SrCuervo
patreon
198
🕑 Added 2025-05-21 09:35:18 +0000 UTCWind in the Smoke
Chapter 198 – The Beavers
Dante stood at the edge of the beavers' logging camp, staring at the land that had been visited before him. There was a cabin here, and it was where he usually came to sort out his own problems.
Yes, there were always problems...
Under the dim light of the moon that night, the outline of the terrain was still unclear, but under the sunlight, the scene was perfectly visible.
The trees had been gnawed down to stumps by the beavers. Some were left with only bare trunks, and others had fallen to the ground, with stumps scattered everywhere.
Despite the devastation, the land was full of vitality, with soft black soil mixed with humus.
Dante guided Night Fury and slowly approached, his eyes carefully scanning every inch of ground beneath his feet.
He knew from experience that beaver burrows were often hidden under seemingly solid ground and that the holes were not only deep but also cleverly concealed.
Dante picked up a wooden stick and carefully probed the ground ahead of him. He continued forward after confirming it was safe.
Once he stopped, he tied the reins to a broken tree stump, patted Night Fury’s neck, and whispered, “Stay here and don’t run.”
Then Dante began clearing the path blocked by branches. He started with the fallen trees and the stumps, which were the most troublesome. Since they were rotten, they weren’t too hard to handle.
The beavers’ gnawing technique was quite neat, and the cut surface of the tree trunks was smooth, like a piece carefully carved by a carpenter.
Dante swung his axe and struck with all his strength.
Wood chips flew, and the axe sank deep into the tree roots with several precise chops, splitting the thick trunk in two. He moved the broken trunk to the sides and continued forward until he was tired.
After dealing with the thick wood, he began clearing the smaller branches, which was relatively easy.
The most annoying part was the buildup of twigs and debris on the ground.
Dante returned to the cabin and grabbed a rake. He scraped the leaves and surface debris into piles. Several low-lying areas were full of fine wood chips and rotten branches, which he removed with a shovel, revealing the black, moist, fertile soil underneath.
The cleanup wasn’t without its challenges.
Dante found several obvious depressions in the loose soil—clearly beaver nests.
He stopped using his tools, crouched down to observe closely, and used a long wooden stick to probe the depth. Sure enough, he found a hidden tunnel.
You can't leave this kind of entry hole in the orchard, or the beavers will just dig it again later.
Dante shook his head and smiled, then used dead branches and nearby soil to temporarily fill the hole. At the same time, he memorized the location of these areas and planned to focus on them later.
By noon, the central area of the logging camp had become spacious and flat.
The sun shone on the freshly cleared ground, and the damp earth glistened with an oily sheen.
Some sparrows perched on the wooden stakes, chirping as if inspecting the results of his work.
Dante stood up, put his hands on his waist, looked around at the new land in front of him, and a satisfied smile appeared at the corner of his mouth. “Finally looks presentable.”
By midday, he took Night Fury back to the stable and let him walk freely with the calves. For a quick lunch, he went straight to the river and had a simple barbecue while thinking about the crops he would plant next.
Among the seeds he took from the storage that morning, those with good drainage included carrots, beets, kale, and corn—all good options.
While watching TV at noon, he was drawn in by an ad for a high-end Japanese restaurant.
The image clearly showed the skilled techniques of the sushi chef, sparking his interest in growing wasabi.
The riverside environment is very suitable for wasabi cultivation, and its market price is also high.
The only thing to keep in mind is to avoid extreme climates and direct sunlight.
Montana has intense sun, low winter temperatures, and large temperature differences between day and night in spring—conditions unsuitable for growing wasabi.
But just as he was about to continue, Cocodrilo approached with a few men and asked, “Have you heard of the Clarks, Boss?”
Dante didn’t stand up. He looked at the river and asked, “Should I have?”
“They’re not a family... They’re a damn institution. It’s said that London trembles when Alex Clark makes a move.”
“Alex, the matriarch… Cold as steel and twice as sharp. She doesn’t need a weapon. She’s got politicians, bankers, cops. If she smiles, someone disappears that night. If she stays silent, it’s because the verdict has already been passed—that’s what they say about her.”
Cocodrilo paused to make sure Dante was listening.
“She has a son. Trent. A powerful idiot, the typical spoiled brat who thinks he can kill whoever he wants and get away with it. We’re sure that kid is going to make a mistake sooner or later.”
“There are others. Vicky Clark, her daughter, doesn’t talk much... but she moves millions just by opening her laptop. Launders money, sinks companies, buys loyalties. She’s the clean face of a dirty empire. And they say there’s a cousin… Patrick. Ex-military. Security, weapons, elimination. No one’s seen him twice and lived to tell the tale.”
“If you’re planning to go after the Clarks, boss, you’d better do it like you do everything else—fast, lethal... and without leaving a trace. Because if even one of them survives… the rest won’t rest until they see SAMCRO suffer.”
“Whoever wrote that report must be some kind of novelist—look into that... For God’s sake, we’re SAMCRO. Taking out a few criminals is fine, as long as they’re not innocent,” Dante said calmly.
The CIA had given them a mission—to stop any attempt by the Clarks to gain a foothold in the United States. Maybe they didn’t want to get directly involved in whatever business those people were into.
But for Dante, that was fine. Once the Clarks were out of the way, he could even expand his own influence further.
