xymnovel Chapter 143 Tom's Unexpected Gain
Chapter 143 Tom's Unexpected Gain
Chapter 143 Tom's Unexpected Gain
"Boss—are we—are we really going to arrest them?" the adjutant asked cautiously as he approached.
*Smack!*
A crisp, loud slap shattered the silence of the police station!
The sheriff's pent-up anger and frustration found an outlet at this moment, and he slapped his adjutant hard across the face!
The adjutant was knocked off balance and fell to the ground, half of his face instantly swelling up and his ears ringing.
Tom didn't care how the sheriff reacted after he left.
He rode away from Paradise Valley, intending to go to the lower reaches of the Yellowstone River to find suitable clay for making bricks.
Horse hooves pounded through the weeds, and two wolves, like gray shadows, lurked on the flanks.
As they reached the southern pass of Paradise Valley, Tom caught a glimpse of something unusual out of the corner of his eye. A guy dressed as a cowboy was huddled behind a weathered red rock, peeking out furtively, his eyes fixed on the wasteland at the valley entrance.
"Hey!" Tom pulled on the reins, his voice low but sharp like a whip lashing through the silence. "What are you looking at?"
The cowboy shuddered, turned his head, a flicker of panic crossing his face, then quickly regained his composure: "None of your business! Can't I pee?"
Tom's eyes instantly turned cold.
Paradise Valley is his territory, and any suspicious spying crosses his line.
"The last time,"
His voice was devoid of emotion. "Who sent you? What are you looking at?"
"What the hell is it to you?!" the cowboy retorted, his hand instinctively reaching for the gun handle at his waist.
Swish!
Tom's dagger had somehow gotten stuck in his arm.
"It seems," Tom said, a cold smile creeping onto his lips, "that you've chosen the wrong path."
A moment later, Tom put away the bloodstained dagger and wiped it clean on the desolate weeds.
He mounted the horse without even glancing at the cowboy tied to its back.
And so, Tom finally brought the cattle thief to the police station.
I came out of Livingston.
"Let's go!" he called softly, leading the wolf and the horse deeper into the winding banks of the Yellowstone River.
After several days of trekking, Tom's eyes were drawn to a bare earthen cliff on the riverbank.
The soil layer had a uniform, fine reddish-brown color, which was exactly the high-quality clay he had been searching for!
He dismounted, squatted down, picked up a clump of soil with his fingers, and felt its perfect stickiness and granular texture.
A long-lost feeling of almost joy had just swept through my heart.
"Boy, what are you looking for here?"
An old but powerful voice suddenly rang out.
Tom turned around abruptly, his hand already on the gun handle.
Not far away stood an old cowboy with white hair and beard, his face weathered and worn, dressed in faded denim, yet his back was ramrod straight.
What was most eye-catching was the unusual bronze badge hanging from his waist.
"Who are you?" Tom asked warily, and the wolves tensed up, letting out a low, warning growl.
The old man didn't answer, but simply pointed to the vast, rugged mountain range to the west: "I work in there, Yellowstone National Park. I'm kind of a mountain protector."
His sharp light swept over Tom's clay-covered fingers and the digging marks on the ground.
"Yellowstone Park?" Tom frowned.
He had heard of the vast game reserve, but never of any "mountain watchers" or staff.
However, the old man's eyes and aura didn't seem like he was lying, nor did he have any reason to lie.
"Find some clay and make bricks," Tom said succinctly, withdrawing his hand from the gun, but his vigilance remained.
"Making bricks?" The old man seemed to have heard the biggest joke in the world. His cloudy old eyes sized Tom up and down. "You? In the middle of nowhere?"
He shook his head, with the certainty of someone who'd been there before. "Want bricks? Go to Billings! They have plenty! Save your energy, kid!"
"Billings? Do you sell red bricks?" Tom pressed.
"Of course!" The old man seemed to have found something amusing, looking him over with interest. "Young man, what are you buying bricks for? You're not planning to build a house, are you?"
"Yes," Tom answered decisively, "we'll build it with red bricks."
"Pfft—hahaha!" The old man laughed so hard his beard trembled. "Montana winters can freeze a calf's tail to the bone! But if you build a sturdy wooden house, you can still survive!"
Seeing Tom staring at him with a suspicious look, as if he were a fool, his laughter subsided a bit. He tentatively asked, "You experienced that deadly cold snap last year, so you want to build a brick house?"
Tom nodded silently.
The old man shook his head vigorously, saying, "Trust me, there will never be such eerie weather again!"
His tone was so certain it was almost mysterious, which made Tom suspicious. What made this old man so sure?
"Even if you buy bricks," the old man Jian said, changing the subject with a hint of shrewdness from someone who's been through it all, "the price won't be much lower!"
"With that spare money, why not add some and build a stone house directly? That would be a one-time solution!"
This statement reveals a key piece of information: red bricks are cheaper than stones, but the price difference is limited.
"Where can I buy Billings?" Tom went straight to the point, not bothering with any more questions.
"On the banks of the Yellowstone River! The place belching black smoke, even a blind man could find it!" The old mountain watcher gestured downstream.
Tom spurred his horse and led the pack of wolves away, leaving only a clean and decisive silhouette behind.
Building a brick house? Of course not!
The horses' hooves pounded on the gravel along the Yellowstone Riverbank, and the pungent smell of sulfur in the air grew stronger and stronger.
Until we rounded a bend in the river, three giant kilns, resembling crouching beasts, suddenly came into view!
The massive kiln cast a pulsating shadow on the riverbank, and a dozen thick chimneys on its roof were spewing out thick plumes of smoke.
In front of the giant hole at the kiln entrance that spews flames, several shirtless men are wielding steel shovels, stirring the hellish furnace-like flames.
"Hey! The brick maker?" Tom Lema stopped not far from the kiln entrance.
A towering figure emerged from the arched fire door.
Old Mori wiped his face with the back of his hand, which was covered in coal dust.
"It's a brick factory!" Mori kicked a broken brick away with a "bang," sending fragments flying.
"The best red bricks in Montana! Clay from the Yellowstone River, fired to perfection with pine wood! Want to test it?"
Tom dismounted, took a few steps forward, bent down and picked up half a broken brick.
It has a heavy, scorching texture and sharp, angular edges that could cut your hand.
Without saying a word, he drew his short sword, and with a flash of cold light, he slashed down with all his might!
"Clang—!!!"
A piercing clang of metal clashing rang out!
The blade scraped across the brick surface, leaving a trail of dazzling sparks and only a faint white mark.
"Can it withstand the harsh winter of Montana?" Tom stared at the red glow deep within the brickwork, his voice icy.
Delin snatched the red brick and strode towards the riverbank.
The red bricks drew a crimson arc of death in the air before crashing heavily onto the hard pebble beach!
"Clang—!!!"
The brick tumbled and rolled several times on the pebble beach, and when it came to a stop, its sharp edges were perfectly defined, without even a single chip!
"Kid, watch carefully!" Morrie stepped forward, picked up the brick, and with a sudden burst of force, snapped it in two with a "crack"!
The cross-section is dense and uniform, without any pores.
"If it cracks halfway through when the frost thaws next spring—"
The old kiln worker's bloodshot eyes were fixed on Tom, and he uttered each word with gusto: "You can tear down this kiln all you want!"
As the morning light pierced through the smoke and dust, five thousand red bricks were piled up on the truck to form a red Great Wall.
Tom drove the carriage toward Paradise Valley!