“YEOCH!” Hoss Cartwright shouted loudly as he quickly withdrew his hand from around the lid of the cookie jar. “Dadburnit, Hop Sing, what are ya trying to do, cripple me?”

The family cook, Hop Sing, waved the wooden spoon he had used to whack Hoss with in the taller man’s face.

“You wait after dinner like family,” he scolded, matter-of-factly.

“But, Hop Sing, can’t I just have a little cookie?” Hoss all but pleaded.

His eyes were still fixated on the jar as he licked his lips hungrily. Forgetting that the cook was still there, his hand once again reached for the tempting jar.

SMACK!

Once again, Hoss removed his now very sore hand, shaking it as if it would make the pain lessen.

“Dadburn your ornery hide, Hop Sing!” he exclaimed. “I just want one cookie!”

“One cookie lead to ‘nother cookie and that one lead to many more,” Hop Sing replied, angrily. “No cookie for you.”

Hoss pouted a little, but eventually left the kitchen, dejectedly looking over at the jar before heading back into the main room, where Adam was silently reading a book on the settee.

“Hoss, what happened to your hand?” his older brother asked, frowning.

Hoss looked up from where he was examining the said hand and sighed.

“Oh, this?” he asked. “Uh, well…”

Adam raised an eyebrow, waiting for an answer.

“Dadburnit, Adam, Hop Sing hit me when I tried to get a cookie,” came the somewhat angry reply.

It took a second for his brother’s words to sink in and, when they did, Adam started to chuckle.

“It ain’t funny neither!” Hoss declared, cradling his hand. “If he ain’t the most ornery, mule-headed cook I’ve ever seen, then I don’t know what is! He didn’t have to hit my hand twice like he did.”

“T-Twice?” Adam stuttered out, trying to hide his smile behind the pages of his book.

Hoss looked at him in annoyance.

“Yeah, twice, and don’t you tell Little Joe about it. He’ll never let me hear the end of it if he finds out.”

“Find out what?”

The youngest Cartwright brother chose that exact moment to come inside from the kitchen, munching on something as he did. Hoss eyed him, suspiciously.

“What are you eating?” he asked.

“A cookie,” Joe replied, nonchalantly. “Why?”

“What?! You mean Hop Sing gave you a cookie?” he demanded, the pain in his hand now forgotten.

Having no idea what the big deal was, Joe nodded.

“Yeah, I walked through the kitchen and they were lying on the table so he said I could have one,” he replied, a little surprised by Hoss’ reaction. “What’s going on?”

Still sitting on the settee, Adam couldn’t stay silent any longer.

“Our brother here tried to steal a cookie and Hop Sing wasn’t too pleased about it,” he answered, burying his face back into his book before he could see the look of anger on Hoss’ face.

“Adam!” Hoss shouted.

Joe, meanwhile, was having a tough time trying to keep from laughing. His hand was covering his mouth as he swallowed the last bit of the cookie.

“What did he do, Hoss, take you out behind the barn?” he asked, chuckling.

Still glaring at Adam, Hoss’ uninjured hand clenched at his side.

“No, he . . . “ Hoss trailed off.

Joe sat down on the arm of the settee, arms folded across his chest as he waited eagerly for the answer to his question.

“He what, Hoss?”

“He smacked my hand,” the middle brother mumbled under his breath.

At first, Joe wasn’t sure he had heard correctly, but the look on Hoss’ face was enough to convince him he had. The task of keeping his laughter in went out the window as Joe fell back onto the settee, laughing while holding his stomach.

“It ain’t funny, Joe!” Hoss protested against the laughter. “I don’t see why he gave you a cookie, but, when I asked for one, he said no.”

From the kitchen, Hop Sing shouted, “You no ask nicely! Numba three son not ask. I offer!”

Amid the laughter of his brothers, Hoss shook his head and stormed out of the house.

“You don’t think we went too far, do you, Adam?” Joe asked, the smile still on his face.

“Nah, he’ll simmer down eventually,” Adam replied, assuredly. “Besides, he’ll be back for dinner.”

“How can you be so sure?”

Adam raised an eyebrow.

“Have you ever known Hoss to miss a meal?”

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Hoss’ temper had depleted considerably by the time he reached the barn. Leaning against the door looking inside, he observed the animals, nonchalantly. His hand still stung a bit, but he just ignored it, knowing there was no real damage. Standing there, a plan slowly started to form in his mind. A sneaky grin spread across his face and he turned back towards the house, heading straight for the kitchen door. He could hear Hop Sing inside, putting the last finishing touches on dinner. Finally, the cook left the kitchen to set the food on the table.

Seeing his chance, Hoss opened the door, sneaking into the room. His eyes landed on the cookie jar that was sitting on the small table. Looking up to make sure Hop Sing wasn’t coming back just yet, Hoss rubbed his hands together in excitement. Reaching his hand out, he removed the jar’s lid. As he did so, the aroma of the cookies inside wafted into the air around him, filling his nostrils with temptation. Reaching inside, his fingers touched and wrapped around one of the delicious treats, but that’s as far as he got.

SMACK!

So absorbed in his task at retrieving a cookie, Hoss never realized that Hop Sing had come back into the kitchen.

“Hop Sing, if you keep doing that, you better hope you break my hand. Otherwise, I’m gonna take that spoon and break it in two over your head!”

Hop Sing let out a string of sentences in his own language as Hoss dejectedly wandered out into the dining area, where the rest of the family was all waiting.

“Well, it’s about time you joined us,” Ben said. “Sit down, Hoss, so we can all eat.”

His middle son did so without a word, already noticing the smirks Joe and Adam were sending his way. As soon as he sat down, Hop Sing appeared from the kitchen, carrying more food for dinner and sending Hoss a glare.

For the most part, dinner was quiet. Ben would occasionally ask Adam about some business on the ranch, but, other than that, it was silent. Finally, dinner ended and Hop Sing removed the dirty dishes. As the Cartwrights adjourned to the main room, he reentered with the very object that Hoss had been trying to get a hold of all night – the cookie jar!

Going around, Hop Sing handed out cookies to everyone, purposefully skipping over Hoss. As he headed back into the kitchen, Ben frowned.

“I wonder why he didn’t give a cookie to you, Hoss,” he pondered as his other two sons struggled to keep their smiles in check.

“I don’t know, Pa,” Hoss said, avoiding his gaze.

Ben shrugged it off, until he noticed Hoss cradling his hand.

“Hoss?” he questioned.

“Yes, sir?”

“Do you mind telling me what happened to your hand and why it has three oval shaped bruises on it?”