Best-Laid Plans

As they neared the ranch, the landscape was gorgeous, with rolling hills and scattered trees. It was beautiful in winter, but it would be much more so when the trees gained color. They passed under an arched gateway that read "The Marsh Ranch". Following a long drive that consisted of little more than two ruts worn by vehicle tires, they came to the Marsh ranch. The house was a two-story building with a wide wraparound porch. It stood picturesquely against a timbered background of pines. A slender woman in a coat and cotton dress waved to them from the clothesline beside the house. As they climbed out of the car, a screen door squealed on the front porch and a short stocky man emerged, running a hand through graying hair. Neither of them bore any resemblance to Brandon.

All the same, Brandon introduced them as his parents - and Adrienne as a friend he had met in Tulsa.

"Well," Mrs. Marsh said. "I have supper on, if anyone is hungry."

Brandon raised a brow at Adrienne. "I'm hungry, and Adrienne says she's always hungry."

Mr. Marsh eyed her frame skeptically. "Maybe so, but what does she eat? Health food?"

Mrs. Marsh smiled at Adrienne. "Oh, don't mind him. The doctor said his cholesterol was high and told him to lay off the fats." She rolled her eyes. "It hasn't been easy - for either of us."

Mr. Marsh grunted. "What's the point of living to a ripe old age if you can't enjoy yourself? I'll take their stupid pills, but I'm going to eat what I like. My father lived to be ninety years old, and he never went on no fat diet. They probably got my blood sample mixed up with some old codger that sets at a desk all day."

They followed his parents into the house and Adrienne hesitated at the dining room door. She was imposing. This was his family - the supper was meant for him.

Brandon glanced down as he stepped around her and then grabbed her arm

She smiled up at him mischievously. "So that's why you brought me here. A mercy mission?"

He cuffed her shoulder playfully. "Let's not get into that again. I always wind up with my foot in my mouth."

He held her chair as she took a seat and then sat quietly as Mrs. Marsh said grace. After that, it was ‘each man for himself. Mr. Marsh proved that he was on no diet. Fried chicken, gravy, biscuits - did they eat like this all the time?

Among Mrs. Marsh’s attributes was mind reading. She pushed a bowl of mashed potatoes toward Adrienne and smiled warmly.

"You're probably not used to eating like this, but when you're cooking for men . . ." She shrugged. "We were delighted when Brandon called and told us he was bringing a friend." She glanced at Brandon. "I can't imagine why he didn't tell us his friend was a pretty girl."

Adrienne laughed and glanced at Brandon. "Oh? Where's the pretty girl? Stowed in the trunk?"

Brandon scowled at his mother as he handed her the tray of fried chicken.

"Don't get her started. She'll go on and on about how ugly she is. You've never seen the like."

Mrs. Marsh looked startled. She glanced at Adrienne again. "Nonsense. You're a lovely girl, and I won't permit you to put yourself down at my table."

Fair enough. She didn't want to talk about herself anyway. She plunged into the food on her plate, discovering that Brandon wasn't bragging about his mother's cooking. It was pure fact.

No one spoke for a while as they sliced the edge off their hunger. Finally Mrs. Marsh broke the silence.

"How did you two meet?"

"Well," Adrienne began, and then paused when Brandon cleared his throat.

"She's one of my room mates," he confessed.

Mr. and Mrs. Marsh stared at her for a moment and finally Mr. Marsh spoke.

"Well, I'll be darned. I never would have figured . . ."

Mrs. Marsh interrupted. "It's nice to know Brandon lives with people he can trust, don't you think, Fred?"

Mr. Marsh shrugged. "I suppose so." He continued to stare at Adrienne while he spoke to Brandon.

"So why didn't you bring up the other two? What do they do for a living?"

Brandon blushed at the implication. "We're all holding down jobs and going to school, Dad. We save a lot of money by pooling our rent. Julia is studying law and Rachel is majoring in business."

Mr. Marsh snorted. "Men's jobs. What's this world coming to? Nobody stays at home to look after the kids any more. Nowadays they cart them off to some baby sitter they hardly know, just to get the kids out of their hair."

Brandon squirmed in his chair and avoided Adrienne’s gaze. What was he thinking, dragging her into this? Surely he must have known his father would disapprove of her. Well, if Brandon wasn't going to come to her aid . . . She smiled sweetly at Mr. Marsh.

"I wonder if you'd still feel that way if your child was sick in the hospital."

Mr. Marsh stared at her, his expression unreadable.

Brandon cleared his throat again. "Adrienne is studying to be a pediatric nurse. She's working at the hospital to pay for her education."

Mr. Marsh rubbed his jaw and continued to study her thoughtfully. Finally he shrugged.

"I reckon that's something that needs to be done, and them children would be better off with a woman looking after them." He scratched his jaw reflectively and his eyes brightened with an idea. "But what you going to do when you have children of your own?"

Maybe it was his arrogant demeanor, or the way he took everything so serious. Whatever the reason, she felt compelled to answer flippantly.

"I guess I'll have to make sure I marry a man who'll stay home with the children."

Brandon nearly choked on his tea, and Mrs. Marsh stared at her plate, not completely hiding a smile. Mr. Marsh glared at her for a moment, and then his gaze slowly warmed. He grabbed a butter knife and began spreading jelly on a biscuit. Finally he glanced at his wife.

"Or get a mother-in-law to baby sit the kids."

Brandon focused his attention on the food in his plate, his face turning a dark shade of red. It served him right, sitting there like that with barely a word in her defense. At the moment, she was fervently wishing she had stayed home.

Mrs. Marsh eyed her son distastefully and then shifted her attention to her husband.

"Well, any mother-in-law who isn't willing to baby-sit her own grandchildren isn't much of a grandmother. I hope Adrienne marries a man who will give her the help she deserves. Nowadays men don't think it's beneath their dignity to help around the house and watch the kids."

Adrienne expected a sharp response from Mr. Marsh, but he only regarded his wife thoughtfully for a few moments. Finally he lifted his glass of tea in a half salute to her.

"I guess sometimes a man doesn't show much appreciation for what he has."

The subject ended there. Mr. Marsh was the undisputed king of the castle, but he obviously acknowledged his wife as the queen.

That night Adrienne slept in the guestroom and Brandon slept in his old room. The old house groaned with each gust of wind, but it felt like a happy house. Brandon was fortunate to have been raised by two people who cared as much about each other as they cared for him. Like her parents, Mr. & Mrs. Marsh had the kind of marriage she would like to have some day – happy.

With that thought, she nestled down into the bed and fell asleep.

It seemed that she had barely dropped off to sleep, before someone was pounding on her door. She opened her eyes to find it was daylight.

"Adrienne? Are you awake? Come on. I want to take you out to the north pasture before we leave today."

"I'm awake," she moaned as she rolled out of bed. She threw the covers back and gasped as her feet hit the cold floor. “It's freezing in here!"

Brandon chuckled. "It's warm in the kitchen, and breakfast is ready. Hurry up."

She grabbed her sack of clothes and scrambled into jeans and a sweater. Tugging on her socks and sneakers, she made the bed and left the room.

The breakfast atmosphere was much better than supper. Maybe they had time to get over the shock. Brandon should have told them, and when they finally made it to the barn, she said as much.

He threw a saddle on a reddish brown horse and nodded

"You're right. I just didn't think ahead."

That was unusual for Brandon. She watched him tighten a strap around the horse's belly.

"You know," she said. "You might have said something in my defense last night, instead of sitting there like a lump on a log."

He glanced up, a twinkle in the charcoal gaze.

"You seemed to be doing well enough on your own. You got his stamp of approval, you know."

She stared at him. "Stamp of approval? For what? And what in the world makes you think that?"

He shrugged. "He likes you. I know Dad." He lowered the stirrup and smiled. "Now get over here and I'll give you a hand up."

"Don't get bossy with me, Mr. Marsh."

He grinned. "Would you mind to step over here ma'am, so I can help you up on this magnificent animal?"

She eyed the horse skeptically. "He looks awful big. What if I fall off?"

"Then you get back up and climb on him again."

So that was how he broke his nose. She wiped clammy hands on her pants and moved toward the horse. It turned its head and watched as she placed a foot in the stirrup. As she swung into the saddle, the horse sidestepped. She grabbed Brandon's shoulder to keep from falling. A strong hand clamped on her arm. His voice was gentle as he instructed her.

"Easy there. You've got it. Now put your other foot in the stirrup. There you go. Now that wasn't so hard, was it?"

She scowled down at him, her heart beating a mile a minute. "It wasn't that easy, either - and we're still in the barn. What if she starts running when we get out in the field?"

"He," he corrected. "And he won't run - not even if you flog him. He turned and mounted his horse in one lithe movement. "You lay the reins against one side of his neck, like this.” He instructed. “This side when you want him to go right, that side when you want him to go left. Nudge him with your heals to get him started and pull gently on the reins when you want him to stop. Don't saw on the reins. Now, are you ready?"

"No," she answered sourly. "But don't let that stop you."

He grinned. "You'll do fine. Come on."

They rode across the pasture and entered a path through the forest. Brandon rode ahead of her most of the time, dropping back beside her when they emerged from the forest. He smiled at her.

"You're beginning to enjoy it, aren't you?"

She nodded. "It's beautiful out here, and riding up here, I feel so . . . connected. Isn't that silly?"

He dropped a hand to her knee. "Not at all. It kind of puts you in touch with reality. Kind of humbling, don't you think?"

She turned her head and stared across the pasture, acutely aware of the warmth of his hand on her leg. Why did he bring her here? Then, again, if he did want to talk to her about something, this was the perfect opportunity. She glanced back at him.

"So this is where you come to unwind. Don't you feel lonely? Don't you ever wish you had someone to share your troubles with?"

His gaze was fixed on hers. "I do. I have you."

Without intending to do so, her gaze fell to his hand on her knee. He removed it, coloring again. Obviously he had forgotten it was there and he thought she had misread his intent. She stretched; realizing her back was getting sore.

"Well," she said. "You can always talk to me about your troubles, you know. I won't say anything to anyone."

His eyes mocked her. "Is that a fact?"

Her face flooded with warmth. "I didn't mean to pry. You just seem to be troubled, lately. I thought you might want to talk about it."

The gaze lost its humor and he grimaced. "I thought about it, but now that we're here, it all seems kind of stupid."

"What?"

He shook his head. "It doesn't matter." He turned his horse around. "We'd better go back. You're going to be too sore to walk tomorrow."

She scowled at him. "I'm not a pansy, you know. We haven't even been out for an hour yet."