An Unexpected Result

O'Hara jumped off her horse with some restraint, bowed to Mr. Howlett, and stood to the side without a word. James stepped forward a few paces and said, "Mr. Daniel gave us a half-day off today, so you can't blame us."

Mr. Howlett laughed heartily, ruffled James's hair, and said to Victor, "Black Mountain's coat has been looking purer lately. You've done well, Victor."

"It is my duty, Mr. Howlett." Victor responded softly. This steady demeanor made Mr. Howlett nod slightly.

"Alright, I haven't moved much these past few days. I'm going to take Black Mountain out for a trot. Would you like to come along, James?"

"That would be wonderful, Grandfather! I've always wanted to try riding Black Mountain!" James replied, feigning excitement. He then instructed O'Hara to play for a while before heading back, and followed Mr. Howlett out of the stables.

Even in a simple linen shirt and standard wide-legged cowboy trousers, Mr. Howlett carried a distinct air. It wasn't the refined nobility of a long-standing aristocrat, but rather the bold spirit of an old military commander, his movements sharp and efficient. He bent down to hoist James onto the horse's back, took the reins, and the two of them and the horse strolled across the vast pasture.

"Jamie, what do you think of Victor?" Mr. Howlett asked.

"Mature for his age, steady and capable," James answered briefly and quickly.

Mr. Howlett looked at his young grandson with great surprise, the corners of his mouth lifting as he praised, "It seems your reading is really paying off. Daniel wasn't wrong; you've truly made great progress." Mr. Howlett nodded repeatedly, walking forward with a gratified stride.

Seeing this, James considered for a moment and said to Mr. Howlett, "Grandfather, I've heard that Victor's father... well, is not easy to get along with?" Mr. Howlett did not answer directly, only saying, "Whatever you have to say, finish it first."

"It's like this: Victor is a useful person. In the future, when I manage the family business, I will need help, and loyalty cultivated from a young age is naturally the most solid. It's just that I've heard Victor and his father, Mr. Thomas Logan, do not have a good relationship. It is said that besides drinking, Mr. Logan never takes care of Victor and often beats and whips him. I hope to improve Victor's situation to some extent; that way, he will surely be grateful to our Howlett family."

Mr. Howlett looked at James with an increasingly different expression. He countered, "Then what do you think should be done?" James thought for a moment and said calmly, "Why not let Mr. Logan leave the estate and go further away? Give him a position with no real power, but one where he can live more comfortably, such as looking after the northernmost cattle ranch or the eastern cotton fields. This way, Victor can not only get away from him but also grow up under the care of the Howlett family, and he will surely serve the family well in the future."

Mr. Howlett, his pace slowing, let out a long sigh: "I have tried my best to estimate your growth, Jamie, but you still surprise me so much. I still underestimated you. Very good, very good, excellent! Worthy of being my, William Howlett's, grandson!" James lowered his head, feigning shyness, while muttering to himself whether this idea was really worth such joy. On second thought, he was only "twelve years old" and had previously been weak and introverted, so it was no wonder Old Howlett was so happy.

A slightly calmer Mr. Howlett continued, "It is excellent that you can think this way. As the future heir of the family, you need to have such considerations. I have felt for some time that keeping this Thomas Logan on the estate would sooner or later cause trouble. You don't need to worry about this matter; Grandfather will give you a satisfactory answer."

The grandfather and grandson strolled for a while longer before returning to prepare for dinner. This was a plan James had considered for a long time, and so far, things had gone unexpectedly smoothly. He had thought of various possibilities; the safest was to kill Thomas Logan, but as his true biological father in this life, James, while not feeling much attachment, did not want to bear the evil consequences of patricide.

He did not want to do this unless absolutely necessary. Besides, he only had the body of a ten-year-old, and even if he had certain means to deal with Thomas Logan, he would still face great risks. Letting him leave the estate was the best choice. Even if he were unwilling or refused, Mr. Howlett had plenty of ways to deal with Thomas Logan, and as long as Logan didn't go insane or try to end his own life, he wouldn't go around spreading rumors about Mrs. Elizabeth.

Having lifted a huge weight off his heart, James ate an extra steak that night. His appetite was growing larger; his training over the past few months had clearly promoted his physical development, and he hadn't fallen ill inexplicably as he had before.

After dinner, Mr. Howlett mentioned to John and Elizabeth that he wanted to send Thomas Logan to the northernmost cattle ranch to guard fodder and other supplies, providing him with a relatively generous weekly wage and a small house. Elizabeth supported Mr. Howlett with unexpected joy, pretending to be indifferent and saying it was all up to her father to decide.

John, however, was somewhat opposed, saying something about how Thomas would eventually change his ways. Mr. Howlett couldn't help but feel dissatisfied with this weak-willed and indecisive son, but the thought that his grandson was a capable lad brought him some comfort.

It seemed as if everything was settled, and the estate had seemingly dodged a potential storm.

Faced with such a promotion, Thomas Logan refused as expected, but when Mr. Howlett coldly told him that if he didn't want to go, he could leave the estate and go wherever he pleased, he gritted his teeth and agreed. That same night, he tried to approach Elizabeth to tell her everything and try to move up their "elopement" plan, but coincidentally, Mrs. Howlett had been staying indoors lately, giving him no chance to meet or speak with her at all.

The weather in Alberta had been gloomy and unsettled lately, as if brewing something.

At nightfall, a dull rumble of thunder echoed in the thick, ink-black sky. In this era, without moonlight or starlight, the outdoors was truly pitch black.

Thomas Logan sat on his old cloth sofa, his body deeply sunken into it, holding a nearly empty bottle of rum, with two empty bottles at his feet. Victor was already hiding in his room, lying down, not knowing if he was truly asleep or just deliberately not making a sound, as if he didn't exist.

Logan's dark, red, storm-cloud-like face was full of ferocity, his heart roaring and accusing everything. The alcohol had muddled Thomas Logan's brain; his already muscle-bound mind was fueled by the strong liquor. He rose in a frenzy, grabbed the hunting rifle standing by the bed, broke it open to check the bullet pressed into the chamber, and with a flick of his hand, cocked the stock.

Thomas Logan pushed the door open and strode out, and finally, a bolt of lightning struck from the sky as the rain poured down.

Mr. Howlett was getting on in years, and with such a stormy night, he hadn't been able to fall asleep, tossing and turning in bed with an uneasy heart. A faint sound of banging on the door echoed from downstairs, but it wasn't very clear through the interference of the heavy rain.

BOOM!

The loud noise of the hunting rifle blasting the door open completely woke him up. Mr. Howlett rolled out of bed, felt for the short-barreled flintlock in his nightstand, checked it, and nimbly stepped out of the room, leaning against the wall of the hallway.

"Elizabeth! Elizabeth!"

Thomas Logan kept shouting, wandering and yelling in the main hall of the estate, his head as red as a fighting cock. John also threw on some clothes and left his room. He comforted his wife, telling her not to move and to stay in the room, then ran into his father by the stairs.

"It sounds like Thomas. I'll go check; Father, you go back to rest. It'll be fine."

The old man wanted to hold his son back, but only caught the hem of John's clothes. John said "Don't worry" and ran down empty-handed.

Mr. Howlett quickly went down the other side, called for four hands who were already awake and armed, nodded slightly, and led them to follow quickly.

Just as they approached the hall, a loud bang—the explosion of a hunting rifle—rang out again. His heart sank with a thud. The old man's beard trembled as he hurried up the steps, only to see his son in white pajamas lying in a pool of blood, his entire chest stained bright red.

Thomas Logan stood to the side, panting heavily with the gun in his hand, as if he were a mere spectator.

He watched as the four gunmen beside Mr. Howlett raised their rifles at him, and blinding sparks flashed from the muzzles one after another...