Summary: A shadowed room, thick with the scent of incense, reverberates with the whispers of the Ancestors. What do they seek, and can anyone defy their mystic call? For He Xing—known to the white man as Hop Sing—questions crowd the silence, yet only one answer emerges, undeniable and unyielding.  Xuè hǎi xuè chóu.  Blood revenge.

Rating: T+
Word Count: 55,685

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The Fragrance of Violets

 

Prologue

Many years had passed since he occupied this place.  A telegram delivered to Mistah Ben’s beautiful house had brought him here, to Chinatown in Lake’s Crossing.  He came even though he had no wish to do so, for not to come would have meant to dishonor his jiātíng.

His family.

Hop Sing closed his bleary eyes to rest them. The place he inhabited was darkly lit; colorful red and blue paper lanterns emblazoned with golden characters masked waxy pillars of light within.  The air was thick with their smoke as well as the heady scent of exotic spices.  He sat on the floor in a circle of men.  Around them was another circle; this one of women.  Clothed in traditional garb, the wives, mothers and daughters of the Hé clan chanted prayers seeking the intercession of the ancestors.

The eldest of the Hop family sat opposite him.  His honorable father Hop Ling was an old man, but Hé Zhìming was older still.  The old man’s mind was sharp and his black eyes, keen and knowing.  Each contained the knowledge of all that had gone before.  An ancient parchment, bound with ribbon, lay unfurled on the patterned carpet before him, alive with azure and crimson dragons; its contents penned by many hands.  Upon Zhiming’s death the timeworn scroll would pass to Hop Ling and, in time, to him as eldest son of the eldest son.  Then, the honor and most heavy burden of embracing the ancestors’ immense wisdom would be his.

He did not want it.

Even though honor was as necessary to him as breathing.

‘A family’s honor is its most valuable treasure. 

‘A family without honor is like a tree without roots. 

‘A man’s honor reflects the honor of his family.

‘In the eyes of the world, a family’s honor is its greatest legacy.’

Hop Sing sighed.

At times it was a family’s only legacy.

“Something troubles you, my son?” Hop Ling asked, his aged voice pitched low so as to disturb no others.

The younger man indicated the circle of which they were a part.  “What right have we to come together for such a purpose?”

Infinite sadness was expressed in a sigh.  “The only right there is.  We do so to preserve our family’s honor.”

“But at what cost?”

“Honor is a steep island without a shore,” a rasping voice remarked, entering the conversation.  “One cannot return once one is outside.”

Hop Sing steeled himself before turning to face the eldest of the Hé.  “Honorable Zhìming.  May this one speak what is on his heart?”

The elder nodded.

“Is forgiveness not the fragrance the violet sheds on the heel of the one who has crushed it?”

“My son…,” Hop Ling warned.

Zhìming raised a wrinkled hand; his words – like that hand – were indisputable.  “While it is true that forgiveness is the key to happiness and inner peace, my son Xing, one cannot forgive the dead.  This is wisdom.”

The elder spoke a few words to the crowd before – with deepest reverence – he unrolled the parchment that contained the jiāpǔ of their family and began to read aloud; his most venerable eyes moving from right to left as they traced the lives of each and every member of the Hé clan.

Hop Sing listened; his heart at war with his head.  These words were more than a litany of the names of the dead.  They were magic that wove a spell and called the ancestors to this place.  He could feel them; they clustered around him and whispered in his ear, urging him to choose the path of honor.  The elder Hé paused as he came to the end of the scroll and the names became those of the living.  Zhìming articulated the last few clearly, designating Hop Ling and his many sons.

All but one.  The last name was left unspoken.

This was what Hop Ling meant by saving the honor of their family.  This was what he must achieve.

Xuè de fùchóu.

Revenge of the Blood.

 

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Chapter One

 

It wasn’t his fault.

Well, not really.

It wasn’t that he tried to get into trouble.  Actually, it was just the opposite.  He did his darnedest to stay out of trouble, but somehow he always managed to slip or trip and just plain plunge into it anyway.

Like now.

Handsome, devil-may-care, and – at times – just plain naïve sixteen year-old Joseph Francis Cartwright knew he was in trouble.  First of all he’d defied his pa to come to the settlement alone.  The second notch in the gun-handle was that the girl he’d come here to court wasn’t exactly the type you’d take to the church social.  The third – and this was the deepest cut – was the fact that the saloon girl hadn’t let him know she was married…until tonight when her husband burst into the Soap and tried to mop the floor with him!

It was a good thing he was fast.

Joe swallowed over the catch in his throat as the circle of thick-necked brutes clad in coal dust tightened around him.

Unfortunately, not quite fast enough.

The teenager took a step back.  A few choice words his proper pa would definitely not have approved of crossed his full lips when he felt the heel of his boot make contact with the wooden fence that marked the end of the poorly lit alley.  He’d been hot-footing it back to Cochise when one of the gang caught sight of him.  That brought the whole lot – Joe wasn’t sure how many there were, he’d lost count at eight – down on him.  With mounting terror he’d zipped to the right when he should have zagged to the left and ended up here.

It was hard for a man to think clearly when someone was shouting for a rope!

Miners sure enough had no sense of humor.

He’d seen the foul-mouthed rough and tumble crew before frequenting the saloon.  The hugest one – who would, of course, turn out to be Tabby’s husband! – was named Knox, which was kind of appropriate since he was big and stupid as an ox.  The others were always hanging around him, so he guessed they worked together.  The miner’s clothes were thick with coal dust, their faces blackened, and they smelled sulfurous as gunpowder.  Now that he thought about it, that was one of the things Tabby kept saying over and over – how she liked the fact that he smelled clean and sweet, like soap and bay rum.

It was a sure bet ol’ Knox wouldn’t know a bar of soap from his backside!

How a pretty little filly like Tabitha Katherine Tryon ever hooked up with a hulk like Knox Knowles he’d never guess.  Tabby was no bigger than a minute.  He thought she might be twenty or twenty-one, though she’d never said and he’d decided it was best not to ask.  The dance-hall girl wore her dark-amber hair piled high on her head.  Her blue eyes were clear and bright as the waters of Bigler Lake; her lips plump and pink as the blush on a peach.  Being what she was and doing what she…did…Tabby had laced her corset tightly and pulled her waist in until a man could ring it with two hands and – hoo-doggy! – was there plenty above it to fill them!

Not that he’d ever….

Well…you know.

But he’d thought about it plenty.

He’d met Tabby a while back on a late September day when Adam and Hoss’ thirst had outweighed their better judgment and they’d agreed to take him into the saloon with them.  He’d been fifteen at the time.  Before they walked through the batwing doors, his brother swore him to secrecy.

Like he was gonna tell their Pa!

Anyhow, after making him swear he wouldn’t stand up, walk around or even breathe, his brothers left him sitting alone at a table in a dark corner while they went to talk with their friends.  Twenty minutes later he was still sitting there – fuming, mind you – when a vision of heaven visited him bringing along a sarsaparilla and a smile.  At the time he couldn’t understand why Hoss and Adam got so hot when they saw him talking to Tabby.  He told himself it was because they were jealous.

Joe shrank back as the miners’ shadows overtook him.

Now he knew it was because they wanted to keep him alive.

Tabby had bold-faced lied to him for going on six months now.  He’d met her in September, snuck out and sparked with her a couple of times through the winter when the way to town was clear and fallen head-for-heels in love with the bloom of spring.  He was sure she was the ‘one’.  Then again, he’d been sure of that a couple of times before and found out the word ‘sure’ had what brother Adam liked to call ‘multiple definitions’.  He’d been wrong then.

But not near as wrong as now.

Joe pressed his back into the rough fence as the mob of miners parted and Knox Knowles stepped forward with all of the righteous indignation of Moses cleaving the Red Sea.  He’d considered trying to explain, but in the end decided telling a man his wife was really good at leading other men on was probably not the smartest thing to do.

Not if he wanted to live.

**********

The shadow was supple; it’s owner lean and lithe and sure as a cat on the prowl.  The man made no noise as he merged into one with the gloom lining the noisome alley behind the saloon.  The shingle that swung in the chill May wind before its ramshackle exterior – listing to the port and starboard like a schooner in a Nor’easter – did not yet bear the establishment’s chosen name.  In time it would become known as ‘The Bucket of Blood’.  The shadow agreed with the choice.  Since he had come to the white man’s settlement he had witnessed three brawls, each ending in slaughter.

If he did not choose to intervene, it would soon be four.

A pack of vultures with darkened faces surrounded a baak nan hai bent on his destruction.  He had been in the saloon and watched as this young one play with fire.  It did not take the wisdom of an elder to know that trouble was soon to come.  Once…long ago…he also had been a pretty boy with wide eyes cloaked by lush obsidian lashes; a boy who knew well how to use them as an invitation to pleasure.

As with all things, in time his pleasure turned to pain and robbed him of all he had – family, friends, country; home.  He became a shadow; a form without substance.

He was Jiangshi.

A cry of fear masked as defiance roused the Asian man from his reverie and returned his attention to the task at hand.  The white boy’s strength was no match for his enemies. They were voracious as wolves.  No.  Such a thought did brother wolf a dishonor.  A wolf defended.  It killed only to live.

These men sought death for death alone.

They would prevail.

Unless the Jiangshi chose to intervene.

**********

It was like trying to reason with a rain-soaked mountain hell-bent on an avalanche.

Joe cleared his throat and tried again.

“Look, I’m sorry…Mr. Knowles.  I swear I didn’t know Tabby…er…Tabitha was married.  I sure wouldn’t have….”  Joe swallowed hard as he felt the fence’s splintery boards press through the sheer cloth of his Sunday shirt.  “I mean, if she’d told me….”

“Are you insinuatin’ my wife lied about her bein’ married!?”

It took Joe a moment to get past the fact that the mountain knew one of Adam’s ten dollar words.

“We didn’t do a lot of talking,” he replied – and instantly regretted it.

“If you wasn’t talkin’,” the mountain snarled, “then what the Hell was you doin’?”

Playing cards.  Singing a tune.  Knitting.

Anything but kissing!

“Uh, well….” Joe used a trembling finger to pull at the collar of his dress shirt.  How was it he sweating when it was cold enough to freeze the toes off a well-digger?  “Er…Tabby tells a good story?”

“I bet she does.”  The mountain rose before him, blocking the meager light of the May moon.  “I bet she told you some sob story about how bad her man treats her and how she needs the kind of man who understands a woman like her – a cheap, no-good, two-timin’ whore!”

Considering the circumstances it was kind of hard to argue with that.

Joe smiled weakly.  “Actually, she told me she was…lonely?”

“Lonely, eh?”  Knox caught hold of his collar and hauled him up, leaving Joe balanced on the tips of his dress boots.  The miner looked him up and down and spat, expressing his distaste at what he found.  “You been keepin’ her company, fancy boy?”

“Well…”  The teen winced.  His pa taught him not to lie.  “Maybe now and then.  We’ve – “

“In my bed???!!!” Knox roared.

“No!  I didn’t!  I haven’t….  I wouldn’t!”  Joe gasped as Knox brought his free hand up to circle his throat with massive fingers.  “Honest! I –”

Knowles cocked his head like a rooster.  “Honest?” he scoffed.  “Honest!  You bed another man’s wife and you expect him to believe you’re bein’ honest?!”  The furious miner shook him hard.  “What kind of a fool do you take me for, boy?!  You’re just beggin’ to die!”

“This one would beg to disagree.”

Joe gazed over the summit of the mountain’s shoulder.  There was something familiar about the newcomer’s voice.  He’d half-expected to find Hop Sing standing at the end of the alley, glaring at him; his look one of annoyance.

‘Mistah Joe bad boy.  Make father velly, velly angry!  You come home now!  Too big wash mouth out with soap, but not too big to wash every pan in kitchen!’

But it wasn’t Hop Sing.  So far as he could see, it wasn’t anybody.

The opposite end of the alley was empty.

Knox was apparently having the same trouble.  “Huh?” the miner grunted as he peered into the darkness.

There was no sign of movement.  Whoever it was must be dressed in black, Joe thought absurdly – as if a man’s fashion sense mattered at a time like this!

“This one has beheld men who beg to die and offered guidance for their journey.”  It was definitely a man and, by the voice, a young one.  “This nan hai does not seek to die, but to live.”

“Sleepin’ with another man’s wife ain’t the way to do that!”

“I told you, I didn’t.  I – gasp!” Joe forgot to breathe – because he couldn’t breathe.  Knox’s fingers had tightened on his throat and he was seeing stars.  The teenager clawed at the big man’s hand, desperate to break free.

The newcomer remained calm. “And have you never?”

“Never what?”  the miner shot back.

“Slept with the wife of another?”

“I…”  Knox took a step forward – taking Joe with him.  “Who the HELL are you?!”

When the mountain moved, the stars departed.  Joe still couldn’t draw a breath, but he could see again.  Curiously, what he saw was that he and Knox were the only ones in the alley.

Where were the mountain’s men?

“Who am I?” the unseen man echoed.  “I am no one.”

“You sure as Hell are mouthy for ‘no one’.”  Knox’s grip shifted as he took another step and the stars winked back into existence.  “You’re a coward!  Show yourself, you damn canary!”

The veils over Joe’s eyes were dark as a senorita’s mantilla.  Still, he saw something.  Someone was there; slender as a girl, but with a man’s build.

“Just so,” the newcomer said.  “The canary is a sign of happiness and auspiciousness.  These I do bring.”  His tone darkened.  “But not for you.”

Knox Knowles grunted.  “Barker!  Snipes!  Come on, you rock rats!  Step up and take this half-a-piss out!”

Joe’s spirits plunged.  He hadn’t thought of that.  Maybe Knox’s men were there, hiding in the shadows and waiting for the word from their boss.  He held his breath and waited.

And waited….

And….

“Most unfortunate.  Most dishonorable pàngzi seems to be alone.  Would it not perhaps be wise to release the nan hai and go on your way?”

The miner snorted. “Now that’s something I ain’t never been accused of – bein’ ‘wise’!”

“This one is not surprised.”

Joe gasped as Knox’s grip shifted yet again.  Suddenly, the mountain was behind him and the sharp edge of a Barlow knife was anchored beneath his jaw.

“You come forward where I can see you, chink, or I’ll stick this little home-breaker like a pig and you can watch him bleed out!”

There was an imperceptible shift in the shadows; like a ripple on dark water.  A man appeared, his slender form entirely encased in black – black boots, black canvas pants, a black shirt, and a black work vest with a black duster tossed over it.  His black slouch hat pitched forward to mask his face.  The fabric was dull.  There was no spark of light – unless it was his eyes.  From out of the shadows the dark orbs caught the pale moonlight and sparked like flint on steel.

“You will release the nan hai now.”

“Come and take him from me – if you can!!” Knox shouted as the knife-blade pierced Joe’s skin.

The last thing the teenager remembered was that he’d been wrong.  The man’s eyes weren’t the only spark of light in the alley.  There was a second – more vivid and infinitely more perilous.

That would be his smile.

**********

Hoss Cartwright was in hog heaven – well, ‘horse’ heaven really.  His favorite mare had dropped a pair of twin foals the night before pretty as a May mornin’ – even if the mornin’ in May they done chose to enter the world was cold as the frost on a mill pond!  Their mama was a piebald paint, mostly black.  Joe had named her ‘Storm’ on account of the streaks of white lightning runnin’ down her withers.  He’d gone ahead and named these two.  He was sure little brother would agree.  One was near-white and the other almost all black so they was Lightning and Thunder.

The gentle giant reached out to touch the velvety nose of the twin closest.  “You two are gonna be all right, you here?  Old Hoss is here to make sure of it.”

“Hoss?”

The big man looked over his shoulder toward the door and watched his father enter.  “Hey there, Pa!  You come to meet the newest members of the Cartwright family?”

“Actually, I came looking for the youngest member of the family – barring your new additions.”  Ben indicated the newborns.  “How are the foals doing?”

“They’re fine and dandy, Pa.  Fit as a fiddle.”

His father bent to caress the downy head of the foal closest to him.  “Ship-shape, eh?’

“Yes, sir.  They’s a little small on account of they’re a little early, but they’ll grow up in no time.”

The older man straightened up.  “Speaking of the need to ‘grow up’, have you seen your youngest brother this morning?’

Hoss frowned.  “No, but then I ain’t been in the house.  You mean Little Joe ain’t still in bed?”

“No.  No, he’s not in bed.”

“You ask Adam about him?”

“Yes, I did.  He hasn’t seen Joseph either.”

“Wait.”  Hoss scratched his chin.  “I think I remember Joe telling me yesterday he was gonna mend some fence…somewhere…”

Ben nodded.  “Yes, your brother asked if he could spend the day mending the fence in the south pasture that the spring floods tore through.  He mentioned he might camp out overnight, but I specifically told him to be home for breakfast.”

Hoss’ eyes widened.  “Little brother asked to mend a fence?”

“I should have seen it coming,” the older man sighed.

“Seen what coming?” Hoss patted the mare’s head and rose to his feet.

“I wondered at the time about his motives.  Joseph took an inordinate amount of time preparing to leave.  When he finally appeared, he had a heavy satchel pitched over his shoulder.”

“Did you ask him what was in it?”

“I certainly did.”

“And?”

The older man scowled.  “A change of clothes.”

“Oh.”

“’Oh’ indeed!  That boy is a master of prevarication!” Ben threw his hands in the air.  “You know what your brother will say when I find him in town or on his way back….”

“I sure do. ‘I didn’t tell no lie, Pa.  I sure needed that change of clothes so I could go dancin’…’”

“Or gambling or Heaven alone knows what!”  The older man growled.  “I swear, there are times when I don’t know what to do with that boy!  It’s a shame he’s too old to take a paddle to!”

“If I know Joe – and I do – it has to do with a girl.”

Both of them swung toward the barn door.  The rising sun cast Adam’s trim figure into silhouette as he stepped over the threshold.  Older brother had spent the day before evaluating the mine their father had recently acquired.  He was dressed for the new one in his favorite black pants, wine-colored shirt, and heavy corduroy coat.

“How did things go at the Justice, son?” their father asked.

“All right,” Adam replied as he entered.  “The lowest level of the mine has a few issues, but they’re nothing to worry about.  Sorry I got home so late I couldn’t fill you in.”  One black brow cocked at their father’s look.  “I take it little brother didn’t do the same?  I checked on the way down and Joe’s bed’s not been slept in.”  The black-haired man paused, seemingly to realize he might just have signed his little brother’s death warrant.  “If it helps any, one of the men told me he did see Joe mending fences….  No?”

“That boy will have some fences to mend when I find him!” their father growled.

“I’ll go,” Adam said.  When the older man started to protest, he added, “Let me go, Pa.  I know where to look.”

Their father’s black brows shot up.  “Oh?”

Older brother looked right at him.  “You know too, Hoss.”

“I do?”  The big man thought a moment.  “You don’t mean Tabby?’

“Tabby?”  Pa’s scowl deepened.  “I take it that’s not the name of a cat?’

“No, sir,” Adam replied.  “It’s a girl.  Well, a woman really.”

“Is there something you two know about this ‘woman’ and your baby brother that you have not bothered to tell your old man?’

Adam shrugged.  “It’s an infatuation, Pa.  I figured Joe would grow out of it.”

“An infatuation with whom?”

Older brother winced.  “Tabby, er, Tabitha Knowles.  She’s a…hostess at the Soap Saloon.”

“And just how did your sixteen-year-old brother come to be acquainted with a ‘hostess’ at the most disreputable saloon in the settlement?”

“Don’t go blamin’ Adam, Pa,” Hoss replied.  “It was the both of us.  We got us a powerful thirst one day when Little Joe was with us.  We sat the boy down at a table and told him not to move.”

“So the hostess ‘moved’ to him instead?” Pa snapped.

“You know Joe,” Adam replied.  “All he has to do is bat those long eyelashes of his and women come running.  In fact, he doesn’t even have to bat them,” he added with a sigh.

It was true.  Didn’t matter whether they was a church-goin’ grandma, a school marm with starched skirts, or a woman workin’ at the mercantile, little brother done cast a spell on ‘em.  It’d been that way since nigh-on the day Joseph Francis Cartwright first drew a breath.

“How long has this been going on?” their father demanded.

Adam stroked his chin.  “Honest, Pa. I would have said something, but I thought it had died down over the winter.  I didn’t know any different until a few days ago when I caught Joe heading into town all gussied-up on a work day and forced it out of him.  I gave him a good talking to and thought that was that.”  The thirty-year-old sighed.  “Apparently it wasn’t.”

Pa was tapping one finger against his cheek.  “Knowles,” he said, and then repeated the name, “Knowles.  There’s a man working at the Justice named Knowles.  I’ve seen the records.  He’s foreman there.  He has a wife.”  The older man looked at each of them in turn.  “I believe her name is Tabitha.”

“Tabby’s…married?” Hoss gulped audibly.  “You’d never know it by the way she…acts….”

“And just how well do you know this ‘Tabby’?” his father asked pointedly.

“Like Adam said, she’s a hostess at the Soap.  Everyone who goes there knows her.  She’s….”  Hoss blushed.  “…friendly.”

Their father drew a deep breath and held it for a full count of ten.

Never a good sign.

“We’ll leave that discussion for another day, shall we?” Pa said at last.  “Right now my concern is for your wayward younger brother who has yet to return home.  Hoss, saddle up Buck.  I’ll go.”

Adam caught their father’s arm.  “Pa, please, let me.  It’s dark, and it’s a long way to the settlement.”

“And you think this old man can’t take it?” their father snarled.

“No, sir, I don’t mean that.  My point is this – you have to prepare for the meeting with the shareholders of the mine tomorrow.  Some of them are pretty jumpy about it changing hands.  You don’t want to jeopardize the future of –”

“Nothing is as important as my youngest son’s well-being and safety!!” Ben Cartwright thundered.

“Pa,” Adam hazarded.  “Think it through.  You….”

As older brother’s voice trailed off, they heard it – the clip-clop of a horse coming into the yard.

Hoss blew out a breath.  Seemed neither older brother nor Pa would be headin’ into town tonight.

The good Lord be praised!

**********

Ben Cartwright straightened his spine and charged out of the barn with the fury of a righteously indignant father – only to come to a sudden halt when he saw there were not one but two horses in the yard.  The closest – a striking medium-size black Morgan – held two disheveled figures.  Both men were slight of build. One sat upright while the other leaned forward as if ill.  It took the older man a moment for his gaze to move to the second horse, which lagged behind and was pawing the sprouting grass fretfully.

There was no mistaking his youngest son’s prize pinto, Cochise.

By the time Ben regained his composure; the upright man had dismounted and was lowering Joseph to the ground.  The worried father started for his son, but stopped when the slender cowboy blocked his way.  He was dressed all in black; his face hidden by the wide brim of the slouch hat he wore.

“Who are you?” Ben demanded of the stranger.  “What do you think you’re doing?”

“Pa? What’s going on?” Adam asked as he came alongside.

“Yeah, Pa,” Hoss added as he did the same.  “What’s wrong with little brother…?”

Ben held a hand up, calling them both to silence.

“Well?” he demanded of the newcomer.  “I’d like an answer.”

The man sucked in air before replying, as if the amount his lungs held was insufficient.  He placed a hand on his side and executed a shallow bow.  “It is with deep regret…most honorable sir…that this one must inform you of…his failure.”  His words were halting; his voice weak.  “This one was…unable to keep your son…from harm.”

“Is the boy all right?”

“This one was able to prevent most harm to the boy…though not all.”

Ben took a step forward and held out a hand.  The man had begun to sway.  “And who is ‘this one’?  Who do I thank for bringing my boy home?”

Pain shuddered through the disheveled figure in front of him as the man lifted his head and straightened his back.  This caused the mounting light to strike his face. It was a handsome face, broad at the cheeks and narrow at the chin; a face of some distinction and showing definite intelligence.  Still there was something about the man that was, well….

Frankly disturbing

“I am Jiangshi,” the stranger said.

Just before he pitched face-forward to the ground.

 

---

 

Chapter Two

 

It was at times like this that he missed his beloved wives the most.  A father was a necessity in a child’s life – especially a boy’s – but no more so and, at times, perhaps less than a mother.  How many times in his sons’ short lives had he flared with righteous indignation at some perceived violation of rules or trust – ready to tan their backsides and restrict them to the Ponderosa for the rest of their lives – only to melt like ice in the summer sun at the sight of their pain?  Women, on the other hand, would swoon at the sight of blood and coo over bumps and bruises, but meet the obstinacy and pigheaded disobedience that had engendered them with a spine of steel.

Ben Cartwright reached out to touch his youngest son’s bruised and battered face. It matched the rest of the boy’s slender frame, which was also black and blue.  Hop Sing was away visiting relatives, so it had been left to him to strip his son’s clothes off and face the aftermath of whatever trouble Joseph had run into this time.  The rancher would never admit it, but he knew their Chinese housekeeper shielded him from the worst of his son’s misadventures, cleaning away much of the blood and binding the worst of the wounds before he came into the room.  There had been no such shield this time. Here and there amidst the bruises that stood as stark evidence to the pummeling Joseph had taken, there were knife slashes – one or two were fairly deep, though not so deep they had struck anything vital.

Ben was fairly certain that was not the case with Joseph’s savior.

The stranger lay fighting for his life in the guest room downstairs.  It came as a bit of a shock to find he was Asian.  The rancher shook his head.  He should have guessed from the man’s mode of speech – so like Hop Sing’s – but then his thoughts had been elsewhere, riveted on the quiescent form of his youngest son lying on the ground.  Although dressed as a Westerner, the man looked to be full-blooded Chinese.  Judging by his appearance he was likely no older than Little Joe. Yet – even in unconsciousness – a profound world-weariness clung to him, as though he had lived several lifetimes in those few short years.  The man had been beaten as well, though not nearly so badly as Joe.  The bruises would heal.  Sadly, whatever knife had been used to slash his son’s skin had been thrust straight into the stranger’s side – and not once, but twice.

Adam rode hard and fast to fetch Paul Martin.  The doctor was with the young man now.

He had yet to find out if he would survive.

“Uhh..nn….”

Ben turned toward his youngest son.  Joseph was in his room, nestled within a cocoon of safety comprised of several blankets plus the red and white coverlet Marie had ordered for their shared bed so long ago.  The boy’s striking eyelashes – the ones Adam had rightly noted could turn any woman’s head – fluttered. A moment later his son’s eyes opened.

Panic entered them.   “No!” the boy shouted as he struggled to rise.  “NO!”

Ben took him gently but firmly by the shoulders.  “Joseph.  It’s all right, boy.  You’re home.”

Little Joe was obviously confused.  He struggled feebly in his grasp.  “No… No!  Have to…help!”

“Joseph!” he said sternly.  “Look at me.  Joseph!!  Do it now!”

That voice – the one the boy recognized as his father pushed close to the edge – penetrated the boy’s bewilderment.  Marie’s son shuddered before looking at him.

“Pa?”

Ben moved to the bed, slipped in behind his son and placed an arm around his shoulders.  The boy remained still; safe for the moment in that embrace.  A minute later he remembered he wasn’t a ‘boy anymore and pulled away.

Ah! To be so young!

“Hugh?” he asked.

“Hugh?”

“Hugh brought me home, didn’t he?  Tell me he’s okay!’

“The man you were riding with?  Yes, he’s here.”  Ben frowned as he returned to his chair.  “I thought his name was Jiangshi.”

“No, it’s Hugh.  At least, that’s what he told me after…after….”  Joseph paled and fell silent.

Ben placed a steadying hand on his son’s shoulder.  “After what?”

The boy shuddered.  Tears entered his eyes.  “I’m sorry, Pa.  I went into town without telling you.”

“Are you?’

Joe blinked.  “Am I what?’

“Sorry.”

His son hung his head.  “Yes, sir.  I was…stupid. There was this –”

“Girl.”

The boy looked up.  His full lips curled with slight smile.  “How’d you know?”

How could he not?  There was always a girl.

One rainy afternoon he and Paul Martin had been talking.  Paul had mentioned then how the growing science of the mind explained such things.  The physician told him it was likely that Joseph, who had lost his mother so young, would have a penchant to seek out women – in particular older women – to take her place.

Ben sighed.

Little Joe’s ghost of a smile broadened into a sheepish grin.  “I guess I don’t have to ask, right?  It’s just that Tabby is so pretty….”

“Tabitha Knowles?”

The grin disappeared.  “You know her?”

“No, but I know her husband.  He works at the Justice.”

He’d bought the Justice Mine from a friend who was down on his luck.  The trouble was, so was the mine.  He doubted it would ever amount to much.  Still, there were men employed there with mouths to feed and he had pledged he’d do his best to make it viable and vital again.

“Knox works for you?!”

“So you two are on a first name basis?” Ben paused to lend his next words more weight.  “Was that before, or did things change when he attempted to kill you?”

“I didn’t know Tabby…er…Tabitha was his wife!  Honest, Pa, I didn’t!” Little Joe protested.  “I mean…  Well, she was the one that started it!”

“Started what precisely?”

Joe winced at his tone and the implication.

“I imagine when your brothers took you into the Soap Saloon – against my wishes – that they warned you about the kind of women who work in such an establishment.  Am I right?’

“Are Adam and Hoss in trouble?”

“You should have thought of that before you followed them in.”

The boy swallowed hard.  “Yes, sir.  Please don’t take it out on them!  They tried to talk me out of seeing her.”

“So I have heard.  Wise words fall on deaf ears, eh?’

“She was just so….”  The boy sighed.  “I don’t know how to describe it, Pa.  She…needed me.”

The thought of what a woman over twenty could ‘need’ a sixteen-year-old boy for sent shivers through him.  Thank God it had not gone that far.  He looked at his son.

He hoped!

“Tabby was so sad and lonely.  She said she had no one who understood her and she needed somebody to talk to and….”  Little Joe blanched.  “You’ve heard this all before.”

Many times.

“Believe it or not, son, I was a young man once.  I cut a fine figure and drew many a woman’s eye.”

Mostly the wrong kind of women’s eyes.  He’d nearly found himself crimped once due to a wide pair the color of a dusky cerulean sky!

Ben leaned forward to place his hand over his son’s, noting as he did the bruised knuckles and torn skin.  “There’s a sad story for every woman who finds herself reduced to working in an establishment like the Soap Saloon.  Some are tragic.  But you must remember, no matter what the reason, the choice of a life of sin is still that, a choice.”

Joe bristled.  “You don’t know that about Tabby.”

Oh, but he did.  He and Paul Martin had had quite a long talk about the young lady while his son lay unconscious; beaten within an inch of his life.  Tabitha and Knox Knowles were fairly new to the settlement, but already they had a reputation.  Tabitha would hone in on the son of a wealthy family and lure him to her bed – only to have her irate husband come home ‘unexpectedly’ and find them together.  Of course, blackmail followed….

Ben stared at his son.

“Do you?” Joe asked.

Joe was so young and still an innocent in so many ways.  That was what he had asked for Marie’s son – a life free of the cares and concerns that had formed his older sons.  Well, God had granted his prayer.

One had to be careful what he prayed for.

“Do you trust me?” the rancher asked.

Little Joe’s ready answer gave him some peace.  “You know I do, Pa.”

He rose to his feet.  “I would tell you to steer clear of that young woman, but I don’t think it’s necessary.  Is it?’

“No, sir.  I learned my lesson.”

“If you haven’t, you will soon.”

Joe wrinkled his nose.  “A month of clearing out the stalls?’

Ben chuckled low in his throat.  “That’s a start.”

As he turned to go, his son called him back.  “Pa, you never told me about Hugh.  Is he gonna be okay?”

The older man looked toward the door, his thoughts flying down the stairs and beyond to the broken man who lay in the first floor bedroom.

That was because he didn’t know.

**********

Doctor Paul Martin shook his head as he exited the Cartwright’s guest room.  He’d placed his medical bag on the table behind the French settee and was rolling down his sleeves when Ben Cartwright appeared on the landing and hastened down the stairs.

“So how’s your young maverick doing?” Paul asked before his friend could speak.

“Bruised and battered, but awake and already complaining about being confined to bed.  Joseph is all right?” Ben asked as he came to his friend’s side.  “Isn’t he?”

“There’s an imprint of a boot and a deep bruise on his backside just above the kidneys.  I’d have Hop Sing check the chamber pot for a few days for signs of blood.  Other than that, I think the boy will display his usual amazing recuperative powers and bounce back to normal in a day or two.”

“Can I tell him you confined him to bed for three?’

Paul chuckled.  “Father’s prerogative.”

The doctor crossed to the door to retrieve his coat from the wooden peg rack and began to pull it on.  “Where is Hop Sing?  I’d like to give him a few instructions for my other patient before I leave.”

“You’ll have to give them to me,” the rancher replied.  “Hop Sing is away for a few days.”

“Oh?”  Paul smiled. “Off visiting cousin one hundred and ten?”

Ben shrugged.  “Something like that.  All I was able to get out of him was that it had to do with ‘family’.  Hop Sing being Hop Sing, I left it at that.”

‘Private’ was an understatement when it came to the Asian man.

“All right, then,” the doctor said.  “I left a bottle by the bed with a cleansing solution in it.  You’ll need to remove the bandages twice a day, clean the wounds, and then apply clean bandages after bathing the cuts with the salve I left beside it.”

“Will he live?’

It was the doctor’s turn to shrug.  “He’s young, like your son.  That means imprudent, most likely hot-headed, and hell-bent on doing things his own way but it also means he’s strong.  He should recover – barring any infection setting in.  The blade missed any vital organs.”

“He saved Joe’s life.”

“I imagine he did.”  Paul picked up his hat.  “Did Little Joe tell you what happened?”

“Not yet.  We talked a bit but he was tiring out, so I left it for later.  Is Hugh awake?’

The doctor had his hand on the latch.  He turned back to ask, “Hugh?”

“That’s his name.  Not ‘Jiangshi’.”

Paul chuckled.  “I thought that was an odd one.”

“What do you mean?” Ben asked as he came to stand beside him.

“You know I’ve worked alongside Chinese physicians.  Their medicine is practically as old as the world and we white folks have a lot to learn from them.  On the other hand, their beliefs are mired in superstition and myth.”  He frowned.  “You mean to tell me with Hop Sing around you have never heard the legend of the Jiangshi?”

“No.”

Paul cast his mind back to the time when he’d visited Yerba Buena’s Chinatown with the older man who was his medical mentor.  The memory brought a smile.  Theophilus O’Farrell was long gone to his reward but the older man’s patience with, and kindness to, the brash young man he’d been remained.  The visit was meant to humble him; to teach him that he knew far less than he thought he did.  It was Theo who got the surprise when, instead of talking about cures for various illnesses, the wise man they’d sought out could speak of nothing but the walking dead.

“The walking dead?” Ben asked, puzzled.

“Our equivalent would be a vampyr; another, a walking corpse.  As I understand it, according to their legends, the Jiangshi are reanimated corpses who seek the life force of others.  They’re created when a man dies far away from home without the proper rites, or when a spirit fails to depart from the body as it should.  It takes a priest or sorcerer who uses magical charms or talismans to subdue and control them.”

The rancher turned toward the guest room.  “Why would a young man identify himself with such a thing?”

Paul patted his friend’s arm as he lifted the latch.  “Well Ben, that’s for me to wonder and you to find out!”

**********

Ben watched his friend depart before turning toward the guest room.  He paused at the door and looked in.  Hugh didn’t move or make a sound.  Paul explained he’d heavily sedated the young man and, most likely, it would be morning before he needed to do anything more than check in on him.  He would do more than that, of course, once the young man had recovered.  He owed a great debt to this stranger.

If Hugh had not been in that alley….

The rancher entered the sick room and dropped wearily into the chair beside the bed.  None of them had slept much the night before.  He’d let Adam and Hoss remain in bed until well after the light had dawned.  They were at their morning chores now, with Adam slated to head to the Justice again as soon as he was done to finish his assessment of the mine. It would take a few hours.  He’d told the boy to be home by dark.

It was far too early for him to feel comfortable with one of his sons out of the circle of his protection.

Mother hen or not!

He’d been able to piece together something of what transpired from his son and Hugh’s vague mumblings while unconscious.  Joseph’s cries of ‘No!’ and  ‘I’m coming!’ coupled with Hugh’s warning to ‘Stay back!’ strongly suggested that someone – most likely Knox Knowles – had been threatening Joseph when the Asian man came along.  Hugh’s appearance no doubt saved his young son from having the knife that had wounded the Asian man stuck between his ribs.

Ben shuddered.

“Your son is…most brave.”

The rancher started, surprised.   “You’re awake?”

The wounded man nodded weakly.  Then he did a surprising thing – Hugh drew in a deep breath and sat up.

“This one must go,” he announced.

Ben was on his feet in an instant.  He placed a restraining hand on the young man’s shoulder.  “You will do no such thing!”

“This one must,” the man insisted.  “He…cannot remain and…place your family in danger.”

“I’m not afraid of Knox Knowles or his ilk,” Ben scoffed.

The Asian man met his gaze and held it.

“Neither is this one.”

It was the first time their eyes had met for any length of time.  Hugh was younger than he’d first thought.  At a guess, he’d say no more than a year or two older than Joseph.  And yet there was about him – some ‘thing’ that was ageless, as if he had already lived a dozen lifetimes.  His face was somewhat narrow for one of his race.  His hair was black as was common, but – surprisingly – the mass was thick and wavy as his youngest son’s.  An unwarranted smile tugged at Ben’s lips.  Right now Hugh’s hair was as unruly as Little Joe’s.  A series of spiraling locks dangled over his forehead, partially masking those world-weary eyes.  The young man had a strong mouth, indicating determination.  Sadly, there seemed to be very few laugh lines.

“Tell me then, who are you afraid of?” the rancher asked.

“This one…did not say he was…afraid.”

“No, but you are.”

Hugh grunted as he shifted his broken body back and braced it against the pillows.  He was obviously in pain.  “You are Little Joe’s father?’ he asked.

“Yes.  Thank you for saving my son.”

The Asian man nodded.  “It was a most…unfair fight…though this one does not doubt your so could have won had the…man who sought to harm him been honorable.”

“Would you like something for the pain?” Ben asked with a nod toward the bottle on the bedside table.

Hugh shook his head.  “This one must remain…vigilant.”

Obviously, he was not going to get the young man to talk about himself by asking.

Subterfuge was called for.

“Joe was badly beaten.”

Hugh stiffened.  “Little Joe is all right?”

“He is…recovering.  He’s not been very talkative.  Perhaps you could tell me what happened?”

The Asian man considered his request for a moment before speaking.  “Little Joe fought most valiantly.  It is…this one who owes your son his life.”

Apparently, true to form, Knox Knowles had sought his sixteen-year-old son out in the saloon to accuse him of carrying on an illicit ‘affair’ with his wife, and had done it with a cadre of fellow miners for back-up.  Ben sighed.  Joseph, it seemed, had quite a reputation for miraculous escapes and Knox had been bent on not losing him!  For some unknown reason the threat to ruin Joseph’s reputation ripened into violence and a chase ensued.  The rancher felt slightly sick to his stomach.  He’d been on the citizens’ committee that had voted to put up the fence up behind the Soap in order to block the exit of ne’er-do-wells.

That decision might have gotten his son killed.

Joseph found himself facing down a half-dozen brawny miners out for blood with no chance for escape.  If not for Hugh coming along, things could have turned out much worse.  When asked why he chose to intervene, the Asian man explained he had been in similar circumstances and Joseph was due a ‘fair wind and a following sea’; meaning justice.  The use of that phrase told him more about Hugh than anything else he had heard.

The Asian man was – or had been – a sailor.

Before confronting Knox, Hugh entered the alley and took out his henchmen without the big man being aware of it.  Then he approached the miner and demanded he release Joseph or face the consequences.  Such bravado elicited laughter from what Hugh described as the ‘pangzi’ or fat man.  Knox Knowles was near Hoss’ height and easily outweighed the slender Asian by one hundred pounds or more.   Knowles’ laughter died quickly when Hugh – a master of Gonfu, an ancient martial art of his people – flew through the air to knock the knife from his hand and Joseph from his clutches.  That should have ended the fight and would have had several of Knox’s men not awakened to join the fray.  By this time, according to Hugh, Joseph was barely conscious.  None-the-less his fearless – if foolhardy – son launched himself at Hugh’s attacker, turning what most certainly would have been a killing thrust into the deep cut the young man suffered.  It was then that one of the painted women from the Soap Saloon came sashaying into the alley with a client.  Her scream sent everyone running – including Hugh with Joseph in tow.

It might be a guess, but Ben was fairly certain the Asian man had no desire to be questioned by the local authorities.

Hugh remained upright; his slender form rigid, as if he would take flight at the first opportunity.  As a man who had raised three pig-headed sons – yes, each and every one of them! – Ben knew better than to argue with a man who had his mind made up.

So, he didn’t argue.

“I suppose it would be best for us if you left right away,” the rancher remarked as he leaned back.  “However, in the condition you’re in, you wouldn’t make it a mile.  If you’re found on our land….”  The rancher spread his hands wide.

The sound of Hugh’s labored breathing filled the room.  One hand covered his wound, while the other clasped and unclasped the bed covering.  A thin sheen of sweat lay upon his brow.

“So, here is what I propose,” Ben continued as if he hadn’t noticed.  “You stay put tonight.  Tomorrow we’ll find a way to transport you off of the Ponderosa without anyone seeing you.”

Hugh started as if surprised.  “The Ponderosa?  Is that where this one is?”

“Yes.  This is the Ponderosa and I’m Ben Cartwright.  I have three sons.  The oldest two are Adam and Hoss.  The foolish boy you saved last night is my youngest, Joseph – and you did save him.  I owe you a night of safety and recovery for that if for no other reason.  Besides, Joseph would never forgive me if I let you leave before he has a chance to say ‘thank you’.”

The Asian man’s gaze shifted to the open door.  “You and your sons, you…are the only ones here?’

Ben smiled.  “Plus a few dozen ranch hands.  Oh, and Hop Sing, our housekeeper and cook, but he’s away right now.  Otherwise he’d be the one tending you.”

“You have a…Chinese…housekeeper?” the young man asked.

“Is there something wrong with that?’

Hugh paused in an effort to control his labored breathing.  “It is not…wrong…so much as surprising.”

“I’m wearing you out,” Ben said as he rose.  “Before I go, I need a promise from you.”

“A promise?”

“Yes.  I need you to promise me on the ancestors that you will not stir from this bed until…I see you again.”  The rancher had almost said ‘until tomorrow’, but he had a sense this young man was as good at prevarication as his youngest.  A promise given to look one another in the eye before departing should stop him getting up at one minute past midnight to leave.

Hugh hesitated.  Then he nodded.

“On the ancestors,” Ben insisted.

“On the ancestors,” the wounded man echoed.

Ben headed for the door.  He turned back before stepping through.  “One more question before I go.”

“Yes?”

“Why did you tell me your name was ‘Jiangshi’ when it is Hugh?”

“This one did so?”

“You did.  You said you were ‘Jiangshi’.”

The Asian man did something then the rancher had not seen yet – he smiled.

“Perhaps that is my other name,” he replied as he closed his eyes.

**********

Days later Ben Cartwright would realize that, when the young man had taken note of the name ‘Ponderosa’, he should have done the same.

 

---

 

Chapter Three

 

Pa told him he’d skin him if he left his bed before three days were up.

He guessed he’d have to learn to live without a skin.

Joe clung to the banister tightly as he made his way slowly downstairs.  It was the second day since Hugh had brought him home.  Not only was he going stir crazy –

He had to see the Asian man.

He was wearing his night shirt and his feet were bare, so it was easy not to make any noise.  Not that he needed to worry.  Pa and Hoss had left with their current foreman and Adam was at the Justice Mine.  He knew because he’d been sitting on the landing where no one could see him, listening as the others spoke of their plans during breakfast.

He could get used to Hop Sing being gone!

Well, not really.

Actually, the teenager had to admit he kind of missed Hop Sing’s mothering.  It was better than his pa’s smothering!  Pa acted, well, worried – so he made you worried.  Joe rolled his eyes.  Whenever he was sick or recovering from the most recent stupid thing he’d done, his pa’s silent signals – like sighing or pulling at his chin – made him wonder if maybe was dying.  Hop Sing on the other hand would sweep in with all the fury of a flash flood, arms laden with bandages and ointment, and give him a tongue-lashing that beat any thrashing he’d ever taken at his father’s hand.  ‘Such foolishment!’  he’d exclaim. ‘Little Joe lǎn!  He bái chī!  How you help Hop Sing out if you get self killed?  You get better.  Many lots to do!  Chop Chop!’

That was love at its best.

Joe gripped the wooden newel post at the bottom of the stairs with both hands as he paused to catch his breath.  He eyed the distance between him and the door of the guestroom – a good twenty feet or more – and gulped.  It had never looked so far away.  Determined, he launched himself toward the arm of the settee and was overjoyed when he reached it.  From there the dogged teenager moved to the table behind it and then to the door itself, where he leaned his head against the polished wood and waited.  What if Hugh had left already without saying goodbye?  The Asian man didn’t strike him as the type to stick around.  Joe drew a breath and took hold of the latch and pushed the door in.

He let it out when he found Hugh sitting up in the bed – alive, if pale as ash.

“Hey,” Joe said since he didn’t know what else to say.

Hugh had been staring out the window.  He turned his head and his obsidian eyes focused on him – in an unfocused sort of way.

The man was obviously in pain.

“Nǐ hǎo,” he said.

Joe knew that one. It meant ‘hello’.

“’Hello’ yourself,” he replied.  “How are you doing?”

Hugh breathed a sigh.  “Thanks to your father, this one is still here.”

“Thanks to Pa?” Joe asked as he maneuvered to the bedside chair and dropped gratefully into it.  “What’s Pa got to do with it?”

The Asian man scowled.  “This one has very little left in the world.  Most prized among his possessions is his honor.”

“So….Pa made you promise not to leave until he saw you again, right?  And then he left without checking in?”  The teenager chuckled.  “He’s used that one on me more than once!”

“And does ‘that one’ work with Little Joe?”

“I guess not since I came downstairs after promising not to.”  Joe shrugged.  “I guess maybe honor isn’t as important to me as it is to you.”

“A pity.”

That cut him almost as deeply as Knox Knowles’ knife had.

“I know my pa,” Joe replied defensively.  “And he knows me.”

“Do you also know that those who act dishonorably will face Heavenly punishment?”

The teenager rolled his eyes.  “Yeah, I’ve heard that one before – about a million times!  It’s one of Hop Sing’s favorites.”

Hugh’s black eyes narrowed.  “Hop Sing?”

“He’s our housekeeper and cook.  No….  He’s more than that.  He’s…”  Joe made a face.  “Well, he’s Hop Sing!”

“This one has cared for you?’

“Since I was a little boy.  My mama died when I was four.  Hop Sing kind of took over.”

“Ah.  This one has been with your family many years.”

“Yeah.  Pa took Hop Sing on before my mama died.”  Joe laughed.  “Mama was beautiful but, according to Hop Sing, she couldn’t cook her way out of a flour sack!”

“Your father told me he…Hop Sing…is away?”

“For a couple of weeks.”  Joe leaned back in the chair in an effort to ease the pain in his side.  He started to scratch one of the stitched-up cuts, but remembered what the doctor had said and let his hand fall to his knee.  “I was there when the telegram came.  Hop Sing didn’t share what it said, but he took off like a shot.  He didn’t even take time to make sure Hoss was fed and watered!”  Joe blew out a ‘whoo-ee!’   “Whatever was in it, it must have been important!”

Hugh frowned.  “Hah-ahs?”

“Hoss.  He’s my big brother.  Well, one of my big brothers.”  He laughed.  “I don’t know what heaven was thinkin’, but I got two!  I’m the youngest and Adam is the oldest.  Hoss is in-between.”

“And Hoss likes to eat?”

Joe snorted.  “And how!”

Hugh winced as he drew his body up higher on the pillows.  The gesture reminded Joe of what the Asian man had gone through to keep him alive.

“I’m sorry you got hurt,” he said.

Hugh frowned.  “As this one is sorry that you got hurt.”

“I was afraid Knox and his oxes were going to kill you!”

The Asian man looked away.  “If this one were to die, no one would care.”

“I would,” Joe declared.

Hugh turned back sharply.  “You must not, Joseph Cartwright,” he asserted, alarmed.  “You must forget this one!”

“Are you running from something?  Or someone?  If you are, we can help.  Pa would want to help for what you did.”  He hoped he sounded sincere.  “You’d be safe here, I promise.”

“This one does not need your father to keep him safe.  This one is safe.  There is no peril for those who are dead.”  The Asian man struggled to sit up higher.  “The same cannot be said of you and your family, Little Joe,” he warned gravely.  “This one awaits the return of your father and then he will go!”

Joe was at a loss for words.  He’d only known Hugh for a couple of days, but there was something that bound them together.  He had no idea what it was, but he knew it was real.  He didn’t want the Asian man to go, but he had no idea how he would stop him.

Then something caught his attention.

He gestured toward the other man’s middle. “Last time I checked dead men don’t bleed.”

Hugh looked down.  A deep red patch stained the bandage Doc Martin had wrapped around his ribcage.  Hugh bit off several sharp words in Mandarin – ones Joe had never heard before.

“It is this one’s fear that living men do!”

***********

By the time they reached the Ponderosa the sun had dropped behind the distant mountains.  Ben was bone weary, so when Hoss offered to stable Buck he didn’t argue.  He thanked his son and headed straight for the house.  To his surprise the rancher found the porch light on and his youngest occupying the rocking chair under it.  Little Joe was sound asleep.  His first reaction was to chide the boy for taking a chance with his health, but his heart melted at the sight of the teenager’s tousled brown curls sticking out of the top of the woolen blanket he was swaddled in.  Ben couldn’t count the times he’d come home to find the boy just so; waiting for him as if he feared he might never return.  Joe was murmuring in his sleep.  There was a frown on his face and his forehead was furrowed as if whatever dreamscape he walked was not a pleasant one.

“Joseph,” he said gently.

The furrows deepened before the boy’s eyes opened.  Joe looked at him and blinked several times as if uncertain he was awake.

“Pa?  Is it really you?”

“It’s me, boy.”

Joe straightened up in the chair – and seemed only then to realize he was somewhere he should not have been.

“Sorry.”

“It’s all right, son.  Are you warm enough?”

The teenager nodded even as a slight chill shook through him.

“Humor me,” the anxious father said as he removed his own coat.  “Lean forward.”

“Pa….”

“I said…humor me.”

Joe did as he was told and seemed the better for it.  As the boy snuggled in, Ben crossed to the table on the porch to retrieve a chair.  Once seated beside his son, he laced his fingers together and let them fall between his knees.

“How is our guest?” he asked.

Joe made a face.  “He’s an odd one, Pa.”

“I take it Hugh is still here then?”

“That’s part of why I came out here.  I was waiting for you to come back so I could tell you.”  Joe glanced toward the window of the guest room.  “I don’t think Hugh will be going anywhere any time soon.  He’s got a pretty high fever.”  He paused.  “I sent one of the men for Doc Martin.  I hope that was okay.”

“Of course it was.”  The rancher leaned back.  “What was the other ‘part’?”  At his son’s questioning look, he added, “…for ‘coming out here’?’

“I…”  Joe cleared his throat and sat up.  “I wanted to apologize for breaking the rules.”

Ben chuckled to himself – by breaking the rules, of course!

“Do you know why you chose to break them?’

“I guess….” The teenager’s nose wrinkled.  “No, I know.  I thought I knew better than you.”

“Your brothers tell me that they warned you as well about Tabitha Knowles.”

Joe rolled his eyes.  “Heck, Pa, I know I know better than them!”

“How come you two is sittin’ out here in the dark?” Hoss asked.  As he approached he rubbed his hands together.  “Ain’t you cold?”

“You know me, Hoss,” his brother answered.  “I could sleep bare-naked in a blue norther’!”

Ben shivered.  “Not this old man!”  He turned to his youngest.  “Are you ready to go in now?”

Joe looked up at the stars.  “Maybe in a few minutes.  You gonna stay with me?”

“Here, Pa.”  Hoss handed his giant coat over.  “I sure enough won’t need it when I’m sittin’ by a warm fire in the house.”  He suddenly looked unsure.  “You did remember to stoke the fire before you come out, didn’t you, little brother?”

Joe gave the big man a look. “Of course, I did!  Do you think I don’t know better than to let the fire go out on a cold night?”  The teenager suddenly frowned.  “Unless….”

“What?”

He made a face.  “I don’t know how long I’ve been asleep!”

Hoss stepped back and looked up.  “There’s smoke in the chimney.”

“Well, then, there you have it then!” Joe proclaimed.  “Where there’s smoke, there’s fire!”

It was a good thing Joe had learned to duck at a young age.

As Hoss closed the door, Ben turned to his youngest.  “I told Jim to come in and tend to the fire since Hop Sing is away.  You were supposed to be in bed.  Didn’t he come?”

Joe burrowed deeper into his nest.  “What middle brother doesn’t know won’t hurt him.”

The rancher chuckled and they fell into a silence that lasted several minutes.  Since the night was unusually cold for May, the stars were brilliant; their white light so bright it seemed high noon rather than a minute before midnight.  Joe was very quiet.  His young face was turned away and he’d drawn his hands up to his chin; his fingers tangled in the thick fabric of the old blanket.

“Something’s troubling you,” Ben said, breaking the silence.  “Something more than disobeying your wise old father.  Is it Hugh?”

Joe nodded.  “He’s all alone, Pa.  Hugh said….  He said if he died no one would care.”  The boy glanced at him.  “I told him I would.”

Hoss adopted lost puppies.  With this one, it was lost souls.

“That was kind of you, son.”

“I meant it, Pa.  I know I only met him a couple of days back, and I know I know practically nothing about him but somehow…somehow I know him.”  Joe looked at him.  “Do you know what I mean?”

He thought he did.  He had felt it as well – an inexplicable tug toward the young man.

“Hugh told me.  He said…”  Joe stopped to rephrase whatever he had been about to say.  “I think he’s in trouble, Pa.  I think someone is after him – maybe someone dangerous.”

“Dangerous to him or to us?”

“I don’t know.”  The boy shrugged.  “Could be I’m wrong.”

Ben glanced at the guest-room window.  Inside that room laid an enigma wrapped in a puzzle – and a Chinese puzzle at that!  He’d had dealings with Asians before when he sailed the open seas.  Most were like Hop Sing, hard-working honest men and women who came to this country seeking a new and better life.  But not all.  There were others – evil, unscrupulous men who chose to embrace the darkness; men who dealt in drugs and death.

He wondered which kind Hugh was.

“I thought Pa said you was at the Justice,” a familiar voice remarked, causing Adam Cartwright to turn his head away from the young woman he’d been talking to.

“I was,” he answered truthfully as Hoss walked up to him.  “I thought you were home.”

Hoss winced.  “I was.”  The big man did a double-take when he saw just who it was he’d been talking to.  “Howdy, Miss Tabby,” Hoss said with a tip of his ten gallon hat.

Tabitha Katherine Tryon Knowles wrinkled her nose, sniffed, and then – with a swish of her scarlet-colored skirts – made her escape through the batwing doors of the Soap Saloon.

“What’s up with Miss Tabby?” Hoss asked.

“Tabitha and I were having a discussion.”

“A ‘discussion’, huh?  Anything like the ‘discussion’ you had a whiles back with that rogue ranch hand what stole from us?  The one where you said he was gonna end up in jail if’n he didn’t come clean?”

“No.  This time I was more…subtle.”

Hoss glanced at the saloon.  “No luck findin’ out where that goldarned knuckle-dragger is holed up then?”

Adam made a face. “What makes you think I’m trying to find Knox?”

The big man rammed his fist into his hand.  “On account of I come back to town to do the same thing!  I’m gonna sweep C street up with him!”

“What about his buddies?” older brother asked.

“Pshaw!  I ain’t afraid of them.”

“One or two.  No.  But a dozen?”  Adam shook his head.  “Most likely it would be the two of us who end up being used as brooms!”

“You sound like you know him.”

“No, I don’t know him, but I know of him.  Like Pa said, Knowles works at the Justice.  He’s the foreman there.  No one does anything without his approval, on site or off.  I’ve seen him at work.  Knox says jump and his men jump – even if it’s down a hundred-foot mine shaft.”

“Has he been givin’ you trouble?”

“Nothing I can’t handle.”

“Tabby tell you anythin’?” Hoss asked as he stepped out of the way of a slightly tipsy patron exiting the Soap.

Adam pursed his lips.  “Sadly, no.  Though she looked decidedly nervous when I mentioned I would be going to see to Robert Olin soon.”

“Sheriff Olin?  You gonna report what Knox did to Joe and Hugh?”  At his brother’s look, Hoss rolled his eyes.  “I know.  Probably ain’t no use.  Robert’ll say Little Joe done got hisself into it by bein’…well…Little Joe.”

The elder Cartwright brother chuckled.  “You have to admit there is some truth in that.”

“Maybe.”  Hoss’ cherubic face darkened.  “If’n it had been a fair fight.”

The black-haired man placed a hand on his brother’s shoulder.  “I know and I agree.  That’s why I am going to talk to Robert.  Even though I can’t prove Tabitha and Knox are running a scam to fleece wealthy men of their riches, he should know it’s a possibility.  Robert needs to know that he has two fairly savvy con artists in residence in the settlement.”

“Did Tabby say anythin’ when you told her what you was gonna do?’

Adam chuckled.  “She paled decidedly.”

“Did you tell her she and Knowles oughta leave town?”

“I highly recommended it,” he replied.  “Actually, that’s what we were discussing when you joined us.  Tabby said she would talk to Knox about it and asked for me to wait a week before talking to Robert.”

“You gonna do that?  Wait a week?”

He nodded.  “Sure am.”

“How come?  That no-good pair don’t deserve nothin’!”

“Oh?  I beg to differ with you.”  Adam’s jaw tightened and his hazel eyes sparked.  “They most certainly do deserve something.”

“Then how come you promised not to tell Robert for a week?”

Adam started forward.  He crooked a finger over his shoulder.

“Because I’m going to tell Deputy Roy.”

 

---

 

Chapter Four

 

It was late and Ben Cartwright was at his office desk working on paperwork.  Or, at least that’s what he told himself he was doing.  He was actually waiting for Hoss and Adam to return.  The pair was overdue.  Oh, not terribly, but considering the trouble Joe had found himself in recently just the fact that they were running late made him nervous.

Distinctly nervous.

He knew his boys.  Though they fought like bears in a narrow cave, they were fiercely protective of one another.  Over the last few years Adam and Little Joe had begun to knock heads – and exchange blows – with greater frequency.  He put that down to his youngest’s growing pains and his eldest’s inability to recognize them for what they were.  Adam had bucked as well under his hand, but it had been done with respect – though the tight line of his eldest’s jaw and the steely look in the boy’s eyes had spoken of his defiance far louder than any of his little brother’s tantrums.

Ben chuckled.  Thank God for Hoss!

He’d bid farewell to Adam that morning and seen Hoss off in the afternoon, knowing full well where each was going – into the settlement to seek out the man who’d attacked their baby brother.  While Knox Knowles clearly deserved whatever justice the pair might decide to hand out, there was law in the settlement now.  He’d served as president of the committee that appointed Robert Olin as sheriff and Roy Coffee as his deputy; positions created for the sole purpose of taming what – at times – seemed to be an untamable town.  He understood his sons’ frustration.  It was hard to surrender the law of the west, a law that had served them well for over twenty years.

‘Look out for your own.’

Ben gathered the papers in front of him and tapped them lightly on the desktop before rising. It was time he got to bed.  Waiting up was unnecessary.  Adam and Hoss were old enough to look out for themselves – and to keep out of trouble.  The rancher looked toward the stair.  Thank God his young troublemaker was upstairs sound asleep!  He’d walked Joseph to his bed and remained in the room until the boy dozed off.  It had taken willpower, but he’d resisted the urge to brush the boy’s thick brown curls aside and lay a kiss on his forehead before he left.  Not that that stopped him from pulling up the coverlet and tucking it under Joseph’s chin!

Maybe it was time for a fourth wife.

This time he laughed out loud!

Ben didn’t expect a response, but he got one.  There was a sharp intake of air, followed by a few softly spoken words in Chinese.  The sound made him turn toward the partially opened front door.  A slight figure stood close by it, shivering in the cool night air.  The rancher blew out a sigh as he rounded his desk.

He supposed it should come as no surprise that his troublemaker would bring another troublemaker home!

“And just where do you think you are going, young man?’ Ben asked, his tone as stern as it Hugh had been one of his own.

The light in the great room was meager, but it was more than enough to show him that their unexpected guest was dressed for travel.  When Hoss stabled the black Morgan Hugh and Joe had arrived on, he’d found a leather satchel strapped to the cantle and brought it inside.  Knowing how private Hop Sing was about his things, they’d left it undisturbed.

It was obvious the contents stood before him.

The rancher had spent some time cleaning the clothes Hugh arrived in, doing his best to mend the rips and tears – all the while acknowledging that sewing was definitely not one of his gifts!  The young man was dressed in them, but over them he wore a frock coat fit for a king!  The lengthy garment was cut from a deep crimson cloth and festooned with gold braid and brass buttons on both facings.

A king or, maybe, a privateer.

Their curious house guest closed the door before facing him.  Hugh stood tall in the saddle, straightening his spine and managing a smile. Both gestures were betrayed by the deep shadows that cradled his eyes and the beads of sweat glistening on his brow.

Hugh was a very sick young man.

He bowed deeply.  “This one thanks most honorable Benjamin Cartwright and his sons for their hospitality.  This kindness to a stranger will not be forgotten.”

“But…?”

Hugh wobbled a bit as he straightened up.  “But it is time for this one to leave.”

“I disagree.  This one’s debt is not yet paid.”

The young man blinked, obviously puzzled.  “Debt?”

Ben stifled his chuckle.  He hadn’t been around Hop Sing all these years and not learned a thing or two!

“You saved my son’s life.”

“This one releases most honorable host from his debt,” the Asian man replied quickly.

“Honor is as heavy as a mountain,” the rancher said solemnly.  “You are injured and in pain.  You do not have the strength to lift this debt.”

The pitch of their visitor’s voice rose, revealing both his outrage and his age.  “Mister Cartwright promised this one that he could depart once he had seen you – and he has seen you!”

“You have seen me and are released from your debt.  That does not mean I am released from mine.”  Ben shook his head.  “My honor will not allow Hugh to leave until he can travel under his own power.”

“This one is here now!” the young man declared as he turned in a wobbly circle.  “See!  Hui Fu travels under his own power!”

“You do not.  Hugh Fu walks in another’s shadow and is afraid.”  He lifted a hand to cut short any protest.  “I do not say you are afraid for yourself.  I have a sense that you have had no fear in that regard for some time.  You want to leave because you are afraid for those in this household, and that means you are a man of honor.”

Hugh met his stern gaze with defiance before dropping his head.  A single tear glistened on his cheek as it trailed down the tanned flesh.

“This one has no honor.”

“Would you care to tell me why you believe that?’

The young man glanced up.  “This one cannot.”

Ben studied him for a moment.  Not liking what he saw, the rancher indicated his late wife’s settee.  “Will you please sit down before you fall down?”

Hugh swayed – and stubbornly remained where he was.

Ben stroked his chin as he considered how best to tackle this Asian enigma.

“What is the first law of the sea?” he asked.

“Why does most honorable Benjamin Cartwright expect this one to know?”

“Because most honorable Benjamin Cartwright sailed the seas and can spot another seaman from a mile away.”  He held the young man’s gaze.  “Now tell me, what is it?’

“One must assist those in distress,” he replied sullenly.

“Yes.  And the second?”

Hugh’s jaw tightened.  “Obey your captain.”

“Just so.”  The rancher smiled.  “A man’s home is his castle and therefore his ship, is it not?”  He indicated the settee.  “Now, sit down!”

The Asian man longingly eyed the front door before he complied.

Ben waited until his unexpected houseguest had settled in before taking a seat on the table directly in front of him.  There had been little time to assess the young man, so he took a moment to do so now.  Hugh was a handsome man.  He’d obviously been on the run for some time as he had a lean and hungry look about him.  The rancher’s evaluating gaze dropped to his guest’s hands.  You could tell a lot about a man from his hands.  There were no clear signs of a seaman’s rough life – no calluses or bruises – which puzzled him.  He’d arrived simply dressed in somewhat citified clothes.  The plain garments could have belonged to just about any profession.

Except for that crimson coat.

The crimson frock was a dead giveaway of a life lived on the open seas.  Its style was antique and martial and – though somewhat threadbare – it was obviously a garment of quality.  The front panel and cuffs were emblazoned with elegant Chinese symbols worked in metallic thread; a dragon’s head with an open maw cradled each of the dozen or so brass buttons.  The Asian man’s hair was, as he’d noted before, unusually curly for one of his race and while obsidian black, there were deep undertones of brown umber.  Hugh wore his hair short around the ears and long in the back; his thick tresses not braided in a queue as one might expect, but bound in a pony’s tail.  He had a strong face with a firm jaw and determined mouth.

Both were set in pain at the moment.

Ben frowned as he continued to study the young man.  There was something vaguely familiar about the cast of that strong face.  Then again, that might be put down to his race.  Hop Sing had told him once that, to a man from Asia, all white men looked alike.  His housekeeper’s admission had helped to quell the guilt he felt for even thinking such a thing.

When he spoke Hugh’s voice was hushed as the candle’s last breath.  “What is it you see when you look at this one, most honorable Ben Cartwright?”

“What do I see?  A boy who has been forced to be a man long before his time.”

Hugh looked away.

“Will you tell me why?’

The young man’s shoulders rose and fell in defeat.  “This one is alone,” he said.

“Your family is dead?’

There was a slight pause.  “Yes.”

“All of them?  Is there no one left?”

“Is a man in debt a slave who must answer all his master’s questions?” Hugh snapped.

“Forgive me.  I don’t mean to pry, though I admit I am curious.”  The rancher considered his words before speaking again.  “How about we change the topic?  How old you were when you went to sea?”  Ben chuckled at Hugh’s reaction.  “The frock coat is a dead giveaway.”

“Thirteen,” his guest replied.

‘Young, but not so young’, he thought.  Cabin boys were often far younger.

“And you’re what now?  Eighteen?  Nineteen, perhaps?’

Hugh nodded.

Close enough.

“I went to sea near that same age,” Ben said.  “It was with my father’s permission, if not his blessing.  It’s a worthy profession, sailing, but a hard life.”

Hugh was tiring, he could tell.  The boy was leaning heavily on the arm of the settee; his eyes half-closed.

“Hard?  Yes, it is hard,” the young man admitted, “but hardly worthy.”

“Were you….  Are you a privateer?”  His house guest seemed to have gone somewhere else in his thoughts, though whether into a dream of the future or the nightmare of past regrets Ben wasn’t sure. “Hugh?”

The Asian man sat up and looked directly at him.  “Most honorable Benjamin Cartwright does not intend to release this one from the debt he owes?”

“No, he does not.  Not until you are well.”  Ben paused before adding, “Of course, if you truly have no honor, you can sneak out in the middle of the night.  My bedroom and the boys’ are upstairs.  You and the front door are downstairs.  We would never hear it open.”

Hugh passed a shaky hand before his eyes before using it to press his trembling form up and off the settee.  He’d arrived at the guest-bedroom before he spoke again.

“This one’s father was a man such as you, Benjamin Cartwright.  He told this one many wise things when he was young.  These words were among them.  ‘When one asks for the moon, he often gets a handful of stardust.’”  The young man clutched his side as he drew a painful breath.  “Again, this one asks – one last time – will you free him from his debt and let him leave?”

Ben shook his head.

Hugh held his gaze for several heartbeats before bowing low.  Then he entered the guest room  and closed the door.

The sound of the lock being turned from the inside rang in Ben’s ears as a warning – one he feared he was a fool to ignore.

His father too had words of wisdom for his young son; most of them culled from the pages of the Bible.  One in particular came to him now.

‘He that troubleth his own house shall inherit the wind.’

He could only pray this particular wind wasn’t strong enough to blow the Ponderosa away.

**********

Ben was seated on the settee, lost in thought, when the front door opened to admit a burst of cold air as well as his elder sons.  He glanced at the clock as they entered and was startled to see that it was close to midnight.

His surprise must have registered on his face.

“Sorry we’re late,” Adam said as he closed the door and turned to hang his hat on the rack by the door.  “We didn’t mean to keep you up.”

“You didn’t.”  Ben inclined his head toward the guest-room. “That would be our unexpected visitor.”

“Trouble?” his eldest asked as he moved to the blue chair by the fire.

“No.  At least not yet.”

“What do you mean by that?” Hoss asked as crossed to the hearth and held his hands out over the fire to warm them.

The rancher’s pursed his lips.  “It’s my opinion that Hugh has a secret. I’m afraid my attempt to pry it out of him met with little success.”

“Has he talked to Little Joe?” Adam asked.

“Not that your brother has said, but then I didn’t ask Joe directly.”

“Little Joe’s awful good at keepin’ things close when he’s got a mind to,” Hoss said.

“I don’t believe your brother knows anything more than I do, though I could be wrong.”  Ben rose and stretched before moving to his much more comfortable chair by the fire, where he dropped into it with a sigh.  His late wife had loved that settee, but it was not built for a man his size!  “Hugh tells me he’s alone.  He says his family is dead.  I don’t believe that.  I think he has….  No, I’m sure he believes that he has dishonored them somehow.”

“By doing what?” Adam asked.

“Hard to say, but he’s definitely on the run.  He’s a seaman or more likely a privateer, so it could be the law.”

“Hugh’s a pirate?”  Hoss’ sky-blue eyes went wide.  “There’s Chinese pirates?”

“There have been Chinese pirates for centuries,” Adam explained.  “One of the most notorious was a woman.  Her name was Ching Shih.  She died a few years back.”

“A woman pirate!?”

Ben knew of Ching Shih.  She’d been active when he sailed the seas.  Her name was seldom spoken aboard a sailing ship for fear an ill-wind would blow, driving them off-course or snapping the mainmast.  At one time the formidable woman had commanded a vast flotilla of junks known as the Red Fleet.

He was grateful he and his mates had never crossed her path!

“Really, Hoss!”  Adam rolled his eyes.  “Why not a ‘woman’ pirate?  One day men will come to see that women are just as capable as they are – if not more so.”

“So what you’re tellin’ me, older brother, is that ‘one day’ some pretty little filly’s gonna be bustin’ broncos?

Ben thought it best to cut his son’s discourse short before it became too heated. “While the exact size of Ching Shih’s fleet remains unknown, it numbered in the hundreds, if not thousands.  She held absolute sway over the waters she traveled.  If a man broke one of her rules –”

His eldest made a cutting motion low on his throat.

“Really?”  Hoss swallowed over a lump of disbelief.

The rancher nodded.  “Really.  When you captain a crew of cut-throats, reprobates, and thieves, discipline is paramount – as well as ruthlessly swift.”

The big man looked toward the guest room.  “And you think Hugh…?”

Ben sighed.

“I think Hugh broke one of the rules.”

**********

Hugh backed away from the door he’d had his ear pressed against.

Close.  His most honorable hosts were close to discovering his secret.

A secret they must not become acquainted with.

The desperate young man turned toward the window.  He was slight in stature.  He could easily fit through the small opening and be gone before they knew.

Which, of course, they knew.

The darkness beyond the rippled glass panes beckoned.  It was the darkness of eternity.  In it, he would rest.

Or would he?

In eternity he would face the ancestors.  There those who had gone before would call upon him to account for the path he had chosen.  Would they pronounce him lost, he wondered, or would they instead show mercy and grant him another lifetime in which to make right all he had done wrong?  Would he be given the chance to atone, or would his many sins instead be visited upon those who came after him?  Was there nothing to stop the endless cycle of wickedness?  Would it reach into the grave and beyond?

He did not have the answers.

He needed the answers.

He was not going to find them here.

Hugh’s hand shot out to grip the bedpost as he took a stumbling step toward the window.  He remained there – unmoving – for a moment before using his hand to draw back the crimson coat he wore.

“Mã de…”  he exclaimed!

He was bleeding again.

Using the post as an anchor, Hugh cast himself on the bed.  Truth was truth.  He was in no condition to travel.  If those seeking him overtook him they would easily force from him where he had been and who had aided him.  Death would pay the price of the debt Ben Cartwright owed.  Even so he must remain – at least until he was healed.  The young man sighed.  When a boy, he would have called upon the ancestors for succor.  As a man, he could not.  The man he had become was dead to them.

And the dead could not call for help.

Hugh rose slowly.  He removed his ornate coat and tossed it over a nearby chair before returning to the bed.  The supple eider-down ticking was a luxury he cherished as he sank into it.  The feathery waves cradled his aching body, inviting sleep.

The white doctor had visited him the day before.  Mister Paul told him to rest for one more week.

One week.  Seven days.

On the eighth he would be gone.

**********

“Hey there, Adam,” a light voice remarked.

Adam turned – pitchfork in hand – to find his youngest brother leaning on the jamb of the door that led into the stable.

“What are you doing out here?” he asked, concern edging his voice.

“Hi, Joe,” the teenager replied as he cast his eyes toward the sky.  “Glad to see you, Joe.  How are you doing, Joe?’

The black-haired man chuckled.  “Sorry.  Did I sound like Pa?’

“You’ve got him down perfect.”  His brother moved past and dropped onto a bale of hay.  A bright coverlet blanketed Joe’s shoulders.  Little brother caught at the edge of it and pulled it close around his throat as he replied, “It sure is cold in here.”

“It’s warmer in the house.”  The remainder of the sentence went unspoken.  ‘Where you should be!’

“I know.  I saw Pa leave with Hoss and I…”  Joe blew out a breath.  “Well, I just had to get out of the house!”

Their father and brother had gone to call on a neighbor.

“Cabin fever?” Adam asked as he began to pitch hay into the empty stall.

“How’d you do it?”

“Do what?”

“Live in a tiny cabin with one room and everyone thrown in together?’

Adam lodged the pitchfork in the hay pile and went to sit on the bale by his brother.  “I guess after living in the back of a Conestoga wagon, I was able to count a small room with four walls as infinite space.”

“And yourself a king,” Joe added with a smile.

He returned it.  “You remember!”

“I like that one.  Hamlet, I mean.”

Hamlet was a tale of betrayal, murder, and unfettered ambition.  Of course Joe liked it!  The plot read like one of his penny dreadfuls.

Adam struck a dramatic pose.  “‘Oh God, I could be bounded in a nutshell and count myself a king of infinite space, were it not that I have bad dreams.’”

Joe’s demeanor changed.

“Are you having bad dreams, buddy?’

His brother, ever prone to nightmares, winced with the admission.  “Yeah….”

“Are they about what happened…in the settlement, I mean?”  He knew he had to tread carefully or the kid would bolt.  “You haven’t said much about it.”

“That’s ‘cause there isn’t much to say.”  Joe shrugged.  “I was an idiot.”

“So what?”  Adam chuckled at his brother’s look.  “We’ve all made idiots out of ourselves over a pretty girl at one time or another.”

Joe fell silent for a moment.  Then, without warning, he stood up and began to pace.  “Yeah, but I mean…married?  Tabby never said.  She….”  The teenager looked at him.  “I can’t really blame Knox, Adam.  If some man was sparking my wife, I would have flattened him too.”

“But not with a dozen men for back-up.”  Adam held his brother’s gaze.  “Joe, I hate to have to be the one to tell you this, but it was a set-up.  Tabitha and Knox have done it before.  They find a victim.  She tells them she wants a roll in the hay, but instead her husband shows up and they roll the dupe for all he or his family is worth.”

Joe’s dark eyebrows reached for the sky.  “So what you’re telling me is that I’m an idiot and a sap as well?!”

“You’re not a sap or an idiot.” Adam stood up.  “You’re…young.”

Joe snorted.  “And I suppose you are old and wise?!”

“Yes.”  ‘Very old at times’, he thought.  “Joe, I’m twelve years you senior.”

“And you never stop rubbing it in!”

Adam grimaced.  “Sorry.  I don’t mean to.”

That took a little of the wind out of the kid’s sails.

“You’re…sorry?”

“Mm-hm.  You have to understand.  It’s hard for older brothers too.  You see a kid you love making the same mistakes you made and you want to spare them the heartache and –”

“Give me a break!”  Joe made a dismissive gesture with his hand.  “The great Adam Cartwright doesn’t make mistakes!”

His eyes widened.  “Who told you that?”

“Well…everybody….”

“Well then, ‘everybody’ is wrong.  I’ve made plenty of mistakes.  The difference between being a boy and a man is that a man learns from them.”  He paused.  “What you have to decide is which you are.”

“I…  I want to be a man.”

“And you are well on your way.”  Adam approached his brother and circled his narrow shoulders with an arm.  “Now, I need you to do something for me to prove that you are a man.”

Those green eyes rolled again.  “I know.  Go inside.”

“You’re shivering,” he said as he released him.

“Aw….  Do I have to?”

Man?

Joe sounded so much like the four-year-old he remembered that Adam had to fight laughing out loud.

“Your choice,” the black-haired man said as he reached for his abandoned pitchfork.  “Another part of being a man is taking responsibility for your actions and their consequences…like, say, catching cold and Doc Martin ordering you to spend another week in bed.”

The wheels were turning in his brother’s head.  “How about if I stoke the fire and sit in front of it instead of going upstairs?”

“Your choice.  But remember, I have work to do.  I can’t guarantee I can give you a warning when Pa and Hoss get back.”

“And the consequence of Pa catching me out of bed….”

“Is yet another week in bed.”

Joe’s lips twisted.  “Is this what you meant when you said you studied logical thinking at college?”

He chuckled as he tossed a pitchfork of hay.  “So maybe higher education isn’t such a bad thing, eh, Joe?  …Joe??”

Adam turned to look.  His brother was gone.

“Thus conscience doth make cowards of us all,” the scholar quoted and then laughed out loud.

**********

A lone figure stood nearby, cloaked in the shadows cast by the low branches of the Ponderosa pines that surrounded Ben Cartwright’s grand house.  A boy had just passed their hiding place.  He had come from the house before and returned there now.  Inside the barn the other man – older but not old – began to sing as he went about his chores.  The stranger smiled at the sound and then left the shadows to follow the boy with the blanket.  There were others in the yard, going about their work.  These men were called ‘hands’.

They were occupied and easy to avoid.

The stranger watched as the shivering boy opened the door and went in, counting to one hundred and twenty before exchanging the darkness of the leaves for the shadows that masked the large porch attached to the fine house.  Once within their embrace, they found a spot beneath the window and rose up to peer in.  There was little to see.  The boy sat beside the hearth, but rose almost as quickly to mount the stairs.  The stranger remained as they were, thinking.  Then they silently slipped off the porch and back into the shadow of the leaves.

To wait.

Sometime later, the sound of horses’ hooves striking packed earth roused the newcomer from semi-sleep.  They rose and peered through the leaves to find two men dismounting before the house.  The singing man had left the barn to greet them.  He waited, whistling, while the pair stabled their horses and then all three entered together.

The stranger followed them and returned to their position on the porch.  They watched until the men had ascended the stairs and the last light had been extinguished.  Certain now that they would not be seen; the stranger rose and walked to the barn.  Slender fingers lifted the latch and a pale hand pushed the door open.  Once within, they moved from stall to stall as if seeking something, finding it at last in the bay nearest the wall.  The well-muscled Morgan with its obsidian coat snorted and pawed the ground in excitement.

“Wǎnshàng,” the slender figure said while executing a deep bow.

Wanshang’s breath was a cloud that floated on the chill air.

The stranger glanced at the door before moving forward; a wary step carrying them into a beam of light. The sudden moonshine revealed its heavy cloak, finely-tooled leather boots, black velvet breeches, and tail-coat of deep-blue edged with gold.  Another step exposed a fine-boned face framed by ebon hair so long it cascaded to its tightly-bound waist in a shining river.

“The night is most auspicious,” the stranger remarked.  “This one prays the ancestors will continue to aid in their quest.

“Spilt water is most hard to retrieve.”

---

 

Chapter Five

 

Adam was sitting at the breakfast table, peacefully sipping a cup of coffee while waxing poetic about the blush of morning light striking the leaded crystal on the sideboard, when a loud crash brought him to his feet and sent him flying down the hall and into what he and his brother’s affectionately referred  to as ‘Hop Sing’s Palace’.

Only Hop Sing wasn’t there; it was Hoss.

Hoss, kneeling amidst the broken remains of one of their Chinese cook’s prized sgraffito pots.

“Uh oh,” he said.

The big man was pale as yesterday’s paste.  “How about we tell Hop Sing Little Joe did it?” he suggested.

“Joe’s in bed.”

“Well, Hop Sing don’t know that!”

Adam crouched beside his brother and fingered one of the broken pieces.  “This is the one that was gift from the prominent Italian chef who visited last year, isn’t it?”  The highly-glazed crockery, which had a yellow slip into which fanciful designs had been scratched to reveal the red ceramic beneath, also had a unique handle on one side.

Or it had.

“Dang it!”

“Why’d you choose to use this piece?”

“Look around, Adam.  All the other pots is dirty.”

The black-haired man rose to his feet and looked.  Hoss was right, they were.

“Who was assigned to kitchen duty during Hop Sing’s absence?” he asked, as if he didn’t know.

Hoss had risen and was dusting off his knees.  “That’d be Little Joe.”

Adam raised one ink-slash eyebrow.  “I know you have the same father I do, and I seem to remember him teaching me not to lie.  I also remember Pa reassigned that particular chore when little brother came home laid-up.”

“I ain’t had the time!”  Hoss kicked one of the shards and then seemed to regret it as he chased it across the floor.  “Pa’s got me ridin’ fence on top of doin’ all of….”  His nose wrinkled with despair as he picked up the broken piece and eyed it. “Well, doin’ most of Little Joe’s chores.”

“If you’d told me, I could have helped you clean up while Pa was away.”  Their father had ridden into the settlement the night before for another mine meeting.  He was due home any time now.  Adam surveyed the chain of dirty crockery leading from the table to the dry sink.  “Is this all from last night and this morning?”

“Dang it, Adam, I feel like I’m gonna starve to death’!” Hoss placed the shard on the surface of the butcher’s block.  “When’s Hop Sing due back anyway?”

Adam shrugged.  “He didn’t say.”

Hop Sing’s departure had been somewhat mysterious to say the least.

The knock on the door that night startled them all.  It was after dark and hard to imagine anyone traveling the uncertain path to the Ponderosa to pay a visit.  Why not wait until morning?  The answer, of course, was that whoever it was bore some kind of news that could not wait.  Their father answered the door with some trepidation only to find an Asian man standing on the porch.  He had come to deliver a telegram.  The man left without waiting for an answer.

To their surprise, the envelope was addressed to Hop Sing.

Pa shouted and Hop Sing shouted back and then appeared a few minutes later.  The exasperated cook frowned upon being told the reason for the summons.  He held the telegram in his hand a full minute before opening it and reading its contents.

Then he returned to the kitchen.

Without explanation.

When supper was over and the dishes cleared away Hop Sing reappeared, this time to ask for a leave of an indeterminate amount of days.  Pa granted it, of course.  Hop Sing rarely asked for anything.

He was gone the next morning.

Hoss blanched.  “Pa ‘didn’t say’?” The groan that followed was worthy of Goethe’s hero in The Sorrows of Young Werther.  “Dagblameit!  Tell me you don’t mean it!.”

The older man chuckled.  “You’ll live though, once Hop Sing sees his pot, you might not eat for a month or two.”  He began to gather up the pieces of broken crockery.  “Look on the bright side middle brother, you were just saying the other day that you wished you could move your belt in a notch or two.”

“That was so’s Little Joe wouldn’t pull it and my trousers off!”  The big man watched his progress for several heartbeats before adding with a sigh. “Leave it be, Adam.  There ain’t no way to save that pot.”

“You never know,” he replied as he placed several pieces on the block table. “Miracles do happen.”

“Oh, ho ho!” an impish voice remarked with glee.  “Hop Sing’s gonna have your hide for breaking that one!”

Hoss whirled with his beefy hands positioned to wring a chicken’s neck.  “Dang your ornery hide, little brother!  If’n you’d of done your chores like you was s’posed to….”

Joe coughed and then coughed again.  “Who me?” he asked as he pulled both sides of his nightshirt close under his chin.  “I’m sick.”

“I’ll show you sick – ”

“Boys.  Boys!”  Adam stepped between the pair and placed a restraining hand on each. “I would like to remind you that our father is due home in a few hours and,” he glanced around with meaning, “from the look of things there’s more than just a few hours work needed to set this place right.”

“Not if all three of us pitch in,” Joe suggested.

“Me?”  Adam shook his head.  “Oh, no!  Kitchen duty is not on my roster.  I need my sleep.  I have to get up early and ride to the mine.”

“And I got me fences to check,” Hoss declared.

“And I,” Joe reminded them, “have to check in on Hugh.”

It had been four days.  Each time one of them looked in on the Asian man, their unexpected guest seemed to grow more sullen.

“’Check’ on him or make sure he hasn’t flown the coop?’ Adam inquired.

Joe blew out a breath.  “You got that right!  He’s a tough nut to crack, so…both.  At least his wound isn’t bleeding anymore.  It looks like – ”

The three of them pivoted toward the kitchen entryway as a knock sounded on the front door.

Then – as one – they took off like a shot.

It was a miracle they didn’t end up in a pile on the floor.

Joe made it to the door first and opened it to reveal a familiar figure.  “Hey, Deputy Roy!” he declared as he stepped out of the way to let the lawman enter.

Roy tipped his dove-gray hat.  “Mornin’, Adam, Hoss.  Little Joe, looks to me like you’re just about mended!”

“I’m…cough…getting there…cough,” Joe replied with a glance at the two of them.

Adam chuckled.

Little brother knew better than to lose his leverage.

“What brings you out this way, Roy?” Adam asked.

The deputy glanced to the left.  “Your house guest still here?’

“He sure enough is,” Hoss replied.  “Why?  You come to talk to Hugh?”

Roy inclined his head toward Joe.  “He fit as a fiddle like this one here?’

Adam chuckled.  “Not quite.  The bleeding has stopped, but Doctor Martin is worried that Hugh’s still carrying a fever.  It was a deep wound and he fears infectivity.”

“Got himself a high one, does he?”

“Not high, but definitely not low either,” the elder Cartwright son said, wondering where this was leading.  “The last time I checked on him, Hugh was sleeping. Why?  Do you want to talk to him?”

The deputy shook his head.  “Nope.  It’s more like I was wonderin’ if you and I could talk without that China man hearin’.  From what you say, sounds like now is as good a time as any.”

Oh.

“Just Adam?” Joe asked; his tone that of a petulant five-year-old who found the prize and had just been informed he wasn’t going to be allowed to keep it.

“Adam can fill you in later.”  Roy indicated the guest-room again.  “I need you and Hoss to keep your guest busy so he don’t surprise us.”

“Is Hugh in trouble?” little brother asked.

The lawman hesitated. “That’s what I am here to find out.”

**********

Adam frowned.  He and Roy had moved into his father’s office and were both seated.  “So what you’re telling me – if I understand it correctly – is that there have been a number of ‘strange’ Chinese seen in the settlement over the last few days who don’t belong there?”  He rested his hands on the desk.  “Is there a reason you think their appearance has something to do with Hugh?’

“I cain’t be sure, but I got my suspicions,” the lawman replied.  “Them strangers is askin’ everyone hereabouts if they seen a skinny young China man wearin’ a dark red coat with gold trim.  When I saw Ben in the settlement, he mentioned Hugh had one.”

“How do you know these men don’t have relatives in Chinatown?”  Adam asked.  “And what exactly is it that makes them ‘strange’?”

“On account of they don’t dress like no ranch hands, miners, or city folk!  Jim Daugherty, what runs the mercantile, took ‘em for a troupe of players.”  The deputy paused.  “Come to think of it, they kinda look like them men in the drawin’s in that book your pa got you last Christmas.”

“You mean The Dream of the Red Chamber?’

Roy’s mustache danced with amusement as his graying eyebrows wiggled. “That book about what it sounds like it’s about?”

It took a second – and that would be a second thinking like a lawman.

“Not that kind of ‘red’,” he replied with a chuckle.  “The novel is an epic about a Chinese family in Peking.”  The leather-bound book included illustrations of Asian men and women in various forms of dress, one being long red coats – though the coats in consideration were different from the one he had seen lying across the foot of Hugh’s borrowed bed.  “In other words, these Asian men look particularly exotic?  Odd?  Well-off, perhaps?’

“That and everythin’ else you said.”  Roy scowled.  “But most of all what they look is determined.  If it’s your fella they’re after – and I think it is – they ain’t gonna stop ‘til they find him.”

“Any idea why they are so…determined?”

“I ain’t got a clue – and that means somethin’ comin’ from a lawman.”  The older man paused. “Come to think of it, there’s another thing they look.”

“What’s that? Adam asked.

The deputy held his gaze.

“Dangerous.”

**********

Joe turned to the man at his side and asked, “Are you sure you’re well enough to do this?”

While visiting Hugh he’d mentioned the kitchen was in need of tidying up and the Asian man had offered to help.

Hugh grunted his assent as he wrung out a dishcloth.

While his dish-washing companion was anything but ‘loquacious’, as Adam would have put it, it was great to have someone to share the hated chore.  He and Hoss had talked and decided that giving Hugh something to do was probably the best way of keeping him out of the main house – and trouble.

“You washed dishes before?’ Joe asked.

“Many times.  In my father’s house and when first aboard the Shadow Lotus.”

“Is that the name of a ship?”

“Yes.”

“Is it a…pirate ship?”

Hugh glanced at him as he plunged the cloth into fresh water.  A slight smile curled the Asian man’s lips. “Why?  Does this one look like a pirate?’

Joe put down the plate he was holding and took a step back.  At the moment Hugh looked about as dangerous as the dishrag he held.  Still, there was something about the other man; a kind of power purposefully contained.

“Maybe a tired one,” he replied with a grin.

Hugh hung the cloth on the drying rack before taking a seat.  “This one is weary,” he admitted.  “Weary of living.”

Joe dropped what he was holding to pull up a chair and sit beside his newfound friend.  “You sound like a man whose carrying a heavy burden; one that’s…maybe…too big for one man’s shoulders.  You ever think about sharing it?”

Hugh shook his head.  “This one cannot.  It would not be safe.”

“Safe?”  The teen snorted.  “You think moving cattle over a swollen river in flood season is safe?  How about taking on a bronco that’s already thrown a dozen men – and maybe killed one or two?”  When Hugh said nothing, he added, “I admitted what frightens me.  How about you do the same?”

Hugh sought his gaze.  “If you wish, this one will tell you a tale – one of a boy who believed he was wiser than his elders.”

“Sounds like just about every ‘boy’ I know!”

“Are you such a boy?’

“I have been,” Joe admitted with chagrin. “Or maybe I should say, I would have been if I hadn’t had two older brothers to knock some sense into me.”

A spark of deep-seated pain flashed in Hugh’s obsidian eyes.  “This boy too had older brothers. The eldest attempted to ‘knock some sense’ into the young one’s head.  He paid no heed.”  Hugh rose.  He crossed to the kitchen hearth where he stood, staring at the dying coals. “This boy brought dishonor to all.”

“To your family, you mean?”

“This one has no family.”

“But you have to!  Everybody does,” Joe protested.

The Asian man was near the butcher-block table.  He picked up one of the shards of the red-ware pot Hoss had smashed.

“There are some things that cannot be mended,” he asserted as his fingers closed about it.

“How do you know that?  Have you tried?”  Joe went to his side.  “Look at me.  I’ve given my family enough grief for two lifetimes, but they always forgive me and welcome me back.”

Hugh’s eyes seemed darker than before, as if they reflected some secret knowledge.  “Have you sacked towns?” he snarled unexpectedly.  “Have you slit the throats of fathers and had your way with their wives before their children’s eyes?”  The Asian man moved – so fast he didn’t see it.  Before Joe knew it the tip of the jagged pottery shard was pressed into the tender flesh beneath his chin.  “Have you taken pleasure in another man’s dying cry?”

The Asian man held him close for a moment before thrusting him away. Joe stumbled, but managed to catch himself.  He placed a shaky hand on the table.

He had to know.

“Have you?”

Hugh dropped the shard.  He stared at it where it lay on the floor before looking up.

There were tears in his eyes.

“What this one has not done he has sanctioned or condoned.  This one carries the guilt of those he has lived among.”  Hugh’s words had become a tortured whisper.  “This one cannot sleep for fear of seeing the faces of those he chose not to save.”

Joe was chilled to the bone.  That last bit had taken just about everything he had left.  He sat down hard.

“So how come you saved me, if you’re such a monster?”

Hugh scoffed.  “This one is no monster.  This one is a man and that is worse.”

“You didn’t answer me,” the teenager countered.  “Why would an evil man risk his life to save a stranger?  You could have been killed in that alley – you almost were!  If you’re that bad you would have let Knox finish me off.”

Hugh’s remaining energy seemed to desert him, leaving him pale and trembling.  “You are very young. Joseph Cartwright.”

“Yeah, I’m a baby compared to you,” he scoffed.  “You’re what?  Twenty?  Maybe?”

“This one admits we are much the same in years, but it is there all similarity ends.  This one has seen more in nineteen years than one like you will see in ninety.”  Hugh ran a hand across his eyes before looking at him again.  “As to ‘why’ this one saved you, the only answer he knows is this: he has seen too many men die.  He could not watch one more.”

Joe rubbed the skin under his neck where the pottery shard had nicked it. “Why’d you do that?” he asked as he swallowed over a lump of fear.

“Why did this one do what?”

He indicated his throat.  “What you did a minute ago, with the shard?”

“Ah.  This one did so to make you understand; in the hope that you will let him go.”

“You want to leave?’

“’Want’ has no part in it.  This one must.  Those who seek him must not find him here.”

“The Chinese pirates, you mean?”

“Pirates, privateers, brigands or thieves.  It matters little what you call them.  This one took…something of great value from them.”

“What’d you take?  Some sort of treasure?”

“What you do not know you cannot say – or be made to say.” Hugh headed for dining room.  “And now, my friend, this one must go!”

Joe caught him by the elbow.  “You can’t go that way,” he said.  “I mean, you shouldn’t.  Deputy Coffee’s in the office talking to Adam.”

The Asian man stiffened.  “I did not see him.”

“They hid out when we left your room.”

“He is here to talk about this one?”

“It has something to do with you – or whoever is after you.”  Joe inclined his head toward the dry sink, still brimful of dishes.  “Roy wanted to tell Adam first so I don’t know all of the details.”

“Can this one leave through this door?”

Joe followed as the Asian man headed for the door that opened onto the back of the house and Hop Sing’s garden.”  “Wait!” he cried.  “Don’t you need your things?  What about the ‘prize’ you took from the pirates?”

Hugh stopped.  He placed a hand on his heart as he turned toward him. “This one needs nothing.  As to Hui Fu’s ‘prize’, he carries it with him no matter where he goes.”

“Okay,” Joe replied, trying to think of something else to delay his friend.  “Take me with you then.  I want to help.”

The Asian man opened the door.  “It is this one’s prayer that you never cross a river in the same boat as him, Joseph Cartwright.  It is best that you forget Hé Hui Fu. You must think of this one as nothing more than a cloud-shadow that has passed so the sun may shine.”

As the Asian man stepped out the door, it hit him – Hé Hui Fu.

Hé?  Wasn’t that ‘Hop’ in Mandarin?

Hugh had the same last name as Hop Sing?

Gosh, could they be brothers?

Unfortunately, that wasn’t the only thing that hit Little Joe Cartwright.  The second one was the backside of a copper skillet.

It came down hard on Joe’s head unexpectedly, putting out the light.

**********

“Hey, Adam!  You seen Joe?”  Hoss came out of the kitchen wing munching on a cold cut of ham.  “Little brother sure did a poor job cleaning up ol’ Hop Sing’s palace.  There’s dirty dishes everywhere.  Pa’s gonna throw a fit when he sees ‘em!”

“Oh?”  Adam put down the light-hearted book he’d just picked up.  Deputy Roy had left after dispensing his gloom some ten or fifteen minutes before and he’d felt the need to concentrate on something cheerful.  “I thought Joe was keeping Hugh busy in the kitchen?”

The big man shrugged.  “I cain’t find Hugh neither.”

A thrill of something – worry or, perhaps, terror – ran along Adam’s spine.  “You can’t find either of them?”

“Nope.  There’s nothin’ in the kitchen but a bunch of dirty dishes and a couple of wash rags on the floor.  You think maybe they went out to the barn?  Joe sure enough was interested in that pitch-black Morgan of his.”

Maybe.

But, most likely not.

The black-haired man crossed to his brother.  “Go check the barn,” he ordered as he took the plate from Hoss’ hands and sat it on the sofa table.

The big man swallowed the last of the ham.  “What are you gonna do?”

Adam winced.  If what he thought had happened had happened, there was only one thing to do.

Panic!

**********

Joe’s head was ringing.   Or no, maybe someone was singing.

If someone was singing whoever it was needed to look for a different job.

“You are awake?”

“What?” the teenager demanded.

“Keep your voice down!  And do not open your eyes.  He must not know you are awake.”

“He…who?”

“Chen-mo.”

Joe stifled a groan.  “No…uh…who are you?”

“It is Hui.”

Thinking made his brain hurt, so he preferred not to do it.   “Hugh…who?”

“This one has been a guest in your house for the last few days.”

The teenager’s head pounded harder with every thought.  Hugh was their…guest?  Joe made an attempt to think past the pain.  He’d been in the kitchen.  The back door had opened.  Someone came through it and then, a minute later, he was lying face down on the floor.

He’d been alone in the house, hadn’t he?

No.  There was another man – outside the door – fighting with someone.

He hadn’t been alone.  He’d been with Hop Hugh Fu!

Little Joe twisted to look, but he could barely see the man he was bound too.  Someone had tied them to either side of a tree.  The ropes went through their elbows and around their chests, ending up in a big old uncomfortable knot at the back of the head.

Without warning a boot made contact with his side, jolting Joe out of his stupor.

“So!  You are awake yáng guǐzi!”

Oops!  Guess he ran his mouth too much.  Whoever ‘he’ was, he definitely knew they were both awake!

“This one asked a question.  You will answer him now!”

“Do not show fear,” Hugh prompted, his voice hushed.

Why would he show fear?

Should he be afraid?

Joe blinked back nausea as he attempted to focus on the man who loomed above him.

Show no fear, eh?

“Yeah, I’m awake,” he responded, his voice hoarse with fatigue.  “Awake enough to see your ugly puss!”

“Perhaps a little more…fear?” his companion advised.

Chen-mo drew the short sword he wore anchored to his belt from its sheath and placed the blade under Joe’s chin.  With its point, he lifted the teenager’s head until they saw ‘eye to eye’.

“I would mind your tongue, pàntú, if you wish to retain your head.”

Joe nodded.

Tentatively.

“Yōuxiù.  Excellent.”

The teenager looked over the blade’s edge at Chen-mo.  What he found was startling.  The pirate was tall for an Asian – as tall as Adam or Pa – and powerfully built.  His skin was darker than Hugh’s or Hop Sing’s.  The pirate’s eyes were almond-shaped and of a peculiar color that reminded Joe of the chunk of dark Baltic amber his pa kept in his office.  Chen-mo’s coat was similar to the one Hugh owned, only it was longer and cut from an azure cloth instead of crimson.  It had a high starched collar decorated with silver and blue embroidery that was turned up. The coat’s wide cuffs were festooned in the same way, as were both lapels and what showed of the vest beneath.  Joe narrowed his eyes in an attempt to make out the design.  Once he had, he decided he was sorry he’d tried.

It was sharks.

“So, yáng guǐzi, what to do with you?”

Joe sought the man’s gaze and held it, projecting every bit of grit he had into it.  “I don’t know what that means, but my name is Joe.”

CChen-mo scoffed.  “Your name is known to us, Joseph Cartwright, as is your family’s.”

There was something about the way the pirate said ‘family’ that sent shivers along Joe’s spine.

“What do you want with me and my family?” he shot back.  “Who are you?  Why am I here?”

Hugh faced their captor.  “Permission to answer the question of the yáng guǐzi, most honorable Chen-mo?”

The tall pirate nodded.

“What has brought you here, Little Joe Cartwright, is this unworthy one’s weakness.  Hé Huī Fù should not have remained in your home.”

“But you were hurt!” Joe countered sharply.  “What were we supposed to do, let you lie in the dirt and die?”

The tip of the sword bit into his skin. “You saved the life of this pàntú?” Chen-mo demanded.

Hugh made a sound.

It was not a hopeful one.

Joe realized his bravado would be more convincing without the quaver in his voice.  “Sure I did.  So…what?”

The tall pirate leaned in.  “Do you know what ‘pàntú’ means, yáng guǐzi?”

Joe sighed.  Both were Mandarin, but they were terms Hop Sing had never used.

Not that that was surprising considering their source.

“No.”

CChen-mo removed the sword and sheathed it.  He swept the scabbard back as he crouched. “The one you are bound to is a traitor to his own, a ‘pàntú’.  The pirate used one finger to poke the breast of Joe’s striped nightshirt.  “You are a foreign devil, a yáng guǐzi.  You will share his punishment for continuing his life.”

In Joe’s opinion there was considerable debate as to which one of them was a ‘devil’, but he let that slide.

“So what you’re telling me is that I should have let a man die?  If that’s in your pirate code, it’s wrong!”  Joe’s voice shook with righteous anger.  “My pa sailed the seas and he taught me that its first law is to assist those in distress!”

“He is young, Chen-mo,” Hugh interjected.  “You must forgive the nan hai for his disrespect.”

Joe looked behind as he pushed an elbow into Hugh’s side, making the Asian man grunt.  “I can speak for myself.  And I’m not all that much younger than you are!”  The teenager fell silent as the tall pirate’s fingers encircled his throat and forced him to the front.

What he saw scared him near out of his skin.  Chen-mo was smiling.

It wasn’t a pretty sight.

“Perhaps, I will not take the nan hai’s head off after all,” he said.  “This young one would make quite a pirate!”

“So Chen-mo thought of another boy many years ago,” someone remarked.  The newcomer’s voice was….unexpected.  It was husky but light, and laced with both humor and regret.  “It is to this one’s eternal sorrow that he was wrong.

Hugh breathed a name.  ‘Jing-rou.’

Joe didn’t know why the sound of it chilled him, but it did.  “Who is Jing-rou?” he asked, his words hushed.

The beautiful Chinese woman who had knelt at Hugh’s side looked directly at him.

“This one is Hé Hui Fu’s captain.”

 

---

 

Chapter Six

 

“What do you mean your brother is missing?!” Ben Cartwright roared.

He and Hoss winced at the thunder in that voice.

“I mean Joe’s missing,” Adam replied, seeking to calm the storm of their father’s anger.  “So is Hugh, so the fact that they are gone doesn’t necessarily mean there is anything…well, nefarious about their disappearance.”

The older man’s black stare was piercing.  “Oh? And why not?”

“You know Joe….”  He paused to rephrase what he had been about to say.  “Little brother was getting antsy.  He’s been cooped up for nearly a week.  Maybe he and Hugh took off on some grand adventure.”

“Yeah, an adventure,” Hoss echoed.  “And forgot to tell us they was goin’.”

“Do you really believe that?”

Adam bit back his reply.  No, he didn’t.  But pretending that he did was better than greeting his father first thing in the door with the suspicion that baby brother had been kidnapped by Chinese privateers!

“Was that a sigh?” Pa demanded.

Damn!

“Hoss!”  Their father pointed toward the yard.  “I passed Roy on the road home.  Saddle up Chubb and fetch him!  We need someone with better skills than any of us have to take a look at the last place Little Joe was seen.”  The older man skewered him with ‘that look’ as middle brother beat a hasty – and welcome – retreat out of the door.  “I take it you do know where that is?”

Pa would never blame him, no matter what the outcome.  Adam knew that.  No such words would ever cross his father’s lips.  Still, he could read the older man’s thoughts, subtly concealed in the depths of those inimitable eyes.

Why had he not done his job to keep the young scamp safe?

A hand landed on his shoulder, startling him from his reverie.   “I’m sorry, son,” the older man said.  “I’m not blaming you.  You understand that?”

“Yes, sir,” Adam said as he always did.

It was, of course, a lie.

And they both knew it.

“I mean it, Adam,” his father said as if reading his thoughts.  “You and I both know that your youngest brother is more than a handful.”

Adam made a face.  “Actually Joe’s been on his best behavior lately.  The last time we saw the two of them, he and Hugh were cleaning up in the kitchen.”

“Hugh is out of bed as well?”

“Yes, sir.  Hugh had grown tired of being confined and asked if he could help when Joe mentioned the kitchen needed a bit of…tidying.”

“What wrong with Hop Sing’s kitchen?!” a strident voice demanded.

“Er…hi, Hop Sing,” Adam responded as the Asian man stepped through the door.

“Hop Sing’s stage arrived just as I was leaving the settlement, so we came home together,” his father explained. “We’ll need to take the buckboard back the next time we visit.  I rented it from the livery.”

Adam looked down.  Hop Sing was poking his arm.  “Mistah Adam tell Hop Sing what wrong with kitchen!”

“There’s nothing ‘wrong’ with the kitchen.  It just needs a little…sorting out.”

The Asian man’s eyes narrowed with suspicion. “If Little Joe in bed and can no take care of it, why Mistah Hoss not keep kitchen clean?”

“Hoss has been riding fence…a lot…lately.”

“So, Mistah Adam have no hands?”

He glanced at his father, but there was no help there.  “I’ve been making daily trips to the Justice.  I haven’t had the time.”

“No one have time!  No one to clean, but someone to cook and eat plenty Hop Sing bets!”  A long string of Mandarin words followed the Asian man as he headed into the dining room.  “Fine way welcome this one home!”

“Er, Pa.”  At his father’s look Adam asked, “Aren’t you going to stop him?”

Pa winced.  “Er, Hop Sing?” he called.

The Asian man turned back. “What Mistah Cartwright need that more important than Hop Sing making everything right with kitchen?”

“You’ll have to leave the kitchen as it is for the moment.  Hoss has gone to fetch Roy.  He’ll need to take a look at…” Pa swallowed hard “…the scene of the crime.”

“What crime you talk about?’

“The young man, the one I told you saved Joe’s life and was here, recuperating?  He’s missing as is Joseph.”

“The last time any of us saw Hugh or Little Joe, they were in the kitchen,” Adam added in explanation.

“In kitchen not washing dishes,” their cook growled.

“Actually, they were, or so Hoss said.”

“Hop Sing go in kitchen and check now.”  He stopped Pa with a look. “Make check only.  Not touch anything.”

Adam grimaced.  “Er, Hop Sing?”

“What now?” the Asian man snapped.

“There was an accident.  One of your cook pots was broken.”  He winced.  “We kept the pieces.”

You would have thought he’d told the cook that one of his relatives had died.

“Which pot?”

There was nothing to do but fess up.

“The glazed one from Italy.”

From the look of things, it might be one of them who died instead.

Hop Sing exploded, filling the air with words best not translated as he disappeared around the corner.

Adam turned toward his father.  “That went well, don’t you think?”

**********

“Hop Sing.  We’re coming in.”

The Asian man looked up from the shard of pottery he was holding.  He drew a breath, reminding himself that it had not been broken on purpose or with menace, and that there were more important things to consider – such as the disappearance of Little Joe and the man who had saved the life of his beloved boy.  His gaze went to the dry sink – filled with unwashed dishes – and moved on to assess the general chaos of his domain.  It was his hope that during Deputy Coffee’s interview the front door would open and Ben Cartwright’s number three son would walk in with a smile on his face, completely unaware of the concern his absence had caused.

It was his hope, but it was not likely.

“Howdy do, Hop Sing!” Roy Coffee said with a tip of his pale hat.  “You have a good time…wherever it was you went.”

“Hop Sing spend time with family.  Family fine.”

The lawman looked at him as if he knew there was more to the story, but went on, “It’s always good to spend time with those who mean somethin’ to us.”  The lawman looked around.  “Kitchen ain’t quite up to your normal standards, is it?’ he asked with a smile.

That quickly died.

“Er, right.”  The older man headed for the dry sink.  He tapped the top pot, which was turned upside-down.  “So this is the last place you saw your brother?” he asked Adam.

“I didn’t.”  Adam indicated the mountainous man behind him. “Hoss did.”

“They was standin’ right there,” he said.  “Little Joe and Hugh.”

Mistah Cartwright had explained honored guest was Asian, so the English name confused him.  It was not a name the Ancestors would have approved of.  Grateful as he was to the young man who had saved Mistah Joe’s life, there was something in the telling of the tale that left him unsettled and he did not know why.

Hoss moved to the sink where he picked up a dirty red and white towel cast over its side.  “Little Joe was holdin’ this and the pair of them was talkin’.  I go me a snack and left to go ride fence.  That was the last I seen of either of ‘em.”

“Adam?” Mistah Ben prompted.

“I was with Roy.” He nodded toward the deputy.

The settlement’s lawman was like a bào or leopard, prowling; always in motion.  Deputy Roy moved through the kitchen with eyes of suspicion.  When he reach the back door that leads to garden, he stop and turn back.

“You normally leave this unlocked?’

He shook his head.  “Hop Sing never leave door to garden unlocked.”

Deputy Roy pinched the latch and gave it a gentle push.  The door swung open.  “Well, it’s unlocked now.”

The lawman stepped aside so he could examine the door and jamb himself.

Hop Sing looked at him sideways.  “Deputy Roy wrong.”

“Eh?”

“Door not unlocked.  Lock broken.”

Roy looked again.  “Well, I’ll be horn-swaggled!  It sure is.”  The lawman opened the door all the way and stepped outside.  He was gone a minute or two.  “There’s plenty of footprints leading out and only a couple leadin’ in,” he said upon his return.  “Looks to me like someone was draggin’ someone else, and another one was carryin’ somethin’ heavy.”  The older man made a face.  “Sorry about your garden, Hop Sing.  You’re gonna have to plant some of them herbs again.”

Mistah Ben spoke, his voice hushed with fear.  “So what you’re saying is that someone forcibly took Joseph and Hugh?’

“That’d be my guess.”  Deputy Roy headed for the dining room.  He stopped just short of entering it.  “I got another deputy with me, Ben.  He’s waitin’ out front.  I’m gonna bring him in and see what he says.  If he thinks what I think, it looks like we got ourselves a search party to rustle up.”

“Will you go to the settlement?” Mistah Adam asked.

“Most like.”

“I’ll come with you.”

“Me too,” Hoss declared.  “Unless you need me here, Pa.”

Hop Sing carefully observed his employer and friend.  Mistah Ben stood still, stroking his chin; a sign that he was deeply troubled.

“Yes.  Yes, both of you can go.  I’ll wait here in the hope that your brother turns up.  If he doesn’t by tomorrow morning, I’ll find you.”

Mistahs Adam and Hoss nodded.  “Don’t you worry, Pa.  Joe will be fine,” Adam assured his father.  “Yeah, Pa,” Hoss added as the pair prepared to follow the lawman.  “You know that little scamp.  He’ll come home soon as he makes a mind to.”

Their words were kind but empty.

As soon was the house.

The silence remained as Mistah Ben walked to the dry sink and picked up the towel number three son had used last.  The worried father held it close, as if somehow the cloth could communicate what had happened and name of the one who had taken Mistah Little Joe.  Hop Sing respected his friend and employer’s pain.  He remembered the wise words of his father.  ‘Once spoken, words become a mountain.’

Sometimes, a mountain too high to scale.

“That boy,” Mistah Ben sighed.  “I can’t leave him alone for a minute.”

“Boy not alone.  Brothers home, and new friend.”

“Yes.”  The rancher turned to look at him. “That’s what troubles me most.  If someone was being dragged and someone else carried, that suggests that whoever broke in took both Joseph and Hugh.  Why?  They barely know each other.”  Mistah Ben looked around before asking.  “Have you noticed anything missing?’

“Only boys,” he replied with a sad shake of his head.

“So we can rule out a robbery gone wrong.  That strongly suggests that the object of this home invasion was either Joseph or Hugh, and that one or the other one of them was simply caught up in whatever was happening.”

“Why someone take Mistah Little Joe?’

Mistah Ben paled.  “Money.  Power over me.”

“What about house guest?’

Ben grunted.  “It’s never wise to take a man with a secret into your home, but what could I do?  Hugh saved Joseph’s life while putting his own in danger.  I couldn’t simply abandon the boy because I feared what might occur.”

“What exactly did Mistah Ben fear?”

His employer and friend took a seat by the butcher’s block table.  He picked up one of the shards of pottery lying on its top and nervously fingered it, turning the broken piece over and over again. “Our ‘house guest’ kept his past close, but he let a few things slip.  I know he was a seaman.  I suspect it was as a privateer.  That expensive crimson coat with its black and gold trim and bold brass buttons doesn’t belong to the member of any sailing ship I know!  He was full Chinese, so far as I could tell.  A handsome lad.  He put me in mind of someone the moment I laid eyes on him, though I couldn’t imagine…who….”

Mistah Ben’s fingers were still.  He was looking at him.

Hop Sing looked behind.  Seeing nothing, he turned back.  “House guest put Mistah Ben in mind of who?”

“You.”  The older man stood and walked over to him.  “Hugh looks like you – a younger you, but definitely you.  Now that I think of it, he could be your younger brother.”

As a boy Hop Sing was taught the myths of his people.  One was of Nuwa and how she mended the sky.  The world was in turmoil.  The pillars supporting the heavens had collapsed, bringing about floods and other disasters that threatened to destroy everything.

The pillars of his world had just fallen, threatening to destroy the ones he loved.

**********

Adam Cartwright crossed his arms and tapped the toe of his black boot in an attempt to redirect his frustration.  They’d reached the settlement a few hours back.  Roy had sent him, Hoss, and his junior deputy into the streets to collect men for a search party.  The men were gathered outside of the Soap Saloon, ready and eager to be on the trail of whoever had taken Joe and Hugh.  He’d just given Hoss instructions and intended to ride back to the Ponderosa.

So what did the deputy do when he arrived?

Took him by the arm and dragged him out of the street and into the jail.  Then Roy ignored him as he sat down and began to rummage through the papers piled high on his desk.

There had better be a good reason for his action.

“Roy….”

The lawman raised a hand.  “Hold your horses, Adam. I’m lookin’ for somethin’.”

“I’d rather be looking for my brother.”

Roy eyed him.  The look pretty much proclaimed him an idiot.

“What do you think I’m doin’?  Readin’ a book?”

The black-haired man rolled his eyes as he leaned back in the chair.  “You are not going to find Joe in a pile of papers!”

“Nope.  But I did find this!”  Roy held up a handwritten note.  “Came to me by way of a lawman friend in Stockton.”

“And…?”

The lawman needed glasses but refused to get them, so he had to squint mightily to read the writer’s scrawl.

“Let me see.  ‘Prettier gal you ain’t never….  Drunk as a skunk….’  No, that ain’t it.”  He continued to recite the lines like an actor in a reader’s theater.  “’…month of Sundays….  Harbor….  Ship came in…’.”  He snapped his fingers.  “Here it is.  Now you listen to this.

“‘I tell you Roy, I ain’t never seen a sight like it.  Someone said it was a multi-masted junk.  The dang thing had flags and pennants flyin’ high and thicker than a pack of pigeons!  The ship’s riggin’ was elaborate as a spider’s web, only there weren’t no spider hangin’ from them ropes.  The crew used them instead to show the power they was weildin’ by hangin’ swords, sabers and spears from the hemp.  There had to be more than a dozen cannons showin’ outa her portals and just as many swivel guns linin’ the upper deck.  Someone said her name was Moon Shadow.  That fit her on account of her hull was painted black, but the painted decoration and carvings was pure silver.  The man I was talkin’ to said she was a privateer, fresh in from the open seas.  I’m tellin’ you, Roy, that ship was like no other I ever seen before.  Never seen anythin’ like the men sailin’ her either.  There was a big Chinaman seemed to be in charge, and a dozen more takin’ orders.  They spread out like a cancer through the town askin’ everyone they met if they’d seen a young’un looked like them, went by the name of ‘Hui’.’”

Roy looked over the top of the letter at him.  “Sound familiar?”

“Hui?  You mean, Hugh?”

The lawman rose and came around the desk to lodge one hip on its well-used surface.  “If’n Hui and Hugh are one and the same; we’re lookin’ at a whole different corral of horse flesh here.  You’ve been to Frisco.  You know about the Chinese and their ways.”

“Hop Sing is Chinese,” he countered, somewhat indignant at the lawman’s implication that all Asians were alike.

“I know there’s good and bad among ‘em, just like with us white folks.  All I’m sayin’ is that if these men – ‘pirates’ some would call them – are the ones what took Little Joe and Hugh, we got to tread carefully.  We can’t just pin ‘em down and politely ask them to surrender.”  The lawman’s voice was edgy.  “That kind don’t surrender, and they don’t leave no one behind to tell the tale.”

Adam knew Roy was right.  After learning of the pirate queen, he’d done some additional research.  Ching Shih kept a tight ship and the way she did it was by beheading anyone who broke her rules – no matter how minor the infraction.  The least transgression – say, disobeying an order to swab the decks – was met with the same exacting punishment as a mutiny or murder.

Death.

“So what do we do, Roy?” he asked.  “We already have a search party assembled.  We can’t just politely ask them to go home.”

“I’m thinkin’ we let ‘em search, but we make sure someone’s in charge they respect who can rein them in if needed.  I think I’ll send most of them to look in the surroundin’ towns.”

“Is that where you think the privateers would take Joe and Hugh?  To a town with a port?’

“What I’m thinkin’ is we should send them on and then you and I go back to the Ponderosa to tell your pa what we know.  Maybe tell Hop Sing too.”

“Hoss too?”

Roy shook his head.  “I think Hoss oughta be the one leadin’ the search.”

“Okay.  I see that, though I’m not so sure he will.  Then it will be you and me and Pa looking closer to home?”

“We’ll follow the trail out your back door and see where it leads.”

“I have one question.”

“Shoot,” Roy said with a smile.

“Why would you want to tell Hop Sing about the privateers?’

“I was watchin’ him whiles I was lookin’ around the kitchen.  I think Hop Sing knows somethin’ that he ain’t tellin’, or at least ain’t told yet.”

“Surely you know that Hop Sing would never do anything to put Joe in harm’s way – or any of us for that matter.”

Roy indicated the letter he held.  “I didn’t read all of it.”

“Why?” Adam asked.

“On account of I wanted you to see it for yourself.”  He held it out.  “The name of the young man them pirates is lookin’ for is there.”

The black-haired man took the letter with trepidation.  He ran his finger down the page, jumping from line to line as Roy had, moving through the part the lawman had read until he reached the end.  When he did, he sucked in air.

Not Hugh, but Hé or Hop Hui Fu.

**********

Peace would not come.  Burning incense did not make a path for it.  Neither did uttering ancient prayers.  Last year’s blossoms – dry, withered, and devoid of life – lay scattered about Hop Sing’s feet.  They fell as he opened the doors to his household shrine in order to place a fresh offering of tea and food within.

The judgment of the ancestors was felt keenly in the silence that followed; a silence ripe with the voices of those who had gone before.

‘When the family is harmonious, all affairs will prosper.  Every family has its own difficult scriptures to recite.’

This moment was his scripture.

Many years had passed.  The world into which he had been born grew more and more distant in memory with each one.  Still, when he closed his eyes he could see the land from which he had departed; a fertile land that rose and fell with hills and valleys like the undulation of a dragon’s tail.  The dragon’s color was a verdant green and upon his back he bore lush forests dotted with flashes of color that were the faces of wild flowers turned toward the sun.  In his mind’s eye he saw a small boy run ahead of him to pluck a handful.  The dragon did not mind.  It rolled its blue belly toward the sun to become a ribbon of water that sparkled and sang with joy, celebrating the beauty of the day.

The small boy approached him and held out the bouquet.  ‘If I give you these, will you stay?”

“I cannot.”

“But why must you go?  I do not want you to go!’

“It is for the good of the family.”

‘But you are a part of the family.  How can you going far away be for its good?’

The boy was very young.  He did not understand that in order to provide food for him and for their siblings who remained at home, he must go where there was work.  Their homeland was deeply wounded; ravaged by greedy men in search of power.  These men cared little if the flowers that dotted the back of the great dragon lived or died.

If the people of their land lived or died.

The child’s face was a mirror of his own.  More than two decades separated them and yet they were more alike than any of the others born to their honorable parents.  He was the first and this child, the last.  In a way, they did not know each other.  There had not been time.

Still, there was blood.

“I will return,” he promised.

‘When?’

“I cannot say.” Hé Xing looked up.  “When the winds blow from the west.”

‘I do not like the wind,’ the boy answered, his tone most unpleasant.  ‘When I am a man I will go where I want and do as I like and will not heed it!’

“You are youngest.  You must stay and care for the ones who gave us life, as I must go and do the same.”

‘I will go where I like and do what I want,’ the small boy said again.

“If you choose this path you will bring dishonor to the ancestors and to those you love.”  Hé Xing paused.  “You will dishonor me.”

The boy’s fingers closed on the bouquet, crushing the delicate petals.  Hé Hui Fu held his gaze as he tossed those once precious flowers into the stream.  ‘I do not wish to dishonor you my brother, but I will choose my own path!’

At the time he took this to be the promise of a child.

Would that he had known it to be the making of the man the child would become.

“Hop Sing?  May I come in?’

The Asian man bowed to his ancestors and closed the doors to the shrine.  “You are most welcome, most honorable employer.”

The older man was taken aback.  “It is my hope that we are more than employer and employee.  I would hope we are friends.”

He had worked for Mistah Cartwright for a dozen years, first as a hand hired to cook and clean, and then as something more – a caregiver to his three sons and this man he loved.  Still, there was a distance between them; a gulf created by culture that could not be bridged by shared experiences.

He nodded but said nothing.

Mistah Ben turned around a chair and sat beside the cook’s table.  “The young man who saved Joseph’s life – Hop Hui Fu – he’s family?”  When he failed to respond, the older man continued. “I take it Hugh has rejected his culture since he’s chosen to go by a white man’s name?”

Hop Sing sat as well.  He hung his hands and his head as living shadows loomed about him, inhabiting the silence.  “He is Hugh.  Hé Hui Fu is dead.”

His employer frowned.  “So I take it…Hugh has somehow brought disgrace on your family’s name?”

Mistah Ben was a most unusual white man.  He sought to understand the Chinese people and did not dismiss what they believed.  ‘Bù zhī liǎng qīng,’ was how Zhìming had expressed it.

“Youngest brother is lacking in shame.”

“For the choices he’s made?  I take it he fell in with a group of privateers and has lived as a pirate?  Is that what he did that was wrong?”  Mistah Ben paused.  His dark eyebrows lifted, framing caring eyes.  “I’m sorry, Hop Sing.  It’s not right for me to pry into your family affairs.”

“If not tell Mistah Ben, then who?” he asked, his words soft.  Admission was hard.  He was a private man. ‘Mistah Ben and his boys Hop Sing’s family now.”

“Thank you,” the older man said, truly touched.

“The sons of Hop Ling are many.  Hé Sing is the oldest and Hui Fu, the youngest.  Since Hop Sing came to America task of running family farm fall to those in-between.  Hui Fu should be one to take care of honorable parents in their days of need.”

“And he chose another path?”

“Hui Fu choose his own path.”  He shook his head.  “That path not good.”

“I doubt the boy deliberately became a pirate.”

Mistah Ben was not wrong. Word brought by others to his ears spoke of his youngest brother going to sea.  The ship Hui sailed on was taken by privateers.  Instead of seeking to escape, he became one with them – much to the sadness and dishonor of the family.

“Does Mistah Ben know what goods most Chinese pirates trade in?”

His employer paled.  “Yes, though I have never witnessed the practice.”

He had, in Yerba Buena before he left.  One night a large imposing junk sailed into port.  Her standard – a black field emblazoned with the image of a silver shark – snapped in a storm surge wind.  A man who worked the docks dared the approaching storm to seek him out to tell him that his brother was aboard.  He put his medicines down immediately to go.  Another man he knew – once a farmer and now a member of the pirate ship’s crew – recognized him and let him board.  He was not allowed below, but told to wait on the topmost deck for his brother.  The vast ship groaned in the strong wind that strained her riggings, but not so loudly as those in her belly: innocent women who had been taken from their homes by force and would be sold to the highest bidder.

This was the day his youngest brother became dead to him.

Mister Ben continued.  “As I understand it, many pirate ships are also slavers.  They transport women of their own race to other countries to be sold as concubines.”  The rancher paused.  “I’m sorry, Hop Sing.  Hugh’s choice to live such a life must bring you and your family a great deal of pain.”

Pain, yes, for his brother’s choice, but pain also for his own.  He could not help but wonder – what if he had remained in China?  Would his brother then have chosen a different path?  Hop Sing wondered as well if this was why Mistah Ben’s number three son was his favorite.  Did he see in Little Joe a second chance for his own wild impetuous boy?

The Asian man rose to his feet and went to stand before his employer.  “This one must ask a second favor of Mistah Ben.”

“Oh?  And what is that?’

“Hop Sing must go, he knows not for how long.  This one must find most disobedient brother.  He must…restore his family’s honor.”

“And just how do you intend to accomplish that?” his employer asked.

“This one cannot say.”

“I…see.”  The rancher rose to his feet.  “I will honor Hop Sing’s request…with one stipulation.”

Mistah Ben must have Chinese blood.  His black eyes were inscrutable.

“What is one stipulation?” he asked.

“I will honor Hop Sing’s request to search for his brother so long as I go with him.”

The Asian man shook his head.  “This is not permitted.  It is a matter of family.”

“Did you not say just a moment ago that I am family?”

“This one did,” he admitted, “but Mistah Ben cannot go!”

The giant of a man crossed his arms over his chest.  “Mistah Ben will go or Hop Sing will not…unless he is willing to risk his honor to do so.”

The Asian man opened his mouth to protest, but quickly closed it again.  Mistah Ben’s boys loved draughts.

Mistah Ben was a master at chess.

Hop Sing bowed.  “When a player meets a worthy opponent, all that one can do is concede.”

“I’ll gather my things.  We should go quickly.”  The rancher placed a hand on his shoulder.  “Look at it this way, my friend.  You may be the saving of the boy.”

The Asian man turned his attention back to the shrine as his employer disappeared around the corner.  He considered leaving before the other man could return, but decided against it.  Mistah Ben was shrewd and knew him well.  His sense of honor would not permit such a thing.

Sadly, there was one thing his employer did not know.

His sense of honor also demanded his beloved brother die.

 

---

 

Chapter Seven

 

Joe blinked…and blinked again.  In fact, he was still blinking. Somehow, the idea that a pirate captain could be a woman was less hard to swallow than the fact that Jing-rou was a beautiful woman.

A beautiful woman rigid and inflexible as a coffin nail.

His bindings had been loosed and he’d been hauled to his feet and thrust several hundred feet across uneven ground toward a large wall tent.  The interior was spacious and ‘well-appointed’, as Adam would have put it, with luxurious embroidered-silk banners and a dozen or more Chinese paper lanterns hanging from the ceiling. There was a bed in one corner draped with more silk and topped with an exotic hide; it’s thick fur long and black as Jing-rou’s tresses. The pirates who brought him in had left him on his knees but unbound – a gesture he well understood.  First of all, it signaled that the pirate captain did not perceive him as a threat.  Secondly it warned – should he try to escape – that there were men prepared to stop him.

For good!

Not that he was that stupid.

Besides, he was worried about Hugh or Hui or whoever the heck he was!

Joe snorted.  He was still in shock over that one!  He knew Hop Sing had a lot of relatives – hundreds or maybe thousands – but it was strange to think of him as maybe having a brother.  The Asian man had never mentioned a sibling before that he could remember.  Hugh was awful young considering how old Hop Sing was.  Maybe Hugh was the surprise at the end of a long line or something like that.

“You find something amusing?” Jing-rou asked, her tone scintillating as a rattler’s skin in the sun.

“Yeah.  I mean ‘no’.”  Joe winced.  “Well, sort of, ma’am.”

Jing-rou stood before him like a goddess of old waiting to be worshipped.  He had to admit she was pretty as a wild mustang on the run – and just as dangerous!  The pirate captain’s skin shone like gold; bathed as it was in spices and oils.  Her ramrod-straight black hair had streaks of cobalt lightning running through it.  Jing-rou’s face was tapered; her full lips wide and her keen obsidian eyes narrow.  She wore her hair loose now and that softened her look just a bit.  The first time he’d seen her, her long black tresses had been upswept and contained by a series of elaborate golden combs fashioned in the shape of roses in the midst of a bed of barbed vines.  It made sense now that he’d had time to think about it.  Hop Sing had used both words before.

Jing. Rou. Thorn.  Softness.

Her slender fingers found his chin and lifted his head.  “You will answer this one’s question!” she commanded.

Question?

Oh, right.  What did he find amusing?

“Sorry, ma’am.  I was thinking about Hugh.”

“And this makes you laugh?” she scoffed.

Joe hesitated, unsure of how to explain.  “I know Hugh’s… well, I think I know his brother,” he began.  “Hop Sing is pretty old.  He’s got to be over forty.  I was thinking Hugh must have been quite a surprise when he came along since he’s only nineteen.”

“’Pretty old’,” she echoed with a crook of one elegant brow.

Joe winced.  Oops.

“Sorry, ma’am.  I didn’t mean to insult you if you’re…near…forty….”

“You may call me ‘Captain Thorn’,” she replied, rolling the ‘r’ just a bit, but pronouncing it clearly.  “‘Ma’am’ is most certainly for one who is old.”  She released him and took a step back.  “Now, you may ask your question.”

“How’d you know I had one?”

Thorn smiled – sort of.  “This one knows everything.”

“Okay.  Why am I here?”

The beautiful woman tossed her head in the direction of the door. “Is Hui Fu not your friend?”

Joe drew a breath.  Here’s where his pa’s teaching got him in trouble!

“Yes, Ma’…Captain Thorn.  He is.”

“So.  You would not see him die?”

“No!  No, I wouldn’t!”

“Just as Hui Fu would not see you die.”

What?

Dang!

“Then I’m a hostage…against him,” Joe said.

“And any who come seeking him.  You have a father and brothers.”

It was not a question.

He nodded.

The pirate captain sneered.  “This one is sure it is the same with them.  They would not see you die.”

**********

Hé Hui Fu stared at Jing-rou’s tent and considered the fate of Joe Cartwright.  His intention had never been to place the young man he’d rescued or his family in danger.  If not for the fever that still gripped him he would have left the Ponderosa immediately.

His weakness had doomed them.

While in their home he had observed the four white men; they were one with each other.  There was no division among them as there was in his family.  Little Joe’s father and brothers would be sure to come looking for him.  This gave him peace.  The teenager would be safe so long as Jing-rou believed his life had worth – but, sadly, no longer.  Many men had died by her sword and on her order; her chosen method of execution, beheading.  If one was lucky enough to be convicted of a lesser charge they might lose not their life, but a finger or a hand.

Or other part.

Jing-rou had been born to money and power.  She began her life as Lian Qi; the youngest daughter of a wealthy merchant.  She fled her father’s home when given in marriage without her consent to a man four times her age.  At the time, Lian Qi was barely more than a child.  She did not understand.  Alone, without support and with no knowledge of the world, she quickly grew desperate.  In time she sold the only thing she possessed – herself.  One of the men she serviced was Qin Le, captain of the Feng Jian and a state-sanctioned privateer.  He offered her escape.  She became first his concubine and then his wife.  Upon Qin Li’s death Lian Qi assumed his title and became captain first of the Feng Jian and later of her own ship, the Yue Ying.

This is where they met.

Jing-rou was older than him.  At the time he signed on, he did not know by how many years – nor did he care – but it was nearly twenty.  She showed him kindness by appointing Guo Rui to be his instructor in the ways of a privateer.  Her late husband had been authorized by those in power to stop enemy ships in Chinese waters and plunder them.  Not so Lian Qi.  She was laughed at by the old men and ordered to turn the Feng Jian over to them.

Instead she chose to turn her ship against them.

Lian Qi soon became a legend on the seas.  Her crew loved her and was loyal to the death.  She was grave as a goddess, caring but stern; like a mother she would accept – and expected – only the best from those she loved.

Then came the accident.

They were sailing the China Sea, headed for home, when a swift squall overtook them, striking like a hammer’s blow and pitching men into the roiling waters.  Lian Qi would not remain below decks.  She came topside just as a lightning bolt struck a secondary mast and shattered it.  A large piece struck her.  They all believed that she would die.

She did not.  She lived.

And was changed.

It was after this that Lian Qi came to be known by the name she bore to this day: Jing-rou, the soft thorn or Captain Thorn.  Once a seeker of adventure, the accident left Jing-rou with a hunger for comfort and security.  The life of a privateer was profitable but problematic.  Such ‘security’ required a ship to plunder.  More and more often, these were not to be found.  What could be found – with ease and an endless supply – were human lives.  Those who knew the pirate captain wondered how this could be?  How and why would a woman who had been enslaved enslave others?  By this time he had become Jing-rou’s second-lieutenant and her lover.  He knew the answer. Though Captain Thorn’s body healed, her soul did not.  The accident had twisted her mind.

There was no such thing as freedom.

She would see the world enchained.

Hui Fu closed his eyes.  He was bound to a tree directly in front of Jing-rou’s tent.  This choice was deliberate so that he must watch the shifting shadows within.  At this moment the  forms of  Jing-rou and Little Joe Cartwright were one.

He remembered the night he and Jing-rou had become one.

He remembered it with deep regret.

Jing-rou did not remarry but took many lovers.  Guo Rui, his tutor, had been one of the few to survive.  He, at seventeen had been the youngest.  As such he was malleable as soft metal allowing her to mold him into what she desired.

Until he met Mei Ling.

Her name meant ‘beautiful jade’ in the tongue of Little Joe Cartwright’s race and she was beautiful.  Not in the same way as Jing-rou; with her diamond-sharp edges and obsidian eyes that sparked with an unquenchable fire.  Mei Ling’s beauty was that of the ancient bird and lotus pendant his mother had worn about her neck – pure, radiant and strong.  Mei Ling was the youngest child of one of the powerful men who had scorned Jing-rou’s wish to captain the Fen Jian after her husband’s death.  This marked her as singular.  She was abducted by intrigue from the house of her father; drugged, and placed – not in the hold – but in an upper cabin to await ransom.

Beautiful Jade would bring them much gold.

A man can do many things to survive.  By choice he blinded himself to what transpired in the hold and looked only upon the ease and pleasure the sale of their captives would bring.  He did not see the women themselves; women so desperate to survive that they would do whatever was necessary for a scrap of bread.  He did not hear their cries or heed their soft tears.  He jested with the others at their fears.  Most were young, though none so young as Mei Ling.  His duty was to attend the captain and carry out her orders.  One day such an order caused him to bring food to the powerful man’s daughter.  Mai Ling’s plight stirred something deep within him, a feeling he couldn’t quite name.  Perhaps it was her innocence –a priceless treasure he had long ago traded for a life of adventure and ambition.

Even though he knew what punishment awaited him, he devised a scheme to free her.

It had always been his desire to live in the country his older brother and family inhabited and so he waited until they were anchored off Yerba Buena to begin.  The Yue Ying’s last voyage had brought them great riches.  Safe at harbor, the pirates celebrated.  When all were sated and had fallen asleep, he used a priceless bottle of Shaoxing wine given to him by Jing-rou to bribe Mei Ling’s guard.  What money he had saved he used to hire a coach.  The next morning  he and Mei Ling set out together for the Utah Territory to begin a new life.

This was not to be.

Jing-rou followed swift as a hawk.  Word came to him even as they reached the border of California that Mei Ling was not safe.  He left her with many tears in the care of the man and woman who ran a small inn who promised to keep her safe.

Then he set out for the home of his brother, unsure of what welcome he would find.

‘In the unseen world, there is the will of Heaven’, his aged father often said.

He and Mei Ling were in the hands of Heaven now.

As was the life of Joe Cartwright.

**********

Joe had been rebound, flipped on his side, and left lying on the massive Oriental carpet that cloaked the grassy floor of Jing-rou’s tent.  He knew from experience that he had no chance of escaping since he was trussed up like one of Hop Sing’s chickens!  So, instead he laid there and waited….

For whatever was going to happen next.

His feet were pointed toward the tent’s opening.  When he lifted his head, he could see through it to the clearing.  He was alone now.  Captain Thorn had gone straight to speak to Hugh when she’d finished with him.  He’d watched them talk.  Joe winced as he remembered the slap upside the head the betrayed woman had given him before storming away.

Seemed jilted women were the same no matter what their race.

Of course, he didn’t really know what their relationship was, but from Thorn’s reaction whenever he mentioned Hugh’s name, he could make a pretty good guess!  Pirates didn’t stand on convention.  Her being nearly twenty years his friend’s age wouldn’t matter.  Hugh was a handsome man and beauty was just another commodity in the world of the privateer.

She owned him just like she owned everything else she took.

Since he was stuck on the on the floor with nothing to do but think, Joe’d taken the opportunity to do just that.  He cast his mind back to his childhood and tried to remember whether or not Hop Sing had ever mentioned a younger brother – or any brother for that matter.  The Asian man was private and kept most everything personal close to the breast of his changshan.  Still, Joe thought there was one time when Hop Sing might have slipped.  Adam was at college, so he had to have been pretty little.  He’d done something; some big time stupid that got him into big time trouble.  Pa was furious.  He’d ordered him to his room and told him to stay there until he was eighteen!  Hop Sing sneaked in and brought him a snack after his father had gone to bed.  The Asian man sat next to him as he ate and told him a story about another little boy who’d gotten into a pot of hot water with his pa.  The boy refused to apologize and his father refused to forgive without an apology.  Hop Sing said their ‘combined anger’ was so powerful it created a chasm at the bottom of which there was a red hot river of pride that neither was able to cross.  When he’d asked their housekeeper what the boy’s name was, he’d replied, ‘Didi.’

He knew that one.  It meant ‘little brother’.

Joe winced as he shifted and a jagged rock dug into his shoulder blade.  Dang it, he was uncomfortable!  He turned his head so he could see outside and – for a brief moment – considered attempting an escape.  He was tied tightly, but not tied to anything.  If he worked at it hard enough, he could probably roll to the tent wall, squeeze underneath, and work his way into the trees.  He breathed a sigh as he let his head fall back to the ground.  Of course, he wouldn’t because of Hugh and Jing-rou knew that.  He hadn’t known the Asian man long, but he liked him.  On top of that, he was sure now that Hugh was Hop Sing’s brother.

He couldn’t desert him.

The teenager yawned.

Maybe – since he was stuck on his backside – he’d best sleep on it.

**********

Joe had no way of knowing how long he’d been asleep when he was jolted awake by a cry.  It took him a moment to get his bearings and realize that someone outside the tent was taking a terrible beating.

He was pretty dang sure he knew who it was!

The teenager blinked the sleep from his eyes and worked at it until he was in an upright position.  Night had fallen and it was pitch-black outside with the exception of the ghostly light cast by a few lanterns.  The air was chill; its scent wet.  So there must be clouds.  The dark meant he had no way of seeing who held the lanterns or how many of them there were.  He tested his bindings and found they were tied as tightly as ever, so there was nothing for it but to work his way to his feet and hop over to the opening to look out.

He had to bite his lip to stifle several cries, but he managed it.  If Hugh was the target of that anger, there wasn’t going to be much left to pick up come morning!  Each blow was followed by a grunt, and that grunt followed by another blow.  Words were spoken in-between.  Some of them he knew.  ‘Shuōhuà!’ was the word for ‘talk’.  ‘Gàosu wǒ, tā xiànzài zài nǎlǐ!’ was harder, but basically translated to ‘Tell me now!’  The rest was kind of confusing, considering the circumstances. ‘Where is she?’ or maybe ‘Who is she?’

She?

Joe chuckled even as he pictured Adam’s rolling eyes.

‘You’d know there’d have to be a girl!’

The thought of his older brother made Joe go weak in the knees. ‘Please be on your way, Adam!’ he thought.  ‘You can kid me for being your little buddy from here to eternity, just find me!’

Another grunt – deeper this time and almost inhuman – brought Joe’s attention back to the present and his friend’s predicament.  Obviously, if there was a girl, Hugh wasn’t gonna give her up.  The teenager leaned into the opening and squinted, but couldn’t make anything out.  In for a penny, he thought as he bit his lip and hobbled into the night.

Only to be taken hold of by two men and restrained between them.

Jing-rou halted her approach and nodded to the guards who released him.  She dismissed them before removing his gag.  “You do not approve?” she asked.

“Hell, no!  Why would I approve of beating a man senseless?  No one deserves that!”

“Even a man who has stolen from you?’

“Even a man who’s stolen from me!”

She eyed him with revulsion.  “Then you are weak.”

There was another blow – and another grunt.

“So what’d Hugh steal?” he demanded, careless of his tone.  “If you don’t mind me asking?”

“This one does not mind,” Captain Thorn held his gaze.  The warm light cast by the lanterns on the interior of the tent sparked like flint in her eyes.  “A prize of great value.”

A prize?  Maybe she meant a girl?

“A ‘prize’ or a person?”

“You are most perceptive, Joseph Cartwright.  This is a talent that may bring prosperity or ruin.  As for that one….”  The pirate indicated the scene unfolding behind her with a toss of her head.  “A gentlewoman’s revenge is never too late.”

“A gentlewoman?  Is that what you think you are?’

She moved swift as a mountain cat; the tip of her knife embedded in his skin before Joe could draw a breath to speak.  “I do not think, báirén, I know I am Thorn. Hé Hui Fu is mine, as is the prize he stole!”

“Oh.  Dang,”

Jing-rou scowled.  “Oh?  Dang?  That is all you have to say!?”

Just about.

He must be dumb as fencepost!

Hugh was in love with whoever it was he was protecting.  So – to Jing-rou – that made her the ‘other’ woman.

Joe looked past Captain Thorn.  Someone with a lantern had moved to Hugh’s side. What he saw made him draw a breath.

Ouch!

“You’re not going to get anything out of Hugh if you kill him,” he breathed.

“You are wrong, white man.  This one will.”

“What?  What do you think you’re going to get out a man whose half-dead?!”

Thorn’s smile was that of a satiated cat.

“Pleasure.”

**********

Miles away from the pirates camp, in the midst of a forested glen, a worried father lifted his face and sent his prayers winging toward Heaven.  Ben Cartwright’s hands were clasped tightly.  His lips moved without sound as he pleaded with his Maker for the safe return of his lost child.

Hop Sing watched his employer and friend.  He too had prayed to the Ancestors; not for his wayward brother but for himself.  He begged those who had gone before to lift the burden laid upon his shoulders by the elders of the Hé family.  He loved his youngest brother and, though Hui’s actions had brought shame upon them, he did not wish him harm.

Even more he did not wish to be the one to harm him.

The sins rightly laid at Hui Fu’s feet were many and monstrous.  The choice of a privateer’s life had not been enough for his rebellious brother.  Hui Fu chose to become a pirate on one of China’s most notoriously wicked ships!  All in Yerba Buena knew of the Yue Ying.  All feared it and its captain.  Jing-rou’s thirst for plunder could not be sated.  Her fleet was known from coast to coast as was the destruction it left in its wake.

Among this destruction was his brother.

“Hop Sing?’

The Asian man jumped.  Mistah Ben was at his side.

“I’m going to make an attempt to turn in.”  The rancher chuckled wistfully.  “Though I expect it will be an exercise in futility.”

“Rest is for the purpose of walking a longer path,” he replied.

The rancher smiled.  “Another of your father’s truisms?”

“Even so.”

Mistah Ben crossed to the fire.  “May I ask you something?” he inquired as he took a seat and indicated Hop Sing should do the same. “Something is wrong.  What is it?  Does this have to do with the young man who rescued Joseph?’

The Asian man considered his employer’s request.  If he could not tell this man he trusted of his dilemma, who could he share it with?

“I take it Hugh is a relation?  With the surname Hé…?”

He nodded.  “We are of one family.”

“A cousin then?  Or, no….”  Mistah Ben’s penetrating eyes sought his gaze and held it.  “I can see this is close to your heart, old friend.  Is Hugh your brother?”

“Hui Fu is the youngest of the many sons of Hop Ling.  When this one left for America,” he pointed to himself, “Hui Fu did not want him to go.  Didi could not understand his departure was for the good of the family.”

“You came to America to find a job so you could send money back home.  Yes?”

“To send money, yes, but also to save enough to bring Hop Sing’s family to this place; a place where they need no longer fear what the next day would bring.”

The tensions between the leaders of the Qing dynasty and the followers of Hong Xiuquan had brought much turmoil to his native land; their discord leading to rebellion and unrest. Those in power and those who sought to take it from them cared little what hardships their petty squabbles visited upon their people; a people who only wanted to raise their families and till their crops in peace.

“Or starvation, yes?”  Mister Ben paused.  “Your younger brother…may I call him Hugh?  It’s easier on this old tongue than Hui Fu.”

Hop Sing nodded his agreement.

“From what I saw, Hugh is melancholy in nature; a dreamer who has been granted his dreams and found them wanting.  I imagine he’s also bit of a handful – quick to anger; often acting on impulse.”  The rancher chuckled.  “Sound familiar?”

“Much many things are the same for Hui Fu and Mistah Little Joe.”  Hop Sing did nothing to hide the tear that trailed down his cheek.  “This one loves both boys more than life.  He loves Little Joe as if he were his own son.” The Asian man hesitated.  “It is this one’s hope that saying this does not displease Mistah Ben.”

“Of course not.  If I didn’t think you loved my boys, I wouldn’t trust you with their lives.”

Hop Sing sighed.  “This one bring much trouble to Mistah Cartwright’s life.”

“Old friend, look at me.”  Mistah Ben waited until he had.  “I knew Hugh had a secret when I took him in and that it most likely was a dark one.  I could have sent him away.  I chose not to.  If anyone has brought this trouble upon my house, it is me.  Still….”  The rancher hesitated.  “Hop Sing, I need you to be honest with me.  Is this more trouble than I realize?”

“How big is trouble Mistah Ben thinks?”

The rancher stared at him for several beats of his heart before he answered the question.  “First off, Hugh has done something to warrant the ire of the privateers he’s involved with.” He chuckled at his startled look.  “Oh, yes, I know he’s sailed the seas.  Hugh’s movements, his choice of verbiage, his clothing – just about everything gave that away from the start.  Second, whoever he sailed with has followed him to take some vengeance they believe is due.  Your brother was on the run when he stopped to help Joseph, which says quite a bit about him.”  The rancher held his gaze.  “Am I right so far?”

“Mistah Ben is so.”

“Okay.”  The rancher’s black brows shifted down in a frown.  “I assume these men are the ones who kidnapped Little Joe and Hugh?”  At his nod, he continued.  “They took both boys from the house and are holding them… somewhere for…some reason.  Old friend, do you have any idea where or why?’

The words came from out of the darkness.

“This one does.”

Ben shot to his feet.  “Who are you?” he called out.  “If you mean us no harm, why hide yourself?”

At first there was nothing.  Then the leaves parted to reveal a slender cloaked figure.  As the stranger approached it lowered the hood of the garment to reveal a pale, troubled face.

“This one means no harm.  Her name is Mei Ling.”

.

---

 

Chapter Eight

 

“I’m tellin’ you, Adam, them’s a bunch of ugly galoots.”

In the end he’d joined the search party as had Deputy Coffee.  When they reached the Ponderosa, they found it empty.  Pa and Hop Sing were gone.  Curiously, the pair had taken some pains to conceal their trail.

Whether from the Chinese or his sons, the black-haired man was uncertain.

Adam glanced at the ragtag assemblage of men.   “Are you telling me you only now noticed?”

Hoss slugged him in the arm.  “I ain’t joshin’, Adam!”

Neither was he.

To say that someone had scraped the bottom of the barrel to form this particular search party was an understatement.  None of their fellow ranchers were in it.  It consisted entirely of drifters and strangers; bored neer-do-wells who no doubt signed up with the expectation of either reward or something sensational at the end.

No, he took that back, there were a couple of ranchers among them.

It would have been better if there hadn’t been.

The older one, unofficially known as ‘Snakebite’ Peter Thompson, was – to put it bluntly – a troublemaker.  The fact that he’d signed up to search for Little Joe, whom he considered a spoiled brat, and Hop Sing – when he hated the Chinese – begged the question of ‘why’?

“You’re thinkin’ about Snakebite, ain’t ya?”

Adam sighed.  “Only because I have to.”

“Why do you suppose he joined up?” his brother asked.  “He don’t cotton to Little Joe none.  Fact is, when Joe was little tyke, I ain’t so sure Pete didn’t try to hurt him.”

Ben’s eldest well remembered that day.  Snakebite, as he was so apply called, had been loitering at the front of the mercantile when ten-year-old Little Joe came along.  They were never sure but – Joe being Joe – they figured he’d said something Pete didn’t like.  One minute Joe was on the boardwalk and the next he was in the street with a four-horse team bearing down on him.  If it hadn’t been for Roy Coffee and his quick action, the Cartwright brothers might well have been a duo instead of a trio.  They could never prove anything.  Pete denied he’d done anything and Joe was too scared to say.

That was the day he and Hoss had made a pact that they wouldn’t let the kid out of their sight until he turned eighteen.

“We’re a couple of years shy,” the black-haired man muttered under his breath before speaking aloud.  “Pete doesn’t like the Chinese either.  He was on the committee that sought to ban them from settling here.  He had a run-in with Hop Ling if you remember.”

“Whoo-boy, do I!  Old Hop Ling cracked him good over the head with a laundry paddle!”

Thus endearing the Chinese to the rancher even more.

This time Adam stifled the sigh.

“We both need to keep an eye on Pete, just in case he’s signed up to cause trouble.”

“Might be as he’s hopin’ to get in good with Pa,” Hoss offered.  “You know how bad he wants that parcel of land to the north of here that Pa’s got up for sale.”

When their father heard about Snakebite’s interest, his response nearly took the roof off of the Ponderosa.

‘When the Devil learns to dance!’

Adam chuckled.  That was a new one!

“You two got a minute?”

They turned as one to find Deputy Coffee approaching.  “Adam, Hoss,” he said as he halted.  “I’ll say it again I’m sorry your pa lit out without us, but I won’t say I’m sorry you’re here.”  He glanced over his shoulder.  “There’s some in this group I don’t trust.”

Adam shrugged.  “No worries.  I find things have a way of working out as they’re intended.”

“Then you’re okay with it?” the lawman asked.

Adam’s gaze shifted to Peter Thompson.  “More than okay.”

Better to keep the man in sight.

They’d been on the road for the better part of a day.  At first Roy had led them in a wide circle; his excuse a need to search for sign.  The slight misdirection was actually meant to give Pa and Hop Sing a chance to build up a lead.  By mid-afternoon Snakebite had started to get noisy.  Apparently, he’d volunteered to lead the group and Roy had turned him down.  Pete insisted he knew where they needed to go to find Joe and Hugh.  When questioned, he explained – somewhat vaguely – that he’d overheard a conversation between two Chinese men when he’d gone outside to the alley behind the Soap to relieve himself. The pair mentioned that they were headed north with a ‘prize’ and intended to make camp near the bend in the river – which just so happened to be the parcel of land their father was trying to sell.  Such a thing was possible, he supposed, considering how liquor loosened men’s lips.  Sadly, it was far more probable that Pete had in fact collaborated with the kidnappers and intended to lead them into a trap.

So now – after spending a day circling and going nowhere – they were headed west and north toward Reno as Pete suggested.

It was an unnerving coincidence that Hop Sing and their father had gone the same way.

Roy moved in closer and dropped his voice.  “I ain’t sayin’ Pete was in on takin’ that Chinese boy and your brother.  Still, I got me a suspicion he’s as guilty as a poker player with an ace up his sleeve.”

Adam nodded.  “I agree.  After all, it’s Pete.  He’s bound to be guilty of something.”

The deputy looked to the north.  “He wants that parcel of land your pa’s sellin’ awful bad.”

He rolled his eyes.  “Yes, but you’d think even Pete would be bright enough to know that threatening one of Ben Cartwright’s sons is not the way to gain his favor.”

“Could be,” Roy countered, “if’n it was Pete who rescued Little Joe from a band of dangerous pirates.”

Hoss’ snapped his fingers, startling them both. “Dang it, Adam!  You know somethin’?  I bet Deputy Roy’s right!”

It did make an awful kind of sense.  In fact, it was almost poetic.  Take Joe, lead their father to him, and then pretend to rescue the kid.  Pa would be grateful.

Grateful enough to give Pete the land.

Adam pulled at his chin. “Well, if that is the case, then all we have to do is sit back and let Pete lead us to Joe and Hugh.  We can let him have his moment of glory and then pull the rug out from under him with the facts.”

“Here’s hopin’ that’s all this is.  Dealin’ with a greedy rancher’s a whole lot easier than takin’ on a band of cutthroat pirates.  It sure would make this lawman’s job easier.” Roy tipped his hat and walked away.

Easier.

Yes.

Too easy.

**********

The moonlight was meager at best, veiled as it was by a low bank of clouds.  By its light Ben Cartwright studied the young woman who had emerged from the shadows.  He had taken her at first for a boy.  Now he understood why.  Mei Ling was young; at the age where it was difficult to distinguish between the sexes.  She was also dressed as a man in traditional Chinese clothing that included a long loose-fitting tunic with a magua over it and kuzi trousers, which were tied at the waist.  Her lengthy mane of ebon hair had been knotted and the bulk of it concealed beneath a common maozi hat such as Hop Sing wore.  Every item was cut from a dark blue cloth.  There was no ornamentation.  In this way Mei Ling had been able to avoid detection.

The girl was pretty if not beautiful; though with a hint that time might ripen that prettiness into something spectacular.  Her pallid face housed a pair of wide dark eyes anchored firmly above a pert, turned-up nose.  He suspected she was in her mid to late teens.  She spoke English well enough, though in a broken fashion similar to those who called the settlement’s Chinese quarter home and used the white tongue only when necessary.  There were no calluses on her hands or other recognizable signs of hard labor.

He could not fail to note the misery in her dark eyes that suggested she might have known ‘labor’ of a different kind.

It took some time to get Mei Ling to speak and, when she did, it was only in her native tongue and to Hop Sing.  As he listened to their exchange, Ben kicked himself.  The Asian man had been a part of his household for years.  Why had he not learned Mandarin?  Still, with the rather…verbose…Hop Sing around, he’d managed to pick a few common words. ‘Anquán’ meant ‘safe’ and ‘hépíng’ translated to ‘peace’.

‘Be at peace.  You are safe.’

He could only hope Mei Ling believed what she heard.

It seemed once trust had been established that the girl had much to say.  The pair was talking in earnest now.  The rancher observed his cook and friend closely, noting his reaction.  There was surprise at first and then anger.  In time that anger turned to rage.  Noting this, Mei Ling reached out to touch the Asian man’s arm. Whatever it was she said turned that rage to despair.

By the end of the conversation it was Mei Ling who comforted Hop Sing instead of the other way around.

“Ahem.”  Ben cleared his throat.  “Hop Sing, I hate to intrude but….”

The Asian man sniffed before turning to face him.  “Please to forgive this one.  I have promised Mei Ling food and a bed in payment for her story.  Hop Sing will explain all to Mistah Ben once this obligation is fulfilled.”

The rancher nodded.

What else could he do?

Some twenty or thirty minutes later – after the girl had crawled into Hop Sing’s bedding and fallen asleep – his cook and friend returned to his side.

“Well?’ Ben asked.

Exhaustion strained the Asian man’s voice.  “This one knows where to find Mistah Little Joe and Hui Fu.”

Relief rushed through him – until he took into account Hop Sing’s demeanor.  “And?”

“And this one does not wish to find his brother, though he wishes to find Mistah Joe.”

There was a visible struggle raging within the Hop Sing’s undersized frame.  Ben only wished he knew what fueled it.

“Can you tell me why?” he prodded gently.

“First Mistah Ben must tell Hop Sing this – what is his definition of honor?”

“My definition?”  Ben considered the question.  “I suppose it would be a man living according to certain moral principles – defending the weak, protecting others; being true to one’s self.”

“Does honor not extend beyond the one to the many?  What of one’s family?”

“In some ways, though I believe each man’s honor is his own concern.  Still, I admit, what one family member does effects the others.”

“And if one member of this family has brought disgrace to all the others, what would Mistah Ben do?”

These were deep waters.  The Asian concept of honor was difficult for one not of their race to understand as it involved a mixture of filial piety, loyalty, and moral integrity.  Unlike the western world that valued the individual about all else, upholding the honor of the family was paramount.

“You have asked me a great deal of questions,” Ben replied.  “May I ask you one before I answer any more?”

The Asian man considered his request and nodded.

“Which is more important to a man?  Honor or family?”

His friend sighed.  “This one cannot see the difference.”

“All right.  I accept that.”  Ben thought a moment.  “How about this then?  You have spoken before of the Five Constant Virtues. Can you name them?”

The answer came quickly, like a child reciting his letters. “Righteousness, benevolence, propriety, wisdom, and faithfulness.”

“Righteousness or a commitment to justice.  Benevolence entails kindness, generosity and goodwill.  Wisdom is obvious, and faithfulness, of course, means a steady commitment or an unwavering loyalty.  I think we can agree on all of those.”  Hop Sing nodded again and so he continued.  “Propriety?  Ah, there’s the rub as Adam’s bard would say.  Propriety has to do with society’s expectations, but which society and whose?  Yours or mine?”

“Hop Sing does not understand.”

“You know your Bible?”

“Hop Sing has become a good Baptist since he come to America.”

“So, you know the story of the prodigal son.”  Ben’s gaze fastened on a pair of eyes that mirrored his own both in color and intelligence.  “It is the story of a son who disgraced his family, one who demanded his inheritance and then squandered the money his father gave him on abandoned living.  This man’s unrighteous actions were at times malicious in intent.  He was a man who chose to flaunt society’s standards in every way.  In other words, the prodigal son was completely depraved and faithless.  He fully deserved his family’s censure and his father’s wrath.  And so?”

The Asian man frowned.  “And so?”

“What did the prodigal’s father do?  Did he turn his back on his son?  Did he reject him and drive him away because of his sins, or did he use forgiveness as a balm to bind and heal his wounds and make him a new man?”  Ben let his words sink in for a moment before continuing.  “As I have heard you say before, is forgiveness not the fragrance the violet sheds on the heel of the one who has crushed it?”

In the silence that followed there was nothing to be heard but the beat of his heart, the soft sound of Mei Ling’s breathing, and…perhaps…hope.

“Mistah Ben very wise man,” his friend said at last.  “This one will go now and think on all he has heard.”

The Asian man moved as if he had aged twenty years in the last twenty minutes.  Hop Sing crossed to where Mei Ling’s laid and bent to whisper a few words before he disappeared into the trees.

Taking with him whatever dark and tragic tale the girl had related.

 

Adam sipped the last of the cold coffee he’d retrieved from the pot on the fire.  It had puzzled him all day – why had their father gone with Hop Sing?  That choice, in the light of the letter Roy had shown him at the jail, was concerning to say the least.

“What was that there sigh for?” Hoss asked as he settled in beside him with a plate of grub in hand.  “You look as sour-faced as a drink out of a vinegar bottle.”

The eldest Cartwright son tossed his head in the direction of the group behind them.

Hoss followed his gaze.  “Oh.  Snakebite.”

“Yes, him and that younger brother of his.”

John had arrived late, but he had joined the search party now – supposedly ready and willing to go the whole distance to rescue Little Joe and Hugh, who was a stranger to him.

Hmm.

“I don’t know, Adam,” Hoss replied as he reached for the coffee pot.  “I done spent some time with John.  He seems like a decent enough fellow.  You know they call him ‘Greenhorn Thompson’?”

“I do.  He’d have to be a ‘greenhorn’ not to see through his brother’s charades – unless, of course, he’s a part of them.”

“Charades?”  His brother’s brows formed a deep ‘V’.  “You mean like the game?”

Yes, he meant like the game.  Peter Thompson pretended to be everybody’s friend when the truth was he was no one’s friend but his own.

“Just keep an eye on John.  Okay?  If things go south, he might come over to our side.”

Hoss took a sip before speaking.  “You think Pete might try somethin’?”

“I don’t know.  If this really is about making Pa grateful enough to sell him that land – or give it to him – I would imagine he’ll be on his best behavior.”  Adam’s tone darkened.  “A man like that protects his own hide first – and maybe only his own hide.”

The big man hesitated before speaking.  “You know, Adam, it ain’t only Pete we got to worry about.”

“Oh?”

“That’s Indian territory he’s wantin’ to lead us through.  Now’s just about the time Winnemucca and his tribe will be comin’ back from their winter camps.”

Drat!  He had forgotten that!

“At least we know Winnemucca’s friendly – sort of,” Adam replied.  “The Paiute shouldn’t give us any trouble once we explain what we’re doing.”

Hoss chuckled.  “You got yourself a short memory, older brother.  Don’t you remember what happened last Pilgrim’s Day?”

The scholar of the Ponderosa frowned.  He prided himself on his memory and it was disquieting to think he had forgotten anything important.  He thought back through the last winter to fall. Nothing stood out about them and the Indians except….

“Oh.”

“I ain’t so sure old Winnemucca wouldn’t be right happy to see little brother carted off somewhere – and maybe for good!”

In spite of their father’s warning – and the chief’s commands – Winnemucca’s daughter Sarah and Little Joe had formed a fast friendship during their childhoods that was fast threatening to become more than a friendship.  The year before Pa had decided to hold a Ponderosa ‘Day of Thanks’ and invite the tribe.  It was meant as a gesture of peace and would have been if Winnemucca catching Joe and Sarah behind a haystack sharing a kiss hadn’t come closer to starting a war!

“Well,” he said, “hopefully all is forgiven.  After all, Pa did send a load of goods home with the Paiute.”

Hoss was munching on a sausage.  “As I remember, the chief nearly took Little Joe home with him too!”

They’d debated whether the chief’s intention had been to make a son-in-law of Joe or to tan him and hang him out as a warning to any other white men who even looked sideways at his daughter.

It would be a miracle if Marie’s boy made it to eighteen.

“You two about done?”  Roy Coffee yawned as joined them.  “We’re getting’ saddled up and ready to go the next few miles.”

“Almost,” Adam said.  “We have a few things to pack.”

“Can’t leave them bandages for Little Joe behind,” Hoss said.

Roy chuckled at the well-worn joke.  Then he snapped his fingers. “Say, I meant to ask you. You didn’t find no note from your Pa when you went into the ranch house that you, well, forget to tell me about it?” The deputy’s tone was hopeful.

“Sure didn’t,” Hoss replied with a shake of his head, “which is kind of funny since it’s, well…you know…Pa.”

Adam glanced at his brother.  He had his suspicions as to why the pair had left together.  He wasn’t sure why he hadn’t told Hoss of his suspicions yet – that there was a strong connection between Hop Sing and Hop Hui Fu – unless it was an inbred desire to protect the Asian man and his privacy.

Which they had violated anyway by ransacking his room.

“Well, I s’pose we’ll find out what and why when we meet up with ‘em.”  Roy snatched a sausage off Hoss’ plate and laughed at the big man’s expression.  “Your pa’s like a bloodhound on the trail when it comes to you three,” he said while munching.  “I ain’t worried for one minute but that we’ll end up at the same place.”

“Unless Pete is leading us astray and has no idea where Little Joe is.”

There, he’d said it.

“Interestin’.  You want to tell me what makes you think that?” Roy asked.  “You got a reason other than town gossip?”

He had to admit he didn’t.  “No.  It’s just….  Did you really buy his story?  I could be wrong, but I can’t imagine any Chinese pirate worth his salt blabbing about’valuable cargo’ in the alley behind a saloon.”  He tossed a hand in the air.  “Or for that matter, brainless enough to take up with Pete!”

“Maybe they been usin’ him.”

“For what?”

“Information.  On the Ponderosa.  Maybe on Hop Sing.”

Hoss had started toward the horses.  He turned back.  “What would them pirates want with Hop Sing?  They ain’t gonna impress him as a sailor.  He done told me was sick the whole way over comin’ over from China.  Pa said he ain’t got a sea-leg, let alone two!”  The big man looked at him and then at Roy, and then back to him.  “Is there somethin’ you know that you ain’t told me yet?  Adam?”  His brother’s tone darkened.  “I ain’t Little Joe.  There ain’t no need to protect me!”

“It ain’t you he’s protectin, son,” Roy said softly.

Adam sighed as he rose to face his brother.  “Hugh is a privateer, Hoss, or was.  He’s done something to put the rest of the crew on his tail and it seems they’re a mean bunch.”

“Huntin’ him down is more like it,” Roy said.

“Ok.”  Hoss nodded but was obviously not satisfied.  “So what you’re sayin’ is that Hugh savin’ Little Joe’s life and us helpin’ him on account of it has put them on our tail too?”

The lawman nodded.

“That still don’t explain Hop Sing.”

“Hugh’s real name is Hé or Hop Hui Fu,” Adam said.

“Like Hop Sing and Hop Ling?’  Hoss frowned.  “You mean Hugh and Hop Sing is something like father and son?”

Adam blew out a sigh.

Something like that.

**********

The Ancestors chided him as he walked beneath the trees; their disapproving voices borne on the backs of budding branches and driven by a chill wind.  He did not hearken to them.  Instead the words that filled his ears were those of Mistah Ben and of the Good Book he followed.  Mei Ling’s softly spoken words tested him as well, calling as they did for forgiveness that was not his to give.

It was his most sincere wish that he had never left China.

He wished as well that the wise words in his ears did not contend with those of his own father and his father’s fathers.  If this was so, he would know what to do.  A good son honors his parents and the ancestors.  He upholds the family’s honor, thus contributing to the family’s reputation.  A good son must be virtuous and show moral integrity and, above all, fulfill his duties and obligations to maintain social harmony.

Hop Sing groaned as he moved forward, driven not by the incessant wind but by despair.  After his departure Hui Fu forsook their family; breaking their mother’s heart and dishonoring their father.  He left his homeland, abandoned his responsibilities, and chose to live amongst murderers and thieves – as a murderer and thief.  The boy he once loved had burned and pillaged towns.  Hui Fu had taken advantage of women and, even worse, taken part in selling those same women for gain.

He had also risked all to save Mei Ling.

Hop Sing halted; suddenly lost.  He turned to the left and right, unsure of which way to go.  In his pack was a paper folded most carefully.  It contained a dry powder – one with the power to kill.  It was given to him at the time of his departure from Zhìming, with the instruction that he offer it to Hui Fu as an honorable way to end a most dishonorable life.  And if his brother refused?

Also within his pack was a knife.

Honor.

Dishonor.

Justice.

Forgiveness.

Which was the correct way?

The wind rose driving him forward, but the Ancestors remained silent.  Perhaps they had already chosen.

Perhaps they knew he had chosen as well.

 

---

 

Chapter nine

 

Hop Sing had been gone too long.

Ben sighed as his gaze shifted to the dark trees that brooded over their camp.  Against his better judgment, he’d chosen to respect the Asian man’s need for privacy and let him go.  He’d expected Hop Sing to be gone for an hour; maybe a little more.

It had been two.

Hop Sing hadn’t taken his horse.  Then again, a horse would do a man little good in the thick woods.  They’d known when they stopped to rest that they’d have to travel on foot from this point forward.  The trail they’d followed from the Ponderosa had been a meager one, based mostly on Hop Sing’s intuition and knowledge of the ways of his people.  There had been a few clues here and there to add to mei Ling’s knowledge, such as a brightly colored scrap of silk. The unusual nature of the find had been enough to convince him to let his cook and friend take the lead.

He hoped now that had not been a mistake.

In the years he’d known Hop Sing he had come to think of them as friends.  Still, Ben understood full well that word meant something different to his Asian housekeeper.  To him, a friend was someone with whom you could share your innermost thought, feelings, hopes, and even secrets.

Hop Sing shared his secrets with no one.

This was not the first time their two cultures had clashed, but it was the first time he’d feared his cook’s reticence might actually threaten their family.  He knew Hop Sing’s love of his boys was fierce.  It ran deep, thought not nearly so deeply as the traditions that were as much a part of the man as the breath in his body and the beat of his heart.  If it came to choosing between his adopted family and his Chinese family’s honor, which would Hop Sing choose?

Could he help but choose the latter?

Ben drew a deep breath and breathed it out slowly between his teeth before heading for their unexpected guest.  Mei Ling was still sleeping.  If he meant to leave, he couldn’t abandon her.

No more than he could abandon his boys.

The rancher bent down and reached for the girl’s shoulder .When he shook it she didn’t start, but seemed to rouse from some deep unseen place.

“Shénme?  Shì shéi?”

He’d heard the last words before.  Hop Sing often employed them when forced to open the front door onto the unknown.

“It’s Ben Cartwright.  I need you to wake up.”

The girl shied back as if not recognizing him.  “Bùyào! Wǒ shānghài!”

Her tone made the words evident.

“I promise I mean you no harm.  Mei Ling!  Look at me.  It’s Ben Cartwright, Hop Sing’s friend.”

She blinked twice and then looked up.  Her body relaxed.  “Mister Ben?  Hop Sing’s…friend?”

Thank goodness!

“Hui Fu’s friend too?” she asked within a heartbeat.

Ben took a seat on a trunk nearby, hoping to reduce the perceived threat his height and size might present.  “Yes, I am Hui Fu’s friend as well.”

She held his gaze for a moment before lowering her head and looking at her hands.

“You’re afraid?”

Mei Ling nodded.

“For Hugh?  Not for yourself?”  Ben dared it.  “Mei Ling, are you in love with him?”

She looked up; her obsidian eyes seeming to take his measure.  How well did she speak English, he wondered?  Mei Ling obviously came from wealth.  Her manners were cultured; her movements, refined.  It was evident from her pale supple skin that she had never seen hard labor.  Perhaps her father was a wealthy merchant or government official.  Such a man would most surely have learned to speak English so he could conduct business.

Had his child, he wondered?

“This one should not say,” she replied, her tone hushed.

“But this one will?” he prodded.

Another nod.  “Mei Ling youngest in father’s family. She father’s favorite.  Many men much hate father for father has much money and power.  Men want father’s money, so they take Mei Ling.”

“I’m sorry.”

The girl’s teeth were pearl white.  They flashed in a brief smile.  “Mei Ling run away.”

“That was very brave of you.”

Mei Ling used one hand to toss the cascade of long black hair over one shoulder.  “Brave not same as wise.  Mei Ling taken once more, quickly.”  She shuddered.  “This time found by men of the Yu Ying.”

“The privateers?’

She shuddered again. This one shook her slight form.  “All fear the Yu Ying and Captain Thorn.  All right to fear.  Captain Thorn take women like Mei Ling to sell for gold.”

He gave her a moment before asking, “Did Hugh save you from Captain Thorn?”

Her disconsolate eyes pooled with tears.  One escaped to trail down her cheek.  “Hui take Mei Ling away from Captain Thorn.  He give up his freedom for this one.”

“Did you mean to run off together?”  When she frowned as if not understanding, he rephrased his question.  “Were you to marry?’

“Father not approve, but Mei Ling not care!” she replied, showing some fire.  Ben swallowed a chuckle, amused by this peek of the real Mei Ling as seen through a cloak of meekness.  “We mean to marry, but danger too much.  Hui send Mei Ling away.  He go and leave a trail for pirates to follow that lead to him and not to her.”

“Then why are you here?  Why are you not in your sanctuary?”

Her jaw tightened.  “Mei Ling not let Hui Fu die alone.”

There was something of his youngest son’s determination in that young lady’s gaze!

“All right,” the rancher said.  “I assume, since you are here, that ‘here’ is where Hugh is as well – and my son.  Can you….  Will you take me to Joseph?”

The girl rose from her bedding. Once on her feet, she looked around.  “Where?” she asked with a nod toward the sturdy pony Hop Sing rode.

It took a second.  “Where is Hop Sing?”  Ben sighed.  “I don’t know.  That’s why I woke you.  With or without him we need to get –”

“Hop Sing not here?” she inquired sharply; her tone shifting up a level.

“No.  He went into the woods.  I thought it was to think, but it’s been over two hours and –”

Mei Ling rushed forward to take hold of his arm.  “Bùyào zài shuōle,” she cried as she tugged it. “Wǒmen bìxū zǒule!”

Of course, she was no match for his strength.

He didn’t budge.

“Tell me!”

“No time.  We go now!” she declared.  “Must go now!”

“But why?  Is the time so short?”

Mei Ling released her grip and stepped back.  Her lower lip quivered.  “Xuè de fùchóu,” she breathed, her voice robbed of strength by fear.

“What?”  Ben opened his arms wide.  “I don’t understand.”

The answer was a whisper, cold as the day and soft as the wind that chilled it.

“Revenge of the blood.”

**********

After viewing with satisfaction what Chen-mo had done to Hugh, Jing-rou retreated to her tent.  Shortly after this a young privateer Joe had heard called ‘Liang Xun’ followed her in and the lights went out.  So, the pirate queen was…occupied.

Maybe he could talk to Hugh.

There was only one guard stationed to watch them and, to be honest, the term ‘guard’ was loosely applied.  Han Qing must have been the treasurer of the bunch or something because most of the time his nose was in a ledger or hanging over an abacus.  He barely glanced at them.

Joe cleared his throat.  “Hugh?” he said softly.  “Are you awake?”  When he got no reply, he tried again – a little louder this time.  “Hugh, are you awake?”

“Would that this one…was not.”

The teenager blew out a breath of relief.  “I thought maybe that gorilla had killed you.”

“It would be…better for all if he had.”

“That’s no way for a fellow to talk!”  Joe glanced at their guard to make sure he was still busy with his numbers, which he was.  “You gotta fight!”

Hugh shifted, tightening the ropes that bound them both.  “I have nothing.  I am nothing.  I am – Jiangshi.  This one does not fear death for he is already dead.”

The teen growled low in his throat.  “For Gosh sakes, will you stop saying that!  You made an awful lot of noise when Chen-mo was pounding you for someone who doesn’t feel anything!”

“You do not understand,” the Asian man replied.  “This one does feel – he feels too much.  He feels the burden of all the things he had done for which he deserves death.”

“Why do you deserve death?  Don’t the Chinese….  Doesn’t your family believe in second chances?  I mean, if I’d been booted out for the first hare-brained thing I did, I’d have been on the street by ten.”

“This one was given a second chance – and a third and a fourth.  How many chances are there to give to one who will not listen and does not learn?”

Joe winced.  “My pa’s given me more than my fair share.”

“That is because he loves you.”

He glanced again at their guard.  It was only then Joe realized the man wasn’t concentrating on his ledger.  He was asleep!

“Doesn’t your pa love you?” he asked.

“Once, but no more.  I am Jian – ”

“Yeah, I know.  You are Jiangshi, the walking dead.”  The teen thought a moment.  “So all those things you mentioned before when you got mad at me….” He swallowed over his disbelief.  “You really did them?  You really are a pirate?”

Hugh grunted as he shifted again.  “You know about pirates?”

Sure, he did!

“My pa sailed the seas.  Hoss and I begged him every night to read us a book about it.”  Joe thought a moment.  “My favorite one was called The Pirate by Sir Walter Scott.”

“Mistah Cartwright was a pirate?” his companion asked, clearly puzzled.

Joe chuckled.  “Heck, no!  Pa was a lieutenant on a ship out of Boston.”

“Ah, I see.  This one knows of that book.  It is not entirely…factual.  Did you father also read to you from The General History of Pyrates?”

The teenager wrinkled his nose.  “Pa said that one wasn’t good for Christian boys.”

“Because it is true.  Because it speaks of cruelty and brutality in a world without law.”  Hugh paused.  “This is also true.  This one has done shameful things that it would not be good for Christian Little Joe to hear.”

“Are you…” He swallowed hard.  “Are you glad you did them?  Would you do them again?”

The other man sighed.  “No.  That is why this one ran.  Even so, it is why this one has great sorrow that he did not run fast enough.”

“Then you’ve repented!  You’re sorry for what you did.”

“This one is sorry.”

“Well, then, don’t you see?  Everything will be okay!  Your father’s sure to forgive you if you tell him you’re sorry.  I mean, he will be, won’t he?”  Joe couldn’t imagine a father who would disown his son, though he knew such things happened.  A year or so back there’d been a young man in the settlement who’d chosen to take part in a robbery.  His whole family turned their back on him and he killed himself in the end.  “Pa says that the man who can’t forgive breaks the bridge over which he’ll have to pass one day.”

“Your father is a wise man, Little Joe Cartwright.  This one’s father is a wise man as well, but his wisdom is of another time and place; another culture.”

“Because of family honor?”

Hugh turned toward him.  “You know of this?”

Joe hesitated.  He knew how private the Chinese were and hesitated to ask, but since it seemed both of their lives might depend on the answer….

“Is Hop Sing your pa?” he asked, thinking about that age difference.

“My father?  No.”

“So, you’re another cousin?”

“This one is the brother of Hop Sing.”

So he’d been right.  “But you gotta be twenty years younger…”

“There are many sons of Hop Ling between Xing and Hui, but none after.”

“So you’re the youngest?”  He grinned.  “No wonder you’re in trouble all the time!”

Hugh chuckled.  “My friend speaks from experience?”

“Boy, howdy!”  Joe glanced again at their guard.  The man was snoring.  “It’s not easy,” he said with less gusto.  “Being the youngest, I mean.”

“Or the eldest,” Hugh replied. “Much there is upon him, my brother.  Many things very hard.”

“So Hop Sing’s the oldest.”

“Not always so.  One older passed before Hé Shèng was born.”

They were pretty far apart; him and his brothers.  At times Adam seemed like a second father – and he sure as shootin’ acted like one!  Still, they were just over a decade apart.  It was hard to imagine having a brother old enough to be your pa!

“Hé Xing was this one’s teacher.  Brother very good teacher.  Hui very bad pupil.”

“You’re awful hard on yourself.”  Joe thought a moment.  “You know what Hop Sing told me one time when I was really stupid?  I mean, I almost got killed.”

“What did Hui’s older brother tell you?”

“A newborn calf has no fear of tigers.”

Hugh’s tone was ironic.  “And have you learned to fear the tigers…now that you are old and wise?”

Joe laughed out loud.  He shot another look at their guard before replying. The man shifted, but remained asleep.

“I got a long way to go until I am old and even farther, I imagine, before Hop Sing would consider me wise.  But yeah, I’ve learned.”  Joe craned his neck to glimpse his friend.  “Seems you’ve learned something too, since you’re sorry for what you’ve done.”

“This one has learned but it is too late…for him.”  Hugh straightened his back against the tree.  “It is this one’s duty to make sure it is not too late for his friend.”

“Hey!”  Joe couldn’t see his friend clearly, but he could hear the determination in his voice.  “Don’t do anything stupid!”

“Elder brother taught this one…great wisdom often seems foolish.”

Joe had no idea what Hugh intended and never found out.  At that exact moment chaos erupted in the pirate’s camp as the night’s silence was shattered by the strike of horse’s hooves and the abrupt appearance of a man mounted on a chestnut quarter horse.  Joe blinked the weariness from his eyes as he lifted his gaze to the man in the saddle.  What he saw surprised him.  The rider wasn’t Asian – he was white – and there was something familiar about his general size and shape.  Chen-mo, sword in hand, appeared out of nowhere to greet the rider.

“He asks for a name,” Hugh translated.

“Did you hear what it is?”

“Not clearly.  Perhaps John B – uh!“

Hugh’s reply was cut short by their guard – now fully awake and infuriated that he had fallen asleep.  Han Qing kicked the Asian man in the side.

“Silence!” he ordered.

Jing-rou came out of her tent with Liang Xun in tow.  The disheveled appearance of both left no question as to what they had been doing.  Captain Thorn’s words were curt.  A moment later, the quartet moved inside.

Joe pursed his lips and thought.

John B.

John B?

Or maybe John C. or E. or T.?

Unfortunately, there would be no asking Hugh to clarify what he’d heard since their guard was wide awake now and going nowhere.

The teenager considered all the men he knew.  The problem was, there were a lot of ‘Johns’ who worked ranches and almost as many with a surname starting with any of those letters.  Carter?  Caraway?  Elder?  Earhardt?  Thomas?  Tennyson?  Townsend?   Thompson?

Thompson.

Joe blanched.  John Thompson.  That had to be it!  They knew each other – sort of.  John was the younger brother of Pete Thompson who was the man that wanted that piece of land pa owned and wouldn’t…sell.

Damn.

Adam had an expression.  It came from a play by some French guy called ‘The Mysteries of Paris’.

The plot thickens.

**********

‘Revenge of the blood’.

Ben had never heard of the term before and now he wished he never had.  He and Mei Ling gathered all they could carry and left the camp, stowing their horses and possessions in a nearby cave for safe-keeping.  As they did, he’d asked her to explain what the odd phrase meant.

Reluctantly, as if revealing a sordid family secret, she did.

‘Revenge of the blood’ was a phrase common to the older Asian community.  It referred to seeking vengeance or retribution for a grievous wrong or injustice committed against one’s family.  The actual words implied a deep-seated desire for justice or retaliation, often driven by strong emotional or moral motives.

Such as a son who’d committed acts so heinous they went beyond disgrace to atrocity.

He had a book in his library that he’d banned his boys from reading until they came of age.  It was by a Captain Johnson and gave an accurate depiction of the true lives of privateers.  He’d read it a number of times while at sea and had committed a few passages to heart.  One read: ‘Many of their actions were so extravagant, and their barbarous cruelties so intolerable to human nature, that some have been tempted to think them monsters, and not men. They have been known to shoot men to death for diversion, with small shot, cutting and slashing them with their cutlasses, in a barbarous manner, and in the very midst of their jollity and diversion, laughing and grinning, with a kind of hellish joy.’

Ben swallowed hard over a lump of fear.

These were the men who had his boy.

The rancher wondered – and not for the first time – just how far into pirating Hugh had ventured.  It was hard to imagine, knowing Hop Ling as he did, that the young man had resisted all of the virtuous teachings of his father.  Then again there were many who rebelled and chose to reject the entirety of what they had been taught.

He’d known plenty of them and despaired of their sad ends.

They were on the move now, albeit slowly.  The plodding pace of traveling on foot never failed to gall him.  For the most part they’d journeyed in silence, exchanging words only as needed.  Mei Ling was hesitant to rest and was often in need of it.  He’d soon learned to use his ‘advanced age’ as an excuse to stop.  The last respite they’d taken had been beside a rambling spring.  He’d taken the opportunity then to ask the young woman how she’d found him and Hop Sing – and how she knew where to take him now.  The answer to the first question was simple – she’d followed Hugh to the Ponderosa and been watching them for some time.  As to the second she explained that, while captive, she’d overheard the privateers’ plans.

She’d told them to Hop Sing as well.

Ben shook his head.  He found it impossible to believe – no matter how driven by custom – that Hop Sing could kill his own brother or that he could kill anyone for that matter!  In the time he’d known the Asian man, he’d evidenced nothing but kindness and gentleness.  Hop Sing was humble.  He was steadfast and generous to a fault.  He was also – and this was the thing that stood out the most when it came to caring for and, indeed, parenting his three boys – forgiving.

How could the Asian man not forgive his own?

**********

The spring night was cool and the sky, brilliant.  Outside his father’s siheyuen a soft rain fell.  It was the kind of rain that brought life and so was much welcomed. Within the Hé household all was quiet – until just past midnight when a sharp cry announced his mother’s labor had ended and Hui Fu, the last child of Hop Ling, had been born.  Most welcome was the rain but even more auspicious was the full moon that dominated the sky.  A baby born under a full moon was counted as a sign of good fortune and blessing.

Hop Sing sighed.

He was now old enough to understand the irony of the gods, if not to approve.

Their home with its central court surrounded by rooms and halls in which they lived and cooked was modest, though considered more by some.  Its sturdy sides were made of wood; the roof tiled and decorated with intricate carvings painted by hand.  There were times he longed for it still even though it had been his choice to leave all behind.

Hop Sing wondered now about that choice; the one that compelled him to leave China.  At the time it seemed there was no other way.  Powerful men consumed by greed and a lust for power had exhausted their land. Where abundance once flourished, scarcity took its place; where scarcity ruled, money was nowhere to be found, and without money, work ceased to exist. As eldest son he knew it was his right to inherit all his father owned.  He knew as well that there would be nothing left to inherit if something was not done.  So he sacrificed that right and crossed the ocean to the land of the white men where gold was plentiful in order to make a new life for himself.  His intention was to grow rich enough to return to China one day and save their land.

This was not to be.

Instead, his father, mother, and most of his brothers and sisters followed him to America where opportunity proved as fleeting as a bird in one’s hand.  Still, all lived and thrived and had shelter and food; and though they did not have their land, they had each other.

All but the one who was no longer one with them.

The one who was dead and yet, must die.

The one whose life he had been charged by the elders to end.

Hop Sing’s hand dropped to the pouch firmly affixed to the cloth belt of his changpao.  The soft material bulged beneath his fingers, at war with the weapon it held.  The sharpened blade had begun to work its way through the silk, wishing to be revealed – challenging him to put it to its proper use.

He had a choice to make; one that was not without pain – this day a son of Hop Ling must die.

His choice must be whether it would be his errant younger brother.

Or himself.

 

---

 

Chapter Ten

 

It was a rather uncomfortable position – standing with one’s hands high above one’s head – but the occasion seemed to call for it.

“Are you thnkin’ what I’m thinkin’ he’s thinkin’ is what he’s thinkin’?” Hoss asked out of one side of his mouth – earning the big man a poke in his ribs with the sharp tip of an Indian spear to remind him not to speak unless spoken to.

It was a good thing Hoss had lots of padding!

“White man tell Winnemucca again what he do on Indian land!”

“Permission to speak?”  When Adam’s request was granted, he began, “First of all, this is our father’s land and not – ”

This time it was him who was prodded like a stubborn cow.

“Cartwright not answer chief! He need answer question chief ask!”

“No, it didn’t,” he admitted.  “I made a statement instead and an…important…one considering our current predicament.”

They were being held dead center of a ring of powerful Paiute warriors who had seemingly sprouted whole from out of the ground.  The search party had been easily overcome while still encamped for the night; each and every one of them trussed up like steers and dumped in a lump to await the Indian chief.  Upon Winnemucca’s arrival just after dawn he and Hoss had been culled from the pile and brought to stand before him.

For judgment it seemed.

“No one own land,” the chief countered.  “Land belong to everyone.”

Ah, there was the rub!

“In a way, I agree,” Adam replied.  “God owns the land, but the deed our pa holds says he’s entitled to what and who can trespass on this part of it.”

The chief made a dismissive gesture.  “White man law.”

“Our pa has been more than fair,” he stated.  “He has offered Winnemucca one portion of land to settle on in the winter and another in the summer.  Our father has promised the Paiute’s chief that the white man will not bother him or his people while they are here.  Have we not protected you from other white men before – and driven them off?”

The chief nodded.  “This is true.”

“So why would you think we mean you harm now?’

Winnemucca tossed his head in the direction of the remaining ‘lump’ of men.  “What about other white men?”

“Chief, you know Deputy Roy.  He’s come here before with our father.  The others, well, they are men who offered to help us search for Little Joe.”

Winnemucca scowled.  “You not know where Little Joe is?”

Adam steeled himself.  “…no.”

The native’s eyes narrowed.  He growled low in his throat.  “Then it a good thing Winnemucca knows where daughter is!”

After that he laughed and laughed and laughed.

Adam blew out a breath.

Such was the knife’s edge upon which one’s life hung.

Once he got hold of himself, Winnemucca asked, “Why Ben Cartwright’s sons think Little Joe here?’

“Pete Thompson is with us,” Adam replied.  “He believes the people who took Joe were headed to this land.”

“How he know?’

“I’m…”  The black-haired man glanced at his brother.  “We’re not entirely sure.”

“So how you know this man take you to the right place?”

Adam shifted one aching shoulder.  “Truth is, we’re not entirely sure about that either.  Say, chief, can we put our arms down?’

Hoss seconded that request with a hopeful nod.

The chief stroked his beardless chin with deeply tanned fingers.  ““Winnemucca not know….  Maybe he not entirely sure either.”

“Hoss is keeping an eye on Pete.  We had little choice.  Without him, we had no direction to go.  Pete wants that piece of land to the north of here.  We’re counting on the fact that he’s doing this to impress pa so he’ll sell it to him.”

“Not fact.”

Shrewd.

“No, it’s not a fact.  Just a…hope, I guess.”

“Is it okay if’n I say somethin’?” Hoss asked.

Winnemucca nodded.

“Our pa ain’t with us, case you didn’t notice.  He’s takin’ another path just in case Pete ain’t tellin’ the truth.”

“Father look for Little Joe too?”

The big man nodded.  “We’re powerful worried about little brother.”

Winnemucca’s brows jumped toward his feathered crown.

Adam winced before speaking.  He hoped his words were not out-of-place.  “Was Winnemucca not young once?  Did he not challenge his father’s rules?  Was he not…reckless?”

The chief smiled.  “Winnemucca was not reckless once – he was many times!”  He made a gesture.  At it, his men stepped back.  “You believe little brother is in danger?’ he asked as he indicated they could lower their arms.

“We sure hope not,” Hoss said as he rubbed his to return the circulation.

Adam resisted doing the same since he thought it might be taken as a sign of weakness by the warriors encircling them.  “We took in a young Asian man.  We didn’t know at the time that he was a fugitive or that there were men after him. These men broke into our house.  They took him and Joe.”

“Bad men.”

“Yes.  Very bad men.”

“You want Winnemucca to find bad men and kill them?”

Adam blinked but kept his composure.  He held the chief’s gaze, knowing to look away would also be seen as weakness.  It was the law of the jungle and of the West – the last one standing won.

“I thank you for your…kind offer, but we can take care of our own – as you would in similar circumstances.”

The chief nodded gravely before turning to dismiss his men.

A moment later he and Hoss were alone.

“Whew!”  The big man blew out a breath.  “I remember the first time I saw an Indian I thought they was about the scariest things I’d ever seen – and I was right!”

Adam agreed.  He’d just grown experienced enough not to admit it.

“You think they’re really gone?” his brother asked.

Who knew?  The Indians had no reason to care whether or not Little Joe was found.  In fact, Winnemucca might take a quiet joy in Joe being shanghaied into a pirate’s life.  Still, it would not surprise him if the Paiute chief set one or two of his men on their tail.

Which might work to their advantage should things go downhill.

**********

It was early morning; so early the birds had yet to rise.  Jing-rou loosened the belt of her cheongsam robe and dropped the soft garment to form a puddle around her small feet. She stood for a moment enjoying the freedom of nakedness, before reaching for the identity she had chosen to wear since the death of her first husband.  First she pulled her long shining hair into a tail and wound it into a tight roll, which she fastened at the back of her head with two gold and pearl pins.  Next came her undergarments, and then the ivory shirt and dark trousers that belonged to the man whose place she had taken.

The man who had made her what she was.

Over the shirt she placed a fine silken garment emblazoned with the sign of her power – the rugosa rose.  Also called the ‘Japanese rose’, the rugosa was known for the sharp thorns that covered nearly every part of it.  One would take care before they touched it.

No one would touch her.

After that she donned the sash of her authority and then the cloth belt from which hung the weapons of her trade – a fine cutlass; its golden handle inlaid with mother of pearl, a silver pistol, and a narrow dirk slender as the child she had once been.  She took time to pull on her silk stockings and broad leather boots; savoring the sensuous nature of each.  Last of all she placed a black beaver-pelt tricorn hat upon her head.

Jing-rou turned to the bronze mirror near her and observed the figure she cut.  A tuck here, a pinch there, and she was ready to emerge into the growing light.

Ready, that is, after she tilted the hat at an appropriately rakish angle on her head.

The pirate queen paused at the door of her tent to adjust her attitude as well.  It would not do for her face to reflect what was written in her heart.  She had known many lovers.  After so many men had been thrust upon her, choosing her own – using them as they had used her – was one of the only joys she knew.

Joy was like the beauty of flowers and the passing of water.  It did not last.

Power did.

In a world of men she had become not a man, but a captain of men.  All cowered when she appeared.  All fell at her feet in fear.  All were in awe of her.

All but one.

In the end he was the only one that mattered.

Jing-rou closed her eyes and drew several deep breaths, seeking her center.

It was most unfortunate.

Today that one must die.

**********

“You should get some sleep, son.  You look just about dead on your feet.”

Adam turned toward his father’s trusted friend, Roy Coffee, and offered him a weak smile.  “Could you rephrase that?’

Roy chuckled.  “I just mean you ought’ a go get forty winks while we’re waterin’ up.”

They’d stopped at dawn after only a few fitful hours of sleep.  Most likely Roy was as weary as he was after being trussed up for nearly a day.

“How about you?”

The deputy huffed.  “We lawman don’t know the meanin’ of tired.  We ain’t soft like you cowpunchers.”

He said it with a smile.  Adam knew it was meant as a joke.

“I’ll trade you an angry steer stuck in brambles for a down-and-out outlaw any day.”

Roy clapped him on the shoulder as he moved past, headed for the stream that ran nearby.  “I’ll keep that in mind next desperado wanders into the territory.”  The lawman had only gone a few feet when he turned back to ask. “Say, where’s that giant of a brother of yours?’

“Hoss?  He…had to take care of business.  He’ll be back in a minute.”

Roy could see right through him.  “You tell that brother of yours to be right careful with that ‘business’, you hear?’

Never lie to a lawman.

Just as Roy disappeared – much to his relief – Hoss reappeared.

“Well?” Adam asked.

“Just takin’ a leek.”

The older Cartwright laughed.

“What’s funny?”

“That’s what I told Roy you were doin – relieving yourself.”

“Did he buy it?”

“Nope.”  Adam’s left eye twitched. “Well, so much for our theory of the nefarious Snakebite Pete’s clandestine meeting.”

The big man rolled his eyes.  “I sure do wish you’d speak English now and then.”

“I am.  What you speak is ‘American.  What I mean is…”

“Whether you believe it or not, older brother, I know what you meant.  Pete didn’t meet with no one.  Still….”

“Yes?”

“He looked like he was expectin’ too and no one showed.”

“Ah.  So he bears watching after all – to see if he wanders off again.”

“You want me to do that?’

Adam considered it.  “I think so.  If I were to follow him, Pete would be suspicious.”

“And he ain’t with me?  I don’t like him neither.”

“But I don’t think Pete knows that.  I’ve been with Pa during negotiations.  Pete knows my opinion of him as well as my opinion of pa selling him that land or any land.”

Hoss took his hat off to scratch his thinning hair.  “I guess you’re right there.  I know him mostly from the settlement and the one or two times he came out to the ranch lookin’ for Pa.”

Adam clapped his brother on the shoulder.  “Do you think you can hold it until the next time Pete has to go?” he asked with a smile.

The big man snorted.  “Brother, I can hold it long as a Texas mile!”

Someone cleared his throat, startling them.

“Ahem.”

He and Hoss turned as one to find the aforementioned Snakebite standing directly behind them.

“Yes?” Adam asked, quickly masking his surprise.

“I came to tell you we’re ready to saddle up.”

“Oh…okay.  Thanks.”

Pete looked from him to Hoss and back.  “I know you don’t like me – either of you.  Fact is, I ain’t given you any cause to.”

He and Hoss exchanged a glance before he responded.  “Oh?  How’s that?’

“You know I want that piece of land your pa has for sale powerful bad.”  Pete’s fingers nervously rounded the rim of his gray Stetson hat.  “I ain’t gonna lie and tell you that ain’t true.  You probably think I’d do just about anythin’ to get it.  Ain’t that right?’

What did one say to that?

“Well, I’m here to tell you that you ain’t wrong – up to a point.  That piece of land is what I need to get the gal I want to marry me, so it’s mighty important.  Her people are mighty important too and they don’t think much of a cowpoke like me wantin’ to wed their daughter.  If I had land….  If I had a spread of my own worth spittin’ at, it would mean a lot.”

“And you’re telling us this…because?”

“Because I ain’t no outlaw or killer.  Sure, I’ve turned a trick or two, maybe lied, and sure enough took advantage, but…well…even marryin’ my gal ain’t worth no one’s life. I wouldn’t do that to Little Joe.”  Pete drew in a breath and straightened up to his full – if somewhat lacking – height.  “I’m here to tell you that I ain’t pointin’ you toward the sunset with no horse to ride.  I’m here to help find Little Joe, plain and simple.”

“And maybe Pa would be grateful enough to sell you that land if you did?” Adam asked.

Pete grinned, showing a few missing teeth.  “Maybe.”

Adam considered it a moment before thrusting out his hand.  “Truce?  At least until Joe is found.”

“Peace,” Pete said, “even after.”

He and Hoss watched Snakebite Pete walk away.  Once he’d disappeared into the group of men readying to ride, the big man spoke.

“You believe him?”

The black-haired man pursed his lips.  “You know what they say.”

“What ‘they’?’

He threw his hands in the air.  “They.  You know, ‘they’!”

“Ok, don’t get a burr under your saddle. What do they say?’

Adam’s gaze sought out Pete Thompson, finding him just as the cowpoke mounted.

“Actions speak louder than words.”

**********

Joe stumbled and was struck for it.

“You will wait here and you will not move!”  Chen-mo commanded as he moved past.  “Move and you die!”

Joe was tempted to snap back.  He kind of doubted he’d been brought to Jing-rou’s tent just to have his head lopped off.

Still, there was no reason to take the chance….

He sure hoped a nod wasn’t considered an unauthorized ‘move’.

Chen-mo glared at him before disappearing.

It was not long until the pirate captain appeared.  She circled him several times before stopping directly in front.

“Speak!” she commanded.

“Whatever it is Hugh offered you to save my life, I won’t accept it,” he said without preamble.

Captain Thorn’s dark eyes narrowed.  “And what makes you think Hui fu offered this one anything?”

Joe’s jaw tightened.  “Hugh’s my friend.  I know he did.”

“You would be wise to take better care who you choose as a friend.”

Joe snorted. “You sound like my pa.”

“And is your ‘pa’ not wise?”

The teenager wrinkled his nose. “Yeah, but he’s also…blind.”

“Your father cannot see?’

“Not where my safety is concerned.  Pa, well, he loves me but he doesn’t….”  Joe drew in a deep breath.  “He doesn’t trust me.  Not really.”

“Are not love and trust one and the same?” the pirate captain asked.

“Yes…and no.  Like I said, love can blind a person to the facts.  I’m not a child anymore.  Pa can’t see that.”

Her gaze traveled the length of his frame.  “How old are you, son of Benjamin Cartwright?”

“Sixteen.”

There was a pause before she nodded.  “Old enough.  Go on.”

“Yeah, I’m old enough to make my own choices – and live with the consequences.”  Joe paused, taking time to consider what he was about to say.

He said it anyway.

“Like Hugh did when he chose that other girl over you.”

It was a guess.

He knew it was a good guess when Jing-rou nearly took his head off.

“How dare you speak of that which you do not understand, nàn hài!” she shouted as she lifted her hand.

“I’m not a boy!”  Joe winced, waiting for the blow to fall.  “And I do know.  I’ve been in love.”

She withheld her hand but snorted, showing her disdain.  “What does a xiǎo gǒu like you know of love?”

“This ‘puppy’ knows it hurts when it ends.  I know you can’t take a breath without thinking about what you’ve lost.  I…know you think you can’t live.”

Of course, he wasn’t going to admit to her that he was thinking of the passing of his childhood horse.

Captain Thorn’s jaw tightened.  “Hé Hui fu means nothing to me!”

“Then why do you want to hurt him?”

They were nearly of a height and stood eye to eye.

If looks could kill….

“Perhaps I will hurt you instead,” she warned.

Joe forced a smile.  “Well, you could do that, but I don’t think I’d be much good to you dead.”

Jing-rou held his gaze before stepping back.  This time her appraisal of his form made him uneasy.

She seemed to like what she saw.

“So?” she asked.

“So…here’s the deal.”  Joe swallowed hard.  Pa would kill him – if he lived long enough to be killed.  “You let Hugh go and I’ll stay and…take his place.”

Amusement struck flint in her dark gaze.  “You would become a pirate?  Joseph Cartwright, son of the upright and moral Benjamin Cartwright?”

He shrugged.  “Ask anyone. They’ll tell you I’m more like my ma than my pa.”  Joe said a prayer for forgiveness in case his mother was watching.  “Ma came from New Orleans.  Pa met her in a saloon.”

Jing-rou chuckled. “So perhaps, not so upright and moral.”

The teenager tensed.  This part hurt.

“I’m not what you think I am.”  He drew himself up a little taller. “I’ve been around.”

Jing-rou was twice his age.  Maybe a little more.  Still, she was slender as a girl and beautiful as a sunset over the mountains.  The older woman studied him for a moment before leaning in and saying in a low husky whisper, “Around where, shuài gē?”

Hop Sing called him that, ‘handsome boy’.

But with a whole different meaning.

Joe swallowed again.  His heart was racing and he felt beads of sweat forming on his brow. He had this scheme cooked up.  He’d offer to become a pirate and get Jing-rou to release Hugh.  He was sure his father and brothers were hot on his trail and would find him soon.  They’d rescue him before anything…happened…and the story would have a happy ending.

The teenager blinked as the pirate captain’s hand slipped into his shirt.  He couldn’t help it.  He shuddered with pleasure as her fingers caressed his skin – until she tweaked one of his nipples.  Her lips found his as he yelped and silenced them with a forceful kiss.

Then she stepped back.

“A most tempting proposition.  It is one I will consider.”

“Huh?” he asked, somewhat breathless.  “You’ll let Hugh go?’

“Jing-rou will consider not removing his head from his shoulders. That is all this one will say.”  She held his gaze.  “This one could kill Hui Fu and take you anyway.  Do you acknowledge this?’

“Yes…Captain Thorn.’

Jing-rou laughed as she headed for the tent door.  The sound, while bell-like, was chilling.

“And that is why this one will not kill you both.”

 

---

 

Chapter Eleven

 

Little Joe was not with him, a fact that terrified Hui Fu.  He knew his former lover and her tiger-like pursuit of handsome, young, and inexperienced men.  He should, for he had been one.

He was no more.

When a tiger roars, the wind rises.

He had been a little older than his friend when the pirate captain chose him.  Though he considered himself wise and worldly at the time, he had been a babe.  In the beginning her attentions were both pleasurable and profitable; his reward for ‘services rendered’ the finest of their pirate plunders: wine, food and clothing.  The pirate crew spoke of him behind his back – he knew this – calling him Jing-rou’s ‘xiǎo xiān ròu’ or ‘little fresh meat’.  He did not care.  Life had left him powerless and Captain Thorn’s attentions offered him power.

Still, flowers do not stay red for a hundred days.

Perhaps it was the way in which his parents had reared him – or, even more so – the influence of his older brother in the days before Hé Xing went away.  In time he tired of the fine clothes; the rich wine and food.  In time he longed for that which power could not buy.

Hui fu sighed.

The memory was clear.  His mother kept a caged song-thrush in their home. As a child he had delighted in its song.  As he grew, the small brown and white bird sang less often and one day, fell silent.  He knew why now.

She could no longer sing a song of freedom for her captor.

It was at this time Mei Ling came to the Yue Ying.  At first she meant nothing to him.  She was no different from the gold and jewels they had plundered; a prize of untold value whose ransom would make them rich.  When Jing-rou informed him Mei Ling was not to be ransomed but consigned to the darkness below with the other woman, he was puzzled.

Chen-mo and the crew were angry.

They wanted her father’s gold.

A month passed before they anchored near Yerba Buena, off of the coast of California to take on supplies.  While dining at an inn, a member of the crew approached him.  Liang Xun explained that he and the others intended mutiny.  They would take Mei Ling from Captain Thorn and return with her to China where they would demand an emperor’s ransom from her family.

That was Liang Xun’s plan.

It was not his.

He did not want her ransomed.

He wanted her to be his.

In the short time Mei Ling had been aboard the Yue Ying, he had lost his heart to her.  For the first time in his life he thought first not of himself, but of another.  He agreed to join the mutineers.

He would betray those who betrayed Jing-rou so that he could save the woman he loved and make her his own – if she would have him.

“Is Hé Hui fu prepared to die?” a husky voice inquired.

The weary man looked up to find his former lover towering over him.

“You cannot kill one who is already dead,” Hui replied; his tone wooden.

“Just so.”  Jing-rou knelt so she was on his level.  Taking hold of his chin, she forced him to meet her gaze.  “Still, this one can kill the Jiangshi’s living friend.”

He stiffened.  “This one…asks that you do not.  This one will even be so bold as to ask….”

“Yes?”

“That Jing-rou let Little Joe go.”

The pirate captain’s smile was that of the tiger that knows it has won.  “You ask a boon?”  She entwined the fingers of her free hand in his hair.  “Tell me.  What has Hui fu done to deserve this?”  Her grip tightened, causing him pain. “Tell me why this one should not run a sword through his heart as Hui fu ran a sword through hers!?”

The weary man winced but held her fierce gaze; unafraid.  “If this one did so, it would be a sword of truth. Jing-rou never loved Hui fu.”

He did not know what reaction he expected.  He was startled by the one he got.

She said nothing.

Emboldened Hui continued.  “This one was chosen to fill a need, as were many before him.  Jing-rou knows it is a need that can never be filled.”

The beautiful woman glared at him before releasing his head with a jerk.  “You dare to talk to your captain in such a way?

“You are no longer my captain,” he replied, his words soft.  “Hui Fu dares to speak so to his executioner.”

“Perhaps this one will choose not to kill.”

“And what would Chen-mo say to that?  And the others?  If Jing-rou points at a deer and calls it a horse, who then will listen when she calls a deer a deer?”  He shook his head.  “No pirate captain rules the seas with mercy.  Let me die.  In death I may yet restore honor to the family I defiled.”

“Can honor feed the belly or stop the blood of a wound?” Jing-rou countered.  “What is honor but a word used by men with none?”

“Better to be a broken piece of jade than a whole tile,” he said,

“Better to be a broken man alive than a worthy one dead,” she countered,.

Once, he would have agreed.  Once, he believed it was so.

No more.

Captain Thorn closed her eyes and remained silent for a moment.  The air was chill and bore her sigh away in a cloud like the moist breath of the dragon.

Opening her eyes, she looked to the sky.  “It is almost dawn.”

“Yes.”

She glanced at him.  “Chen-mo will perform the duty.”

“This is right.”

“Meeting was hard,” she said, her jaw tight.  “Parting is also hard.”

“The peach blossoms will still smile in the spring,” he reminded her.

“Perhaps,” she answered, “but they will not smell as sweet.”

Then, she was gone.

**********

Had Hui fu lifted his head and looked to the left he would have witnessed a stirring in the leaves of the tall grasses that bordered the pirate’s camp.  Though the dawning day promised to be clear and without rain, the one who caused them to stir them was himself caught in a tempest.

His youngest brother was to be executed at dawn.

The responsibility was no longer his.

This day his family’s honor would be restored.

Or would it?

Water can carry a boat but it can also overturn it.

What Hop Sing had expected to find at the end of the long road to Zhìming Hé’s prodigal was not what he found.  His brother was no longer a pirate but the privateer’s prisoner – and not only their prisoner but one condemned to die.  All he need do is wait. There would be no use for the poison or the knife he carried.  His brother’s blood would not be on his hands.  He would return to his family to bear witness to Hui Fu’s end.  The ‘revenge of the blood’ would be complete without his taking action; their family’s honor restored.

And yet wind words, wind language.

He’d heard what Hui Fu said.  ‘Better to be a broken piece of jade than a whole tile.’

Better to die in peace than to continue living in pain.

Mistah Cartwright’s words returned to him upon that wind as Hop Sing looked upon his youngest brother; beaten, broken, this once-beloved child’s form bound to a tree.

“So you know the story of the prodigal son then? The story of a son who disgraced his family, who squandered the money his father gave him on abandoned living; a man whose unrighteous actions were often malicious in intent; a man who flaunted society’s standards in every way.  In other words, an unwise fool who was completely faithless and who deserved his family’s censure and his father’s wrath. And so, what did the prodigal’s father do?  Did he turn his back on his son?  Did he reject him for his sins, or did he wash them away and make his son a new man with forgiveness?”

Is forgiveness not the fragrance the violet sheds on the heel of the one who has crushed it?

The tempest raged driving Mistah Ben’s words around him; mingling them with those of his father and all the Hé fathers who had come before.  From the day he was old enough to comprehend, the honor of ‘family before all’ had been pounded into him with the ferocity of a male rain.

‘When the family is harmonious, all affairs will prosper.’ 

‘Deeply sinful and guilty, the unfilial son.’ 

‘Wealth of ten thousand gold cannot compare to the virtue of filial piety.’ 

And yet, also this – ‘A thousand pieces of gold can buy bones, but ten thousand pieces of gold cannot buy a heart.’

A broken and contrite heart was without price.

What it would mean for him, Hop Sing did not know.  Perhaps he too would become a prodigal – a pariah unwelcome and unloved by those who meant most to him.  Once, this had mattered.

Looking upon the wrecked xiao didi he loved.

It did no longer.

**********

Ben had the strongest presentiment of disaster ahead.  He had no reason to believe so.  It was just a feeling in his gut and it troubled him more than he could say.  One son lay ahead of him, held in uncertain circumstances.  The other two were behind somewhere, supposedly following his trail.

For whom did the bell toll?  Was it for one of them or for someone else?

Or was he just a foolish old man?

He blew out a sigh and ran a hand along the back of his neck.

“Mister Cartwright need to rest?” Mei Ling asked.

They had been on the move for God knew how long.  Yes, Mister Cartwright needed a rest.

But he wasn’t going to take one.

“No.  No, I’m fine.  Let’s keep going.”

She turned to look at him.  “Mister Cartwright mouth says one thing.  Heart means another.”

Mei Ling was a beautiful girl.  The rising light struck her petite form, adding color to her pale skin and striking bronze fire in her blue-black hair.  Her large black eyes shone from a face ivory as the moon, while her lips were red as cherries.  At first he had thought her soft; the child of luxury and wealth. This journey had taught him otherwise.  Like willow branches that are supple and easily bent, she withstood the strong winds of adversity without breaking.

No wonder Hugh had fallen in love with her.

He placed a hand on his chest.  “My heart will hurt until I find my son.  We must keep going.”  Ben glanced up to find the first light breaking in the sky.  “A new day is dawning.”

If possible, Mei Ling grew even paler.

“What is it?” he asked.

Her jaw clenched. In those dark eyes there was a memory; something that haunted her.

“Mei Ling, what is it?”

“Mister Cartwright not know what Mei Ling knows or what her eyes have seen.”  She shook her head.  “He not want to know.”

“Tell me.”

“Code among pirates very strict. Stricter still with Jing-rou.  If pirate give his own orders or not obey one she give, Chen-mo’s sword would be quick to remove dishonorable one’s head from shoulders.”

“You mean she has men beheaded for simply disobeying?” he asked in disbelief.

“And for many other things as well.”  Her gaze went to the rising light.  “Always at dawn, as dawn is most auspicious time of day to begin again.”  Mei Ling shuddered.  “This one fears much for Hui fu.”

“Would they harm Joe…?”  Ben stopped what he had been about to say.  The young woman had worries enough of her own without piling his on top of them.

“Not know about honorable Mister Cartwright’s son, but doubt Jing-rou would have Mistah Joe killed.  Son’s life worth much to you and therefore worth much to Jing-rou.”

“You think she will try to ransom Joseph?”  The thought was almost a relief.

“Ransom…or take away.”  She shrugged.  “Maybe keep for self.”

“Keep?”

“Jing-rou like young men.  She keep the ones she like as she did Hui Fu and use them until she tire of them.  Then throw them away.”  Her tone softened.  “Mei Ling hope this not end for Mister Cartwright number three son.  This one hope dawn does not bring inauspicious beginning to kind man’s family.”

Ben teetered as if of a sudden the ship he sailed on had listed hard to starboard.  Joseph was sixteen; more than a boy, but barely a man.  The sea was a harsh mistress.  Harder still were the men who sailed her.  A young man like Joseph – slight of build, trusting, and beautiful as his late mother – might easily be blown off-course and wrecked for life there.

“I won’t let that happen,” he vowed.  “I won’t.”

“Mei Ling much sorry.  She cause of Mister Cartwright’s unhappiness.  Jing-rou never come to Ponderosa if not for her.”  She touched his arm. “Mei Ling promise she will die before she let crew of Yue Ying take Mister Joe to sea.”

He placed his hand over hers.  “I don’t want you to die, Mei Ling.  Nor Hugh.  God will make a way.  You’ll see.”

Her smile was fragile.  “It is difficult to go against the will of heaven.”

“Oh, I don’t ever try to do that,” he said.  “I simply trust that life is the will of heaven.”

“Mister Cartwright’s sons very lucky to have him.”

“Ben,” he said.  “Please, call me Ben.”

“Ben?  Mister…Ben.  Okay?”  At his nod, her smile broadened.  A second later it faded away entirely.  “Now, Mister Ben we must go.”

Mei Ling was young and moved quickly, passing into the trees.

He followed more slowly, age and fear weighing him down.

“Please, Lord,” the rancher whispered as he walked. “Don’t let the toll of that bell be for Mei Ling.”

**********

“It is almost time, sǐ guǐ.”

Hui looked up.  “Chen-mo tells this one nothing he does not already know.  This one does not care, for he is already dead.”

The other man took him by the throat.  “Hui fu imagines himself one of the Jiangshi.  There will be no return from the dead once this….”  Jing-rou’s second-in-command thrust hard, knocking Hui’s head against the tree he was bound to as he pressed the sharpened edge of his cutlass into his skin.  “Once this takes the si gui’s head from his dishonorable shoulders!”

“Do it now,” Hui pleaded.  “Let this end.”

Chen-mo glared at him before removing the blade.  Its sharpened edge left a thin trail of blood behind.

“If this one had his way, Hui Fu’s head would have left his shoulders long ago,” the pirate snarled.  He cleaned the blade on his pant leg before thrusting it back into its scabbard.  “This one has honor.  He obeys.”

Hui looked beyond the strongly built man at the pirate camp.  It contained a half-dozen tents that held twice as many men.  Most of the privateers had been sent on a scouting mission the night before and were not expected back for several days.  Jing-rou’s tent was the largest and placed at the center for protection.  Before the captain’s tent was an open space. This is where he would meet his end.  Though the crimson fingers of dawn had begun to pull back night’s mantle, the others who remained in the camp had not stirred.  These were cooks and other laborers, those who were thought of as nothing.

In the end it would be him, Jing-rou and Chen-mo, which was justice.

Hui closed his eyes and breathed in his last air.  Nearby a bird sang.  The song washed over him, soothing his troubled spirit…until he recognized it.

It was the song of a Chinese thrush.

“You do not ask about your friend,” Chen-mo said as he tightened his weapons’ belt.  “Is the white xiǎo’s fate of no consequence to you?”

It was but he’d feared to ask.  On a whim Jing-rou could have had Little Joe killed. Still, this he doubted.

She would have paraded his body in front of him before now.

The powerful pirate spat.  “He has found favor in Jing-rou’s eyes.”

Bitter was the root of those words.

Among the pirates there were rumors that Chen-mo’s passion for Jing-rou was not that of a second-in-command for his captain.  Many said he served her like a puppy, content with the scraps left over after others had feasted at her table.

“She means to take him with her?” Hui asked.  “Joe would not choose this!”

Chen-mo snorted.  “He has taken the Black Medicine.  There is no choice to be made.”

Hugh’s anxious gaze returned to the captain’s tent.  He had not seen Joe since the night before.  The Black Medicine, known to white men as opium, brought sleep.  In too high a dose it could also bring death.

“Do you still desire to die?” the pirate asked with a sneer.

“Do you?”

The words came from nowhere.  The voice was neither his nor Chen-mo’s.

Hui realized at that moment that the song of the Chinese thrush had ended.  The forest was still; so still he heard the heavy thud of his heart beating against the bony cage that contained it.  Chen-mo stiffened.  He drew his sword and turned in one swift movement.

No one was there.

The pirate looked from left to right before advancing toward the sentinel trees that blocked the rising light.  He stopped near the edge, cloaked in shadows; his lean body tense and his senses keen as that of the tiger.

“Show yourself!” he commanded.

The only answer was the shifting of one shadow within many.

Chen-mo glanced at him before advancing into those shadows.  Jing-rou’s second-in-command moved with confidence, his entire being focused on his prey.  As he watched Hui recalled the words of his older brother. ‘The tiger has much power, but it has weakness as well.  Its weakness is born of the strength of its single-minded pursuit.  The tiger has little patience and knows only one direction.  It wins only if its prey is not subtle.’

The Asian man strained against the ropes that held him; his body tense as a bow string. He waited – breath held, full of questions.  One minute passed…two.  It felt an eternity until the shadows shifted to reveal a man.

It was not Chen-mo.

The stranger crossed the ground between them quickly and began to work at the ropes that bound him to the tree.

“Who are you?” Hui demanded.  “Why have you come?”

“Ask questions later.  No time now.”

“Did you kill Chen-mo?”

The man’s hands hesitated in their work.  His sigh was carried on the wind.  “Most unfortunate. This one not use knife to kill.”  There was a tug on the ropes before they fell, freeing him.  “Aim for shoulder.  Miss.”

A noise caught Hui’s attention and made him turn toward the camp.  Jing-rou’s cook had exited his tent and stood before it, arms stretched toward the new day.

Soon, someone would see.

“Go!  Go now!”  Hui pleaded.  “This one is not worthy!  Jing-rou will hunt you down and kill you!”

The stranger’s reply was odd.  “This one will not go without Hé Hui fu.”

“I don’t know who you are, but I know what you are!” Hui spat as he rose shakily to his feet.  “You are a fool!”

The man rounded the tree to stand before him.  He wore a cloak and was hooded; his face masked by that hood. “Young one does not understand.  It is the foolish man who moves mountains.  Now come.  We must go.”

Hui glanced at Jing-rou’s tent.  “This one will not leave his friend….”

The man’s voice held a determination that startled him.  “This one will not abandon Little Joe Cartwright.  This he promises.”

His unexpected savior headed for the trees and their welcome, concealing shadows.  Hui hesitated before jogging after him.  Once within the leaves’ embrace, he caught the man’s arm and drew him to a halt.

“This one will go no farther without knowing.  Who are you?  Why have you saved me?”

The man before him grew with a deep breath and diminished with a sigh.  Tanned fingers took hold of the mantle he wore and drew it back to reveal his face.

A familiar face.

“This one is Hé Xing, your brother.  And he saves you because the mandate of heaven cannot be denied.”

 

---

 

Chapter Twelve

 

“Hey there, John!”  Hoss Cartwright watched the man turn toward him.  “You got a minute?”

The look on John Thompson’s face was wary.  “Why?  I do somethin’ wrong?’

“Pshaw!” Hoss responded.  “Why would you think that?  Can’t a feller just want to talk?’

Pete Thompson’s younger brother must have taken after the other parent.  He was as different from his brother as they came.  Where ‘snakebite’ was short and stocky, with deeply tanned skin and near-black hair, his brother John was thin as a whip with the colorin’ of a Swede.  John’s thick blond hair shifted with the wind and cast a lank into his eyes.

“You Cartwrights don’t bother talkin’ to the likes of me and mine lessen you want somethin’,” he replied sullenly.

The big man made a noise.  “Now, John, you know that just ain’t true!  We done plenty of talkin’ last year at the Christmas party.  Remember?  You was tellin’ me all about that spread you want to have one day.”

The other man cast a glance at his boots and used the toe of one to kick a rock away.  “Sorry, Hoss,” he said.  “I guess I got up with a burr under my saddle today.”

“Are you and Pete not gettin’ along?” Hoss asked.  He’d witnessed a pretty heated discussion between the brothers the night before.  Not that he’d wanted to, but Adam had sent him after Pete and he’d just kind of stumbled onto it.

“Pete’s got his ideas and I got mine,” John answered cryptically.

“Well, I guess you can say the same thing for Adam and me…and Little Joe!”  Hoss chuckled but sobered quickly.  “I sure hope that little scamp is okay.”

“He is,” John replied before changing it to, “I’m sure he is.  You Cartwrights got God on your side….’specially Little Joe.”

Hoss was surprised.  “And you ‘Thompsons’ ain’t?   You go to service.  You know God’s on the side of any man who loves Him.”

The lean cowboy gave him an odd look.  “You mean that, don’t you?  You really think everyone’s equal in God’s eyes?’

“Sure I do.  It says so in the Good Book.”

“Well, I read that book to and I seem to recall it says the ‘Lord maketh poor and maketh rich’.  He sets some to be ‘among princes’ and others he leaves in dunghills.”  John’s tone took a dark turn.  “It ain’t fair.”

“No, it ain’t fair.”  He’d brought the same thing up to his pa when he was a youngin’.  Just didn’t make sense that some had so much – like them – and others had nothin’ and it seemed God wanted it that way.  “But then, life ain’t fair, at least not on this side of the veil.  God’s got His plan.  Ain’t nothin’ we can do but help it along as we can.”

John had blue eyes, near as clear as his.  They pinned him.

“You gonna keep doin’ that, Hoss, if the Chinese kill your brother?  You gonna go along with ‘God’s plan’ and call it ‘good’?!”

Hoss frowned.  There was somethin’ there – somethin’ more than one man’s journey with his Maker.

He sure wished he knew what it was.

The big man took a moment to think before he spoke.  “I done watched my Pa all these years.  He lost Adam’s ma and kept goin’.  He lost mine and did the same.  When Joe’s mama died, well, it sure enough near made him think that God was wrong, but he figured it out.  We ain’t got no control.”  Hoss placed a hand on the younger man’s shoulder.  “God ain’t gonna betray you or yours, John.  He knows what’s best.”

The lean cowboy shifted back and away from his hand.

“I know that,” John said, his blue eyes growing dark as a storm. “After all, for God to betray me He would have had to earn my trust in the first place.  Ain’t that right?”

Hoss frowned.  “You got somethin’ you want – or maybe somethin’ you ought to tell me?”

“Yeah, I got somethin’ from that Good Book of yours.  ‘A prudent man concealeth knowledge.’“ John Thompson sneered.  “Now, if you don’t mind, I need to talk to my brother.  I hear we’re movin’ on right soon.”

The big man watched the cowboy walk away.  Hoss stood for a moment contemplatin’ what he’d heard and then decided he’d better talk to Adam.  Seemed to him they might be keepin’ track of the wrong Thompson.

Maybe John Thompson weren’t no ‘greenhorn’ after all.

**********

“Wait.  Stop!”  Hui fu drew in a panting breath.  “We’re far enough away from Thorn’s camp we can stop.”

“The sea cannot be measured by a bucket,” Hop Sing replied without looking back.  He had just gripped a branch to move it out of his way when Hui Fu caught his wrist and prevented it.

“Older brother must learn to measure the water, not the waves,” Hui fu retorted.

The Asian man sighed.  “Younger brother must learn to respect older brother’s wisdom.”

They glared at each other for several heartbeats before the young man’s face broke with a smile.  “Has this one ever done so?”

Hop Sing had not allowed himself to think – to feel – until this moment; his entire being bent on getting his young brother as far away from the pirate camp as he could.  He looked at Hui Fu now – really looked – and found not the boy he had sailed away from, but a man with a life and mind of his own.  The older man laid a hand alongside his brother’s face.

“Qīn ài de,” he sighed.

Beloved.

His brother nodded even as he pulled away.  “We must return for Joe Cartwright.”

Ah.  Yes.

That one was ‘beloved’ also.

“This one must first take younger brother to a place of safety.  Then he will return.”

“No.”  Hui Fu shook his head, tossing black curls into his eyes.  “I will go alone.”

If the situation had not been most somber, the older man would have laughed.  Before him stood the lost child; the prodigal of their family.  Hui Fu was most thin, his color pale and his body battered.  He was clothed in rags and stumbled as he walked.  It was obvious he had been treated most cruelly.  Alone, he would fail.

Alone, he might fail.

Together, they would prevail.

“Would not our father say, ‘Adapt to circumstances and be at peace’?” Hui Fu asked into the silence.

“Most honorable father would say ‘reckless ignorance invites trouble.”

His brother nodded.  “Just so.  And yet, when the old man lost his horse, how could he know it would not be fortuitous?”

In Hop Sing’s mind’s eye the sea waves glistened; their white crests turned to gold by the setting sun.  The crisp sails of the junk he’d boarded snapped in the wind as the ship pulled away from the pier.  On the shore his family watched, saddened by his leaving but hopeful of what was to come.  All but one.  Hui Fu had turned his back as if denying the truth would make it otherwise.

Was he so different?

The older man assessed his young brother from top to toe. “First we must attend to your wounds.”

“I do not need….”

He placed a hand on his brother’s shoulder.  “One does not argue with wisdom.  An old horse knows the way.”

“You took the words right out of my mouth,” a familiar voice remarked as a tall white-haired figure stepped out of the shadows and into the mounting light.

Ben Cartwright rubbed his hands together.

“Now, here’s what we’re going to do.”

**********

Hoss watched as his older brother dismounted with the grace and agility of a panther.  That was Adam all over – catlike in his movements, quiet and sure and, if needed, deadly.  They’d been riding for a couple of hours and come to the place where horses weren’t gonna do them any good anymore.  The rest of the search party had secured their mounts and set about fixin’ some grub before headin’ into the trees on foot.  There were signs on the ground.  He’d seen them and kept them to himself until he could speak to Adam.  Buck had been here; their pa too, and some little gal wearin’ soft shoes that barely left a print.  Odds were Buck was tied up somewhere close by as well.  Chubb was snortin’ and strikin’ the dirt as if impatient to be reunited with his friend.

Adam inclined his head toward the ground.  “Here?” he asked.

“Yep.  They made camp and then headed that-a-way.”  Hoss indicated the trees to the north.  “What you think we ought to do?”

“Anyone else see the signs?” Ben’s eldest asked as he shuffled his boot to the side to cover the closest ones.

“I ain’t sure.  I don’t reckon.  I’ve been out ahead of everyone else.”

Adam glanced over his shoulder at the others in their party – including Roy Coffee.  “Think we can keep them off the scent?”

Hoss tugged on his hat.  “You just keep dancin’, older brother, and I’ll do my best.”

Roy Coffee was the closest to hand.  “You find anythin’, son?” the lawman asked as he approached.

“Nope.”  The big man shrugged.  “Maybe we took a wrong turn back there a ways.”

The lawman eyed him from under the brim of his gray felt hat. “You think so?”

“You remember, Deputy Roy?  Back there where the path forked?  You said they could have gone either way.”

“But this is the way to that parcel of land your pa has,” Pete Thompson countered as he joined them.

Hoss huffed.  “You keep sayin’ them pirates is on that land, Pete, but you ain’t exactly explained why you’re so dang sure.  Seems to me they could’ve gone either way.”  He rubbed his chin.  “Makes more sense for them to high-tail it into the mountains anyhow.  Less likely someone’ll catch up to them there.”

“I agree,” Roy seconded as he pinned Pete with a sharp-eyed stare.  “A man’d have to be blind as a horned owl to take somethin’ he ‘overheard’ at the Soap as gospel.  You got any other way of knowin’ for sure where Joe Cartwright is?”

Pete bristled.  “If you’re accusin’ me of something, deputy, then you better come right out and say it.’

Roy parked his square frame directly in front of the cowboy. “All right, I’m askin’ you straight-on.  Did you have somethin’ to do with Joe Cartwright and that Chinese boy bein’ kidnapped?”

Pete didn’t flinch.  “No.”

The lawman’s pale eyes narrowed.  “Maybe I best rephrase that.  Do you know somethin’ about Joe Cartwright and that Chinese boy being kidnapped that you ain’t told us?”

Snakebite squirmed a bit.

“Kidnappin’s a hangin’ offense,” Roy added quietly.

“I told him,” John Thompson declared as he joined them.  “I’m the one overheard what was goin’ on from one of the girls at the Soap.”  The younger Thompson glanced at Adam and then turned to him.  “Little Joe dropped Tabitha like a hot potato.  She was glad he was gonna get his comeuppance.”

Tabitha?

Hoss puzzled on that one as Adam turned toward him. He scratched his head for a moment and then snapped his fingers.

“Tabby!”  Looking at Adam, he said, “That’s the little gal near got –”

“Who nearly got Joe killed.”  Adam’s look darkened dangerously.  “Why didn’t you tell us this?  Tabby could be involved.  We could have questioned her before we left the settlement! If Joe is hurt…”

“Calm down, Cartwright,” John replied.  “I told you all I know.  Tabby didn’t hide nothin’.”  The young man winked lasciviously.  “You know women and pillow talk.”

Hoss blew out a sigh.  It sure was a good thing God stepped in and parted Little Joe from that one before…  Well, before things got a lot worse!

Adam had moved to confront John.  “So, let me get this straight.  You had a…dalliance…with Tabitha Tryon after her husband nearly killed Joe for even thinking of doing the same thing?”

John shrugged.  John, who was…maybe…four years older than Joe.

“Little Joe’s a stupid kid.”

Hoss watched the muscles in Adam’s back tense.

‘Hold onto that anger, older brother’, he thought.  ‘Joe’s gonna need it more than you need to beat the livin’ daylights out of that smart aleck Thompson.’

“Okay.’  Adam stepped back, almost as if he had heard him.  “So, I have one more question.”

“Shoot,” John said.

Hoss tensed afraid older brother might do just that.

“Why, on God’s green earth, would I believe a single word you say??”

“Now, Adam,” Roy Coffee chided, “you ain’t got one reason to believe this here boy ain’t tellin’ the truth.”

Snakebite seconded that quickly, backing his younger brother.

Hoss glanced at the lawman.  Roy had his ways and he’d learned to read them over the years.  The lawman was standing with his thumbs locked behind his belt, rocking back and forth on his feet.  He had that look on his face – the one pa gave Little Joe when he knew Joe was tellin’ a whopper but wasn’t gonna let the little scamp know that he knew.

“I ‘ain’t’ got one reason to believe that he is!” Adam shot back.

“Now, Adam, you just get hold of yourself.  I ain’t gonna countenance no violence, you hear?’

Older brother looked anything but contrite.  “Violence?  Me?  Why, Roy, you know I’m a peaceable man.”

“And I’m here to make sure you stay that way.”  The lawman turned to Pete and John.  “So, here’s what I propose.  You two and me and a couple of the others will go back to the fork and take that other route, while Adam and Hoss keep on with this one.  If you ain’t gonna profit by takin’ this one, then you shouldn’t have a problem with that.”  Roy paused – a little longer than was necessary.  “How’s about it?”

John’s jaw tightened but he said nothing.  Pete looked at his younger brother and then nodded – reluctantly.

“Sure,” he said.  “Don’t make no nevermind to us.” Pete’s gaze moved to Adam.  “Just remember, if you two run into trouble, it’s your own fault you ain’t got no back-up.”

Fifteen minutes later, the coffee pots were stowed, the horses untethered, and they were alone.

Adam turned to him as the search party’s hoof beats faded into nothing.  Older brother’s nose wrinkled in that way it had – the one where it wrinkled right up into his eye.

“Thoughts?” he asked.

Hoss shrugged.  “Ain’t got many.”

Adam rolled his eyes.  “About Pete and John.”

“Oh, them.  I don’t rightly know if they got somethin’ up their sleeve or not.  Could be they just come by bein’ mean as a snake naturally.”

“Crafty as a fox, you mean.”

“You think them two was involved in what happened?  I mean, in Joe and Hugh bein’ taken?’

“I would bet whatever is up their combined sleeves on it.”

Hoss looked after the men.  “You think Deputy Roy’s safe with them?”

“There are the other men in the search party.  I don’t think they’re in on anything.”

He nodded before asking, “You think Roy can keep them two off of our trail for a time?”

“I hope so.”  Adam clapped him on the shoulder. “Now, come on, brother.  Let’s get moving.  Who knows how long a ‘time’ that may be!”

**********

Ben had wanted to press on immediately but recognized – as Hop Sing did – that Hugh needed time to recover before they made an attempt to rescue Joe.  The younger man had been beaten quite severely and was obviously in pain.  Hugh fought his brother’s ministrations until Hop Sing covertly slipped an herb into the healing tea he gave him that had sent the younger Hop into a much-needed sleep.  Hugh lay wrapped in a woolen blanket beneath a bower of leaves with Mei Ling at his side.

Hop Sing had said little since they met up.  The Asian man immediately went into ‘housekeeping’ mode, making sure their temporary camp was arranged before setting about fixing them something to eat.  The two of them had consumed the mea in silence, lost in their own thoughts.

Until now.

“Hop Sing need apologize to Mister Ben for most unsavory behavior,” the Asian man said abruptly.

Ben looked up from his plate.  “Oh?  And what ‘unsavory’ behavior is that?’

“Leave camp without Mister Ben’s permission.”

The rancher shrugged as he speared the last bean on his tin plate.  “You’re a grown man.”

“Hop Sing work for Mister Ben.”

“…and that does not mean that Mister Ben controls him.”  He sighed.  “I hope you know that by now.  You are my employee and, more than that, my friend.  Not my servant.”

Hop Sing frowned.  “You no give permission for Hop Sing to leave and seek brother.”

“You no need my permission to seek your brother.  No more than I would need your permission to seek one of my sons.”  Ben choked.  “To seek my son.”

“We find Little Joe.”

“Yes,” he said as he placed the plate on the ground.  Safe, he prayed.

Hop Sing hung his head.  “This one bring much trouble to Cartwright house.”

“No more than Little Joe did.  Are you trying to tell me that you blame yourself for your brother – whom you had no way of knowing was anywhere near the Ponderosa – and the consequence of his actions?”

The Asian man’s sentiment was deep; deep as the wound he felt.  “Hop Sing’s fault.  He leave littlest brother behind when he sail for America.”

“You had a reason,” Ben reminded him.

“Have very good reason.  This one must help brothers and sisters.  Mother and father too.  To help many, he must hurt one.  Hard to know what is best to do.”

Ben pursed his lips.  He thought hard before speaking the next words.  “What made you decide not to kill Hugh; not to carry out your family’s blood revenge?  That’s why you left without me, isn’t it?  Because you knew I would disapprove.”

The Asian man’s head snapped up.  His broad face was a parchment with a half-dozen emotions written upon it – each and every one at war with the other.  Anger.  Pain.  Horror.  Fear.  Sadness.  Grief.

Grief more than anything.

“Hard for Mister Cartwright to understand.  Hard, at times, for this one to understand. “  The Asian man straightened up.  When he spoke, the words were not his own.  “‘When the family is harmonious, all affairs prosper.  When the family fails, the nation falls.’”

“And Hugh…Hui failed.”

The Asian man nodded. “This one as well.”

Ben could not hide his outrage.  “Because you refused to kill your brother?!  That’s barbarous!”

“Barbarous to Mister Cartwright.  Not to Zhìming.”

“And who is Zhìming?’

“Eldest Hé.  Head of family.”

“The head of your family?”

Hop Sing looked directly at him.  “This one has no family.  He làng zǐ now like youngest brother.”

It took a second.  “Ah.  A prodigal.”  Ben smiled.  “And is that so bad?”

“Again.  Hard for Mister Ben to understand.  ‘Jiā ting.’  For man from China, family is all.”

“Isn’t Hugh your family?” he asked; his tone gentle.

Hop Sing looked like he was drowning.

“Maybe you can think of it this way?” Ben suggested.  “While you may have lost one family, you have gained another. You have me and the boys and now, your brother, and….”  He looked to the west, to where Hugh and Mei Ling lay side by side in the grass.  “…if I am not mistaken, Mei Ling.  Is that not enough?”

Hop Sing thought long and hard before nodding.

The rancher rose to his feet.  He walked to the Asian man’s side and placed a hand on his shoulder.  “Get some rest, my friend.  We move as soon as it is light.  You will need your strength for what lays ahead.”  Ben turned in the direction Mei Ling had indicated the pirate’s camp laid.  “We all will, as well as the grace of God.”

**********

“What do you think?’  Adam Cartwright waited on his brother’s answer – impatiently.  “Well?” he demanded.

“Give me a second, dang it!”  Hoss was on his knees on the ground examining what looked to be two sets of prints.  One followed the other closely.  The second set was driven in more deeply, as if the man who left it was unwell.  There was something about the first set; something kind of familiar.

“Is it Hop Sing or isn’t it?”

“There ain’t enough light yet.  I cain’t be one hundred percent sure,” the big man said as he rose and dusted off his knees, “but I’d lay money it bein’ a China man. They got them funny shoes with wood on the bottom ‘stead of leather.”

“Well, that’s not entirely reassuring since the men who took Joe are also Chinese.”

“Yeah, but I’m bettin’ one of them wouldn’t be limpin’ bad as this one.”  He pointed to the second set of prints.

“You think that’s Joe?’

“No.  It ain’t Joe. I know every pair of boots that boy’s got.  These are kind of fancy, like some city slicker would wear.”

“So, Hop Sing and…”  Adam wrinkled his nose.  “You think…maybe Hugh?”

“Maybe, ‘ceptin’ where’s Little Joe then?”

They shared a moment of silence – a long one, pregnant with fear.

“Perhaps Hugh got away on his own.  There would be no reason he would wait for Joe.  They barely know one another.”

“That just don’t set right with me,” the big man countered.  “Hugh’s Hop Sing’s brother and we know Hop Sing wouldn’t leave no one behind.”

“Ah.  Yes.  Well, not all siblings are the same – as you well know,” Adam added with a rueful smile.

“Down deep they are.  They just forget it sometimes,” Hoss said. “Look at Pete and John.  They’s different as night and day, but brothers under the skin.”

Adam looked to the east and north.  “I wonder how Roy is doing?  Odds are, he won’t be able to keep them off our scent very long.”

“You got that right, Cartwright,” a sharp voice retorted.  “Not long at all.”

Hoss closed his eyes before turning.  He knew what he was gonna see and knew he didn’t want to see it.

“What have you done with Roy?” Adam asked as John Thompson stepped out of the trees with two pistols; one pointed at each of them.

John tossed his head back, toward the trees he had just exited.  “Left him tied up a mile or two back.  It ain’t smart to kill a lawman.”

“Even if he can identify you?” older brother asked.

Not too wisely, or so Hoss thought.

“He didn’t see nothin’,” John replied.  “I took him out while he was sleepin’.”

Adam made a face.  “What about the other men who were with you?”

“The ones that ain’t with me are the same.” John sneered.  “We took em’ in the dark and left ‘em tied up.”

“We?” Hoss asked.

“The ones who are with me!  About half of the search party are mine.  They’ll be here in a minute.”

“And Pete?”  Adam inquired.  “Where’s your brother?’

“Pete….”  He cleared his throat.  “I left Pete behind to keep watch.  He and I weren’t seein’ eye to eye.”

Hoss blew out a breath.  So they’d had been wrong all along.  It wasn’t Snakebite, but his younger ‘greenhorn’ brother who’d been cooperatin’ with the Chinese.

Older brother was just about snortin’ steam.  “What did they promise you?  Tell me what the pirates promised you for delivering Hugh and Joe to them!’

“Shows what you know.”  John laughed.  “They could’ve cared less about Little Joe.  They were after that China man.  Seems he betrayed them.  They was gonna kill anyone they found with him.  It was me what told them they could get a king’s ransom for that bratty brother of yours.  So, you two,” the gun swung from Adam to him and back, “you owe me for your brother’s life!”

“And we’re mighty grateful, John,” Hoss said before Adam could swallow his disbelief and speak.  “Joe’s mighty important to us, just like Pete must be to you.  Now, what did you say happened to Pete?”

The gun wavered – just a smidgen.  “Pete’s fine.  He’s…guarding Coffee and the others.”

“Did you two have a disagreement over the choices you made?” Adam asked.

“Maybe Pete was against them China men takin’ Little Joe?”

“Shut up, both of you!  I don’t need to tell you anything!”  John’s pale skin had gone beet-red with rage or, perhaps, shame.  “Adam, get down!  I want your face on the ground!”  The younger Thompson tossed a set of ropes at Hoss’ feet.  “You tie him up!”

The big man held his hands up.  “Okay, John.  You got it.  You’re in control.”   Hoss lowered them slowly as he leaned over to pick up the ropes.

By the time he reached Adam, older brother was laying on the ground.  They exchanged a quick glance as their hands met.

“And make it tight!” John ordered.  “I’ll be checking!”

“Better do as he says,” Adam breathed.  “A nervous finger on a trigger is never a good thing.”

Something hit Hoss’ back. He turned to look and saw a dirty kerchief on the ground.  “Gag him too.  That’ll shut his smart mouth!”

Hoss did as instructed. When done, he stood up and raised his hands again.  “Expectin’ someone?” he asked John who was pacing nervously before him.   “Maybe them men you was talkin’ about.”

“They’ll be here.”

“I expect so.  I wonder how come they’re delayed?”

John licked his lips.  “They’ll be here,” he repeated.  “Now, sit on the ground by your brother.  I’m gonna tie you up too – and keep that yap of yours shut!”

The big man nodded and did as he was told.  Adam looked sideways at him as he took a seat on the grass.  Hoss shrugged.  Somethin’ was goin’ on.  He didn’t know what.

Leastways not until the point of a Paiute arrow buried itself in the ground right beside his thigh.

 

---

 

 

Chapter Thirteen

 

What was that Scottish word old lady McDougall used when he was a kid?

Oh yeah…muddled.

His head was definitely muddled.

Joe winked and blinked and shook his curly head, but it didn’t do much good.  He just couldn’t seem to clear his thoughts or his vision or much of anything else.

Where was he?

The last time he’d opened his eyes he’d been inside.  Now, he was outside.  He could feel the grass under his feet.  So he guessed that meant he was barefoot since it would be kind of hard to feel grass between your toes with your boots on.

So, where were his boots?

He blinked and shook his head again and tried to look for them, but the motion made him gag and start to swoon.

The hands that caught him and held him upright were definitely not his pa’s.  Nor was the voice that commanded, ‘Bǎo chí bú dòng!”

That might have been Chinese but it sure wasn’t Hop Sing talking!  Still, he knew that one. He’d heard it often enough.

If whoever it was wanted him to stay still, they needed to stop the world from spinning!

Without warning fingers gripped his chin and snapped his head up.  The fingers belonged to a woman and were soft as her words were harsh.  Her nails were long and tinted red.  That was something he’d seen only a few times before – mostly on saloon girls. The woman held his chin firmly while she fingered his curls with her free hand.

“It is time to choose, Joseph Cartwright.”

Choose?

Choose what for gosh sakes?

“Speak!” the woman commanded.

Joe had never been drunk before, but he imagined this must be what it felt like.  He’d just about got a grip on himself when – like tumblin’ down a mine shaft – the ground was whisked out from under him and he fell into nothingness.  When he went down, everything else came up – including whatever was in his stomach.

The next thing he knew he was laying face-down in the grass.

A boot prodded his side.  Whoever wore it used it to roll him over so he was looking at the sky instead.

“This one is not worthy of you,” they growled.

The woman knelt beside him.  “That is not for you to say,” she remarked as her those fingernails trailed across his cheek.  “It is for this one to decide.”

Did she mean him?  Oh, yeah.  He had a choice to make, didn’t he?

Joe tried to ask what it was, but his words came out garbled.

“Mm..whdya…wnt?’

The woman shot to her feet. She glared at someone he couldn’t see.   “You have given him too much.  Did you mean to end his life?”

“I am obedient,” the unseen man replied.

“Obedient, yes, but no longer sufficient.”

Joe sure wished he’d been a spectator and not a participant in whatever was going on.  It would have been fun to watch.

He licked his lips.

Better to watch….

“The day is almost here,” the woman said and then clapped her hands, sending thunderbolts through his head.  “You will bring Han Qing to me!”

The teenager closed his eyes.  He thought it was only for a moment.  When he opened them again he was surprised to find the light was brighter.  He was no longer on his back but held in someone’s arms.  There was a stone bowl pressed against his lips.

“Drink,” the man who held him said; his tone soothing.  “Drink deep, young one.”

Whatever was in the bowl smelled like top dressing mixed with peppermint sticks. Joe turned his head.  He fought ingesting it, but the man’s grip was strong and it wasn’t any use.  The odd  mixture made him gag as it slid down his throat.

“Honorable captain must give medicine time to take effect.”

“Doc?” Joe asked, sure the foul stuff had to have come from the man who’d made every illness he had ever suffered a misery.

“How long?” the woman demanded.

“Twenty minutes.  Perhaps less, most honorable Jing-rou, if he was made to move.”

Joe swallowed over a mountain of saliva, fighting the nausea that threatened to bring up the vile stuff.   Jing-rou.  Jing-rou?  He should know that name.  Why didn’t he?  What was the matter with – ?

“Bring him to his feet!” she ordered.  “Keep him moving!”

He wanted to die, plain and simple.  Each footfall was a step taken in a nightmare world of pain and disorientation.  And yet, like a fresh breeze blowing over a meadow after a storm, the clouds began to clear.  He didn’t know how long he’d been walking when the woman’s painted fingers caught his chin again and turned his head toward her.

“Do you know me now?  Answer!”

Oh, yeah, he knew her.

“J..Jing rrrroo…”

“Just so.”  The pirate captain turned aside and gave someone a curt nod.  Seconds later Joe was on his knees.  “You will answer me now,” she ordered.

His thick brows danced.  “Sorry, ma’am.  I guess I…forgot the question.”

“This is to be expected,” Han Qing said quietly, staying the pirate queen’s hand before she could strike him.

“So.”  Jing-rou did not look happy.  “We ask it again then – most gently.  Where is Hé Hui fu?’

Joe swallowed over a wave of sickness.  “Hugh’s… not here?”

“Would this one ask if he was!?” she snarled.

Honestly, nothing Jing-rou did would surprise him.  The pirate captain was tetchy as a banty rooster.

Han Qing bowed deeply.  “This one has no desire to contradict most honorable captain, but his patient could not have aided Hui Fu’s escape.  The power of the black medicine would have prevented it.”

Joy felt a jolt of joy.  Hugh was free!

Too bad he wasn’t.

The teenager cleared his throat.  “I don’t know anything about Hugh…Hui, ma’am,” he said, his voice gaining strength.  “Honest.”

Jing-rou stood glaring down at him, her dark eyes narrowed and her jaw tight; beautiful as a storm at sunset and just as deadly.  She nodded once, as if dismissing the matter.  The second nod also dismissed Han Qing.

Joe watched the Chinese healer walk away with regret.

And speed.

Jing-rou still watched when he turned back.

“Chen-mo would have your head in place of Hui’s,” she said.  “What should I tell him?”

Hatred was written into every muscle of Chen-mo’s taut frame.  It was obvious the pirate had been through something.  His skin was pale and the upper portion of his chest, heavily bandaged.  He’d lost something.  It took Joe a moment to realize what it was.

The power that had seeped from every pore was gone.

Jing-rou’s second-in-command was a broken man.

“What should you tell him?”  Joe wrinkled his nose.  “Well, that I’d like to keep my head if at all possible.”

Jing-rou’s painted lips quirked.  “So, you accept my offer?’

“Offer?’

“Perhaps you need a reminder?”  The beautiful if deadly woman stepped forward. She brushed his lips with her fingers and then let them trail down his neck.  When they encountered his tattered shirt, she moved them inside to caress his skin.

Joe’s eyes went wide as she tweaked one of his nipples.

“Now do you remember?” she asked with wry amusement.

He didn’t, not really.  What he did remember was…well…muddled.  It was like a fever dream, full of heat and swirling images amidst pleasure and pain.  There were words.  They were few.

And yeah, there was an offer.

Jing-rou’s offer.

The pirate captain offered him her hand.  “Join with me,” she said.

The sixteen-year-old swallowed hard.  “And if I don’t?”

She glanced at the angry Chinese pirate with the sharp sword.

“This one will grant Chen-mo’s wish.”

Joe considered her proposal – for longer than he should have.  He was awful young as his pa and brothers liked to remind him.  If he gave in – if he went with Jing-rou – well, he’d be alive and maybe one day he could escape and come back home.  But, when he came back home, would he be the same Joe Cartwright?  He remembered the horrible things Hugh had done and how he’d done them without conscience; how the man he’d become was not the man he‘d been and never would be again. The teenager heard his pa’s voice speak in his ear, quoting the Good Book; reminding him of what he already knew.

‘Keep your heart with all diligence, son, for out of it are the issues of life.’

Or as Adam’s favorite writer put it, ‘to thine own self be true’.

Joe licked his lips and cleared his throat before speaking.  “Meaning no disrespect, ma’am, I don’t think I can do that.”

“You will not?’

He winced as Chen-mo’s hand dropped to the hilt of his sword.

At least it would be quick.

“Shall it be said then that the great and powerful Captain Thorn kills without warrant?” a voice called out.  “Shall it be said she has no honor?  This man has done you no wrong.”

Jing-rou and Chen-mo exchanged a glance before turning toward the man who had stepped out of the trees. The teenager blinked again to clear his head, but it wasn’t an illusion.  In the late morning light a battered but living Hui fu Hop stood fully revealed.

Little Joe Cartwright didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.

So he did both.

**********

Ben glanced at Hop Sing as they forced their way recklessly through the underbrush.  After finishing their talk they’d both fallen asleep – only to wake and discover Hugh and Mei Ling had gone.  He knew by the angle of the sun that they hadn’t slept long, but the pair was younger and had at least a half-hour’s lead.  The rancher’s lips moved in constant prayer as they journeyed.  His heart was heavy.  He could not shake the feeling of impending doom that had settled upon him the day before.  He had lost so many near and dear to his heart; he did not know if he could lose one more.  And yet, as he had told Mei Ling, he believed his God believed in life.

And with life, there was hope.

“Must hurry,” Hop Sing huffed as they fought their way through.  “Sunset is most inauspicious.”

They’d spoken of it before as they sat on the porch of the Ponderosa together watching the sun go down.  To the Chinese ‘sunset’ represented the end of the day and the passage of time.  It symbolized the cyclical nature of life and the universe and was meant to remind people of the impermanence of all things.  Of birth and growth.  Life and…

Death.

It haunted him; had hunted him at times it seemed.  As a young seaman he’d cheated the grim reaper many times.  Today, he would gladly give his life so his youngest son could live.

He only hoped he had the chance.

Hop Sing had halted. Ben began to ask him why, but fell silent when the Asian man placed a finger to his lips.  With a nod he indicated the clearing ahead.

What the rancher saw there dropped his heart to his toes.

A half-dozen small tents stood in a ring, with a larger one at the center.  In front of the large tent were several people.  The first to catch his eye was a tall, handsome Chinese woman dressed in men’s clothing.  The fading light struck her shining hair, turning the long black tresses to molten bronze.  A man stood to her left.  He was tall and powerfully built, but seemed to be in pain.  To her right, kneeling on the grass was his son.

Joseph.

The man held a blade to the boy’s throat.

“No!” Hop Sing ordered as he instinctively moved forward.  “Mistah Cartwright must remain hidden.  Not good for Little Joe if father show himself now.”

“I can’t just stand here –”

“You must!  Even as Hop Sing must.”  The Asian man inclined his head toward the impossible tableau.  “This one’s heart is there as well with Little Joe.  But, like Hop Sing, Mistah Cartwright must observe the fine hairs of autumn and foresee the firewood.”

In other words, wait.

Ben gritted his teeth.  Dear God, how he hated waiting!

He’d waited all those long days for Elizabeth to rally; to rise and embrace her new son.

He’d waited for Inger to recover, soothing her hot forehead as she battled the infectious fever that would ultimately claim her life.

And though Paul Martin told him there was no hope, he’d waited, begging and pleading and bargaining with his God until Marie drew her final breath.

Must he now watch and wait as his son died?

Ben sucked in air and shook his head.  “I can’t!  I have to do something!”

“Mistah Ben need do nothing.  Another does it for him.”

“What?”  He turned to look.  A slender figure walked toward the pirates.  “Hugh?” he asked, his voice hushed with surprise and expectation.

Hop Sing nodded even as a tear trailed down his cheek.

The rancher narrowed his eyes against the failing light.  Yes, it was Hugh.

The boy was alone.

So where was Mei Ling?

**********

“Release Joe Cartwright or lose your honor,” Hui Fu proclaimed boldly as he approached, his gaze locked on not the pirate captain but his friend.  The sixteen-year-old’s skin was pale as a pearl in the Empress Dowager’s headdress.  “This one has done nothing to warrant death.”

Jing-rou snarled.  “Near vermilion one becomes red; near ink, one becomes black.”

“I have experienced nine deaths but am still alive,” Hui replied – and he was alive, not dead as he had been for so many years.  He indicated his friend with a nod.  “This one deserves to live.”

“No man deserves to live!” she spat.

“So says she who has died many deaths.”

His former lover glared at him.  “You would take this one’s place them?”

Without hesitation, he replied, “Yes.”

Jing-rou drew close; her acid gaze black as sin left to fester.  “It would not make a difference,” she hissed.

The truth opened up as a vision before Hé Hui Fu’s eyes.  The need that had driven Jing-rou to take lovers – to use and abuse and discard dozens of men over the last twenty years – was not love but vengeance.  She had had taken no pleasure in any of them – no pleasure in him.  What she sought was not comfort or care or even pleasure.

It was retribution.

The young man’s lips curled with wry amusement.  It was not he who was the Jiangshi, it was she.  It was Jing-rou who had become one of the living dead; a walking corpse that sought to drain the life force from the living in order to sustain its rotting corpse.

Chen-mo shifted uncomfortably.  “You would take this one to yourself again?” he asked, incredulous.

Jing-rou did not look at him.  “What is it to you, duō yú?”

The wounded pirate went rigid with the insult.  He drew his sword from its sheath and brandished it.  The prospect of death gleamed in the fathomless pits of the Chen-mo’s eyes.

Whose death Hé Hui Fu could not tell – Jing-rou’s, his own, or Little Joe Cartwright’s.

Perhaps all.

**********

“I’m sorry, old friend,” Ben said; his dark eyes seeking forgiveness even as he broke free of Hop Sing’s grip and began to run, desperate to stop the horrific scene unfolding before his eyes from coming to its foregone conclusion.  He might be an old man, but he wasn’t so old that he would stand by and watch his youngest son cut down like an animal!

Blood hammered in the rancher’s ears as he raced across the clearing – pumped by a heart pounding in tune with his fear.  It deafened him to the cries of the man he’d left behind even as he turned to look at him.  Hop Sing had not moved.  He was making an odd gesture – patting the air before his waist with both hands like a man evening out dough.

Then he dropped to the ground.

Terror for his son outpaced Ben’s brain, driving him forward even as he sought to understand the Asian man’s wordless command.  What was Hop Sing doing?  Why?

And what did the Asian man want him to do?

It was at that moment the first arrow whizzed past his ear.

Startled, Ben stopped in the midst of the clearing.

“Pa!  Get down!  For God’s sake, get down!” a beloved voice shouted.  “Pa!  It’s Adam.  Listen to me!  Drop now!!”

Instinct brought Ben down hard just as another arrow flew past.  It found its target and dropped the pirate who held the sword to Little Joe’s throat.  At first he feared the boy would be hurt.  He needn’t have worried.  Little Joe was no longer kneeling in the grass.  In a heroic gesture Hugh had thrown the teenager to the ground and covered Joe’s body with his own as a shield.

Ben kept very still.  It was torture, but he counted to twenty.  No more arrows flew.  When he was certain the attack was over, he lifted his body on one arm, twisted into a seated position, and looked behind.  Standing just within the circle of the trees were a dozen deeply-tanned and powerful figures; each, with bow in hand.  Their bows were loaded and the arrows pointed toward the center of the clearing.

Directly at the pirate’s captain.

“Mistah Ben okay?” Hop Sing asked even as the Asian man’s fingers gripped his arm.

Ben nodded, unsure of his voice.

The Asian man helped him to his feet and dusted him off before speaking.  “This one apologizes for most necessary deception.  Hop Sing woke to find younger brother leaving camp.  Hui fu intend to offer himself in exchange for Mistah Little Joe.  This one beg younger brother to wait as he know Mistahs Adam and Hoss will not be far behind father.”  He shook his head and sighed.  “Hui Fu stubborn as eve and insist on going alone.  Mei Ling see all.  She scared as Hop Sing for younger brother so she offer to go find number one and two sons of Mistah Ben and bring them here.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Ben demanded with justified anger.

His friend’s reply came as a gentle smile.  “Hop Sing know Mistah Ben.  He know nothing stop worried father from following Hui and entering pirate camp.  It was this one’s hope that Mei Ling would find sons and return before worried father do something….”

Stupid.

Ben harrumphed.

Of course, Hop Sing was right.

The rancher’s dark eyes appraised each Indian warrior before moving to the one they targeted.  The woman known as Captain Thorn stood as the pivot point of whatever was to come.  She commanded the center of the clearing; head high and sword in hand.

“And the Indians?” Ben asked, astonished. “How did you arrange that?’

“Indians not Hop Sing’s doing.”

“That was us,” a familiar voice remarked.  Ben turned to find his eldest son at his side.  “How are you, Pa?”

“I’m fine, son,” he replied.

Hoss came on the heels of his brother.  “It was us what done brought the Indians, Pa.”  The big man glanced over his shoulder at the line of fierce warriors.  “Or maybe it’d be more right to say they brung us.”

Ben clapped each of his boys on the shoulder and then moved them aside.  “I need to get to your brother.   I can’t tell if Joe’s been hurt.”

“Ben Cartwright must wait.  He must stay where he is until justice is served.”  Chief Winnemucca said; his deep voice a strong rumble of thunder.  The Indian chief – like his men – had appeared as if out of nowhere.  “White man must not interfere in Indian justice.”

The rancher looked to his sons for explanation.

Adam replied.  “The chief didn’t tell us, but his men had a run-in with the pirates a few days back.  Several warriors were killed.”

“Eye for an eye,” Winnemucca said; his tone heavy with meaning.  “Just like white man’s Good Book say.”

Ben’s gaze returned to Captain Thorn even as it sought who and what lay at her feet.  As far as he was concerned now was not the time to argue the finer points of mercy.  His son could be hurt.  Since being thrust to the ground, Little Joe had not moved.

For that matter neither had Hugh.

“After bitterness comes sweetness,” Mei Ling said.  The young woman had come up so quietly behind them he hadn’t known she was there.

The rancher drew a breath and held it.

He certainly hoped so.

**********

Jing-rou did not flinch.  Neither did she move as she faced down the circle of Paiute warriors seeking retribution.  Chen-mo had ordered the raid on the Indian camp and executed it without her knowledge or permission.   He was dead now as he should be.

It was she who was left to face their wrath alone.

Such was the way of yin and yang.

The pirate captain looked down. At her feet, young Hui Fu lay motionless; his body offered as a sacrifice to save his white friend.  Hui had come closer to piercing her stone heart than any other man.  This one she had truly loved, though not as the child she had once been had loved – not with the innocence of Lian Qi.  She had loved him with the hunger and desperation of Jing-rou, the pirate queen of the seven seas.

Jing-rou lifted her gaze, fixing it again on the ones who had come to revenge their own.  It was her hope that, unlike Captain Thorn, Lian Qi was not Jiangshi and the child she had been would find rest as the arrows struck her.

Her fingers gripped the hilt of her sword.  Her muscles tensed in preparation and….

She smiled.

Today was as good a day as any other to die.

**********

A thin trail of blood ran from Joe Cartwright’s left temple, traveling through his thick brown curls and down his pallid cheek to puddle on the ground beneath them.  Hui Fu did not move to stop it as he had no wish to disturb the space where they lay, for it was sacred.  They were here – the ones who had gone before.  He sensed the arms of the ancestors around them, cradling him and Little Joe; keeping them safe.  The result of their embrace was tears of gratitude and joy.  Hui knew they had come in answer to the prayers of a despairing elder brother; ones uttered in the vain hope that the prodigal would awaken to his sins.

He had awakened.

Jing-rou towered above him, dark and dangerous; a fell queen proud but powerless as a lotus blossom in the wind.

Where did the road to ruin begin, Hui wondered as he lay there, and why did so many desire to choose it?  Did they not understand that it was the way of the Jiangshi, whose hunger for life led to death?

Did they not understand that life hungered for them?

Hui’s lips moved in prayer, speaking to the ancestors; informing them he meant no disrespect even as he lifted his head to look.  Jing-rou sensed the movement and looked down.  Their eyes met.

He did not know her.

Jing-rou had fallen asleep and Lian Qi awakened.

It was Lian Qi whose lips parted to bid him farewell.

It was Lian Qi who raised her sword and charged the enemy.

It was Lian Qi who fell as a dozen arrows entered her slender form.

And it was Lian Qi who, in the end, found peace.

 

---

 

Chapter Fourteen

 

It took a knock at the door to rouse Ben Cartwright from his chair before the fire. He’d fallen asleep there the night before and no one had roused him.  He stretched and then wearily crossed the room to answer it, since he knew Hop Sing was not there to do so.  To his surprise he found Pete Thompson standing on the porch.

They had not spoken since Jing-rou’s death.

“Pete,” the rancher said in greeting – and said nothing more.

The cowboy looked decidedly uncomfortable.  Pete’s callused fingers ringed his slightly derelict wide-brimmed hat as he cleared his throat.   “Mornin’, Mr. Cartwright.  I came to ask after Little Joe.”

“Joe will be all right,” he replied somewhat curtly and thought, ‘Little thanks to you or your brother!’

“That’s good to hear.  Really, it is.”  Pete’s fingers continued their work.  “What about that young China man?”

“Hugh?  He’s a little worse for wear but mending.”  Ben paused.  “Pete, what is it really brings you here?”

“It’s the truth that I came to ask after the pair of them, but….” The swarthy cowboy indicated the great room with a nod.  “Can I come in?  I got….  Well, I got a few things I ‘d like to say before I leave.”

Pete had given notice the day after they returned home even though he’d had nothing to do with the kidnapping.  It was an irony that – after all the speculation and rumor – ‘Snakebite Pete’ was, in reality, nothing more than a surly fellow seeking to better himself in any way he could.

The West was full of a lot of those.

“Certainly,” Ben said as he stepped back and cleared the way.  “The fire’s low but alive.  We can talk in front of it.”

It was still cold for this time of year, though the rancher had to admit that the chill he felt as he returned to his chair could very well have more to do with the events of the past week than the weather.

“Thanks,” Pete grunted as he walked past.

The cowboy was, of course, familiar with the ranch house.  He’d attended the last two Christmas parties.  Ben took a seat and nodded toward the one Adam usually occupied.

“I’ll stand if you don’t mind, Mister Cartwright,” Pete said.

“Your choice,” he replied.

The cowboy’s fingers began their dance again.  If it continued, that old hat would soon be nothing more than a nubbin!

“I…er…well….  I wanted to apologize.”

“For what?”  Ben inquired.  “From what Roy told me, you did nothing wrong.”

The lawman had filled him in on the long ride back to the Ponderosa.  Pete knew nothing of his younger brother’s schemes.  It seemed that John had always been jealous of his older brother.  While Pete’s reason for wanting the parcel of land he had for sale might not have been one hundred percent pure, it was honest.  He had a girl and he wanted to impress her.  John’s motives, on the other hand, had proved to be nefarious.  He coveted the woman his older brother loved and meant to have her.  Still, at least one part of the younger Thompson’s story had been true.  John had learned the whereabouts of the pirate camp from the hostess at the Soap and gone to meet them.  What he failed to tell his older brother was that he also made a deal with them.  It was John who’d told Thorn’s crew where Hugh was staying and John who suggested Little Joe might be worth a prince’s weight in gold.

The older man sighed.

Might?  That was another thing John got right!

Pete frowned as if confused.  “I need to apologize for John.”

“Why?  You’re not John.”

“No, but….”  His frown turned into a scowl.  “It was me what raised him after our parents died.  That makes me responsible for what he’s become.”

“No.  Not really.  Each man is responsible for his own choices.  You are not your brother’s keeper, Pete.  Not now.  Not since he’s grown.”

“I don’t know where I went wrong!  I mean, I brought him up right.”  He sighed.  “I….  I thought I knew him.”

John was sitting in the settlement’s jail awaiting the arrival of the circuit judge.  Shortly after Jing-rou’s death, Roy and the rest of the search party had arrived.  It seemed Winnemucca’s men were watching them too and had freed them.  Pete was there when John was arrested and charged as an accessory to attempted murder, aiding and abetting a kidnapping, and endangerment and breach of trust.

The one who had trusted the young man being him.

Ben leaned forward and knit his hands together.  “How much did you talk about wanting that land, Pete, and how much it meant to the woman you want to marry?”

The swarthy cowboy paled.  “Too much, I imagine.”

“Perhaps John meant to impress you at first and his anger and resentment overcame him in the end?’

Pete winced on the word ‘resentment’.

The cowboy considered his words before speaking again.  “Is it wrong for a man to want to make a home for the woman he loves?’

“Answer me this: Is it right for a woman to make a man think that possessing land is the way he must earn her love?”

Ben could see that hurt.

“In the end, Pete, coveting anything – money, land…a woman – can only lead to trouble.”  The rancher paused.  “What I mean to say is this – would this woman still love you if you were penniless?  I think you have to ask yourself that.”

“That’s why I’m leaving.  She lives in Stockton.  I’m gonna go see her and find out.”

Ben rose and crossed to the other man’s side.  He placed a hand on his shoulder. “Good for you.  And for your sake, Pete, I hope she does.”

The cowboy nodded before beginning a slow walk to the door.  He turned back with his hand on the latch.  “There’s one last thing I’d like to say.  John’s not all bad.  I hope…  Well, when time comes for the trial, I’d like to ask you to remember that.”

Ben nodded.  “I will.  I promise.”

The cowboy placed his worn hat on his head.  “Thank you, sir.  I appreciate that.”

The rancher remained by the door for a long time considering all that had happened.  He was not entirely without blame.  He could have sat down with Pete and listened to him rather than prejudging him.  He was well aware of the moniker the other hands had given the cowboy – Snakebite Pete – and took it to heart as erroneously as all the rest.  For no reason, he assumed Pete was up to no good and had a dishonest motive for wanting that parcel of land.  Ben breathed out a sigh.  In reality, Pete had wanted nothing more than he himself had wanted when he came to the Utah territory – a life, a home, and a wife who loved him.

He prayed to God the man got what he wanted in the end.

“Do you see something written on that door that I don’t see?” a wry voice asked.

He chuckled.  “Door?  I think perhaps it’s a mirror.”

“And you don’t like what you see?”

Ben turned toward his eldest son.  Adam had come out of the kitchen with a tray of cold cuts and bread in hand.

“Is that all for you?” he asked him with surprise.

The black-haired man lifted a piece of ham and a slice of bread from the platter before placing it on the table.  “Just this,” he said with a smile. “The rest is for Hoss when he comes in from the barn.  We agreed to an early game of checkers.”

The mention of checkers reminded the weary father of his youngest child – whom he had not seen for a while.

“Not Joe?’

Adam shrugged.  “No.  Joe wasn’t interested.”

Joseph was still confined to his room on doctor’s orders, though the occasional excursion to the great room had been allowed.  The boy’s physical injuries were light and of a passing nature. Sadly, the ones left behind by his ordeal were deep and more permanent.

“And Hugh?”

“Last time I seen him he was headed upstairs.  That was ‘bout ten minutes ago,” Hoss said as the door opened to admit him.  The big man hung his hat on the rack.  “Say, Pa. what was Snakebite doin’ here?”

“Pete came to say goodbye,” the rancher replied with an emphasis on the man’s name.  “He’s going to Stockton to see his girl.  Hopefully they can work things out.”

“Oh.”  Hoss looked appropriately cowed.  “Sorry ‘bout that, Pa.  Did Pete say how John’s doin’?”

“Five to ten in the pen, let’s hope,” Adam growled as he took a seat and began to munch on his sandwich.

“You gonna press all them charges Roy’s got listed against him?” the big man asked as he eyed the food tray with delight.  “Are all of these for me?’

“Unless Pa wants one,” Adam replied.

Ben waved his hand.  “Eat all you like, son.  I’ve not much of an appetite.”

Hoss sat down, rubbed his hands together, and dug in.

“So, Pa. what about it?” his eldest asked.  “Are you going to throw the legal book at John?”

The rancher took a seat.  “That will depend on what John says on his own behalf.”  Ben looked up the stairs; his thoughts flying to a certain bedroom and the young man seated within.  “And on your brother.”

**********

He’d been standing, looking out his window onto the dawning day when a soft sound made Joe Cartwright turn.  There was no lamp lit, so at first he couldn’t see him.  Then Hugh appeared from out of the shadows wearing the clothes he’d arrived in.

“You’re leaving, aren’t you?” Joe asked.

“Soon.”

“Does Hop Sing know?”

A muscle twitched in the young man’s face.  “He goes with this one.”

“Oh?  Does Pa know?”

“Mister Cartwright sees clearly as if observing fire.”

The teenager stifled a sigh.  Just once he wished he could get a straight answer instead of sage wisdom!

“So he knows?’

“If not, he soon will.”

Joe moved from the window to sit on the edge of his bed.  He wasn’t hurt but he couldn’t shake a deep sense of fatigue – along with a bit of melancholy.  The last week had taken something out of him.

Just what, he wasn’t entirely sure.

“Is Little Joe all right?” Hugh asked, concerned.

“I’m fine.  Are you?”  When the Asian man failed to answer, the teenager’s temper flared.  “Come on, you owe me an answer!  And will you please sit down!?”

Hugh looked uncomfortable. “It was not this one’s intention to stay.”

“This one would like you to,” he replied as tears welled in his eyes. “At least for a few minutes.”

The look the Asian man gave him was eerily similar to Hop Sing’s just before he shouted ‘Foolishment!’  Hugh let out a small sigh before crossing to the desk and returning with its chair.

“This one’s choices nearly cost Joe Cartwright his life,” he said as he sat down.

Joe shrugged.  “We all gotta make some bad ones.”

That brought a smile, though it was fleeting.

“This one has made many bad choices.  He must atone.”

“So you’re going home?  To see your family?”

Hugh nodded.

“But Hop Sing’s your family too!  Why can’t you stay here?”

Joe heard the quaver in his voice.  It didn’t shame him.  In the time he’d known Hugh, he’d come to love him as a brother.  It was a different kind of love from what he had for Adam and Hoss, but it was just as powerful.

As if unable – or unwilling – to face him, Hugh rose and walked to the window where he stood gazing out.  Just when the silence became nearly unbearable, he spoke.

“Hé Xīng has asked this one to remain here as well.”

‘Hé Xīng’ was Mandarin for Hop Sing.

“So why not stay?’

The light was rising.  It struck Hugh’s face as he turned to look at him.   The Asian man had aged since they first met.  Well, maybe ‘matured’ was a better word.

Hugh seemed to be at peace at last.

“Much anger this one had when his older brother sailed away.  When wise father saw his tears, he said, ‘Endure for a moment, young one, and the storm will calm.  Take a step back and the sea will be broad and the sky will be clear.”  Hugh returned to his chair and sat down. “Wise father also say, ‘In a fit of anger you lose everything.’  Wise father right.”

“But you haven’t lost everything!” Joe protested.  “You’re here.  You survived and there’s a chance to start again.”

“When drinking water, think of its source,” his friend replied.

Joe puzzled on that one for a moment.

“So…you have to make things right with your family first?  Is that it?”  Hop Sing had a saying for it.  “You need to break out of the cocoon?”

Hugh smiled.  “Yes.”

“Will you come back?”

It was the plea of a kid and he knew it, but Joe didn’t care.  After all, Hugh was barely more than a kid.

The Asian man nodded.  “One day.”

“Is that a promise?”

“I give my word.”

“And one word is worth nine tripods, right?”  Hop Sing had taught him that one too.  It meant a single promise held great weight and should be honored.

Hugh rose and held out his hand.  Joe took it and then was startled when Hugh unexpectedly pulled him into an embrace.

“Didi,” he breathed.

Brother.

And was gone.

**********

The sun rose behind the soaring mountains, stretching its golden fingers toward Mistah Ben’s home.  Hop Sing smiled as its warming rays struck the freshly-tilled earth in his garden.  The seedlings he had just planted lay beneath its brown blanket, happy at last that spring had come.

All that was dead would soon waken to new life.

“This one has a question,” a familiar voice said.

Hop Sing placed the hoe he held against the garden wall and turned to face his brother.  “It is most likely this one does not have an answer.  Still, you may ask.”

The rising sun struck Hui Fu’s young face, softening the lines of worry and the traces of hard-won wisdom etched into it. Here before him stood the child who had refused to bid him farewell.  Hui fu had no tears then.

He shed them now.

“A path was set before Hui fu’s brother.  He did not take it.  Because of this, this one lives.”  His young brother held his gaze.  “This one…I need to know.  Does he regret this?’

It was still possible that by saving his brother’s life, he had lost everything – family, home; heritage.  Hui fu was asking if he thought the sacrifice worth it.

Hop Sing smiled.  “This one regrets nothing.  If this one had chosen to exact blood revenge, neither he or Hui Fu would walk any path.”

Hui’s full lips quirked in reply.  “Older brother would have chosen to become one of the Jiangshi as well?”

He shook his head.  “You are Jiangshi no longer.”

It had not been long since the death of Jing-rou and the return of her and Chen-mo’s bodies to a representative of her crew.  His brother still felt the effects of his captivity and of the beatings he had suffered.  Hui fu moved stiffly to the wooden bench that faced the garden and sat down.

“This one is indeed no longer dead,” he remarked as his hands dangled between his knees.  “He feels all too keenly the pain of living.”

Hop Sing hesitated briefly and then moved to sit beside him.  A silence overcame them that lasted until the distant sun rose above the mountain’s peaks.

“Do you know, gēge, what this one saw as the ship carried you away to America?’ Hui asked, breaking it.

“You did not see,” the older man replied with a touch of bitterness.

“You are right.  This one could see nothing but his own pain.”  Hui winced as he straightened up.  “Would most honorable older brother tell this one what he saw?”

The vision was clear.  “This one saw a small boy whose back was turned.”

The younger man nodded before rising and waking to the edge of the garden where he stood; his slender form cast in silhouette.

A second silence fell.

Hop Sing’s gaze moved from his brother to a delicate ornament that graced the furrowed plot.  Even now, it seemed out of place. Many long years before Missy Marie had visited him here.  She watched his work for some time before asking him why he gardened.  This had seemed a most foolish question.  ‘To feed Missy Marie and her family,’ he replied.  Mistah Ben’s most beautiful wife had looked at him as if the dragon had two heads.  After she left, he thought no more of it.  He was busy busy and had no time for such foolishment.

The next time he returned to the garden, he was startled to find a stone bird bath had been placed in the middle of it.  It was in the shape of a tree; its base forming the trunk and a shallow bowl its branches.  A pair of stone birds perched on the edge of the bowl.  One drank from its waters, while the other lifted its head and flapped its carven wings in joy.

That day he had learned that a garden was for far more than feeding empty bellies.

“You are right, gēge, I did not look,” his brother said as he reached out to touch the surface of the water.  “This one could not for the pain in his heart was too great.  I did not understand.  I could not see your sacrifice, only my loss.  This one sat beside the river and stared into its waters as he looks into this one’s now.  There he saw the reflection of his life without his brother and it was empty.  This one most foolishly chose anger to fill the chasm of despair.”  Hui turned to look at him.  “’Anger is a knife that hurts one’s self’, this is what our wise father said.  Would that this one had listened.”  His brother returned to stand before the bench.  “If Hé Xing had carried out blood revenge, it would have been right.”  His fingers clenched.  “This one has seen…done terrible things.”

“Does Hui Fu regret the things he did?’

His brother’s head fell.  His tears watered the earth.

Hop Sing rose and placed his hand on the broken man’s shoulder.  “Hé Xīng has forgiven you as will our father Hé Líng and all of our family.”

Hui fu shook his head.  “No.  What I have done….”

Hop Sing took his brother’s chin in his fingers and lifted his head.  He waited to speak until the boy met his gaze.

“Is forgiveness not the fragrance the violet sheds on the heel of the one who has crushed it?”

**********

The brothers remained in the garden talking as the sun set and beyond.

In the morning they were looked for, but could not be found.

Eventually, something drew Ben Cartwright to the plot of earth behind the house Hop Sing loved the most.  The light was nearly gone on this new day.  A single bright beam escaped the low-slung clouds on the horizon to strike the birdbath Marie had insisted he buy for the Asian man. Ben chuckled.  When he dared to ask why – as the price had been high for such a useless ornament – she’d replied simply that he needed it.

He found a note propped at its base.  Upon the note his friend had written the familiar words of Lao Tzu.

‘A journey of a thousand miles begins with one step.’

The End