America 1883: The Western Homeland

Chapter 75 Hawthorn and Firewood for Winter Preparation

Tom's lips curled into a faint smile, conveying an all-knowing understanding: "Coincidentally, the general store is also asking three dollars a ton, and they say it's top-quality birch."

Sam's smile froze for a moment.

He gritted his teeth, his jaw clenching: "Two and a half dollars a ton! God is my witness, there's not a penny left to lose!"

He practically spat out the price through gritted teeth, his eyes fixed on Tom with the resolute determination of a gambler placing a bet.

Tom nodded decisively: "Deal. I want it now."

"Done!" Sam slapped his thigh.

Tom clearly stated the address of the ranch.

Uncle Sam's smile, which had just begun to spread, froze instantly.

He looked up abruptly, his gaze lingering on Tom's young yet composed face. His voice held an undisguised surprise. "This...this ranch...you bought it?"

Tom simply nodded, his eyes calm and expressionless.

Sam's expression shifted instantly, like turning the pages of a book, filling his face with an almost ingratiating, overly enthusiastic, friendly smile, his wrinkles crinkling together: "Then...then, sir, do you...do you need cowboys for your ranch? Good cowboys!" he added eagerly.

Tom didn't answer immediately. His sharp eyes slowly and carefully scanned Sam's face several times, with scrutiny and a hint of barely perceptible vigilance.

The gaze was so sharp that even Sam couldn't quite handle it, and his eyes began to dart nervously from side to side.

"Right now... we don't need it." Tom uttered a few words crisply and decisively, then turned to leave.

"That's something you'll definitely need in the future!"

Uncle Sam darted forward and barely blocked Tom's path.

His smile widened, tinged with a desperate urgency. "I have a son! He used to work on that ranch! He was a 'top-notch cowboy'! He'd been rolling around on that meadow since he was a grasshopper!"

Tom abruptly stopped, turned around abruptly, and stared sharply at Sam: "Then why are you leaving?"

"Wasn't the ranch... going to be sold?"

Sam quickly explained, his voice tinged with nervousness.

Trying hard to make himself seem more credible, he said, "My sons! I swear to the Bible, they are truly 'top-notch cowboys'! Lassoing, horse training, cattle herding—they can't find better in this valley!"

"Okay! I'll definitely come to you when I need you!" Tom nodded and turned to leave.

"Okay!" Uncle Sam replied.

Tom had just taken a step when he suddenly stopped, as if remembering something, and turned back to ask, "By the way, do you know where I can buy hay for the winter?"

"Hay?" Uncle Sam's eyes lit up, as if he had smelled a business opportunity. "How much do you want?"

Tom wondered to himself, "How much would a beef cow yield at least in a winter?"

"At least one ton!" Uncle Sam held up one finger.

"What about the horse?"

"It'll take a lot of feed, at least two tons!" Uncle Sam said confidently. "In this godforsaken place like Montana, the winter can last for at least six months!"

Tom's mind raced, calculating: thirty horses, fifteen head of cattle... fodder! At least eighty tons! This number made his heart sink.

"Eighty tons of hay..." His voice deepened. "What's the price per ton now?"

Upon hearing the astonishing figure of "eighty tons," Uncle Sam's heart skipped a beat, his breathing quickened, but he suppressed his excitement.

This is a big deal!

He clicked his tongue in amazement.

In a proper ranch, every cowboy works hard in the fall to cut hay and stockpile feed, carefully planning for the winter.

Only those wealthy new ranchers from the east, who don't have time to prepare, are willing to pay a high price to buy ready-made ones from outside!

"It's not winter yet, so hay is four dollars a ton," Uncle Sam quickly quoted a price.

"Too expensive!" Tom shook his head without even thinking.

Four dollars a ton, eighty tons would cost three hundred and twenty dollars!

A beef cattle delivered to Chicago is worth only thirty dollars, and sold locally for only twenty to twenty-five dollars. A horse is also only thirty dollars.

"If we sell the livestock first, get through the winter, and then buy them back in the spring, wouldn't we save money on fodder?" The thought flashed through my mind.

But Tom immediately knew that wouldn't work. Sell the livestock cheaply now and buy them again in the spring?

The price difference is definitely more than the cost of fodder; there's no such thing as a free lunch.

Besides, these dozen or so fine horses he owns are a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.

Also, with twelve people in the family, there's a lot of meat to eat throughout the winter.

Those fifteen bison should be enough.

All things considered, the cost of fodder, though expensive, is well worth it!

"...When winter comes, there won't be enough hay, and nobody will sell it for ten dollars a ton!" Uncle Sam continued to ramble on.

"Ten dollars?" Tom's heart skipped a beat, and he interrupted Sam, "You mean hay can cost ten dollars a ton in winter?"

Sam nodded repeatedly.

"Have winters gotten colder year by year these past few years?" Tom pressed, his expression unusually serious.

Sam was stunned by his appearance and could only nod.

Tom's fragmented memories began to surface: Montana was in the midst of the Little Ice Age!

The winters were eerily cold, and for several years the temperature even dropped below freezing... Not only did livestock freeze to death in droves, but people couldn't escape it either.

Could it be...this year?

A chill instantly ran down my spine.

Should we leave now and flee to Oregon?

He immediately shook his head, dismissing the crazy idea.

Crossing the Rocky Mountains?

There's simply not enough time!

Not to mention Elsa's injuries; she can't withstand any more jostling and must rest.

"Two dollars a ton!" Tom slammed his hand on the table, his tone decisive. "Give me ten more tons!"

"Nine...ninety tons!" Uncle Sam's mouth gaped open enough to fit an egg. "My God!"

"Okay!" He was so excited his voice changed.

Tom ignored his excitement, his mind already on another crucial matter: "Besides burning wood in the fireplace, are there any other ways to keep warm in winter?"

"Yes, cast iron furnaces!" Uncle Sam clicked his tongue. "But I heard the cheapest one costs at least five dollars, which is ridiculously expensive!"

Where can I buy it?

"A general store!"

Tom nodded and finally agreed with Sam that the firewood would be delivered immediately and the hay would be prepared within half a month.

He later learned that this meant going to the public pastures to cut grass, as there were still some unfenced areas in the Bozeman Valley.

Although the grass is not as lush as that along the river, it is enough to dry and serve as winter fodder.

He only figured out these tricks of the trade later when he ran the ranch himself.

After parting ways with Sam, Tom headed straight for the grocery store.

Brand new bedding, a large wooden tub for bathing, and thick clothes.

Of course, there were also the most important cast iron furnaces; I bought seven of them at once!

In addition, there were three heavy iron pots.

It's hard to imagine that after half a year, the family can finally sleep in a real bed, take a hot bath, and change into clean new clothes. Just thinking about it makes me feel so comfortable.

But the price is also shocking!

Tom hired a horse-drawn carriage, loaded it with its bountiful harvest, and hurried back to the new ranch before noon.

But to his utter surprise, as soon as the carriage entered the ranch area, he saw a familiar figure pacing anxiously in front of the cabin!