Page 40 of Buck Wild Orc Cowboy (Brides of the Lonesome Creek Orcs #3)

Holly

I couldn’t believe what Gracie gave me yesterday.

When I’d opened the small pouch at Sel’s house, I’d at first shaken my head, staring at the marble-sized gleaming stones in my hand.

They couldn’t be real gold, right? Nobody walked around with random pouches of gold nuggets in their pocket to casually give to a new friend.

“They’re real,” Sel had told me as we sat on his back steps with the sun sliding closer to the horizon. He ran his fingertip across one with a half-smile on his face. “We call it fymsom. You call it gold.”

“Tark gave it to her.” His level gaze met mine. “We tell most that we mine it in the hills, and we spend it sparingly to imply there isn’t much.”

I held my hand up and the gold gleamed in the sunlight. “This is more than not much.”

“Well.” He almost squirmed. “We’re mates, so I can tell you. It’s kind of lying on the ground everywhere in the orc kingdom.”

“What?” I barked.

“We have a lot of it.” His hand swept toward the downtown area.

“We bought this valley and built this tourist attraction with it, though everyone thinks the king financed it all. He actually didn’t, though he would’ve.

He likes the idea and plans to come to the surface soon to try some sorhox bull riding.

” He frowned. “We ride sorhox bulls already, and they’re as tame as Zist. He’s a bull.

But we’ve got some ideas for how we’ll get them excited enough to hop around on command.

Hail’s working on that project right now and plans to open our first rodeo soon. ”

I shook my head, trying to fathom how they’d get bulls to hop around on command and decided I’d have to see it to believe it.

Hail seemed to have a way with sorhoxes, so I guess if anyone could make it happen, he could.

And if I knew my son, he’d want to help.

As long as he wasn’t bull riding himself, I was okay with that.

For now, I’d focus on the…gold. Real gold.

“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 really gone 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 created this amazing 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.

“If I had my guess, I’d say this basket will win you an amazing meal,” Tark said, knuckling his brother’s shoulder. Sel returned the gesture.

I swallowed and flexed my fingers at my sides.

“He’s Sel, right?” the woman in the yellow gown asked, fanning herself.

A woman beside her leaned close, though she didn’t lower her voice. “Have you tried his cookies and cakes? They’re to die for.”

“What will you offer?” Tark shouted above the murmurs. “We have some anonymous bids for this one, so keep that in mind.”

“Ten dollars!” one of the bonnet-wearers said, holding her hand up.

Dungar, in his sheriff’s outfit, kept track of the bids.

“Twenty,” he called out. “Anonymous bid.”

“Thirty,” another person shouted.

I waited.

“Thirty-five,” someone added, grinning.

I raised my hand. “One gold nugget.”

A hush fell over the barn.

Tark blinked. “Uh…right. We should probably clarify. I assume we’re talking marble-sized nuggets?”

I nodded.

“So, they’re worth…let’s say about one hundred dollars each?”

“Way more than that,” someone said.

“Is it real gold or that fool’s stuff?” another person asked.

More joined in, debating whether I should be allowed to bid with gold or if I had to offer real money.

A woman with a long, pointy nose looked my way, her gaze sliding up and down my frame. “You mined it yourself?”

Gracie had already coached me.

I smiled. “Yes, I mined it up in the hills.”

Gracie elbowed me, trying not to laugh.

“I’m raising my bid to two gold nuggets,” I said over the furor.

One of the prairie-clad women twisted in her seat to gape my way. “Who brings that much gold to a picnic basket auction?”

“She’s got a pouch,” her friend hissed, pointing to my hand.

“I need to head into those hills,” the other said with a grin. “Tell us where you found it.”

“It’s a secret,” I said. “I can’t tell you.”

The women groaned.

Once everyone was willing to agree that one nugget could be equal to one hundred dollars, though I suspected that was much too low, more bids erupted. Competition got hot, but I wasn’t letting Sel’s basket go to anyone but me.

Tark chuckled as I shouted out my three-nugget bid. “Well, folks, looks like we’ve got a serious auction on our hands.”

The crowd started murmuring again, half surprised, half in excitement.

I stood a little straighter. Let them talk. I was just getting started.

“Go, Mom,” Max shouted, pumping his fist in the air.

My son was happy. So was Sel. Could things get any better than this?

I was so happy I could scream.

The woman in yellow stood and tossed her curls over one shoulder like that might give her more authority. “What’s actually in the basket?” she shouted. “We should know what we’re bidding on at this price.”

Tark tilted his head, mock serious. “I can’t say. You don’t have to bid, of course.”

“Oh, come on,” she asked with a sweet smile. “Not even a hint?”

He held up one finger. “Nope. Orcs honor.”

A few people chuckled.

“Three-fifty,” the woman in yellow shouted.

“Four hundred,” her friend said, holding up her hand.

“Six gold nuggets.” Even with this bid, I had a few left. I was eternally grateful to Gracie for giving me this chance. There was no way I could ever afford something like this otherwise.

Whispers stirred through the crowd.

“Hold steady.” Gracie grabbed my arm, pumping it. “You’ve got this.”

I nodded, my gaze locked on that basket. No way was I losing now.

The women huddled together, whispering and one of them finally lifted her arm. “Six-fifty.”

Tark looked impressed. “That’s the highest bid so far today.”

I held up another nugget, making it seven. My hand didn’t even shake.

More whispers. People craned their necks to get a better look at the gold.

The woman in yellow pressed her lips together. “At that cost, the basket better come with a kiss,” she muttered, and the other women snorted.

“Even more than a kiss,” another woman said with a laugh.

“Eight nuggets,” I said, before the first woman could think about raising her bid.

Her shoulders slumped.

“Nothing’s worth that much,” she said with a shrug, leaning back against the wooden bench.

To me, his basket was priceless.

“Any other bids?” Tark’s gaze swept across the crowd, greeted with silence. “Going once… Going twice…” He paused long enough for drama, then pointed straight at me. “Sold to the little lady in the gingham dress!”

Cheers and clapping erupted across the barn. Gracie shrieked beside me and flung her arms around my neck.

Bright Hope was about to get a lovely donation.

The woman in yellow gave me a good-natured wink. “Go get your orc, cowgirl.”

I laughed and tried to hand my last nugget to Gracie.

“Nope,” she said, pushing my hand back. “That one’s for you.”

Well, I was going to give it to Max, then. He could go shopping at the general store for more cowboy gear, something I’d bet anything he was eager to buy.

People whistled and clapped as I hugged Gracie again. My cheeks ached from smiling.

Across the barn, Sel was watching me.

Grinning.

So was I.

My grin dropped to nothing when a commotion at the barn entrance caught my eye. Melvin stomped inside the barn, the strange man I’d seen the other day in the bakery following.

“Holly. Max,” Melvin snarled. “I’ve got a lawyer. You're coming with me.”

My hands forming fists, I lifted my chin. “We’re not going anywhere with you, Melvin.”

“If you don’t, someone’s going to get hurt.” He pulled a gun and leveled it at Max.