Summary: Hop Sing struggles to find his place at The Ponderosa.
Rating:  G  11,125 words

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His Rightful Place

 

Hop Sing shooed the chickens away impatiently as he reached into another of the nesting boxes and drew out a large brown egg.  He looked at it with satisfaction before moving to another box and repeating the action. “Plenty egg for breakfast tomorrow,” he said out aloud, startling the chickens and making them flutter away from him quickly. “What matter?’” he asked crossly. “You no like Hop Sing voice? Here … see if like this!”  He flapped his arms around wildly, laughing aloud as he watched the chickens fluff their feathers in indignation.

 

Hop Sing had never really liked the chickens and had unconsciously taught Little Joe to feel the same way about them when he’d been younger and it had been his job to fetch the eggs. Finally the boy had protested so strongly about having to go into the hen house each day that Hop Sing had taken the chore back unto himself rather than have to listen to the daily litany of Joe’s protests, but it was still a job that he hated.  There was something about those beady eyes and the way the chickens looked at him with an unblinking stare.  It was as if they knew something that he didn’t.

 

Many a time they had pecked him when he hadn’t been concentrating on where each bird was and even though he wasn’t scared of them, he had learned to be wary. It gave Hop Sing great satisfaction to have an excuse to serve roast chicken and he made mental notes each time he came into the henhouse as to which particular bird was annoying him the most and who would find their head next on the chopping block.

 

“You careful,” he warned one particular chicken who had eyed him off today with a beady stare. “Cartwright family plenty like roast chicken, so …” he drew his finger across his own neck in a dramatic gesture. “… chop chop for you plenty soon.”  He gave the chicken a hard look and shut the wire door firmly behind him.

 

He turned as Joe rode into the front yard.  He knew before even looking to see who it was that it was the youngest Cartwright, from the sound of his horse coming around the side of the barn. Nothing that Joe did was ever slow and no one else would have dared to ride their horse in that way. He fixed the young man with a hard stare. “Why you ride like that?’ he yelled. “Your Papa very angry if he be here!”  He waggled his finger at Joe as he slid down from the saddle.

 

“Yeah, but Pa ain’t here,” replied Joe with a grin. “He won’t know.”  He spoke with the supreme confidence of someone who knew that Hop Sing would never tell on him.  There was an unspoken agreement between the cook and the three Cartwright boys that whenever they got out of line in any way it stayed between themselves.  Hop Sing would never lie to their father, but never volunteered information unless asked for it either.  As Ben often didn’t know to ask, that meant that his sons knew they were usually safe with Hop Sing’s confidence.

 

That didn’t, however, stop the cook from berating them himself if he thought they deserved it.  To an outsider observing his relationship with the family one would think that he was angry with them a great deal of the time, but all of them knew that his constant muttering in Chinese, the waving of his arms and his finger pointing were just his way of expressing himself. All three of the boys had been on the receiving end of one of his swats in their younger years and knew that he meant business when it got to that stage, but the three of them also knew of the love the man had for them all.

 

As Joe stood grinning at Hop Sing now, he knew without a doubt that the man’s frown and the way in which he was pointing his finger at him were just the same as if he were greeting him hello.  Joe couldn’t remember a time when Hop Sing hadn’t been a part of their family and he accepted his comment and gestures without a care in the world.  He’d been hearing such things since he could walk … and probably before.

 

“You be careful or I give you chore of getting eggs again,” said Hop Sing in a huffy voice.

 

Joe’s grin merely got bigger at the man’s words. “Now you know I wouldn’t deprive you of your favourite chore,” he teased. “Those chickens would miss you too much if you didn’t visit them every day.”

 

“Hmph!” Hop Sing gave the youngster a dark look and began to walk towards the kitchen again. He stopped at the door and inspected a small broad-leafed plant that was in a pot sitting on the windowsill with concern written all over his face. It was small and looked rather sickly to the casual observer, and Hop Sing fingered the wilting leaves tenderly. He shook his head and went inside the kitchen, putting the eggs on the bench next to the stove.

 

“Any chance of something to eat?” said a voice behind him. He pretended to ignore it at first as he began to pound the pastry that he’d left on the bench, but after a moment he pushed a barrel of cookies across to Joe who was standing looking at him from the doorway. “Thanks,” said the young man and sat down and began to munch on one. “What are we having for supper?”

 

Hop Sing pounded the pastry deftly, ignoring the young man’s comments. Joe took no notice of him and began to swing his legs, whistling as he watched the pastry being rolled out.

 

“You got no work to do?” asked Hop Sing gruffly.

 

Joe grinned at him and snatched another cookie. “Oh I’ve got plenty to do,” he admitted. “I’m just not doing it yet.”

 

“Father be angry when he get home if chores not done,” warned Hop Sing.

 

Joe took another cookie and stood up to leave. “Ok ok,” he laughed. “I get the hint.”

 

“We have roast beef,” muttered Hop Sing under his breath as the young man left the room.  Joe shot him a grin and left, still munching.

 

Hop Sing shook his head and muttered to himself in Chinese, thankful that it had been Little Joe and not his older brother Hoss who had been asking for food.  If Hoss had been here the cookie barrel would have been emptied by now and Hop Sing would have had more baking to do the next day.  He grunted as he pounded the pastry for the last time and then lifted it deftly and placed it in the pie tin he had waiting next to it.  As he cut around the edges he sang softly to himself, a haunting tune in Chinese that he’d learnt as a small child in China from his nurse.

 

Hop Sing’s mind drifted back in time and he smiled softly as he sang the words that the young boy had learned all those years ago. So lost was he in thought, that he failed to hear the kitchen door opening and closing behind him and nearly dropped the tin in his hand when he heard a voice speak. “That’s nice.  What is it?” He turned sharply to see Ben Cartwright giving him a quizzical look. He grunted and muttered something in Chinese, not loudly enough for Ben to catch it. “Have you seen Joseph?” asked Ben casually as he helped himself to a cookie from the still-open jar. “His horse is outside and there’s no sign of him.”

 

Hop Sing merely shrugged his shoulders. “No keep track of boys,” he said firmly. “Too much foolishment!”

 

Ben smiled as he turned to go. “Well if you do see him, tell him that I expect his horse stabled please,” he said. “Oh … and what are we having for supper?”

 

Hop Sing grunted. “Roast beef,” he said. “And you tell number three son no roast beef for him if no wash hands!”

 

“I will,” grinned Ben and made a hasty retreat. The kitchen was Hop Sing’s domain and they all knew it.  Even though they were all welcome there, it was on his terms and they all knew when it was diplomatic to leave. Ben sensed that this was one of those times.

 

 

##########

 

 

Hop Sing held on tightly to the side of the buckboard as they travelled down a slight slope.  Knowing how the man was feeling by the look of the whites on his knuckles, Adam smiled to himself and pulled the horses back to a crawl to alleviate Hop Sing’s anxiety. It was always like this.  The man could never get used to the sheer size of the vehicle and much preferred to travel in the buggy, but at times like this when they needed supplies, he had no choice but to travel in the buckboard.

 

Adam knew that any of them could have picked up the supplies for Hop Sing, but the man insisted on travelling in with him today. Adam suspected that it wasn’t so much the supplies that he wanted to keep check on, but rather the chance to visit one of his many relatives in town that had made the cook insist on coming. Not that Adam could blame him. He wondered at times just how lonely it must be for Hop Sing out at the ranch by himself for so many hours each day. He never complained about it, but Adam sensed that there were times when he longed for contact with his own people. He had only to him as he chattered on with other Chinese men in town to know that it must be so. Hop Sing was never so illuminated than when he had the opportunity to meet with others of his own race.

 

Hop Sing’s grip on the side of the buckboard relaxed as they came to an even stretch of the trail again. ‘You drive good Mr Adam,’ he said and smiled as Adam grinned at him. He never minded coming into town with either Mr Cartwright or Hoss as they were both steady drivers, but Adam seemed to intuitively know when Hop Sing became anxious and adjusted their speed accordingly. Not so Little Joe, whom Hop Sing would avoid riding with at any cost.  That particular young man’s only goal seemed to be to get to town as quickly as possible and many’s the time Hop Sing found himself swatting him on the side of the head to slow him down.

 

“You need much today?” asked Adam as they drew closer to Virginia City. “I can drop you at the mercantile and then come back later if you like.”

 

Hop Sing nodded. “Need many things Mr Adam,” he said. “Long list.”  He drew a piece of paper from his sleeve and studied it.

 

Adam nodded. “I’ve got quite a bit to do myself,” he said. “If you don’t mind, we could meet back there later this afternoon?”  He gave the man a smile, knowing full well that Hop Sing had been hoping to hear that very thing.  The excuse of coming in for the supplies was secondary in his mind to the chance to catch up with his many Chinese acquaintances in town and Adam knew it well.

 

“I can find things to keep busy,” said Hop Sing shortly. “I meet you back at mercantile in afternoon.”

 

“Thanks Hop Sing,” said Adam. “I appreciate that.  I’ll see you here about three then.  Tell Sam I’ll load the supplies when I get here. Have a good day.”  He tipped his hat to the man as he got down from the buggy and drove off down the street, whistling as he went.

 

Hop Sing smiled before entering the store. Now he had practically the whole day to spare for visiting.  He wished that all the Cartwrights were so understanding of his needs as Mr Adam was, but then again he really couldn’t have expected them to be.  It wasn’t that they didn’t support him, but they just weren’t aware of his needs. There were times when he craved to be amongst his own people and no one except Mr Adam seemed to be aware of that fact. He didn’t know why Adam did … perhaps it was because he had spent so much time with him as a child when Hop Sing had first arrived at The Ponderosa? Perhaps it was because he was just a naturally perceptive person? Whatever the reason, Adam was the one who sensed whenever things built up inside the man and seemed to understand his need to associate with his own people.

 

He entered the store and waited patiently to one side while Sam Winters who owned the mercantile served several other customers.  It was always like this and he had come to accept it as normal.  If one of the Cartwrights had been with him then he would have been served sooner, but when he was by himself it was an unspoken thing that any storekeeper would serve the American customers first. It had always been so, and Hop Sing doubted that any of them were even conscious of it.  Chinese in Virginia City were used to such things.

 

Hop Sing was grateful that his association with the Cartwright family for at least that earned him a degree of consideration that many other Chinese in town didn’t have. There were not many people who would cross the Cartwrights and most people knew that to treat Hop Sing with little respect was to bring down the wrath of Ben Cartwright or one of his boys down upon their head.

 

‘Morning Hop Sing,” said Sam cheerfully when the other customers had gone. “After some supplies this morning?”

 

Hop Sing gave a slight bow. “Thank you Mr Winters”’ he said politely as he handed the man his list. “Many things needed.  Mr Adam said that he will load them this afternoon if you please.”

 

“Sure. I’ll get them ready,” said Sam. “You want to check out some of these new spices I got in?”

 

Hop Sing spent the next half hour happily selecting supplies and organising items while Sam continued to serve other customers.  Soon he was satisfied that he had chosen everything he needed to and left the store, headed for the Chinese Quarter of town.  It was an area that he knew well.  When he’d first arrived in Virginia City he had clung to it and the people that he felt comfortable with and even now many years later he seldom ventured outside of it when he was in town.  Apart from the stores, Hop Sing actually knew very little of the town outside of the Chinese Quarter. He envied many of his friends here their families and often felt a pang of loneliness when he observed them, but he knew deep within him that such a life was not for him.

 

Hop Sing would have welcomed a wife and family if it had ever happened, but something inside him knew that although the calendar told him that he had now been in America for many years he was still an alien in this adopted country of his and as such had never put down his roots completely.  It was as if he had transplanted himself from one country to another and he knew that he would always feel not quite native to this country.

 

Still, he thought as he made his way to the home of one of his particular friends, others from his country seemed to have done it, so why did he continue to feel this way? Hop Sing didn’t know that answer to that, he just knew that it was so.

 

Later that afternoon as he made his way back towards the store again to meet Adam, he reflected on his life with the Cartwrights.  He had met Mr Cartwright many years ago when Little Joe was just a tiny baby and he had stayed with them ever since.  He’d watched the boys grow into young men and felt such a pride in them for the people they’d become.  He liked to imagine at times that he was part of their family and that he could assume a certain amount of responsibility for raising them, but he knew that even though the Cartwrights were as close as he could possibly get to an American family accepting him, that it still wasn’t the same. He would always be on the edge … always a transplant on The Ponderosa.

 

So engrossed was he in his thoughts, that he failed to see the large black boot before he actually tripped over it. He was hitting the sidewalk as the thought registered in his brain that something was wrong. He lifted his head and stared at the blood pooling on the wooden sidewalk as voices swirled around him.

 

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Hop Sing felt kindly arms raising him up even as someone answered with a snarl. He put his hand to his grazed face as he stared into the hostile eyes of a large red-faced man whose answer to the question was to spit at Hop Sing’s feet.

 

“What’s your problem?” snarled the man, staring at Hop Sing as he spoke even though he was answering Sam’s question. “He’s just a Chinaboy.”

 

“Don’t you know who this is?” asked Sam irritably. “This here is Hop Sing.  He works for Ben Cartwright you fool.”

 

The red-faced man hesitated for a moment and then shrugged his shoulders. “So?” he said.

 

“So? So Ben Cartwright will have your hide if you hurt him.”

 

“Or one of his sons will,” said a firm voice behind them and Hop Sing and Sam both turned to see Adam standing there, his hands on his hips and his eyes blazing with an anger that reminded Hop Sing of his father.

 

The red-faced man raised his hands defensively. “Sorry mister,” he said. “No offence intended.”

 

Adam continued to stare at him. “I’m not the one you need to apologize to,” he said.

 

The red-faced man’s eyes bulged. “You’re not serious?” he snarled. “I ain’t apologising to no Chinaboy!”

 

Adam raised his eyebrows and continued to stare at the man. Finally the other man lowered his gaze and turned on his heel as if to leave and Adam quickly grabbed him by the collar and flung him into the gutter. “Sorry,” he said sarcastically. “No offence intended.”  He took Hop Sing by the arm and he and Sam walked into the store with him.

 

“I’ve got something we can put on that graze,” said Sam. “I’ll get it.”

 

Adam sat Hop Sing down on an upturned barrel and looked at him closely. “You OK Hop Sing?” he asked anxiously.

 

Hop Sing nodded and submitted himself to the men’s ministrations silently. How could he tell them how he was feeling?  How could he tell them what it was like to feel so powerless in the face of such hostility?  How could he tell them that he had seen this sort of thing happen time and time again to so many of his friends?  How could he make them understand that this was a part of being Chinese? There was no way that he could possibly begin to make them understand, so he simply hung his head and said nothing.

 

 

##########

 

 

Ben walked into the kitchen and put his hand on Hop Sing’s shoulder, looking at him anxiously. “Adam told me what happened this afternoon,” he said. “Are you all right?”

 

Hop Sing nodded. “Yes,” he said shortly.

 

“The man is a drifter in town,” said Ben. “Adam said that Roy Coffee told him to move on.  Hopefully by now he already has”’ Hop Sing nodded again, but said nothing. “Are you sure you’re all right?” asked Ben.

 

Hop Sing forced a smile onto his face. “Hop Sing all right,” he said. “Face not hurt much.”  How could he tell the man that it wasn’t his face that was hurting? There was no salve that he knew of that could possibly heal his heart.

 

“Good,” said Ben. He stood for moment staring at the cook as Hop Sing turned back towards the stove again. There was something about the way in which the man was holding himself …. Something about his eyes …. Ben couldn’t put his finger on it, but Hop Sing seemed somehow … sad. “You know that he isn’t typical of folks around here,” he continued. “People in town respect you Hop Sing.”

 

Hop Sing said the words that he knew Ben needed to hear, although they sounded so hollow to himself. ‘Hop Sing know,” he said. “Is all right now Mr Cartwright.”

 

Ben smiled and patted Hop Sing on the shoulder. “I’m glad,” he said sincerely.

 

Hop Sing sighed as the other man left the room and glanced over at the plant which he’d placed on the windowsill.  It still looked sickly and its broad leaves drooped alarmingly. He tipped a few drops of water onto it and picked up a pale-red bloom that had dropped onto the sill. He remembered back to when he’d been a small boy in China and he’d gathered such flowers to take home.  His aunt had loved this particular allium flower and any that he gathered from the slopes where it grew wildly near their house had been put into pots and displayed on the windowsill such as this one. That was the reason he’d asked his cousins to send him some of the small white bulbs all the way from China … it reminded him of his homeland and the happy memories he’d had of his childhood. Hop Sing stroked the allium plant again and sighed.  It seemed as if the flower wasn’t going to survive in this climate after all and the thought made him even sadder still.

 

 

##########

 

 

“Afternoon Hop Sing,” said Hoss as he burst through the kitchen door, one eye on the cook and the other on the bench beside him where the day’s baking was laid out.

 

Hop Sing raised his wooden spoon in a threatening manner. “What you want in kitchen?” he said. “Is not supper time for long time yet!” He waved the spoon around as if to press his point.

 

Hoss took a step backwards, his eyes fixated on the spoon and his hands behind his back. “I ain’t here ta ask bout supper,” he said defensively. “I just came ta deliver something for ya” He drew a letter out of his vest pocket and held it out to the other man. “I picked up the mail today and there was a letter come for ya.”

 

Hop Sing took the letter and turned it over a couple of times in his hand as he examined it closely.

 

“It’s come all the way from China,” volunteered Hoss as he edged towards the bench slowly. “Ain’t ya gonna open it?”

 

Hop Sing rapped Hoss on the shoulder with his spoon. “Leave food alone,” he said warningly.

 

“Aw, have a heart Hop Sing,” protested Hoss. “Just a bite?”

 

Hop Sing picked up two cookies and handed them to him. “Leave kitchen before get lump on head,” he ordered, putting his letter in the pocket of his tunic.

 

“Ain’t ya gonna read your letter”’ asked Hoss as he reached out behind his back and grabbed three more cookies. “It’s all the way from China ya know.”

 

Hop Sing ignored the fact that Hoss was taking more cookies and tapped his wooden spoon on the young man’s shoulder again. “I read when I ready,” he said firmly. “Leave kitchen now or get lump on head from spoon!”

 

Hoss bid a hasty retreat, munching his cookies as he did so.  Hop Sing hesitated for a moment and then laid down the spoon before sitting down on a stool and reaching into his pocket for the letter.  He looked it over a couple more times before opening it carefully and beginning to read.

 

 

##########

 

 

“Thanks Hop Sing”’ said Adam, looking up from his book as the cook refreshed the coffee in his cup. Hop Sing nodded and walked over to do the same to Ben’s cup before glancing at Hoss’ cup.

 

“None for me thanks Hop Sing”’ said Hoss. “Hey!  You put that back Joe!”

 

Joe reluctantly put the pawn back on the board. “I was just looking at it,” he said huffily. “Anyone would think I was gonna cheat or something.”

 

“I wonder why?” muttered Adam in a low voice before turning another page of his book.

 

“Hey Hop Sing,” said Hoss. “Anything important in that letter ya got this afternoon?”

 

“Hoss!” said Ben angrily. “Hop Sing’s mail is none of your business young man.”

 

Hoss immediately look aggrieved. “But … I was only asking,” he said. “It was all the way from China.”

 

“Yeah?” said Joe, his eyes lighting up. “Wow … was it from your family Hop Sing?”

 

“Did neither of you listen to what I just said”’ asked Ben in a stern voice before turning towards the cook. “I’m sorry Hop Sing …the boys don’t mean to pry.  They’re just interested.”

 

Hop Sing nodded. “I heat coffee again,” he said and left the room abruptly.

 

“That’s strange,” mused Adam thoughtfully. “He usually shares any news with us that he gets.”

 

“How many times do I have to remind you boys that Hop Sing has the right to his privacy?” asked Ben sternly. “He doesn’t have to share any of his news if he doesn’t want to”’

 

“I know that,” replied Adam. “I just think that it’s strange that he didn’t this time that’s all.”  He shrugged and looked back at his page.

 

“Yeah,” agreed Joe. “Hop Sing always tells us bout his family when they write. Remember that time when he told us about his uncle and the war?”

 

“Yeah,” said Hoss.

 

“Well this time he obviously doesn’t want to tell us,” said Ben firmly. “So don’t ask him again you two.”

 

Hop Sing listened to the conversation between the Cartwrights from his position in the hallway before heading towards the kitchen. How he wished that it were that simple this time! He placed the coffee pot on the stove and sat down next to it, taking out the letter from his pocket and looking at it again. He sighed. If only the Cartwrights knew the news that he’d received and how it could affect all their lives. If only they knew that the letter brought news of the death of the very uncle that Little Joe had just mentioned. If only …  His eyes drifted over to the wilting allium plant on the windowsill as his mind drifted back to the days when a young boy had gathered it on the hills outside his small town.

 

 

“Very nice,’ said the old man as he smiled and took the pale red blooms from Hop Sing. “Your aunt will be pleased.  She loves this flower.”

 

“Uncle?” said the child.

 

“Yes my boy?”

 

“Why are there so many people walking through our town?”

 

“They are leaving the cities on the coast my nephew.”

 

“Why?”

 

“The British are burning their homes.  They must find new ones.”

 

Hop Sing frowned.  Such words for a small boy such as himself were hard to understand and his uncle’s words rattled around in his brain for several minutes before he grasped onto the one thing which to his child’s mind was important. “Will we have to find a new home too?” he asked anxiously.

 

His uncle Hop Ling gathered the small child to him and sat him on his lap. “No my nephew,” he said soothingly. “We are safe here in the country.  There is nothing here on our farm that anyone wants. Go and give the flowers to your aunt now.”

 

 

But his uncle had been wrong.  By the time Hop Sing had become an adolescent danger had come again … but this time it wasn’t from the British, but from their own people. With the fierce anti-Manchu sentiment that had arisen throughout the countryside bandits had roamed the land, attacking all within their path as they maintained their guerrilla warfare against the imperialist forces. The Ling family had suffered as many others had and to the young Hop Sing his uncle as head of their family had been a tower of strength and guidance in those troubled times. He had looked up to him and obeyed him as a dutiful nephew should … until …

 

Hop Sing shook his head as the coffee in the pot bubbled over and he reached out to take it off the stove. If only … he thought sadly. There were many unknowns in life.  When he’d left his country he didn’t know if he’d vowed to return one day when the trouble had passed and life was simple again, but it never happened. One conflict after another had wracked hi beloved country and he’d watched and waited from afar in this new country which he’d found. Now his beloved uncle was lost to him forever and he’d never see again the venerable old man in this life.  Hop Sing lowered his head and wept bitter tears.

 

 

##########

 

 

“Where you been?” shouted Hop Sing angrily as Joe drove the buckboard into the front yard of the ranch house and pulled the horses to a halt. “I waiting for sugar!”

 

“I’m not late,” said Joe defensively as he hopped down. “I’ve been as quick as I can.”  He pulled the sack of sugar off the back of the buckboard. “I’ll take it in for ya Hop Sing.”

 

Hop Sing grabbed the sack from him. “I take myself,” he snapped. “No need help from you!”

 

Joe pulled a face as the man disappeared into the kitchen with his sugar. “What’s going on out here?” asked his father as he and Adam came out of the barn together. “Why is Hop Sing shouting at you Joseph?  What have you done now?”

 

Joe gave his father an aggrieved look. “Nuthin,” he said defensively. “Honest Pa. Hop Sing’s just in a bad mood all the time lately is all.”  He shrugged his shoulders. “I dunno what’s the matter with him, but he sure ain’t pleasant to be around.”

 

Ben indicated the barn with his thumb. “Get the team unhitched,” he instructed. “And just keep out of his way then.” Joe shook his head again as he walked the horses across the yard, muttering to himself.

 

“Joe’s right for once Pa,” said Adam. “I’ve noticed it too.  He didn’t even react last night when Hoss told him how great supper was and he’s been grumbling all morning.”

 

“I’ve noticed it myself actually,” said Ben thoughtfully.

 

“What do you think is wrong with him?” asked Adam.

 

“I’m not sure son.  I really don’t like to pry, but I’d like to see if we can help with whatever it is that’s eating away at him,” replied his father. “I think I might have a talk with him. Help Joseph with the buckboard will you please?” He walked over to the kitchen and entered it, noticing that Hop Sing didn’t look up from his cooking when he opened the door. “Busy?” he asked tentatively.

 

Hop Sing threw a cup of sugar into a bowl and began to stir its contents. “Hop Sing always busy!” he said angrily. “Plenty much to do all time!” He pointed his wooden spoon at Ben. “Maybe too busy … not appreciated by Cartwright family!”

 

“Oh Hop Sing, of course we appreciate you,” said Ben, knowing that the cook’s usual next statement would be that he was returning to Old China.  To his surprise, however, Hop Sing clamped his jaw shut and said nothing else. Ben looked at the man closely as he continued to throw ingredients into the bowl. ‘Is there something the matter?” he said after a moment.

 

Hop Sing waved the wooden spoon around. “I just say!” he said angrily. “Too much work!”

 

Ben reached over and put his hand on the man’s shoulder. “I mean it,” he said. “I’ve noticed that you’re not yourself lately Hop Sing. In fact we’ve all noticed it. Is there something I can do to help with whatever is troubling you?” Hop Sing stopped and stared into the mixing bowl in front of him silently. “I’d like to help if you’d let me,” persisted Ben. “I don’t want to pry but if you …”

 

Hop Sing looked up at the man. “I leave Ponderosa,” he said quietly.

 

Ben gave the other man a shocked look. He’d heard Hop Sing say those words so many times, but this time it was obvious to him that he really meant it. “What?” he said. “Why?”

 

Hop Sing continued to look at him steadily. “I must return China,” he said seriously. “I get letter.”  Ben waited, not wanting to interrupt something that was obviously so important to the man. “My uncle,” continued Hop Sing. “My uncle Hop Ling is dead.”  He went back to mixing the ingredients in the bowl, his shoulders hunched.

 

Ben swallowed. “I’m so sorry Hop Sing,” he said. “Were you close?”

 

“Yes. He raise me when my father die.”

 

“Well then I’m even sorrier,” Ben continued. “I know what it’s like to lose someone …” his voice faltered. “ …someone you really love,” he finished.

 

Hop Sing nodded in sympathy, remembering back to when Little Joe’s mother had died and how affected his employer had been by her death at the time.  The man had been through that three times and it was a great testimony to his character that he had come through it all and still managed to raise three wonderful sons. There was something about Ben Cartwright that reminded Hop Sing of his uncle …. a certain strength of character …. and suddenly the years melted away and he felt that he was once more talking to the man as he had so many times when he’d been a boy and sought him out for advice. “I have … not know word … I have …”  Ben waited while the man tried to bring his thoughts out verbally. “I need go and help family,” Hop Sing finished, cursing himself for his lack of language to express himself clearly.

 

“You feel that you have an obligation to your family?” asked Ben.

 

Hop Sing nodded. “That the word,” he said firmly. “Ob … obligation.”

 

“But …” Ben hesitated, not wanting to say the wrong thing. “But … I can understand you wanting to be with your family at a time like this … but … have you considered what you’d be going back to?  You know the problems that are happening in China now.”

 

Hop Sing nodded.  News had filtered through to them via San Francisco of how the British had teamed up with the French this time in a struggle for the opium rights in his country. “I know,” he said. “I still go.”

 

“But … you left China because of the fighting there at the time,’ continued Ben. “It’s worse now that foreign powers are involved again. There’s no telling what state your family’s farm will be in now if you return.”

 

Hop Sing hung his head. “Family farm no more,” he said simply. Taken over by state. Family work it for state now. My cousin tell in letter.” He patted his pocket.

 

“I see.”  Ben was silent for a moment as he digested this news. “Well then,” he said. “If you’re bound to go, I suppose I’ll have to try and understand.  How long will you be gone for?”

 

Hop Sing looked away from him. “I not come back,” he said. “I go forever.”

 

Ben swallowed. “You can’t be serious!” he said. “I can understand you wanting to visit your family perhaps …but … never to come back? Why?”

 

Hop Sing drew a deep breath. “I needed by family,” he said. “I have … obligation.  Uncle dead … I head of family now.”

 

Ben nodded. “I see,” he said. “You have to return to take your place as head of your family, is that it?”

 

Hop Sing stared at the wall. “Yes,” he said dully.

 

There was a long silence between the two men. “Of course I understand,” said Ben finally. “You must do what you think best Hop Sing. Only …” he bit his lip. “I can’t tell you how much you’ll be missed around here. If it wasn’t for you I …”

 

Hop Sing put up his hand. “Enough!” he said firmly, not knowing if he could handle hearing what Ben was about to say. To hear such things spoken were more than he could handle at the moment and wanted to shut out the thoughts of what he was doing. “I need help,” he said finally. “How to … what is word … organise boat ticket?”

 

“Of course,” said Ben. “I’ll wire San Francisco for you and get it organised. If you need any money then …”

 

Hop Sing shook his head. “Have plenty,” he interrupted. “Never spend much wage.”

 

Ben nodded, knowing full well that most of the man’s wages were given to his family members in San Francisco anyway. “Of course,” he said. “Do you want me to tell the boys … or will you do it yourself?”

 

“You tell,” said Hop Sing, going back to his stirring. “Is better so.”

 

Ben nodded. “All right,” he said.  He got up and left the room abruptly, his own thoughts in turmoil as he thought about the implications of Hop Sing leaving.

 

Hop Sing stared out of the window as he heard the door close behind Ben. For a long time he was still as he tried to come to terms with his decision.  He had called The Ponderosa home for nearly twenty years and it was very difficult to imagine life anywhere else, but he knew that he was doing the right thing. He had been born in China and that was where he belonged, that was al there was to it. His eyes wandered down to the small plant that was on the windowsill … the plant wasn’t surviving in this foreign land and he should never have tried to grow it here. Back in China he’d be able to grow plenty allium plants again.

 

 

##########

 

 

 

“You ain’t serious!” said Joe when his father told them about Hop Sing’s decision that evening after supper. “He can’t go back to China!  Not Hop Sing!”

 

Ben put a hand on the young man’s shoulder. “Joseph, he’s made up his mind,” he said gently. “We have to support him in his decision.  We can’t make this any harder for him than it already is.” Joe was silent as he gave his father a mournful look. “Boys, I know this is hard for all of us,” continued Ben. “But you must remember that it’s hardest of all for Hop Sing. Try and …”  Ben stopped as Hop Sing entered the room with a coffeepot. “I’ve just told the boys about your decision Hop Sing,” Ben said.

 

“We understand,” said Adam quickly. “We know that you’re doing what’s best for you Hop Sing.” His eyes studied the man intently for a reaction, but saw none. “We’ll miss you, but we do understand.”

 

“Thank you Mr Adam,” said Hop Sing as he poured some coffee into his cup.

 

Hoss swallowed. “Yeah,” he said lamely. “Only …” His eyes met those of his father’s and he shut his mouth again. Joe said nothing, but simply, put his elbows on his knees, rested his chin on his hands and stared into the fire morosely.

 

“I’ll go into town and send that wire for you tomorrow,” said Ben, trying to sound matter-of-fact. “We should know in a couple of days when there is a ship sailing.”

 

“Thank you Mr Cartwright,” said Hop Sing.  He turned and left the room abruptly, leaving a room of shocked Cartwrights behind him.

 

“Who’s gonna do the cooking and stuff now?” asked Hoss in a miserable voice.

 

“We’ll have to get someone else, I suppose,” replied his father as he filled his pipe.

 

“Hop Sing has lots of relatives in town,” suggested Adam. “Maybe one of them would be available?”

 

“Not number three cousin Pa,” said Joe instantly. “He yells all the time.”

 

“Yeah,” agreed Hoss. “And that number eight cousin can’t cook like Hop Sing.”  He sighed. “No one can,” he added miserably. “I reckon we ain’t ever gonna get anyone to replace Hop Sing who’s as good a cook as him.”

 

“Probably not,” acknowledged Adam. “Only I happen to think that it might be nice if we show Hop Sing that we’re going to miss him more than what he does for us in the time we have left together,” he said.

 

“I agree,” said Ben firmly. “We’ll get a replacement cook and housekeeper somewhere boys, but we all know that no one can ever replace Hop Sing in our hearts.  I think we should make sure that he understands that before he goes. He’s given us years of service and we want to make sure that he knows how much he’s appreciated.”

 

In the hallway leading to the kitchen, Hop Sing clung onto the coffeepot with one hand and steadied himself against the wall with the other as he listened, his heart heavy and his head bowed.

 

 

##########

 

 

Hop Sing knocked on the door of the small house and waited while it was opened for him.  He gave a small bow to the Chinese man and then smiled at him. “Good morning my cousin,” he said politely.

 

The other man returned the bow and the smile. “Good morning,” he said. “Please come in. I was hoping that you might be in town today.”

 

“I have news,” said Hop Sing. “I received news in a letter that our uncle Hop Ling has died.”

 

“I also have received this news,” said his cousin sadly. “So you will now be returning to China?”

 

“Yes,” said Hop Sing, trying not to let his feelings show in his words. “I will be returning to take our uncle’s place as head of our family.”

 

His cousin nodded. “You will be expected to by the family who are left there,” he said. “You will also claim our uncle’s house and money.”

 

Hop Sing started. “I had not thought to,” he admitted. “I had not thought about it.”

 

His cousin stared at him. “It is yours by right,” he said simply. He stared at his cousin for a while. “You do not wish to return,” he stated.

 

Hop Sing shook his head.  “No,” he admitted. “My life is …” he searched for the right words. “I … am not sure where I belong now,” he admitted. “I thought that my life belonged in America … I’m not sure …. I have been transplanted to a new country, but I don’t really belong here.”

 

“You belong in China?”

 

Hop Sing shook his head. “No longer,” he admitted. “But I will still return.  I have … ob … obligation there.”

 

His cousin nodded sympathetically. “At least you will have money there,” he said. “That is something.”

 

“Yes,” said Hop Sing in a flat voice. “That is something.”

 

 

##########

 

 

“… so we should all be back again by tomorrow night,” finished Adam. He gave Hop Sing an appraising stare. “Are you all right?” he asked after a moment.

 

Hop Sing nodded. “Yes Mr Adam,” he said in a flat voice.

 

“So you’re OK with what I said?”

 

Hop Sing gave the other man a puzzled look. “What?” he asked vaguely.

 

“I said that I’m taking the equipment up to Buckhorn Flats and I’ll meet Pa and Hoss there late this afternoon,” Adam repeated. “We should all be back by tomorrow night, so there’ll only be Joe for supper tonight.  He’ll be back from town sometime this afternoon.”

 

Hop Sing nodded. “Yes,” he said. “Is all right.”

 

Adam gave the cook a sympathetic look. “This is hard for you, isn’t it?” he asked.

 

Hop Sing shook his head. “No,” he said. “One for supper is easy.”

 

“I didn’t meant that.  I meant ….”  Adam indicated the papers that were lying on the kitchen bench between them. “All of this … going back to China.  The ticket for the ship makes it so final, doesn’t it?”

 

“Your father get it for me,” said Hop Sing, looking at it sadly. “I will sail next week.  I travel to San Francisco on Thursday.”

 

“Yes I know that. What I’m trying to say is that I understand how hard this must be for you,” said Adam. “You must know that none of us are happy about it.  I mean … we understand why you’re going and we support your decision ….  But …” He gave the man a mournful look. “We all … well we appreciate all that you’ve done for us over the years Hop Sing.”

 

Hop Sing turned away. “Hop Sing know this,” he said. “Hop Sing like being here on Ponderosa too.  Like being with Cartwright family.”  He stopped as he felt a lump come into his throat and he swallowed before turning away from Adam. “Is very nice,” he finished lamely.

 

Adam patted him on the shoulder. “Yes,” he said. “For us too. Well I’ll be seeing you tomorrow Hop Sing.  Don’t let that younger brother of mine do anything stupid will you?”

 

Hop Sing stared in silence at the door as it closed behind Adam, wishing that he could find the words to tell him and his family what they meant to him. He jerked as he realised just what they did mean to him …. For the first time ever he was faced with losing them and all he could think about was that his heart was crying out to stay. As e listened to the sound of the buckboard leaving the yard outside he wondered what this meant. Did he in fact belong here more than he realised? Were his roots deeply transplanted here after all?  He glanced over at the allium plant on the windowsill, wondering why it was still holding on.  Now that he was leaving he would have to throw it away, and yet it still hadn’t quite died yet.  Hop Sing frowned, wishing that it would hurry up so that he could dispose of it.  Something inside him just couldn’t do it until then. He hoped that it would die before Thursday. With a shrug of his shoulders he went back to cleaning the stove again.

 

 

##########

 

 

Now that he was leaving, it was easy to see the good in everything around him and even the chickens didn’t look so bad this afternoon as Hop Sing passed their cage on the way to the barn to get some feed for them. He thought about how hard it was going to be to say goodbye to everything that he’d considered a part of his world for so many years and the thought wasn’t an easy one. Even though he didn’t quite feel a part of this country he still found himself longing to stay in spite of his strong feeling of duty to his family.

 

As he walked into the barn he wondered if perhaps it might be different if he had been allowed to become an American citizen?  Perhaps the act of pledging his allegiance to this country might have made all the difference?  Unfortunately now he’d never though, as it wasn’t possible for Chinese to become American citizens and what was the point of thinking about it anyway if he was leaving?

 

Hop Sing started as he caught a movement out of the corner of his eye.  He turned swiftly to see a man leading one of the horses out of the stall and he dropped his burlap bag in surprise. “What you do here?” he asked suspiciously. “What you do with Cartwright horse?”

 

The man turned to face him and Hop Sing drew in a startled breath when he recognised him as the same man who had tripped him in town the other day. He took a step back, suddenly very wary …. The look on the man’s face doing nothing to still his fears. “So it’s the Chinaboy again, is it?” he spat. “Well what do ya know?”  He gave a nasty chuckle and then stared at Hop Sing for a full minute in silence.

 

Hop Sing took another step backwards. “What you do with Cartwright horse?” he repeated, trying not to let his anxiety show on his face or in his voice. “You put back in stall.”

 

“You telling me what to do Chinaboy?” spat the man. “I don’t think so! This here horse has suddenly become my property …. I’m gonna show that uppity Cartwright fellar who tripped me up the other day a thing or two.”  He took out his gun and levelled it at Hop Sing. “Ain’t you or no one gonna stop me either Chinaboy.” Hop Sing stood still, hoping that the man would simply walk out of the barn and leave him in peace, but knowing in his heart that he was in serious danger. He stared at the gun in front of him as he listened to the frantic beating of his heart.

 

“Drop that gun and let go of that horse,” said a voice behind him and Hop Sing watched as the man snarled over his shoulder at whoever had come into the barn.

 

“Now then friend,” he said, pointing at Hop Sing. “I just found this Chinaboy here stealing this here horse.  Lucky for you that I stopped him in time eh?”  He grinned nastily at Hop Sing.

 

“Liar!” said the person behind him, whom Hop Sing now recognised to be Joe. “I said to drop that gun mister!”

 

“Sure,” said the man easily.  He made to drop the gun and then suddenly pulled the trigger and fired.  Behind him, Hop Sing heard Joe slump to the ground and without thinking he turned and rushed towards him. “Little Joe,” he said anxiously, forgetting all about the man behind him. “Little Joe .. you all right?”  He put his hand on Joe’s shoulder and shook him gently, watching with horror as a crimson stain began to spread over the front of his shirt.

 

“That’ll teach the kid to interrupt me,” said the man behind him. “Now where was we Chinaboy?”

 

Hop Sing grabbed hold of Joe’s gun which was hanging limply from his hand and turned and fired it, hitting the man full in the chest.  He gave Hop Sing a surprised look and opened his mouth to speak, but his eyes rolled back in his head before he could utter a word and he fell forward to the ground.  He never moved again.

 

Hop Sing turned back to Little Joe again, his thoughts instantly blocking out the man and what he’d done in his anxiety for the young man lying so still on the ground before him. His heart beat frantically as he tapped Joe’s cheek, willing him to open his eyes. “Little Joe,” he said. “Open eyes and answer Hop Sing.”  He swallowed as the realisation hit him that the young man might be already gone and he gathered him into his arms. “Open eyes for Hop Sing,” he pleaded, rocking the young man’s body back and forth in his arms. “Don’t be dead Little Joe.”

 

Joe’s eyes fluttered open for a moment and he groaned slightly. “I …” he murmured, but got no further as a wave of pain washed over him and he closed his eyes again with a groan.

 

Hop Sing patted the young man’s face gently. “Hop Sing look after you Little Joe,” he said gently. “You be all right. Hop Sing promise.”  He rocked the young man again, tears streaming down his face as he did so.

 

 

##########

 

 

Later on, Hop Sing wondered how he ever got Joe upstairs unaided.  The young man was only semi conscious and Hop Sing very slight, but slowly they inched their way towards the house and into the front bedroom where Hop Sing figured they were closer to the kitchen and the supplies that he would need to help Joe.  As he laid him gently on the bed, Joe groaned aloud again and clutched at his stomach where the crimson stain was still spreading. “Hurts…” he murmured softly and then groaned again.

 

“Hop Sing fix up,” said the cook, sounding much more confident than he felt. “I get hot water.”  There was no response from the young man on the bed as Hop Sing scurried into the kitchen and began to hastily gathered up towels from the cupboard and check ed the kettle on the stove. His mind raced quickly as he thought about the problems that he faced.  It was obvious that the bullet that was lodged in Joe’s stomach had to come out … and come out quickly.  There could be no waiting for the doctor, even if there was someone to send … and Hop Sing couldn’t leave Joe to go himself. There was only one option left to him if he was to save the young man’s life and Hop Sing cringed at the thought of it.

 

Many times, he had stood by the bedside of an injured man as the doctor had removed bullets or worse.  He had held instruments, helped staunch the blood and mop up afterwards.  He had used his vast knowledge of herbs to stop bleeding and diminish pain.  He had done all of this because he had the confidence in what the doctor was doing.  But this time he was on his own.  With trembling hands picked up the kettle of hot water and walked back into the guest room with it.

 

Joe was still lying in the same position on the bed, his hands clutching feebly at the bedspread. As Hop Sing entered the room and put down his towels and hot water, his eyes fluttered open and again and he gave the man a pleading look. “Don’t leave me,” he whispered pleadingly.

 

Hop Sing put a hand on the young man’s forehead and gave him a gentle smile. “Hop Sing not leave,” he said. “Stay right here with Little Joe.”  He wet a towel, wiped the young man’s forehead and then began to undo his shirt.  He bit down on his lip as he opened the shirt, seeing for the first time the extent of the wound.  There was so much blood that at first it was difficult to tell exactly how bad it was, but as he began to wipe the blood away he saw with a sinking heart that the bullet had entered the young man’s torso at an angle and his skin was torn for several inches.

“How bad is it?” asked Joe softly, his eyes still closed.

 

Hop Sing looked at the young man’s face, noting how pale he’d become even in this short time.  Beads of perspiration on his forehead and the way in which the whites of his knuckles were showing were enough indication to Hop Sing that he was in a great deal of pain. As he took away the towel from Joe’s torso, the blood immediately started to flow again and Hop Sing knew without a doubt that he had to act quickly. “Not too bad,” he lied. “I go get things from kitchen and get bullet out now.”  He stood up to move away from the bed, but Joe clutched at him wildly.

 

“Don’t go!” he said urgently. “Please stay … with me.  I … can’t …”  His eyes fluttered closed again and Hop Sing gently prised his fingers from his sleeve, ignoring the panic that he heard in Joe’s voice.  There was no time for him to think beyond the immediate need of cutting out the bullet.  He escaped to the kitchen and began to gather the implements that he would need, listening all the while to Joe’s soft groaning from the next room. By the time he came back again, Joe’s eyes were again open and he was staring at the cook.

 

“Can’t we wait … for the … doctor?” he asked groggily.

 

Hop Sing shook his head firmly as he organised his implements. “Must take bullet out now,” he said firmly. He patted Joe on the head. “Will be all right,” he said, wishing that someone were there to say the same thing to him.  He bent down and looked intently into Joe’s face. “Need both hands to remove bullet,” he said. “You must keep still by self.”

 

Joe swallowed and then nodded, holding onto the sides of the bed with all the feeble strength that he could muster.  Hop Sing closed his eyes momentarily and then opened them again.  With one hand he steadily wiped away the blood that was constantly forming around the wound and with the other he began to cut away the surrounding flesh.  Joe whimpered several times as he worked and by the time Hop Sing had exposed the bullet and reached for the forceps to pull it out the young man was openly groaning.  Hop Sing resolutely ignored the sounds coming from his patient and continued to work, focussing on little else but the bloody wound in front of him. By the time he had finished and dropped the bullet into the pan of water beside him, Joe had mercifully lost consciousness and was still.  Hop Sing gently laid his hand on the young man’s curly hair for a moment and then began to press down heavily on the wound with a fresh towel.

 

“Please let bleeding stop,” he said aloud to no one. “Please let stop.”  He knew that removing the bullet was only the first step and that if he couldn’t staunch the wound then Joe would ultimately bleed to death.  He pressed down heavily on the towel as he stared down at the young man’s face before him.  His heart constricted and his tears began to fall on Joe’s face.

 

 

##########

 

 

For what seemed like the hundredth time that night, Hop Sing wiped Joe’s face with the wet towel and then lifted the cloth with which he had covered the wound.  It was still bleeding slightly in spite of the parsley juice that he had rubbed on it to hasten the clotting of the blood.  Joe’s face was even paler and seemed to have no blood in it at all, and he muttered softly to himself as he tossed his head back and forth on the pillow. “Pa,” he murmured. “Pa.”

 

‘Papa come soon,” said Hop Sing gently, although he knew that Ben and his other sons were hours away from coming home. Mr Adam had said the next evening and it was still many hours until dawn now.

 

Joe’s eyes fluttered open again and he stared up at Hop Sing. “I feel … so … tired,” he whispered.

 

“You lost lot of blood,” said Hop Sing. “You drink this.”  He lifted Joe’s head and watched with satisfaction as the young man drank from the cup he held to his mouth. “You feel better soon,” he said.

 

Joe continued to stare at Hop Sing. “When will … Pa be … home?” he asked in a weak voice.

 

“Soon,” lied Hop Sing. “He come soon.”  He lifted the cloth again and tried not to frown and the red stain that was still slowly spreading on it.  If the bleeding didn’t stop soon, then Joe wouldn’t even last the night.

 

“I want … to see … him,” whispered Joe. “Before …”  His voice trailed away, and he was unable to continue.

 

“Before nothing,” said Hop Sing in a stern voice. “You see Papa when he get here.  You sleep now.”  His heart constricted again as he watched the young man’s eyes flutter closed again. As he gazed at him, Hop Sing’s mind began to wander and he thought back to all the times Joe had come to him as a child.  He could still see the little boy’s face gazing up at him trustingly as he waited for Hop Sing to fix whatever his problem was … whether one of his little boy hurts or the answer to the question that needed to be addressed immediately in his small mind.  Joe had always depended on him and Hop Sing had always been there for him … it made his heart bleed to think that this time he mightn’t be able to fix things.

 

When his mother had died Hop Sing had taken this boy to his heart and Joe in his trusting way had responded with as much love as he could muster. Hop Sing jerked as he suddenly realised that it wasn’t just affection that bound him to this young man … and indeed this whole family … it was love.  It was clear to him as he gazed down as the unconscious young man in front of him that he loved Joe and his brothers deeply.  Perhaps he didn’t quite belong in this country that he’d adopted, but he certainly belonged in this family.

 

Hop Sing squared his shoulders and leant forward to wipe Joe’s forehead again as the young man once more whimpered for his father. “Your papa not here yet,” he said softly. “But not to worry … your Hop Sing is here … your Hop Sing look after you.”  He hesitated before adding. “Your Hop Sing love you Little Joe.”

 

Joe murmured again and opened his eyes. He gazed up at the man sitting beside the bed and reached out to grasp hold of his hand. “Don’t leave me Hop Sing,” he pleaded. “I’m scared.”

 

Hop Sing smiled at him gently. “Hop Sing not leave you,” he said soothingly. “Hop Sing always be here to look after you.” Joe smiled back at him and gave a small sigh as he settled down in the bed and closed his eyes.

 

 

##########

 

“Doc Martin says that if you hadn’t taken the bullet out when you did and apply those remedies of yours to the wound that Joseph wouldn’t have made it through the night,” said Ben. “How can I ever thank you Hop Sing?  You saved the boy’s life.”

 

“He be all right now?” asked Hop Sing anxiously. “Doc Martin say so?”

 

Ben nodded. “Yes,” he said, his relief evident in his voice. “It’ll take a while until he gets his strength back, but he’ll be fine in time.”

 

Hop Sing nodded. “No thanks necessary Mr Cartwright.” He my boy too, he added in his heart. No thanks necessary for saving something you love.  He smiled at Ben. “I get supper ready,” he said. “Boys be hungry when get back from town.”

 

“Yes I suppose they will,” said Ben. “They’ve taken the body to the funeral parlour for burial … but you must be tired Hop Sing.  Sit down for a while.”

 

“Hop Sing not tired,” said the man, although he felt a weariness take hold of him and his body begged for sleep. “I get supper.”  He started towards the kitchen and then turned to face Ben again. “Thank you for getting ticket for ship,” he said, but Hop Sing not need now.”

 

“Not need it?  Why not?”

 

“Not going back China,” explained the cook.

 

Ben’s face became wreathed in a huge smile. “But your family …” he said. “What about your family?  Don’t they need you?”

 

Hop Sing shrugged. “My family here,” he said simply. “My family in America need me more.”

 

They stared at each other for a moment. “But what about the tradition …” asked Ben. “You’re the head of your family back in China aren’t you?  You said that you need to go back and take your uncle’s place.”

 

Hop Sing nodded. “Yes,” he said. “But sometimes traditions must be broken.  Hop Sing have very large family.  Will find someone else to be head of family.”

 

Ben walked over and put a hand on the other man’s shoulder. “Well if you’re sure,” he said. “I must say that the boys will be mighty pleased to hear it.  I’m mighty glad to hear it myself.”

 

Hop Sing stood for a moment looking at Ben, their eyes meeting in mutual understanding. “I get supper,” he said finally. “Must look after boys when get back.”

 

“As always,” murmured Ben as the cook left the room and then turned and headed back to the guest room again where Joe was still sleeping in a drug-induced state.

 

 

##########

 

 

“I thought you understood that you weren’t to come any further than the front porch Joseph?” said Ben angrily. “Get back there please!”

 

Joe gave his father a frustrated look. “But Pa I’m fine,” he pleaded. “I’m so sick of not being able to do anything.  Can’t I at least stay out here in the yard for a bit?”

 

“Doctor’s orders,” said Ben firmly. “Either get back on that porch or get inside young man.”  He pointed towards the house and Joe pouted before stomping off towards the kitchen muttering to himself.

 

“What you do in kitchen?” said Hop Sing as Joe slammed the door behind him. “No slam door!”

 

“Sorry,” said Joe, sitting down on a stool and watching Hop Sing work. “I just got nothing to do and Pa won’t let me even go into the front yard.”

 

Hop Sing stifled a grin at the expression on the young man’s face. “I talk to father for you if like,” he said. “Got plenty of chores you can do in yard.”

 

Joe’s face lit up. “Yeah?’ he said. “Well I reckon even chores would be fine after two weeks of not being allowed out.  Can you talk to him for me Hop Sing?”

 

“Will talk,” said Hop Sing with a twinkle in his eye. “Little Joe collect many eggs if father say all right.”

 

‘Eggs?” sad Joe, his expression changed to a wary one. “Well on second thoughts, maybe it’d be better if I didn’t do too much at first.”

 

Hop Sing shook his head firmly. “Exercise be good for you,” he said. “Will talk to father.”

 

Joe swallowed. “Don’t bother,” he said. “Really Hop Sing … it’s OK.”  He stood up. “I’ll think I’ll go and take it easy for a while. What are we having for supper?”

 

“Roast chicken,” said Hop Sing.  He smiled at the dead chicken on the bench in front of him as he picked up a cleaver and brought it down on the bird’s neck, severing it in one blow. “This chicken peck Hop Sing for last time.”

 

Joe chuckled and left the room. As Hop Sing continued to work, his eyes drifted over to the windowsill where a small leafy plant was thriving in a pot in the sunshine.  All it had needed was time, he thought to himself. That’s all any of us need really.  He smiled as he thought of the many pale-red blooms that would soon be flourishing on the plant … forever a reminder of the land in which he had grown up and of the uncle that he had loved so dearly. In time he would tell his new family of their significance.

 

 

 

The End