Page 7 of Live Love Lasso

“Go be welcoming,” I say with a laugh. “Ain’t we all about that here?”

“I suppose we are,” she grumbles.

“Welcoming” couldn’t exactly be used to describe my grumbly Second. She’s the best and most diligent ranger I’ve ever had the pleasure to work with, but social skills ain’t really her forte. Like me, she prefers the company of animals, which is why we’re such a good team, heading up the Department of Fish & Wildlife.

I run a hand through my long white hair, tucking stray strands back around my curved horns. Glancing down, I’m a little disgruntled that my ranger uniform’s covered in dirt and more than a little snot from one of the sick horses. Not the best first impression.

Well, can’t be helped, I suppose. I’ve still got a certain amount of charm I can turn on when needed.

“I’m on my way,” I tell Echo. “I was serious, though. Go be nice.”

“Oz’s already doing it,” she responds, then clicks off without agreeing to what I suggested.

I hop into the truck as I take a final look around the riverbank. The wild mustangs stand on the other side, munching river grass and resting in the sun. I look down at the silver horse herd tattoo galloping down my right forearm. The magic imbued into the tattoo helps me get a better sense of the health and mental state of our horses, strengthening my natural dark elf ability to read others. The herd’s settled and comfy right now, the sentiment like a warm nose nuzzling my skin.

If I was back home working in the family business, I’d have our clients tattooed on me to feel their emotions more deeply. I’m thankful that elf ability works just as well on wildlife, although mine is a nontraditional dark elf career path.

I back the truck up a bit and drive carefully along a well-worn route up and out of the namesake gulch, heading toward downtown.

By the time I get there, Echo’s called me at least twice more to give me updates on the new monster.

She’s got sparkly pink boots, and they are godsawful!

She’s doin’ karaoke, and it’s too early for that tomfoolery!

She’s too loud, and she’s drinkin’ too much!

As if being drunk and singin’ in a bar are really some sort of oddity. There’s a reason Pine Gulch has at least three bars, and stayin’ stone-cold sober ain’t one of ‘em.

I mean, it’s early-ish but, honestly, startin’ early isn’t a problem for most folks. I won’t say PG’s lawless exactly, but we don’t do the civilized thing other havens do. We throw a lotta parties. About the only haven system rule we stick to is keeping the haven system a secret from the human world. I call the occasional human here with our playing card deck. It’s a funny bit of magic that gives them the urge to get in the car and drive, leading them right to us. But apart from that, we do our own thing.

By the time I get to town, I’ve stopped answering Echo’s calls because I need a minute to get my head on straight. I park in front of Whiskey Business and grab the haven welcome book. It’s a gorgeous thick coffee table-style book highlighting everything a newcomer might wanna know about Pine Gulch—map, info about the type of monsters that live here and who’s who among town leadership, a list of businesses, and beautiful portrait paintings of downtown herself.

Exiting the truck, I head toward the front door. The bar waggles its rough hewn siding at me in a friendly way.

“Hey, pretty girl,” I greet the building just as I notice a long earthworm wriggling in front of the door. It’s probably gettin’ baked alive on the big stone step into the bar. Dropping to my heels, I grab it up and drop him into the nearest flower pot. Much safer spot. I watch for a moment as it squirms around in the dirt and begins to dig.

Confident the earthworm is safe, I rise and stride into the dimly lit bar. True to Echo’s fuckin’ word, a vampire female in a ruffled pink dress and sparkling pink cowboy boots stands on the bar with a microphone.

Oz cheers her on as she sings some song I’ve never heard. She’s lost in the music, walking along the bar and putting on a literal concert. Echo joins me at the door, waving toward the female.

“See what I mean? I told you! Oz is just eggin’ her on, and she’s been at this song for, damn, five full minutes, I bet.”

I clap Echo on the shoulder, not looking away from the vampire. She spins on the bar, walking in my direction. Crimson eyes widen, then narrow as she sees me for the first time. She pauses for just a moment, then picks right back up with the singing as Oz hoots and hollers from behind the bar.

I pick my way around, nodding at the couple monsters seated at scattered tables. I’m gonna get an earful about this later, I’m sure. Sliding onto a barstool, I set the welcome book down and wait for the woman to finish.

She’s hitting the high notes now, and Oz is in hysterics as she sings about a woman driving her boyfriend’s car off a cliff. Sounds violent as hells to me, but whatever. Her voice is actually great, and it gives me a minute to give her a good look. She’s tall and curvaceous with vampiric house tattoos that cover her neck and crawl down into the low neckline of her dress.

She’s thick around the middle too, with wide hips and a dress that hugs every inch of curves. Lotta curves.

Those boots, though. Every inch of her cowboy boots is covered in jewels, sparkles, glitter, or some combo of all three. My brows rise as I consider how worthless boots like that are in a place like PG. Pretty, though.

The song ends, and the woman hops elegantly onto the nearest stool, handing Oz the microphone.

“Bravo,” he shrieks. “Gods, that was good!” He laughs when he sees me. “Furyon, meet Lemon Knox, our newest resident.” He waves a hand at me. “Lemon, Furyon A. Zayle is the Head of Fish & Wildlife. He takes care of the animals, but he’s also our charming welcome committee. Pretty much the closest thing to a Keeper we have, given…things.”

Around us, Whiskey Business creaks and groans at his reference to a Keeper.