Crimson Highway by David Wickenhauser (brene brown rising strong TXT) 📗

had more than enough height for Hugh to drive his 13’6” tall Freightliner underneath it, and through the gate.

“Wow!” Jenny exclaimed. “That is something!”

“Yeah, I’ve got a goodly amount of my own blood, sweat and tears in that thing,” Hugh said. “I helped build it.”

On both sides of the ranch name were burned giant versions of the ranch’s brand.

Anticipating Jenny’s question, Hugh explained that the brand was called “H M Connected.”

“Hugh Mann?” Jenny asked. “H M Connected, for the Hugh Mann Ranch?”

“That’s right,” Hugh replied. “That’s also my dad’s name. But, my dad likes to say it also stands for Hugh-Martha connected—because they are.”

“And, Martha is …?”

“My mom.”

“That’s sweet,” Jenny said.

More of the ranch came into view as Hugh maneuvered his truck up the quarter-mile-long serpentine driveway.

Hugh could see Jenny’s eyes getting real big as the main ranch house loomed before them. It was a log house but, more accurately, it was a log house on steroids. Constructed of massive birch logs, the huge house rose two-and-a-half stories, and was surrounded by a giant, wrap-around porch.

Beautiful plantings and rock-work accented the outside landscaping. Carefully thought-out tree plantings punctuated the whole look.

“It is beautiful,” Jenny exclaimed in awe. “It looks like a park.”

Then she caught sight of the horse stable, and the several horses that had come to the fence to see who had driven up the driveway.

“They’re beautiful!” she said breathlessly, almost unable to speak.

Hugh parked the truck, and gave a toot on the air horn. As they exited the truck, and jumped down onto the gravel driveway, a pretty, trim woman, who appeared to be in her middle fifties, came out of the house and stood at the top of the porch steps. She was drying her hands on her apron.

“My Lord, look who’s here,” she exclaimed. She ran down the steps, threw her arms around Hugh, and gave him a huge hug. She had to stand on her tiptoes to do it.

Out of the corner of his eye, Hugh could see Jenny standing off to the side. And he knew her well-enough by now to know that she was probably feeling like an intruder to this tender family moment.

“Well, Hughey, just look at you,” his mom said, holding his face with both hands. “My, but you just get more handsome every day.”

“Come on, Ma, stop it,” Hugh replied, but it was obvious that he was immensely enjoying this attention from his mom.

“Hughey, could you … ” Jenny started to say, but Hugh cut her off.

“Ma, I’d like to introduce you to Jenny McDonald. Jenny this is my mom, Martha Mann.”

“Pleased to meet you Mrs. Mann,” Jenny said, and offered her hand.

“Heavens, girl. It’s Martha. None of that Mrs. stuff,” she said, ignoring Jenny’s hand and giving her a big hug. “Or, on second thought, should you be calling me ‘Mom?’” she asked, and laughed, at the same time giving Hugh a sidelong glance.

 Before they could respond, Martha placed herself between Hugh and Jenny, then linked her arms in theirs, and marched them up the porch stairs, and into the house.

Hugh could tell that Jenny had quickly forgotten his mom’s little tease, as she encountered the foyer and great room of the large log house. She stood in awe of the huge double-wide set of curving stairs that led up to the second floor. The great room was indeed great—they could have held a ball in it. A giant, ranch-themed chandelier hung from the open-beamed, full-height cathedral ceiling.

“Oh, please forgive me,” Martha said, turning to Jenny. “You would probably like to freshen up after your long ride. Let me show you to the powder room.” She led Jenny off.

When Hugh’s mom returned, she walked up directly to Hugh and stood there with a “Well?” expression on her face.

“She’s just a friend, Ma.” Hugh said. “Actually, she’s not really even that. She’s just a hitchhiker I picked up a few days ago. She has nowhere else to go right now, and I couldn’t leave her. So here we are.”

“Uh-huh,” his mom said, skepticism written all over her face. “And why are you here, buster? What’s happened? I saw the smashed-up fender of the truck you drove up in.”

Hugh thought, as he had more than once before, that his mom knew him too well.

“It’s a long story, Ma, and I don’t want to get into it right now,” he answered, and then was saved from further questioning by Jenny’s return.

Martha was just getting dinner ready when Hugh had pulled in, so she invited them into the kitchen to chat with her while she finished up. Hugh and Jenny sat at the huge, hand-hewn birch trestle table that could probably seat twenty. Martha offered them coffee, which they gratefully accepted.

“Dad and Roly will be back any minute. And Mary is just finishing up in the stables,” Martha explained.

Hugh caught Jenny’s questioning look, and told her, “Roly is my little brother Roland. He’s… what? Mom… 24 by now? And Mary is my baby sister. She’s 18 going on 25.”

Martha and Hugh both laughed together at that.

Martha said, in explanation to Jenny, “I know that’s an unusual spread in ages for having kids, but that’s just what God gave us. And we couldn’t be happier about it.”

They heard footsteps on the porch, and a very pretty blonde girl who could have been a twin to Jenny came bursting in. “Ma, that truck! Is Hughey home?” Then she spied her big brother, and launched herself at him in a full-body bear hug.

Once he had untangled himself from her, he exclaimed, laughing, “Well, Sis, I see you haven’t lost any of your abundant energy.”

“No way, Bro. So, what are we going to do while you’re here?”

Even though Mary had just been born when Hugh had