America 1883: The Western Homeland

Chapter 151 Paradise Valley Implements a Membership System for Hot Spring Bathing

Who could forget the bone-chilling warmth of a hot spring? It's simply a life-saving bath in the dead of winter!

Sure enough, Dutton Manor was besieged by uninvited guests early in the morning.

The front yard of the manor was packed with climbing vehicles and steeds braving the wind and snow.

The visitors were a mixed bunch: a rancher wrapped in a thick fur coat, a businessman in a respectable woolen overcoat, a miner with coal dust stains on his face, and even the fat owner of the town's general store.

They braved the biting wind and heavy snow to come as a group, with only one goal: the hot springs!

"James!" an elderly rancher with graying hair and beard was the first to speak up, his voice hoarse in the cold wind. "You know why everyone's here! This valley doesn't belong to you alone! You've fenced off the pastures and taken over the water source, and we've accepted it with gritted teeth! But you can't keep this hot spring to yourself!"

He waved his arms excitedly, spittle almost freezing onto his beard. "My old life depends on soaking in those hot springs every winter! You're practically cutting off my lifeline!"

"It's cutting off everyone's livelihood! Isn't it?!" Someone nearby immediately echoed loudly.

The crowd, like burning dry grass, buzzed in agreement, nodding vigorously.

That's right! This hot spring used to be a treasure in the wild, and anyone who wanted to soak in it could.

But now? Just look at that newly erected bunker at the mouth of the valley, with its dark gun ports pointing outwards, and my legs can't help but tremble!

If it weren't for the few cheap drinks I had at the "Wild Horse Bar" last night to bolster my courage, and the fact that I had a lot of people around me, who would dare to come to "Paradise Valley" alone to demand an explanation?

pat!

A sudden, sharp metallic clang pierced the noise like an icicle breaking through the din.

Everyone stiffened and turned to look at the source of the sound. They saw Tom, expressionless, bending down to pick up his gleaming Colt revolver from the ground.

He slowly blew the dirt off the gun, deftly rotated the magazine with his fingers, making a slight clicking sound, before steadily putting it back into the holster on his waist.

"Tsk, slipped." He said casually, without even lifting his eyelids.

The scene, which had been bustling with excitement just moments before, was instantly silenced.

You could hear a pin drop.

Only the mournful sound of the cold wind whistling past the eaves.

A slip of the hand? Can a gun just "slip" to the ground like that? This time it fell to the ground, but next time—who will the muzzle slide towards? Many people subconsciously shrank their necks, their Adam's apples bobbing with difficulty, swallowing that mouthful of cold saliva.

James cleared his throat at the opportune moment, breaking the suffocating silence: "Everyone knows the location of the hot springs."

My ranch isn't a place anyone can just walk into.

His tone was calm, yet carried an undeniable distance.

As soon as these words were spoken, the anger that had just been suppressed by the gunshots suddenly flared up again, and several hot-tempered people were about to speak.

"Cough!" Tom's short, forceful cough was like a bucket of ice water poured over their heads, instantly sobering up the impulsive guys and making them swallow back the words they were about to say.

"James!" A burly rancher with a full beard and a bear-like build couldn't hold back any longer. He shoved aside the people blocking his way and roared, "We know you sold the gold mine and made a fortune, and you have plenty of cowboys and guns! But we ranchers aren't made of clay! We have money and manpower!"

He patted his chest with his large, fan-like hands, spitting as he spoke, "We have no other requests! We just want to soak in a hot spring!"

That's all!

He stood there, looking every bit the part of someone saying, "If you don't let me have a soak, I'm sleeping here tonight."

James frowned almost imperceptibly.

Just then, Tom took half a step forward, his cold gaze sweeping across the room. His voice, though not loud, clearly pierced everyone's ears: "Bubble, okay."

The crowd's eyes lit up, and their faces lit up with joy.

"But," Tom changed the subject, "it's the spring outside the valley entrance."

"No way!" a shrill voice immediately rang out from the back of the crowd. "We want to soak in the valley! Who wants to soak in that lousy spring at the valley entrance!"

"Oh?" Tom's lips curled into a cold smile, his sharp gaze piercing the source of the voice as if it were a physical object. "Which friend has a brilliant idea? Step forward and share it with me."

Dead silence.

In the direction being stared at, the crowd shrank to both sides like a tide, revealing a pale-faced small businessman. He kept his head down, wishing he could bury his head in the snow, and dared not utter a sound.

Tom looked away, as if nothing had happened, and continued in his unquestionable tone, "The spring at the valley entrance is big enough. There are too many of you, and the one inside is too small. Who gets to use it, and who doesn't? It's easy for conflicts to arise, and it's easy for—something to happen."

He paused, his gaze slowly sweeping over each face, whether tense, angry, or fearful.

"Therefore, we've set a new rule: membership system!"

Tom's voice suddenly rose, carrying a coldness that seemed to declare the power of life and death, "Public pool, one hundred dollars a month!"

For personal use only! Limited spots available, first come, first served.

His cold smile deepened. "All spots are filled? Even if you freeze to death at my doorstep, I'll just have someone dig a hole and bury you, so you won't get in my way! Now, who wants to apply? There are only twenty spots! Report!"

One hundred dollars a month!

This price made many people gasp in shock!

But—think of the taste of that hot spring, think of this damned cold, think of the bunker at the valley entrance and this menacing figure before me—

"I'll do it!" The bearded rancher was the first to jump out, roaring loudly.

He didn't want to make a wasted trip, and he certainly didn't want to be unable to even drink soup at the valley entrance in the future!

Money? Ranchers have no shortage of livestock; they can sell them for money!

Tom nodded. "Remember, you're VIP004! You'll get a tag later; it's your proof of membership. If you lose it or destroy it, your money is wasted!"

"There are still nineteen spots left!" Tom's voice was like a death knell.

With the bearded man leading the way, coupled with the sense of urgency of "limited spots" and Tom's invisible pressure, the remaining nineteen spots instantly became highly sought after!

"Me! Give me one!"

"And me! The money's here!"

"Don't push! I was here first!"

The scene immediately descended into chaos. The "Soup-Seeking Alliance," which had been united in their hatred of the enemy, crumbled and turned into a frantic buying frenzy.

The twenty spots were snapped up in the blink of an eye.

Those who didn't manage to grab one looked at the lucky ones with faces full of frustration and envy.

Tom, however, simply crossed his arms and watched all of this coldly, as if it were a farce that had nothing to do with him.

Just as those who failed to secure a spot were disheartened and preparing to brave the cold wind and grumble their way home, Tom's icy voice rang out again, like a drop of cold water being poured into a pot of boiling oil: "Those who didn't get one—don't be in such a hurry to cry."

Whoosh! All the disappointed, resentful, and unwilling gazes instantly focused on him, carrying a hint of unbelievable anticipation.

"Premium Membership," a faint, mocking smile seemed to curl at the corner of his lips, "three spots available."

"Whoosh—!"

The crowd instantly stirred, and a new flame of hope suddenly ignited from the ashes of despair!

Those who didn't manage to grab one had their eyes light up, and their breathing became heavy!

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