It had been two months since I had received the letter from my Uncle Angus McLeod in the Arizona Territory. I read the missive over and over again from the time it reached my small cottage just outside of the Scottish village of Dunnlauden.
He was opting to give up ranching. He needed to go back to Scotland, see to his affairs. Since I was the last of his living kin, though on the other side of the Atlantic, he needed me to please come. I agreed, and so I put myself on a ship that took me to Boston. I took the train out West to Arizona. Where it was agreed that I would look after his beloved Hacienda, Las Glorias, at least until I could find a way to hire someone to look after the place, or sell it for him. whichever he would bid me to do once he was back home in the Highlands. It was probably for the best that I was not fixing to stay permanently. No. I insisted to myself. I was definitely not at all fixing to stay.