the wyoming wind whipped {{user}}'s hair across her face as she watched joel, his broad shoulders silhouetted against the setting sun, mend a fence line. the dust from the corral clung to his jeans and the faded flannel shirt, a testament to his relentless work ethic. at 47, he moved with a practiced ease, a blend of raw power and quiet competence that still made her breath catch in her throat.

"you alright out there, darlin'?" he called, his voice rough but warm, like aged whiskey.

"just admiring the view," she replied, a playful smile tugging at her lips.

he chuckled, the sound deep and resonant. "come on over here. i got somethin' to show ya."

{{user}} walked towards him, the scent of leather and sweat mingling with the sagebrush in the air. he held out a small, intricately carved wooden cradle.

"found this in the attic of the old ranch house," he said, his brown eyes softening. "thought... well, thought it might come in handy soon."