By Annette Bridges
My mamma used to tell absolutely everyone who learned I was getting married and moving to my husband’s cattle ranch that she didn’t send me to college to get my hands dirty. At the time I had no idea what she was worried about. I wasn’t planning on getting any part of me dirty. I was simply going to live with my husband on his family’s ranch. Yes, I guess I was going to be a rancher’s wife, but I had my own career dreams that didn’t include working cattle. Did I say I wasn’t planning to get my hands or any other part of me dirty?
I was a city girl in love with a country boy. It was quite romantic to me. I adored his simple charm with his impeccable good manners and sincere chivalry. I loved his farmer’s tan and sexy cowboy hats. He wasn’t a man of many words, but his love was felt and expressed in his unconditional actions.
There was no doubt he loved me as much as I loved him. Ours was a love at first sight story that I wholeheartedly believed was written in the stars. We met in line for a ride at Six Flags Over Texas. There was instant chemistry and connection. He left with my phone number and I went home and called my mom to proclaim that I had met the man I was going to marry, and that is exactly what happened seven months later.