Page 61 of Wrangling the Orc Cowboy

“Aw, he hasn’t told her, and I think we’re ruining it for them,” Jessi said. “Forget we brought it up.”

“Too late,” I barked. “Tell me.”

“Well…” Rosey peered around, but we were alone.

The three leaned close to me and started whispering.

By the time they’d finished, I was fuming.

When Tark got back, I was going to kill him.

Chapter 20

Gracie

Two days later, I woke to what sounded like a rooster crowing. Sort of, if a rooster’s cock-a-doodle-do came out like a high-pitched dog whistle blowing in sharp, rhythmic blasts.

Tark still hadn’t returned. My irritation about the mark on my wrist—that he had not shared the meaning of—had faded to sadness. At this point, I just ached to see him, to tell him… I wasn’t sure what, but something.

I prayed he wasn’t rejecting me.

He’d come back, and we’d talk, and he’d better have a good explanation for his version of “I’ll call you in the morning,” let alone the fated mating marks on our wrists.

Or else.

The high-pitched dog whistle erupted outside again, dragging me from the wallowing I was sliding into.

Rising from the bed, I scooted over to the window, staring down in amazement as a pink, scaled bird the size of a pony waddled through the lot behind the building, turning at the side to continue toward Main Street with five smaller versions of itself pattering behind.

“I’ve gotta make a video of this.” After stuffing my feet into my flip-flops, I raced down the stairs still dressed in my nightie and burst out onto the boardwalk in front of the saloon.

The chumbles had made their way farther down on my right, and I bolted after them with my phone lifted, video ready to engage, and the finger of my other hand hovering over the start button.

I skidded to a stop at the end of the boardwalk, with the chumble family straight ahead. Mama chumble had paused and was peering back at me with interest, her long neck outstretched, and her beak lifted into the air as if she was sniffing the air swirling past me.

“Amazing. Pink eyes too.” I started recording.

Mama turned and hurried out of town, her babies squawking and flurrying after her.

“Not so fast,” I whispered, leaping off the boardwalk. I kept up with them, determined to catch the video from every possible angle. Finally, about a quarter of a mile from town, though gauging distance wasn’t my strong suit, Mama came to a stop. The babies collapsed in the spindly grass, chirping and tumbling around on top of each other in play.

I made one video after another, whispering about how cute and wonderful these creatures from the orc kingdom were. Tark was right; people were going to be all over them.

The baby chumbles—chumblettes? –finally got tired and nestled together into a fluffy pink mound, their mix of soft feathers and shimmering scales so bright they made the town look black-and-white by comparison. They squeaked and wiggled under their mother’s watchful gaze. I kept my phone camera locked on them. Each chirp they made came out in a little hiccup of a sound, and every twitch of their tiny, scaled tails made my heart squeeze tighter. This was pure gold for social media.

I stepped closer. Mama chumble’s head whipped around to point my way. Her dark, glossy beak glinted in the sunlight, her orange beak crest flaring like a warning. She shifted her massive body to stand between me and her babies.

“Okay, okay. I get it. Mama bear vibes,” I muttered, sidestepping enough to change my angle. With a slow movement, I raised my phone higher. Her pink wings spread out, reminding me she could probably knock me flat without much effort if she decided she didn’t like me or my phone. But Tark implied they were tame.

My heart thudded, but the thought of missing a perfect shot kept me rooted in place.

Another chumble squawk from the babies pulled her focus away. I seized my chance to tiptoe around to her other side. She noticed. Her whistle-blasts pierced my ears, and her long neck craned toward me. A translucent membrane flicked across her bright pink eyes, making a cold shiver erupt on my skin.

“Mama, I’m literally only taking a few videos,” I said. “No need for DEFCON 1.”

I didn’t stop filming. The babies had nestled tighter, the light catching the scales on their pudgy faces just right. I kept up with a low narration, talking about how exciting these creatures were, how anyone visiting the Lonesome Creek Ranch would have their chance to get up close and personal with chumble babies like me.

The size of small cats, they were incredibly cute. I needed one last close-up. The mother's feathery tail spiked out as she moved to block me again, but I kept easing sideways, circling behind her.

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