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.

“If you’re reading this, Kristy, you’ve changed the code on the gate.”

Brett bent to pick up the remote. Amos set one boot on it, and Brett straightened without a word. Kristy covered her face with both hands, so Amos passed the letter to me. I read the rest

aloud.

“My girl, I know you love your mother. I also know how scared you get when you think there isn’t enough money. I should have sat you down while I still could and told you what your mother and I own and what we owe.”

Russ had written that the ranch was paid off. There was no mortgage and no lien on the land. The trust held the property, and I was its trustee for the rest of my life. If Brett had said the ranch was about to

go under, Russ wanted Kristy to ask him where he’d gotten that idea.