xymnovel Chapter 141 Tom Walks Out of Paradise Valley Alone
Chapter 141 Tom Walks Out of Paradise Valley Alone
Chapter 141 Tom Walks Out of Paradise Valley Alone
The heavy pine planks were lifted onto the cleared hard ground.
Use an ink line to draw precise lines, then use a long-handled handsaw and a wide-mouthed chisel to process the tenon.
The blacksmith's forged bolts and heavy iron hinges were left to bake in the sun, so hot to the touch they could be used to bake pancakes.
The air was filled with the scent of pine resin, the pungent smell of lime, the stench of sweat, and the smell of rust.
The old cowboy looked at the foundation of the platform and the heavy pine gate next to it, reinforced with bolts and iron parts, and then looked up at the still scorching sun in the sky.
He licked his chapped lips and said to Tom, "Now comes the real, fucking delicate work—"
He pointed to the pile of scorching hot cast iron hinges and the door track steel rails waiting to be installed.
He said, "The real challenge is to fit this heavy wooden door perfectly into the track and make it rise and fall smoothly in the rushing water."
The oak crossbeams behind the pine gate are "entirely responsible for withstanding the impact of the river water!"
Tom remained silent; this was completely different from the sluice gate he knew!
Ultimately, it comes down to materials and technology!
Later, steel cofferdams and diesel pumps were used to pump out the same amount of water in a few hours.
Installing the gate is the most dangerous part.
Without sufficient buoyancy, the heavy wooden door panels had to be pulled and dragged by ropes, pulleys, and manpower.
The old cowboy roared commands, his voice distorted by the heat: "Left! Pull! Slow down! Hold on! Use the crowbar to brace down there!"
Don't let it tilt!
With a heavy thud, the gate finally fell into the stone-built doorway.
Everyone collapsed to the ground, gasping for breath, their throats feeling like they were on fire.
The old cowboy struggled to his feet and walked to the rough hand-cranked winch.
He gripped the cold iron handle and shook it with all his might.
The enormous gears emitted a piercing "creak," like the mournful cry of a dying beast.
The heavy gate panel rose slowly and laboriously, inch by inch, within the gate slot.
Shake it again, and it slowly falls down.
"It's too rough!" the old cowboy shouted to Tom, panting. "Go! Get the animal fat! I've smeared it all over the door tracks and hinges, inside and out! It's fine if it's rough now, but if it freezes in winter and gets stuck, all our work will have been for nothing!"
Tom could only nod and get the oil for the old cowboy!
After several days of effort, this simple gate appeared in Paradise Valley.
"This is completely different from the sluice gate I envisioned!" Tom frowned as he looked at the old cowboy.
The old cowboy nodded. "It can only block the river and prevent it from flowing downstream."
Tom asked uncertainly, "What if the flood comes? Do we have to open the floodgates?"
"Of course!" The old cowboy's answer clearly didn't meet Tom's expectations. "We'll build you one that suits your taste even better another time!"
Tom pretended not to hear the second half of the sentence.
Reconstruction? Easier said than done, how much money would that cost!
However, this sluice gate at least fulfilled its most essential function.
Blocking the river's flow is enough.
For the next few days, Tom practically lived by the sluice gate, only occasionally visiting the adopted children and ignoring everything else.
All the affairs of Paradise Valley naturally fell to James.
It was late at night, and Tom squatted by the doghouse, staring at the little lion cub.
The little one's eyes were still closed, but his breathing was steady and he seemed to be in good condition.
But the female dog beside him, acting as his temporary mother, was watching him warily, her eyes full of suspicion.
"Don't worry," Tom whispered helplessly, "this is your son, I won't take him."
The mother dog made a low growling sound in her throat and moved her body closer to the puppies, almost hiding them completely under her belly.
This reaction couldn't be clearer; it had already come to regard the lion cub as its own flesh and blood.
Tom wondered to himself: I wonder what this strange mother and son will become when this "son" grows up.
"They get along well," a gentle voice suddenly sounded from the side.
Tom looked up and saw his mother, Margaret.
"Hmm." He responded, got up to give up his small stool, and casually found a rock next to him to sit down.
Margaret's gaze fell on the doghouse, filled with curiosity and warmth: "Have you been so busy lately?"
"Yes," Tom nodded, his gaze also turning towards the sluice gate. "You know, this sluice gate is something I've always wanted to build. Although it won't be as effective as I imagined, at least it can hold back the river, and that'll be enough."
Margaret wanted to see the special "mother and cub" pair, but the mother dog protected the lion cub so well that she could only see her wary back and couldn't see anything else.
"The sluice gate is finished, what's next?" Mother Margaret gazed at the distant sky, her tone casual as if she were chatting.
This question left Tom speechless for a moment.
With my father personally overseeing the construction of Dutton Estate, the watchtower is almost complete and the results are quite good.
At least my father didn't find anything wrong with it during his inspection.
The fence around the ranch is still under construction, and dozens of cowboys are busy marking out the land every day, while a dozen others are chopping and storing firewood.
"Yes," Tom responded, changing the subject, "Remember to remind James that it's time to prepare the hay for the livestock for winter."
He figured that forty cowboys should be enough for now.
Tom said, "I have things to do tomorrow," and went back to his room.
Soon after, James appeared beside Margaret.
"I told you, you should talk to him yourself," Margaret sighed. "This is a matter between you men."
James smirked, a hint of helplessness in his expression. "What are we talking about? Talking about him dumping all the burden on me? Talking about him shirking his responsibilities?"
“You know he’s not that kind of person, Margaret!” James’s tone suddenly turned serious, his gaze sharpening as he looked at his wife. “Didn’t you see? He’s out there at the sluice gate every day, coming back covered in mud! What’s he after?”
The air seemed to freeze as soon as the words were spoken.
"You blame Elsa?" Margaret suddenly asked, her voice very soft.
"No!" James answered decisively.
He paused, his gaze deepening. "At first, I thought it was just a sibling rivalry. But later I realized it wasn't that simple."
Upon hearing her husband's words, the smile that had just appeared on Margaret's face vanished instantly, replaced by a serious expression.
"Tom is doing what he thinks he has to do," James said in a deep voice, each word carrying weight.
"What do you mean?" Margaret's heart skipped a beat, and her voice tightened.
James looked directly into her eyes, his tone unusually serious: "Elsa—is not a responsibility that Tom must bear."
"Impossible!" Margaret almost growled, her voice trembling with disbelief. "They are sisters." However, faced with James's unwavering seriousness, all her subsequent rebuttals stuck in her throat, ultimately turning into a heavy sigh.
Inside the room, Tom leaned against the door, his brows furrowed.
As dawn broke, Tom disappeared down the path leading to the southern entrance of the valley.
He took "Loach" and "Snow Woman" with him, as well as "Wilderness" and "Hurricane".
Even Zach wasn't brought along.
James's brow furrowed instantly.
Margaret's heart sank, and she instinctively gripped her husband's arm tightly.
Their eyes met, and they both saw the same thought in each other's eyes: Tom's behavior was not right!