Meg's Best Man: A Montana Weekend Novella Read Online Free PDF

surrounded by women.”
    There was a chorus of responses that seemed to run about fifty-fifty for each side. The conversation degenerated from there as everyone debated whether it was strategically better to be on the smelly team because of the intimidation factor or if being on the smelly team could deplete your oxygen supply and make it harder to win. She tried to catch a glimpse of Leah, but Gage was blocking her view.
    Please, God, let Leah know we want her to be part of the family , she prayed. For the first time Meg wished that Leah’s real maid of honor Brie wasn’t sick, not just because she would be free of the dress and all the rest, but because she didn’t want Leah to feel alone. Leaving her home to move to Montana was a big enough sacrifice as it was.
    She felt an almost itchy feeling. She was pretty sure Gage was staring at her again. He even sat taller than her, so there was no way to sneak a peek to be sure unless she was willing to look straight up into his face. She wasn’t. His voice sounded very close when he said, “I’ll make a bet with you.”
    “I don’t make bets.”
    “If I stay dry, you tell Josh and Leah about Mouse. If I get dunked, I’ll be your personal valet for the rest of the day.”
    Meg finally turned her face up to his. He was uncomfortably close, but he didn’t seem uncomfortable at all. “I don’t need a valet.”
    “You might like it. I’m pretty handy.”
    Meg glanced down at her flattened messenger bag. “I noticed that.”
    He gave her that same grin, that invitation to trouble. She had absolutely no idea what he was thinking, but it didn’t bode well for her.
    There was a large dirt parking lot just down the road, a remnant of the old cattle loading chute and corrals. The wood structures there were still standing. In fact, they were still straight. Her grandparents and great-grandparents had built the corrals, and the cabin, to last. Most of the vehicles followed Joshua down to the lot, and soon everyone was gathered. Even Meg’s aunts and uncles were there, and she was grateful her uncle Jacob was wearing jeans and not shorts. She had seen him in shorts once before and had almost been blinded by his sun-starved legs.
    Really, it was a silly sight. Everyone who knew about this particular Parks family tradition was wearing some odd combination of swimming and hiking clothes. Some were smart enough to bring gloves, and Meg wished she had. One year the tug-of-war left her with blisters and a rope burn where she had stubbornly wrapped the end of the rope around her wrist.
    They walked a half mile down to where a footbridge crossed the creek below Little Canyon, a place where the creek had found a path through granite, probably along an old fault line. The creek behaved itself through most of the valley, meandering and flooding a wide basin that left easy access for cattle, but here it hit a granite barrier, and when it finally emerged from the canyon, the water pooled in a wonderful, deep swimming hole.
    Wedding guests crowded the little footbridge and probably taxed its strength, but the bridge had been tested before and it was still standing. Joshua’s team was on the far side of the creek. She and Leah walked to the other side, the steep side. Meg preferred it. It was better to hit water if you got pulled in than it was to land face first in the muddy slope on their side. She winced at a memory of it.
    Jacob, Joshua’s father, lined up at the end of the rope on the far side, with Joshua just in front of him. They’d be the last to go in if they lost. Cadence and two of Joshua’s buddies offered to ferry the rest of rope across to their own side, and after a lot of flirting and splashing they managed to toss the other end up onto the rocky ledge. Catherine took hold of her end of the rope and led Leah backward away from the edge.
    The trash talking was in full swing now. As the slack in the rope that hung over the swimming hole was pulled taut, everyone’s