Country winds, p.1
Country Winds, page 1
Country Winds
King Creek Cowboys
Book 9
Cheyenne McCray
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Excerpt: Branded for You
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Also by Cheyenne McCray
About Cheyenne
Excerpt: Country Frost
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Copyright © 2025 by Cheyenne McCray LLC
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual business establishments, events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
1
“Milady, did you know you have a spot of dirt on your otherwise lovely gown?” Ellie spoke to Autumn in a strong Old English accent as they walked through the Renaissance fair. Ellie gave a little shooing motion as if sending small children away. “One of those grimy street urchins must have brushed against you.”
Autumn laughed. “I do believe you are correct, Lady Ellie.” She smirked as she shook her head. “Your accents are always perfect. You’re so good at them.”
Ellie gave a delicate sniff. “Flatter me no more. I know you wish only to get out of paying for lunch.” Then she grinned and spoke in a normal tone of voice, a hint of country in her accent from growing up on a ranch. “I’m paying. I’m so grateful for you introducing me to the world of voice acting and just all of it.”
“Nothing doing.” Autumn raised the hem of her gown as they walked from the dried grass onto the dusty earth. “You’re the one with the amazing voice and abilities.”
“There you go again.” Ellie was glad she was wearing a shorter gown so that she didn’t have to worry about it dragging in the dirt—she’d learned from being at the fairs in the past.
“Oh, dear.” Autumn pressed her hand to her chest. “Look at that fine specimen of a cowboy. He’s a bit out of place amongst all the lords and ladies here.”
“My, my, my.” Ellie sighed as she looked at the long, tall, cool drink of water. “I swore off cowboys, but that’s a man to make a woman think twice.”
The cowboy pushed the brim of his hat higher with one finger as his gaze drifted over the crowd. Ellie wished she could see the color of his eyes—brown, maybe, because of what she could see of the dark hair at his nape.
Autumn moved closer to Ellie. “Can you see him dressed up for the fair, wearing tights?”
Ellie shot a horrified gaze at Autumn. “Oh, God, no. No, no, no.”
A giggle escaped Autumn, and Ellie turned back to stare at the cowboy. Autumn spoke in a mischievous tone. “Maybe you should introduce yourself.”
“And leave one of my best friends high and dry?” Ellie shook her head. “I won’t do that.”
Autumn slipped her cell phone from the pocket she had sewn into her Renaissance gown and glanced at the screen. “I have to run anyway—I didn’t realize it was so late. It’s already time to meet up with Josh.” She looked apologetically at Ellie. “I’m so sorry we don’t have time for lunch.” She inclined her head toward the cowboy. “Why don’t you see if he’ll be your lunch date?”
Ellie hugged her friend. “I just might do that. Go have some fun with Josh.”
Autumn grinned as they parted. “Go get that man.”
“Hmmm.” Ellie glanced his way. “Seriously, though, a cowboy? You know my background.”
“Sure, but you know a lot of good ones. Your brothers are among them.” Autumn smiled. “Don’t let the bad ones chase you away.”
“I suppose you’re right.”
“Always am.” Autumn flashed a grin. “Full report expected.”
Ellie rolled her eyes. “Maybe.”
Autumn laughed, gave a little wave, then walked away. Ellie watched her for just a moment before turning back to look at the cowboy.
He wasn’t there anymore. She scanned the crowd, then found him with his shoulder hitched up against a tree. He appeared to be watching one of the shows scattered around the festival grounds.
Holy cow, the man was built. His cowboy shirt wasn’t tight, but with his broad shoulders and the way the fabric fit him, you could tell he had a hell of a body. And oh, my goodness, but his Wrangler jeans fit him perfectly. Nice and snug around the hips and thighs. She’d sure like to see his ass in them.
Yes, she had to admit she was intrigued. She strolled toward the cowboy, smiling. Her corset was snug around her chest, but her dress flowed around her hips and down to her shins. Her Renaissance outfit was authentic for a young maiden, neither of royalty nor a peasant.
She walked to the right and came up behind the tree he leaned against. She eased around the trunk until she stood on his left, her shoulder almost touching his. “Kind sir, methinks you are in the wrong century, cowboy.”
* * *
The lovely voice that spoke in an Old English accent brought Tucker’s attention to a beautiful woman who was now at his side. He hadn’t noticed her approaching.
The corner of his mouth curved as he studied her. Damn, she was gorgeous. Her wheat-colored hair flowed over her shoulders in soft waves, and long brown lashes framed her sea-blue eyes. She smelled of strawberry lip gloss.
He shifted his position so that he fully faced her, keeping his eyes on hers. “You have a nice voice.” He loved the sensuality in it and could listen to her for hours.
“Thank you.” She smiled, and it about knocked him off his feet. “I’m Ellie.” She spoke in a normal tone and extended her hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
“The pleasure is all mine.” A slow heat burned in his belly as he took her small hand. “I’m Tucker. I own a ranch outside of Gold Canyon.”
“Currently, I live in Chandler,” she said.
So, Ellie was a city girl.
She tipped her head to the side, her long hair sliding over her shoulder as she slipped her hand from his. “Cattle rancher?”
“Horses.” Damn, he just couldn’t keep his eyes off her.
She nodded toward the path lined with shops and food vendors. “Would you like to join me for a turkey drumstick and a tankard of ale?”
“Sounds mighty fine.” The aroma of roasted meats had been teasing his belly, and he’d been about ready to head off for something to fill it.
They fell into step together. “Now you know I raise horses. What keeps you busy?”
“I’m a social media expert.” She smiled up at him. “I also started doing voicework about two years ago.”
A gust of wind whipped around them, raising Ellie’s skirts to swirl around her knees. He allowed himself to sweep his gaze over her body as she bent to hold them down. He couldn’t help but notice the tops of her breasts swelling over the corset she wore.
He held back a groan. Holy hell, but he wanted to cup them in his hands. A hint of a darker pink appeared, so close to a nipple popping out. The ache in his groin was more than he’d ever felt when looking at a woman he didn’t even know.
She tugged up her corset as she straightened, and he tore his gaze from her breasts, hoping she hadn’t seen him staring.
He cleared his throat, willing the heat in his belly to return to a normal state. Damn, but his jeans felt tight. “I was here as a teenager, but didn’t try the turkey drumsticks. I take it you like them?”
“They’re a part of the experience.” Her sensual voice made it all the harder to bring himself under control, but he managed.
To his great relief, they reached a vendor who sold what they wanted. Ellie fished a small wallet out of a pocket sewn into her skirt, but he held his hand up in a motion that told her to put it away. “Being a city girl, you might not know that a cowboy always pays. Non-negotiable.”
Her lips curved, a hint of amusement in her eyes. “When you put it that way, I guess I’d be in for a fight otherwise. Thank you, kind sir.”
He placed their order and took the drumsticks the vendor handed him. He gave one to Ellie, then passed a cup of ale to her, and she thanked him.
They walked away. “Not exactly a tankard, but it’s ale.” She raised the cup. “Here’s to meeting new people.”
He raised his cup and touched it to hers. “To a beautiful woman who smells like strawberry lip gloss.”
She laughed and sipped the ale. “Not bad.”
Tucker took a bite of his roasted turkey, enjoying the savory flavor of the meat as he chewed. He swallowed. “Hits the spot.”
“Told ya.” Ellie took a smaller bite of her drumstick, and he couldn’t help but watch her as he ate his own.
After she chewed her bite and swallowed, she sipped her ale. She tipped her head and looked at him as they walked. “Do you always watch women as they eat?”
“Pardon me for staring.” He wasn’t sorry but didn
“Not that young.” She smiled. “Thank you for the compliments.” They continued walking through the village created for the fair. Some attendees wore modern clothing, but many were dressed in traditional Renaissance attire.
They stopped by a small crowd laughing in reaction to physical comedy performed by a man dressed as a court jester and another decked out as a huntsman. The huntsman bore a slight resemblance to Robin Hood, a legendary figure created in medieval times that gained even more popularity during the Renaissance.
Ellie took a few steps closer to the stage to watch, and Tucker moved beside her, arms folded across his chest.
Holding a bow, the huntsman squared off in front of the jester. The jester balanced an apple on his head. The huntsman drew an arrow from the quiver strapped across his back and nocked the arrow.
The jester made faces at the man with the bow, who calmly released the arrow. Fragments flew when the arrow sliced through the apple. The pieces rained down on the stage as the arrow stuck in the bullseye of a large target behind the jester. The audience cheered.
Ellie laughed, her eyes sparkling when she looked up at Tucker. “Would you like to stay with me and watch the show?”
He gave a nod and a smile, his face breaking into an amused expression.
The jester stuck his tongue out at the huntsman and made crude comments while he picked up a straw resting on the side of an upended crate. He held the straw so that it stuck up from his head, and he made grotesque faces that made the audience laugh.
Tucker studied the archer. The man nocked an arrow and drew the bowstring back. He released the arrow, and a moment later, it pinned the straw to the target, dead center in the bullseye.
“Time for a volunteer from the audience, if any are not faint of heart.” The jester scanned the crowd, ignoring raised hands. He grinned when his eyes rested on Ellie. “Wonderful of you to volunteer, Milady.”
“Me?” Ellie’s eyes widened as the jester jogged down the three steps from the stage straight for her. She stepped back, bumping against Tucker and trodding on his booted foot. “Uh, no—”
The jester leered and cackled when he grabbed Ellie by the wrist and dragged her up the steps and onto the stage. Tucker had to restrain himself from going after her, but if she truly had objected, he was sure she would have made it loud and clear.
* * *
Ellie’s heart thumped when the huntsman approached the target and removed the two arrows he’d shot. She straightened her spine and assumed her voice actor mode, drawing on her experience in voiceover work.
“Unhand me, sir.” Ellie jerked her arm from the jester and raised her chin as she spoke with emphasis in her Old English accent. “What is the meaning of this?”
“Come, dear. It is truly a small thing.” The jester looked delighted as she fell into the part, and he pushed Ellie toward the target.
“I shall scream.” She balked, but in the next moment, the jester and the huntsman grasped her arm on either side of her and guided her to the target.
“You are quite mad.” She struggled for show—and the men were much too strong to be dissuaded. “Release me,” she commanded.
The jester cackled. “It will be over soon, depending on whether you survive.”
Hoots, shouts, and laughter came from the audience. What did Tucker think of what was going on?
In mere seconds, they strapped her to the target by her arms and legs in a big X-marks-the-spot.
Despite her acting bravado, her heart raced. Was this huntsman really going to shoot at the target with her pinned to it? She’d seen these kinds of things, and he had to be a professional. If he’d ever hurt anyone, that would have been game over for his career. At least, that was what she assumed.
That did nothing to calm her fears. She continued to struggle against her bonds until the huntsman unslung his bow.
The jester patted her shoulder and gave a maniacal laugh. “You might wish to be still for this part.”
Ellie didn’t need to be told as the huntsman sighted the target and aimed. She screamed as he released the bowstring and then heard a soft thunk as the arrow penetrated the target near her right cheek.
Holy crap, that was too close.
Another thunk and an arrow quivered against her other cheek.
Okay, the arrows being so close to her was far too much. She wanted out of there.
“Enough is enough, boys.” The low cowboy drawl carried across the stage as Tucker pushed the huntsman’s arrow down before he could nock it.
“What is the meaning of this?” The jester stood in front of Tucker, hands on his hips. “Be gone, abomination!”
Tucker, who had to be six-four in his sock feet, looked even taller from his boots to the top of his Stetson. He towered over the smaller man before him, maybe five-six at best. Tucker picked up the jester by his upper arms, set the sputtering man aside, and strode toward Ellie.
He gave her a gentle look. “Ready to get out of here?”
“Yes, please.” She looked at him gratefully as he pulled out a pocketknife and made short work of the ropes pinning her to the target.
“My knight in shining Wranglers.” She projected the words in Old English, then gasped as Tucker scooped her up in his arms and carried her across the stage. Cheers came from the audience.
She rested her hand against his broad chest as she glanced at the huntsman and jester, who were doing their best to go along with what was happening.
The audience continued to cheer and shout as Tucker carried Ellie down the steps, the crowd clearly thinking this was all part of the show.
His embrace was so strong and comfortable that it sent warmth throughout her. His masculine scent filled her lungs, and she gripped his shirt in her fists, instinctively pressing herself closer.
When they were well away from the show, Tucker lowered her, and she slid from his arms until she stood on her own two feet again. She smiled up at him, brushing her clothes down.
“After that second arrow, I was ready to get out of there.” She straightened as she spoke. “Thank you, Tucker.”
“You’ve got a bit of apple in your hair.” His fingertips brushed her scalp, sending tingling sensations over her, as he removed the small fragments and let them drop to the dust. He smiled down at her. “I have to check on the horses in the stables. Interested in coming with me?”
“Why yes, kind sir.” She looped her arm in his and raised her chin. “I trust you will get me to the palace with haste.”
Amusement glittered in his moss-green eyes before he looked up and guided her through the vendors toward the jousting arena.
“You handled yourself well on stage.” He glanced at her. “It was convincing enough that I thought you might have arranged something earlier with that duo. But when I saw your eyes when that first arrow hit, I knew you didn’t want to be there.”
She blew out her breath and held her hand to her belly. “I still feel a little jittery from it. I thought they would have a plant in the audience for that act, someone who was okay with being shot at. So, I was more than surprised when the jester dragged me onstage.”
“You put on a fine show.” He rested his hand on her back, guiding her around a puddle and a pile of horse dung as they neared the arena. “You’re a natural.”
She shrugged. “I’ve always liked to do voices from the time I was young. Whenever I heard a new accent, I mimicked it until it sounded right.” She smiled at the memories of her childhood. “You should have heard my dolls chatting it up. Sometimes, each one of them would have a different accent.”
“Do you speak any languages other than Old English?”
She laughed. “I’m fluent in Spanish, and I’m fair with Japanese. I’d try to study another language if I had the time. Maybe Swedish or Italian.”
