Smitten by the Alien Saloon Owner, page 1
SMITTEN BY THE ALIEN SALOON OWNER
COWBOY COLONY MAIL-ORDER BRIDES
BOOK SEVEN
URSA DAX
NOTICES
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be copied, used, transmitted, or shared via any means without express authorization from the author, except for small passages and quotations used for review and marketing purposes.
This is a work of fiction. All characters, events, and incidents in this novel are fictitious and not to be construed as reality or fact.
Smitten by the Alien Saloon Owner © 2025 Peace Weaver Press Inc. President Veronica Doran
CONTENTS
CONTENT NOTES
1. Rivven
2. Shiloh
3. Shiloh
4. Shiloh
5. Rivven
6. Shiloh
7. Rivven
8. Shiloh
9. Rivven
10. Shiloh
11. Rivven
12. Shiloh
13. Rivven
14. Shiloh
15. Shiloh
16. Rivven
17. Shiloh
18. Shiloh
19. Rivven
20. Shiloh
21. Rivven
CONTENT NOTES
For full content notes, please visit my website.
1
RIVVEN
“Say cheese!” cried Tasha, the human-Zabrian liaison, as she raised her data tab to take a picture.
She was no longer simply a human-Zabrian liaison, though. She was also Warden Tenn’s wife. I had been there for their wedding. We all had. It had taken place right here, on the property of my saloon. Her husband, Warden Tenn, stood just behind her now, his purple arms crossed over the clean fabric of his warden’s uniform. There was no doubt in my mind that if I did not comply with his tiny human wife’s command, then he would find a way to make me do it.
I had no real reason not to listen to her, even if I did not quite understand her motivations yet.
“Cheese,” I said, mystified.
“Oh. Shoot.” She lowered her data tab. “I didn’t account for the translation difference. That really didn’t pull your mouth into the shape I was hoping for.”
“What shape were you hoping for?”
Whatever she wanted, no matter how unnatural, I would find a way to do it. This project was an important one. Tasha was taking our pictures in order to share more about us with the human population at large. Essentially, she was advertising our availability as worthwhile husbands. Our status as convicted murderers, exiled to this distant ranching outpost planet, was a heavy strike against us. Tasha hoped to help prospective human brides see past our status as criminals. She had told us several times that many human women would find us attractive enough to give us a chance at getting to know them.
I only hoped that she was right.
“I was just looking for a smile,” Tasha explained. “But don’t worry about it, Rivven. How about you just go about your normal routine? Pretend we aren’t here.”
Pretend they were not here? That would be difficult, considering the fact that the dining room of my saloon currently housed Warden Tenn and Tasha, as well as the men from my own province. Warden Hallum stood straight-spined behind a table where Dorn and Xennet were currently seated, awaiting their own photoshoots.
“My normal routine,” I echoed uncertainly. I did not see what would be so attractive about me polishing glasses or butchering bracku. But I also had to admit that Tasha would know much more about human women and their preferences than I would. I scooped an empty glass onto the blunt, scarred end of my right wrist. Then, I grasped a rag in my left – and only – hand, rubbing it over the glass.
I was aware of Tasha moving throughout the space with her data tab, presumably taking pictures with it as I stood somewhat awkwardly behind the counter.
“How about you come on out and do that here?” Tasha suggested, tapping a spot on the floor in front of her with her foot. “Then I’ll get your legs in the shot. The boots really do look great in the photos.”
“And do something interesting with your tail,” Warden Tenn piped up as I walked around the counter to the place Tasha had indicated. “Human females appreciate the power of a prehensile tail.”
“Tenn!” Tasha gasped. She sounded offended, or maybe embarrassed. I did not know her well enough to tell.
“Do…Do they not appreciate a tail?” I asked.
Humans did not have tails. Maybe that meant I should merely keep mine hidden behind me for now, looped around its belt hook. Perhaps, once a human woman liked my photo enough to choose me, I could reveal that part of my anatomy to her.
“No! No, it’s not that!” Tasha said hurriedly. “Tenn was just making a very inappropriate comment.”
She narrowed her eyes at her husband while he smirked. If she had been Zabrian, I had no doubt her eyes would be glowing bright white with irritation at whatever transgression Warden Tenn seemed to be guilty of.
“I’m trying not to objectify them too much!” she added on a hiss aimed at her husband. What the blazes that meant was anyone’s guess.
It seemed I was not the only one in ignorance.
“What does that mean?” Dorn asked.
Tasha’s cheeks were very red now.
“I just mean…I don’t want to reduce you down to anything, er, degrading. I want to make sure to showcase you as people, not just parts!”
“Of course they are people,” Warden Tenn said in a brisk, matter-of-fact tone. “They are people with tails. And those tails can do some very beneficial things. Especially when slipped inside a-”
“Stop!” Tasha squawked. “Stop now!”
“I do not mind being an object if it gets me a wife,” Xennet said. He stood and stepped in front of the table, then bent his knees at right angles, squatting with his arms out. “Here. I present myself as a chair. Take a picture, Tasha! Show the human females I could be a chair for them.”
“Oh, Xennet,” she said. “That’s not-”
“He likely will not leave that position until you do it,” Warden Hallum said.
With a resigned little sigh and a shake of her head, Tasha raised her data tab briefly, then lowered it again.
“Good,” Xennet said, finally straightening up. “Now, any human female can see that she will never lack a place to sit while I am around! A clear indication that I can provide her with any comfort, chair-like or otherwise!”
“Very helpful,” Tasha said in a strangled sort of tone. “Thank you Xennet.”
But apparently, he was not finished.
“What about this?” He extended his arms above his head, smacking the palms of his hands together until his entire body was stretched to a green-skinned, purple-haired point. “Now I am a knife!”
“I…I don’t know if that’s necessarily a selling point,” Tasha said doubtfully.
To which Xennet replied, “Nonsense! A knife is a very useful thing!” He lowered his hands, his eyes suddenly gone bright white. “Make sure that you include some of my many knives in my final picture! I would not wish my future wife to think I did not have one! Or several!”
“We’re trying to make them see how normal and non-violent you are,” Warden Hallum said, his tone like ice.
“You’re going to look insane,” Dorn added bluntly. “More insane than you already are. Actually, maybe Tasha should do it. Photograph you in front of your entire collection of blades. Might as well make sure the poor female who chooses you knows what she’s in for.”
“Have you got any knives on you now, Xennet?” I asked, eyeing a bulge in his right boot with sudden suspicion.
“No,” he said, even while he shifted that boot behind the leg of the table.
Frowning, I kept my glass where it was and used my tail to jab at one of the signs hanging behind the counter. “You know the rules.” I pointed again with my tail and noticed Tasha raise her data tab to take a picture.
Like usual, Xennet made a scoffing remark about how he could not read my signs. Of all of us, he had been convicted and pulled from his education at the youngest age.
“I know you’ve got them memorized,” I countered. I certainly reminded him of the rules often enough. Rules that also included things such as Keep your trousers on and No pissing in the glasses.
“No, I don’t!” he replied. Then immediately added, “Besides, the sign says ‘no brandishing weapons inside,’ and I have brandished nothing. Nothing beyond my own body’s ability to take on the quality of any object a human female may require. Look, Tasha! Take a picture of this!” He flopped down onto the floorboards, lying flat on his back. “Now I am a bed!”
“A bed with a knife in it,” Dorn muttered.
“I think I’ll just focus on Rivven for now,” Tasha said kindly. She really did have astonishingly generous stores of patience in her, even for idiots like Xennet. Xennet, who’d shown up at her wedding with a fistful of wood lice ready to throw upon her head because he’d misunderstood the human wedding tradition involving something called “rice.”
The fact that I’d prepared a tray of ice to throw at her was not at all relevant.
Lice were obviously worse.
“Should I just keep doing this?” I asked, raising the glass I was polishing. I could not help but feel that I was somehow failing already. But then again, was there really anything I could do to prove myself a worthy husband to a pretty human woman?
Tasha seemed to think so. Even though I was not entirely convinced.
“Here,” she said, coming over to stand beside me and holding her data tab in front of the both of us. “Want some inspiration? These are the pictures I’ve taken of the men in Warden Tenn’s province.
She slid the pad of her clawless finger along the screen, scrolling through images of men I’d never met. “There’s Silar, Fallon, Garrek, Oaken.” She rhymed off their names as she swiped. By this time, both Dorn and Xennet had crept over to examine the images as well.
“They all have very nice hair,” Dorn grumbled under his breath. He fingered the choppy ends of his own brownish-red strands with an air of self-conscious jealousy. Back in the summer, his hair had gotten caught upon a bracku’s antlers. In order to avoid getting gored, he’d hacked off his hair with a knife. The result was a very short, ugly style that, even after growing all this time, still barely reached past his shoulders.
Better his hair than his hand...
“Sure,” Tasha said in response. “But don’t worry, Dorn. Long hair isn’t a universally attractive thing for humans. Lots of humans have very short hair. Or no hair at all.”
“None at all?” Dorn asked, thunderstruck. I was hardly any less surprised. I looked at Dorn and Xennet and tried to picture them without any hair, their scalps smooth as eggs. I doubted even Xennet, who was an exceptionally good-looking male, could pull it off. But Tasha only nodded, her expression sincere.
“Yup, absolutely. Sometimes people shave it off. Or the hair thins out over time due to age or hormones or medication.” She lifted and let her shoulders fall, a uniquely human gesture. “It’s really not a big deal at all.”
“Alright,” Dorn finally said. Though he still fiddled with the ends of his hair, as if not entirely reassured.
“Oh, I recognize that one!” Xennet exclaimed suddenly as Tasha resumed showing us the pictures on her data tab. “That is the shouty pink surgeon!”
“Zohro.” I said his name, remembering him as well. Like Xennet, he had a classically handsome face. Unlike Xennet, he possessed an air of absolute competence about him. We’d watched him perform surgery on Warden Tenn on one of the tables in this very saloon. He’d saved the warden’s life.
“Yes, that’s Zohro. And here he is with his wife, Jolene, and their daughter, Autumn,” Tasha said, swiping to another picture. “This one isn’t going to be published. We’ve decided to keep Baby Autumn’s image private.”
“That is his daughter?” I asked, my brows shooting upwards. “His wife has already conceived?”
The baby looked entirely human to me, but what did I know about how Zabrians and humans might mix?
“Jolene was pregnant when she arrived,” Tasha explained. “The biological father was human.”
“Ah.” For some reason, I felt a bit deflated by this fact.
“Although…” She glanced back at Warden Tenn. They shared a look between them. “Although,” she said again, quietly, as if she shared some secret, “one of the other brides is pregnant. From her Zabrian husband. It is possible.”
“By the blazes!” Xennet exclaimed, his eyes white as moons. “I could be a father? Tasha! Please put that as a caption to my image! Write, ‘Xennet: Husband. Chair. Knife. Bed. And most excellent future father!’” He stared intently at her face. “I will not be able to read it. But I will trust you to put my words down faithfully!”
“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, Xennet,” she said quickly. She patted his arm. “Let’s just take this one step at a time.”
“But it is possible?” Everyone turned to look at me. My voice had come out ragged, like someone had dragged it over ten spans of gravel before forcing it up out of my throat. “Possible to have a child?”
I’d never even expected something as incredible as the chance at a wife. That alone seemed to me to belong only to the realm of dreams. A perfect fantasy, the sort that dissipates upon waking and leaves you feeling vaguely haunted.
But a child...
Xennet bounded away from us, already forgetting Tasha’s request to take things one step at a time. “Look here, Tasha!” he cooed, snatching up a sack of flour from behind my counter. He cradled it in his arms with a surprisingly gentle tenderness. “Look how well I can hold a baby!”
“That’s not a baby. That’s my flour,” I grunted. “Drop it.”
He did so at once. The sack hit the floor with a powdery thud and exploded.
“Blast!” Xennet groaned, clomping out from behind the counter, leaving footprints with his now entirely white boots. “Tasha, do human females enjoy a...a rather dusty sort of male? Or should I change my boots?”
“Uh…” Tasha looked like she did not know what to say to this.
But I knew what to say.
“Before you change your boots or do anything else,” I growled, “you’re going to clean up the mess you just made.”
“Why should I?” he asked blankly. “It is your flour.”
“But you’re the one who dropped it!” I shot back. Obviously, a new sign was in order. Xennet shall clean up his own messes, lest he be tossed out of the saloon on his tail.
“I may have dropped the flour,” Xennet argued, “but it is only because you told me to. I was being rather agreeable, I think. Besides, it is not my fault that the sack you stored the flour in was not strong enough to withstand the fall!”
“‘Not strong enough to withstand the fall,’” Dorn repeated with a snort. “It is a very good thing that was not an actual child…”
“I would not have been so careless with a child,” Xennet snapped impatiently, as if we should have known such a thing about him by now, even though everything we’d ever witnessed him do seemed to prove precisely the opposite. “And even if I had been that careless, a child would have fared much better! It certainly would not have exploded all over my boots in such a fashion. Children are far more durable. They’ve got those bouncy, bendy little bones…”
“Bendy little…Jesus Christ,” Tasha whispered.
“Enough.” Warden Hallum’s voice fell like a hammer, despite the fact that he did not shout. “Xennet, clean up this mess and then sort out your boots. Rivven, let’s get your picture done so we have time for the other two. It will be dark soon.”
Warden Hallum was right. Autumn was at its end. Though it was only afternoon, the sun was already dipping towards the horizon outside, sending shadows stretching. A cold wind rustled the few leaves that remained clinging to the branches of the fruit trees in my gardens. We’d likely get our first snow of the winter season soon.
“Right,” I said. I glanced once more at Tasha’s data tab, though it had gone dark with inactivity. “All the other men were posing outside in their pictures,” I said to her. “Should I do the same?”
I did not have an entire bracku herd of my own like all the other men. But I had my shuldu and my gardens, my eggbirds and my stables. And I did have one lone, adult bracku with a calf – both of them female.
Even now, even after all this time, I could not go near a fully-grown male bracku without my heart seizing in my chest and my missing right hand throbbing as if it were still attached to me, mangled beyond recognition.
It made me worry that a human woman might not want me. Because I could not manage a herd as the others did.
But Tasha’s next words helped dispel at least a little of that fear.
“The saloon is so wonderful,” she said. “All this beautiful wood. I think it’s worth showing off in your pictures. We’ll take a few more in here, but we can also take some outside, if you’d like. And I’ll take Dorn’s and Xennet’s pictures outside as well.”
“What sort of publication will this be?” Dorn asked. “Where will the pictures all go when you are finished taking them?”
“Oh, that’s easy. We’re going to start with a calendar,” she said, a smile brightening her pretty face.
