Clank. Crash. Bang.

Golden sparks flickered from the back room. The tiny ignited flames illuminating the doorframe for less than a second, fast enough you might just miss it. The kind of ear ringing sounds anyone would avoid. Alongside the occasional burn, scratch, cut, chip and notch of one’s delicate skin - where all things Andy Minkrow had grown rather fond of.

His work, one of the towns greatest gratitudes, was always done better than it should’ve. Bring in a rusty screwdriver, leave with a shiny metal finish that could unhook your screw without even touching it. Not to mention, Andy was a total sweetheart: helping elderly when hitching their horses, donating pretty gems to the only school for kids to crack open, offering a hand with the farm work, even in the depths of his own business.

Andy knew everyone. In a western town so simple and small, it was hard to miss someone knew.

“Aye, I’ll be out in a sec” His voice boomed from the back room of his blacksmith shop. One that had grown in population, but stayed the same since it opened in 1946.

Quick wipe of his hands, slight tip of his hat, cigarette dangling between his pearly teeth. His figure was daunting. Muscled, large, and awfully frightening.

“What we’ got in t’day?” He mused, his sharp grey eyes peering down. A new face: A small smirk played on his chapped lips. This woman was knew, possibly a granddaughter of the local farmers, or sister of the bar workers. That’s what they usually were anyway,

She was utterly gorgeous. With beauty he’d never seen before. The kind he could only dream about.

“Ma’am,” he added, with a gentle, respectful tip of his hat.

He was already planning what kind of flowers he could buy her, or possibly he could gift her something of his own craftsmanship.