Summary:\u00a0 When hop Sing faces a difficult Christmas season, he discovers the true value of time.
\nRating:\u00a0 G\u00a0 1,835 words<\/p>\n
Written for the 2024 Bonanza Brand Advent Calendar<\/p>\n
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Bonanza \u00a0<\/b><\/p>\n No Time<\/b><\/p>\n Two weeks. Just two weeks left until Christmas. It wasn\u2019t enough time. If he had cousins to help him, perhaps. If his father hadn\u2019t just . . . well, there was no time for grief, either. Christmas was coming, getting closer with each passing hour. The Cartwrights and their friends expected the usual lavish Christmas dinner, the home trimmed in festive array, and the annual Christmas party \u2013 oh, the Christmas party. It made his head hurt just thinking about everything that needed to be done.<\/p>\n Get moving, foolish one! Fretting about work to be done \u2014 what would his father say? Certainly, it would have been loud, detailed and . . . magnificent. He\u2019d suffer a hundred scoldings if it meant hearing that dear voice again.<\/p>\n He allowed himself a moment to wipe his eyes before gathering his list and heading to the front door. Little Joe was taking him to Virginia City to pick up supplies. This was no time for foolishment.<\/p>\n XXXXXXXXXX<\/p>\n It had taken too long, far too long to go to town and complete their errands. Hadn\u2019t he planned for this, hadn\u2019t he given his order to the mercantile weeks ago?\u00a0\u00a0Wouldn\u2019t a competent business owner have had the order prepared and ready to be purchased and loaded onto the wagon? Of course! But, not today, when time was precious. Rather than ready and waiting for them, the order still had to be gathered and double checked, the purchases had to be calculated and paid for, and the cargo stacked and tied to the wagon. He\u2019d hoped (although he wouldn\u2019t admit to hoping) that there would be time to visit his cousins before they departed for San Francisco.<\/p>\n \u201cWhy don\u2019t you go see your family?\u201d Little Joe had prodded him.<\/p>\n \u201cNo time. Take too long at mercantile. Too much to do at home.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWe can make time for family, Hop Sing.\u201d<\/p>\n He\u2019d known he was being unreasonable. He\u2019d known Little Joe was being kind. But knowing didn\u2019t stop the sharp words.<\/p>\n \u201cMake time? There is no \u2018make time.\u2019 Only have time we have. Time . . . gone before we know. Time not care if family leave. See cousins in springtime . . . maybe. Who know what may happen.\u201d He\u2019d stopped shouting when he caught sight of Joe\u2019s stricken face. Patting Joe\u2019s arm, he continued in a quieter voice. \u201cToo much to do at home. Christmas is coming.\u201d<\/p>\n XXXXXXXXXX<\/p>\n The wind was howling, breaking upon them in great, icy gusts. There was no time to deal with a storm. He\u2019d lost so much time already.<\/p>\n \u201cHurry! Hurry!\u201d Why couldn\u2019t Little Joe listen to him? The hours it had taken to travel back to the Ponderosa fueled his anxiety. \u201cMust have supplies inside house before storm breaks!\u201d<\/p>\n Couldn\u2019t these men do anything right? No matter, Hop Sing would take charge. He pointed and explained to the Cartwright men where each box should go. He stopped Hoss from peering into the sacks. He poked Adam, who was unharnessing the horses to step aside so he could help Little Joe untie a stubborn knot.<\/p>\n All the time, the wind blew stinging snow into their faces and drowned out his voice no matter how loudly he shouted to be heard. Snow was being blown into the house, through the door Mr. Cartwright was holding open against the blast. The floor would be wet now, filthy from boots tracking inside the warm house. The polished wood would need to be mopped and dried.\u00a0\u00a0Something else to be done when there was already so little time.<\/p>\n At last, Hop Sing had the final boxes out of the wagon, stacked precariously in his arms.\u00a0\u00a0The ground beneath his feet was slick with new snow, and he prodded cautiously with one boot toe to find the corner of the porch. Just a little farther, and he would have everything in the house. Then he would clean the floor, start dinner, polish the good silver, and begin . . .<\/p>\n Preoccupied, he failed to remember that the porch boards were often icy.\u00a0\u00a0When his feet slipped out from under him and the boxes crashed to the ground around him, the back of his head suffered an agonizing blow. He could only surrender to the inky darkness, sighing, \u201cNo time for this.\u201d<\/p>\n XXXXXXXXXX<\/p>\n Pain. Throbbing, nauseating pain. Blood pounded in his ears. Even so, he could hear the low murmur of familiar voices, maybe voices of ancestors? Maybe, Cartwrights? Dead? Not dead? It was hard to tell. Fear and frustration forced a whimper from his throat.<\/p>\n \u201cShhhh, you\u2019re gonna be all right. You took a hard lick to the back of your head. Bled a lot. Head wounds always do. Anyway, I sewed you up.\u201d\u00a0\u00a0Ah, not dead. Hoss\u2019s quiet, cheerful voice steadied him.<\/p>\n \u201cMake big mess, I think.\u201d It was a relief to find he could speak. Still, he didn\u2019t trust trying to open his eyes.<\/p>\n \u201cHad to give Shortshanks somethin\u2019 to do. He took care of it. Don\u2019t you scare the boy again, Hop Sing.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cNot mean to scare.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI wasn\u2019t scared.\u201d\u00a0\u00a0Even with his brains trying to pound through his eye sockets, Hop Sing would recognize his Little Joe\u2019s voice, defensive and watery with tears. Instinctively, he turned his head toward the sound. Big mistake. Nausea no longer merely threatened; instead, it arose and overflowed in excruciating waves.<\/p>\n Through it all, he was cared for. Capable hands held the basin close, ready and produced in the nick of time. Strong arms embraced him, supporting him. Gentle hands wiped his face and mouth, offered him a soothing sip of water.<\/p>\n Finally, he lay back, panting softly, exhausted.<\/p>\n \u201cNow, we\u2019re fixin\u2019 to let you sleep.\u201d Thank you, number two son. \u201cBut, first, I wanna take a listen to your heart.\u201d\u00a0\u00a0Hop Sing\u2019s night shirt was shifted, and he felt the soft touch of the stethoscope against his chest. Such an amazing device \u2013 part of the kit given to Hoss by the religious lady.<\/p>\n \u201cWell, Hoss?\u201d Adam\u2019s voice-he\u2019d been quiet, allowing his brother to take the lead. Hop Sing can hear the curiosity and worry smudging the edges of his words.<\/p>\n \u201cStrong and steady, as always. You go on and rest, Hop Sing. Don\u2019t worry about a thing. At least one of us is gonna be right here next to you.\u00a0\u00a0And . . . try not to move.\u201d<\/p>\n Rest, good idea.\u00a0\u00a0Not moving, even better idea.<\/p>\n XXXXXXXXXX<\/p>\n Healing took a long time. Time enough for the doctor to visit and use his own stethoscope \u2013 listening to Hop Sing\u2019s lungs for signs of illness. Of course, there was nothing to hear. Illness didn\u2019t stand a chance against the Cartwright personal brand of nursing.<\/p>\n True to their words, someone was always close at hand while Hop Sing lay in the big guest bed waiting for the pain to subside. Helpless against the pain and nausea, Hop Sing was forced to rely on his employer for\u00a0everything<\/i>.<\/p>\n Aware of Hop Sing\u2019s sensitivity to sound and bright light, the curtains were always drawn and the lamps turned low. Slamming doors no longer slammed, and rough housing ceased lest it bother the invalid. Broth was spooned into his mouth when he was too weak to manage, and his sick room was relentlessly tidied.\u00a0\u00a0Given nothing to do but lay there and fret, Hop Sing took full advantage of the time to worry.<\/p>\n A few days into his convalescence the boys were out doing other chores, leaving Mr. Cartwright to aid Hop Sing with tending to necessary personal business. Mortifying.<\/p>\n \u201cHop Sing very sorry to be such trouble. Mistah Cartwright have many more important things to do.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cDon\u2019t be silly,\u201d Ben Cartwright took a moment to smooth the coverlet. \u201cI can\u2019t think of a thing.\u201d<\/p>\n Was that so? Perhaps Mr. Cartwright could make use of Hop Sing\u2019s list. \u201cMistah Cartwright, Christmas is coming. Will not wait because of me. Need house clean, decorations, food, the party . . . nothing is done. Only a little time left.\u201d<\/p>\n He couldn\u2019t help himself. He closed his eyes against an onslaught of embarrassing emotion.<\/p>\n \u201cWell, I suppose you have a point.\u00a0\u00a0I\u2019ll talk to the boys.\u201d Hop Sing heard his employer slip out of the room quietly.<\/p>\n If only he had more time. He was just so exhausted. Perhaps tomorrow, he might feel well enough to leave the bed.<\/p>\n XXXXXXXXXX<\/p>\n When Hop Sing finally awoke, he sensed that several hours had passed. Squinting in the quiet gloom of the lamp-lit bedroom, he wondered if he was still dreaming.<\/p>\n \u201cYou sure are good at sleeping,\u201d Joe was sitting in the corner chair, a book casually tossed aside. \u201cWe were sure we were going to wake you up.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWhat have you done?\u201d<\/p>\n It might have been better to ask, \u2018what hadn\u2019t they done.\u2019\u00a0\u00a0The guest bedroom had been transformed.\u00a0\u00a0Pine boughs and strings of dried apple rings and popcorn festooned the windows and framed the doorway.\u00a0\u00a0A small table had appeared adorned with a basket of fruit surrounded by a display of messages and cards wishing him good health and blessings of the season. Wreathes replaced the pictures on the wall. Even the quilt folded at the end of the bed had been swapped for a seasonal red-and-green blanket.<\/p>\n \u201cAs you said, Christmas is coming.\u201d Mistah Ben was all smiles.<\/p>\n \u201cThese things belong in house, for party!\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThe big party can wait for the new year.\u00a0\u00a0I\u2019m sure we\u2019ll all be in much better spirits to enjoy it then. In the meantime, we\u2019ll enjoy a smaller, family-only Christmas right here.\u201d<\/p>\n Every Cartwright stood there, around his bed, beaming with apparent delight at the thought of missing out on their traditional Christmas feast and celebration with friends just so they could spend it there, in this small room. . . with him.<\/p>\n Hop Sing released the breath he hadn\u2019t realized he was holding. A weight on his chest lifted; he felt lighter and more at ease than he\u2019d felt in weeks despite the ever-present pain in his head. It didn\u2019t happen often, but he was at loss for words.\u00a0\u00a0He could only say, \u201cThank you.\u201d<\/p>\n XXXXXXXXXX<\/p>\n Hop Sing was dreaming.\u00a0\u00a0He knew he was dreaming because he knew he wasn\u2019t dead. Yet his father stood in front of him at the foot of the bed in the Cartwright guest bedroom.<\/p>\n \u201cI wanted more time with you,\u201d he told his father. \u201cYou were gone before I knew it.\u201d He watched his father, who\u2019d been painfully crippled with arthritis in the last years of his life, move easily around the room to settle on the edge of the bed.<\/p>\n \u201cIt was enough,\u201d Hop Ling said. \u201cWe only have the time we have. You made good use of it. I am grateful.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cMy cousins have left me\u201d Perhaps he pouted, just a little. Surprisingly, his father laughed merrily at the complaint.<\/p>\n \u201cIt doesn\u2019t look as if your cousins are necessary. Enough foolishment, son. Enjoy your family time this Christmas.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWait! Will I see you again?\u201d\u00a0\u00a0Before Hop Sing\u2019s eyes, the specter of his father began to fade.<\/p>\n \u201cYou may be sure.\u201d<\/p>\n XXXXXXXXXX Merry Christmas XXXXXXXXXX<\/span><\/p>\n Link to Day 9 of the Bonanza Brand Advent Calendar – A Catalogue of Memories<\/a> by Questfan<\/p>\n
\n~*~*~ Advent Calendar ~*~*~
\n* Day 8 *<\/span><\/p>\n