The Color of Ivy by Peggy Ann Craig Read Free Book Online

moment.”
    Sam grumbled low.  “Another damn hero.  Listen mister, you’ll do us both a favor if you just step back.”
    “What is it you want?” Another man in the crowd demanded.
    “At the moment, I’d really appreciate you kind folks clearing a path and letting us through,” Sam said and tightened his grip on the woman for good measure.  This only made her struggle harder.
    “Hold still now.” He snapped at her, but offered, “I don’t want to break you.”
    “Who do you think you are anyway?” Someone from the gathering queried.
    Sam glanced back to the spectators and realized they had gotten over their initial fear and were rallying behind Harold Radford. The passenger car was definitely starting to buzz with excitement.  And not the good kind.  The onlookers had now become a very excited and very irate group.  He knew he had to get her off the train now before the situation got out of hand.  A heroic old man was one thing.  A car load of them was another.
    Sam pushed past the spectators toward the next vestibule, dragging his cuffed prisoner behind him.
    Harold Radford, however, did not give up so easily.  “Who exactly are you?  And what on earth would you want with Ms. James?  She is worth absolutely nothing.”
    “On the contrary, sir.  She is worth a hell of a lot.”
    “Ye lyin’ fiend.  That I am not.”
      “For pity’s sake, hold still.”  For some stupid reason, Sam was impressed with the look of determination in her eyes.  And surprisingly, considering how many crusaders she had at her disposal, she refrained from asking for help. 
    “Are you robbing the train?” someone cried out.
    Sam actually chuckled.  “Folks, you need to relax.  I’m not here to rob or cause a threat to any of you.  So please, once and for all, return to your seats.”
    Ivy McGregor jerked painfully on his arm socket and drew his attention away from their audience.  “Dammit, woman.”
    “I demand ye release me at once,” she said in her sweet little Irish accent.  However, sweet she was anything but, he was apt to remember that.  He glared down at her and noticed her eyes fully ablaze as well.  Their chilly depths remarkably aflame.  “Why are ye doing this?”
    There was a tiny catch to her voice , small and barely noticeable, but to Sam’s disconcertment he found himself pausing.  Found himself looking into her eyes.
    They were so pale and lifeless.
    Then to his confusion, he felt a jolt at what he thought was a sudden but brief appearance of emotion lurking just beneath the surface of her aloof gaze. Reminded him suddenly of a time he had tracked a wanted but highly skilled mountain man, into the cold and harsh hills of Montana.  He had just crossed a frozen lake when it suddenly broke and he had found himself clinging to a chunk of floating ice.  By some miracle, he had dragged his nearly hypothermic self out of those frigid waters.
    Then, because it was so damn cold, the water had iced over immediately once again, enabling him to latch onto something concrete to drag himself free.  It was while he sat staring at what should have been his frozen tomb that he noticed a few lone bubbles drifting up from the chilly bottom, unable to break free. 
    “Are you with the Mountie police then?”  Harold Radford inquired, looking hopeful.
    “That I am not, sir.”  Sam found his wrist wrenched backwards as his prisoner twisted in his grip , trying to free herself.  “I have reason to believe this woman is Ivy McGregor and am here to ensure she is returned to Chicago.”
    She stilled then, if only momentarily.  “I won’t be going back there.”  This was said in such a low voice, only Sam could have heard as the outraged gathering had grown quite loud.
    “Who the devil is Ivy McGregor and if you’re not the police, then who precisely are you?”  Harold pushed his face into Sam’s space, his eyes rounding suddenly when he spotted the cuffs.  “Remove those from her