America 1883: The Western Homeland

Chapter 147 Jacob's Letter!

Paradise Valley in southwestern Montana, early October morning.

Thick white fog, like icy milk, heavily clung to every corner of the valley, its biting cold seeping into the very marrow.

Everyone was wrapped tightly in heavy leather jackets and pants, their breath instantly turning into white frost.

"Going hunting again today?" James stared at Tom, his brows furrowed slightly.

During this period, Tom hunted almost every day, and wild deer and even rare bison became his spoils.

Tom simply nodded, his movement swift and decisive.

Meat is hard currency; there's no reason to stop eating it.

At the valley entrance, the rudimentary equipment had been assembled: a creaking carriage, two sturdy wild horses, and two sharp-eyed wolves exhaling white breath.

"Let's go, Zack!" Tom hissed.

The driver, Zak, gave the reins a jerk.

Paradise Valley is now on the right track. Ten of the newly recruited cowboys have left, leaving only thirty cowboys.

Ten were assigned to Wade to manage the cattle herd, eighteen to Thomas to oversee security in the valley, and the remaining two to look after the poultry on the ranch.

One person, two riders, a carriage, and two wild wolves following like ghosts.

This unusual caravan rolled over frost-covered grass, pierced through thick fog, and headed towards the vast, boundless plains.

"Tom, are we really going to do this?" Zack's voice was filled with disbelief.

They spotted a herd of plump wild deer!

But Tom's gun was hanging steadily beside the saddle, its muzzle lowered.

He actually commanded the two wolves, like the most experienced sheepdogs, to silently flank and drive away the deer herd!

Zach himself charged out from the other side on horseback, brandishing a leather rope and shouting threateningly.

Surrounded on three sides, with only one goal: to drive the panicked deer into the seemingly peaceful depths of the grassland, into the death trap carefully laid by Tom!

Even now, Zack's heart was still pounding, and Tom's almost insane instructions to dig the hole were still echoing in his mind.

The time has come!

Two wolves shot out of the bushes like black arrows released from a bow!

The deer herd instantly panicked and fled in all directions!

"Giddy up!" Zack spurred his horse, cutting off the deer herd from the side!

He barely aimed; he just raised his hand and fired!

"Bang--!"

The deafening gunshot shattered the silence of the early morning! A robust adult stag collapsed, its hooves twitching.

"Well done, Zack!" Tom's voice was full of approval, his gaze sweeping over the fallen prey without lingering.

"Tom! Don't let the rest get away!" Zack roared.

"You can't escape!"

Before Tom could finish speaking, another gunshot rang out!

"Bang!"

This shot was like a thunderclap, completely shattering the deer herd's nerves! As if whipped by an invisible lash, they charged madly toward the death zone Tom had designated!

Immediately afterwards!

"Splash!" "Splash!"

"Thump thump thump—!"

A series of dull thuds and desperate screams suddenly rang out!

More than a dozen wild deer fell one after another into the perfectly camouflaged ditch, like dumplings being dropped into a pot!

Dust mixed with grass clippings rose into the sky.

Only a handful of lucky ones managed to brake sharply at the last moment, disappearing into the mist in a state of shock.

Who would have thought? Tom had secretly dug a deadly trench across this flat prairie!

Of course, this project was not done by one person alone; Zach's broken back and worn-out hands are proof of that.

"How's my plan?" Tom reined in his horse, a hunter's smug, blood-tinged triumph playing on his lips.

"Live—live! They're all live wild deer!" Zack rushed to the edge of the ditch, his eyes shining, his voice trembling with excitement.

Alive! What does that mean? It means you can eat the freshest, fattest venison anytime!

This means a continuous supply of grain reserves!

This hunt, which could be described as a "scorched earth" operation, left Tom with a full load of spoils.

When the wagon returned to Paradise Valley carrying the prey and the dying deer, they were greeted with deafening cheers.

However, Tom's keen eyes caught something amiss. His two male wolves, "Wilderness" and "Hurricane," were staring intently at the direction of the kennel, suppressing growls rumbling in their throats, their eyes filled with a wild, predatory look.

Tom's face instantly darkened, his voice as cold as ice: "Keep your eyes to yourselves!"

He strode over, and the invisible pressure made the two male wolves take a half step back uneasy.

"Remember my words, that bitch is not for you to touch!" His sharp gaze swept over them. "Even if I spare you, her pups will make sure you're all torn to pieces!"

How dare you lay a hand on a mother dog with lion cubs?

These two beasts must be tired of living!

Tom was also worried that the cold night would freeze the lion cubs in the barn.

The next day, he found that the mother and child were both safe and sound, and all his worries had gone unnoticed.

Just as they were celebrating Tom's hunt for so many animals, an unexpected package arrived at the post station.

"Who sent me something?" Tom asked, looking puzzled.

James looked thoughtful and exchanged a glance with Margaret.

Something seemed off, so the family had no choice but to go to the post station to pick up the package.

I showed my ID and received the items.

The three heavy wooden crates looked unusual.

"What does it say?" Tom, with his sharp eyes, noticed that his father's face darkened after reading the markings on the box.

The mystery was only revealed when they returned to Paradise Valley and pried open the wooden box.

Tom's pupils contracted when he saw what was inside; the sender was Jacob Dutton!

That uncle who lives far away in Tennessee!

How could he—

"What did they send?" Tom couldn't contain his curiosity.

It's such a long way, and the box is so heavy, it can't be made of stones, can it?

The three boxes were opened one by one.

Tom was stunned when he saw the contents.

Not only him, but everyone gasped in shock.

A case of whiskey! A case of potatoes! A case of cotton!

"What—what does this mean?" Tom was bewildered.

Aren't these things everywhere in Tennessee? Why send this all the way from here?

No one could answer him.

Everyone's eyes were fixed on the letter in Jacob's own handwriting at the bottom of the box.

After the letter was read, the entire room fell silent.

The letter said that their uncle Jacob, who absolutely refused to come, had sent them some local products from Tennessee.

He also said thank you and that he was considering coming to Montana.

"Tom, what have you done?" the father demanded abruptly.

Tom was taken aback. "Why are you so sure it was me? Couldn't it have been you who did it?"

James sighed heavily, his eyes filled with complex emotions: "As long as I'm breathing, he will never set foot in here!"

What!

Tom was shocked. What did you mean he wouldn't come if you were alive? What deep-seated hatred exists between you two?

"Stop talking nonsense and get to the point!"

Tom suppressed the urge to press for answers; now was not the time to dig deeper.

"I told him everything that happened here, down to the last detail! Including that there are tens of thousands of acres of grassland lying in this valley!"

James narrowed his eyes, a cold glint in them: "Based on this alone, Jacob Dutton wouldn't even consider coming here!"

"I also said!" Tom smiled slightly, "This godforsaken place is rife with bandits! Hundreds of cattle are kept in the barn, a piece of fat meat that everyone wants a bite out of! This valley is short of people, it's short of people we can trust with our backs!"

The air froze instantly!

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