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Epilogue

Hop Sing had been busy in the kitchen since before sunrise. He was tired and hot…and irritated by the conversation taking place in the great room. Today marked the first time in more than two weeks the family was together under that roof. They should not foul the air speaking about people who did not deserve their attention.

“No more talk of Missy Ellie Lind-a-strom!” he declared as he noisily deposited a stack of dishes onto the dining table. Then he turned to point a finger directly at Little Joe, who still looked tired though he’d been dozing for the past couple of hours in the blue chair at the far end of the fireplace. “Missy Ellie no good!”

He shook his head in disapproval at the way Ben Cartwright’s number three son had his feet propped up on the coffee table-this time at the insistence of his father rather than to his father’s dismay. Little Joe shouldn’t even be there. The doctor told him if he wasn’t careful some of those cracked ribs could break. Hop Sing had enough work to do as it was, with Mr. Adam still limping and Mr. Hoss only just starting back to his usual chores. He didn’t need the extra trouble of worrying over a foolish boy who didn’t bother following his doctor’s advice to stay in town for another week.

With an exaggerated “harrumph!” Hop Sing scurried back to the kitchen.

“You’re right about Ellie, Hop Sing!” Mr. Hoss shouted after him before lowering his voice, directing his next words to the others in the room. “The way the rumors are already flyin’ about her and Zachary Mullins, I reckon all she cared about was hog-tyin’ someone into marryin’ her, an’ it didn’t much matter who!”

“Maybe Eli Garrett actually did you a favor, Joe,” Mr. Adam said then, his words causing Hop Sing to freeze in mid-slice and toss his knife back to the counter.

When Hop Sing made it back to the great room, he was surprised to see Mr. Ben’s number three son smiling. “I’d rather be hog-tied by Ellie Lindstrom than spend another night trussed up in a hay loft,” the foolish boy said.

“Mista Eli Garrett do no favor!” Hop Sing pointed his finger this time at Mr. Adam before shuffling back toward the table, intent on setting out and arranging the stack of dishes without missing whatever was said next.

“I don’t know about that, Hop Sing,” Mr. Adam said with a grin in his voice, as though anyone could find humor in Mr. Eli Garrett’s crimes. “After all, he saved Joe from a conniving girl, he cleared the way for the Henderson’s to expand their house and plant a bigger garden, and-”

“And almost kill Little Joe!” Hop Sing shook a steak knife at Mr. Adam. “And drop Mr. Hoss in dark pit. And-”

“And,” Mr. Ben Cartwright interrupted, “he caused both you and me to worry half to death, not to mention locking you in a room in a burning house. We all owe you a debt of gratitude, Hop Sing. You risked your life to-”

Hop Sing waved a hand in dismissal and turned away. He didn’t have time for this. The only thing that might be burning soon was supper. He decided to finish voicing his complaints in Chinese; his adopted family didn’t need to understand the words to recognize what he meant. They were all home, together. That was what mattered, and Hop Sing would rather complain than be embarrassed by foolish emotions.

Even so, after he made it back into the kitchen, Hop Sing grew quiet.

“Mei Ling turned him down,” he heard Mr. Adam say in a soft tone probably intended to prevent Hop Sing from overhearing.

“What?” Mr. Hoss asked.

“Mei Ling,” Mr. Adam went on. “The girl who helped me at Garrett’s house. When Hop Sing found out she had no family here, he made arrangements to send her off to one of his cousins in San Francisco. But she turned him down…respectfully, of course.”

“What’d she go and do that for?”

“One of the young men from Hop Sing’s posse took a liking to her, and, apparently, she feels the same.”

“Ya’ think Hop Sing’s mad about that?”

“Only on the outside,” Mr. Adam answered in that grinning voice of his. “On the inside, I have a feeling he’s happy for her.”

“Like how on the inside he’s happy about Little Joe havin’ his feet on the coffee table?”

“Hey!” Little Joe complained. “I can’t help it if it hurts to lie down!”

Yes, Hop Sing said somewhere in his heart. Mei Ling deserves a happy marriage; it was not right how Mister Elijah Garrett had hurt her. Hop Sing was as happy for her as he was that Little Joe was home now, despite the doctor’s concerns. Little Joe was finally back on the Ponderosa where Hop Sing could watch over him as he’d done through that boy’s entire life. And through most of Mr. Hoss’s, too. Poor Mr. Hoss had taken to leaving his lamp burning low at night, a thing he hadn’t done since he’d been a small boy.

Mr. Elijah Garrett had brought much suffering to Hop Sing’s family, and somehow it was up to Hop Sing to make it all right again.

“Hop Sing?”

Mr. Ben’s voice in the doorway startled him into rushing his pace with the knife. Slicing too quickly then, he barely missed cutting his thumb. He scolded Mr. Ben for the interruption while he pulled a towel across his eyes to wipe away tears brought about by the pungent onion.

“I’m sorry, Hop Sing,” Mr. Ben said. “I was just wondering if there was anything I could do to help. You’ve locked yourself away in here all day.”

Chinese words were the only ones that would come. Hop Sing uttered them in a flurry as he shooed Mr. Ben away. He had too much work to do to waste time with foolish nonsense.

Thirty minutes later, he called the family to the table, but it was another fifteen minutes before they were all seated and ready to be served.

“Hop Sing say supper ready, and no one come,” he chided them as he set out two warm loaves of bread. “All the time, dinner burn or get cold.”

“That bread sure ain’t cold,” Mr. Hoss said. “It smells awful good, too!”

“Good. Then you eat!” Hop Sing stood in the kitchen doorway with his arms folded in front of his chest.

The whole family watched him. He watched them right back until brows began to knit in bewilderment and glances passed back and forth around the table.

“Hop Sing?” Mr. Hoss asked. “Ain’t ya’ gonna bring in the rest?”

“What rest? You eat, now! Bread and water, just like jail!”

Mr. Hoss wrinkled up his face like he might be sick. “But this ain’t jail, Hop Sing!”

“I can assure you Sheriff Coffee serves a bit more than bread and water,” Mr. Adam added.

“Maybe in Mr. Sheriff Coffee jail you get more. But in Hop Sing jail you get bread and water!”

“What’s all this about jail, Hop Sing?” Mr. Ben asked.

“Mr. Sheriff Coffee make Hop Sing deputy.”

“Of course, Hop Sing,” Mr. Ben said. “But that was temporary. Surely you don’t-”

“Jail good for more than keep prisoner from escape,” Hop Sing interrupted. “Jail also good to keep family from disappearing!”

“You don’t actually expect to keep us locked up in our own home,” Mr. Adam said. “Do you?”

“Mr. Adam promise no more disappear?”

Mr. Adam looked at each member of his family, and then answered with a grin. “I promise to the extent that I can, considering-”

“Mr. Hoss?”

“I reckon so, same as Adam. Especially if that means you’ll serve up a big piece of that roast you’ve had cookin’ all day!”

“Little Joe?”

Hop Sing could see the boy was struggling not to laugh. “As long as no one else tries to hog-tie me, I guess I can promise that.”

Hop Sing unfolded his arms and pointed accusingly at Little Joe. “Hop Sing hog-tie Little Joe, if Little Joe not careful!”

The boy’s giggle finally escaped then. “Ow!” Little Joe complained. “Don’t make me laugh!”

“Does it hurt to eat, too, Joe?” Mr. Hoss asked. “‘Cause if it does, I’ll be happy to have your share!”

“Of bread?” Mr. Adam said.

And then Little Joe laughed harder…and complained more loudly.

And Hop Sing smiled-on the inside. On the outside, he spouted off a tirade in Chinese and headed back into the kitchen to bring out the meal he’d spent an entire day preparing.

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~end~