XxXxX

6

Hop Sing wanted to use his new status in law enforcement to throw Mr. Elijah Garrett in jail, but Sheriff Coffee had other ideas. They were still supposed to pretend they knew nothing about the kidnapping of Ben Cartwright’s sons. They hadn’t gathered enough information to ensure nothing worse would happen to the boys if word got out that Ben had shared information he’d been expressly told to keep to himself. Besides, information by itself could be considered hearsay if they didn’t have evidence to back it up, and so far they barely even had proof that a crime had occurred. All they knew for certain was that the Cartwright brothers’ horses had been delivered to Ben Cartwright’s front door, and two of the three had been marked with blood.

Frustrated, the cook-turned-deputy watched Mr. Elijah Garrett strutting out of the sheriff’s office like he owned the world. Then Hop Sing shook his head, said a few choice words in Mandarin the sheriff would have been aghast to hear if he’d known what they meant, and headed off to patrol the Chinese neighborhoods in search of any information he could find that would meet with the requirements of the United States legal system to at least warrant a formal investigation.

Three hours later, he found better evidence than he could have hoped for: Adam Cartwright’s hat. It sat atop a paper wrapped bundle a delivery boy was carrying away from Chow Fung’s laundry.

“What is that?” he called out to the boy in his native language.

The boy froze and then frowned, looking at the badge adorning Hop Sing’s shirt.

Hop Sing grabbed Adam’s hat and nodded to the package. “What are you doing with this?”

“I am making a delivery.”

“Where are you taking it?”

The boy handed Hop Sing a slip of paper. He recognized the address instantly: it belonged to the house of Mr. Elijah Garrett.

XxXxX

“Well, I got to hand it to you, Hop Sing,” Sheriff Coffee said, chuckling softly and shaking his head like he was having a hard time believing that Hop Sing had single-handedly uncovered their first bit of hard evidence that connected Elijah Garrett to the disappearance of Ben Cartwright’s sons-or one of them, anyway. “This could even be good enough to-”

“You arrest Mr. Elijah Garrett now?” Hop Sing smiled, certain the answer would be ‘yes.’

“No,” the sheriff said instead.

Hop Sing’s excitement was gone in an instant. “Not good evidence?”

“It ain’t that simple. Oh, it’s good evidence, alright. But we act on it now, we could be risking the lives of all Ben’s boys. We just don’t know enough about where they are or what Garrett might do if his plans start to fall apart.”

“Then Hop Sing get more information.”

“How about we both see about gettin’ more information?”

“Hop Sing make delivery.”

“What?”

“Hop Sing make delivery…for the boy. Take number one son’s clothes to house of Mr. Elijah Garrett. Then maybe Hop Sing find more information or evidence.”

Sheriff Coffee shook his head. “Too risky. If Garrett saw you, he’d know Ben said somethin’.”

“Mr. Elijah Garrett not look at Chinese people. Mr. Elijah Garrett not notice Hop Sing.”

“He sure gave notice to you in here not much more than three hours ago.”

“Mr. Garrett not notice if Hop Sing not with Mr. Ben Cartwright. And Hop Sing deliver to back door. Mr. Garrett use front door.”

The sheriff seemed surprised. He looked at Hop Sing for a long while before giving a slow nod of agreement. “You’ve already thought it all out, haven’t you?”

Hop Sing bobbed his head up and down excitedly.

“Well, maybe you done a good job of thinking about it. But doing it, now, that could be a whole different thing.”

“Hop Sing ready.” He took a deep breath, pushing out his chest and pulling his back as straight as he could, like he’d seen soldiers do whenever they were in town.

The sheriff chuckled again. “I imagine you are, at that. An’…it might just work. But…and I can’t believe I’m agreeing to this…you better hide that new badge of yours.”

Hop Sing was already moving the badge from his shirt to the underside of his hat.

“And don’t you even think of doin’ anythin’ while you’re in there other than gettin’ information. You got that?”

“Hop Sing get information.” He nodded again and then quickly shook his head from side to side. “Nothing more.”

“You don’t talk to anyone except whoever takes those clothes from you.”

Hop Sing nodded.

“An’ I’ll be watchin’ from somewhere close.” Still, Sheriff Coffee stared long and hard at him, making no move to get up.

“Hop Sing not do anything to risk Mr. Ben Cartwright sons.”

Sheriff Coffee’s nod wasn’t nearly as animated as Hop Sing’s had been. He also took a deeper breath than Hop Sing had a moment earlier; but it did nothing to straighten his back. Instead, his shoulders seemed to slump down a little, as though he were carrying something heavy. “I know that, Hop Sing. Trouble is, I don’t know what Garrett might do to you if he finds ya’ there.”

The sheriff’s concern confused Hop Sing. He shook his head again. “Hop Sing only trouble what Mr. Elijah Garrett do to Mr. Ben Cartwright sons.”

The sheriff smiled again, but it was a tired, somewhat sad sort of smile. “You’re a good man, Hop Sing. Shame there ain’t more like you in these parts.”

“Men like Mr. Elijah Garrett not agree.”

“Well, a man like Mr. Elijah Garrett ain’t worth a hundred like you. An’ the sooner we find out what he did to Ben’s boys, the sooner we can rid ourselves of Mr. Elijah Garrett himself.”

After the sheriff rose from his desk, he patted Hop Sing on the shoulder and then did something no one had done before; he held the door for Hop Sing-a small gesture, perhaps, but one that gave the Chinese cook-turned-deputy enough confidence to do whatever it would take to solve the mystery of Ben Cartwright’s missing sons.

XxXxX

Adam marked up the drawing with everything he could remember from his own efforts prior to determining the mine needed to be shut down. Months of calculations, weeks of trial and error and a mountain of wasted paper were reduced to a series of lines, shapes and symbols on this one, single drawing.

Hoss would find it familiar. It might take him a while, but he would come to recognize Adam’s previous work, the last drawing he’d made before discovering a critical flaw that made it clear the mine was not workable. Yes, Hoss would recognize it, given time. But no one else would…except maybe Joe.

Where was Joe? Was he with Hoss at the mine? Somehow, Adam doubted it. Hoss’s letter had said “from what I hear.” That could mean he was getting information about Joe, but not from Joe, directly. If they’d separated Adam from his brothers, it made sense his brothers had been separated, too.

Dammit! If Adam could just figure out who ‘they’ were, then maybe he might get a better idea what problems he’d be facing when he managed to get out of this room.

It didn’t matter, he decided. Whatever crew Adam’s anonymous host and jailer had hired would be kept busy for a couple of days at least, putting up timbers. After that, it would just be a matter of time before the first series of cave-ins proved out what the Cartwrights had already known. Adam had no intention of allowing it to go long enough for that to happen. He would be out of this room before then, one way or another. He would be out of this room and….

And what? Running down the street in nothing but a nightshirt, trying to raise an army to battle a force he knew nothing about?

The rattle of his door came like a welcome reprieve, pulling him from the frustrating paths his thoughts were taking. He even smiled when the girl entered with his supper tray.

“You can tell them it’s done,” he told her.

She did nothing more than glance his way as she set the tray on the desk, but there was something in her stance that caught his attention. She seemed tense, nervous…more nervous than she’d been previously.

“Is something wrong?” he asked.

She threw him a worried glance and held a finger to her lips, shaking her head.

Adam rose. As he closed the distance between them, she fumbled clumsily with the dishes before pulling the cloth napkin from its holder to expose something other than eating utensils that had been cleverly hidden within its unusually wide folds: a claw hammer, the perfect tool for removing nails.

Pleasantly surprised, Adam gently set his hand down upon her own, as much to still its shaking as to get her full attention. When she finally looked at him directly, he whispered, “thank you.”

Her responding smile was small and quick before she turned away again, seeming eager to leave the room.

Adam grabbed her wrist to hold her back. Her gaze this time was filled with fear. “I won’t leave you here,” he said quietly.

She looked first to the door, and then back to him, a heavy sigh pulling her shoulders low as tension melted in surrender…but not to him. She slowly shook her head and slipped out of his loose grip. An instant later, she was scurrying back out the door.

Bewildered, Adam didn’t look away until he heard the lock clicking back into place. Then he grabbed up the hammer and set to work on the window.

XxXxX

Ben Cartwright glared at the man sitting directly across from him at the far end of the lavishly set dining room table. Elijah Garrett had succeeded in kidnapping not only Ben’s three sons, but Ben himself. Oh, he wasn’t being threatened at gunpoint. His hands weren’t tied in the literal sense. No, the threats against Ben were far more disturbing than if they’d been levied against his own, physical well-being.

“Please, Ben, eat,” Garrett said with a mockingly honeyed tone. “As my guest of honor, it behooves you to taste your food before I taste my own. I assure you, it is quite safe, and quite good, as well. My cook could certainly teach yours a thing or two.”

“I am no more your guest of honor than-”

“Now, Ben. This is not a place for distasteful discussion,” Garrett scolded softly, talking to Ben as though he were a young boy who had yet to learn good manners. “This is a dining room, and you have been served a splendid meal by a host who intends to provide you with nothing but the best. The least you could do is to graciously accept my rather generous hospitality.”

“Generous? You threaten to kill my sons, yet you call yourself generous?”

“Threatening, Ben, is generous. Carrying out the threat, well, that would only prove my generosity has been extended as far as it could possibly go. There are limits, after all. You seem intent on testing those limits, but I must caution you against doing so.”

“And I must caution you that any harm you bring to my sons will come back to you a hundredfold,” Ben said coldly.

“Your threats have no power against me. I hold all the power, here.”

“That wasn’t a threat. It was a promise.”

Garrett laughed softly. “You think yourself a lion; but a caged lion might as well be a lamb. And you are caged, Ben. Don’t for a moment think you’re not. You are caged, and this is my circus. Now, you want to do something for your sons? Eat and stop all this miserable roaring. It’s not good for digestion.”

Ben continued staring at the man, but Garrett stopped paying him any notice. Apparently choosing to ignore his own demand that Ben be the first to eat, Elijah Garrett gave his attention over entirely to the food on his own plate.

XxXxX

Hop Sing had barely raised his hand to knock when the door came open and a young Chinese woman greeted him with a small but respectful bow. Without raising her eyes to his, she reached immediately for the hat and package of laundered clothing Hop Sing carried.

He was not prepared to relinquish them so easily. “You have seen the man who wears these?” he asked in Mandarin, holding the package away from her.

A small gasp pulled her head up, long, black hair sliding away from her face to reveal bruises that could only have been made by a well-or poorly-aimed fist. When her gaze met Hop Sing’s, she shook her head slowly, her eyes telling him she was not answering his question, but rather warning him against asking it.

“You have seen him,” he told her.

She said nothing. She did not need to. Her eyes said more than enough.

“He is here,” Hop Sing deduced.

Her brows drew down as though in desperation, her fear noticeably growing more intense. Still she said nothing.

“How many others are here?” he asked.

She began to breathe harder, faster. She made a quick, nervous glance behind her before returning her attention to him. “Four,” she whispered.

“Armed?”

She shook her head anxiously, seeming surprised. “Two have guns. The master of the house wears none. The other man is not allowed.”

“This other man is Mr. Ben Cartwright?”

Her eyes widened. She nodded quickly.

“Where is his son, the one who wears these?”

She hesitated, her gaze shifting from fear to worry. “In the upper bedroom, third floor,” she said finally. And then, “You….” She stopped herself from saying more.

“What?” Hop Sing prompted.

“You are Hop Sing?”

Surprised, Hop Sing nodded. “You know of Hop Sing?”

Her smile was quick, but real. “Ben Cartwright spoke of you when I brought supper.”

“Cook!” a man’s voice called from deeper in the house.

“I must go!” she reached for the package once more.

“He will hurt you again.”

“Only if I do not respond right away. Please. I must go.”

Hop Sing hesitated for an instant longer. “Do not lock this door.”

She nodded, took the package, and hurried back inside.

Hop Sing shook his head slowly. The only thing allowing him to turn and walk away was the knowledge he would be back within just a few moments. First, he must share this new information with Sheriff Coffee, and then, yes, he would be back. There were two men with guns inside, no more. Surely Sheriff Coffee and his eager cook-turned-deputy would be enough to combat them.

He never anticipated there might be a third gunman watching the house from the outside until the weapon was cocked and its barrel leveled against his temple.

XxXxX