"Psst, look over there, dudes."
So we did. And we, quite literally, stumbled upon a most interesting find! Not many people know this, but Count Dracula was never really bested by Van Helsing or even those meddling kids from Mystery, Inc. History records that he hung around Transylvania for a few eons before a long series of bad investments and castle taxes caused him to have to moonlight as a hit man for the Mafia.
The mob eventually tired of the expense associated with running an operation like Dracula's castle. The property taxes were outrageous and the cost for the black mold clean-up was absolutely insane, so they began out-sourcing hits to the Asian syndicates. This miffed the Count and he turned mob informant, testifying before several closed-door sessions of Congress, some 15 years before Joe Valachi.
Unfortunately for the Count and his lovely 93rd wife, Helen, the federal Witness Protection Program was not yet fully funded. In addition, the U.S. government had a bit more of a grasp of moral irony back then and the powers that be felt a little iffy about loosing a centuries old vampire into Truman era America to be supported by tax dollars. After several weeks of debate, it was decided that there was really only one place that could become the American version of Soviet Siberia. The Count was banished to West Texas.
The feds set him up with a new identity, although Helen refused to change her first name, and they lived in quiet anonymity for several years. The count subsisted on coyotes and jackrabbits for the most part. Then in 1952 he got ahold of a rattlesnake, for the first and last time.
Helen stayed in Deaf Smith County following the Count's final demise and became active in the local WMU chapter at the Second Baptist Church. She was famous for her green jello salad, the kind with the little marshmallows, a staple at local funerals for 30 years.