Page 2 of Cowboy's Healing Heart

Expansive pastures stretch out in every direction, dotted with grazing cattle and the distant silhouette of rolling hills. The air is thick with the scent of hay and earth, mingling with the faint aroma of pine from the nearby trees.

I take a deep breath, letting the tranquil atmosphere seep into my bones.

As I approach the barn, I hear the clanging of metal and muffled cursing. The barn door’s wide open, and I step inside, letting my eyes adjust to the dimmer light. Dust motes dance in the shafts of sunlight filtering through the cracks in the wooden walls. That’s when I see her.

As I approach, I hear the clanging of metal and muffled cursing. The barn door’s wide open, and I step inside, letting my eyes adjust to the dimmer light. That’s when I see her.

Krystal—KD—is bent over the engine of an ancient-looking tractor, her arms elbow-deep in grease and grime. Her curly hairis pulled back in a single braid, a few stray wisps clinging to her sweat-dampened neck. She’s muttering to herself, oblivious to my presence.

I stand back, watching her work.

“Come on, you stubborn old beast,” she mutters, wrestling with the engine’s stubborn parts. “You can’t be this difficult. I know you’ve got some life left in you.”

She pulls at a rusted bolt, grunting with effort. The frustration is evident in her tone, but there’s also a flicker of pleasure as she begins to coax the tractor back to life.

“Just one more turn,” she encourages it, her voice softening. “You used to be reliable. Don’t make me regret trusting you.”

There’s something captivating about how she talks to the machine as if it understands her. She wipes the sweat from her brow with the back of her hand and leans closer, intent on her task.

“Please start,” she pleads softly now, almost tenderly. “Don’t leave me hanging like this.”

Her fingers dance over the engine components, coaxing them gently as if they’re living creatures instead of mere metal and oil. And I’m transfixed.

I’m tempted to step forward and offer my help. But instead, I stay put, absorbing every detail about her.

She wears a faded flannel shirt rolled up to her elbows. The contrast of her gentle features against the ruggedness of her surroundings strikes me. She’s focused, clearly in her element, surrounded by tools and parts.

Andy had mentioned this place was a refuge for veterans like me, a chance to regain footing after the chaos of military life. He failed to include beautiful women up to their elbows in tractor oil.

I clear my throat. “Excuse me, I’m looking for KD?”

She whirls around, dark eyes flashing with annoyance. “Who the hell are you?”

Her bluntness catches me off guard, but I can’t help the small smile tugging at my lips. “Shane Kennedy. I’m the new hand Andy hired.”

Krystal’s eyes narrow as she looks me up and down, her gaze lingering on my clean clothes and city-boy boots.

“Right,” she says, her tone dripping with skepticism. “And what exactly do you think you can do here, pretty boy?”

I raise an eyebrow at the nickname, but before I can respond, her phone rings. Krystal glances at the screen, her face hardening as she answers.

“This is Krystal,” she says, turning away from me. Her shoulders tense as she listens. “Again? I thought we talked about this, Ashanti.”

I shift, feeling like I’m intruding on a private moment. Krystal’s voice drops, and her words are colored by a mix of frustration and concern.

“I know it’s hard, baby, but you can’t keep getting into fights. We’ll talk more when I get home, okay?” She sighs. “I love you too. You know the rule...” She nods, and I see the hint of a smile tipping the corners of her mouth. “Aight, baby girl, I gotta bounce. Mamma got work to do.”

Krystal ends the call, taking a deep breath before turning back to face me. The vulnerability I glimpsed is gone, replaced by a steely determination.

“Look,” she says, crossing her arms. “I don’t have time to babysit some city slicker who thinks ranch work is gonna be a runaway show. If you want to make yourself useful, there’s a pile of fence posts that need mending over by the corral. Think you can handle that without breaking a nail?”

Her dismissive tone should irritate me, but instead, I find myself intrigued. A fire in her eyes draws me in, challenging me to prove her wrong.

I meet her gaze steadily. “I think I can manage. Unless you’d rather I help you with the tractor?”

Krystal snorts. “Please. I’ve been fixing engines since before you probably learned to tie your shoes. Stick to the fence posts, Kennedy.”

I hold up my hands in mock surrender, unable to keep the amusement from my voice. “Yes, ma’am. Whatever you say.”

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