It was built in nineteen thirty-two. White with a silver roof. It appeared to be cradled by a hill that climbed much higher behind it. A large, old pine tree stood beside it, far older than even the house. A broken fence outlined the front yard, opposite the covered porch with two gables flanking the front door. A bay window and the upper story faced the dirt road, and the back had another gable over a smaller side-porch. A glassed-in breakfast nook or storm room was around the other side too. From a distance it was quaint, picturesque, and ancient. Just an old farmhouse. But a perfect relic of its age.
Beyond the gate was the driveway, a long, potholed path of dirt that circled around to end in front of the dilapidated front yard and fence. The rutted entrance was a challenge to any vehicle. Asher pulled up to the broken wooden gate and stopped his truck.
Up close, everything changed. Peeling paint, splintered wood, and an endless array of problems characterized it. Too many to list. An outhouse with the door facing the hillside, not the main house, was about a hundred feet away from one side of the house.
Many additions and modern conveniences were added over the years and thankfully, some upgrades were made. Things like indoor plumbing at one point. The barns told the same story. But at least they were still standing. It was once a stately home. Probably belonging to a wealthy family. The aridity and dry climate kept it from rotting and froze it forever in time.
Now? Being empty for decades, insects and rodents had infested most of it.
Off the beaten track was one way to describe it. In comparison, the Rydell River Ranch seemed like a metropolis.
One side of the farmhouse faced uphill, towards the mountains. A flat, previously cultivated, huge expanse of field provided the view on that side. Down the valley from the house were sloping hills that reached the creek and beyond. Some of the fence still remained, but he could easily repair the weak spots well enough to sustain a herd of cattle.
He got out of the truck and Daisy followed, turning around to stare at the unexpected sight. Not one house or building was visible in the distance. Far beyond the sloping stretch of hills. Fields and pastures with antique, rusting farm equipment dotted the property. On the horizon, the black mountains disappeared, replaced by miles of cobalt-blue sky. It was a refreshing oasis on this desolate, forgotten mountain prairie.
“Wow. What is this place?”
“The old Riesling ranch.”
“Talk about a view.”
“Yeah. Pretty different from the Rydell River Valley, huh?”
“I’m not sure I ever came this far.” Dirt roads extended everywhere into the mountainous vistas and went on for miles and miles. Few locals were aware of all of them.
“Yeah, it’s pretty desolate out here.” He shut the truck door.
Jumping the rickety gate, he took a shortcut across the yard to get to the front door. Daisy followed.
“Is it okay if we’re here?”
“It’s been for sale for fifteen years. They just dropped the price again. Yeah, I’m sure no one will ever know we came.”
“Oh. Okay.” She was clueless and puzzled as to why they came there.
Walking forward, they entered the barn first. There were no front doors, and the sudden gloom and fine dust made Asher sneeze as he blinked to adjust his eyes. Sounds of scurrying animals accompanied their entrance. Daisy squealed and leaned closer towards him. “Rats!”
He gave her a little half-shove as he shook his head. “I’m so disappointed. Daisy Rydell being scared of pack-rats? Come on, I expected better from you. You know, anything left unattended for a length of time, never mind, decades, is appealing to rodents, especially pack-rats.”
Her entire body convulsed. “Doesn’t mean I have to like them. Why aren’t the Rieslings living here now?”
“They ran a cattle ranch until their drunken son, who is now in his late fifties, refused to take care of it. He was useless. He hasn’t farmed or cared for anything in more than twenty years. He tried to sell it for at least fifteen years but the price was outrageously high. Now it’s dropped below market value. He must need the cash for something.”
“That’s where you come in?”
“That’s the plan.”
They went inside. “How old do you think this barn is? The wood looks ancient.”
“Late eighteen hundreds. Maybe early nineteen hundreds. Definitely predates the house.”
They walked around the clutter and debris from broken farm implements. An old, rusty truck as well as tractors, baling machines and the like littered the area. “They were never very neat, not even a hundred years ago, I’m guessing.”
“No. Never.”
“Was it only that family who owned it?”
“Yes. I researched it a bit. They owned almost everything, including the hills around here at one time, but slowly sold it off as the farm crops failed and the cattle prices dropped. Several times, they sold the land because they needed large infusions of cash. Perhaps for property taxes or maybe their son’s gambling addiction. Not sure. But what you see now is all they have left.”
She shuddered as she slid her hand on the antique plough that would have been hitched to a horse. “I hope that day never comes to the Rydell River Ranch. Someone walking around the old Rydell barns and talking about what the family used to be. Rifling through decades of family belongings left to rot, infested with rats and mice.”
He simply laughed. “That day will never come to the Rydell spread. There’re too many of you. Too much history and discipline instilled in those who run it. Plus, you all are neat as shipmates and any detritus is stacked up and cared for. Rats are not allowed to proliferate. The Rydells are fully capable of surviving any changes in the future. They pivot and prevail. They add and take away. They bite the bullet, but they always overcome the trials of the new world order.”
“I would like to think so. But it’s impossible to predict.”
“No. It’s not. Not with such prime land. All that river frontage and all those views? You could exclude the horses and still be a resort and destination spot. That’s not going away. So, you never have to fear someone like me picking through the relics of your family homestead and barns.”
“Will they take all this stuff with them?”
“Nope. Selling it as is, with all the equipment and land you see.”
“I mean, some of it is junk, but who doesn’t want to keep stuff that was once in the family? I don’t get that at all. I could never just leave my family’s stuff to disintegrate. Like on those pawn shop shows when people find some relic of their beloved grandparents from World War II or something. I shudder at the heartlessness. Never. History and sentimentality would always outweigh any obsolescence.”
He tilted his head. “I never expected you to be so sentimental.”
“Why not?”
“You plan to live and work in New York, not here. So, that’s the first clue.”
She waved her hand around. “I want to try something new and different. That’s what you do in your twenties. You have to figure it out. But permanently? No. Nah.”
“Where do you foresee yourself permanently?”
She snorted as she started to leave the dark gloom of the barn. “No idea where I’ll be next year, so slow down on the life forecast. You’re a real planner, aren’t you?”