"Oh, Hop Sing’s Reverend Uncle very happy to see Hop Sing," the little
man assured his companion, answering the polite question. "Very happy to
meet Mr Adam,
too."
"I was greatly honoured by your invitation," Adam smiled gently at the
man. He knew, if only from various own observations and some points made
by writing
travellers, that he had been treated as a very important person would be.
The Chinese paid a lot of attention to certain forms of behaviour. He hoped
he had acted as
supposed to.
"I hope I didn’t make you feel ashamed of me," he stated, only partly in
a joking manner.
"Oh, no, Mr Adam do very honourable… very like should," Hop Sing assured
him. "Reverend Uncle say Mr Adam do better than white man, almost like Chinese."
Adam had to smile at that.
"I’m complimented."
They rode on in a companionable silence for a while, only the wagon making
some sound.
"I think there’s something wrong… Do you hear it, Hop Sing?", asked Adam
all of a sudden, listening intently. "Like… something… with the wheel?"
***
"Ou," Hop Sing shifted again, trying to free his leg from the restraining
weight of the wagon. "Mr Adam? Mr Adam," he called out to the still form
lying a few steps
away in the snow. He again received no response.
"Ou," shifting helped none, and Hop Sing was forced to stay where he was.
Even in his warm coat he was afraid he’d get cold. The Oldest Son was lying
in the deep
snow, and that was even more dangerous.
***
Hop Sing felt himself grow gradually colder, and was searching for some
solution in his mind, when he noticed something move out of the corner of
his eye.
Adam stopped for a moment, shaking his head gently to clear it, then crawled
further towards the wagon.
"Trapped?", he rasped with effort. He wasn’t very steady even on all fours.
Hop Sing nodded. "Leg trapped, and hurt," he explained. "Mr Adam hurt?"
"You have to kill me to hurt me," mumbled Adam absently, reaching the wagon.
"Think you can pull it out if I lift it?"
"Hop Sing pull leg if Mr Adam lift wagon," agreed the cook carefully. The
Oldest Son wasn’t making himself extremely plain.
"Good," Adam’s tone indicated his full understanding for Hop Sing’s careful
statement, as well as his confusion. "All right – pull."
"Hop Sing free, Mr Adam let go," called the cook. The wagon squeaked, falling
back in the snow.
Adam raised his head to look at the sky for a longer moment.
"We’ve been lying here for a time," he noticed, watching the dark clouds
spinning. He was actually quite certain that they weren’t spinning in reality.
The horses were
away, he noted in the back of his mind, and there was no way to turn the
wagon. What for?, Adam shrugged his shoulders. There was some old shack
in the
woods… they should make it before the storm. No way they could get home.
They’d just crossed the border of the Ponderosa.
"Can you walk, Hop Sing?", he asked, sitting himself in the snow. He should
feel cold, he thought absently.
The little cook probed his leg gently, then pulled himself to his feet.
"Hop Sing can. Go home?"
"That would be some walk," Adam approached him shakily, leaning against
the wagon. "There’s a shack in the forest," he pointed towards the swimming
vision of
the trees. "Not far. We should make it before the storm. Let’s go."
Hop Sing caught Adam’s elbow to steady them both, and not get himself lost,
and they went on.
"How far yet, Mr Adam?", asked Hop Sing with hope after a couple of minutes.
The wind was dangerously whirling the snow around them.
"Close," answered Adam in a strangely unsteady voice. "We’re close. How’s…
your leg doing?"
"Leg hurt, but Hop Sing can walk," answered the cook. "Mr Adam hurt?"
"My own leg’s a bit wobbly," admitted Adam, while deciding which of the
three trees might be the real one. "There’ll be a clearing – it’s there."
Before Hop Sing could ask anything, Adam swayed briefly and fell, measuring
his length in the snow.
"Mr Adam? Mr Adam," the cook quickly knelt and shook the limp figure. Nothing.
With effort, he turned the heavy frame face up; a short examination of the
pupils
revealed a clear case of concussion. Hop Sing began palpating the whole
body of the unconscious man, but before he got to the waist, he heard a faint
voice calling.
"Hop Sing? Hop Sing, where are you?"
Adam turned his head, blinking against the snowflakes falling into his
face. "Hop Sing, where are you?"
The cook rushed to Adam’s head in alarm. "Mr Adam awake, good, but Mr Adam
have – concussion," he recalled the word.
Adam gazed at him, unfocusing, he seemed to be digesting the information.
"Where are we?"
"We go to shack in forest, Mr Adam fall. We in snow," explained Hop Sing
tersely and tensely. There was a possibility that the Oldest Son would get
them both lost
in this condition.
"I know now where we are, I remember," Adam comforted his strained companion.
"Don’t worry, it’s just a few steps away. Uhm… just help me get up, okay?",
he
extended his hand towards Hop Sing. His whole demeanour, the smile, the
cocked head, were indicative of shock. Even if he was hurt, he didn’t feel
it, realised the
little cook.
Hop Sing pulled the larger man to his feet and waited. "Where go?"
Adam looked around slowly, waiting for the waltzing world to stop, or at
least slow down.
"There," he grinned suddenly, and made a couple of wobbly steps, which
led him to a small clearing with a littlest shack on it. He staggered to
the door and stepped
inside, falling there limply on the floor.
"Mr Adam?", he felt Hop Sing’s hands touching him, trying to turn him face
up.
"I’m moving," he muttered, co-operating with his companion’s efforts. "Hop
Sing, I think something’s wrong with my leg. It feels strange when I walk."
He felt something move in his leg under Hop Sing’s hands, and heard the
worried voice of the cook.
"Mr Adam broke leg! Mr Adam should not walk!"
"Come on, Hop Sing, it would hurt me had I broken it," reasoned Adam, propping
himself up on the elbows. "You don’t have to pull me in," he chastised the
man’s
action’s gently, scrambling towards the fireplace on all fours.
"No, no, Mr Adam lie down on bed!", scolded Hop Sing, closing the door
against the increasing wind. Adam looked up at the cot and began climbing
it, then
realised something.
"And where are you going to sleep, Hop Sing? There’s only one bed."
"Mr Adam not fuss, Mr Adam lie down," with effort, Hop Sing lifted Adam’s
legs onto the cot. "And Mr Adam stay on bed!"
With a string of unintelligible Chinese, he turned to search his little
sack.
"You took something from the wagon?" Somehow, it had never occurred to
Adam to take anything. "What did you take?"
"Hop Sing take food," stated the cook briefly. "Storm long, Mr Adam and
Hop Sing hungry."
Adam blinked thoughtfully. "S’pose you’re right," he agreed amicably, feeling
drowsy. "I’ll take a nap meanwhile."
"Oh, no-no!", Hop Sing’s yell startled him out of his sleep.
"What now, Hop Sing?", moaned Adam, unable to keep his eyes open. Why wouldn’t
they leave him be?
"No-no, Mr Adam hurt head, Mr Adam in shock!", Hop Sing rushed to the man’s
side and slapped Adam’s cheeks gently. "Mr Adam sleep – Mr Adam not wake
up!"
"I’m sleepy, Hop Sing," complained Adam. He was, however, sober enough
to understand Hop Sing’s reasoning. " How am I going to stay awake without
Joe’s
chattering?", he smiled unconvincingly. "I’m afraid I’ll fall asleep the
minute I stop talking," he added seriously, a bit more conscious.
"Then Mr Adam talk," stated Hop Sing firmly.
"About…?"
"About anything. About Lil’ Joe."
"Little Joe is not ‘anything’," argued Adam politely, obediently forcing
himself to follow Hop Sing’s order. "Little Joe is just about the cutest
kid I’ve ever seen – a
kid, nevertheless – and just about the most unnerving brat I’ve ever known.
I don’t know what we would do with him if you weren’t there, in fact, he
is like
quicksilver, never sits down for more than fifteen minutes, unless he sleeps…
May I go to sleep now?"
"No, Mr Adam talk. Talk of Lil’ Joe, of Hoss, of Father. Talk."
"Talk, talk, talk," muttered Adam grumblingly. "So, where was I? Oh yes,
he never sits still. I just wish Hoss was in two copies, to keep us both
calm at the same
time. He has so much patience with Joe… You know, when I see them fight,"
Adam chuckled, "oh, a fight that is, Joe jumping around Hoss with his fists
clenched
and a lot of care not to get too close within the reach of Hoss’ arms,
and Hoss swatting his hands away gently so as not to hurt him, as though
he was waving away a
fly pestering him," Adam laughed out at the picture. "And he just patiently
stands there until Joe gets tired, or until Pa comes, I’m not a good solution
when Joe is
angry, you know, Joe is someone special for Pa, I suppose for you too,
huh? I couldn’t love this little brat more than I already do, you know,
he is such a special
kid, I suppose I could learn from him to be more open, huh? Anyway," Adam
sounded as though he were rambling, but his whole strength was just enough
to keep
him talking and awake, not enough for thinking in addition. "Anyway, I’m
glad I have those two, even if I yell at them, at least I have somebody
to yell at, and
somebody to yell at me, and I do love them, it’s just so hard to say that
to them… Hop Sing, I’m cold," he turned to the other man with alarm, sudden
shivers
clenching his jaw. "I feel sick and cold. I think I’ll throw up."
The quick hands of the cook were pulling Adam’s shirt off him.
"Clothes wet, Mr Adam grow cold," explained Hop Sing; he knew the shaking
of the body meant the man was coming out of the shock. "Mr Adam eat hot
soup,
then sleep."
"So I may sleep?", enquired Adam, somewhat slurringly. "Sorry, Hop Sing,
I’m nothing but trouble for you."
"Mr Adam no trouble, Mr Adam save Hop Sing’s leg, Mr Adam injured and need
hot soup. Hop Sing like do hot soup, so what trouble?", chattered the cook.
"Mr
Adam not sleep yet – after soup."
"Okay," Adam seemed more alert, even though shivering. "Nothing hurt me,
I thought there was no damage."
"Shock take pain away," explained Hop Sing. "Shock go away now. Where Mr
Adam hurt?"
Adam thought for a second. "My head is bursting… uhm… that’s it, I think…
no, wait, I think my leg started throbbing a little. Nothing more."
"Leg broken," Hop Sing told him. "Walking make worse."
"Too bad," Adam shook more violently. "Do you think it was a good idea
to strip off my clothes?", he felt a chill on his bared chest.
"What are you doing with my trousers, Hop Sing?", he asked suddenly, alarmed.
"Hop Sing must see leg," explained his companion. "Clothes wet, Mr Adam
cold. Mr Adam take Hop Sing’s jacket, is dried and warmed."
Adam felt himself being wrapped in the warm fabric, and the moist jeans
slipping down his legs.
"Good, boot hold bone," announced Hop Sing. "Mr Adam eat now and then sleep."
"Won’t you take the boots off?", offered Adam from the cot. "You said the
leg was broken."
"Hop Sing must cut boot, or make leg worse. Mr Adam eat soup."
"You’re quick," Adam wondered, seeing a steaming bowl in front of him.
"Can you help me up?", he struggled to achieve a sitting position.
A blanket appeared miraculously around him, and Hop Sing settled himself
behind his back to support him, holding the bowl to Adam’s lips.
"I can feed myself," claimed Adam, but Hop Sing slapped his hands away.
"Mr Adam stay under blanket."
To him it seemed that Adam’s weight was crushing him down, but the Oldest
Son had to stay warm. Besides, Hop Sing found certain pleasure in nursing
this always
strong man.
"Where did you get a blanket from?", wondered Adam briefly, before the
rim of the bowl touched his mouth.
"Mr Adam not talk now, Mr Adam eat."
Adam obediently sipped the soup, inwardly afraid of the implications of
the information Hop Sing gave him; if his leg was broken, and he had walked
it like that…
Maybe Hop Sing could make it home after the blizzard, and get a doctor…
When would the storm end? It sounded rather nasty; however, there were no
windows
in the small shack, and he couldn’t see how bad it was.
The soup made him feel warmer, but also woke up the workers of the quarry
he seemed to have in his head. Shhh, fellows, it’s hard enough with a throbbing
leg, he
thought, more inclined now to believe his leg was broken.
"How is your leg doing, Hop Sing?", he asked, the meal finished. "Did you
take care of that?"
"Just bruise," answered the cook. "Mr Adam not take wagon off – blood not
go down."
Adam nodded carefully in understanding.
"Do you think I could go to sleep for a while? I need some rest before
we set out home."
"Mr Adam not go home with broken leg," Hop Sing shook his head, helping
Adam down. "Wait… storm end," he struggled with the words, "then Hop Sing
go for
help."
"Your leg…", Adam began, but the hand of the other man covered his mouth.
"Mr Adam sleep now. Mr Adam hurt head, hurt leg – must sleep. Hop Sing
fine, Mr Adam not. Hop Sing see good."
"I’m fine," Adam smiled at him. "It’s just a headache. The leg doesn’t
hurt me really."
"Mr Adam not lie," Hop Sing admonished him. "Mr Adam hurt, Hop Sing see.
Mr Adam sleep."
Adam shook his head stubbornly, but his eyelids drooped close heavily.
"Like baby," muttered Hop Sing angrily. "Like little boy."
***
"That’s fine!"
Joe’s sarcastic remark made Hoss roll his eyes. He’d been hearing that
for a good couple of minutes now. So they were confined to the shack until
the storm ended,
so what? Why make such a fuss?
"That’s just fine!"
"Joe, would you stop," Hoss felt he couldn’t last for much longer. "I know
it’s not good, but what can we do else than wait?"
"Would you imagine we go looking for Adam who’s been dallying and suddenly
we get caught in a snowstorm?!"
"Well, that’s what happened," stated Hoss matter-of-factly. "No need to
imagine."
"But… just…", Joe seemed to lack words for how ridiculous their situation
was. "And I’m sure dear brother Adam just sits there in the city and enjoys
another
beer!", he added, if only to let out some steam.
Hoss shook his head, grimacing in thought. "I reckon Hop Sing would be
in a hurry to get home to cook something. He said he would. Even Adam would
listen to
him."
"So what took them!?…"
"Little brother," said Hoss rather emphatically. Joe stood still in one
place for once, the tone unsettling him somewhat. "Little brother, if I knew
that, I wouldn’t be
sitting with an impatient little brother of mine in a shack with no other
company to choose, but I would be doing something concrete to get this oldest
brother of ours
home and snatch Hop Sing away from him. Don’t you think so, little brother?"
"Sorry," Joe’s voice was quieter and more contrite now. The only thing
that stood comparison with an angry Adam was an angry Hoss. And he stood
the
comparison well. "I just don’t seem to adjust. I’d like to know what had
happened."
Hoss sighed and motioned Joe to sit beside him. "So would I, little brother."
After some time Joe shifted uneasily. "You don’t think there was an accident
or anything like that, do you, Hoss?"
"Nah, Adam’s too smart for getting into something when a storm’s coming
on," Hoss dismissed the idea with a flap of his hand. "Besides the brains,
he likes being
comfortable, you know, and that would be far from it."
***
Adam woke to sharp stabs of pain coming from his leg. After a moment, he
remembered what had happened, and twisted on the cot to look around. "Hop
Sing?"
The sudden pain snatched his breath away. "Aaaah," he twisted involuntarily,
grabbing at the blanket.
Hop Sing looked up worriedly from over Adam’s leg. "Not hurt long," he
tried to comfort the pained man. "Hop Sing splint leg, then leg not hurt
much. Mr Adam
not move now."
"Owww," Adam tensed with another shaft of pain cutting through his leg,
then jerked with a sudden spasm of torture. "Damn it!"
Hop Sing shook his head. "Mr Adam move, Mr Adam make worse. Hop Sing tie
Mr Adam next time."
Adam concentrated and thought for a second. "Do that," he agreed. "Either
that, or knock me out somehow." Watching the room spin, he added carefully,
"Preferably gently."
Hop Sing’s thoughtful expression enticed his brain to work for a few more
seconds.
"Before you knock me out, it might be a good idea to… to tie me down. In
case I woke up. I mean, it may take a moment, ‘till I remember what’s going
on. You…
have a rope?"
A hazy thought nudged his brain, that it might be a bit too much to think
and fight the pain at the same time. He readily agreed – but first he had
to react to Hop
Sing’s hand moving from his shoulder to the neck in slow massaging movements.
"Hop Sing?"
"Good idea," repeated the man. "Hop Sing put Mr Adam to sleep, then find
rope."
"How will you put me…?", Adam began asking curiously just before his head
fell limply on the cot.
Hop Sing smiled with satisfaction and set out to find a rope or something
that could replace it.
***
"How long might the storm last, Hoss? It’s mighty boring in here."
"Don’t know, brother. Hopefully it’s over soon, otherwise Pa will throw
a fit for worry."
"Wish we’d taken checkers."
"Nope, little brother, you know as well as I that you’d cheat again."
"Who, me? Hoss, how can you say that? Have I ever cheated on you?"
"YES. And stop this pacing, would you? I’m trying to get myself comfortable,
and you distract me."
"You sound just like Adam."
"At least he doesn’t have you around and can get comfortable. Oh, just
sit down, Joe, maybe it’ll clear up soon."
"You… do think Adam’s comfortable?"
"Sure, little brother. Now stop worrying."
***
His mind jerked back to consciousness with a sudden jolt of pain, then
began sliding back to the darkness; successive stabs of pain pushed it back
up continuously
before it could reach the welcome oblivion. He couldn’t move, he noticed.
"Hop… Sing?…"
"Oh, Mr Adam awake! Mr Adam not move, Hop Sing splint leg."
"I… don’t think I can move."
Adam turned his head gently to look around. His brain cleared somewhat,
and he knew now he was tied to the cot. The pain was coursing up his right
leg, and
apparently up to his forehead, where it broke out pearls of sweat. He closed
the way out for the pain, gritting his teeth, and focused on the ceiling.
It would stop in a
moment, it would stop in a moment…
He felt the blanket adjusted, and a worried face appeared in his sight.
"Mr Adam?"
He smiled at the little cook. "I’m fine, Hop Sing," his voice was slightly
wavering but otherwise strong. "Could I get some water, please?"
A cup appeared by his lips. "Some water now, some soup later."
He drank slowly, realising he needed liquids. He thought he’d sweated out
half of the water in him.
"Mr Adam hurt?"
He tried to shift, then remembered the ties. "Give me a moment, Hop Sing;
I’m just not sure of how I feel yet."
He rested briefly, feeling the ties on his body loosen. When Hop Sing stepped
to the fire, Adam frowned thoughtfully, trying to manoeuvre his hands out
of the
restraints.
"Why are my hands still tied, Hop Sing?"
The little man blinked at him, then gave him a gentle, almost apologetic
smile and bowed. "Mr Adam hurt leg, Mr Adam need lie still. Hop Sing too
little to hold big
Mr Adam still."
"But I’m lying still." Adam gently moved his leg and gritted his teeth
instantly. Ouch.
"Mr Adam have bad dream – Mr Adam not lie still. Hop Sing just make sure."
"Why should I have bad dreams, Hop Sing? I don’t usually dream," argued
Adam, trying to make himself more comfortable without moving his leg too much.
"Leg hurt, Mr Adam not fine," Hop Sing visibly struggled with his English.
"Pain, wound bring dreams, make uneasy, make upset."
Adam thought for a second. Hop Sing had to mean shock; he could get somewhat
feverish. That was probably it.
"You mean I could get feverish from the shock?", he asked to make sure
he understood.
"Oh, yes, little fever from shock," agreed Hop Sing with relief. Oldest
Son knew so many words and could express much in his tongue, more than Hop
Sing – in
English, that is.
"Do you think the blizzard will stop soon?", Adam spoke again, seeking
to take his mind off the leg.
"Hop Sing not know. Storm still outside."
"What are you doing?"
"Warm soup for Mr Adam."
After a spell of silence, Adam asked again:
"How’s your leg doing?"
"Not hurt much, just bruise." Hop Sing tasted the soup, grimaced and stirred
it. "Soup hot in a moment."
"And… how is MY leg doing?"
"Leg hurt?", the little cook instantly sounded worried.
Adam shifted the leg gently. Ouuuch.
"Some. How bad is it?"
"In low leg two bones: thick and thin," Hop Sing sat on his heels, explaining
thoughtfully. "Thick bone fine, thin bone broken. Broken bone stay under
skin. No
blood."
"The thin bone is called fibula," muttered Adam. "How bad did I make it
by walking?"
"Boot hold fine," Hop Sing smiled at him. "Leg rest on thick bone. Thin
bone – fibula move little in leg."
"Did you set it?", Adam shifted. The leg was throbbing, and that made his
head hurt dully.
"Hop Sing not doctor," the man shook his head, smile fading. "Storm stop,
doctor come."
"Maybe it was better to set it?", suggested Adam. "The storm can last for
a good couple of hours, maybe until tomorrow… Do you think you should leave
it like
that? The leg, I mean?"
Hop Sing frowned in thought, stirring the soup slowly. Then he noticed
a breath of steam over it, and he took it to the cot, cooling it slightly.
"Storm long, pain strong – Hop Sing set leg," he said at last.
Being lifted to a sitting position, Adam offered gently, "You use the word
‘if’."
He felt Hop Sing stop for a second. "IF the storm’s long, and the pain’s
strong, you will set my leg."
The man hesitated, then said simply, "Yes."
"I’ll hold you to that," Adam smiled at him.
The warm soup felt good to his stomach, but rather worse to his leg. He
wondered how much more could it hurt.
"I’m rather uncomfortable with my hands tied, Hop Sing," complained Adam
gently. "Does it have to be?"
"Yes," the cook helped him lie down and adjusted the blanket. "Mr Adam
rest."
"Can I sleep?"
"Yes." Hop Sing looked troubled. "Nothing else to give for pain."
Adam smiled at him again comfortingly. "I don’t blame you, Hop Sing. Without
you I would have been in a far worse shape. You do more that I could."
"Hop Sing do what man do for friend," stated the little man, then saddened.
"Man not let friends suffer." He was visibly upset.
"Friend," repeated Adam warmly. "How do you say it in Chinese?" He searched
the man’s face.
"And how do you say ‘my friend’?"
He repeated slowly and closed his eyes. "I’ll remember."
***
"Well," Hoss shifted on the old cot so that it squeaked in the effort of
bearing the big frame. "Looks like we’re in for an uncomfortable hungry
night in here."
"Yeah, and there is just one bed," noticed Joe not too gleefully. He was
younger, smaller and weaker. That solved the problem of which of them might
sleep in more
decent conditions.
"Here, little brother, you take this here cot, and I’ll sleep on the floor,"
decided Hoss. "This tiny thing attempting to look like a bed isn’t too safe
for a man with some
decent muscles. The floor looks so inviting I’d probably land on it soon
anyway."
Joe grinned at him. Oh, goody, he got to sleep on the bed, he got the bed!
"Oh, I don’t know Hoss," he shook his head in mock sincerity. "You think
the floor will survive your weight? I’m sure you’ll be comfortable," he
added quickly.
"Eeer… so let’s prepare to bed now, huh?"
***
Hop Sing shifted and opened his eyes, sensing tension in the air. In a
reflex action, he looked at the cot. The white man’s eyes were open wide,
and he visibly pulled
at his restraints continuously; he rolled his head restlessly. In the faint
glow of the slowly dying fire, Hop Sing could make out the pained line of
the clenched jaws.
The Oldest Son was clearly in pain.
His face was bathed in sweat, pale and drawn, eyes haunted.
"Mr Adam hurt?"
A shaky sigh rustled through gritted teeth. "No."
He responded gratefully to a cool cloth wiping his face. "Feels good…"
"Why Mr Adam not wake Hop Sing?", the little man scolded him. "Mr Adam
hurt."
"I’m fine, Hop Sing," Adam smiled at him. New beads of sweat broke out
on his forehead. "I just couldn’t… sleep…" He took a deeper breath. "Why
wake you?
You need your sleep."
He tugged at the ropes involuntarily and bit back a complaint. "Don’t worry
about me."
Hop Sing stared at him hard, thinking, then changed his tactics.
"Hop Sing awake now," he said. "Mr Adam tell Hop Sing what hurt and how
hurt, and what Mr Adam need. Other way Hop Sing cannot sleep."
He smiled at Adam’s obvious effort to think. "Real logical."
Adam had to smile at that, however bad he would feel.
"Real logical, huh? I really just woke up. I couldn’t fall back asleep."
"Leg hurt?"
"Tolerably under the circumstances," Adam’s smile turned into something
more of a grimace. "If I only could fall asleep, it would be just fine." Talking
was tiresome.
Hop Sing shook his head worriedly. Lying there and thinking of pain was
the last thing an ill man should do.
"Mr Adam want bedtime story?", he suggested, offering him a cup of water.
The man stared at him wide-eyed in surprise, then a shade of a smile shone
palely on his face. "Don’t you think I’m a bit too big a boy for that?"
"Mite too big," Hop Sing broke out in a smile, remembering a phrase Hoss
had used the other day. "Hop Sing make leg comfortable, then talk Mr Adam
to sleep."
He quickly brought some snow from outside. "Storm bad," he remarked upon
closing the door against the wind. "Night cold and dark."
Adam hissed tensely when a load of snow wrapped his leg up, but nodded
gratefully at Hop Sing. "Thanks." The cooler the leg, the calmer.
The smaller man pulled the rough stool to the cot and sat himself comfortably.
"What story Mr Adam want?"
Adam grunted; Hop Sing seemed to have his mind set on telling him a bedtime
story for once.
"One without a snowstorm in it," he requested somewhat dryly.
"Hop Sing tell old Chinese tale, good?"
"Sure." This would be interesting, and different from the ones he knew.
"Good," Hop Sing lit up. "Once… ruler… with daughter live in China. Very
strong and big ruler. Need son, need…", at a loss for an English word, he
helped himself
with the Chinese one for ‘warrior’, "to marry daughter and be ruler next.
But bad people fight ruler…", he helped himself quickly with a short string
of Chinese,
"so…"
The tale went on for some time.
At some point, a quiet voice interrupted the storyteller.
"Hop Sing?", Adam looked up almost apologetically, his eyes twinkling with
the faintest of gentle smiles. "I don’t understand a word you’re saying."
The man stopped, surprised but pondering. This was not so easy.
"Maybe talk about something that you can name in English," offered Adam,
slightly amused. "Something you know from here. A story you heard, or something
you
saw… Anything in English."
Hop Sing frowned in thought. Something in English, and something to distract
the Oldest Son from thinking about the broken leg… Hm…
"Hop Sing tell story of special little boy, and other special boy, and
special father, and special home, good?"
"Specialities solely," Adam smiled. "Go on, you got me curious."
"Hop Sing search work. Not right live with cousins and not work. Hop Sing
go to one door, hear ‘No work.’ Go to other door, hear ‘No Chinese.’ Go
to next
door, and next door, and next door. Then, somebody tell Hop Sing of ranch,
where man live with two boys, and no cook, and no help. Hop Sing go.
"Hop Sing walk and walk to ranch, but storm quicker. No snowstorm," he
added quickly, just to have Adam smile.
"Yours can’t affect me, Hop Sing. Go on."
"Hop Sing come to house when dark and cold, and wet. Then see not house
but shed. Hop Sing hide from rain and wait storm go away.
"When wind and rain go quiet, Hop Sing think go out and find house. Before
Hop Sing go out, door open, and Hop Sing see little boy – surprise Hop Sing.
Little
boy nice, dark hair, big eyes, and littler boy with him."
--- Smaller – muttered Adam. – The surprise was all mine. ---
"Little boy take other boy away and call somebody. Man come to shed. Hop
Sing go out and ask for work. Man not want worker. Not know where Hop Sing
find
work. Hop Sing see man big, strong and tired. Little boy tired too, thin
and proud. Man proud, too. Smaller boy round and curious."
--- Round, that’s a good one. – Adam chuckled. – But… do you really think
I looked proud? ---
"Little boy hold head high. Little boy make like father. Evening soon,
and man let Hop Sing stay in shed for night.
"Hop Sing watch. Man father; little boy listen to father, work hard, care
for smaller boy. Little son oldest son. Smaller boy youngest son. Much love,
much work,
hard work.
"Night come. Little boy finish work by fence, lot of mud, dark, boy slip
again and again; then a wood trap boy’s leg. Hop Sing see from shed, boy
cannot get out.
Father in house, not see, take care of smaller boy, want make supper. Hop
Sing see boy need help."
Adam smiled gently, remembering. It was a muddy and slippery task, indeed.
He had suddenly got his leg stuck between the boards, and couldn’t get it
out. He
knew his father was busy with little Hoss, and expected him to be done
quickly with the fence, so that they could make supper and go to bed. The
danged boards
wouldn’t let go, however, and his leg hurt. Something was wrong with the
ankle, he felt. This would be another problem for his father, he thought
with quiet despair.
Weren’t there enough already? He couldn’t well reach to where his leg was
trapped; he saw little in the evening darkness.
Suddenly, he heard swift steps in the mud, and sensed hands on his trapped
and aching leg. "Hey," he protested weakly. "Who is there?" Just then, his
leg came free,
and somebody pulled him upwards.
"Little boy all muddy," he heard the Chinese man speak to him in a friendly
voice. "Leg twisted. Little boy to bed."
Adam remembered being struck silent by the man’s sudden friendly gesture
and words, and did nothing to stop him. The man carried him to the house
and called his
father.
His Pa was struck numb for a moment, too. The Chinese man bowed, with Adam
in his arms, and repeated about the "little boy muddy" and the twisted ankle.
"Hop Sing wash boy," he offered.
"I’ll manage," Ben was somewhat puzzled by the man’s behaviour, but first
of all he had to get Adam out of the stranger’s arms and have a look at
his leg.
Hop Sing, or at least he gave himself such a name, brought Adam inside
and looked for a tub. "Hop Sing cook water."
"You BOIL water," Adam couldn’t help himself. A glance from his father
silenced him immediately.
The Chinese man turned and smiled at him. "Then Hop Sing boil water."
"I’ll manage," repeated Ben angrily. Adam’s sudden cry startled him to
turn around.
"Hoss, you were told to stay away from knives!"
A knife clattered on the floor, and his little brother put his fingers
in his mouth ashamedly.
"Have you hurt yourself?", Adam asked and jumped from the stool to have
a look. Immediately, he fell with a moan of pain.
"What is it, son?", strong arms lifted him off the floor in a worried hurry.
"Just the ankle, it hurts a bit," Adam explained quickly, trying not to
show the pain he felt. "I’m fine, Pa… I’ll get you all muddy, Pa."
"Oldest Son have Reverend Father busy, then Reverend Father help son wash."
--- ‘Reverend Father’ – I’ll have to tell him that one. ---
"Hop Sing cook supper, when Father wash Oldest Son, then prepare good tea
for Oldest Son. Then…"
--- Why do you call me ‘Oldest Son’? I thought I were just ‘son nr 1’ or
‘Mr Adam’ – you always called me so. ---
--- Oh, Oldest Son special. Take care of youngers in family; HE inherit
all Father ever have. All. ---
--- But we will all have our share, Hop Sing. Don’t be ridiculous. That’s
the way it’s just. ---
--- Ah, yes, this Oldest Son special… ---
--- Hop Sing… - he sighed with annoyance. – But why do you call me so?
---
--- Servant owe respect to any Reverend Father and any Oldest Son. Always.
---
--- You’re not a servant, Hop Sing. You’re a friend, remember? ---
"When supper ready, and tea ready, Hop Sing feed and put smaller boy to
bed, then wait for Reverend Father and Oldest Son to eat, then Oldest Son
get tea.
Father allow Hop Sing to stay in house; he thank Hop Sing for help – but
this difficult, Father very proud man.
"Morning Hop Sing do breakfast, milk cow, bring eggs, make tea for Oldest
Son and give milk to younger son. Father angry – he say no money to pay
Hop Sing –
but Hop Sing want only place to live and something to eat. Hop Sing not
stay as worker, then Hop Sing stay as friend. Father have too much to do with
smaller boy,
and too worried for Oldest Son, Father not quarrel long. Hop Sing stay,
and very happy, younger son very good eater, and house very friendly for Hop
Sing. Very,
very friendly. Hop Sing feel like home."
He affectionately stroked the tanned cheek, over the already visible dark
stubble.
"Like home."
He got up quietly and checked on the Oldest Son’s leg. Snow had partly
melted, but the swelling eased up a bit. The man brought in more snow for
another cold
compress, and tended to the sleeping man’s hands. The skin on the wrists
was rubbed into an angry red, and it was a bit swollen. Hop Sing quickly
tied the man’s
forearms to the cot, freeing the wrists, then dressed those gently with
a clean cloth. Hopefully, The Oldest Son would sleep without fever.
***
The door opened with quite an impetus.
"Anybody there?"
"Well," Hop Sing rested his hands on his hips angrily. "About time you
show up."
Hoss and Joe exchanged stunned glances. This was something Adam could well
say – but Hop Sing?
"Eeeer… we got caught up in the storm," explained Hoss contritely, not
wanting to make Hop Sing upset now that they had found them. He was hoping
for a
breakfast at home. "Seems like the same happened to you."
"We found the wagon," Joe inserted impatiently. "You fine?"
"Hop Sing fine, Mr Adam…"
A low moan from the corner startled the brothers to look at the dark figure
lying on the cot.
It was apparent that if it weren’t for the restricting ropes, Adam would
have fallen off the cot quickly. He moaned again, shifting restlessly, tugging
at the restraints on
his arms, and feebly shifting the left leg against the rope holding his
knees and shins down on the cot.
"… Mr Adam not fine," finished Hop Sing. He moved to gathering what little
there was to take, then turned to the two brothers, still in the door. "Mr
Hoss take Mr
Adam in blanket and on horse, Lil’ Joe help," he ordered. The two moved
on without a word.
The silence didn’t last for long, though.
"Why is he tied, Hop Sing? What happened to him?" Joe was helping Hoss
wrap his brother in another warm blanket, but cast worried looks at the
little man.
"Mr Adam break leg," explained Hop Sing briefly. "Mr Adam big, Hop Sing
little, Hop Sing not hold Mr Adam still."
He nodded his head decisively, as though ending the discussion, and waited
for them to help Adam.
"He has fever," noted Hoss, sending Joe for a third blanket. "Why didn’t
you left him at least in the shirt and trousers?"
"Clothes wet," puffed Hop Sing with annoyance for why they didn’t understand
such a simple thing. "Careful with leg."
Hoss watched with dismay his own trousers soaking slowly with the wet substance
on the cot. "Uh-huh," he stated simply.
"Cold compress," explained Hop Sing. "So much snow, why not use?" He shrugged
his shoulders, worry etched on his round face. "Lil’ Joe get doctor, doctor
set
leg."
"You didn’t set it?", Joe looked at him in surprise, then in concern. "Is
it so bad?"
"Hop Sing no doctor. Mr Adam hurt enough. Nothing for pain. Hop… IF Hop
Sing do bad, Mr Caltlight throw Hop Sing out."
"Nah, he wouldn’t…"
"And if Mr Hoss not get Mr Adam home, Hop Sing throw Mr Hoss out," the
little man ended the discussion flatly. "Mr Caltlight worry, go quick."
"Fine, he’ll be just fine," repeated Paul Martin emphatically. "Let him
rest for a couple of days, and he’ll be a pain in the neck about getting out
of bed." He smiled at
Ben. "He’ll be fine," he repeated.
Ben shook his hand so gratefully that for a moment the doctor was sure
he’d have to set his own arm soon. "I was so worried… And the fever?"
"It’s unlikely to spike. Keep him comfortable, dry and warm. That’s it.
Oh, and Hop Sing," he sought out the little figure by the fireplace, "It was
a good thing to use
the snow for a compress. You surely helped to keep the swelling down, and
made Adam more comfortable as it hurt him somewhat less. Good job."
The little man only bowed. That was what had to be done.
"You’re a good friend," added Paul, as though he was fully aware of all
Hop Sing’s efforts to help Adam. "Adam’s lucky to have you for a friend. They
all are," he
winked. Hop Sing bowed again. Yes, and Mr Hoss’ stomach also lucky.
***
The tiny flame flickered shakily, unaware it was spreading long strings
of light at the whole room. The wind fingered its top again, and the little
flame shied from the
cold touch.
A long, slender finger neared the flame, and hesitatingly halted close
to it. The eyes of the lying man squinted, concentrating on the light. When
it stopped wobbling in
his head, and he could tell the shakiness of it to be real, he turned his
head slightly to look at the rest of the room. The warm light of the little
flame gave it a cosy
feeling of warmth and safety.
The steps stopped by his door, and the wooden frame squeaked softly. A
small figure slipped into the room.
"Mr Adam awake. Mr Adam want something?"
A faint shake of the man’s head answered him.
"Mr Adam sleep long."
Silence reigned for a moment.
"Hop Sing stay with Mr Adam. And morning make best breakfast."
The chest of the lying man heaved with a deep sigh, and the carved lips
smiled with appreciation.
"Hop Sing?"
The little man gazed at the Oldest Son questioningly.
"What I wanted to know… how do you say ‘thank you’ in Chinese?"