plumnovel Chapter 78 The ordered firewood for winter has arrived.
Chapter 78 The ordered firewood for winter has arrived.
early morning!
A thin, indigo mist enveloped the hillsides west of Bozeman.
On the withered grassland, a silver net woven from frost spreads out, and the water vapor from the tributaries of the long river condenses into ice crystals, which plunge into the nasal cavity with each breath.
Two figures lay silently among the withered grass in the bushes on the hillside.
Down in the valley, a herd of mule deer were leisurely grazing on wild grass.
The northwest wind howled in, carrying the chilling, fishy smell of snow falling from the mountaintop, which pressed their breath down into the valley.
boom!
James's gunshot rang out!
The deer herd scattered in terror, rushing madly into the forest!
boom! boom! boom!
Several gunshots rang out in quick succession, and the mule deer disappeared completely into the forest.
Three deer carcasses were left on the ground.
Tom deftly put away his gun and rushed toward the fallen mule deer.
James silently stared at the one he had shot down, hoisted it onto his shoulder, and walked without a word toward the carriage in the distance, not even glancing at Tom.
Tom hunted three mule deer, each weighing over 100 kilograms, with grayish-brown fur and white spots on their rumps.
James's dog, however, was clearly superior in both color and size.
"We're really lucky!" Tom said, pointing to all the spoils, trying to break the silence.
James shook his head, his voice muffled: "Next time you go hunting, you'll be fine on your own."
Tom was taken aback: "I thought this was a rare and pleasant time for us, father and son?"
The only response he received was James's retreating figure as he walked toward the carriage.
The two worked together to load the deer carcass onto the carriage.
"When I got home, I told them that you were the one who made all of this, how about that?"
Tom, riding on the back of "Loach," tries to comfort his father who is driving the carriage alone.
James remained silent.
Until we returned to the ranch.
Mother Margaret was already waiting at the door, looking around.
"Oh! You're back so soon? You hunted so many!" She was overjoyed to see the four adult mule deer. "Enough to feed us for a while!"
"Who knows how cold the winters are in Montana? It's always good to stock up on food," Tom chimed in.
"Of course!" Margaret's big, bright eyes swept over the father and son. "So, what are your plans for today?"
James shook his head, indicating that he was fine.
Tom was thinking to himself: the new house can wait, but the livestock shed needs to be reinforced and thickened as soon as possible, otherwise the cows will freeze to death in the winter! But when he looked up and met his mother's eager expression, he immediately swallowed the words that were on the tip of his tongue.
"Madam," Tom forced a smile, "you're in charge today!"
Margaret smiled and said, "Alright, let's go to town and buy some new clothes!"
Tom froze on the spot, his mind buzzing with thoughts of "going to town and buying some clothes"...
Suddenly, James looked at him: "Is there anything that needs repairing on the new ranch?"
Tom was about to nod when he caught a glimpse of his mother Margaret's expression change slightly out of the corner of his eye.
He retorted without hesitation, "James, this is a rare opportunity for our family to spend time together. Are you going to refuse?"
An invisible chill instantly locked onto James.
"...I was just asking." He immediately changed his mind, "We'll leave after breakfast."
Margaret smiled with satisfaction.
The father and son secretly breathed a sigh of relief.
Just then, the sound of rapid hoofbeats grew louder as they approached!
Uncle Sam, riding on his horse, waved to Tom from afar.
Tom beckoned them into the ranch.
"What are those?" Margaret asked, puzzled, as two large carts, each pulled by four horses and piled high with firewood, approached.
"Firewood for the winter," Tom replied casually.
"Mr. Dutton! I'm so sorry to bother you so early!"
As soon as Uncle Sam dismounted, he hurriedly explained, "But to meet the deadline, we have to deliver at least twenty tons a day! Ninety tons is no small amount; it'll take some time!"
"Ninety tons of firewood!" Margaret looked at Sam in astonishment, then abruptly turned to Tom.
Although Uncle Sam did not know Margaret's identity, he had a clue when he saw that Tom allowed her to ask questions.
"Yes, madam, a total of ninety tons!"
Margaret paused, then asked, "What's the price?"
"Two dollars a ton!"
Upon hearing the price, Margaret's expression immediately turned serious as she stared at Tom: "Have you paid?"
"Not yet," Tom said frankly. "I'll settle the payment once all the goods are delivered. I won't renege on my debt."
The implication is: I have money.
Margaret suppressed the urge to press Tom about where the money came from; the occasion was inappropriate.
"How's the quality of the firewood?"
James, who had been silent all along, suddenly spoke up, walked towards the carriage, and reached out to examine the woodpile, as if he were inspecting the goods.
Uncle Sam immediately tensed up and stepped forward, saying, "It's all top-quality birch wood, already dried! We burn this here in winter, it burns for a long time..."
"Let's take it off first." James didn't offer much comment, just dusted off his hands.
Uncle Sam quickly looked at Tom, and seeing Tom nod, he immediately told his sons to start unloading.
The noise from the carriage woke up Zach and Cooper, who rubbed their eyes and came over.
"Why are they all birch?" Cooper picked up a piece of firewood and weighed it in his hand.
Sam, sweat beading on his forehead, stammered, "It...it can withstand the heat..."
"Don't you have oak?" Cooper pressed.
Sam was taken aback by the question.
"Oak...it's more expensive!" a gruff voice interrupted.
Everyone looked in the direction of the voice and saw that the speaker was a burly young man, as strong as a bear.
"How expensive?" Cooper glared defiantly at the young man opposite him who was as big as a bear.
When it comes to size, Fat Cooper has never been afraid of anyone!
"It costs three to five dollars per ton!"
The young man answered in a low voice, unfazed by Tom's scrutinizing gaze, "My name is Hill, Sam's son, and I used to be a cowboy on this ranch!"
He gave the room a rude once-over. "Trying to spend the winter here? You'll need to tidy up the place!"
He started counting on his fingers, muttering to himself:
"The chimney needs to be unclogged! The fireplace needs to be fixed! That pile of wood you bought looks like a lot, but it won't burn for long! Coal is better!"
He paused, then added with a fixed gaze, "But be careful, that stuff can be suffocating! We need to include ventilation!"
Before anyone could react, he changed the subject to the well: "The well needs fixing too! In winter, when it freezes, we cowboys have to go down into the well to break the ice—it's such a nightmare!"
He rubbed his arms, as if he could already feel the biting cold.
"Hill!" Uncle Sam quickly called out to stop him, feeling a little embarrassed.
Hill then looked at his father, his tone still stubborn: "Didn't you say I could come back and continue? Winter is coming soon, and I don't want to go down into that ice hole again!"
Listening to Hill's rapid-fire, reckless rant, and seeing his overly direct gaze and erratic thinking, the people present exchanged glances. This guy was indeed quite different from ordinary people.
"Oak at three dollars a ton, sixty tons in total. The rest is birch. Get it over with as soon as possible, don't delay the hay!"
Uncle Sam nodded quickly and told Hill to unload the goods!
"Why is there still hay?"
Tom explained to his mother in a low voice, "The horses and cows need fodder for the winter!"
"We can cut our own hay!"
"It's too late!"
Tom's tone was resolute.
After months of trekking through the wilderness, everyone was exhausted. Now that they had finally settled down, he absolutely could not let them overexert themselves to harvest hay.
Besides, who says Bozeman, Montana is safe!