Arthur Nelson Protected His Wyoming Mountain Cabin with a Trust
The clerk handed me my change. “You setting these up for deer season?”
“Security,” I said.
“Most guys use the steel security boxes for them,” the clerk said, pointing to a shelf of green metal locks. “People will steal them if they find them on a trail.”
“The people I am worried about do not know they are there,” I said.
I took the bag and walked out to my truck. The cash in my pocket felt significantly lighter now, the thick roll reduced by nearly half. I had spent my whole working life building up my savings, and now I was spending my emergency cash on cameras just to protect my own home from my daughter’s husband.
The local butcher shop was located behind the old grain elevator on the south side of town, where the gravel roads were dusty and the air smelled of dry barley. It was a small, white-painted concrete block building with a red neon sign in the window that simply said MEAT.
