A Love to Heal a Broken Heart: An Inspirational Historical Western Romance Book

by Lilah Rivers

  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 2

  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 i
s, 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 3

  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?