A group of girls finally arrived, looking quite fresh and appealing. They say that at eighteen, there's no ugly person, which does make some sense.
William's home cuisine was mostly French, without any extravagant utensils but still very delicately prepared.
This group is surely tired of the sweet and sour Hawaiian dishes by now and probably needs some high-calorie food.
Young people's gatherings weren't that formal. As long as they're comfortable, it's good enough. Some girls were still a bit reserved, but the others started drinking games already.
After dinner, those who liked games continued playing, and those who liked card games played cards.
Though it was Texas Hold'em, they didn't gamble too big; just played for fun, so no big wins or losses.
This group had just returned from Hawaii. Young as they were, they still got tired and headed to their rooms in twos and threes before long. Whether they continued working hard was uncertain, but probably so -- tonight's high-calorie meal truly powered them like a munitions factory.
...
William White also planned to sleep early, having a horseback ride planned for the morning. His skills were average, possibly not even matching some of the robust girls. To avoid embarrassing himself, he needed to conserve his energy.
Speaking of this wealthy man, he was rather unfortunate. Everyone else had their pairs, leaving him to sleep alone.
"Where's my main character aura, darn it? Aren't they supposed to fall into my arms? Then I could activate my Casanova mode." William White fell asleep with such thoughts, feeling restless from all the protein.
"Man, when will these lousy single days end?" he lamented.
He could easily find a girlfriend, but dreaming of a wild spree wasn't wise. Even if he wasn't a big shot, he was at least a successful man. Being a little flirtatious was fine, but sleaziness was unacceptable.
Choosing a girlfriend couldn't be done carelessly. If one got clingy, it would be a hassle. Especially the school girls -- they hadn't faced the real world yet and were downright innocent. Easy to approach, but with many complications afterward.
...
Texans aren't as fussy as Brits when it comes to horseback riding. Although a suit might be inappropriate, a jacket or denim is just fine.
Brits were much more particular, with different outfits for riding and hunting, claiming it as a gentlemanly etiquette.
William's ancestors used to be like that too, but eventually blended into the local culture, keeping some traditions but not being overly particular.
"Jason, wanna try that bull?" Seeing him all decked in cowboy attire, William White couldn't help but laugh.
"No, boss. The little one is okay, but not Bill."
Texas farms are known for their bulls, and it's how they build a farm's brand. A famous farm must have good bulls and racehorses.
Though the racehorses at White Farm weren't as good as Hunter's, their bulls were impressive. This bull named Bill was a competition bull.
Every year's bull-riding competition not only brought cowboys honor and bucks but also business to farms with good bulls.
This sport was for the daring. His group of friends definitely couldn't hack it, no kidding. Injuries were very possible.
"Get lost, that's a cow. Are you sure that's what you want?" William White teased, and the group burst into laughter.
White Farm hadn't been this lively in ages. The cowboys were happy too. Overall, Texans were pretty cheerful and hospitable.
"Boss, how come it feels like your farm keeps growing?" Jason tried to change the topic, not wanting to be a joke.
"Yes, this year is tough. Even our farm is losing money. Small farms must have it really bad." William White didn't explain further, but everyone understood -- White Farm's expansion meant smaller farms went out of business.
The topic didn't last, as they were there for fun. Economic talk was a drag -- everything was down the drain except for darn gold and silver.
Playing with lassoing calves was quite fun since the speed wasn't too fast, so the falls probably weren't too bad.
Couldn't quite grasp why cowboy tasks that took a minute took them half an hour and still failed. The calves were about to doze off.
...
After lunch, the farm welcomed another group of guests. Bored George Bush Jr. came by for a chat.
"George, how's it going lately?" William White asked, knowing Bush Jr. had been busy and aiming to tease him.
"Ugh, I'm exhausted, haven't stopped since Thanksgiving." Little Bush responded with a face full of dissatisfaction. Not even his dad was campaigning, yet he was busier than a dog.
Bush Jr. didn't come alone; he brought along a group of friends. Nowadays, William White was more influential than he was, and these second-generation kids didn't mind making his acquaintance.
Being a bestselling author wasn't just talk; it gained him a lot of respect. Even though the farm was filled with cowboys, they respected intelligent people. To them, being able to write a book was impressive, and if many people liked it, that definitely deserved everyone's respect.
"Come on, George. I'll take you to the guest room first. You missed lunch, so let's have a Texas-style afternoon tea." William White rode ahead.
"Texas-style afternoon tea? What's that? I'm starving." Bush Jr. didn't hesitate to ask, looking puzzled.
"Haha, it's just an early dinner in the afternoon." William White replied playfully, winking.
"Oh boy, alright, I'm sure it was you who made those two movies. Since when did you become so funny?"
"Ah, life's hard. How else could I afford my farm without some humor?"
The group laughed and rushed towards the farm. Though not very fast, they still kicked up clouds of dust.
With a hundred warhorses like this, William White found it hard to imagine what ancient wars looked like. The sight of thousands of horses galloping must have been something.
...
Fools enjoyed being with fools, and the White farm was a mess. It became a den for these young troublemakers, and chaos was a given.
Bush Jr. seemed to be paving the way this time. American elections, when you get down to it, were money games. Having money doesn't guarantee a win, but without it, you're sure to lose.
As the election campaign intensified, everyone's pockets were empty. New funds were needed, and William White was undoubtedly a good target, given his apparent success in earning money at a frantic pace.
Knowing that the Elephant would win, it was necessary to show support. He was no naive teenager; there was no need for excessive individuality. The Elephant's policies clearly favored capitalists, deserving positive responses.
For William White, a little high-profile behavior was alright; this was the usual reaction for newly rich people.
...
Regarding his third movie, no one dared underestimate anymore. It was better to space out releases to avoid hurting their own wallets.
The theater owners' attitude was clear -- they wouldn't trouble their cash cow. With Home Alone, theater owners were relieved. A single movie couldn't turn the slumping film market around, but it brought them some comfort.
Their revenue didn't just come from ticket sales. Audiences had other expenditures there, especially with movies like Home Alone that families or young couples typically watched.
These groups had great purchasing power, with some cinemas even needing to add more popcorn machines. What excited them even more was that the movie had a sequel, allowing them to make money all over again.
One success could be considered luck; two meant no denying it. Any dismissive comments would be ridiculed -- no one had continuous good luck in this world.
*****
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