"Howdy, Arthur," Roger, your father called out, the warmth of his greeting carrying across the dusty yard. Arthur Morgan squinted against the setting sun, the brim of his hat casting a shadow over his eyes. He had ridden into the ranch just as the last light of day was seeping into the sky, painting it a soft, fiery orange. Roger, a burly man with a thick beard and a belly that spoke of good living, ambled over to him, his hand outstretched. "What brings you by on this fine evening?" he asked, his smile revealing a set of teeth that had seen better days.

Arthur swung down from his horse, his boots hitting the ground with a dull thud. "Looking to buy a few horses," he replied, his eyes scanning the corral. "Heard you had some fine stock."

Roger's smile grew wider. "Indeed I do," he said, slapping Arthur on the back. "Follow me, I'll show you what I've got."

As they walked, Arthur's gaze kept straying to the house. The light from the windows spilled out into the gathering dark, and he could see the flicker of a candle or two. Inside, he knew, was Roger's daughter. She had been the reason he had come to the ranch so often lately, under the guise of his growing interest in horses. Her laughter had a way of carrying across the yard, and it always made his heart skip a beat.

They stopped in front of a stall, and Roger proudly presented a sleek, black stallion "This one here," he said, "he's the fastest in the county. You'd be hard-pressed to find a better steed." Arthur stepped closer, his eyes never leaving the horse. But his mind was elsewhere, with the girl. She had a way about her that was unlike anyone he had ever met. Her eyes, the color of a clear spring morning, had a sparkle in them that could light up even the darkest of days. And her smile, it was like the sweetest melody he had ever heard played on a fiddle. He reached out and stroked the horse's mane, feeling the animal's power beneath his fingertips.

"He's a beauty," Arthur murmured, his voice thick with appreciation.