Betting on Hope

Chapter 27



The gray early morning light that filtered in around the edges of Hope’s curtains brought a new day but only fresh heaviness to her heart. She rolled away from the window, staring into the blackness of her room, not wanting to get up, not wanting to get out of bed at all.

She knew she should try to get up and appreciate the day. It would be one of the few mornings she had left at the ranch.

No one else knew yet. No one knew that she’d lost everything last night—the ranch, Faith’s business, their home. When she got back to the house, everyone had been asleep. She hadn’t wanted to wake them with bad news. It was too late to call Marty.

She didn’t remember getting home. The only thing she remembered was that when she got to the top of the long driveway and saw the full moon glowing silver in the indigo sky, casting a glittery sheen over the house and barn, she put her head down on the steering wheel and wept. How long she’d stayed out there, she had no idea.

Now it was dawn. Hope buried her head in the pillows, trying to bury her thoughts, as well. She’d have been better off if she hadn’t played poker at all. She should have just taken a week’s vacation and enjoyed her last moments at the only place she’d ever called home. Or packed and looked for an apartment. Instead, she had wasted a week playing cards. She earned a quarter million dollars, and then lost most of it in one evening. That had to be a record of some kind.

And worse, playing cards had proved how much like Derek she was. How callous she’d become about huge sums of money. She’d bet a half-million dollars on one hand, and she hadn’t thought twice about it, just like Derek.

And she’d lost.

Just like Derek.

And then there was Tanner. The man who’d stolen her heart and then the game.

Leaving her with nothing. Less than nothing.

Just like Derek.

She’d thought that she’d learned not to love handsome, charming, fun-loving men who cheated at cards and made you feel special only as long as it was convenient for them. But evidently, being scarred by heartbreak once was not enough.

She had to forget Tanner fast and move on. Before he could do anything more to her—anything worse.

Hope eased out of bed, her limbs aching and her throat thick and dry, and pulled on her jeans and boots, kicking the red halter dress to the back of the closet. That one was going to the thrift store before they moved. She never wanted to see that dress again.

The house was still silent. Normally Faith got up early to weed and water the vegetables, but since she’d sprained her wrist, she couldn’t do much. And now, of course, they could leave the vegetables in the ground to rot.

The horses were different. Hope had to take care of them until she found a buyer. If she found a buyer. Hope’s face twisted when she realized what would happen if she couldn’t find someone to take the animals—if she couldn’t even give them away. She had only two weeks to find them good homes. It wasn’t much time.

Hope moved through the quiet house, heading toward the kitchen to pick up an apple for herself and some carrots for the horses. When she got to the kitchen, though, she saw Faith was up. Remorse swept over her again.

“Hope?” Faith whispered. Her bright, eager eyes focused on her sister. “How did it go last night?”

Sorrow, regret, bitterness, and loss flooded through her, and Hope felt her expression crumple. Sobs rose from deep within her and caught in her throat.

“I—I lost, Faith. I lost the ranch. I’m so, so sorry.”

Faith’s face sagged as she stared at her sister. “You lost?”

Hope nodded as tears poured down her cheeks. She lifted her head and bit her lip.

“I was never going to win. Tanner told me. He cheated to make sure. The ranch stays with Big Julie.”

“Tanner played? And he cheated? Are you positive?” Faith dropped into a chair.

“Yes. I saw it. I’m positive.” Hope dashed the tears away, reaching for a tissue.

Faith looked lost. “What can we do now?”

“We don’t really have any options. I tried, I did my best. I’m just—so sorry I couldn’t save the ranch for us. I guess it was a bad idea for me to get everybody’s hopes up.”

“If Tanner cheated, there was nothing you could do. We know how that goes.” Faith tried a small smile, but her voice wavered.

Hope watched her helplessly, her own face wet with tears. She wanted to hug Faith, comfort her, but she felt so bruised and beaten herself, she had nothing left to give her sister.

I shouldn’t have let them think I could win, Hope thought as she left the kitchen and stumbled out to the barn. Now two card players have crushed this family.

Banjo tossed his head when he saw her, whinnying a hello.

“Hey, there, handsome,” Hope crooned, feeling a rush of love for her horse. Banjo’s loyal, she thought. He doesn’t cheat at cards.

She gave him the carrot, patting him, rubbing her hands over his chest and body, feeling his heavy muscles under the warm hide. Banjo turned his head, snuffling her pockets, nudging her gently.

“I’ve missed you,” she murmured to the horse. “Should we go for a run?” Before it’s too late. Before we can never go out together again.

Banjo nickered, tossing his head.

Hope wiped her eyes with the heels of her hands. She pulled the heavy wool blanket and worn Western saddle onto the horse’s back, cinching the saddle snugly, then slipped on the bridle. When she led Banjo out of the barn into the cool dawn, he pranced in anticipation.

“We don’t have much time together anymore,” she told him as she mounted. “Let’s make every minute count.” She turned the horse down the road toward the mountains and gave him his head. Banjo broke into a canter and then, feeling frisky, stretched out to run.

The cool morning breeze stung her face, and Banjo’s hooves churned up dust and grit that brought tears to her eyes. Hope leaned low over the horse’s neck, urging him to run faster. Her hair streamed out, blending with Banjo’s mane, as the horse pounded down the track.

Running wouldn’t solve anything, she knew that. She couldn’t run away from her problems or her memories.

But for a little while, just a little while, as Banjo’s strong legs thundered over the ground and carried her higher into the mountains, she could forget that it wasn’t the wind or the grit that made her cry. And she could pretend that the male animal she loved most in the world was a horse, not a man.



After her ride, Hope rubbed down Banjo and cleaned all the horses’ stalls, turning them out to the pasture. Then she went into the house, dreading what she’d find there.

Since both Faith and Amber were out of commission for many household tasks because of their hurt hands, Suzanne was putting out cold cereal before she went to work at the diner, which opened later on Sunday. All heads turned to Hope when she entered the kitchen.

“I’m sorry, mom,” she said again, hating that she was the person who let them all down. “I really tried.”

“We know you did, honey.” Suzanne put the cereal and milk on the table and wrapped her arms around her daughter. “Nobody blames you. You did the best you could.”

My best. Not nearly good enough.

“Now you can stay home at night with us,” Amber said, her bandaged hand propped on a pillow on the table.

Hope gave her niece a watery smile as Faith gave Hope a hug, too, and they clung to each other for a minute.

“Even you can’t fix everything,” Faith whispered. “We were wrong to put all the burden on you.”

“I thought I had a decent shot,” Hope said. “And I think I did until Tanner came along.”

“Will I get to keep Squeegee?” Amber asked anxiously.

“We’ll do our best, sweetie.” Hope let go of Faith and poured herself some coffee. “We’ll look for a place that allows dogs.”

“Squeegee’s a good dog.” Amber still looked worried. “Can Kenji and I still work on the cookbook?”

As Faith reassured her daughter, Hope thought about what she’d have to do this morning. Call the uncles. Try to find someone to take the horses. Find a new place to live. Every call taking away one more piece of the life she’d known. How could she do it? Just end her old life like that?

It happened. Suck it up.

The voice in her head was so loud that for a second Hope thought someone had spoken aloud. But then she realized—that voice was her old friend. The voice that was born the day her father never came home. The voice of determination.

You had to try, the voice said now. You failed. So what. There’s no shame in failure. Only in not trying.

She sniffed and reached for a tissue. She’d tried to save the ranch, and she’d failed. But she still had fifty thousand dollars from the week’s play that she hadn’t had to stake in Big Julie’s game. Maybe they could afford to buy a house. It wouldn’t be a ranch, but Amber could keep her dog. That at least would be something.

They all ate breakfast together and then Hope took a shower, put on clean jeans, and drove into the city. She wanted to say goodbye to the uncles. They’d all be leaving today, and she wanted to thank them again in person. Telling them on the phone about her loss—and Tanner’s betrayal—didn’t seem right. Marty would still be at the Golden Palace, probably playing one last hand and enjoying the four-ninety-five all-you-can-eat dim sum buffet. She found him at a cashier’s window, converting his chips to currency.

When she saw him, all her resolve and determination deserted her.

“Marty,” she said, and when he turned, his face bright and expectant, her face crumpled again. “I couldn’t do it.” Her voice caught on a sob. “I lost everything.”

Marty’s face fell. “Oh, no, Hope, honey, that’s too bad.” He patted her awkwardly on the shoulder, sounding like he’d rather be anywhere else. “Don’t cry, Little Hope. It’s all right. It’s not the end of the world. Come on, let’s get a drink. It’ll buck you up.”

“It’s not even noon!” Hope said, sniffing, wiping her tears away. “I just ate Cheerios!”

“There’s nothing like a stiff belt with an old friend to get you over hard times,” Marty said firmly, leading her toward the VIP bar.

In ten minutes, Hope was sitting in a deep leather lounge chair, a huge snifter of very old brandy in her hand. She tasted it. Very smooth.

“Now tell me,” Marty said. “Who played?”

“Everybody you said,” Hope said, “and one you didn’t guess. Tanner.”

Marty choked on his brandy. “Tanner played? He was the unknown?”

Hope nodded, feeling a little better. Marty was right. A stiff belt with an indignant old friend was picking her up.

“And I asked him to let me win the ranch,” she said, taking another sip of the brandy. “And he said no.”

“He said no?”

Hope nodded again, leaning forward a little and lowering her voice. “But the worst thing was, Marty, he cheated.”

Marty leaned back, putting his brandy snifter down carefully on the mahogany table next to his chair.

“I’m going to kill him,” he said.

Hope beamed at him. “Marty, I love you for that, I really do,” she said, taking another sip of the brandy. “But I don’t want you to get into trouble.”

Marty looked at Hope with sadness. “You like him, don’t you, Little Hope. I was afraid of that.”

Hope swallowed, feeling the wattage of her smile dimming. “Well—he helped last week. And—” she took a deep breath, “I guess I did like him. Until, you know. Last night.”

Like him. That was an understatement. But whatever they’d had was over, and he was gone, out of her life, gone, gone, gone. Over and out.

“Hope, honey—” Marty swallowed helplessly and looked away.

Hope shrugged, taking another sip of her drink. “It’s okay, Marty,” she lied. “It’s nothing I won’t recover from. I know better than to get involved with someone like that. Someone like Derek.”

“That low-down, lying, stealing, son of a—” Marty caught Hope’s glance.

“Snake,” he finished. “You’re sure you don’t want me to kill him?”

Hope grinned weakly. “He’s got a kid,” she said, “so, no. The weird thing is, Marty—”

“What?”

“I don’t know. I’ve been thinking about it. Tanner cheated, I saw him. How he picked up the discards and culled the high cards and then did that riffle shuffle, when he palmed the cards—everything. But he wasn’t benefiting from the cheats. Or not by much. He was ahead of me in the chip count, but mostly Big Julie benefited.”

“Big Julie benefited? You’re sure?”

“I know what to look for, Marty. I know what I saw.”

Marty crossed his legs and took another sip of brandy.

“Big Julie was the chip leader.”

“Yes.” Hope wondered what Marty was thinking.

“Huh,” Marty said.

“What?” Hope asked, finishing her brandy.

“Nothing,” Marty said. “I don’t know. You’re right, it’s strange.”



After three brandies in the VIP lounge, Hope was feeling quite a bit better, and by the time Marty called the other uncles in to share a lunch of beer with potstickers, Mongolian beef, garlic spinach, and long-bean prawns, she was feeling almost optimistic.

“Next time you’ll take Tanner,” Marty said confidently, when the story of Hope’s loss and Tanner’s cheating had been told again to the shock and disgust of the rest of the uncles. “You’re plenty good enough.”

“Bing-bing-bing!” Sharp Eddie said, spearing his fifth potsticker.

“You had a hell of a week,” Isaiah Rush said. “One for the books.”

“Truly brave and brilliant play,” Weary Blastell said, pouring beer for everyone.

“I’ve never seen anything like it,” Pete Wisniewski said.

“Your tremendous aptitude for the more esoteric points of play are indicative of a truly strategic style,” Jim Thickpenny said. “Should you ever contemplate undertaking a career in professional gaming, we have more than creditable evidence that you will find optimal success.”

“Thanks, you guys,” Hope said, draining her glass and setting it down with a thump. “I appreciate everything you’ve done for me all week, more than you know. Coming out here—everything.” She beamed fuzzily at the uncles.

“To Hope!” Weary said. All the uncles raised their glasses, while Hope, humbled and grateful, felt tears spring from her eyes.

“Come on, now,” Marty said, handing her a clean paper napkin. “Don’t get weepy. I’ll drive you home. You’re skunked.”



The uncles had made her feel a lot better, so after Marty and Weary took her home, Hope decided she could start her most difficult moving task. She had to find a place for the horses. She sat down and picked up the phone.

Hope sold Banjo with her first call to the riding stable down the road. Banjo would hate all the amateur riders sawing at his mouth and kicking him in the ribs, but his new owners were decent people and knowledgeable about horses. And she could still go out and ride him sometimes.

After promising to deliver him in two weeks, she hung up and cried.

But Blondie and Ralph were much harder to find homes for. Blondie was gentle and good with children, but she was old and needed frequent veterinary care. Ralph didn’t have a mean bone in his body, but his bouncy gait made him almost impossible to ride. Who but the McNaughtons would want a horse no one could ride? Hope spent three fruitless hours calling ranches, stables, and riding clubs. No one would take the horses.

She buried her head in her arms and cried again, defeated. These animals were like family to her. Blondie and Ralph looked to her for comfort and attention, and she was betraying them. She was terrified to think about what might happen to them if she couldn’t find homes for them.

Faith set a sandwich on the table next to her. “I’m sorry about the horses,” she said.

Hope nodded and sniffed, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. “I’m sorry about the farm.”

They were silent a moment, thinking about their losses.

“Your cell phone’s been ringing all afternoon,” Faith said finally. “Want me to get it for you?”

“Sorry,” Hope said. “I thought I’d turned it off. It’s probably Tanner.”

“He sure wants to talk to you.”

“And I sure don’t want to talk to him.”

Faith eyed her sister. “You know, he might have had a reason for cheating in that game.”

“Maybe he did. Derek always did.”

“Hope—”

“I can’t talk to him, Faith. The ranch is gone. Whatever he wants to say, the ranch is still gone. Anyway, he’s Derek all over again. A slick card player. I just can’t.”

“You like Marty. And the rest of the uncles. They’re card players.”

“But the uncles are all business. They’re stand-up guys. They’re pros.”

“Tanner’s a pro.”

“Tanner’s more of a professional con artist. And—” Hope couldn’t bring herself to say the words. She stared blindly at the red and yellow flowered oilcloth that covered the table. Faith pulled out a chair and wrapped her arms around Hope’s shoulders, and Hope crumpled under the weight of her sister’s sympathy.

“I like him,” Hope said, her voice breaking. “Tanner, I mean. Really like him. He’s sparkles and chocolate. For a little while, I just—I thought—I just wanted—” She reached blindly for a tissue and Faith pushed the box closer.

“I knew it was a bad idea,” Hope said, wiping her eyes. “I just couldn’t seem to stop myself.”

“Oh, Hope, I’m so sorry,” Faith said as Hope trembled with loss.

“I’ve known him for a week,” Hope hiccupped. “And since then, between him and Derek, we’ve lost the ranch, the vegetable farm, the horses, and we don’t have a place to live. Imagine if I’d known him a year.”

“We’re not doing real good right now,” Faith agreed. “It’s not all Tanner’s fault, though.”

“It’s not just that Tanner lied and cheated,” Hope sniffled. “That was bad. Really bad. But it’s not just Tanner.”

She blew her nose. “It’s me.”

Her head felt thick and heavy. “I bet a half-million dollars on a throw of the card. A half-million dollars, Faith! On one hand. Think what we could have done with a half-million dollars.”

“You didn’t steal the rent,” Faith said. “Anyway, Big Julie wouldn’t have let you cash out of that game. He wouldn’t have let you come home with the half-million. And Hope—” She stroked her sister’s hair until Hope met her eyes.

“The ranch is gone,” Faith said. “But if you wanted to earn more money for yourself—for us—you could keep playing cards. Turn pro. You burned up the tables this week.”

Hope sniffed back tears, squaring her shoulders, facing facts.

“Tanner’s not the only one who’s just like Derek,” she said. “I am, too. I liked it, playing like that. I liked it too much. I don’t want to be like that. I don’t want to be addicted to cards or casinos or anything like that. And Tanner brings that out in me.”

Faith looked doubtful. “Well, it seems a shame to give up the sparkles and chocolate and whatever made you sing during the dishes on Saturday night. Are you sure there’s not some way you could—work it out with him somehow?”

Hope sighed, wiping away the last of her tears.

“I don’t see how. We’re oil and water. Card players and chief financial officers. They don’t mix.”

Faith stood up. “Well, let’s think about it,” she said optimistically. “Even if we’ve lost the ranch, I’m not sure you should have to sacrifice Tanner, too.”

“It’s not a sacrifice,” Hope said, trying not to sound woebegone. “It’s self-preservation.”

Faith looked at her sister with sympathy. “Speaking of self-preservation, you look beat. You got in so late and got up so early. Why don’t you take a nap until supper time?”

She was beat, Hope realized, and a nap sounded like a good idea. She’d need her rest for the changes—the downsizing—that was still to come.