xymnovel Chapter 145 The Paradise Valley project is completed, and winter is approaching.
Chapter 145 The Paradise Valley project is completed, and winter is approaching.
Chapter 145 The Paradise Valley project is completed, and winter is approaching.
"No mixing of smoke channels! Everyone must go their own way! Otherwise," Tom's sharp eyes swept over the crowd, "if the smoke flows back in, people will die!"
After several days of hard work, the thick red brick fire wall was finally built, the stove was taking shape, and the chimney was pointing to the sky.
Now we're just waiting for those "mud bricks" to be cured so that the "kang surface" can be laid on them.
Old Cowboy Joe walked around the unprecedented structure several times, his rough hands stroking the warm red brick wall (the residual heat from the stove's test firing). His cloudy old eyes were no longer filled with doubt, but with deep amazement and a hint of barely perceptible awe.
"Tom," he said in a hoarse voice, pointing to the large table in the bedroom that everyone had been speculating about for so long, "what exactly is that thing?"
Tom stood on the earthen platform where the kang (heated brick bed) hadn't yet been laid out, meeting the curious and expectant gazes of the crowd. A confident smile curved his lips, and he declared firmly, "A heated kang!"
In October, the chilly winds of Paradise Valley were already beginning to show their fangs. When the last dark brown adobe brick was perfectly fitted into the edge of the kang (a heated brick bed), the construction of Dutton Manor finally came to a close.
The foreman rubbed his rough hands, his gaze lingering on the warm kang (heated brick bed) that exuded the scent of earth and grass.
"Tom," the foreman's throat was a little dry, his eyes filled with a mixture of longing and hesitation, "this skill in building the heated kang (traditional Chinese bed)—"
"I'm thinking about it—"
Tom interrupted him before he could even finish speaking.
The golden rays of the setting sun shone through the high window and fell on his young face, which was already etched with the marks of time.
"You may use this skill as you wish." His voice was clear and firm, like a hammer striking an anvil. "But there is one thing you must remember: this is Eastern wisdom, something that has been passed down for thousands of years."
The foreman and the engineer, Old Cowboy, were both stunned.
The East? In the minds of most Westerners in those days, this word was often associated with "mystery," "remoteness," or "cheap labor," and seemed to have nothing to do with the real, life-saving heated kang bed in front of them.
Tom saw through their confusion, and a meaningful smile appeared on his lips.
"I know what you're thinking. But the master craftsman who taught me how to build this kang (heated brick bed) only said one thing before he left: 'This is a rice bowl passed down from our ancestors. You can give it to others, but you can't say that you made it yourself.'"
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He paused, his gaze sweeping over the two of them. "So, if you're going to use it, you have to openly tell others that the roots of this heated kang (traditional heated bed) are in the East! As for the rest—"
Tom pulled a copy of a document bearing the official wax seal from his pocket and gently patted it onto the woodworking table beside him.
"I've submitted the formula for the antifreeze adobe bricks and the design of the cast iron flue valve to the patent office. You dare say those were ideas that popped out of a rock—"
He shrugged, leaving his unspoken words unsaid.
"Damn it, Tom!" Buck's eyes widened, half in shock and half in disbelief. "Why do you have to drag that damned East into this? Can't we just say it's your improvement that's not good enough?"
Tom's smile vanished, replaced by an almost reverent solemnity.
"Because I swore an oath to the Bible."
His voice wasn't loud, but it carried an undeniable weight: "Once you've promised someone, it's like a nail driven into a coffin—you can't pull it out. The craftsmanship belongs to them, and that can't be changed."
The contractor eventually left Paradise Valley with a huge sum of $12,000.
Whether he will follow Tom's rules or not, nobody knows.
All Tom could do was scatter the seeds; what kind of flowers they would bloom and what kind of fruit they would bear was up to God and Buck's own conscience.
This sum of money caused James and Margaret, the heads of the Dutton family, considerable distress for a long time.
But looking out from the steps of the newly built manor house, it was all worth it:
On 600 acres of land, four two-story granite buildings stand like fortresses, their rough walls reflecting the afterglow of the setting sun.
A row of sturdy, single-story stone houses (which the workers jokingly called "stone barracks") stood next to the stables, along with servants' quarters.
Tool sheds are scattered around the carefully planned granaries and hay storage areas.
The well pulley cast long shadows, and the heavy wooden doors of the cellar and icehouse were tightly shut, ready to face the test of winter.
A low but sturdy stone wall, like a loyal sheepdog, encloses and protects the core building complex.
Looking out over the vast grasslands, simple wooden fences separate the farmland from the pastures.
Rows of newly planted pine saplings stand tall in the autumn wind, serving as both a green barrier for the future and sentinels against blizzards.
Outside the manor, two sturdy stone bunkers guarded the main road, and eight tall watchtowers stood like vigilant eagles, with the beacon pits at the top of the towers filled with firewood soaked in grease.
A simple yet practical sluice gate controls the river that flows through the pasture, with two sturdy suspension bridges spanning it.
In the fertile pastures enclosed by fences, cattle ruminate leisurely; the newly turned farmland exudes the sweet, earthy scent of soil, awaiting next year's planting.
Everything was brimming with vitality after the pioneers' hard work.
Only two things, like tiny thorns pricking Tom's heart, meant that the steel network that ran through Paradise Valley and connected the future was ultimately never laid.
Train tracks.
High costs are the stated reason, while tight deadlines are the convenient excuse.
But Tom knew perfectly well that the most fundamental obstacle came from his father James's furrowed brow and his mother Elizabeth's worried eyes.
"Next spring—" Tom murmured to himself, gazing at the last glimmer of golden light on the distant horizon.
The railway tracks, like a dormant seed, can only be buried deep beneath the hard soil of Montana for the time being, waiting for a more suitable time to sprout.
The research lab! Tom's mind was constantly filled with the image of foreman Buck's stern, unyielding face.
That warning: "If the old cowboy dares to build it, I dare to report it to the higher-ups!"
This fueled Tom's growing suspicions. The old cowboy was definitely not a simple engineer.
Putting aside any doubts, Paradise Valley's winter preparations are fortress-like.
Inside the huge warehouse, piles of split pine and hardwood formed several small hills, and dark coal filled the deep pits in the corners. The air was filled with the fresh scent of sawdust and the dusty smell of coal.
The hay shed was crammed full of hay and bean cakes that smelled of soybeans, almost bursting through the roof.
Even the huge stone troughs for drinking water in the livestock sheds were filled with cold, clear stream water in advance.
However, beneath the bustling and peaceful scene, one tension remained taut: Elsa's delivery.
James sent people to several nearby towns, where the so-called "Western doctors" were shockingly crude in their skills.
A drunken old man thumped his chest and boasted, "I've delivered hundreds of calves, and women too!"
These words almost made James draw his gun on the spot.
In this wild and untamed land, finding a safe haven for a new life is incredibly difficult.
"Tom!" A rough call interrupted his reverie.
Wade leaned closer, a hint of anxiety in his eyes. "When are we heading out hunting? There are a lot more mouths lurking in the valley this year."
He lowered his voice and gestured with his chin toward the busy cowboys, "Meat—we can't go without it."