roccoschili Chapter 86 The cold winter continues, and the ranch begins to face crisis.
Chapter 86 The cold winter continues, and the ranch begins to face crisis.
"Tom, how's winter in Montana?"
The bar owner, Dan, with his mustache, had a broad smile on his face, a smile that inexplicably stirred something in Tom's heart.
Tom took the whiskey Dan offered and took a sip.
Well, not bad, at least I didn't try to fool him with inferior bulk goods.
If Dan knew that Tom had just doubted his sincerity, he would be heartbroken.
"Dan, is the winter in Montana always so unpredictable?" Tom asked, putting down his glass.
"Unfathomable?" Dan shook his head, his gaze drifting to the gray sky outside the window. "This year is exceptionally different! Winter came early, and the cold is strange! In previous years, after the blizzard in October, there would at least be a few days of warmth, but this year? Hey, the snow stopped, but the cold is even more biting!"
As he spoke, he poured a glass for everyone in Tom's entourage.
Strangely enough, Tom had to resort to force to "take over" the bar from Dan.
But in the past few months, Tom hasn't touched the ledgers at all, as if the whole thing never happened.
"So, what do you think this awful weather will be like?" Tom pressed.
"How's it going?" Dan looked away, lowering his voice. "It's strange! If it weren't for this mess holding me back, I would have gone to Chicago already!"
Tom raised an eyebrow. Dan was going to run away? That was something else.
Dan leaned closer, lowering his voice even further: "The trains are running again, but this heavy snow... it can stop halfway through the journey! Who knows how long it'll be stopped? In previous years, there was nothing we could do but stay in this run-down bar. But it's different now. Chicago, New York... warmer places to the east, aren't they better than this?"
Tom looked at him with some surprise: "You've spent half your life here, never thought about moving to Oregon?" He swirled his wine glass, his tone casual.
Dan's face immediately contorted into a bitter expression, and he sighed heavily, "My life's savings are all here!"
His gaze involuntarily drifted to the other end of the bar, to the beautiful woman chatting and smiling with Margaret.
Tom followed his gaze and suddenly realized: So that's how it is.
This woman is probably the reason why Dan is reluctant to leave this ice cave.
They didn't stay at the bar for long.
Firstly, the road is difficult to travel, and secondly... who knows if the merciless blizzard will suddenly come crashing down on us at any moment?
"Come visit often when you have time!" The woman's melodious voice followed, like a feather brushing against the heart.
Not only is she beautiful, but her voice is also captivating.
Tom turned around, his gaze sweeping back and forth between Dan and the woman, a meaningful smile playing on his lips: "You are truly beautiful."
The owner, sporting a mustache, was left completely bewildered as Tom and his family braved the cold wind and left the bar.
"Next time I come, I'll have to bring a decent gift..." Margaret thought to herself, completely unaware that this awful weather wouldn't give her a "next time" at all.
The sky looked as if a huge hole had been punched in it, so gloomy it seemed like water could be wrung out of it.
The heavy snow almost never stopped, but thankfully it wasn't a blizzard, which allowed people to catch their breath.
But the temperature is getting colder every day.
Life was confined indoors, consisting of nothing but shoveling snow.
Tom gazed out the window at the leaden sky where snowflakes fell endlessly, and a strong sense of unease gripped him.
"Ennis," his voice was deep, "you say... with this endless snow, what if one day it suddenly turns into a massive blizzard? Burying the cellar entrances, the barns... completely?"
These words sent a chill down everyone's spine.
"Very likely!" Ennis nodded solemnly.
"How about we add a roof to the cellar entrance before it snows too heavily?" Tom suggested.
Everyone looked at each other in bewilderment.
"The ground is frozen solid, we can't dig it up!" James immediately rejected Tom's unrealistic idea.
But Tom couldn't shake the sense of crisis in his heart; this intuition had saved his life many times in the past!
"There's still plenty of wood and planks in the warehouse," he said, his gaze sweeping over everyone, his tone leaving no room for argument.
"Okay, let's stack the logs on both sides of the door and cover them with thick planks! We'll build a corridor all the way to our house door! No matter how big the blizzard, at least the cellar door won't be buried, and we can get the food out!"
These words struck like a heavy hammer, hitting everyone hard on the heart.
Mother Margaret looked at James, "How about... we give it a try?"
There's no room for "trying" with this; it either works or it doesn't!
But since his wife had spoken, James had no choice but to nod.
Braving the biting cold wind, the group began to work.
Sturdy logs were dragged in, and thick planks were erected, gradually forming a simple yet sturdy "fortress corridor" between the cellar and the main house.
This is not over yet.
Tom then directed the men to stuff the walls of the barn with thick layers of dry straw, like wrapping the barn in a bulky but warm cotton coat.
"Isn't this grass... such a waste?" Ennis couldn't help but ask as he looked at the precious hay being used to plaster the wall.
Tom tightened his collar, his breath instantly condensing into frost. He looked at the gloomy horizon in the distance, his voice low but firm: "I hope I'm wasting my time."
He knew in his heart that what he had done was far from enough.
Several days passed quietly amidst this silent tension and labor.
The gloomy sky remained, and the heavy snow continued to fall. The immense hidden crisis seemed poised to tear through the temporary calm and burst forth from the snow at any moment.
The first crisis that came was the well freezing over.
The biting cold of Montana.
The wellhead had long been completely sealed off by a layer of solid ice.
Tom had just rushed out from beside the scorching furnace when a layer of white frost instantly formed on his thick leather coat.
The large cast-iron kettle he was carrying was the only living thing at that moment. Thick white smoke spewed from its spout, and the kettle's body was so hot that even the surrounding cold air hissed and groaned. The boiling water inside was churning wildly.
He trudged to the well, sinking into knee-deep snow with each step.
The cold wind scraped against every inch of his skin exposed between the brim of his hat and his scarf.
He took a deep breath, and the breath turned into a swirling cloud of white mist as soon as it left his lips.
With his arm muscles bulging, he suddenly lifted the heavy kettle high and tilted it!
"Sizzle—!!!"
Boiling water slammed into the center of the ice dome.
The instant of contact occurred, an incredible sight unfolded:
A huge, thick, milky-white cloud of steam suddenly rose up, instantly engulfing the entire wellhead and Tom's figure.
A piercing "crack! pop!" sound pierced through the roar of steam and spread wildly from the depths of the ice.
The ice fragments, directly impacted by boiling water, sublimate into denser steam before they even have a chance to melt into water.
The effect of the first pot of water was merely torn open a small opening.
He quickly stepped back and immediately took another kettle of boiling water.
His movements were precise and swift, aiming at the most stubborn ice caps and those jagged cracks at the edge of the ice cave.
The second pot, the third pot...
Finally, a muffled, booming sound, as if from the earth's core, resounded.
That last, stubbornly supporting massive ice sheet finally lost its foundation, shattering into several large pieces amidst billowing steam, and falling heavily into the darkness of the deep well!