Summary:\u00a0\u00a0It should have been a routine cattle drive. But what with Hop Sing announcing it was doomed from the start, and then the arrival of an Englishman and his eccentric horse, the cattle drive was to be anything but.<\/p>\n
Rated:\u00a0 K+<\/p>\n
Word Count:\u00a0 7750<\/p>\n
Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, setting, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.<\/p>\n
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The Englishman and his Wayward Horse<\/strong><\/p>\n <\/p>\n \u201cMy dear sirs, what a pleasure it is to make your acquaintance. Fenimore St. John Ware\u2019s the name. Please, call me Fenimore. I\u2019m here on an excursion, enjoying this spectacular country of yours.\u201d<\/p>\n He had been spotted from a mile away: a single figure alone in the wide-open grassland, bending over a piece of head-height apparatus. As they approached, they could see the object was an easel and that the stranger was dressed in a knee-length smock smeared with all shades of color. He would glance up periodically to scrutinize the gently rolling landscape before him before leaning over his canvas to dash a dab of pigment here or smudge his thumb in the paint there. So intent was he on the task at hand, it was only when the chuckwagon\u2019s rattling and clattering penetrated his concentration did he look up and beam widely at them.<\/p>\n The driver of the chuckwagon, a somewhat bad-tempered Chinaman, gathered up the reins of his team to bring them to a stop and frowned down at the elaborately titled gentleman. \u201cYou need move, not safe, lot of cattle come this way. Need move now.\u201d<\/p>\n The smile had not left Fenimore\u2019s face. \u201cCattle? Here?\u201d He gazed around the peaceful landscape where the only sound was a soft wind rustling through the knee-high grass. \u201cWhatever do you mean?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWhat Hop Sing means\u2026\u201d A man of imposing size seated next to the Chinaman sat forward so Fenimore could see him. \u201cWhat my polite, good-natured pal here is sayin\u201d – his nostrils flared as he threw a sideways look at the Chinaman – \u201cis that there\u2019s a cattle drive headin\u2019 this way, and you\u2019re smack plumb in its path.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cOh! I hadn’t realized. But I should introduce myself formally. My name is Fenimore St. John Ware.\u201d He held out his hand. The Chinaman, Hop Sing, muttered something in his own tongue and kept his grip on the reins. Fenimore withdrew his arm haltingly but at the sight of Hop Sing\u2019s companion holding out his hand to him, he moved around in front of the four horses, keeping a wide berth, and took the man\u2019s proffered hand in a firm grasp.<\/p>\n \u201cJolly good to meet you,\u201d said Fenimore.<\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019m Hoss Cartwright, sir. Sorry to not come down and introduce myself as I should; my foot\u2019s all banged up and it\u2019s like scalin\u2019 the heights of Mount Davidson to be gettin\u2019 up and down.\u201d He pointed at an unbooted foot wrapped in a heavy bandage. There was another muttering of Chinese and Hoss glared at the man next to him. \u201cDon\u2019t you be cussin\u2019 at me, Hop Sing, it was you who done run over my foot with this here wagon in the first place. I ain\u2019t saying another word to you until you admitted what you done and said sorry for it.\u201d<\/p>\n His brow smoothed as he turned back to Fenimore who had been following the exchange of words. \u201cJudgin\u2019 by your voice, sir, you ain\u2019t from around here.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYou\u2019re very astute, young man, very astute. I\u2019ve come all the way from Cambridgeshire in England just to see your magnificent country.\u201d He gestured around him. \u201cLook at this land, sir, we have nothing like this back home. The light, the colors\u2014oh goodness\u2014it\u2019s simply perfect for an amateur artist like myself. It really is marvelous.\u201d<\/p>\n One of Hoss\u2019s eyebrows rose. \u201cMarvelous it may be, Mister, um, Mister\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n Fenimore dug deep into his jacket pocket to pull out a small, battered card and handed it to Hoss. It looked even smaller as Hoss held it in his large fingers and read the words out loud. \u201cFenimore Saint John\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cSinjun, it\u2019s pronounced Sinjun. I know, yet another of the foibles of the English language. But please, call me Fenimore.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWell, um, Fenimore, you cain\u2019t be here because in a coupla hours my pa and brothers are gonna be leadin\u2019 about three thousand head of cattle right along this trail here.\u201d<\/p>\n Fenimore\u2019s ever-present smile drooped slightly. \u201cI see. Yes, that is rather a large number of animals. I don\u2019t suppose I can just step aside to let them pass?\u201d<\/p>\n Hoss gently shook his head, a smile forming on his lips. \u201cCattle have a habit of wanderin\u2019 wherever they dang well pleased, they ain\u2019t ones for walkin\u2019 in a straight line. No, sir. You need to get your bits and pieces together and be on your way.\u201d Hoss suddenly frowned. \u201cWait a minute. Where\u2019s your horse?\u201d<\/p>\n The tips of Fenimore\u2019s fingers began to drum together. \u201cAh, you see, there\u2019s the rub. Bertie\u2019s, uh, run off.\u201d He smiled an embarrassed smile. \u201cHe\u2019ll come back, he always does, it\u2019s just, at the present time, I appear to be up the creek without a paddle, so to speak.\u201d<\/p>\n Hoss twisted to look at the irritable Hop Sing who merely harrumphed and turned to face forward. A glance back at the exuberant gentleman next to the wagon revealed a face full of hope and expectation. He sighed. \u201cGet your things.\u201d<\/p>\n And so it was Fenimore St. John Ware found himself balanced precariously on the edge of a seat which only comfortably fit two, next to an irascible Chinaman and a somewhat large cowboy with a bandaged foot; his gear stowed in the back of the chuckwagon. His destination was unknown, but Fenimore was an adventurer, and for reasons unknown he trusted the big friendly cowboy. His grin became as wide as the firmament.<\/p>\n **********<\/p>\n A lantern atop the chuck box cast its light over the queue of cowboys waiting patiently for Hop Sing to dish out servings of beans and sourdough bread. The newcomer, already known simply as the Englishman on account of his long-convoluted name being too long and convoluted to pronounce, was sitting by the fire with a stub of charcoal scribbling in a leather-bound sketchbook.<\/p>\n \u201cI always saw myself as a landscapist,\u201d he was saying to Ben Cartwright, the trail boss, \u201cbut I find myself utterly intrigued by your manner of dress, and your moody Chinese fellow is utterly captivating and that marvelous contraption,\u201d he pointed to the chuckwagon, \u201cwell, I think I may become more of a painter of human life in this wild west of yours.\u201d His hand moved rapidly across the paper.<\/p>\n Big Ben Cartwright, grey of hair and yet with a sparkle in his eyes that spoke of a youthfulness of spirit, took a sip of his coffee and surveyed the firelit countenances of his men. \u201cAll the world is here, under these stars,\u201d he said. \u201cYou could do worse than to paint old Jack there, or the Rainbird twins, Thomas and John.\u201d The three oldest men looked up from their plates at mention of their names and nodded in acknowledgement. \u201cThere is a lifetime of experience in every line and wrinkle on their faces.\u201d<\/p>\n Fenimore paused. \u201cYou have an artist\u2019s soul, sir,\u201d he said, \u201cyou see more than just the fa\u00e7ade.\u201d<\/p>\n A tirade of Chinese sounded, and the men raised their heads to see Hop Sing grabbing back empty plates from some of the youngsters. Ben\u2019s eyes twinkled. \u201cYou may want to avoid Hop Sing though. He\u2019s been in a sour mood since we left home. Something about leaving on the fourth day of the fourth month being unlucky. It doesn\u2019t help that we gave him four horses and two of them are black. Far too many bad omens in Hop Sing\u2019s eyes.\u201d Ben chuckled. \u201cAnd then he ran over Hoss\u2019s foot on our first night out.\u201d Ben looked over his shoulder at the cook to be met with a scowl and more slammed crockery. \u201cYep, best avoid Hop Sing.\u201d<\/p>\n Hoss was lying on his back with his head resting on an upturned saddle, his injured foot nudging the fire. With his hands folded over his belly and his face hidden beneath a hat, he was a vision of restful slumber. Fenimore found a fresh sheet in his sketchbook and began to draw with gusto.<\/p>\n \u201cYour son mentioned he had brothers, Mr. Cartwright.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cPlease, call me Ben, and yes, that would be Adam and Joseph. Can you hear the singing? That\u2019s Adam and Joe singing to the cows.\u201d<\/p>\n Fenimore looked up and faced the direction of the herd. Over the chorus of cicadas and the baying of the cattle, two voices were harmonizing together in a slow ballad. \u201cYes, I can hear them, and what fine voices they have too.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThat\u2019s my boys.\u201d Ben could not keep the pride from his voice.<\/p>\n Fenimore frowned. \u201cBut sir, did you say they were singing\u2026to the cows?\u201d<\/p>\n Ben smiled. \u201cIt keeps them calm at night. The last thing we want is a stampede.\u201d He leant forward and poked at the fire with a stick. \u201cThey have favorite songs, you know?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYour sons?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cNo, the cows. They particularly like Bury Me Not on The Lone Prairie. It sends them to sleep.\u201d<\/p>\n Ben\u2019s face was so straight that Fenimore couldn\u2019t tell if he was being serious or not. He opened his mouth to ask, but then one of the night guards called out that a rider-less horse was approaching. Ben began to rise, but Fenimore arrested his movement with a hand on his shoulder. He called out to the night guard. \u201cIs it a brown horse with white socks, and a look of wanderlust in his eyes?\u201d<\/p>\n Every man in the camp stopped to wait for the reply. A long moment passed but then the guard called back. \u201cUh, yeah, brown with white socks. Not sure about wanderlust, more like a squint.\u201d<\/p>\n Fenimore grinned. \u201cThat\u2019ll be Bertie. I told your boy, Hoss, he\u2019d be back.\u201d He returned to his sketchbook; his attention now fixed on the chuckwagon. \u201cHe always comes back,\u201d he muttered.<\/p>\n Ben shook his head in amusement and lit his pipe for his last smoke of the day.<\/p>\n **********<\/p>\n Fenimore woke the next morning to the smell of woodsmoke and bacon, and a firm hand shaking his shoulder. A black-haired cowboy was crouched by his side. Fenimore yawned and with eyes barely open gazed around him. The sun wasn\u2019t even a burning red scar on the horizon, yet the camp was a stir with men saddling their horses; some were consuming bacon and coffee; others were only partly dressed following a splash at a nearby creek. One young man stood with his arms wide, his torso bare and glistening in the firelight, as he stretched in the cool air. Fenimore pulled his blanket up to his neck. \u201cA bit cold, wouldn\u2019t you say?\u201d His waker twisted to see what Fenimore was looking at. \u2018That\u2019s my brother, Little Joe. He\u2019d sleep to sundown if he could, but a cold splash of water tends to wake him.\u201d He held out his hand. \u201cI\u2019m Adam Cartwright. You met my pa and my brother, Hoss, yesterday. It\u2019s time to get up, we\u2019ll be on the move soon.\u201d<\/p>\n Fenimore threw back his blanket and lumbered to his feet. \u201cDo you think, if it\u2019s not too much of an imposition, that I may stay with you for a few days longer? You are all such wonderful subjects for my artistic endeavors. I feel so marvelously inspired.\u201d<\/p>\n Adam nodded towards his father who had hauled his saddle off the ground and was turning in the direction of the remuda. \u201cYou\u2019ll have to ask the trail boss.\u201d<\/p>\n Fenimore stepped around the fire and, in his haste, tripped over a pile of cooking pots. He backed away with a tirade of angry Chinese sounding in his ears. Ben had stopped on hearing the clamor so Fenimore was able to put forward his request. Ben was hesitant. \u201cIt\u2019s not usual to take passengers along on a cattle drive. The men can be superstitious, they see anything out of the ordinary as an omen.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI promise, sir, I\u2019ll stay out of the way of the herd. It\u2019s more the camp life and the commissary that interest me. And I can pay for food and Bertie\u2019s upkeep. I\u2019m a man of independent means, you see. My time and income is my own.\u201d<\/p>\n Adam passed them with his saddle slung over his shoulder. \u201cAh, why not, Pa. It\u2019ll make a change from the usual campfire conversation about cows, Little Joe\u2019s love life and the condition of Hoss\u2019s big toe.\u201d He walked on with a grin dimpling his face.<\/p>\n Ben narrowed his eyes at Adam with a shake of his head as he turned his attention back to Fenimore.<\/p>\n \u201cThis is a working venture, not a pleasant jaunt from Virginia City to\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI can help your cook. He appears to be a rather busy fellow.\u201d Fenimore\u2019s eyes were wide with hope.<\/p>\n \u201cNow, that<\/em> I would not recommend.\u201d He looked at the man shining with optimism before him, and sighed. \u201cOh alright.\u201d He raised a finger. \u201cBut stay out of Hop Sing\u2019s way, and no bothering the men when they\u2019re working.\u201d<\/p>\n Fenimore clapped his hands together. \u201cOh, thank you, sir, thank you. I promise I\u2019ll be as quiet as a church mouse, I\u2019ll be no trouble, no trouble at all.\u201d<\/p>\n And as Ben watched him gather his items together, he sent a quick prayer upwards that there would be no more unexpected events on this, already eventful, cattle drive.<\/p>\n **********<\/p>\n There was no room on the chuckwagon, not with Hoss seated beside a cantankerous Hop Sing. So Fenimore took his place in the saddle on the adventure-hungry Bertie and rode beside the wagon. Hop Sing\u2019s face wore a permanent frown, his eyes dark with a barely repressed irritability. Hoss chose to ignore him and chatted instead to his new friend who had been firing questions at him all morning.<\/p>\n \u201cSo, my dear Hoss, if you weren\u2019t indisposed at the current time, would you be trailing the way on your trusty steed?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cHuh? Oh, no, that\u2019s Adam\u2019s job. He\u2019s one of the point men along with Sawyer Biggs\u2014he\u2019s our foreman, works real good with Adam. No, sir, I\u2019d be ridin\u2019 about a third of the way down, ridin\u2019 swing. My little brother Joe rides flank so he\u2019s behind me. We keep the contrary critters from wanderin\u2019 off. But because of my foot\u2026\u201d There was a grumble from Hop Sing. \u201cBecause of my foot<\/em>,\u201d he snapped the word, giving Hop Sign a hard look, \u201cJoe\u2019s up in swing, one of the drag riders has moved up to flank, and I guess we\u2019ll stay that way until I can ride again.\u201d<\/p>\n There was a stream of Chinese, and Hoss shifted to face the Chinaman. \u201cBelieve me, I don\u2019t wanna be here anymore than you want me here. But this whole thing could be a whole lot sweeter if you jus\u2019 darn apologized.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cNot Hop Sing fault. You think with stomach. I say I pull \u2018way, you stand next to wagon and try grab last sourdough. Your fault you put foot in front of wheel.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI was hungry! I\u2019d only had two breakfasts that mornin\u2019. How was I gonna last till dinner?\u201d<\/p>\n Hop Sing poked Hoss\u2019s stomach. \u201cYou plenty spare. You no starve.\u201d<\/p>\n Hoss batted the finger away. \u201cHey, stop that.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cGentleman, gentleman.\u201d Fenimore urged his horse ahead so he could be seen by both men. \u201cFrom what I\u2019ve been told Mr. Hop Sing here is almost family to you. Surely you shouldn\u2019t be fighting and can be friends again.\u201d<\/p>\n Hoss and Hop Sing exchanged a look, turned to Fenimore, and together said, \u201cNo!\u201d At which, Mr. St John Ware let his horse fall back, concluding it would make for a more pleasant journey if he put a little distance between himself and the warring duo.<\/p>\n **********<\/p>\n On Fenimore\u2019s second night in the camp, Bertie escaped again.<\/p>\n Fenimore was positioned in his favorite spot, where the light was brightest from the campfire, his eyes scanning the chuckwagon for a new section to sketch, when Joe sat down beside him and asked to see his drawings. Fenimore handed over his sketchbook and watched Joe leaf through the pages.<\/p>\n \u201cI can’t say I know anything about art, but these are good,\u201d said Joe. He turned a page. \u201cThat\u2019s Hop Sing stirring a pot of stew, and, hey, who knew a drawing of a wagon\u2019s wheel could be, well, something you\u2019d wanna look at.\u201d He moved through a few more pages. \u201cHey, that\u2019s me!\u201d He angled the page towards the fire. \u201cHey, Pa, look.\u201d<\/p>\n Ben looked over Joe\u2019s shoulder at the pencil drawing Fenimore had made of Joe, depicting him as he had seen him the previous morning: his torso bare, arms out to the sides, mouth open in a yawn, with his hair tousled from sleep. Ben nodded his head appreciatively. \u201cI\u2019d recognize that belly anywhere,\u201d he said, patting Joe on the shoulder. \u201cIt\u2019s good work, sir, you have a talent.\u201d<\/p>\n Fenimore managed to hide his face, shake his head and blush all at the same time. \u201cJust scribbles, my good sir, mere scribbles.\u201d<\/p>\n There was a shout from the perimeter. \u201cThe Englishman\u2019s horse has slipped his rope and run off.\u201d<\/p>\n Joe thrust the sketchbook into Fenimore\u2019s grasp at the same time as Adam flicked his coffee into the fire and grabbed his hat. Both men rose to their feet. Fenimore held up his hands. \u201cGentleman, gentleman, please don\u2019t trouble yourselves. Bertie loves to explore, he\u2019s a born peregrinator. But he knows the hand that feeds him. He\u2019ll be back. Sit, sit, good sirs.\u201d And waving his hands, Fenimore exhorted his companions to resume their seats, and the evening continued with no further disturbances.<\/p>\n **********<\/p>\n The following afternoon saw the chuckwagon forging ahead of the herd, seeking out the night\u2019s camp site that Ben had located on a foray earlier in the day. Hoss and Hop Sing continued to snipe at each other so Fenimore made a diversion to a nearby rise where he could view the vast herd following in the distance.<\/p>\n In truth, all Fenimore could see was a cloud of dust with tiny riders on the perimeter that, at this distance, reminded him of the painted cavalry figures he played with as a child. A flash of reflecting sun drew his attention to a small figure in red with a black hat. Ah, that would be Mister Adam, he thought, and for a few moments he watched as Adam maneuvered a sprightly chestnut gelding towards the cattle. He watched as the leaders shied away and changed course ever so slightly. A job well done, concluded Fenimore. It was frightfully thrilling to watch. But he couldn\u2019t stay there for too long, so regretfully he turned Bertie around and loped forward to catch up with the chuckwagon. He could hear the two men arguing before he\u2019d even got there.<\/p>\n \u201cWhy you fuss, foot not broke?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019m fussin\u2019 because what with you refusin\u2019 to darn apologize and all, I reckon you done it on purpose, jus\u2019 ta prove ta everyone you was right with your omens and bad luck this and bad luck that.\u201d<\/p>\n Fenimore didn\u2019t hear a reply. But he caught sight of Hop Sing\u2019s face as he drew level with the wagon. Hop Sing was clearly doing everything within his power to stop from exploding but he couldn\u2019t hold it in. \u201cHop Sing know cattle drive important. You think I mean run over foot?\u201d There was a stream of Chinese. \u201cWhen cattle drive over, Hop Sing pack bag, go home to China.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cNow, Hop Sing\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cHop Sing say nothing.\u201d The Chinaman turned to face forward, the conversation was over.<\/p>\n Fenimore drew closer to the wagon. Hoss looked contrite, and at the same time, angry. \u201cMy dear Hoss, how is your foot this morning?\u201d he asked, in an effort to lower the tension.<\/p>\n Hoss looked down at the heavy bandage around his foot. \u201cWell, Mister\u2026er\u2026Fenimore, it feels a whole lot better. The swellin\u2019s gone down and it don\u2019t hurt near as bad.\u201d<\/p>\n Fenimore looked from Hop Sing to Hoss. \u201cMay I suggest we swap places and you take Bertie here.\u201d The horse had been back in the camp that morning. \u201cSee how you get on. I can take your place next to Mr. Hop Sing.\u201d<\/p>\n Hoss looked down at Bertie. \u201cI\u2019m not sure he\u2019d be able to take my weight.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI can assure you he\u2019s stronger than he looks. After all, he is used to carrying all my painting equipment as well as myself.\u201d<\/p>\n Hoss looked at the animal that chose just then to nod its head vigorously and look Hoss straight in the eye. \u201cWell, why not. At least this way I can see whether I can ride, and at the same time get away from ol\u2019 grumpy pants here. Stop the wagon, Hop Sing, I\u2019m gettin\u2019 off.\u201d<\/p>\n The horses came to a halt and Hoss climbed down. He limped to the side of the wagon to retrieve his remaining boot and, leaning against the rear wheel, unwrapped his bandage, wiggled his toes, and pulled his boot on. Trying his weight, he stamped up and down a few times, then grinned.<\/p>\n \u201cHey, it don\u2019t feel too bad.\u201d<\/p>\n He marched over to Fenimore who had dismounted and was waiting by Bertie\u2019s head. Hoss took the reins and heaved himself up. The animal sidestepped and flung its head around to nudge Hoss\u2019s leg, but then settled. Hoss urged him forward, then reined him to one side, and then to the other, and then turned him around to trot back to the wagon.<\/p>\n \u201cMy foot feels fine, and Bertie here handles well. Thanks Mister\u2026 uh, Fenimore, sir.\u201d Hoss leaned down to stroke the horse\u2019s neck. \u201cYou up for being a cuttin\u2019 horse, Bertie?\u201d He touched the rein to the animal\u2019s neck, turning him to face the direction of the herd, but then looked back.<\/p>\n \u201cYou sure about this, Mr. Fenimore?\u201d He nodded at Hop Sing. \u201cWhen he\u2019s like this, he\u2019s one to be avoided at all costs.\u201d<\/p>\n But Fenimore shook his head and seconds later Hoss was gone, riding at speed back along the trail towards the approaching cloud of dust. Fenimore climbed into the wagon seat. \u201cSo, my good man, tell me about China, I hear the Great Wall is well worth a visit.\u201d<\/p>\n **********<\/p>\n The drive relaxed into a settled routine. The men would rise while the moon was still bright, and the air was fresh from the cloudless night. Fenimore had learned early on that the best place to sleep was as far away as possible from Hoss. The man had a snore akin to a herd of buffalo charging across the plains. Upon waking, Hoss could never understand why the nearest man to him woke up in a grump, throwing disgruntled looks in his direction, while he had slept like an innocent.<\/p>\n After a breakfast of bacon, sourdough and coffee, Fenimore would assist Hop Sing with packing up the chuckwagon whilst the cowboys whooped aloud, threw themselves into their saddles and circled the camp several times in a display of exuberant enthusiasm; kicking up the dust before riding en masse to their positions by the herd.<\/p>\n Fenimore and Hop Sing became fast friends. Having ignored Hoss\u2019s warning to avoid the cranky cook at all costs, the Englishman had won Hop Sing over with his limitless questions about Hop Sing\u2019s culinary prowess and the great sights of China. Bertie was consigned to the remuda so Fenimore could sit with Hop Sing, and the two men would chat away for hours on end. By supper time of the second day, Fenimore already had a personal invitation to visit Hop Sing\u2019s kin in China: he was to visit a particular province and go to a certain town, then travel twenty miles upriver, find the village at the end of the gorge, and there he would be feted and celebrated by Hop Sing\u2019s numerous cousins, aunts and uncles. Hop Sing would be sure to write to them and let them know to expect him\u2026at some stage in the next ten to fifteen years.<\/p>\n Hoss and Hop Sing had progressed from verbal spars to giving each other the silent treatment. Their only communication became a series of grunts. After Hoss had queued for his food and received a dollop of feed on his plate, he\u2019d grunt and move away. And as Hop Sing collected the crockery for cleaning, he\u2019d point at the pewter dish by Hoss\u2019s feet and grunt. Until Hoss received the apology he felt was his due, there would be no peace between them.<\/p>\n And every night Bertie would go walkabout. It became such a regular occurrence, no one even announced it anymore. Joe joked Bertie must have found himself a wild mare and was riding off in the night for a secret tryst. But then there came a day when, come morning, Bertie was in the exact same spot he\u2019d been tied the night before. The affair was over, snickered Joe, his lady friend had left him. But after the men had broken their fast and were saddling up their mounts, Bertie was nowhere to be found.<\/p>\n \u201cHe always knows where he wants to be, does Bertie,\u201d chuckled Fenimore.<\/p>\n **********<\/p>\n That same afternoon as the chuckwagon ambled across an increasingly rock-strewn and cinder dry land, Fenimore\u2019s eyes grew heavy as the steady motion of the wagon dulled his senses and he slipped into a dozy head-rolling snooze. But then an abrupt commotion invaded his stupor and his head rocked up. Hop Sing pulled the team to a stop and peered around the side of the wagon. Fenimore mirrored his actions and his eyes widened at the sight that greeted him.<\/p>\n A huge cloud of billowing white dust filled the entire sky, growing larger and denser before his very eyes. Was it one of the famed dust storms he had read about on his voyage over, or a tornado? He\u2019d read about those too. But then, cresting the ridge the chuckwagon had not long traversed, an ever-moving wall of longhorn cattle thundered into view. This was not the ambling herd Fenimore had grown accustomed to, but an angry, rippling, expanding sea of cattle. The chuckwagon began to vibrate, the pots and pans secured within the canvas jingling and jangling as thousands of hooves pounded over the earth.<\/p>\n He spun around in his seat at the same time as Hop Sing. No words needed to be said. Hop Sing slapped the reins across his team\u2019s back and with a cry of \u2018yaaah!\u2019 he urged them into a full gallop. The horses flew. Hop Sing was on the edge of his seat, smacking the reins up and down to make them run as fast as their legs could carry them. Fenimore hung on to the wagon\u2019s bow behind him, one moment looking straight ahead and then behind to the herd that was fast approaching. How was it possible that cows could move at such speed? They were gaining on the wagon!<\/p>\n Riders were streaming up the sides of the herd like ghostly mounted specters, their clothes and horses covered in white dust.<\/p>\n \u201cTurn the herd,\u201d a booming voice cried out. \u201cTurn those critters around!\u201d<\/p>\n The cowboys were charging their horses towards the cattle in a desperate bid to change the herd\u2019s direction. They shouted, waved their hats in the air, slapped them against thighs, fired their weapons, anything to look threatening, to spook the stampeding animals away from them. And then, a movement. The lead beast shifted course, his immediate fellows followed, and then the whole herd began to gradually turn, shying away from the shouting men.<\/p>\n Fenimore cheered but as soon as he did so, the grin faded from his face as he realized the danger had not passed. The herd may no longer be chasing the wagon, but the beasts on the outer edge were in danger of hitting the rear. He twisted back to Hop Sigh. \u2018Faster! You must go faster!\u201d<\/p>\n Hop Sing shouted at his tiring team and slapped the reins down furiously.<\/p>\n The angle between the wagon and the herd was closing, shrinking. The cattle were so close, Fenimore could see the whites of their panicked eyes through the dust.<\/p>\n But then a rider burst out of the dust cloud, galloping at speed along the edge of the herd. Leaning halfway out of the saddle, he was shouting for all he was worth, his free hand waving a black silver-studied hat around his head. It was Adam, riding frantically to reach the gap in time.<\/p>\n He was too late. They hit. The nearest animals crashed into the back of the wagon sending it careering off course.<\/p>\n But then Adam was there, charging between the handful of dazed cows that had collided with the now swerving wagon and the vast herd, his battle cry of \u201cya, ya!\u201d resounding through the air.<\/p>\n Hop Sing chanced a swift look behind him. The wagon was veering from one side to the other, but all he could see was a flood of cows bearing down on them like an enormous wave. He slapped the team\u2019s reins fiercely yet again, and it was though the horses jumped, gaining one last iota of momentum from their so, so weary legs.<\/p>\n The cattle began to swerve away from the obstacle that was now beating a hasty retreat, and away from the rider tormenting them with shouts and waving arms. They kept turning, and before long, the whole herd had circled back on itself.<\/p>\n And only then, when the herd had stopped its pursuit, and he\u2019d put some distance between them, did Hop Sing pull the wagon to a halt at the top of a low-lying ridge. And he breathed for the first time in an age.<\/p>\n **********<\/p>\n Fenimore dragged his eyes away from the cattle, turning in his seat to face out over the exhausted horses. His hand still clung to the wagon bow behind him as he looked at his companion. Hop Sing was slumped in his seat, panting to get his breath back. Fenimore let out a loud exhalation of relief. And as Hop Sing lifted his tired head, Fenimore held out his arm to shake the Chinaman\u2019s hand.<\/p>\n \u201cBravo, my dear fellow, bravo,\u201d he said, as he took Hop Sing\u2019s hand in a firm grip.<\/p>\n They took a moment to sit and let the dust settle around them before climbing to the ground. Hop Sing walked forward to check the horses as Fenimore circled the wagon to see what damage had been inflicted when the cows hit. A rear wheel was hanging at an angle and the wagon had slanted heavily to one side. Hop Sing came to see for himself and dropped to one knee next to the damaged wheel. \u201cHorses alright, cannot say same for wagon.\u201d<\/p>\n Two riders approached, driving their mounts up the gentle slant of the ridge. It was Ben and Hoss.<\/p>\n Fenimore looked behind them to see the vast herd of cows milling in a huge circle, the trail hands keeping them close together. \u201cMagnificent,\u201d he murmured.<\/p>\n Hoss threw himself from his horse, his eyes on one person only. \u201cHop Sing!\u201d<\/p>\n Hop Sing rose to his feet, his face wary. \u201cWheel need fixing.\u201d<\/p>\n Hoss grasped him by the shoulders. \u201cI don\u2019t care about the wheel. I can repair that. But you\u2019re alright? You ain\u2019t hurt none? When I saw them critters hit the wagon, I thought\u2026\u201d His voice trailed off.<\/p>\n Hop Sing\u2019s face softened. \u201cHop Sing no hurt. But you limping again.\u201d<\/p>\n Hoss looked down at his boot. \u201cAw, I reckon my foot\u2019s sore after all that hard ridin\u2019 jus\u2019 then. It still ain\u2019t fully fixed.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI give you special tea, help heal foot.\u201d<\/p>\n Hoss\u2019s cheeks bunched. \u201cThanks, Hop Sing. And I\u2019ll have your wagon fixed up, good as new.\u201d<\/p>\n Fenimore and Ben had listened to the conversation and exchanged a grin; they both knew the quarrel was over as quickly as it had begun.<\/p>\n They walked to where the ridge started its downward slope and observed the gradually slowing herd. Ben frowned and shook his head. \u201cWhat on earth started them off? One moment they were calm, the next, they were stampeding as though the devil himself was on their heels.\u201d<\/p>\n Adam rode up the slope and pulled his mount to a stop. \u201cIt\u2019s all under control, Pa. Those dogies aren\u2019t going anywhere now.\u201d<\/p>\n Fenimore took a step forward. \u201cMr. Adam, I\u2019m almost speechless with admiration. The way you put yourself between the cows and us. You were truly splendid. Such bravery.\u201d He held his hand out, and the two men shook hands.<\/p>\n But then Fenimore\u2019s attention was distracted by the sight of Joe in the distance riding the circuit of the herd. He was leading an unsaddled horse\u2014Fenimore instantly recognized Bertie\u2014and heading in their direction. Fenimore watched with a growing sense of apprehension as Joe grew nearer and came to a halt in front of him.<\/p>\n Fenimore\u2019s heart sank. \u201cOh, my goodness. It wasn\u2019t\u2026tell me it wasn\u2019t\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n Joe handed down the lariat used to rope the animal. \u201cI\u2019m afraid so. He came out of nowhere as we were riding through that narrow draw back there. I was riding drag with Elmer to make sure the last of the cows were through, and then Bertie came barreling down the draw, spooked the tail. That caused jitters in the ones in front. Next we knew panic had spread through the whole herd.\u201d<\/p>\n Ben sighed and looked up at Adam. \u201cHow many did we lose?\u201d<\/p>\n Adam straightened in the saddle. \u201cA handful. A couple of the slower ones at the back, some calves.\u201d<\/p>\n Ben\u2019s sigh grew heavier. \u201cWe\u2019ll be eating well for the next few days.\u201d<\/p>\n Fenimore\u2019s customary smile had been replaced with a look of despair. \u201cMy dear sirs, this was all my fault.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYes, it was.\u201d Ben\u2019s tone was firm, but his expression showed no anger, only resignation.<\/p>\n Fenimore met his gaze and nodded miserably. \u201cIf I\u2019d only kept a better eye on Bertie.\u201d He looked down at his feet. \u201cYou\u2019ve been such marvelous hosts, and this is how I repay you. Someone could have been badly injured, worse.\u201d He threw a quick glance at Hop Sing. \u201cAnd I\u2019ve damaged your wagon. Please, I should pay\u2026\u201d He began to rummage in his pockets.<\/p>\n \u201cFenimore.\u201d Two firm hands locked onto his arms. Fenimore looked up to see Ben gazing down at him, his eyebrows high, his mouth curved in a gentle smile. \u201cI don\u2019t want your money. Your horse caused a stampede, not you.\u201d He glanced over at Bertie. \u201cThis animal has a mind of his own. We\u2019ll make sure he can\u2019t escape tonight, we\u2019ll hobble him\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThere\u2019s no point, Mr. Cartwright. I\u2019ve tried everything, he always gets away.\u201d Fenimore moved to Bertie\u2019s head and ran a hand down his neck. \u201cThere\u2019s nothing for it. I\u2019ll have to leave.\u201d<\/p>\n Several voices spoke at once. \u201cYou don\u2019t have to go.\u201d \u201cHey, it was jus\u2019 a lil\u2019 ol\u2019 stampede\u201d. \u201cHop Sing have more to tell \u2018bout China.\u201d<\/p>\n Fenimore raised his hands. \u201cGentleman, please. I don\u2019t think you can know what your kind entreaties mean to me. You\u2019ve been the best friends a lonesome wanderer could have ever met. But perhaps this was a message from a wiser and higher place; that it\u2019s time I found myself a new landscape to paint.\u201d<\/p>\n Ben took a step forward, \u201cBut we\u2019re so near the end of the drive, another two days and we\u2019ll be at the railhead.\u201d<\/p>\n Bertie suddenly began to nod his head and sidestep. Fenimore had to hang on tight to the rope to keep him in check. By the time he had settled down, the animal was facing towards a distant rocky mountain range.<\/p>\n Fenimore smiled. \u201cIt looks like Bertie has made my decision for me. I go west, my friends.\u201d<\/p>\n He held out his hand to Ben. \u201cI will miss you all.\u201d<\/p>\n Bertie\u2019s tack was retrieved from where it had been stored in the chuckwagon and the accident-causing animal was saddled up. Then, it was time for Fenimore to say his goodbyes.<\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019ll be sure to visit China one day,\u201d he told Hop Sing, \u201cAnd look up all those relatives of yours.\u201d<\/p>\n Turning to Hoss. \u201cLook after that foot of yours.\u201d He chuckled. \u201cYou may have a spare, but it takes two to get about.\u201d<\/p>\n He reached up to shake Joe\u2019s hand with a grin, no words needed to be exchanged.<\/p>\n Adam put a finger to the brim of his hat which Fenimore reciprocated.<\/p>\n Then, with another shake of Ben\u2019s hand, he mounted up and as he turned to wave, Bertie was already moving forward, heading west, towards a new adventure.<\/p>\n Hop Sing sighed. \u201cMister Fen\u2019more gone. I told you cattle drive unlucky.\u201d<\/p>\n **********<\/p>\n Adam slammed the front door behind him with his foot. \u201cI\u2019ve got the mail, Pa,\u201d he called as he strode into the room. Ben looked up from his desk as Adam rounded the corner. \u201cAnd we\u2019ve got a parcel. It\u2019s addressed to all of us.\u201d<\/p>\n Ben stood, taking the large flat package Adam was holding out to him.<\/p>\n \u201cDoes it say who it\u2019s from?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThere\u2019s a return address on the back. It\u2019s from a Mr. F. St. John Ware, Clayford-cum-Craydon, England.\u201d One of Adam\u2019s eyebrows rose to meet his hairline as his lips pursed in amusement.<\/p>\n \u201cFenimore!\u201d Ben moved out from behind his desk. \u201cWhere are those brothers of yours?\u201d He raised his head and roared, \u201cHoss! Joseph!\u201d He turned to Adam. \u201cGo get Hop Sing.\u201d<\/p>\n Joe ran down the stairs, his shirt halfway out his pants. \u201cWhat is it? What\u2019s wrong?\u201d<\/p>\n The front door banged open and Hoss took a step inside, his weapon drawn, and his expression alarmed. At the sight of his pa standing in the room with a parcel in his hands and a smile on his face, he lowered his weapon. \u201cDadburnit, Pa, they probably heard you down in Bottomland.\u201d<\/p>\n Joe tucked his shirt in. \u201cWhat\u2019s all the commotion?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWe\u2019ve had a parcel sent to us.\u201d<\/p>\n Hop Sing followed Adam into the room. \u201cWhy you yell?\u201d<\/p>\n Ben threw him a look and then turned back to Joe. \u201cIt\u2019s from Fenimore St. John Ware.\u201d<\/p>\n Joe\u2019s face lit up with a grin. \u201cHey, the Englishman. What is it?\u201d<\/p>\n Ben\u2019s brows slowly rose as he held up the flat object and stared at his youngest. \u201cWell, I\u2019m guessing it\u2019s a painting.\u201d<\/p>\n Joe looked sheepishly at his brothers as Ben tore into the packaging. A sheet of parchment fluttered to the floor as more wrapping was revealed within. Ben handed the parcel to Adam and picked up the letter.<\/p>\n \u201cMy dear friends,\u201d <\/em>he read out loud, \u201cAs a small token of my sincere appreciation for your splendid hospitality, and by way of apology for the mishap Bertie and myself caused, I have great pleasure in presenting you with this little scribbling I composed on my return to England. I trust you will recognise one or two of the characters I have illustrated.<\/em><\/p>\n \u201cI did, so very much, enjoy the time I spent in your company. If you should ever find yourselves in England, I would hope you would call on me at my home in Clayford-cum-Craydon. It would be an honour to wine and dine you, and have you make use of one of my thoroughbreds to explore my humble estate. Of course, you will have to wait until after my sojourn in China. By the time you read this letter, I expect I will have arrived in Hong Kong where I have been invited to take tea with the Governor.<\/em><\/p>\n \u201cRegretfully, I had to part company with Bertie. I didn\u2019t think it would be fair to subject him to a two-month voyage around the Horn and across the Atlantic, so I sold him to an Irish fellow in San Francisco who was aiming to go prospecting. If anyone can find gold, Bertie can.<\/em><\/p>\n \u201cI remain, dear sirs,<\/em><\/p>\n \u201cYour friend,<\/em><\/p>\n \u201cFenimore St. John Ware, Esq.<\/em><\/p>\n \u201cClayford Castle, England.\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n <\/p>\n Joe leaned over his father\u2019s arm to look at the letter. \u201cClayford Castle! He lives in a castle?\u201d<\/p>\n Adam ignored him. \u201cOpen it up, Pa.\u201d And he handed the parcel back to Ben.<\/p>\n The paper was soon ripped into and discarded on the floor as they all moved behind Ben to gaze in wonder at the painting he held at arm\u2019s length before him.<\/p>\n Hoss broke the silence. \u201cWell, I\u2019ll be. And he called himself an amateur <\/em>artist!\u201d<\/p>\n They were looking at a perfect rendering of their chuckwagon at night. A roaring fire illuminated a scene of several cowboys in assorted poses and undertaking various activities.<\/p>\n \u201cHey, that\u2019s me,\u201d said Joe, pointing at a slender figure about to take a bite from a fork suspended in front of his open mouth, a plate of food balanced in his other hand.<\/p>\n \u201cAnd that\u2019s gotta be me,\u201d said Hoss pointing to a large figure lying asleep with his hat lowered over his face and hands folded across his belly.<\/p>\n But taking pride of place in the foreground and filling a quarter of the painting was Hop Sing. He was pouring coffee into the cup of a figure seated with his back to the artist, and yet looking straight out of the painting at the viewer.<\/p>\n Joe started to move his head up and down and from side to side as he viewed the painting. \u201cHop Sing\u2019s eyes follow you around,\u201d he said, scratching his head. \u201cIt\u2019s spooky.\u201d<\/p>\n Adam looked from the painted Hop Sing to the real Hop Sing and back. \u201cHe\u2019s caught you exactly right. That\u2019s the look you get when everyone\u2019s quiet because they\u2019re enjoying your food.\u201d<\/p>\n Ben nodded. \u201cAdam\u2019s right. You appear, let\u2019s see, content.\u201d<\/p>\n Hop Sing stared at the painting. \u201cIs that what Hop Sing really look like? It different from face in mirror.\u201d<\/p>\n Adam grinned. \u201cThat\u2019s you, alright. I guess how others see us isn\u2019t the same as how we see ourselves.\u201d<\/p>\n Joe took the picture from his father and, extending his arms, held it up high. \u201cSo, where\u2019re we gonna put it? I say we take that one down,\u201d he nodded towards the dark oil painting on the wall by the door, \u201cand put this up instead. Never did like that one. This is far nicer.\u201d<\/p>\n Ben\u2019s brow darkened. \u201cThat painting, young man, used to belong to your great-great-grandfather. It\u2019s a family heirloom.\u201d<\/p>\n Joe\u2019s top lip curled slightly as he looked at it.<\/p>\n Hoss moved away from the huddle of men. \u201cBut, Pa, where can it go?\u201d He pointed at the staircase in the corner of the room. \u201cThe wall along the stairs is filled with, uh, more family heirlooms, then there\u2019s the gun cabinet, the hearth, a window, that ol\u2019 painting of the flowers Joe\u2019s ma brought with \u2018er.\u201d He had been pointing at each place in turn but then turned back to Ben. \u201cThere ain\u2019t any more walls to put it on.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI got an idea,\u201d said Joe, his curls bouncing as he twisted to face his pa. \u201cWe put it in one of the bedrooms. And seeing as how I\u2019m right there, see,\u201d he nudged his shoulder towards the painting, \u201cin the middle of the picture, the most important place…\u201d He turned to Adam. \u201cDidn\u2019t you once say nothing is accidental in a painting; that everything is there to lead the eye to the most, um, meaningful part.\u201d Joe thrust the painting at Hoss who had no choice but to hold it against his chest. \u201cWell I reckon the angles on the chuckwagon, just there, and that bit of Hop Sing\u2019s arm, see, they lead to me. In the middle. The center of the painting.\u201d<\/p>\n He thrust his chin up and puffed up his cheeks.<\/p>\n \u201cI can\u2019t believe you actually remembered something I told you about art,\u201d said Adam.<\/p>\n \u201cWell, what about my room?\u201d said Hoss. \u201cI was the one who found ol\u2019 Fenimore in the desert. And he drew me first, didn\u2019t he?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYou cain\u2019t even see your face! Look!\u201d Joe\u2019s eyes were growing larger and whiter as he argued.<\/p>\n \u201cBoys, boys,\u201d said Ben holding his palms up. He took a breath. \u201cWhat about you?\u201d he said to Adam. \u201cDon\u2019t you have a claim on the painting?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cHeck, Pa, I\u2019m not even in it, unless it\u2019s that figure there.\u201d He leaned in, squinting at a small dark smudge in the distance, recognizable only by the silver-studded hat. \u201cHang it where you like.\u201d And he walked away to his chair, picked up a book and pretended to read.<\/p>\n Ben shook his head lightly and turned back to Hoss and Joe who had started arguing again over whose room Fenimore\u2019s picture should be placed in.<\/p>\n When Hoss released a hand from where it was holding the frame\u2014to poke Joe in the shoulder\u2014and let the painting swing in the other, Ben moved forward to grab it.<\/p>\n \u201cGrown men, arguing like children,\u201d he thundered. \u201cThis was a gift, sent to as a token of friendship, not to make us fall out amongst ourselves.\u201d<\/p>\n Hoss and Joe hung their heads. Ben held up the painting and took a long look at it as his sons exchanged rueful looks. \u201cThere\u2019s only one place this painting is going to go.\u201d He looked at each of his boys in turn. \u201cAnd that is wherever\u2026Hop Sing\u2026chooses to put it.\u201d<\/p>\n He held the painting out to the very surprised cook who took it with careful hands.<\/p>\n \u201cIn my view, this painting was only ever meant for one person, the person who, despite being a total opposite in language, upbringing, culture, didn\u2019t let any of that matter. He allowed Fenimore to penetrate that stubborn, and sometimes contrary, exterior and let him be his friend. Plus,\u201d and Ben smiled, \u201che taught Fenimore everything there is to know about China and Chinese cuisine, whether he wanted to know or not.\u201d<\/p>\n Adam rose slowly to his feet and joined his brothers and pa as they watched Hop Sing stare with wonder at the painting.<\/p>\n \u201cTis great honor to receive such a gift,\u201d he said with glistening eyes. He bowed towards Ben and his boys, and began to move slowly towards the kitchen, never taking his eyes from the painting. But as he reached the kitchen, he paused and looked back.<\/p>\n \u201cPerhaps, not always unlucky to go on cattle drive on fourth day of fourth month,\u201d he said, and as the Cartwrights laughed, he looked back at the painting and was gone.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n The End<\/p>\n Written for the 2019 Ponderosa Paddlewheel Poker Tournament<\/p>\n The suits were:\u00a0 Location of story (clubs); object desired or coveted (diamonds); person to be avoided (hearts); calamity (spades)<\/p>\n The words dealt were:<\/p>\n Apology <\/p>\n
\nPicture
\nHop Sing
\nStampede
\nJoker (free pass)<\/p>\n