America 1883: The Western Homeland

Chapter 84 The winter in Montana has come early!

Tom looked at the warehouse full of supplies and almost suspected that they had emptied the entire grocery store!

The grains—wheat flour, corn flour, oatmeal, dried beans, and hard biscuits—were piled up like small mountains.

Meat: mainly cured meats, with salted pork emitting a salty aroma, as well as bundles of salted fish, dried cod, and dried salmon.

Vegetables: potatoes, carrots, cabbage, and onions filled the corner of the cellar.

Seasonings: coarse salt and precious sugar cubes, keep them safe.

A pick-me-up: a bag of coffee beans is a rare comfort in the cold winter.

This will be the food supply for Dutton House for the next few months.

Besides domesticated bison, their meat came from the wild deer that Tom hunted every day.

As the weather grew colder, James, along with Zach, Cooper, and Ennis, devoted themselves to repairing the ranch and reinforcing the livestock pens and sheds.

Tom, meanwhile, drove the wagon alone, venturing deep into the wilderness to hunt time and time again.

The wild deer that were hunted were all slaughtered and butchered by the cook, Jonali.

Fresh venison is quickly processed into salted or smoked meat, which hangs in cellars and cool storage rooms.

"Tom, you're really good!" Jonah exclaimed, looking at his daily harvest.

With six to eight wild deer a day, even the best hunters would find it difficult to return with such a consistent and plentiful catch as Tom.

"You've worked hard too!" Tom replied sincerely.

After all, no matter how much prey there is, it still depends on Jonah's skillful hands to clean it up.

Perhaps because of the severe damage inflicted by the last wolf attack, no wolf pack dared to harass the ranch again, despite the strong smell of blood permeating it every day.

Just when Tom thought the hunting trip would continue indefinitely and go further and further away, Dan arrived at the ranch with a caravan.

Five horse-drawn carriages, fully loaded with goods, approached from afar.

Tom's heart skipped a beat, and he finally remembered.

"Could it be the coal I ordered?"

Just as he was wondering, Dan had already ridden up to him.

"Tom, ten tons of coal! All ready!" Dan waved his hand, pointing to the five heavy wagons.

Tom's gaze, however, passed over the coal cart and landed on Dan's face: "If you don't deliver it soon, I'm really going to come and ask you about it."

Dan shook his head, his face weary. "A lot has been going on lately. Do you know what happened at Covington Ranch next door?"

Tom was completely confused.

These days he's been preoccupied with hunting and stockpiling winter food, and hasn't paid any attention to his neighbors.

"The rancher doesn't want it anymore, he wants it auctioned off! All the cattle and sheep on the ranch, too!" Dan whispered. "And it's a big businessman from the east, throwing away a 20,000-acre ranch like that!"

"What...what does this have to do with you?" Tom was even more confused. Why was Dan suddenly talking to him about this today?

"The Covington murder case," Dan's voice held a strange tone, "was taken over for trial in a federal court in New York."

Tom's heart skipped a beat, but he forced a calm expression: "I have to go to New York too?"

A vague emotion, like jealousy, flashed in Dan's eyes, which puzzled Tom even more.

"The bailiffs are involved, they've found out!" Dan stared intently at Tom's face, as if trying to catch every subtle change. "That old bastard sheriff, he killed Covington to avenge his family, don't you think?"

Tom nearly rolled his eyes: "Then you should ask the bailiff!"

These words made Dan's lips curl into a slight smile: "But not every case is so lucky that the bailiffs can find the real culprit."

The implication in those words made Tom's heart skip a beat.

At that moment, James walked over and settled the payment for the coal in a brisk manner.

Before leaving, Dan dropped another bombshell: "See you in the square tomorrow! The townspeople need to elect a new sheriff before the roads are closed for the winter!"

"A new sheriff?" James frowned.

"Yes!" Dan responded, spurring his horse away, his departing figure revealing an eagerness for the election.

"Should we go? After all, we're not exactly from town," Tom asked James.

James's gaze swept across his own land, and his tone was resolute: "Our Dutton home is here!"

Although it can't compare to Covington's behemoth of tens of thousands of acres, this 3,000-acre ranch is definitely one of the top in Bozeman!

Tom followed his father's gaze: in the barn shed, chopped firewood and black coal were piled up to the brim; in the hay shed, winter fodder was stuffed tightly; deep in the cellar, grain, vegetables, salted meat, and smoked meat exuded a reassuring aroma.

Looking at all this, Tom suddenly felt that this harsh winter in Montana didn't seem so unbearable after all.

The next day, when Tom followed his father James into the town square, the sight before him stunned him.

The small square was already packed to the brim!

Hundreds of makeshift benches, wooden crates, and even haystacks were packed with people.

"Over here!"

A familiar voice pierced through the noise.

Tom looked in the direction of the sound and saw Dan with the mustache standing up and waving vigorously at them.

Beside him, there were two empty seats, very close to the front, almost directly below the makeshift, simple podium.

Tom instinctively looked at his father.

James nodded slightly to Dan as a greeting, and then stepped forward.

Tom pulled him back, his voice low but clear, "I'll sit in the back."

Before James could respond, he turned around, squeezed into the crowd alone, and found an inconspicuous corner in the last row to sit down.

Time slips away amidst the noise.

Tom was so bored that he almost dozed off in the crowded back row under the warm sun.

Suddenly, the bench next to me sank.

Dan squeezed in and sat down right next to him without him noticing.

At this moment, the noise in the square suddenly intensified, almost lifting the roof off!

"Nominations begin!" a loud voice roared.

"I nominate George Payton!"

"Gail Hales! Support Mr. Hales!"

"Dick Buthus! Buthus! He's a veteran!"

One unfamiliar name after another was thrown out, colliding and echoing in the air above the square.

"Want to know who those people are?" Dan leaned closer, lowering his voice. "George Peyton, the biggest rancher on the west side of town, with the most cowboys under his command."

"Gail Hales? A big businessman from Chicago, rich! But he didn't come; instead, his 'wolves' came."

Dan gestured towards the respectable agent.

"As for Dick Butus... he used to be in the cavalry regiment, he's a good shot, and he has a bunch of old brothers with him."

After Dan finished speaking, his gaze fell heavily on Tom's face, and he emphasized, "See? There are people standing behind them!"

Tom didn't reply, but simply stared back at Dan calmly.

This isn't an election for a sheriff; it's clearly a power struggle between several factions!

The cheers in the square grew louder and louder, with the crowd waving their arms excitedly and shouting for their respective nominees.

Just as the clamor of voices was about to pierce the sky.

hum!

A strange, overwhelming silence suddenly descended!

All the noise came to an abrupt halt!

Hundreds of people looked up in unison, as if they had been choked at the same time.

A chill ran down my face, and countless horrified gazes were cast toward the leaden-gray sky.

One, two, countless cold, goose-feather-like snowflakes, swept up by the sudden, biting wind, fell down without warning!

Winter has arrived in Montana so prematurely and rudely!