A Warrior's Tears

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ONE

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Crash of thunder.

Flash of lightning

The storm god, Leigong, and his wife Dianmu were busy this night.

Towel in hand, Hop Sing turned to look out the kitchen window that faced onto the yard of the Ponderosa ranch house before walking that way. Outside the wrinkled glass a late autumn storm raged; the heavy rain obscuring all that lay within sight. It seemed to the Asian man that Meiyu, the dragon god of the monsoon, must have tired of China and come to visit this October night. Or, perhaps, Leigong had captured the giant worm and forced it to bear him to the New World upon its winged back. Meiyu – crying out in protest – opened his mouth and a river of water poured from his belly.

In all his years he had never seen so much water.

Another crash, another flash, and still Hop Sing remained beside the window. They were out there somewhere – the men he loved. His family.

The Cartwrights.

For three days now the rain had fallen. The Paiute would call it a 'hard' rain, for it was destructive in nature. It was not healing. It did not bring life, but death.

He feared for Mistah Ben and his sons.

His…sons.

Hop Sing sighed and turned from the window. Staring at the rain would not make it stop and he had work to do. The four men would be hungry upon their arrival since they had no breakfast or lunch. Early that morning there had came a rapping on the door. Outside stood Mistah Ben's foreman. 'Come! You must come!' he cried. 'The river is over its banks and people are dying!'

Within a half-hour, the house was empty save for him.

The Asian man glanced at the colorful shrine near his bedroom door before moving to his work table and placing his hand on the well-worn black book that lay there. He had already asked the ancestors for mercy. Now, he must beg the God of the men he loved for their safe return. Picking up the Holy Bible Mistah Ben had given him not long after he came to work for the rancher, Hop Sing opened it and ran a finger along one thin linen page. As so often happened, the words he stopped on were the ones he needed. He closed his eyes and bowed his head and turned them into a prayer.

"I ask, oh, God of Israel, that when Mistah Cartwright and his sons pass through the waters, you will be with them. Do not let the rivers overflow them, but keep them safe."

Outside the wind rose, rattling the window panes and then fell silent. The rain continued to fall but with less force, as if Meiyu's great belly was all but empty.

It was then he heard several loud, strident voices cry out. Next came the thunder of horses hooves and last, the sound of wagon wheels. A horse snorted. A second shrieked as if afraid.

Hop Sing was afraid.

The Asian man placed the Bible on the table before moving to the kitchen door. He drew a breath against his fear, opened it, and stepped onto the porch. Mist rose from the wet ground, so thick he could not tell who approached. The man wore a rain slicker. His black hat was tipped forward to cover his face. Water ran from the brim as he lifted it to reveal a pair of weary hazel eyes.

When he saw those eyes, he wished he had not.

"Where Mistah Adam's father and brothers?" he asked.

The young man ran a sodden sleeve across his face in a vain attempt to dislodge the water cascading down his cheeks before answering. "Hoss is in the back of the wagon. He's going to need help. Pa and Joe…." He swallowed hard. "Pa and Little Joe are missing."

"Missing?" Hop Sing repeated, as if he did not know the meaning of the word.

"Yes, missing! Are you deaf?" Mistah Adam snapped and instantly regretted it. "I'm sorry, Hop Sing. I…." His body sagged and he leaned against the jamb. "I couldn't do anything! The boat…capsized. I knew it was going over and I couldn't…do…."

One did not touch Mistah Cartwright's number one son without permission. Such permission was rare – almost as rare as the tears mingling with the rain on the young man's cheeks. Hop Sing hesitated and then reached out to place a hand on his shoulder, offering both comfort and support. "Mistah Adam need to change clothes. He shiver and shake." The Asian man looked past the bedraggled figure to the wagon. A half-dozen men were lifting Mistah Hoss out of it. "I get food, drink. Take care of Mistah Hoss, then – "

"No! I can't…." Adam shrugged off his hand. He took a step and staggered. "I have to go back out there. Little Joe and Pa are…."

Hop Sing had not missed the blood that ran down this cherished one's face. Number two son was not the only one who needed help.

"Father want you to take care of self first," he said gently.

Mistah Adam snorted. He touched the jagged cut on his forehead. "I tried to reach them. Something…a log, I think…hit me. Hoss…." He choked. "Hoss fished me out. He went under a couple of times and took in a lot of water. I –"

Number one son paled and stepped aside as the men bearing Mistah Hoss came into the house. Once inside, one broke free to ask, "Where do you want us to take him? Upstairs to his room?"

The young man's heart was with his wounded brother. He did not hear.

"Men put number two son in guestroom downstairs," the Asian man told them. "Easier for Hop Sing to care for there."

The ranch hand glanced at him before turning back to Adam. "That okay, boss?"

"Yes," Adam replied; his eyes still on his brother, "I suppose that makes sense."

Hop Sing opened the door to the spare room. He went directly to the bed and quickly pulled the covers back before stepping aside to allow the men to enter. Like Mistah Adam, Mistah Hoss had many cuts and bruises. His breathing was shallow and his skin was pale as the underbelly of a fish. The Asian man pulled the covers up to the big man's chin so he would not take a chill and turned to leave – only to find he could not. Mistah Adam – his jaw tight and his fists clenched in rage – blocked his way. The young man took a step into the room and then turned sharply and rammed his hand into the wall. Fresh tears sprung to his eyes as blood appeared on his knuckles.

Hop Sing feared the young man would run out of the house and back into the storm. Instead, number one son dropped into a chair.

"I have to go back out there," he announced.

"No one say you have to do anything else," Hop Sing replied. "But first Mistah Adam need to dry off, change clothes –"

"For what possible reason?!" Adam pointed at the window. "You haven't been out there. The rain… It's almost unnatural." He paused to run a hand through his sopping hair, thrusting the black locks away from his face. "The river…. Dear God, the river is so swollen! It's burst its banks and is rushing so fast…." The young man's eyes grew wide with a sight only he could see. "There was this family. Mother. Father. Six kids. Their wagon got caught up in it. Pa took care of the parents. Hoss, Joe, and I, we got most of the kids out, but there was one little girl…a little blonde girl, six, maybe seven years old…. We watched her be swept away. There was nothing we could do. But Joe…." Adam's voice cracked. He almost laughed. "You know Joe. He wouldn't take 'no' for an answer and he dove right in. Hoss and I had our hands full with the others. We couldn't do anything to help him, but Pa..." He looked straight at him. "There was a boat that someone had rescued and tied to a tree. Pa didn't have a chance. We knew it. He knew it, but…."

"Father had to try. He do what he have to do, just like Mistah Adam and brothers."

Adam glanced at his brother, who had not stirred, and then shot to his feet and walked into the great room. Hop Sing followed close behind and found him pacing in front of the fire. At his approach, number one son found the courage to continue his horrific tale.

"Pa made it to Joe and the girl. We…. Hoss and I couldn't believe it!" He licked his lips. "We broke away from the others and went to the edge of the shore to watch. The boat was pretty far downstream by then, but we could see it. We heard Pa shout Joe's name. I saw him bend and reach over the side and then…."

The color drained from Mistah Adam's face and he fell silent.

"And then?" Hop Sing prompted.

Number one son made a sound deep in his throat. "The boat turned over. Pa disappeared."

"That when Mistah Adam go in after father and brother and hurt head?"

Adam sat on the table and hung his hands between his knees. "I think I lost my mind. I don't remember going into the water. All I remember is Hoss catching hold of me and throwing me onto the shore. The children's father told me later that they watched over me while Hoss went back in. He tried to reach them…." Number one son fell silent. When he spoke again, it was with the voice of a lost child. "They're dead. God, Hop Sing, Pa and Little Joe are dead."

He waited a moment. "Does Mistah Adam believe this to be true?"

The young man touched his forehead. "Here! Here, I know it is. But here…." His hand moved to his heart. "No. Here, I can't believe it. I won't!"

"Wise father once tell Hop Sing a man's heart knows the truth even when his mind denies it." He crossed to where Mistah Ben's oldest son sat and saw – for a moment – not the man he was, but the boy he had been; a 'boy' he had cared for half of his life. "Hop Sing know what best. You go change clothes before you go out again. If dry one minute, it one minute better than none. This one fix food for you and more for missing father and brother. Mistah Ben and Little Joe need it when you find them."

Adam looked up, a weary smile curling his lips. "Thank you, Hop Sing. I'll do that – right after I check on Hoss."

As the young man disappeared into the guest room, Hop Sing turned with a heavy heart toward his domain. He would do what he could do. He would gather food and other supplies: herbs, medicines, and rolls of bandages. He would wrap them in oil cloth and place them in Mistah Adam's saddlebags where they would be safe from the rain. Then he would stand and watch, powerless, as Mistah Cartwright's number one son went forth to do battle with the mighty river.

No, that was not right. He was not without power.

Returning to the table, the Asian man picked up the black book with its worn leather cover and opened it once more.

And began to pray.

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To be continued…