Summary: A tie that binds is broken. Can Hop Sing make it – and the Cartwrights – whole again?
Rating:  G   Words 3,420
Written for the 2022 Bonanza Brand Advent Calendar

Bonanza
~*~*~ Advent Calendar ~*~*~
* Day 16 *

The Broken Cord

Hop Sing halted with an empty tray in his hands to stare at the floor of the Cartwright great room in disbelief.  Strewn across it, like seeds tossed into tilled ground in the spring, were dozens of glass beads of all sizes, shapes and colors.  He gaped at them and then lifted his eyes to the Ponderosa’s massive Christmas tree.  The tree this year – the year of our Lord eighteen-hundred and fifty-two – was a most beautiful one, with its heady scent and countless bauble-laden branches.  Sadly, as with the season, such a tree sometimes brought unwanted visitors.  Narrowing his dark eyes, the Asian man looked at the dangling string to see if there was a telltale sign of nibbling.

There was none.

Puzzled, Ben Cartwright’s housekeeper placed the tray on the low table by the fireplace before returning to the tree.  Once there, he caught the cord in his fingers and examined it more closely.  This particular garland of hand-blown glass beads had once graced a tree far away and contained many memories of Christmases past.  The end was frayed, as if the decades old string had given way to a tug or too strong a touch.  He glanced again at the beads on the ground.  Most had survived, though one or two were broken as if smashed underfoot.

Hop Sing had a very good idea of whose foot.

It was early Christmas morning and he was the only one awake.  The Cartwright tree had been decorated the night before with much joy by all in attendance, which included Deputy Roy and several special guests.  Mistah Ben bid him go to bed with the others and do his cleaning early today, so that he too would know rest and joy.  Hop Sing shook his head.  Little did Mistah Ben understand him, even after so many years in his employ.  Going to bed with a messy house brought him neither joy nor rest.

Only nightmares!

Even so he had risen very early to begin the tasks of the day.  The tray he carried was for the many cups and mugs left scattered across the surface of the fireside table.  If he closed his eyes, he could still see his loved ones sitting there.  Young Mistah Hoss sat on the hearthstones.  Mistah Adam – home at last – occupied his favorite chair.  Number one son was full of laughter and song and told many interesting stories of his time in the East.  Mistah Ben, as was only proper, reigned over all.  It brought him pleasure to watch his employer beam with pride when their guests complimented Mistah Adam and asked many questions of the college graduate, while Little Joe….

The Asian man turned toward the spot the youngest Cartwright had occupied.  Number three son had pulled a small stool up and sat with his back to the table.  He stared at the tree; his young face pensive as one who thinks too much on things he cannot change.

“Mornin’, Hop Sing!’ a cheery voice called, startling him.  “Merry Christmas to you!”

The Asian man turned to find Mistah Ben’s friend coming down the steps.  Mister Roy was dressed, not in clothes meant for a fine Christmas table, but as if he would ride away soon.

“Where you go?” he asked the lawman.  “Christmas breakfast served in two hours!”

“Sorry, Hop Sing,” the lawman said as he stopped at his side.  “I’m here to tell you, there ain’t nothin’ I would like more than sittin’ down to one of your fine breakfasts, but I got work to do!  Robert’s gone to Paloma for the holiday and I gotta get myself back to the settlement.  Too much Christmas cheer can make a man mighty stupid, if you know what I mean?” Mister Roy added with a wink.  “I’ll most likely spend my Christmas moppin’ up the streets, collectin’ ‘refuse’, and puttin’ it behind bars where it cain’t hurt itself or no one else.”  Mistah Ben’s friend took another step and there was a loud ‘crunch!’.  The older man winced and looked down.  Then, he knelt and picked up what remained of one of the scattered glass beads.

“Say, ain’t this….”  Mister Roy cleared his throat.  “Ain’t this one of them fancy glass beads from that string Marie brought with her from N’Orleans?”

Hop Sing nodded.

“What’s it doin’ on the floor?”  The lawman kept an eye out as he crossed over to the great tree.  He fingered the broken cord before turning back to look at him.  “Seems it got broke.  You know what happened?”

The Asian man shook his head.

Though he guessed.

“Mister Roy please to sit at table.  Hop Sing bring coffee and sack of food for long journey through the cold.”

So far they had been ‘lucky’.  The road to the settlement wasn’t clear, but the many feet of snow some had predicted had not fallen.  It was what Mistah Ben called a ‘dry’ year so far.  There was snow on the ground, but it was no more than a foot deep and hardy horses had no trouble breaching it.

“Now, that’s right neighborly of you, Hop Sing.  I appreciate it.”  Mister Roy dropped the end of the string.  “It’s a long road back.”

As he headed to the kitchen, Hop Sing glanced at the clock by the door.  The Cartwrights’ Christmas party had gone on until the wee hours of the morning.  Most likely no one would arise until seven or eight, and it was now no more than four-thirty.  He always put a pot of coffee on first thing after he rose – often before he’d shed his robe and slippers.  Sometimes a ranch hand would knock on his kitchen door.  Even less likely, a wayfarer, though this did happen.  Mistah Ben liked his coffee hot and expected it to be ready when he appeared.  The Asian man nodded to his guest as he passed the table and entered the kitchen.  Once there, he headed for the stove – and then stopped.

Something was not right.

Hop Sing’s kitchen was his home and his domain.  He knew it as well as he knew his hand, his foot; his face.  At first glance all seemed as it should be, but a second glance showed him several cupboard doors ajar, a drawer pulled out, and an empty space on the lower shelf of the large hutch.  The cupboards held food.  The drawer was where he stored linen sacks, such as the one he would get for Mister Roy.  And the empty space?

It held a coffee pot no longer there.

“Somethin’ wrong?” a concerned voice asked.

Hop Sing turned to find Roy Coffee standing in the hall.  He glanced at the lawman and then went to check another drawer.  It was a deep drawer, located near the kitchen door.  In it he kept many things including extra clothes for Mistah Ben’s youngest.  Little Joe spent many hours helping him.  These clothes were old ones of Mistah Adam’s, much-mended, and saved for hard and dirty work.

The heavy homespun wool coat and pair of knitted gloves were missing.

His shoulders sank.

“The young one’s done run away, ain’t he?” Mister Roy asked as he came to his side.

Hop Sing turned, startled.  “How you know that?”

The older man chuckled.  “One thing a lawman’s gotta have is a good pair of eyes for observin’.  Ben was so busy makin’ over Adam and listenin’ to his stories last night, he missed what was happenin’ with Little Joe.  That boy’s used to bein’ the center of attention and, suddenly, he wasn’t.  Seems the little scamp didn’t take it too well.”

“Mistah Joe very happy Mistah Adam home,” he countered – perhaps too quickly.

“Happy and content ain’t always the same things.”  Mister Roy walked to the kitchen door and opened it.  He shivered as the cold wind struck him.  “You think he took off?  Little Joe, I mean?”

The Asian man’s worried gaze moved from the open drawer to the cupboard doors, and then on to the empty spot on the hutch shelf.

“Hop Sing fear it is so.”

The deputy nodded.  Then he put his hands together and rubbed them.  “Well, what are you waitin’ for?  Pack that sack of grub and fill a flagon with some hot coffee and I’ll be on my way.”  The lawman raised a hand.  “No need to bother Ben.  The boy can’t have got far, not in this weather.  I’ll….”

“Hop Sing come along.”

The other man shook his head.  “I’ll travel faster alone.”

“Fast not same as smart,” he responded.  “Mistah Joe come to me.  Maybe not to Mister Roy.  Boy be afraid you put him in cell!”

The lawman considered it.  “Maybe you’re right.  I’ll go get my gear while you get things ready.”  He paused in the hall.  “You wait for me here.  Seems to me it’s best we go out of that there door instead of the front one.”

Seemed best to Hop Sing too.  Mistah Ben have ears like bamboo rat.

Ten minutes later they were on the trail of the missing boy.  Hop Sing went along, but was unsure of the wisdom of their course.  He knew if Mistah Ben found out Little Joe was missing and they did not wake him, his employer would be very very mad.

Maybe fire Hop Sing!

Mister Roy tell him not to worry.  This way they keep number three son from trouble.  Even so, he knew, it be very hard to find boy and get him back before father and others wake.  When he tell this to the lawman, Deputy Roy admit he have another reason.  It his wish to protect Mistah Adam as well.  Other man rightly say number one son feel terrible if he find out why little brother run away.  Hop Sing sighed.  He could see trouble ahead for this pair, but hoped time and togetherness would heal the wounds created by Mistah Adam’s untimely departure.

Fortunate for them, unhappy boy not take horse.  When they check stable all animals there.  Not so fortunate for boy, though, as overnight a heavy snow had begun to fall.  Already the drifts were knee-deep and the day grown very cold.

“How old’s Little Joe now?” Mister Roy asked as they broke through another white swell, following a set of quickly disappearing boot prints.

“Turn ten in October,” he said.  “Very little boy.”

“He may be a very little boy, but he’s capable of very big trouble.”  Mister Roy let out a sigh.  “I love that young’un, but…”

“Little Joe hurt badly,” Hop Sing said.

The lawman glanced at him.  “Now, don’t you go borrowin’ trouble.  We don’t know that yet.”

Hop Sing shook his head as he ducked under a tree branch laden with ice crystals that sparked in the rising light.  “Not mean now.  Mean when Missy Cartwright die.”

“Oh.”  The other man nodded.  “Such a shame.  Marie was awful young.”

“So was Mistah Little Joe.  Too young to lose Ah Ma.  Boy hurt by death, deep as snow fall.  Not want to hurt father more, so say very little.  Keep all pain inside.”

“You know, Hop Sing.  Some of us are just like that.”  Mister Roy stepped over a fallen log and waited for him to do the same.  “When the missus died, well, I got quieter – and louder, if you know what I mean.”

“Boy quieter and louder too.  Think much, then do much wrong to get father to come.  Then he know father there.”  Hop Sing shook his head.  “Father forget to be ‘there’ for Little Joe last night.”

“So what do you think happened to the string of glass beads?”

The Asian man paused to brush snow from his exposed hair.  He had two thoughts.  Mistah Joe was unable to sleep and came to the great room to look at the tree.  He reached for the string of glass beads that belonged to his Ah Ma, and they broke.  That or the boy’s anger, much roused by what had occurred, caused him to break the string by accident or on purpose.

This last one was most likely.

Mister Roy nodded.  “Yeah, me too.  That boy’s got himself a will and a temper.  Here’s hopin’ Ben can tame both.”

Hop Sing not want Little Joe tamed, just made whole.

Unexpectedly, the lawman’s hand shot out.  Deputy Roy put a finger to his lips as he nodded toward a clump of bent and broken trees.  A small light shone against the falling snow that swirled about the twisted branches, even as a steady breeze carried words muttered between chattering lips to their half-frozen ears.

“You want I should get him?” Mister Roy asked.

“No.  Hop Sing go.  Boy not fear him,” he responded and started forward.

The lawman caught his arm and held him back.  Mister Roy reached into his pocket and drew something out.  In his hand were three small glass beads.

“Thought you might need these,” he said with a wink.  “Now, you best get goin’ before that skinny little scamp freezes!”

Little Joe sat in the middle of the circle of fallen trees.  The boy had kindled a fire, but it smoked much and gave no heat, so it did him no good.  Hop Sing noted with dismay – and a bit of ire – the trailing ends of Mistah Adam’s old nightshirt where it showed beneath the boy’s linsey-woolsey work coat.  Upon his bare feet Little Joe had placed a pair of Mistah Ben’s muddy boots.  On his small hands were the missing gloves.  Number three son shivered with the cold.

And with misery.

“What boy do out here?” the Asian man said sharply as he stepped into the scanty ring of light.  “He catch death in cold and snow!”

“What Hop Sing do out here?” Little Joe shot back, startled.  “You oughta be home cooking.  I’m sure Pa’s got a special breakfast planned since Adam’s home.”  The boy sniffed and stifled a sneeze as he drew the woolen coat closer about his throat.  “Probably ordered Swiss eggs or somethin’, since plain old eggs wouldn’t be good enough for Mister fancy-pants with his Eastern ways!”

“Show what Little Joe know,” he replied as he drew a step closer.  “Hop Sing make bread steaks with cinnamon and pear butter for Christmas breakfast.  Also make ham and macaroni since it number three son’s favorite.”

The weary boy glanced at him, hunger in his eyes, before turning back to the fire.  “Hoss will eat them,” he said with another shrug.

Hop Sing fingered the trio of beads in his pocket and thought furiously.  He knew this boy.  If Little Joe make up his mind to go, he would run fast and hide very well.

Then boy really catch death.

“What Little Joe do?  Where he go?” he asked.

“Anywhere but here.  I’m just in the way now that Adam’s back.  Pa don’t…Pa doesn’t need me anymore.”  The boy hung his head.  “I’m too little to do much of anything anyway.”

The Asian man’s hand closed on the beads.  “Little Joe wrong,” he said.

Number three son looked at him again – this time with fire in his eyes.  “Wrong?  You just tell me how I’m wrong!”

“Okay if Hop Sing come and sit on tree beside boy so he can?”

Little Joe’s lips twisted, but he nodded.

The Asian man brushed aside snow before settling on the fallen trunk the boy had chosen as a seat.  “There is one most important thing Mistah Joe can do that Mistah Adam cannot.”

The boy snorted.  “You mean there’s somethin’ old high-and-mighty can’t do?  You better tell that to the people at the Deseret News.  That way Pa can read about it.”

Hop Sing drew the trio of beads out of his pocket and held them out.  “Mistah Adam cannot bring Missy Marie back to life.”

The Asian man didn’t know what he’d expected, but it was not the boy’s skin going white as the snow.  Number three son’s hand trembled as he reached out to touch the glass beads.

“I….”  Little Joe sniffed.  Tears sparkled in his eyes.  “I…didn’t mean to.  I was just….”  He swallowed hard.  “I was so angry.  It was like Pa and Hoss and, well, just about everybody else couldn’t see anything but Adam!”  His jaw clenched as the tears ran down his rosy cheeks.  “It was like it didn’t even matter to Pa that I was there!”

This was dangerous territory.  Hop Sing remember what his father tell him when young.

Always wise to choose wise words before speaking.

“Boy leave house and risk life to make sure he matter to father?”

Little Joe withdrew his hand.  He caught the edge of his woolen coat, drew the thick cloth nearly over his head, and seemed to shrink.

“Maybe.”

This was a pattern they had all observed.  When Mistah Ben got too busy or was gone too long, the little boy would disappear or act up.  It not matter if boy got whipped for what he did.

Whipping meant father notice him.

They sat in silence for some time before Little Joe emerged from his cloth cocoon to look at him.  “What did you mean when you said,  ‘Mister Adam cannot bring Missy Marie back to life’?”

Hop Sing glanced at his hand.  The rising sun struck the small hand-blown beads it cradled.  The colored glass sparked with fire, just like Missy Marie had.

Just as her son did.

“Boy see images of his and his brothers’ mothers on Mistah Ben’s desk?”

“Sure, I do.  Pa never moves them.”

“Mistah Ben love each of his wives, Missy Elizabeth, Missy Ingrid, and Missy Marie, very much.”

“I know that.”

“Then how boy not know that son of each missy is important?  How he not know when father look at Little Joe, Mistah Ben see Missy Marie?   That Little Joe make Missy Marie live for father?”

Number three son stared at him long and hard and then let out heartfelt sigh as he reached for the beads.  “I broke the garland.  Pa will be so sad.”

Hop Sing touched the boy’s face.  “Boy go away, he break not only beads, but father’s heart.”

They managed to return before the rest of the family rose, though it was close.  No sooner had Hop Sing seen Little Joe to his room than Mistah Adam appeared in the hall, fully dressed, and headed for the barn.  He meant to surprise his younger brothers by doing their morning chores.  They exchanged a few words and then Mistah Ben’s oldest was gone, merrily singing a tune as he descended the stairs.

Earlier, as he tucked Little Joe into his bed, the Asian man had promised to say nothing about what had occurred.  Roy Coffee, who was waiting at the edge of the clearing, lent his heavy winter coat to the boy for the long walk back to the Ponderosa.  It did no good.  All the way home his employer’s number three son sniffled and sneezed.  Once in the kitchen, Hop Sing stripped the tired boy of his wet clothes and placed a plaster upon his chest before pulling a clean, dry night shirt over his curly head.

When Mistah Ben came down for breakfast, he would tell him the boy had awakened during the night and was not feeling well, and suggest he let him sleep.

Deputy Roy did not depart until all of this was done.  Before he left, the lawman asked if Hop Sing believed foolish boy would be ‘okay’.

He told him ‘yes’.

He lied.

There was one more most important thing to do before the boy would be ‘okay’.

Hop Sing went to his room to fetch his sewing basket.  He carried it to the great room and placed it on the table, and then crawled on hands and knees, seeking each and every one of Missy Marie’s precious glass beads.  When this was done, he reverently restrung them using a fine, thick cord that would not break.  Last of all – with a whispered prayer – he carefully knotted each end three times.

Three times, for in China the number three was lucky.

Three times for the Father, Son, and Holy Ghost, as it was Jesus’ birth they honored.

Three times.

Because he loved Mistah Ben’s number three son most of all.

Character chosen: Hop Sing

Item given: a string of glass beads

Character given: Roy Coffee

Link to the 2022 Bonanza Brand Advent Calendar – Day 17 – Be a Friend by Sierras