The last time I drove Dad from his apartment in Cheyenne to the ranch was in the late 1990s,
about a year before he passed away. For several years before that trip, prolonged drought had
plagued the c
George C. Frison lived in two different professions and excelled in both. He grew up on a family ranch where he learned responsibility and the enduring strength of human kindness. A couple decades aft
My father used to tell me stories about his dad, Kirk, and one thing came up again and again: Kirk hated building fences. But our ranch depended on them. By the time my father was running the I Lazy D
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