Snowbound in Montana Read Online Free Page A

behavior, whether she should be worried. Because frankly, right now, the bus seemed a lot wider than these roads they were travelling.
    As she glanced toward him, their eyes met and she quickly looked away, reassured by his calm countenance, but also not wanting to send any false signals of interest or overt friendliness.
    Shortly after driving through the small town of Dillon, the bus pulled off the main road onto an access road that seemed to go on forever. Super-narrow and twisty. She could hear the trees brush against the bus at times, they were that close.
    Finally, they arrived at a wooden lodge snuggled up against a back drop of ponderosa pine.
    Marshall stood to make a few announcements. “Welcome to Baker Creek Lodge. Betsy will have homemade soup and sandwiches waiting for you in the dining room. Don’t worry about your suitcases. They’ve been tagged and will be waiting for you in your rooms after lunch.”
    “What about our kids?” one of the fathers called out. “Are you tagging them, too, or do we need to bring them with us?”
    “Oh, dad,” groaned two girls, simultaneously, twins from the look of them.
    “You take the kids, Buck. We like to treat them as if they were people here at Baker Creek,” Marshall replied, taking the joke in good stride. “After lunch, I’ll take whoever is interested on an eight-mile intermediate loop that will give you a good idea of the kind of scenery you can expect during your five-day adventure. For those who want to spend the afternoon more quietly, Griff keeps a fire going in the common room, or you could try out the easy three-mile, ski loop that circles that lodge, goes down to the creek, then back up the far side of the ice-skating pond.”
    It all sounded heavenly, Eliza thought with pleasure. And the reality was better than the promise.
    The lodge itself, was simplicity and comfort all rolled into one. A nod had been given to Christmas—there was a tree, and a wreath on the large pine door. But the effort had been modest. And Eliza found herself ready to embrace that. The food, like the décor, focused on good ingredients, without too much ornamentation.
    After her meal, she went to her room, determined to change into her ski-wear and tackle that eight-mile loop. And though she suspected—no she knew—she’d been assigned one of the smaller rooms, the one quite possibly originally slated for Marshall McKenzie, she wasn’t disappointed. The pine bed, with its flannel-covered feather duvet, could not have looked more inviting. She even had a small balcony, with a view overlooking the skating pond.
    Snow was falling steadily once she made her way outside. She was glad of the extra layer she’d worn under her jacket, and for her new toque, as well, which had a fuzzy lining. The loud father, Buck Brackett, and the young couple, Jason and Sydney Kelly, were the only other guests interested in the longer ski.
    In his skin tight ski pants and jacket, Marshall looked simultaneously taller, thinner and more muscular that he’d seemed in regular clothing. He zipped around on his skis with the dexterity of a skater. How in the world did he do that without tripping over his skis?
    Eliza snapped her boots onto her skis feeling a little trepidatious. She hoped she wasn’t going to hold up the group.
    “Looks like we’re in for a dump of snow,” Marshall said. “We’ll do some quick warm-up exercises and then get moving, so we can be back by the fire before it gets much worse.”
    Eliza found the exercises, and the accompanying comments, very helpful.
    “It’s the weight transfer in skiing that allows you to glide,” Marshall explained. “You have to commit all your weight from one ski to the other.”
    Ten minutes later, he was leading the way down a double-track set path, followed by Jason and Sydney, and then Buck. Eliza took up the rear, gliding down the gentle hill, then starting to kick back and glide as the path leveled off and entered the thick, pine