The old-time rancher looked us up and down, and then in his best cowboy drawl, asked, “Where y’all from?” On naming our home base, he insisted: “Florida? That’s the other side of the world.”
And, in his way, he was probably right. From Farson, Wyoming, the Sunshine State probably seemed a world away from the immense reaches of this Western-cultured state, where round-ups were still conducted on horseback and tourism was just a quaint idea.
