Simpleton with a Queue
Hop Sing kept his black eyes lidded and pretended to be unaware even though nothing that happened around him went without notice. There were two pairs of boots circling the chair he was bound to, their owners muttering curses and threats, impatient to conduct their business and escape. They were not happy. They had come to the Ponderosa looking for Mister Ben, meaning to rob him, but Mister Ben was away as were his sons. He had been outside, searching for the perfect chicken to cook for supper when the men had ridden in. At first they had pretended to be friendly, but when they heard the Cartwrights were away, they had struck him over the head and dragged him into the house and bound him to one of the dining room chairs. He had watched them for several minutes and then pretended to lose consciousness.
The Chinese man shifted slightly and moaned, as if fighting to wake. He opened one eye and glanced toward the door. One of the bad men was there. He was a tall blond man with a scar on his face, who walked with a limp. The front door was open a crack and he looked out it. His gun was in his hand.
The lives of those he loved depended on his next action. The bad men did not know, but Mister Adam was due back any time. He had gone to Virginia City to deposit the money these men had come to steal. From what Mister Ben had said that morning, he was sending almost everything he had to the bank. These desperate men would be angry when they found there was nothing left. They might kill Mister Adam.
He had to find a way to warn him.
Hop Sing closed his eyes and thought furious as the dragon. The other man – a short, broad one with black hair and a mustache – seemed to be in charge. As they dragged him into the house he had called him a stupid rail-hopper and chopstick. Words could hurt, but these did not as they only showed the man's ignorance.
An ignorance he hoped he could turn against him.
Hop Sing moaned.
"The chink is waking up," he heard the dark man snarl from behind him.
"Watch him. Make sure he doesn't cry out."
He raised his head and stared at the blond man. "Why you think Hop Sing cry out?"
The blond looked at him. "We didn't exactly shake your hand and say 'hello'."
"You come take Mister Ben's money. You welcome to it," he said, making sure to sound disgusted.
The dark man came around to the front of the chair. "What do you mean, chink?"
"All day long work, work, work. Wash dishes. Wash clothes. Cook food. Clean. Send here. Go there! Get no rest from Cartwrights. Always giving orders!"
"Well, well, what have we here? A dissenter in the ranks?"
"Hop Sing no in Cartwright's ranks. Hop Sing slave!" he groused. "He very happy if you take Cartwright money." He paused dramatically. "Hop Sing help if you take him with you!"
"What would we want a rail splitter along for? To do our laundry?" the dark man snorted.
"You just get Hop Sing away. Have relatives. Go to them."
The blond man left the door and crossed over to the table where he looked down at him. "What can you do for us that we can't do by ourselves? All we gotta do is stand by the door and take the first man that walks through it. Any of those Cartwrights would know the combination to the safe."
Hop Sing shook his head. "All Cartwrights very good with guns. Also will know something is wrong when I not come out to greet them. Hop Sing always greets them. Treated bad if does not ask 'what I do for you'? Smack! Smack!"
The Chinese man held his breath. He was hoping since these two were brutes, that they would believe all other men were as well.
The dark man laughed. "What's a chopstick good for other than to slap around?"
"You need let Hop Sing go out and greet who comes. He lead them in to you. No shooting. No one die that way."
The blond pulled at his chin. His eyes went to his partner. "You think he's telling the truth?"
"Could be," the other man shrugged.
Hop Sing didn't flinch as the man with the scar pointed his pistol at his head. "How do we know we can trust you?"
As a Chinese man in the Wild West, he had had to learn to survive. Sometimes it meant being himself, but most times it meant becoming what others expected of him – a smiling simpleton with a queue.
"Oh, you can trust me. Hop Sing belong to the Cartwrights. Paid money for him like horse. Cannot run away on own since he has no money." He grinned, raised his eyebrows, and nodded stupidly. " You pay Hop Sing small change. He go away. Leave Ponderosa far behind."
The blond man started to respond. A sound outside stopped him. As he whirled toward the door, Hop Sing heard what he had been dreading.
The sound of a horse entering the yard.
"Hurry! Untie Hop Sing! Cartwright know something wrong if not come chop chop!"
The two outlaws looked at each other. There was a hesitation of a moment, and then the blond nodded. "Let him go!" he said in a terse whisper. As Hop Sing rose, the man caught him by the collar. "I'll have my gun trained on your back. You give us away – you're dead!"
The Chinese man nodded. His first step was a stumble, but then he was on his way.
As he left the house behind he found it was indeed Adam Cartwright who had returned.
"Mister Adam!" he shouted as he made his way out the door, bowing and scraping as he went. "Mister Adam, Hop Sing happy to see you. So happy! Apologize that supper is not ready. Please, Mister Adam, forgive!" He dropped to his knees. "Do not hit Hop Sing! We go inside. Set four places."
It took Adam a second, but the hesitation was so brief he thought the two desperados inside would not notice.
"What do you mean, supper's not ready?" Adam growled as he lifted him to his feet and raised his hand, looking for all the world like he would strike him.
"Forgive, forgive! Come inside, Mister Adam. Hop Sing fix drink for you. You feel better."
Taking his lead Adam strode past him. Hop Sing noticed his hand hung near his gun. Charging forward like an angry and irritated man, the eldest Cartwright son shoved the door open, stepped inside, and then swung about. The bad men reacted, fingering their triggers. Adam dropped one with a single shot and then turned to take out the other.
Hop Sing smiled that smile again, but meant it this time.
"So sorry," he said as he dropped the remnants of the porcelain vase he had broken over the dark man's head.
"No split rail this time. Split head."