A Creed in Stone Creek - Linda Lael Miller [115]
“This had better not be another intervention,” Melissa warned. She was still a little insulted by the whole concept, frankly.
Olivia was, as usual, completely undaunted. She’d once treated a wild stallion for injuries, up in the hills, and it took more than an irritated younger sister to throw her off her game.
“The last one must have worked,” she said, after looking Melissa over. “Your hair has been combed and you’re wearing makeup.”
Melissa made a face, but then she had to laugh.
“You’re impossible,” she said, addressing Olivia, Meg and Ashley, all together.
“Looks like the ice cream shop’s float is in trouble,” Ashley said, shading her eyes as she watched the giant cone, made of cardboard and crepe paper, teeter wildly to one side.
Meg pushed up the long sleeves of her fitted blue T-shirt. “Let’s go see what we can do to help before that thing falls over and spooks one of these horses or something,” she said to Ashley and Olivia. There were at least a dozen of the animals nearby, waiting to carry the sheriff’s posse on a triumphant sweep along the relatively short length of Main Street.
“Good idea,” Melissa said. And they were off.
The horses, as it happened, were doing just fine— Brad and his wranglers had brought them to town and unloaded them early for the express purpose of giving them time to get used to being off the range and in a fairly unfamiliar environment.
“They mean well,” Brad told Melissa, watching the three women march over to take charge of the giant ice cream cone and the overwhelmed junior management type trying to contain the thing.
“I know,” Melissa said, with a little sigh. Then, as a farewell, she added, “Later.”
“Later,” Brad confirmed.
It was surprising, Melissa discovered over the next couple of hours, how many things could go wrong with one small-town parade.
The convertible that was supposed to carry the mayor of Stone Creek, that year’s grand marshal, threw a rod.
The tractor supporting the Chamber of Commerce’s infamous toilet-paper float stalled out, and the teenage rodeo queen had to borrow a horse from Brad, because her own turned up lame.
And those were the easy things.
Nonetheless, Melissa found herself enjoying the distraction. At least, being so busy, she wasn’t brooding over her life in general and Steven Creed in particular.
By five minutes to six, all the participants had taken their proper place in line. The high-school marching band was in formation, tuning up their instruments for the umpteenth time. The sheriff’s posse, led by Tom Parker, of course, were all safely mounted on patient horses—the kind Meg and Brad generally reserved for inexperienced dudes.
The oversize ice cream cone had been stabilized.
Another convertible had been found to replace the one that had broken down earlier, so the mayor was riding high and all set to wave to the crowds on the sidewalks, and the rodeo queen was sporting a dazzling smile and plenty of sequins.
Ona Frame, well along the road to recovery after her gallbladder surgery, looked on from a place of honor.
It was all good.
“Melissa!”
She turned at the sound of her name and saw Matt Creed about half a block farther along Main Street, perched on Steven’s shoulders. They were clearly part of a group, Steven and Matt; a good-looking couple in their fifties, dressed Western, stood close by.
The man had to be Steven’s father, Melissa thought, distracted in spite of her better intentions. Same build, same hair color, same innate sense of quiet confidence. The sight of them all made her throat catch, for some reason, and caused the backs of her eyes to tingle slightly. She smiled and waved to the little boy, pretending not to notice the man, and