Visitors from out of town arrive via the train station!

Trees, trees and yet still more trees. Izzy sat on the train, resting her forehead against the window. It was pretty, if monotonous. Every once in a while there was a rare glimpse of a clearing though. And through the clearing? Yet more trees. She sighed.

The ranch would be an opportunity, she reminded herself. Sure the city was full of activity and crowds and life- her life until recently- but the ranch would be nice. A break from the chaos, an escape from the damned recession.

When she got the letter in the mail, it had seemed like a good idea. Or at least a better option than drowning in debt and having a bit of food on the table seemed like a luxury. She took the letter out of her pocket and read it over one more time.

Dearest Isabel,

I remember fondly those summer days when you would visit me at my ranch. Long days of chasing through the fields or seeing what you could catch in the lake. Afternoons lounging atop the bull as he grazed. I'm sure the memories are just as warm for you as I.

Izzy smiled as she read. Grandpa had always been a bit oblivious, though well intentioned.

She had spent afternoons not frolicking through the grasses but being literally chased by bees. It had taken diving into the lake to finally shake them. Afterwards, when she had emerged with a fish in her shirt, Grandpa had been so proud. She hadn't had the heart to correct him.

As for the "lounging" on the bull? She'd been unconscious from heat stroke. It was a miracle it hadn't been more serious.

It was such a shame when you moved away to the city. I know it has been many a year since we were last together, but I feel that as I prepare my final wishes, there is none that I would like to care for this place more than you.

That line caused no small measure of concern every time she read it. She was, at the end of the day, a city girl born and bred. That there wasn’t anyone better suited to take up the mantle was more than a little worrying.

The train pulled into the station and Izzy tucked the note away. She gathered up her one suitcase of clothes and necessities with a grimace.

Gramps had not, of course, thought to provide fare to get to the ranch. It had taken selling most of her remaining possessions to afford the trip. Still, what was done was done and she was here. She'd make the best of it.

The station was small- not much beyond a handful of benches and signboards crowded onto a concrete foundation. Judging by the amount of furniture crammed onto the space, it used to be a busier, albeit still modest, stop. Also judging by those same standards, it hadn't been for quite a while.

That was fine. Izzy had known when she made her choice that life would be different. Be quieter. Besides, just because there wasn’t traffic in and out of the village anymore didn’t mean there weren’t still interesting people here.

The ranch was an easy walking distance from the train stop and so Izzy set out, suitcase trundling along behind her. If she looked behind, the village rose up at the end of the path. She could just make out a sign of some sort of local shop, and what might be a plaza. It was quite cute- quaint even.

Maybe she could stop by in the evenings. A few friends and this place may start to feel like home yet. The rest of the short walk was spent on half formed dreams and wishes for the future, for her new home and new life.

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A thought tickled the back of her mind that she was forgetting something. She set that worry aside. There would be enough time in the morning to sort out details. For now, she just wanted to get to the ranch before night truly set.

It was not to be, however. As she reached the entrance and gazed inside her new property, the end of her grandpa's letter came sharply to mind.

It is not quite as you remember; in my old age I have been less able to care for the place. I have no doubt that your youthful energy will soon restore the ranch from the small disarray that it has fallen. I am aware that you have your own life and may not wish to leave it, but when you ever want to take a break from the hectic city life, Overcast Meadows will be waiting for you.

Love,

Gramps

Ahh, yes. That.

Weeds covered the grounds, well over waist high. Fallen trees and rock outcroppings lay scattered what might have been fields. A few half destroyed wooden frames rose out of the foliage, seemingly scattered at random.

How had it even gotten this bad since her visits a decade ago? Did she just not remember the husks of buildings scattering the property? And this was ‘small disarray’?

Izzy sighed. She could already feel a headache beginning to build and take residence in her temples. That was a problem for future-Izzy. Tomorrow she could, well, she didn't even know where to start. Start figuring out where to start? She shook her head. For now, sleep.

Tucked to the side of the gate was a cottage. It probably used to be cute, just like the town. Now the best she could say is that it still stood and there would be a roof over her head. One more thing to add to the growing to-do list.

She studied the building as she fought her way through the weeds and rocks. She may have been a bit hasty on the claims of a roof; there was at least one large, obvious hole in what looked like a thatch roof.

At least she thought it was thatch- was that even used in construction any more? The windows were boarded up, and shutters drooped on their hinges. The deck had clearly been in the process of being torn up at some point. And on what remained of the deck, standing to the side of the door was a man.

Izzy blinked. She really needed sleep. Had he been standing there the whole time? He was far from subtle. From the tailored suit to matching top hat, his whole appearance screamed 'notice me'. She certainly should have noticed. Regardless, it didn't matter, he was here now.

She squared her shoulders and strode confidently to the cottage. At least she attempted to stride confidently; not two steps into her approach, the wheel of her suitcase lodged between two rocks. She glanced over her shoulder as she tugged at her luggage- the man still stared vaguely in her direction, unmoving. It was more than a little creepy, if she was honest.

With a pop, her case jerked free and sent her stumbling backwards. Great first impression.

As she approached, the man finally moved. He swept his hat off with a flourish and bowed before her. "Welcome! Welcome," he said. "I'm Mayor Rayburn, and I must say, it's good you finally made it, Isabel."

Izzy stepped back. "How do you know my name? I'm fairly certain we've never met before."

The man grinned and replaced his hat atop his head. "Why wouldn't I know your name, little Isabel? Your grandpap never stopped talking about you."

Izzy looked away, "Actually, just call me Iz-"

Her words were buried under the slow, but inexorable drawl of the man. "My condolences, by the by. You two must have been close, and though it is no replacement, the whole town mourns with you."

"Ahh, yes, well-"

"Still, it'll be good to have some young blood in this place." The man turned to study the rundown shack he stood beside. "She's seen better days, but I'm sure you'll get everything up and going in a jiffy."

Izzy cleared her throat loudly. "About that, how woul-"

"We don't expect you to do everything by yourself, of course." The man turned his grin back to her. It was off somehow, and she couldn't place it. It sat right in the deepest depths the of uncanny valley. "The town carpenter will visit in the morning and tell you everything you need to know about. You just go ahead and get settled in now." With that the man turned and started down the steps.

Izzy turned after him. "Wait! You haven't answered anything."

At that the man stopped and turned around. "I almost forgot," he said as he dug into his pockets and pulled out a large handful of something. He shoved it in Izzy's direction. "I found this guy hanging out on the deck. I guess he's yours now."

He handed Izzy an orange ball of fluff and then strode off. The ball opened its eyes and looked up at Izzy. "Mrew?"

"Oh, oh no. Wait, sir? Mayor!" But her pleas fell on deaf ears; the mayor had already vanished. With a soft sigh, Izzy whispered into the night, "I'm allergic."