Page 93 of Buck Wild Orc Cowboy
“You’re saying Gracie has enough of this stuff to hand it out to anyone,” I said.
“Not just anyone. You in particular.”
And I knew why. She’d wanted me to have enough money to bid on Sel’s basket. The thought of spending this much on anything made me feel giddy and terrified, but the thought of anyone else bidding to win the basket that I was determined would be mine was worse.
So here I stood now, inside the big red barn full of happy tourists, a sack of gold in my hand, and Tark about to get the auction started.
Gracie stood beside me, grinning at her mate as he scanned the crowd. “He’s amazing, isn’t he?”
Tark glanced her way and winked.
“He sure is,” I said with a smile, so happy for my friend. It was clear they were in love and what could be better than that?
The crowd fidgeted on the benches, some craning their necks to see, a few little kids sitting on a parent’s shoulders. Laughter rose in waves as people cheered each other on, adjusting bonnets and cowboy hats, shaking out skirts. The orc brothers had reallygone all-in on the Wild West thing, and I imagined Aunt Inla’s general store saw a lot of customers. I spied men in leather chaps and vests, some with fake pistols at their hips. Spurs clinked against the floor as they shifted their legs. Someone let out a fake yee-haw near the front, and people laughed.
I adjusted the little pouch of gold in my hand, closing my fingers around it just to feel the weight. It still didn’t seem real. I wasn’t used to carrying enough money to outbid strangers for picnic baskets, especially not while dressed in a gingham dress and cowgirl boots, but here I was.
Sel had picked out the outfit for me last evening at the general store, insisting on paying for it. I’d protested; I wasn’t used to anyone buying things for me, but he’d insisted, kissing me until I agreed. Although, if I wasn’t so eager to please him no matter what, I would’ve put my foot down. But he loved me. I loved him. And giving each other things was part of showing how much we cared. I planned to bake him his favorite meal next week. Aunt Inla promised to give me the recipe and the orc ingredients.
Tark raised one hand like he’d just walked out of a rodeo ring. “Ladies and gentlemen,” he called out, “if you’ll settle down, we’re about to get started.”
He must’ve watched some auctioneer videos in addition to old Wild West movies, because he was doing a pretty decent job sounding like an auctioneer. A slomo one, but decent all the same.
“Just to reiterate, all proceeds from today’s auction go to the Bright Hope Animal Shelter!” Cheers broke out, and someone in the back whistled.
Gracie leaned in toward me, her face lit up. “He’s perfect for this.”
“He really is.”
Tark beamed as the noise died down. “Those who wish to remain anonymous may do so. If you didn’t already place your highest bid and drop it into the box at the back of the room, you’ll find bidding cards and pencils in the small folder attached to the bench in front of you. Place your bid and note the basket number you’re bidding on and someone will be around soon to collect it.” He paused to give people time to do so. One of the brothers would go through the bids and call out offers when the basket went up for auction. The winner’s number was noted on the cards, and they could collect their basket later, either choosing to dine with whoever made the basket or not.
Soon, the auction got underway.
The first few baskets went quickly. Tark invited folks to come up with their baskets if they wanted to. Most did, smiling awkwardly while the crowd clapped and hooted. Some baskets went for fifty or sixty dollars. A couple scraped by at twenty. But nobody cared. Every bit helped, and it was clear the group was having a good time.
“That one’s from Ruugar,” Gracie whispered as the next basket was held up. “He put in seven kinds of jerky.”
Ruugar didn’t say a word, just stood and crossed his arms on his chest as Tark called out the bids. Ruugar’s mate, Beth, waved a ten in the air. Someone else offered a twenty. Beth upped it to thirty. Forty. Fifty. When she shouted, “Seventy-five!” no one else challenged her.
Leaping off the bench, she jumped into Ruugar’s arms, kissing him while the audience cheered. He spun her around while she shouted. “This is my male, and that’s my basket!”
The next few had surprises inside. One woman pulled out a full smoked trout, wrapped in cloth and tied with twine. Her friends squealed and pointed. Someone shouted, “Hope you like fish,” and she doubled over with laughter.
I chuckled too, though I kept glancing toward the front. Sel’s basket waited there like it had been placed on a pedestal. Woven wood. A linen cloth with embroidery draped over whatever was inside. A ribbon with a crooked bow on the top. It shouldn’t stand out, but it did.
Because I was determined to win it.
A woman nearby, dressed in a bright yellow calico dress with a bonnet to match, nudged her friend. “Do you think the big orc’s basket will be up soon?”
My ears perked, and I smoothed my dress.
Tark picked up the next basket with both hands. “Now here’s one that smells suspiciously delicious.” He dragged out the last two words with a tusk-filled grin, his pointy-tipped ears twitching. “Nice basket. I’ve seen some just like it at my aunt’s general store, so head on over there after to pick one up to take home. Real orc craftsmanship, straight from the orc kingdom. But who createdthisamazing basket? Are they willing to come forward? It’s alright if you prefer to remain anonymous, but wow.”
Sel raised his hand and got up, striding down the aisle to the front of the room to stand near Tark.
“Well, well, well, if it isn’t the owner of our fine bakery right here in Lonesome Creek,” Tark called out.
Laughter rippled through the crowd. A few women leaned forward.
