EVERY FUTURE BRIDE HAD SOME MISGIVINGS.

"Tomorrow," Rose called over the sound of running bathwater. "We are getting out of here tomorrow. No matter what."

Francisca stood at the bathroom door and tried to sound comforting. "You will feel better after you have soaked those sore muscles, Aunt Roro, I just know it." She also knew that Bobby was on the brink of proposing-this time for real-and she wanted to be in the same state when he did, not on the other end of a telephone.

"Muscles have nothing to do with it," Rose insisted. Francisca heard the water shut off, then a contented sigh as her aunt lowered herself into the tub.

"Better?" Francisca asked.

"Umm. Remind me never to get on a horse again."

"It wasn't that bad," Francisca said, trying to contain her laughter. Her thighs felt as if she'd been riding for a week, but she wasn't going to admit to her aunt that ranch life didn't suit her perfectly. She would never tell anyone that she was afraid of horses, that she'd pretended interest in an outhouse to delay getting back on the animal's back, that Bobby's kisses were the only reason she'd enjoyed the moonlight ride.

Surely every future bride had some misgivings about her upcoming change of lifestyle. But this was something that she couldn't discuss with her aunt.

"Francisca, are you still out there?" Rose wondered.

"Yes." Francisca remembered she was supposed to take Pookie outside one more time before bed, so she walked over to the bed and scooped the sleepy animal into her arms. "I'm taking Pookie right now," she said, anticipating her aunt's next question.

"Thanks. I'm not sure I could walk down the stairs and then back up again tonight," Rose admitted.

Francisca wasn't so sure she could manage, either, but she kept her complaints to herself. She was going to be a good ranch wife if it killed her, and besides, Bobby was going to walk with her in front of the house while Pookie found just the right spot in which to do his business. If they were lucky, Pookie would take his time.

The little dog nuzzled into her neck while Francisca waddled down the hall to the stairs. Bobby was going to propose, she was going to say yes, and Aunt Rose would finally see that her niece had grown up into a woman able to make her own decisions.

Her own *good* decisions.

"Aunt Roro is going to have to stay for the wedding," she whispered into pookie's ear. "And you can carry the rings."

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