Page 29 of Wrangling the Orc Cowboy

My chest still felt too tight. Rustic charm, orc culture. Sure. But there were so many pieces to this place, so many pieces to me. What if I chose the wrong ones or missed something important? She made me realize this could be more than buildings and sorhoxes and orc food. It was to be a place where people could belong. Maybe wedidhave something special here. I'd been so caught up in getting it started, building one thing after another, managing the sorhoxes. Focusing on the tiny details rather than how others might see it all at once.

Wasn't this what I wanted, to be part of something bigger so I could avoid thinking about how small I was myself? There could be meaning in all this.

And maybe, meaning within me.

I dropped my fingers under the table. “I'll try to tell a story. Show them why Lonesome Creek matters.”

“Exactly.”

“I need to show them that this is a place where they can feel free.” My voice gained strength as I spoke. “Lonesome Creek isn’t about streaming images on a TV or bright city lights. It’s about finding peace. Being able to sit under the stars and feel like you’re the only person alive, if for one moment. Or hearing the creak of the saloon doors and feeling like you’ve stepped back in time. I want them to experience that. To remember it long after they’ve left and returned to their regular lives.”

“That’s beautiful, Tark. That's exactly the kind of feeling we can capture in your posts. People are going to love that. You’ve got heart, and trust me, that’s half the battle.”

I didn’t trust my voice not to splinter, betray the way part of me cracked just hearing her speak like I mattered. I’d spent so long just being useful, silencing my wants and needs. To hear someone say what I did could be enough? It made every part of me rise and ache all at once.

I took a deep breath and stilled my sore heart, nodding. “What's the plan then?”

“Well,” she said, straightening in her chair and lowering her phone onto the table beside her plate. “After we do the dishes, let's start with a tour. I need to see the town through your eyes. Show me what makes it special, not just the big attractions, but the little things too. The corners where the magic lives. I’ll take pictures while we walk around, and we’ll post as we go. That way, we can test the waters and see what resonates with people.”

A tour. That seemed manageable enough. I could talk about the things we’d built, the stories behind them. Maybe she’d understand what we were trying to do. More than that, maybe she’d see me in a way no one else had before.

“All right.”

We quickly washed the dishes and put them away.

“We could start on one end of town and work our way to the other,” Gracie said.

I glanced at Sharga, who had returned and perched himself on top of a cabinet and was preening his wings. “Come with us?”

With a chittering sound, he swooped down from the cabinet and landed on my shoulder, his claws digging into my shirt.

“It’s this way.” I gestured toward the door, acutely aware of my size as I held it open for her. She brushed past me, and her shoulder grazed my arm. It was nothing, nothing at all, but her simple touch felt like lightning under my skin.

The walk to the barn wasn’t far, but Gracie kept looking around, her eyes wide and curious. “The layout’s great. It’s like stepping onto the set of a movie. Did you and your brothers design all of this yourselves?”

“Mostly Dungar.” I pointed out a hitching post he’d insisted we carve rather than buy ready-made. “He’s got the vision for this kind of thing. I helped where I could.”

“And where was that?”

“Construction, mostly. I helped build the saloon, the hotel above, the general store, the restaurant and the jail.”

“So much work. It's impressive. You’re quite skilled.”

“I’ve spent some time making things like the benches and the signs.” I was gushing, but I couldn’t help it. I wanted to impress her so much.

“Show me everything, even the jail, though we can save that for last.” Her tone carried warmth like a secret meant only for me. “I’ve never been the ‘break the rules’ type, but I ached to break free. Let’s see what kind of trouble I’d get into in Lonesome Creek.” Her grin shot straight to my chest, and I fumbled for words, any words, to mask the way my pulse quickened. But before I could respond, she spoke again. “And after that, let’s find where you’d hide the best cloud-watchingspot. If we’re going to sell a sense of freedom, Tark, I want to feel it all.”

It wasn’t her words. It was the way she saidfeel it, as if this was bigger than tourism or business plans. This truly meant something to her, and that stunned me.

And for the first time, I realized this tour wasn’t only for her.

It was also for me.

Chapter 11

Gracie

Main Street spread out ahead of us like an image I might see online, each building painted in earthy tones meant to mimic the Wild West of yesteryear. Tark walked beside me, his towering form radiating a nervous energy that was oddly endearing. Sharga clung to his shoulder, occasionally letting out meows that Tark answered with soft grunts as if they could carry on a conversation.

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