Meg's Best Man: A Montana Weekend Novella by Cynthia Bruner Page B

line dancing or chasing women?
    Catherine interrupted the commotion. “Well, we all know that Texas is where the real cowboys are.”
    No, Aunt Catherine wouldn’t do that to her, would she? Some stories were meant to fade into obscurity, and hers was definitely one of them. She could feel her own face starting to get hot.
    Joshua’s eyes grew wide and he started laughing, which was not pretty because he had just taken another bite of hamburger. “I almost forgot about that!” he said. Everyone else at the table looked confused.
    Meg shot Catherine a pleading look, but she knew it wouldn’t do any good. “One summer Meg said she wanted us to all go to Texas so she could meet a real cowboy.”
    That started a cacophony of laughter and a flurry of fork waving. “I was ten,” Meg said, but she was pretty sure no one heard her. She shook her head and laughed at herself. She could barely remember her reasoning at the time, but it had something to do with a movie she’d seen. Since she was a member of a family with cattle ranching in their blood, the story might live forever.
    Gage turned to her with his trouble-causing grin. The second things were quiet enough, he said, “Did you ever make it to Texas?”
    She shook her head, feeling like she was being set up for a punch line.
    “Then that pretty much makes me your dream come true.”
    More groans and laughter followed, during which Meg said, “You line dance and haven’t got any cowboy boots. You can’t possibly be a real cowboy.” His grin never wavered. “Darlin’, I’ve got another pair, and I’ll go clogging in them if I have to.”
    Soon after dinner Sonya took over. As a pastor’s wife, she had perfected the art of gently coercing people, and her skills were on display this evening. The wedding invitation had encouraged all musicians to bring their instruments. Now Sonya sent the musicians off in search of one, and in record time she had them playing a simple folk tune with just four chords. It was lively and sounded vaguely Celtic to Meg. Things didn’t seem to be going well for the anticlogging crowd.
    It was the most beautiful time of day. The sun was low in the west but not yet setting, the scattered wildflowers were still blooming, but there was a hint of a cooler breeze. It smelled of new, growing things. Things down on the flats were heating up, but June in the mountains of Montana was still springtime.
    Soon everyone else was summoned to the “dance floor,” the part of the meadow that would be the aisle of a wedding chapel the next day. Sonya told everyone to find a partner, and Gage instantly took Meg by the elbow. “This is part of my valet duty,” he assured her. Sonya had everyone line up across from their partner, women and girls on one side and men and boys on the other. It was a motley bunch of dancers, with kids and grandparents and complete strangers paired up. Those who tried to hide were lured in by whatever charm, or threats, Sonya felt it necessary to use.
    She had every other couple switch places to mix the boys and girls. Now Meg was standing across from Gage and between Caleb and Joshua. “This looks like square dancing,” Joshua said.
    “This isn’t a square, it’s a rectangle,” Caleb corrected his brother.
    Sonya informed everyone that they would be doing four, count them, four moves, and anyone on earth could learn that many. She also said they’d better learn them because they would do them over and over again for the next twenty minutes.
    She called it contra dancing. For the first move, everyone stepped forward, passed in back of their partner, and backed up to where they were. It took a ridiculously long time for everyone to get it right, which made them all laugh. For the second move, the women turned to the man on their left and they both got into a ballroom dancing position and turned around one and a half times. There were two more moves, and when all the moves were completed in order, Meg and Gage had