American Farmers: Facing a Cutoff at the Start

"Roy! Are you alright?!"

Old Frank's anxious shouts came from outside.

"It's alright! Thanks to your Fett, otherwise you might not even be seeing me now."

Roy's voice outside the door sounded very strong.

"It's good that you're alright... What you said on the phone was really scary."

"That was really scary. You've escaped with your life, so you'll have to have a lot of drinks with me later."

"No problem." Frank sniffed. "Wow, what did you bake? It smells so good!"

"Don't move! Just a little longer and it'll be done!"

"You have the nerve to say that? I called you several times just now and the line was busy. By the time you got through, everyone was almost done with their own calls."

"You rascal, you just sit back and wait to get something for nothing."

"Come on, let's go inside and talk."

I heard the voices of two old men talking outside the door.

In the living room, Leila, who was sitting cross-legged on the carpet, quickly pressed the pause button on the controller.

On the television screen, the intense battle of Mortal Kombat was frozen in time.

Fett also put down the game controller, stood up, and prepared to greet his father.

The door opened, and old Frank, exuding a chill, strode in.

The moment he saw Fett standing in the middle of the living room, he immediately slapped him hard on the shoulder, the large, fan-like hand making Fett's shoulder ache.

"Good job, kid! You did a great job! You didn't embarrass your old man."

Fett smiled but didn't say anything.

Old Frank was clearly in a great mood. As he took off his heavy coat and hung it on the hanger, he excitedly said:

"And your idea was brilliant! I just called all my regular customers in my contacts using your method."

"Before we even finished half of the tour, more than a dozen families had already agreed, saying they would definitely bring their relatives and friends this year."

"That's good."

Fett breathed a sigh of relief: "This should allow us to make more money."

"I'll teach you how to forge knives these next couple of days. I estimate that in another two days, when the guests arrive, I'll be busy and won't have time to teach you anymore."

Old Frank waved his hand and pointed to the television:

"You and Layla continue playing your game. I'll go to the kitchen and help them out."

After saying that, the old man rolled up his sleeves, humming an off-key tune as he walked toward the kitchen.

The fire in the fireplace was burning brightly, crackling and popping, mingling with the aromas wafting from the kitchen and the laughter of the elders, filling the whole house with a comforting warmth.

The more Christmas trees we sell, the less pressure we'll feel.

Fett sat back down on the carpet and picked up the handle.

"Come on! Let's continue!"

Lyra had already pressed the start button, and the characters on the screen came to life again.

……

"Cheers!"

Five glasses clinked together crisply above the table.

The amber-colored bourbon whiskey leaves a warm, smooth residue on the glass.

In the very center of the table, a huge roasted lamb leg with rosemary is steaming hot.

The roast chicken next to it was bright red, with tight, shiny skin that looked like it would break at the slightest touch.

A large bowl of thick Irish lamb soup sits on the side, with chunks of potatoes and carrots bobbing in the milky white broth.

The American-style smoked lamb shoulder has been sliced ​​and plated, with the surface of the meat covered by a layer of dark black smoked crust, while the cut surface shows an enticing pink color.

With a gentle nip of the knife, the fibers break apart, becoming so soft that it requires almost no chewing.

In addition, the refreshing Caesar salad, golden cornbread, and baked mashed potatoes filled the entire table.

After clinking glasses, Fett tilted his head back and took a sip.

The wine is silky smooth on the palate, with a rich aroma of oak and caramel sweetness. If you tap it carefully, you can also detect a nutty aroma.

"cough……"

Leila coughed as she choked on the strong aperitif.

Fett turned his head to look, and Lyra covered her mouth with her hand, two blushes quickly rising on her fair cheeks, her eyes becoming even more watery.

He handed her a tissue, receiving a grateful look in return.

"Come on, let's eat!"

As the male head of the household, Roy was the first to pick up the sharp meat cleaver.

He stood up, skillfully cut off a large piece of roasted lamb leg with crispy crust and fat, placed it on a plate, and handed it to Fett:

"Fett, here's the tenderest piece of meat for you. Thank you for saving my life today!"

Fett thought to himself: It's all thanks to the system, but since the system is mine, it's naturally also my credit.

He accepted the plate with both hands without excessive refusal.

"Uncle Roy, if Lyra hadn't brought my dad stew yesterday, I wouldn't have come to deliver the pot today, and I wouldn't have made it here just in time."

"It's all because of your family's usual help that this coincidence happened today."

"This must be God's will."

Upon hearing this, Roy paused for a moment, his hand holding the meat cleaver.

He bowed his head slightly: "Amen."

Rachel's gaze toward Fett grew increasingly loving and satisfied.

Lyra sat beside him, her eyes sparkling as she watched Fett talk animatedly.

Although old Frank didn't say anything, the wrinkles on his face smoothed out, and he stood up straight.

He picked up his wine glass, took a sip, and his eyes were full of pride.

Immediately afterwards, the dining table became lively.

This type of American family dinner doesn't have many restrictive rules.

Huge salad bowls and mashed potato bowls were passed around among the people.

"Rachel, pass me the salad."

"Fett, would you like some more gravy?"

Rachel enthusiastically ladled a large spoonful of thick mutton soup for Fett with a serving spoon, stopping only when it was almost overflowing the rim of the bowl.

Frank and Roy had already started toasting each other, their conversation ranging from the close call to this year's soybean prices, and then to predictions for the Texas Bowl that would be held at the end of the month.

Everyone's wondering if the University of Arkansas Wild Boars can crush the University of Texas Longhorns this time...

As Fett listened to their conversation, he cut off a piece of mutton and put it in his mouth. The skin was crispy and the meat was juicy.

Take another sip of the thick mutton soup, and chew on a couple of crisp salad slices to cleanse your palate.

He stretched out on the back of the chair, feeling a warm glow in his stomach, and couldn't have been more comfortable.

Sure enough, Roy and Frank got drunk and started singing off-key country folk songs with their arms around each other's shoulders.

Rachel and Lyra worked together to carry Roy back to the bedroom.

Fett then helped the unsteady old Frank back to his farm.

I helped my dad take off his boots, covered him with the blanket, and left a large glass of warm water on the bedside table.

After settling everything in, Fett was about to go next door to retrieve the heavy piece of spring steel.

As soon as I opened the door, I saw another figure in the yard.

Leila had changed out of her pretty but inconvenient dress at some point and put on a durable work jacket and jeans again.

She was pushing a small cart loaded with spring steel, panting as she entered the yard.

Fett quickly stepped forward, took the heavy handle from the cart, and steadied the cart:

"Why didn't you wait for me? This thing is heavy enough even with a cart; don't hurt your back."

Leila shook her slightly sore wrist, casually tucking a stray hair behind her ear, her face flushed from exercise.

"Didn't I say I'd help? I keep my word and never go back on my word."

She dusted off her hands, looked up at Fett, her eyes sparkling with eager anticipation:

"Alright, now I'm your assistant."

"Fett, please feel free to command me."

Fett pushed the cart to the garage door, unloaded the heavy set of spring steel, opened the garage door, and went inside.

The garage was filled with clutter, blocking even the door to the main house, while the area near the entrance had been converted into a forge by old Frank.

On the outermost side stands a homemade coal stove made from an old truck brake drum, with a ventilation pipe connected to an electric blower at the bottom.

Half a circle of unburnt coke was piled around the furnace, and the walls and roof were blackened by soot.

Next to it was an old-fashioned anvil fixed to an oak stump. Although the surface of the anvil was a bit mottled, it was wiped very clean.

Several hammers of different sizes and several long-handled fire tongs were hanging on the wall.

In the corner was a large bucket of dark, waste engine oil used for quenching.

Further inside, there are band saws and bench drills.

Fett walked to the workbench and picked up a knife blank that Old Frank had already forged and was only waiting to be sharpened.

It was a classic Bowie knife, covered with a layer of dark gray oxide.

Holding it in your hand, the most immediate feeling is its neatness.

The spine of the blade is perfectly straight, without the slightest twist; the thickness of the blade gradually narrows from the guard to the tip, with an extremely natural and even transition.

Although it was forged entirely by hand, the hammer marks on the surface are very shallow and dense, indicating that a fine leveling process was carried out in the final stage.

Fett then picked up a few more and compared them.

When the knives are stacked together, their length, curvature, and thickness are almost identical.

To achieve this level of precision using only a hand hammer demonstrates a skill level comparable to that of a JS knifemaker.

No wonder old Frank believed he could make money back by forging knives.

Fett walked to the coal stove and first used a fire hook to clear away the glass-like slag from the bottom of the stove, exposing the ventilation opening at the bottom.

He grabbed a handful of old newspapers from the corner, crumpled them into a ball, stuffed them into the center of the stove, and then placed a few dry, thin wooden strips on top.

"laugh."

He lit a match and threw it in; the paper ball instantly burst into a bright yellow flame.

Fett turned on the blower and adjusted it to the lowest setting.

"Buzz—"

With the low hum of the fan.

Flames shot up!