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🕑 Added 2025-06-02 22:38:57 +0000 UTCWind in the Smoke
Chapter 200 - The Rainy Season Is Approaching, Barley Harvest
Summer in Montana has a unique charm that can't be ignored.
In the early morning, the sunlight is still gentle, as if softly caressing the earth and slowly waking it up.
But by mid-morning, the sun began to warm more. Although not scorching, it was strong enough not to be ignored.
Golden light spread across the wheat fields, and the waves of wheat rose and fell with the breeze like a flowing golden sea, making the view even more dazzling.
The air was filled with the fragrance of plants, mingled with the slightly rippling waves of heat, bringing a hint of moisture when the wind blew—almost as if something was brewing, some imminent change on the horizon.
Dante stood at the edge of the field, his hands in the pockets of his jeans, eyes fixed on the rippling waves of wheat and the clouds gradually gathering in the distance.
The clouds on the horizon of the Rocky Mountains gradually changed from soft white to gray at the edges, and heavy shadows slowly eroded the blue sky.
He squinted slightly, raised his hand to block the dazzling sunlight, and tuned his ears to every subtle change in the wind.
“The storm probably isn’t far off.” Alan then pulled out his phone to check the weather forecast. The icon on the screen—a dark cloud with heavy rainfall—tightened his chest.
“It’ll rain tomorrow and the day after.” He murmured to himself, his voice thoughtful. “If the moisture level is right, we’ll have to harvest today.”
Two days ago, Dante had sent someone to measure the moisture content in the wheat fields, and the data showed it was just over 20%.
Dante had come today to confirm the situation again. He sighed, pocketed his phone, and surveyed the wheat field before him.
The plump golden grains shimmered lightly under the sun and released that unique aroma of ripened grain. However, his years of farming experience told him the grains were likely still slightly above the ideal dryness.
Dante turned toward the faded toolbox at the edge of the field and pulled out a portable grain moisture meter.
The instrument’s casing was worn from years of use, but it remained the most reliable partner on the farm.
He took off his cowboy hat and wiped the sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand, the brim briefly casting a shadow over his face.
At the edge of the wheat field, Dante crouched down and picked a small handful of wheat heads, gently rubbing the surface of the grains with his fingertips.
The rough texture indicated the grains were nearing maturity, but it still needed to be confirmed by the instrument.
He pulled a sample scoop from his pocket, collected a few kernels of wheat, placed them in the instrument’s sample chamber, and pressed the start button.
The device emitted a short beep, and the numbers on the screen began to jump.
Dante squatted there, one arm resting on his knee, eyes locked on the screen, waiting for a crucial answer.
“19.4%.”
He whispered the number, frowning slightly.
That wasn't the ideal moisture content, but it was close.
Normally, recommendations suggested waiting another day or two to allow the moisture to naturally evaporate to a lower level.
But the weather wasn’t on their side, and the threat of a storm left him no choice.
Rain would drastically reduce the grain’s quality.
Dante had to finish the harvest before the heavy rains arrived. Otherwise, he'd have to wait until after the storm and for the moisture levels to drop again.
In summer, thunderstorms and rainstorms come and go without warning, and delays could be even longer.
Fortunately, the farm’s drying facilities could handle such conditions and prevent the grain from molding, even if the moisture level slightly exceeded the ideal range.
He quickly called Lee, explained the situation briefly, and asked him to notify the workers to prepare the harvester and alert the relevant staff.
After hanging up, Dante emptied the instrument’s sample chamber, placed the device back in the toolbox, grabbed a handful of grain, crushed it between his fingertips, and smelled it.
The scent of ripe grain mixed with sunlight and soil brought an inexplicable sense of peace.
The necessary equipment and drying plans were quickly set into motion.
Not long after, Dante and a cowboy arrived with a tractor and gear.
Meanwhile, Lee was preparing an improvised ventilation plan in the barn.
Initially, Dante thought an experienced hand would be operating the harvester. After all, this was an urgent job that had to be completed before sunset.
But Lee insisted on trying it himself, saying it would help him gain experience managing the ranch independently in the future.
He needed to know things like this now that the ranch had expanded its operations.
Lee stood beside the tractor, one hand on the cabin door, eyes scanning the golden waves of wheat, squinting slightly at the shifting light and shadows.
This was his first large-scale harvest operation.
Though he was familiar with the tractor, the complex operation of the harvester made him feel a little tense.
This wasn't just about harvesting wheat—it also required completing three processes: harvesting, threshing, and cleaning all at once.
Lee exhaled slowly and tightened his grip, trying to shake off the slight nervousness.
Not far off, Dante was lazily leaning against an old Ford truck, a foxtail stem between his lips, like a spectator waiting for the show to start.
“Little brother,” Dante called out playfully, “How long are you gonna stand there staring at the sun? Or do you think the wheat’s gonna grow legs and jump into the harvester?”
“Shut up, Dan.” Lee turned and glared at him. “Give me five more minutes, and you’ll see with your own eyes how I tear up this land.”
Dante shrugged and said, “Alright, take your time.”
Lee looked down to check the tractor’s oil gauge, the harvester’s height adjuster, and the reel speed.
Then he raised a hand and patted the side of the harvester, as if to encourage himself—and to remind the old machine “not to fail him.”
He climbed into the driver’s seat, tipped his hat down, and firmly gripped the steering wheel with both hands.
The engine’s roar filled the surroundings instantly—deep and powerful, echoing through the air like thunder and stirring a familiar sensation in his chest.
Lee took a deep breath, pushed the joystick, and the tractor slowly rolled into the wheat field.
The reel began to spin like a skilled hand gently parting the wheat waves and guiding the heads into the cutting platform.
The cutter let out a crisp, crackling sound, slicing through the wheat stalks cleanly and decisively.
The cut wheat heads slid along the conveyor belt into the threshing chamber, where the drum rapidly spun to separate the kernels from the husks.
The threshed grains slipped into the collection bin, while the chaff and straw were evenly spread back into the field from the rear of the machine, becoming natural fertilizer for the next season.
At first, Lee’s operation was a bit clumsy. He turned the wheel too sharply, causing the tractor’s path to veer slightly. The leftover debris on the ground was crooked and ugly.
The cutter’s height wasn’t set correctly, so the remaining wheat stubble was uneven, and occasionally, clusters of missed heads could be seen.
Lee frowned, paused to adjust, started again, and gradually found his rhythm.
He checked the screen and saw all indicators were normal. Then he turned his head to look at the freshly cut land.
The tractor’s tracks drew clear lines across the wheat field like brushstrokes, parting the golden waves in two and revealing the soft brown soil underneath.
In the sunlight, the cut wheat stubble looked like a tidy layer of tiny bristles, and the entire field began to take on a beautifully organized look.
Far off, Dante received a call from Tommy, who said, “Zz… I’m tired of those bikers. When are you going to deal with that problem? I can tell the soldier…”
“Son is on his way. I’ll handle it,” Dante replied calmly as he watched his brother at work.
“Son? Are you fucking kidding me? I’ve never trusted Koreans in my life—they’re the most backstabbing people in the business,” Tommy’s voice was visibly agitated.
Dante, on the other hand, simply ended the call and got into the truck to get a better view of what his brother was doing from another spot.
