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

by Lilah Rivers

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 4

  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 5

  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.”