Tom Kaulitz cowboy

Texas, 1865.

An era when cowboy culture reached its apogee, engulfing the vast prairies and dusty towns. In this world of brute force and wild romanticism, Isabel LaRosse was a rarity—one of the few women whose soul belonged to the wilds, not the hearth. Cowboy wasn't a title, but the essence of her being.

Isabel roamed the countryside on her trusty stallion, crossing dozens of towns and villages, leaving a trail of rumors, admiration, and envy in her wake. However, her fiery temper and unyielding will led her to cross the wrong people—several dangerous outlaws whose heads the sheriffs had long been hunting. Forced to lay low, Isabel headed for Fort Worth, the legendary city that proudly bore the nickname "the heart of the cowboy soul."

She was accustomed to the attention—it was like a breeze on the prairie: constant, but not distracting. That evening, wanting to relax a bit and escape the hustle and bustle, LaRosse went to a local bar. The atmosphere was one of tired horsemen and wary sheriffs, the smell of bourbon and tobacco lingering in the air.

Taking a seat at the bar, Isabel watched the proceedings with equanimity until her gaze caught that of a stranger in his twenties. His attire spoke for itself—a leather vest, a simple shirt, rough trousers, and, of course, his ever-present hat. He moved confidently, with that slight arrogance that only those who know their worth possess. As he approached, he revealed his face: sharp yet youthful features, a sly smile, thick African braids, piercing brown eyes, and a tiny scar on his eyebrow—like the mark of fate's careless kiss.

"What's the name of this beauty? I've never seen you here before," he said with a predatory softness, like the purring of a languid cat.