America 1883: The Western Homeland

Chapter 77 The Dutton Family Arrives in Bozeman, Montana

The convoy, kicking up dust, approached from afar.

The lead cowboy's face resembled sandstone polished by wind and sand, with prominent, resolute cheekbones.

His grey-blue eyes, hidden in the shadow of his worn-out cowboy hat, held a rugged, untamed quality.

His faded hat brim was riddled with holes, his canvas trousers had holes worn through at the knees, and he wore leather trousers soaked in tallow and shiny with oil.

The revolver at his waist was polished to a shine and was slanted into a worn-out holster.

The brown Morgan horse beneath him had a mane as tangled as withered grass, the saddle was torn open, revealing bits of bison hide stuffed inside, the horseshoes were chipped, and every step kicked up reddish-brown dust.

James Dutton, mounted on his horse, gazed at the vast pastures, his brow furrowed, lost in thought.

In the carriage that followed closely behind, Margaret Dutton's face was also etched with the marks of time, with sunspots spreading from the corners of her eyes.

A faded headscarf wrapped around a thick braid, with a few strands of dry hair hanging down her neck.

The canvas skirt was covered in mud, and the deerskin boots were torn.

Her large, bony hands gripped the reins tightly. When she turned to command the packhorses, her sandy-colored eyes were filled with weariness, yet unusually clear-headed.

Her gaze swept across the ranch, finally settling on the familiar figure at the ranch entrance.

Behind them were Aunt Claire, Mary, Simone, and the lame cook's carriage.

At the rear of the convoy were the cattle and horses being driven by Ennis and Cooper.

The convoy finally stopped at the gate, kicking up a cloud of dust.

Tom quickly spurred his horse forward: "Everyone, come inside! Hot water is ready in the rooms, take a hot shower before you eat!"

The words "hot bath" seemed to have a magical power, instantly brightening the eyes of the group who had traveled a long way.

"Tom!" Aunt Claire pointed to the brand-new wooden sign above the door, her voice rising, "What does that sign mean?"

The words "Dutton House" were clearly visible.

Tom smiled slightly: "This is the ranch I bought, so of course it belongs to the Dutton family!"

"You bought it?" Aunt Claire's voice was incredibly sharp.

"That's right," Tom nodded, his tone resolute, "this ranch belongs to Dutton."

Aunt Claire straightened up instantly, her eyes gleaming with excitement: "It belongs to our Dutton family? Not rented?"

"Absolutely true!" Tom assured him.

"James! Did you hear me? Hurry up! I need to take a shower!" Claire's voice was full of urgency and pride.

James nodded helplessly, signaling the team to move forward.

Margaret gave Tom a warm smile.

Just then, the canopy of the carriage behind her was suddenly ripped open, and a small head popped out.

"Tom!" Little John screamed excitedly, stretching out his hands.

Tom laughed and scooped him out of the carriage like a radish.

Over the course of a few months, Tom had shed his former thinness, grown taller, and broadened his shoulders, though he still looked somewhat frail.

He secretly vowed to himself: this winter, he would eat piles of meat and stuff himself full!

Knowing that the ranch was Tom's property and that they could take hot baths, everyone's tired faces were brightened by smiles.

As soon as the carriage came to a stop in front of the house, James was the first to jump out.

Everyone immediately sprang into action: some unloaded the carts, some unsaddled the horses, and others drove the cattle and horses toward the pasture, raising a cloud of dust.

The entire ranch was instantly infused with new vitality, a scene of bustling activity!

There weren't enough rooms, so the men had to sleep on the floor in the lobby.

Of the four rooms available, three were given to the ladies.

Tom was in a great mood after seeing his family, until...!

The curtain of the wagon was lifted, and Elsa, supported by her mother Margaret, staggered out.

She was holding a bottle of whiskey in her hand!

"We're home? So fast..." Elsa mumbled indistinctly.

Tom's smile froze instantly. He stared intently at the glaring bottle, a surge of anger rising within him, and a low growl squeezed out from between his teeth:

"Elsa! What are you holding?!"

Elsa's collarbone fracture had been treated long ago, and with Tom's meticulous care over the past two weeks, her condition was basically stable; all that was left was rest.

"Tom... what are you doing here?" Elsa asked, her eyes glazed over and her words slurred.

Seeing her like this, Tom suppressed his anger and turned to his mother, Margaret: "I told you, her period of severe pain is long over! She needs rest now! Drinking alcohol will only make her bones heal badly!"

He knew very well that alcohol would slow down bone healing.

Margaret took a deep breath, lowered her eyes, and remained silent.

"Don't blame your mother!" Aunt Claire interjected, her gaze sweeping over Elsa with undisguised contempt. "She said her shoulder hurt, what could your mother do? She could only give her whiskey to relieve the pain! Where are we supposed to live?"

She changed the subject abruptly, leading her daughter Mary, and asked Tom for a room.

Tom suppressed his worries about Elsa and arranged accommodations first.

The main house has two bedrooms: one for Margaret and Elsa, and one for Claire and Mary.

The remaining men? They're sleeping on the living room floor; that's all they can do for now.

"This is the one?" Claire pointed.

Tom nodded.

"When can I take a shower?"

"The water's boiled, the big tub's full of hot water, and the bathtub's ready too. After you've finished washing..."

"I'll pour it for her!" James abruptly cut Tom off, his gaze fixed intently on Claire. "Any more questions?"

Claire glanced at James, then pulled Mary into the room.

"Is Elsa asleep?" James asked Margaret.

"Mmm," Margaret replied softly.

Tom looked at his parents, somewhat bewildered.

"Where do we shower?" James asked, getting straight to the point.

Tom was taken aback, then understood and led them to the tool shed, where some rusty plowshares were piled up.

"This is where we store farm tools. You can shower by setting up the tent flap." He pointed to the steaming bathtub and hot water bucket next to him. "Don't worry, no one will come."

Tom closed the door and left, then went to find Zack and the others.

Zach had already arranged for Simone and the lame cook to be placed in the two bedrooms of the staff quarters, and the cook was also benefiting from this because of his leg disability.

The living room naturally belonged to Zach, Cooper, and Ennis.

"Take a shower in the storeroom; Zack knows where it is. After showering, eat, and then rest!"

Tom finished giving his instructions quickly and efficiently, then returned to the main house kitchen.

In the kitchen, a large iron pot was simmering beef and carrots, filling the air with a rich aroma.

Tom didn't serve the food until the table was full of his family, who had washed away the dust of their journey and were starving.

The main course was steaming hot beef stew with carrots, and the staple food was crispy toasted bread, with a large block of solidified butter on the side.

Simple, yet piping hot and plentiful!

And of course, whiskey!

The sun was sinking slowly into the west.

Tom sat alone under the wide porch, his back against a rough log pillar.

Inside the main house behind us, the sounds of snoring rose and fell in waves!

His gaze swept into the distance, across the vast grasslands.

Herds of cattle and horses strolled leisurely in the twilight, their long tails sweeping lightly as they bent down to pluck at the withered yet still lush autumn grass.

As far as the eye can see, there are rolling mountains.

Tom just sat there quietly.

I couldn't help but think of the carefree ranch life in the West that my parents longed for. Was this what they yearned for?