Again, he felt for Sheridan, his heart breaking for her the way these two women, her relatives, treated her. He made a decision right then and there to show them both what a wonderful woman she was.
“Our buggy is right over there. Sheridan, why don’t you help them get settled and I’ll get the rest of their bags.”
She gave a slight nod then walked slowly toward the buggy, grandmother and aunt in tow.
“You look terrible, Sheridan. What’s happened to your skin?”
“My skin?”
Estelle sniffed. “It’s positively brown.”
“And you’ve gotten fat,” Odette opined as they walked behind her and tsked.
“Isn’t there a decent modiste here in this godforsaken town? Your clothes are so last year’s fashion.”
Sheridan didn’t defend herself. In fact, she didn’t say a word as both women continued to berate her in the most unkind way, making his blood boil. It was going to be a long visit. He wondered if he’d be able to hold his tongue and not give these women the comeuppance they deserved.
Mr. Simons handed him another bag, making six in total, then winked at him. “Good luck.”
Wyatt shook his head. “Thanks. I think I’ll need it.”
He loaded the baggage into the back of the buggy, his gaze sweeping over Sheridan. She looked like she was barely holding her emotions in check. And who could blame her? In the course of ten minutes at the most, he heard the words ‘ungrateful’, ‘willful’, ‘disappointed’, and ‘just like your mother’ several times each. He eyed Odette and Estelle, their faces hard, pinched, and clearly showing their horrible, unhappy natures. “Ladies? Are we ready?”
He helped everyone into the buggy, shook the reins and started the ride home.
“How was your trip?”
“It was horrible! What did you expect? The trains were late, more often than not, and that stagecoach ride was terrible. I saw my life flash before my eyes several times.” Estelle complained, probably expecting some sympathy.
“I’m sorry,” Sheridan murmured.
Odette harrumphed. “And no one was willing to help us or show us the smallest amount of courtesy.”
Wyatt almost scoffed at the comment, but kept his mouth closed. In his opinion, these ladies didn’t deserve courtesy, as neither one of them seemed to be able to extend it.
Sheridan asked after their health and received nothing but more contempt.
And again, Sheridan apologized, though she was in no way responsible, before she lapsed into silence.
He reached for her hand. She looked up at him and tried to smile but failed miserably. There were tears in her eyes, shimmering against her lashes. He let go of her hand and reached into his pocket to pull out a handkerchief, which he handed to her, wishing he could wipe those tears from her eyes himself. And all the while, his anger toward these two women, these harpies, grew. How could they treat Sheridan like this? How could they not see her as he did?
It was one of the longest rides to the ranch in the history of rides and he couldn’t wait for it to be over. He almost breathed a sigh of relief when he drove the buggy through the gate at the beginning of the long drive.
“What is this place? Where have you taken us?” Estelle demanded to know.
“This is Wyatt’s ranch,” Sheridan said softly.
“Why aren’t we going to your house, Sheridan, the one you inherited? The one you gave up everything to claim?”
“It’s being renovated. I’m going to sell it.”
“Good. You don’t belong here.” Estelle sniffed, her voice dripping with disdain.
Wyatt ignored them and their attitudes. Already, he didn’t like Odette and Estelle. “Welcome to Stone Creek Ranch. You’ll be staying with us for the extent of your visit.” He stopped the buggy in front of the house and climbed down, then extended his hand to Sheridan. She clasped it like a lifeline to her sanity. Itprobably was. He leaned in a little, his lips to her ear. “It’ll be all right, Sherry.”
She nodded, but it didn’t seem like she believed him. Her face remained pale, except for the two bright spots of color on her cheeks, and her eyes, despite the fact that she had wiped them several times with his handkerchief, glowed with tears. She drew in a shuddering breath, let it out slowly, then turned and extended her hand toward her grandmother. “Let me help you.”
Odette looked at her hand, then at her face. “I don’t need your help,” she snarled before another blistering beratement began. “Dragging me out to this…this…pit of Hades! An old woman like myself. You should be ashamed.”
