Page 80 of Highland Storm

Hawke ran down to the field with everyone following him. He’d be lying to himself if he said he wasn’t nervous. All the MacNabs and even the Madmen MacKeefe – his friends’ fathers were there. Not to mention, his family, his new children, Phoebe’s father and family, and to top it off that danged chronicler and his daughter. The last thing he wanted them to write in that silly book was that he lost a caber toss to his father on his wedding day.

“Hawke, ye go first,” said Storm, brushing his hands together. He was the champ at this event. But Hawke was about to beat him, and he wouldn’t take it well.

“All right,” said Hawke. Logan and Ethan helped him to lift the caber. Hawke concentrated hard to do his best. Tossing the caber, it flipped end over end. The throw was perfect. Everyone cheered and clapped.

“Guid work, Hawke,” said Callum, shoving a tankard of whisky in his hand.

“Aye, no’ bad,” said Storm. “But now I will throw the caber even farther.” Storm turned and spoke to the chronicler. “Did ye ken that I have won the caber toss for thirty years now?”

“Thirty years?” asked Bridget, seeming very impressed. “Did ye hear that, Faither?”

“I did,” said the chronicler, grasping the book.

“No one has ever beaten me,” bragged Storm.

“Until today,” Hawke mumbled under his breath. “Go on, Da. Throw the caber. And remember we are only doin’ one toss so make it count.”

“Son,” said Storm with a smile and a shake of his head. “I dinna need more than one throw.”

“Storm, just toss the caber so everyone can eat,” called out his wife.

Logan and Ethan helped Storm get the caber in place. And just as he held it up, Apollo landed on top, thinking it was a perch.

“Shoo! Get off of there, ye crazy bird,” yelled Storm, wavering back and forth with the pole, trying to get the bird to leave.

“Hawke, are no’ ye goin’ to call yer bird?” asked Phoebe from next to him.

“Apollo is a free spirit. He’ll leave when he’s guid and ready,” said Hawke with a huge smile, thanking his bird silently.

Then, to make matters even worse for Storm, Caleb’s pine marten ran between Storm’s legs, almost setting him off balance. The crowd oohed and aahed as Storm almost lost the pole but managed to right the heavy thing again.

Then Ethan’s wolfhound and Logan’s wolf ran right past Storm on either side, and Caleb was right behind them. “I’ve almost caught Marty!” shouted Caleb, looking up at Hawke instead of where he was going. “I’ll have yer rings back momentarily.”

“Caleb, watch out,” someone yelled from the crowd.

Caleb stopped short of hitting Storm, holding his hands in the air. “Sorry,” he said, and continued to chase after the animals.

With all the distractions, Storm couldn’t concentrate. And by the time the hawk flew away, the caber was getting so heavy that his throw was a bad one and not nearly as good as Hawke’s.

“Sorry, Storm, but Hawke is the winner,” called out Ian from the opposite side of the field, watching how far the poles landed.

“Ye won!” shouted Phoebe, jumping up and down in excitement, kissing Hawke so passionately that he almost got caught up in the moment, wanting to make love to her and forgetting where they were.

“Congratulations, Hawke. Ye will be mentioned in the book,” said the chronicler, walking up with his daughter at his side.

Logan and Ethan ran over to join them. Caleb rushed up, holding out his hand.

“Here ye are, Hawke. Two weddin’ rings,” said Caleb, so out of breath from running that he could barely speak.

Hawke kissed the rings and slipped one onto Phoebe’s finger, and let her slide his into place on his hand as well.

“I really feel married now,” said Phoebe, holding up her hand to admire the ring in the sun.

“How do ye spell yer name for the chronicles?” asked Bridget.

“With an E at the end,” Hawke answered.

“What?” asked Caleb, looking back and forth. “Hawke is gettin’ mentioned in the Highland Chronicles? What for?”