After my husband di:ed, my daughter changed the gate code to my 300-acre cattle ranch in Wyoming and left me sitting outside. “You can come home once you give my husband power of attorney,” she said through the speaker. I stayed in my truck, finished my sandwich, and called the one man she’d forgotten her father trusted more than anyone.

After my husband died, my daughter locked me out of my own 300-acre cattle ranch in Wyoming. She told me through the gate speaker that I could come home once I gave her husband power of attorney. So I pulled my truck off the road, ate my ham sandwich, and called the man my husband had made me promise to call.

That morning, I’d driven to the Safeway in Sheridan. By the time I got home, the eggs were warming on the passenger seat, and I was already thinking about

what I’d make for supper. I leaned out of my Ford and entered the code Russ and I had used for forty years. It was our wedding date.

The light flashed red.

“I changed it, Mom,” Kristy said through the speaker. “We’ve talked about this. You’re seventy-nine. You shouldn’t be out here by yourself.”

“Open the gate, honey.”