A Bet on Love and Hope (Preview)

Chapter One

Rena Olsen stared out the window of that B&O train car, gently rocking with its steady progress northeastward. The whistle blew, muffled in the distance from many cars ahead, a cloud of white steam rising and passing, leaving beads of dew on the glass.

Like tears, Rena couldn’t help thinking. But the train was moving fast pushing those beads back and away, wiping them away to reveal a clean slate. But Rena knew somehow that the train could not do the same for her or her tears, that they’d follow her no matter where she went; how far or how fast.

Rena’s reflection stared back at her on that translucent glass pane, pines and hickory passing by in the rugged landscape behind it.

Twenty years old, she thought, and I’m already starting to look like Aunt Jean; same chestnut hair, same diamond-shaped face and wide-set, hazel eyes. But Aunt Jean had been beautiful in her youth, and that’s how I remember her being. But that was before she lost her Herbert to consumption, before the road agents and the years of bitter loneliness.

Loneliness, Rena silently repeated; that’s the true danger in the world. It’s as deadly as a bullet, as destructive as a raging storm.

But there were other storms gathering behind Rena, and in front of her, and no mere train was going to deliver her. She knew that. But she knew she had no choice but to do what she did, whatever the consequence, however great the storm.

He’s found the letter by now, Rena had to silently admit, still not sure how he or her mother would have reacted to it. She’ll feel the way he feels, as always. She never had Aunt Jean’s pluck or gusto, the things about her Rena had loved best, the things she’d lost most tragically.

The same way I’m losing mine, Rena knew, that train shaking a bit more with a bank in the tracks.

But father, he’ll be furious. Rena could readily imagine him, stalking through the mansion, the letter in one hand, the other clenched in a frustrated fist. Nobody cheats Keith Olsen out of anything, especially not his own daughter, his one and only child; even if that person happens to be his own daughter, his one and only child.

Despite all he has, all he’s gained, all the power he’s accrued, Keith Olsen has lost as much as any man. It drives him, the notion of losing more, of being seen as less than the engaging and entertaining host of Philadelphia high society. And this, this could do serious damage to his reputation among those whose adoration he craves. This could reveal more about him to them, and to himself, than he would be willing to tolerate.

And it’s not like he’ll be at all sympathetic to my plight. He never was before, and this will only turn him further against me. If only there’d been some other way. But I was miserable, not that he ever cared. His life was about him, not about me; my leaving will just be more of the same.

A big black bear roamed through the oaks and dogwood as the train passed, a perfect reminder of the man on her mind; all that he could do, all that he would do.

He’s probably on his way after me right now. He’ll know where I’m headed, even without me having mentioned it. And he would most definitely not want me to get all the way to Montana; there are people and things that even the great Keith Olsen doesn’t want to face.

The possibilities were numerous, and all of them treacherous, streaming across her imagination.

He’ll have Pinkertons waiting for me at the next stop, Rena felt certain, easy to imagine them stalking through the train, car to car, until they find me and drag me off the train. Should have cut my hair, down to my waist! Should have dyed it, worn men’s clothes to disguise myself.

But it was too late for that, and all Rena could do was sit on that train as it hurled her toward failure.

Then what’ll happen once Father’s brought me back? He’ll keep me locked up in that mansion for the rest of my life, little more than one of his house servants. Rena could see herself skulking around the mansion, her height of nearly six feet slowly shrinking, narrow shoulders getting narrower.

Or he’ll finally just marry me off, as he’s threatened to do so often. I’d only barely managed to forestall that, but now? It’ll be the son of that importer, or the heir to the whaling company. Whaling! A perfect way for such a lowly man’s family to make a fortune!

I’d rather waste away in the kitchen or be shot by train bandits than face such a life. Surely, that’s not what God intends for me; I hope and pray not.

The train’s whistle blew again, barely registering through Rena’s worries and reflections.

Rena’s blood ran cold as she had to silently admit to herself, Or he won’t care at all. Maybe he’ll just be relieved to be rid of me.

It was too easy to remember the days and nights at the Olsen mansion and at the hotspots and posh parlors of Philadelphia. She could hardly avoid the visions of her father, bent over a roulette table or slouching behind a five-card hand and stack of chips, cigar smoke swirling around him. She could still hear his angry bellows, coming home drunk and embarrassed by serious losses at the tables. He staggered, absent of his wit and charm, spilling over with his baser instincts, his lesser self.

I tried to urge him to a better, cleaner life, Rena reminded herself, but the great man would pay no mind to his mere child, a girl child at that! What did my concerns mean to him? He never credited me with more intelligence than a dog or a horse, and of even less utility.

Even Mother cast me aside, shaking her head and following her husband as she always had; never challenging, never standing up for herself. But she’ll follow him into the pit, as it always is when the blind lead the blind. However hard I begged her, cried with her, she seemed helpless to stop the forward movement of their doomed marriage; no different than this train carrying me, and I’m hardly less helpless than she is.

But at least I am doing something, futile though it may be. At least I’m not a hypocrite, pretending to be the perfect couple, the light of Philadelphia social circles. How can they pretend the way they do? Do they imagine they’re really disguising their misery? Well, maybe from those others they know, the Bellingtons and the Harris couple and the whole Montebanks family, but I can see right through their happy veils. They’re as miserable on the inside as I’ve always been. They just seem to have found ways to live with it, where I just couldn’t.

Rena leaned against the window, cold and hard against her soft face.

Not that I didn’t try to find ways to be happy, to convince them as much as myself that I could make their life work for me. I had teas with the other daughters, the ballroom dances and the cotillions, learning boys and their bratty bragging. Only the Lord got me through it. But it only got worse, this deep-rooted loneliness. The more company I kept, the more alone I became. Until I just … I just had to run. Lord, help them understand.

But I know they won’t. They’ll call me ungrateful; they’ll say I’m a scandal and a lowlife. I never meant to be those things, but if that’s what they see, I can’t change that. I can only truly affect my own life, and this is my last chance to do it!

The train whistle blew again, that blanket of white steam passing the window and quickly fading.

Chapter Two

Thomas Cole kicked the dirt, a frustrated cloud of dust rising up under his heel. He surveyed the landscape, finally spotting the tower of smoke pouring up from the east. The track banked around a low mountain ridge, but the smoke gave the train’s approach away.

Thomas glanced up at the sun, and then shook his head, hands on his hips.

Unbelievable, he thought, gotta be at least three hours late. How much work could have gotten done back on the Triple I? That fencepost still needs to be replaced; new calf needs to be seen to. And I’m out here.

A goshawk cried as it circled overhead, the sun breaking through the low cloud cover.

Granted, Thomas had to tell himself, it’s no small job, picking up Albert’s granddaughter. And it stands to reason he’d want the best gun he’s got to ride her in from the train station. But what am I supposed to say to this woman? What am I going to have in common with some snooty heiress from Philadelphia? And what’s she doing here anyway? Who’d run away from a life of luxury, intermingling with the hot polloi, the upper crust, to live with a bunch of ranch hands and cowpokes?

A slight breeze was calming, Thomas looking out over the low mountains around Willowcrest tempering his discontent. It was beautiful, natural, clean, a place untouched by the stink and rot and crime of the big cities.

Philadelphia? They can keep it, and the rest; New York, Boston, take them and welcome! He took a deep breath of the clean air, milkweed already blossoming on the foothills. Who wouldn’t prefer this? Who wouldn’t come here to live a better, cleaner life?

But that supposition meant forgetting everything Thomas knew about people, about life. A better, cleaner life? What kind of person would need that but one who’d lived a lesser, dirtier life? A person with a past, running from something or someone. That’s the way of the world, for better or, much more likely, much much worse.

The train rolled up to the platform of the Willowcrest station. The big, black metal engine was greasy with oil and thick with smoke and grime. The whistle blew, the whistle clanged, others waiting with him rushing up to stand impatiently for their families, friends, loved-ones.

Thomas tried not to think about that too much.

I have found a sort of a family, among Albert and the others at the ranch. I feel about Albert as if he were a … a cherished uncle, he knows that. And I think he feels the same. Friends? Of course; more than friends.

Loved ones, Thomas repeated, the word ringing with a faint sadness in his soul. What about that? Even given the chance, certainly not with this young woman! Thomas shook his head to shake the tempting image of hands to kiss, smiles to share. Not with Albert’s granddaughter! Albert himself would feel betrayed, and how could I blame him? Out of respect alone I’m a fool to even foster the notion.

But beyond that, what would a wealthy and sophisticated woman want with me? What would I have to offer her; a home I could never afford? Children I could never support?

The train finally strained to a halt, a porter calling out, “Willowcrest, Montana! Willowcrest!”

Streams of people leaked out of the train, one from the front of each car. They were a parade of hoop skirts and bonnets, top hats and waistcoats.

Well, Thomas couldn’t help thinking, not only did she come out to Montana, she seems to have brought most of Philadelphia with her.

They collected on the platform, meeting up with those who were waiting for them, sharing hugs and even kisses, though most on the cheek. Children shrieked and jumped into their returned parents’ arms, one man catching Thomas’ attention, pulling his little girl close and rocking her gently in his loving embrace.

The crowd only got thicker, and Thomas stepped back to let them commingle as they would. Uncomfortable with crowds, he refused to push his way through any disinterested throng. There was always a better way.

And in this case, that came in the form of a woman’s head peeking out of the window of one car, closer to the caboose than the engine. She looked around the crowd, clearly alone, and looking for someone.

Thomas’ instincts told him this was the woman he’d come to retrieve. Unfortunately, the only way to her was to push through that crowd.

“Excuse me,” he said to one woman as he tried to slide past behind her, “pardon, pardon me.” The air around them was filled with stale perfume and cologne, evidence of long stretches of travel and no proper accommodation. For all their outward attractiveness and high-fashion sense, they were every bit as human as any cowboy or ranch hand, especially when gathered in such numbers.

Thomas already longed for the peace and quiet, and the ample space and fresh air of the Triple I Ranch.

They bumped into him from every direction, but at six-foot-three, Thomas was taller than most, his broad shoulders and labor-hardened arms made gave him an advantage. And by the look of the woman’s face as she peered out of the window, it made him substantially easier to spot.

The crowd was thinner next to her train, and Thomas was able to get close enough for a conversation at a civil volume.

“Miss Olsen? Rena Olsen?”

“That’s right,” she said, her chestnut hair tied back to reveal her pretty face. “And you are?”

“Thomas Cole, ranch hand at the Triple I.”

She looked at him with a strange combination of confusion and fear. “I … I beg your pardon?”

“The Triple I, owned and operated by your grandfather, Albert Olsen?”

“Yes, I … of course I know who my own grandfather is, good and well, thank you very much.”

Thomas shrugged, thinking, every bit the flibbertigibbet I expected! But what he said was merely, “Didn’t mean any offense.”

This put her off even more, stammering and looking around as if suddenly lost in her thoughts. “I … I’m not offended, just … confused.” Thomas looked up from the platform, letting her explain, “I … I didn’t tell my grandfather I was coming. It was sort of a … a surprise.”

Thomas couldn’t help huffing out a little chuckle. “I should say it would be. But I really don’t know any of the details, Miss Olsen. Albert … your grandfather, as you know … asked me to come and pick you up, bring you back to the ranch. That’s what I’m here to do.” A long, tense pause passed between them before he asked, “Any objection?”

She looked at Thomas, looked around, and he could tell she could find no grounds to object. But he had a feeling she might find one later, if convenient.

“Well … no, thank you, I … I wasn’t sure how I was going to get there, tell you the truth.”

“You’ve got a trunk, or—?”

“Just a bag. Thought I’d let the crowd thin a bit before I disembark. I really can’t stand a thick crowd around me, not if I can avoid it.”

Thomas didn’t have to give that too much thought. But something told him to withhold his agreement. Don’t want to seem too anxious, he thought, give her the wrong idea. Even though Thomas couldn’t deny to himself he was already getting that same wrong idea himself.

Don’t you do it, Thomas Cole, his inner man warned him, it’ll be the end of everything!

The crowd thinned. Thomas climbed up and into the train car, quickly finding Rena standing by her seat, luggage in a rack above. She was taller than most woman, just under six feet, with a lean physique, not overstated or undeveloped. She was dressed in a satiny dress, layered and shimmery that struck Thomas as even fancier than those of her fellow passengers.

She pointed at the bag on the rack. “I’d be grateful if you …”

Thomas offered a little nod and an even smaller smile before pulling the suitcase down. It was heavy, he granted, thinking, At least for a woman. Not that he would ever say it, at least not to a woman.

He turned to carry the bag off the train, Rena following behind him to step off the train and onto the platform.

Once walking away and down the platform, she said, “Did you want me to get a porter, or–”

“Not a problem,” Thomas said, tipping his hat with his free hand. “I’m at your disposal, Miss Olsen.”

“Please,” she said, “Rena.”

He turned and offered her a smile as they walked on. “Thomas.” They shared the smile but said nothing more before finding the carriage not far from the station house.

Chapter Three

Rena couldn’t stop thinking about it on the carriage ride out of town and toward the Triple I Ranch. There was no time to enjoy the landscape, the expansive sky as the clouds parted further; not even the more impressive view sitting next to her.

My father must have wired to my grandfather that I was coming, Rena reasoned, it’s the only possibility. But the real question is what’s his intention for me? Am I to be sent back immediately, or placated until his arrival to drag me back to Philadelphia by the ear like the errant, spoiled brat he surely takes me to be?

But those weren’t the only possibilities, and Rena was eager to explore the alternatives.

Maybe Grandpa Albert won’t be so ready to comply. He is my father’s father, after all, with all the strength of will Father ever had, and without the weaknesses for cards and liquor. There was always something between them, even more than I ever understood. Maybe my future will turn on that. And when Father comes for me, as he almost certainly will, maybe Grandpa Albert will stand against him. Then, maybe … who knows?

She glanced at Thomas beside her, posture straight and proud, shoulders back, handsome as he surveyed the territory. But he was silent, and it only struck her then that he had been since leaving the train station. He’d seemed friendly enough, but now he sat next to her like some kind of statue of an unknown young hero of frontier lore.

He doesn’t seem too pleased to have to deal with this, like I’m a chore he’d rather have avoided. Can that be so? I guess it stands to reason, Rena had to think. I’m surely imposing myself upon him, upon my grandfather, everyone at the Triple I. Imagine just showing up without announcing myself, without even being sure how I was going to get from the station to the ranch!

But her train of logic was easy to retrieve from her memory. I couldn’t very well announce myself, lest my grandfather or somebody else choose to betray me. There was always that chance. And as for imposing myself, well, this man is a hand in my grandfather’s employ, isn’t he? Is it my fault that his chores are whatever his boss decides that they are? And is coming here to pick me up really so unpleasant? What other chores at some horse and cattle factory could he have to deal with that would be so much more pleasing to him; collecting manure?

But as they rode on, that judgmental silence following them every inch of the way, Rena felt more and more childish, chiding herself for her assumptions.

I hadn’t even thought about how this might inconvenience my grandfather, or worse! I was so consumed with my own sorrow, my own misery, that it didn’t even occur to me what kind of trouble I might be bringing down on the Triple I Ranch. What if this causes an eruption between Father and Grandpa Albert, one that finally sets their years of tension and disagreement to a flashpoint, an explosion of who-knows-what? Each man was capable of great things, but that coin always had a reverse side. And once flipped, there was really know way of knowing which side it would land on.

And my grandfather will know that as well as I do, as well as Father does; actions will have to be taken. The only question is, what will those actions be, and who will have to pay the price for them, and how soon.

*

Thomas tried to stay quiet on the ride out of town and toward the Triple I. Cannot be flirting with the boss’ granddaughter, not on the first day she comes in. And who knows what she might make of even the simplest conversation?

It was too easy to imagine her running to Albert with any manner of misunderstanding about the friendliest comments. And who knows what that effect will have on Albert’s opinion of me? It’s been eight great years, he feels that way too. But a lot can change when family enters into it, female family especially.

Everything can change, and almost always does.

She may even have some hidden intentions I don’t see, Thomas had to admit as he thought more about it, about her. So strange that she turns up like this, without having announced herself? And Albert, sending me out with little explanation. Why didn’t he tell me she’s arrived under such strange circumstances? Is there something he’s hiding from me?

As they rode on, Thomas had to remind himself, Well, he is my boss, with every right of discretion and no obligation of disclosure. It’s for him to know, and for me to obey, or I’ll lose everything.

No, Thomas decided, best to keep my distance, do my job, and keep my head down. I can’t afford to be run off the Triple I Ranch. With nothing to bring and nowhere to go and nobody to call a friend, that … I can’t even think about it.

He stole a glance at Rena, who sat beside him, eyes set dead ahead, up or to the side; anywhere but meet his.

She really doesn’t seem as bad as I might have thought. She didn’t mean any offense back on the train platform, that’s obvious. She was actually kind of cute, flabbergasted as she was. Still, she sits there six inches from me on this helm like just making small talk would be some kind of federal offense! Does she think I’m so far beneath her station?

It was tempting to believe, but something about it clashed with Thomas’ instincts. There was more to her behavior than that, more to her story than he could imagine. And he didn’t want to imagine; he wanted to know.

Because there were other concerns creeping into the back of his brain, new puzzles that needed to be solved quickly.

Why would she come all this way without announcing herself, he had to ask again, unless she’s running … running from someone. Does Albert know? Does he know more than she may realize? What kind of action might he be forced to take against her, or in her defense?

How much defending will this girl need, and from whom?

They rode on and Thomas sighed. Do I dare presume to be her protector? Will I even be capable, against uncounted numbers, perhaps the whole of the crew at the Triple I Ranch? Do I dare back down, in any case?

Chapter Four

They rode up to the ranch, and Rena’s heart started to pound in her chest. The property was expansive and impressive, nothing like Philadelphia; the ranch seemed half the size of the City of Brotherly Love. A flock of sheep grazed on a foothill in one area of the ranch, other patches dedicated to chickens, pigs, fruit and vegetable gardens, servants’ quarters. sweetgum and silver maple rose up over the ranch in clusters, the grass swaying in waves with the breeze, a curtain of light green replacing the dark as the needles turned en masse.

Hands drifted around in the distance, taking care of any variety of ranch business. All Rena really knew was that she wanted to know more about that business. It was all such a striking contrast to Philadelphia; no crowded streets, no brownstone buildings, no wooden sidewalks or lampposts, or the people those lamps shone their light upon.

None of them.

But it was the people she was seeing who had Rena’s immediate attention.

Grandpa Albert and Grandma Helen stepped out of the big ranch house as they rode up to it. Rena’s blood rushed in her veins, a lump rising up in the back of her throat, heart beating faster as their familiar faces came into view. They were instantly familiar despite having not seen them for so long. For those years she’d had only memories of an increasingly distant visit from them back in Philadelphia. And they’d surely aged since then, gray hair replacing the brown that was so prevalent in the family.

They stood arm in arm, each waving with their free hand, slow and wide arcs to welcome her.

Grandpa Albert, she thought, Grandma Helen!

In the corner of her eye, she caught Thomas looking at her, wearing a serine smile she couldn’t really place. Is he … glad for my excitement? Why? Why not? But there was no way of knowing, and she hardly had the time or attention to think about it. Instead, she turned and nearly jumped off the carriage before it even stopped. Thomas pulled the horse to a deliberate halt, and Albert Olsen stepped up with both hands outstretched. He put one massive hand on each of her hips and helped her down with one bound, straight into her arms.

“Grandpa Albert!”

“Well, well,” he said, pulling her close and hugging her tight. “Look who we have here!”

“Don’t tease her, Albert!”

“Grandma Helen,” Rena said, wrapping her arms around her grandmother, much smaller than she’d expected. But she had the same glint in her eye that Rena remembered and a solid hug which spoke to all the years they’d been apart.

“What a gorgeous young woman you’ve become,” Helen said, touching Rena’s face, a tear crawling down her own, wrinkling cheek. “I … I can hardly believe you’re here!”

Rena turned to gesture in Thomas’ direction. “Your man Thomas here saw me home with the utmost protocol.”

“We had a thankfully uneventful return,” Thomas said to Grandpa Albert, “though the train was quite late.”

Rena waved it off. “In truth, I’m lucky it delivered me here at all! I can hardly believe that’s the future of the nation!”

Albert said to Thomas, “Thank you for taking care of this, Thomas. Why not take the rest of the day off?”

Thomas nodded, tipping his hat. “Your granddaughter’s bags need to be brought up to her room. There’s the new calf to see to, and that fence post I was to see to.”

Albert huffed and shook his head. “After those chores are seen to then.”

Thomas turned to Rena. “Pleasure to have met you … Miss Olsen.”

Though Rena had asked him to call her by her Christian name, she was glad he showed more discretion than that in front of her grandparents. He stepped toward the carriage to fetch Rena’s bag.

“Oh please,” Rena said, “you’ve been kind enough. I’ll see to the bag myself.”

Thomas replied, “You?”

“Well, I managed all the way from Philadelphia to the Willowcrest train station.” She stood, sensing his confusion but knowing it wasn’t the right time or place to straighten it out. They’d clear it up later, Rena was confident.

“I’ll take care of the bag,” Grandpa Albert said to all concerned before Thomas stepped away to his other chores. “Good man,” he said to Rena, who nodded in response.

Grandma Helen said, “Has it really been fifteen years? My Lord, how could we have let so much time go by?” But Rena knew the answer to that as well as they did, and it was not something she or seemingly either of them was ready to talk about. “I can still see the little girl you were, daisy chains in your hair, chasing butterflies and fireflies.”

“I never could catch one,” Rena had to admit.

“I wonder if there are any left in Philadelphia,” Grandpa Albert huffed.

“One butterfly fewer,” Helen said. She set her hands gently on Rena’s cheeks. “It’s so wonderful to see you again, such a blessing.”

Albert looked around and said, “Perhaps we should take this family reunion inside.” He took Rena’s hand with his right, his adored wife Helen’s with his left, and let them into his huge, rustic ranch house. It was like a log cabin had grown into a mansion, several stories high and four houses wide.

Inside, the house was open and airy, the door leading to a massive living room which led off to suites of rooms in both directions. A polished wooden staircase, to match the walnut floorboards, led to an open mezzanine above with another set of suited rooms. Yet another spiral staircase led to a third floor, smaller, the rooms protected from view by walnut slat walls.

Chandeliers were fashioned out of what looked like deer antlers, as ornate and decorative as they were wild and primitive. Candles flickered from inside glass casings, thick rope supporting the fixtures from the high wooden ceiling beams.

The walls were decorated with oil paintings of gorgeous landscapes; snowcapped mountains, grassy plains, picturesque streams and rivers.

The finest furniture was everywhere in the house, hutches and cabinets and overstuffed chairs and sofas in the style so fashionable in Europe.

The living room opened up with massive windows and French doors revealing the backyard and the plantation property stretching out beyond it.

“It’s just lovely,” Rena said. “You must be so happy here.”

Albert wrapped his arm around Helen’s shoulders. “How could we be otherwise?”

“And so happy to have you here,” Helen said to Rena, “Whatever or however …” But she trailed off, sad eyes turning to look up at her loving husband.

Rena could see that he understood the sadness she couldn’t disguise. His own smile melted away, and he turned to lead Rena wordlessly to the living room. He sat her down on the sofa, Rena in front of him and Helen clinging to him from behind as if for protection from some terrible truth.

“We received word from your father,” Albert said, his voice low and gravelly and humorless, grave with his sternness and authority. Rena’s stomach and heart both sank to imagine what he was about to tell her. “He guessed you’d be coming here.”

A long silence passed, Helen looking at Rena with arching brows and a sad frown. Rena could only say, “I sort of figured, but … I didn’t mean to … to cause you any undue problems with him, or … or with anything, really, I —”

Helen reached out and set a comforting hand on her arm. “It’s okay, child.”

“Well,” Albert said, “it’s not quite that easy. He insists that you be put on the first train back to Philadelphia, with a guard no less, to make certain you arrive on time and … in good health.”

“A guard?”

Albert answered, “An escort.”

“To keep me from escaping. Grandpa Albert, no, please!”

“He is your father,” Grandpa Albert said. “There are matters of decorum to consider, protocol.”

Helen shook her head. “Decorum, that’s for folks in Philadelphia and the like.”

But Albert calmly replied, “No, Helen, good form, honorable interaction, that’s every person’s yoke.”

“I … I didn’t mean to violate those things,” Rena said, “or to be … difficult for my parents. But, honestly, it seems as if their lives are nothing but protocol, decorum, and nothing deeper than that. I can’t live among them any longer, Grandpa Albert; I can’t, and I won’t.”

Helen pulled her husband closer, her arm weaved under his. “Please, Albert.”

“But don’t worry,” Albert said. “Rena, my angel, I know if you came all the way here, without even a word to us, that things for you must have become desperate.”

“They are, Grandpa Albert, truly they are!”

“And I’m going to get to the bottom of it. Rena, you’re our one and only granddaughter, didn’t you think we would do whatever was in our power to help you? Of course we would!”

“Oh, Grandpa Albert!” Rena threw herself into his embrace, arms wrapping around her to pull her close, Helen gently stroking the back of Rena’s head.

“There, there, child,” she said in a grainy, aged voice.

Rena’s heart and mind were swimming, relief pulsing in a warm wave through her body. But there was still the chill of doubt, so many things left unaddressed, questions not only unanswered but not even asked.

One question was ready enough: “What about my father?”

Albert said, “I will send him a wire, telling him you’ve arrived safely. The man oughtn’t have to worry for your well-being, after all.”

“As if he ever truly has,” Rena said.

“There now, Rena, do not disparage the man when he cannot defend himself. Beyond everything we’ve been through, he and I, he is still my son, after all.”

“I … I know,” Rena said bowing her head with shame both new and familiar. “I’m sorry, Grandpa Albert, I … I don’t mean to be disrespectful or selfish, I … I just didn’t know what else to do, or where else to go.”

“You came to the right place,” Helen said. “And as to why? It hardly matters as far as we’re concerned.”

Rena was glad to hear it, but she knew that their concern was not the only one she’d have to contend with. But at least she wouldn’t have to contend with it alone, and that made all the difference in the world.

Chapter Five

The meal was delicious, and the company was even better. The steaks were t-bone cut, juicy and tender, succulent and hot and flavorful on the back of Rena’s tongue. The green beans were buttery and crisp and colorful, perfectly roasted and dusted with ground pepper and kosher salt.

Her grandparents seemed to enjoy watching Rena savor the freshly tossed garden salad, dressing a tangy but uneasy mixture of both oil and vinegar, cool and bracing lemonade washing it all down perfectly.

As the heir to her father’s fortune, and as the lone child of the well-to-do Olsens of Philadelphia, Rena had enjoyed some of the best food the east coast had to offer; escargot and quiche Lorraine, Salmon from Alaska and lobster from Maine. She’d had pheasant served under glass and duck served in orange sauce. But she hadn’t enjoyed any of it as much as this meal. It had also marked the end of her long and uncomfortable journey, with bad food in terrible restaurants along the way, cafes buried under sleazy hotels, chewy bison and rotting potatoes, everything piled into pies and stews to hide its flavor and appearance.

But it was more than the food, it was the comfort of being back in friendly family arms. Rena was once more among those she loved and who loved her; those she knew and those who knew her despite the distance, despite the time.

The old couple’s servants came and went quickly and quietly, respectful almost to the point of reverence. Rena took note, knowing that their performance reflected well upon her grandfather. He clearly treated them well, with respect, and they in turn showed no fear but an eagerness to please. Rena knew that for her grandfather that would mean refraining from unnecessary foolishness.

But that was just how Rena still felt.

And once the small talk of friends and neighbors and various other experiences came and went, Rena found herself drawn by her grandparents to the subject of her family in Philadelphia. She didn’t want or mean to betray them to anyone, but she could not deny that Albert and Helen were still Keith Olsen’s father and mother, and they had a right to know what had happened and why Rena had showed up at their door the way she did.

“They spend all their time talking to other people,” Rena said, the scenes coming back to life in her tortured memory. “They’re always entertaining, going from one party or dinner or luncheon to the next. But when they’re alone, they hardly speak to each other at all. Perhaps that’s why they avoid that at all costs.” Albert and Helen shared a sad glance but said little as Rena opened up to them, even as the past opened up to her. “And that doesn’t do either of them any good. Eventually, they run out of parties, my father has to go gambling … and drinking.”

Albert leaned forward. “Has he … has he strayed, is that what you’re implying?”

Rena didn’t have to think about it for long. “No, oh no, I … I don’t mean that!”

“Your mother?”

“No, Grandma Helen, no.”

“No reason to be upset,” Albert said to Rena, “we just need to know what’s transpiring, what we’re dealing with or may have to deal with.”

Rena nodded, and she knew her grandfather was right again, as he so often was. He meant no insult to either of her parents, but prudence required a deeper understanding of the circumstances.

“When he’d drink, he’d sometimes take to a tirade, belittling me. At times I guess I deserved it … other times, just … not. It wasn’t my fault I wasn’t born to him a son! I am not the author of my own creation, surely! Between the two of us, he’d have more to answer for about it than I!”

“It’s the Lord’s province,” Helen said.

Albert asked in a low, gentle tone, “He never … hit you? After bouts of drinking or losing at the tables—?”

“No, heavens no. In fact, they hardly seem to know I’m alive at all. They … we had years of struggling over my life, my identity. And I finally did get my way. Maybe it’s true about getting what you asked for, but … at one point, after so many years of me demanding to make my own choices, they left me alone to do just that.”

A cold regret coursed through Rena, one she was all too familiar with even at only twenty years of age.

“Problem was, the young men in Philadelphia were … they just … they wanted things I didn’t want to give them, including my father’s fortune … especially that. And others, well, some were just thick, others perpetually angry. But given the chance to find what I was looking for, I just … I just couldn’t.”

Helen reached out from across the table, putting her hand on Rena’s wrist to give her a loving little squeeze. “You’re not the only one, dear.”

“I know, it … it just feels like I am, and in so many ways.” But true as that was, Rena knew it wasn’t that simple. That was why she often didn’t want to think about it. “So my parents, they … they seemed to lose faith in me, and I suppose I can’t blame them. But they also lost touch, with me as much as with each other, and that … that was what really hurt, I think. I … I thought maybe they were staying together for my sake, but … I know it’s just for appearances.”

Albert sighed and leaned back to lean against his beloved wife. “‘For this is what the Lord says: “Do not enter a house where there is a funeral meal; do not go to mourn or show sympathy, because I have withdrawn my blessing, my love and my pity from this people,” declares the Lord.’”

Helen said, “Amen.”

After a somber moment, Rena felt better, anxious to say, “I … I don’t want you to think I’m looking for a handout or anything.”

Helen repeated, “Handout?”

“I mean, I want to help out. I’ll help you around the house, Grandma, or …” She turned her attention to Albert, “Even learn a bit about ranching too. I … I think I’d quite enjoy that.”

Albert cracked a smile, but he crossed his arms in front of his expanding chest and belly. “You’d quite enjoy it?” Rena nodded, but she felt it fading fast. “It’s hard work, Rena, dangerous, sweaty, and dusty.”

Rena quickly reviewed the terms. “I … I’d like to learn if I could. Maybe … maybe this is my place, my purpose, what I failed to find in Philadelphia.”

“I took it that a husband was what you failed to find in Philadelphia.”

Rena turned, too bashful to face her grandfather head-on. “Among other things. But I tried to find opportunities for business, for —”

“For business? You’d have opened a business? Of what sort?”

“Almost any sort! There’s a wide and growing market for women’s fashions, men’s accessories, sundries, publishing —”

“Publishing?”

“All manner of pursuits. You … you disapprove?”

Albert and Helen glanced at one another before Albert shrugged and shook his head. “Actually … no, I … I’m impressed, and intrigued. No takers back east?” Rena only needed to shake her head. Albert seemed to think about it, new information coaxing him.

“My hands … they won’t be accustomed to … tutoring a novice,” he said, clearing his throat.

“So I assume.” Albert and Helen both cocked their heads to hear more. “Your man Thomas,” Rena explained. “Good man, but … kind of stoic, I thought it might have something to do with me.”

Albert seemed to give it some thought. “He’s given to … not melancholia, but … reflection, let’s say. But they’re all my hands, and they do as I tell them. All right, I’ll look into it, and we’ll discuss it further. But be assured, Rena, that if you see something worth striving for, something worthy of you, I’ll be there with you to help you achieve it.”

Rena couldn’t help smiling through her tears, happy trails running down her curling cheeks.

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“A Bet on Love and Hope” is an Amazon Best-Selling novel, check it out here!

Rena Olsen will not let her parents decide her fate. Taking her life into her own hands, she runs away from home and finds refuge in her grandfather’s ranch in Montana. Life is much simpler yet harder than what she was used to. There are upsides in this new beginning of hers, however, including a handsome ranch hand… Can she prove to him but mostly to herself, that she’s strong enough to survive in this lifestyle?

Thomas is like a second son to Rena’s grandfather and he takes his job very seriously. The last thing he wants is to have to babysit his boss’s beautiful, city-bred granddaughter. When the rest of the ranch workers make fun of him, he will make a bet that he’ll remember for the rest of his life. But as he gets to know Rena, he will realise that she is nothing like he expected. Will he be able to win the heart of the woman in the elaborate dresses?

Rena was running away from something, and she has nowhere else to go. Only love and faith can keep her safe. Can she and Thomas find common ground and let what is in their hearts come out to the surface?

“A Bet on Love and Hope” is a historical western romance novel of approximately 80,000 words. No cheating, no cliffhangers, and a guaranteed happily ever after.

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