I stood outside the house of my father Marcus on Christmas Eve and looked through the frosted window as he celebrated with my stepmother Linda and my brother Evan. I had driven two hours through the snow to attend, only to realize I was intentionally excluded from their holiday dinner. My father had decided his rebuilt life no longer had room for me, a military veteran who had constantly supported them financially through the past troubles Evan faced. Instead of knocking on the door and begging for their acceptance, I walked back to my truck and made a major decision at a roadside diner. I decided to build a home where nobody could tell me I did not belong, which led me to purchase the historic Carter Ridge Ranch in Montana.

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