Page 37 of Wrangling the Orc Cowboy

“You’ve given me a day I won’t forget,” I said, my voice croaking through my chest. “Thank you, Gracie.”

“Me too.” With a smile, she stepped into her room. “Goodnight, Tark.”

“Goodnight.” My voice cracked. I turned before I could do anything foolish, my hand already sliding down to my side.

Walking along the hallway felt like dragging myself through mud. Each step away from her door made me feel twice—no, three times my size. Sharga meowed beside my temple, but I didn’t answer. I couldn’t drag up words even for my pet.

Outside, the night air felt cool on my skin and filled with the familiar scents of pine and the soft hum of insects in the dark.

I called for my sorhox, and the huge beast padded from where she’d been grazing. I leaped up onto her back, appreciating the quiet comfort of her strength beneath me.

When I reached home, Sharga flew off my shoulder, soaring in through the open hatch on the top of my barn, seeking his roost. Podar waited inside the house, sitting with an air of impatience by the door. As I strode into the kitchen, he yowled, reminding me I was late coming home.

“Sorry, little one,” I said, closing and locking the door. He wound around my legs as I took food from the fridge and fed him.

Podar dove in, eating with enthusiasm. Smiling, I stroked his glossy fur while his purr echoed in the quiet room. My friend always brought comfort, and tonight I needed his presence.

The house felt still, almost too much. Without Gracie's laughter or her asking me about this or that, the quiet pressed down on me. After getting a drink of water, I walked into the living area and sank into an orc-sized chair, staring at the cold fireplace beyond the low table. I kicked off my boots and shucked my socks, propping my bare feet on the table and wiggling my toes.

I couldn't stop thinking about Gracie, how she moved, her bright smile. I could still feel the ghostly warmth of her cheek against my knuckles. It was maddening. She was human, her world unknowable in so many ways. Yet everything about her felt familiar, as if my heart had been waiting for her all along.

I pulled my phone from my pocket, the screen glowing at my touch. A swipe, and I tapped until I found our business's profile on InstaPlug.

She’d already begun posting. There was a short video highlighting views of the surrounding mountains, each shot tied together with her voice overlaying them—a voice like honey talking about the beauty and hidden charm of Lonesome Creek Ranch. She’d included a wide shot of the meadow beyond the red barn too, its golden expanse merging with the horizon. In the comments, people were already asking questions about visiting. Excitement glimmered in her words as she responded.

Pride swelled in my chest as I scrolled through her posts. She was so much better with this than me. The way she painted pictures with her words, her eye for finding beauty in the small things. She had a magic about her.

I hovered my fingers over the screen, wondering if I should leave a comment. But what could I say? Anything I might type felt clumsy, out of place. Instead, I liked the video, a small bit of acknowledgment. She might not notice my heart among all the others flooding in, but the thought brought a faint smile to my lips because I was supporting her.

Setting the phone aside, I leaned back and stared at the ceiling. The quiet of the house felt heavier tonight. Empty, like a cavern with echoes that didn’t reach any walls. My heart teased me with a longing I didn’t know how to resolve. It wasn’t just her kindness or the way she looked at me that made the ache in my chest grow. It was everything about her. She made me feel alive in a way I hadn’t since leaving the orc kingdom, like the first time I drew in a breath under the big open sky.

I grabbed the remote and flicked on the streaming box. Dungar had insisted we watch the images to better understand humans. He'd also mentioned that many showed how a male might court a female, something all of us were interested in.

The screen lit up, revealing a lone rider on a vast plain, his too-small, not-sorhox carrying him toward the horizon.

This streaming image was strange. Humans seemed to solve the problems presented in the story with weapons that barked out bangs, or with exaggerated speeches. But then came the moments that Dungar must feel were significant—the courting scenes. The hero tipped his hat toward the female of his dreams. His lazy smile rose, and he spoke flowery words that made the female smile.

He brought her wildflowers.

Shielded her from storms.

He carried all her burdens without hesitation.

It seemed humans valued quiet strength paired with tenderness, and my mind raced, trying to piece together what I could learn from this.

Podar jumped up onto the arm of my chair and then climbed onto my lap, curling in a ball, purring. I absently stroked him, taking care not to touch where his missing front leg used to attach. He got around amazingly well, but I could tell that the lack of his limb still sometimes hurt him. Phantom pain, the woman animal healer had called it.

Similar to the feeling in my heart now that Gracie was no longer by my side.

The streaming images ended, and words dragged across the screen.

Somewhere inside, beneath my thick flesh and tougher pride, a longing beat in place of what used to be utterly still.

Gracie deserved more than I knew how to offer, but these humans managed to win affection through their boldness and care. Perhaps if I tried something like what I’d seen tonight, something meaningful, I could show her all the feelings growing in my heart.

A plan began forming in my mind. It wasn't much, but it was enough to spark hope.

Soon, I would put it into action.

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