“You’re being transferred to the Hubbard station to await your execution in the morning.”
The heavy iron rings he held locked over her wrists. Attached to them was a hefty link of chains that connected to a set of cuffs he fastened around her ankles. “Come on.”
He took her elbow in his hand and propelled her out of the cell. She stumbled from the awkwardness of the restraints, but managed to straighten herself before she could fall. Her ankle had healed well enough several days ago allowing her to put weight on it again, though walking at anything faster than a shuffle was impossible. Her restraints, thankfully, prevented her from doing exactly that.
They passed the old drunk who pressed his face between his rails. “Hey, what about me?”
“Sit tight old man,” Roy said. “You’ll be released soon enough.”
As they moved slowly up the stairs, the marshal unexpectedly said, “Sam is like a son to me.”
She turned slightly toward him at the sound of Sam’s name.
“Twenty something years ago, he came to me a hurt and angry young man. Not surprising when you realize where he came from. But I saw something in that boy. Do you know what that was, Ms. McGregor?”
Her gaze shifted, but she refrained from answering.
“A soul. There was good in that boy even after all he had gone through. Perhaps too much. He had a soft heart. Too soft. As a young lad he brought home strays by the dozen. Something about their vulnerability struck a chord with him. There was this dog, part wolf, a real beauty. She stayed with us the longest. Sam grew real attached to her. I thought it would do him good, maybe help his heart heal, but when the poor creature got sick and needed to be put down, Sam was livid. Had a powerful right hook even at that age.” He reached up and stroked his cheek as if he could still feel the sting of Sam’s punch. “I don’t think he ever forgave me for that, but he did come to realize I was right. As I am about you. His soft heart had always been his greatest weakness. Apparently still is.”
His eyes met hers in the darkness. “He wanted to believe in the virtuous of others. I think a part of him needed it. Some type of retribution for his mother’s actions. Hard to live in a corrupt world when one is so young and impressionable. Whether he would admit it or not, he became very gullible. Laying his trust where it had no business lying. That mistake cost him.”
“I’m not Daphne Sweeney.”
One brow arched. “He told you about her, did he? You must have gotten close out in that wilderness, just as I suspected.”
She fell silent once again, refusing to fall for his bait.
“I thought after her, his heart had grown a thick protective layer over it. It took some damn bruising, but in the end I think it only made him harder.”
Looking up at her hair, he reached into his coat pocket, retrieved a cigar and told her, “You look like his mother, did he tell you that too? She had fiery red hair as well. Never spoke of her often, but I knew he loved her dearly. All the more reason why her betrayal cut deep.”
Ivy closed her eyes. She could relate to that feeling. Sam’s own betrayal had felt like a laceration to her heart. Inside, she was slowly bleeding to death. If she were not already going to die by hanging, she was certain she would have eventually died from the inside out.
“It killed me to see the pain on his face and swore never again would I allow someone to hurt that boy.” Outside a paddy wagon waited. Roy Emerson easily loaded her into the back before following her inside.
“Thing is, I took the blame for what happened with Ms. Sweeney. You see I wanted him to trust again, give his heart to another. I encouraged his belief in that woman. Hell, I was just so damn happy to finally see him go soft toward something actually human.”
He paused, before continuing, “After, I felt partly responsible. That boy ain’t never had anyone to believe in. No one to trust but this sorry old face. I let him down. So I made it my goal to track her down and ensure she paid the price for what she’d done. Both for her crime and for what she gone and done to Sam. I eventually tracked her into Mexico, but by the time I located her she had gone and taken her own life. But not before she put a bullet in her old man’s skull in a fit of jealousy. Seems he had taken another lover.”
He pulled out a cigar and lit it in the darkness. His face momentarily reflected in the small flame. “But I felt cheated, you see. I wanted Sam to know this woman paid for her crime. Just like his momma had. But this time I wanted to give him the satisfaction of watching her swing for what she’d done.”
Ivy felt her heart grow hard. The wagon bumped along the cobble roads, jostling her slightly in her seat. Even in the dim interior, she felt him staring at her long and hard.
“I figured I owed it to him, seeing I was somewhat at fault.”
For some reason, she had an urge to cry. She wasn’t entirely sure why. It had been days since she shed her last tear. But sitting there in the dark, listening to this man’s account of Sam’s past, stirred a pain in her she had thought numb.
The wagon came to a stop and someone opened the back door. Roy got out first, then waited as Ivy climbed out on unsteady footing. A huge gray and somber building confronted her. But it was the large wooden scaffold silhouetted against the night sky in the courtyard of the prison that caused her sharp intake of breath.
Roy Emerson handed her chains over to the officer waiting for them. Then turning his gaze back down at her face, told her, “I guess one could say I still do.”
