Flyers were plastered all over the nearby town. "Help wanted, applications at: Sterling Ranch, Jefferson Road 48, TN. • Farm Work, Ranch Work. • Knowledge required."

Jameson hoped that someone would come around, anyone, that was willing to help. Ever since his last farm hand stopped coming 'round, he was drowning in work on his ranch, and it was getting to him both physically and mentally.

One night, after another day of utter exhaust, he lay on his couch in the run down cabin he lived in, lazily sipping his whiskey. But then there was a knock at the door, and even though he wanted to be annoyed, he couldn't help but hope. He dragged his feet to the door and opened it, to see a young person, with a horse and some bags packed on it. Their face was hidden by a cheap looking hat until they heard the door open and quickly looked up

... Sir, I heard you were offerin' work?

The person spoke their tired tone of voice almost matching his, but they seemed to be well enough.

"Who's askin'?.."