She left her room, taking the tea tray with her, and wandered downstairs. Already, the girls were gathered in the parlor, waiting for the customers who would walk through the doors. She nodded toward them and pushed through the kitchen’s swinging door, the aroma of whatever Mrs. Gallagher was cooking reminding her that she’d had nothing but tea all day. Still, she wasn’t hungry. Her heart was too heavy.
Mrs. Gallagher looked up. “Are you all right, lass?”
“Yes and no.” She placed the tray on the table, then pulled a chair away and sat. “But I think I know why my mother did what she did. Why she didn’t try to come for me. Why she left me at school and didn’t interfere. She loved me.”
“She did, lass. With her whole heart, and I know that for a fact.”
“I also know why she was so kind to everyone. It’s because kindness had been missing from her life, and she knew what it felt like to be treated so cruelly. She refused to treat anyone else that way, and I love her for it.”
“That is true as well. Your mother didn’t talk about Odette very much, but I do know she went out of her way to be generous, to be loving, because of that woman.” Mrs. Gallagher pulled a ladle from the hook above the stove and filled a bowl. She added a slice of hearty sourdough bread and brought thebowl to the table, placing it in front of her. “Look what she did for me, taking me in when no one else would. Look what she did for Lily and the rest of the girls. And so many others. Too many to name. It’s like she went out of her way to be the opposite of her mother.”
The aroma hit Sheridan first, making her mouth water. “Beef Bourguignon. One of my favorites.” She picked up a spoon and tasted it. “It’s wonderful.”
The woman winked at her. “I know.”
Sheridan dipped her spoon into the hearty stew but paused before she brought it to her mouth. “I feel like I’ve been cheated.”
“You were. So was she.” Mrs. Gallagher poured a glass of milk and set it in front of her. “What are you going to do?”
“I’m going to try to be more like her.”
And the first step on that journey of becoming more like Josie was to write a letter to her grandmother and Estelle, letting them know what she had learned. Letting them know she would forgive them—eventually—but she didn’t want to see them until she did…and maybe not even then.
She finished the Beef Bourguignon, then soaked up the juices with the bread, drank her milk, and went upstairs, taking the back staircase so she wouldn’t run into any customers. She could already hear the raised voices of the men and the soft laughter of the girls. She closed the door to her room, added a few more logs to the embers in the fireplace, then made herself comfortable at the desk in the corner. Pulling the lilac-tinted stationery from the drawer, she spread it out on the desk’s shiny surface, then grabbed the fancy fountain pen from its holder and began to write.
CHAPTER 5
Wyatt looked out at the horizon, watching the cattle trek through the snow on the ground as they made their way to the bales of hay he’d put out in strategic places. Lately, he hadn’t been thinking of this ranch as MacLean’s Mistake. No, something had changed. Something he hadn’t expected. And it was all because of the beautiful, young woman he’d met, quite by accident. Or maybe it hadn’t been by accident at all. Lucy had suggested he visit Josie’s.
Sheridan DuBois, with her green eyes like new spring leaves, hadn’t been out of his thoughts for more than a minute since they’d met.
He hadn’t seen her since he brought her home from Sullivan’s Emporium and she’d hid behind him, afraid of the ‘wolf,’ but the memory of her warm body pressed against his back and her hands on his waist remained.
He sure wished she would have smiled. He would have loved to have seen that. He had a feeling her smile could light up the darkness.
Hank, one of his two ranch hands, rode up beside him. “What are you grinning about?”
Startled, as he’d been in his own little world, he jumped, making Brigadier move beneath him. “Nothing.”
Hank grunted. “Nothin’, huh? Didn’t look like nothing. Looked like you were moonin’ over someone.” He laughed then. “I remember that look. Saw it in my own mirror a time or two after I met Mary.”
Wyatt stiffened. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“If you say so.”
He didn’t push it. Let the man believe what he wanted. Instead, he changed the subject. “How is Mary?”
“She’s a bit anxious, waitin’ for the baby to be born. Doc Hart says it could be any day now.”
“Have you decided on a name yet?”
He shook his head. “We’re still thinkin’ about a name for a son.” He lowered his voice, as if there might be someone else in the middle of this field that could hear him. “But I sure as hell don’t want him to be named Aloysius Constantine after her father.”
Wyatt gave a short bark of laughter, surprised. “Can’t say I blame you there though, you could call him Conn if you wanted. What about if it’s a girl?”
“Oh, that was easy. Sally. Sally Anne, after her mother and mine.”
“Why don’t you head on home then? And take the next week off.”
