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Ivy stiffened refusing to show any emotion. He wanted Sam to see her swing.
Roy Emerson suddenly smiled. “I suggest you get some sleep, Ms. McGregor. The morrow will be upon us within a few hours.”
Her attention could not be drawn from the gallows standing ominously before her.
“Goodbye, Ms. McGregor.”
* * *
Sam lay staring up at the ceiling. Hell, he should have been sleeping. But he hadn’t slept since Roy loaded Ivy on that coach bound for Chicago. No matter how much he hated it, he couldn’t get her out of his head. He followed her high profile case in the papers. The court trial had been held immediately upon her return and, as he suspected, went quickly and predictably. She had no lawyer to represent her. The verdict was swift. Guilty. The sentencing even swifter. Death by hanging.
He rolled over and tried to ignore the overwhelming sorrow those words caused. It was his own fault for allowing himself too close. He knew better, damn it. But still he fell once more under the manipulation of a conniving female. No matter how soft he had grown toward her, the fact was, she was guilty.
She had tried to plead her innocence as he had known all along she would, but the evidence was pointing elsewhere. As long as he lived, he would never come to understand her actions. Or forgive them. She had made a choice of her own free will that fateful night. For that, she would face her consequence as any other criminal.
As did his mother.
He closed his eyes at the unexpected raw emotion which tore at his chest. He was overcome by the sudden urge to cry. He hadn’t wanted to cry since the day they hung her. When the sheriff came to tell him it was all over, something had died inside Sam. Something viral. Without it, he knew he hadn’t been a full person since.
Ivy’s last words came back to haunt him. She had claimed he was unable to trust. She had been right. He had wanted to. God knew he wanted to. But ther
e would always be a part of him fearing the hurt and betrayal his mother had caused.
Only with Ivy had he felt that missing part begin to stir back to life inside him again. He had felt trust yearning to be released. Even now, as he lay there staring up at the ceiling, that little piece of him refused to believe she was guilty. He absolutely could not accept she did it out of jealousy, and he outright rejected the idea she did it out of pure hatred.
Whatever her reasons, he didn’t doubt in Ivy’s mind she had done the right thing. Her tortured past might have explained her behavior, even if it did not condone it. He would wait until the sentencing was complete, then return to Chicago to claim her body. She had no family left. No one to mourn her passing.
He would give her a proper burial. She would like that. After everything she had endured, it was the only thing left he could offer her.
Sitting up, Sam gave up all attempts at trying to sleep. His thoughts were in utter turmoil. His emotions in even further chaos. He could feel the clock ticking on her life like a huge weight on his heart.
His gaze fell on the newspaper folded on his night table, opened to the article regarding Ivy’s trial. He picked it up and skimmed through the piece, having already read it a dozen times. Immediately, his eyes fell on the likeness of her. Or what he could see of it.
She was being ushered through a huge crowd waiting at the courthouse, her head down, her face concealed. Roy stood to her right, doing his best to shield her from the angry mob. Sam’s fingers clenched the paper automatically. Even without being able to see her eyes, her pain reached out to him.
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.
