Summary: Ben’s thinking again and Hop Sing’s doing the washing. Just what could go wrong?
Rating:  G   Words:  1,365

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Wash Day

It was a routine we went through with alarming regularity; at least once every couple of months, if my memory serves me correctly, and the ritual we followed had been second nature to us ever since Hop Sing entered our lives. Something would upset him -often something inadvertently done by one of the boys – and then it would be incumbent upon the rest of us to smooth his ruffled feathers, prevent him from leaving and reassure him that he was a much valued – and loved – honorary member of the Cartwright family.

All had been quiet for a few weeks now and I guess I should have been expecting it; it was about time for another emotional outburst. Finally, it came today – wash day!

The rot started some time after breakfast. The boys had been gone little more than an hour and the meal things had been cleared up. From where I sat at my desk, I watched Hop Sing passing to and fro with armfuls of dirty washing and I knew that he would be heating up the water. That was when Joe reappeared, covered from head to foot in mud having slipped into the blocked gully he and Hoss were supposed to be clearing out. He couldn’t work comfortably, cold and wet as he was and, before I realised what he was about, he had taken a lot of hot water to clean up before depositing his mud-caked clothing in the kitchen and donning some fresh gear.

He was gone and I remained to handle the first tirade. I could only hazard a guess at what Hop Sing was saying in a rapid stream of Cantonese, but his flashing eyes and clenched fists gesticulating wildly left me in no doubt as to how he was feeling.

When he eventually returned to the kitchen, I breathed a sigh of relief and got back to the ledgers. Peace reigned for another couple of hours and then a high-pitched yell shattered the silence. Fearing that he had done himself a terrible injury somehow, I went rushing out the back only to find him standing in the midst of wet clothing and bedding strewn across the ground. The line had broken!

I took the time to help him gather it all up and carried it back into the kitchen. It was all soaking again as we fastened a new line securely. He was muttering very loudly to himself when I made a discreet exit and studied the figures again.

The washing was done a second time and out on the line, Hop Sing had calmed down enough to bring me some coffee and he was supposedly baking when I heard him give another angry yell. Sighing, I set down my pen and reluctantly rose to find out what the matter was this time. A recalcitrant mule had arrived on the scene and was chomping happily on Hop Sing’s vegetables. When the furious man gave chase, the mule headed from the vegetable garden straight into the washing area and I watched in horror as the stupid animal got entangled with a billowing sheet, panicked, broke into a run and brought the whole lot down again. I was just happy that I was not the ranch hand who had forgotten to latch the gate properly where the mules were usually kept when they were not working.

It took a long time to appease Hop Sing as we sorted through the clothing, got the water on to boil once more and re-hung the line but he was busy scrubbing at dirt marks when I started in on the paperwork for a timber contract. My stomach was rumbling and it was way past lunchtime but I dare not say anything to Hop Sing. To tell the truth, I was so nervous about his present mood that I did not even dare venture into the kitchen to prepare something to eat.

He must have realised how the day was pressing on for he appeared in front of me and banged down a plate of rough-cut sandwiches on the desk. I smiled what I hoped was a smile of encouragement but knew, even as he ‘harrumphed’ noisily and strode away, that my best effort had been weak, unconvincing and lop-sided.

Reluctantly I have to admit that I had become so engrossed with catching up on some business letters that I did not notice the darkening sky and the first drops of rain. I heard about it soon enough though when Hop Sing stood, dripping, in front of me and launched into his fourth tirade of the day as he dumped the sodden clothing on the wooden floor.

The rain stopped as quickly as it had begun but the damage had been done, at least as far as Hop Sing was concerned. He had dried off and packed his bags by the time my sons came in through the door. Trying to calm my cook, I cast frantic and beseeching eyes in the boys’ direction and, give them their due, they went into action without question, used as they were to their roles in this often repeated drama.

Joe sprinted across to the barn to barricade entry from Hop Sing should he think of going in there to borrow a mount. Hoss headed off out the yard to ward him off if he got the notion that he would walk all the way to Virginia City. It would also be Hoss’ responsibility to charm Hop Sing. No one could cook like him. What was Hoss going to do without his favourite dishes being prepared by his favourite person? Life would cease to have meaning for him – my thoughts, not Hoss’ words, but I expected his mind to run along those lines.

It was up to me to keep on apologising and express regret. He had been with us so long, what on earth was I going to do without him? He ran the house single-handed while we were busy doing other things and I depended on him. How would I cope? What would the boys do?

That left Adam and his ‘reverse psychology’ as he put it. Out of habit, he took Hop Sing’s bag and carried it for him as they walked away from the ranch house and I watched them go. They made an odd pair as Adam’s usual long strides were shortened to keep pace with the man trotting by his side. I could guess at how some of the conversation would go. As Hop Sing ranted, Adam would nod in silent and sympathetic agreement before commiserating with him at the treatment he had received. Adam quite understood how Hop Sing was feeling and why it was the parting of the ways between him and the family.

They would not be out of sight for long and did not often get as far as Hoss before they would reappear in the yard, Adam still carrying the bag but the cook would be chattering animatedly and grinning from ear to ear.

I was not wrong on this occasion. It was barely ten minutes later when the two came back. As Adam held the door open and allowed the older man to go through, Hop Sing cast me a withering look and reminded me that I was very lucky to have Number One son, him being so wise and all. Adam merely shrugged as I raised a questioning eyebrow in his direction and I would never know what had passed between them.

Adam and I helped Hop Sing with the washing and the clean load was ready to hang out to dry the following morning. Joe and Hoss prepared a cold supper and we eventually sat down to a late but satisfying meal. As we had our coffee and I sipped at a welcome brandy, the sound of Hop Sing singing to himself as he washed the dishes drifted out to us.

At last, all was peace and harmony – until the next time.