3. Tark
Chapter 3
Tark
I couldn’t do anything right. I’d tried to help this woman who must be Gracie Weeks since she was due to arrive today. But while I’d sent the sorhox away, I’d bumbled like usual and nearly fallen on top of the slight female. If we’d hit the ground, I would’ve crushed her.
Why couldn’t I do even one simple thing?
“No, you didn’t cause the blisters,” she said softly, too softly and kindly for what had happened. “I spilled coffee on myself, and it was too hot.” She placed the cup she’d been holding on the table, nudging it far away.
She should be shouting at me to call for another Oo-bear to take her back to the city she’d come from.
Instead, she smiled. “I think we got off to a rocky start, but what an introduction, huh? I’m Gracie Weeks. You didn’t hurt me. I did this to myself.” Her cheeks went from medium pink to a darker color. Fuchsia? I think that was what it was called. She looked amazing no matter what color her cheeks were, however.
Focus, Tark. Don’t mess this up further.
“I can fix it,” I said. “Burns. Half-torn off legs. Broken wings.” I gestured to Sharga, though I could tell Gracie didn’t know what in the world I was talking about. “Lots of things. Wait here?”
She frowned but nodded, nibbling on her lower lip.
I straightened and flung myself across the room and out the front door, racing down to the general store and barreling inside. Sharga flew behind me, squawking for me to slow down, but I couldn't. I had to help Gracie.
“Ah, Tark,” Aunt Inla said, looking up from where she was studying something lying on the smooth, glossy wooden counter at the back of the big open store.
I hurried down the aisle, past racks of sorhox jerky and grain bars, coming to a skidding halt in front of a big rack of ointments and bottles of things we were told humans sometimes needed to consume to make them feel better.
My aunt smiled. “I was going to reach out to you later about?—”
“Not now! Not now. I need…” I slammed through the medicinal supplies, grabbing handfuls of ointments. “Which is best for burns?”
“Burns?” She hurried around the counter to stand beside me, her pretty green face wreathed with concern. Her gaze traveled up and down my body. “Where are you burned?”
“Not me. My… Well, not my . Gracie is here, and she’s burned.”
My aunt’s dark eyes widened, and horror tainted her voice. “You burned her?”
“Not me, no. I slammed my palm into her chest, but she was already burned. I need to help her!”
“What kind of burn are we talking about and how did this happen? I’m confused. She was arriving today; I knew that, but she arrived with burns?”
“Her skin’s pink. She has a few blisters. Hot liquid. Which one?” Grabbing a plastic basket from the floor in front of the counter, I rushed back to the rack of supplies. “I can’t tell. Please help me.”
“This one might be best.” She removed a long tub of ointment from the rack and handed it to me. “And some of this.” She added a bottle to my basket. “Those are pills that supposedly help with the pain. Human pain, that is. Who knows what they do to orcs? I’m not ready to try. Orc methods are my way. You know that.” She gave me a pert nod. “I prefer to stick to what we’ve always used in instances like this but?—”
I eased around her with the bottle and tube in hand and hustled over to a rack of female shirts and pretty dresses. I was told they were pretty, that is. I’d never tried any on myself to find out. We’d ordered boxes and boxes of the things in various colors after someone who helped in the early planning suggested humans would enjoy purchasing authentic wild west clothing and items with our logo while they were here. “Should I get a bonnet?” I held a light blue one up that matched the shirt, its ties dangling.
“For her burn?” My aunt joined me at the rack, taking the top and lifting it. “What size is she?”
“I didn’t ask.” I gulped. “Why didn’t I ask? You’d think I’d want to know something like that about the woman who’s here to save— I mean help me with social media.”
“Why does your social media need saving? Last I heard, you were doing a fantastic job.”
“Oh, I am. She’s going to…enhance my presence. Make it even better. Not save it. No need for saving.” I needed to close my mouth and stop jabbering.
And get back to Gracie.
“She’s this tall.” I made a sideways hand chopping gesture midway up my chest. “About this wide.” Dropping the basket, I spread my hands out, realizing as I did it how much smaller than me Gracie was. Not that her size mattered when it came to employing someone, but she was beautiful. She’d stunned me when I first saw her. Some little tiny corner of my heart had perked up and started dreaming.
Dreaming about love and romance and all that stuff that wasn’t for orcs like me.
“About Jessi and Rosey’s size, then,” my aunt said.
“Yes. She is.” Now that I thought about it, I realized that myself. I’d only met a few humans in person, though I’d seen many online during my social media forays. Clicked on their profiles and studied their faces that were similar to an orc’s yet different. We were universally much larger, even our females, standing at seven of their feet. Such an odd term for measurement when feet came in all sizes.
None of the profiles I’d examined showed females as pretty as Gracie, though that could be because I was seeing her in person and not in a flat image.
“Take this shirt, then,” my aunt said, nudging her chin to the one I still held. “Actually, why don’t I go with you?”
“No!” Alright, so I shouldn’t have roared the word, but I wanted to do this for Gracie. I was the one who’d messed up, and it was up to me and only me to fix it.
“I want to meet her,” she said.
“You can but later.”
Sharga skidded through the air, knocking something off the top of a rack as he flew in his jagged way over it, and landed on my shoulder. He dug his claws in deep enough I winced. But he didn’t realize, so I stroked his spine, something both of us found soothing.
The gesture didn’t soothe me as much as I’d like, but I had a good reason. Gracie was in pain. I’d made it worse. Only helping her would make it better.
“You can meet her tomorrow or the day after that.” With that, I fisted the ointment, bottle, and shirt, and bolted for the door. I skidded out onto the boardwalk with Sharga flapping his wings and squawking, either urging me on or telling me to slow down.
Actually, rushing was what got me into trouble. I might not have fallen against Gracie if I’d watched where I’d placed my feet, something my parents had reminded me of over and over as I grew from a big youngling into the really big male I was now. I’d listened all the time and tried to take things more carefully, but I still found myself bumbling my way through life. I’d accepted this was me even if I didn’t like it.
But again, there was no harm in reminding myself not to slam into everything all the time, to take a moment to think about what I wanted to do and delicately do it. Assuming a big orc like me could do anything in a delicate manner.
Not much chance of that.
On the boardwalk, I made myself stride—though very fast—back to the saloon and inside the swinging double doors that thudded closed behind me.
At this point, there was no one living in the hotel above, so no one would see how I blundered. We’d be full in a few weeks, and the saloon area would be leaping, per my brother, Dungar. No, hopping, though I wasn’t sure why that term was used. Would humans truly jump around like rabbits?
I guessed I’d soon find out.
Sharga cawed and soared off my shoulder, weaving his way through the air to land on the counter where he started studying his reflection in the gleaming surface.
Gracie had remained in her seat, though she held her soiled clothing against her chest.
“You didn’t leave,” I said as I hurried over to her, tripping on one of the floorboards we’d purposefully made appear uneven to be authentic, though they truly weren’t. Now I wasn’t sure how tripping could be authentic, but I wasn’t going to worry about it, not while Gracie sat in a chair with a grimace on her face.
“You said you’d be back, and I wasn’t sure where else to go.”
I hadn’t explained anything , had I? Fumbling through this as well. Heat climbed up my cheeks and planted itself in my big ears. If only I could cup them with my hands like I used to do when I was a youngling. Hide my embarrassment from the world.
Stopping in front of her, I dropped to my knees. This put me at her eye level and even with the scarlet marks on her chest. I’d only seen a few blisters earlier, but new ones could be forming. Smacking my palm against them must’ve hurt.
“I have this.” I held up the ointment. “And this.” I set the bottle on the table. “That’s for pain. Later. Unless you’d like me to fetch you a drink so you can take some of the tablets right now.”
Frowning, she shook her head. “No, but thanks. I have stuff in my bag.” She peered around me. “Where is my bag? Oh, I left it on the street. I need to go get it.”
When she started to rise, I placed my hand as delicately as I could on her shoulder, barely touching through the fabric of the shirt she still held in place across her chest. “I’ll get it.” I leaped up and tripped over the leg of a chair tucked in close to a nearby table. I sprawled forward but caught myself before landing on the floor.
Heat flooded my face again, but I kept going, hoping Gracie hadn’t noticed how clumsy I was. Outside, I made myself walk—not even fast this time—over to her bags still sitting in the dusty street. There was no one here but us orcs and her, so they’d been safe, but I understood being careful about possessions.
I lifted them and carried them inside, placing them near the stairs since she’d be staying here in the hotel. “All good.” I rushed back over to kneel in front of her again.
She studied my face. I did not ask for input on her thoughts because I worried they’d be harsh. Or maybe she’d laugh.
I imagined her mouth twisting in disappointment I could barely survive. If she said I was too much, or too clumsy, or too embarrassing, parts of me would melt into the saloon floor and never crawl back out again.
“Let me help you?” I held up the ointment. “I want to put this on your burns. I need to do something to make up for shoving my big hand against you.”
“I can do it. Truly.”
“Please?”
She gave me a level look. “You’re male.”
“That, I am.” Couldn’t she tell? I kept the urge to fidget locked behind joints that had never felt so brittle. My skin buzzed like it had been rewired with lightning, every spark demanding I prove I could be trusted with this.
“You’re male, and you’re asking to touch my chest,” she said.
“Only to slide the ointment across your burns. I want to make sure you cover all the areas.” I held up the shirt I’d collected at the general store. “This is new, for you to wear after.”
She blinked at it. “It says Everything’s Big at Lonesome Creek Ranch, Especially the Orcs. Is that supposed to be funny or factual?” Her gaze shot to my groin, though I had no idea why.
“We’re big, but I think it’s a mix of both.” I tugged on the edge of my vest. “If you prefer, you could wear this instead.”
Her low laugh burst out, and for some reason, the lilting sound made my skin tingle. “With my bra peeking through?”
Bra…
“You mean this?” I lifted the band on her shoulder then carefully lowered it once more. See? I could be delicate on occasion. If only I could be delicate all of the time.
“Yes, that. I can’t strut around town with my bra hanging out.”
“Why not?”
“It’s underwear.”
“Because it’s underneath your shirt?” That would make the most sense, though I’d already discovered humans used terms for things that made absolutely no sense at all.
“Exactly. I’ll tell you what. Since my burn is in an area I can’t see unless I’m looking in a mirror, and you seem like a decent guy?—”
“Orc.”
“A decent orc .” Her lips curled up before smoothing, though the tension tightening her brow remained. She was in pain, and I was wasting time chattering when I could be helping her instead. “I’ll let you do this. But keep your fingers from wandering.”
I wasn’t sure how my fingers could wander when my brain would direct them at all times, but I nodded.
She lowered her shirt, exposing her bra and chest to my view. She really was pretty.
“Orc females are flat-chested,” I pointed out, tapping the side of her bra where it cupped her chest projections. “They don’t have these round squishy balls like humans.” I unscrewed the cap and made sure I placed it on the table so it wouldn’t go flying off someplace where I’d never find it.
“Breasts. The…round, squishy balls are called breasts, and they come in all sizes.”
I frowned and squirted some of the ointment onto the tip of my finger—that would not wander. “I’ve seen varying sizes online.”
“I’m sure you have,” she said dryly.
I didn’t know what she meant by that tone, but didn’t ask. I was too focused on making sure I only barely touched her skin with my finger. The last thing I wanted to do was slam my hand against her again. One wrong move, and I’d fracture the thing between us I wasn’t even sure I was allowed to hope for.
Biting down on my tongue and leaning close, I gently spread the ointment across all the red areas, taking extra care with the three small blisters.
“Thank you,” she said, her lips quivering and her body twitching under my touch. “It’s feeling better already.” She eased away and held her hand up for the new shirt. “Thank you for this too. It’s sweet of you to bring me something clean to wear. I’ll pay you back of course.”
“It’s free.” Seeing an area on her chest I might’ve missed, I squirted more ointment onto my finger and spread it out until there was no more left.
That’s when my finger wandered—for some inexplicable reason I couldn’t define and did not control. It slid over to her arm that had no burns, impacting with her un-greased skin.
The space between my skin and hers crackled with something alive, wild, and wrong in how right it felt.
Fire licked up my arm from the touch, and I paused, frowning with my gaze flickering from hers to my finger. As if flames erupted beneath my skin, I hissed, jerking my hand back.
But it was already too late. Heat seared on my inner wrist, and when I flipped it over, I gaped at the circular symbol appearing there. Golden, and etched like human artists who drew and pricked human skin to leave an inked pattern behind.
No tat-of-the-too for me, however.
I gaped up at Gracie. “You’re…my fated one!”