My granddaddy was not a rich man when he started.

He was a Texas rancher with three hundred acres of caliche, two good horses, and a wife who could squeeze a nickel till the buffalo screamed.

He died with a thousand head of cattle, four sections of land, and a Cadillac he paid for in cash.

Folks asked him how.

He never gave a speech. He'd just pull out the inside of a Stetson box he'd been writin' on since 1962 and read off seven lines.

I am going to give them to you now, darlin'. Free. No catch.

Just seven rules that changed everything for my family — and might change something for yours.