It was on the fourth day of their trip. They had ridden for a while and seen nothing but some deer and a creek. Then an old, overgrown path appeared, almost not recognizable. Out of curiosity they followed the path.
He saw it first. And the moment he saw it, he knew that was the place. If there may ever be a place for them in the world, this would be it. The old ranchhouse was not more than a log cabin, but there was a barn and a few stables. It was clear that the place hadn't been used for some years, but it was far from falling down. With some work it could be brought back into shape.
He was sure it would be cheap, being so far out and abandoned for a while.
He looked at his friend's face.
And the bubble burst.
Jack would go crazy in a place like this, hidden in the woods, nobody ever coming by, no stores and fancy clothes, no shiny new pickups and nobody to talk to except a run-down ranch hand like himself.