The
Lo Mein Affair
Part 5: Case Closed
By Kathleen T. Berney
“Little Joe?”
“Y-Yeah, Hop Sing?”
“Do YOU know far Papa had to take Mrs. Li to see the jade statues?” Hop Sing asked. They had long ago switched to speaking Chinese exclusively.
“I’m afraid I don’t remember much about the layout of this house, Hop Sing,” Joe replied. “I’ve only been here twice for a couple of birthday parties when I was just a little kid . . . and that was before MA died.” He fell silent for a moment, thinking. “From what Hop Ling told me on our way out to the Ponderosa, I kinda think it’s not too far, once you get upstairs. Why do you ask?”
“Papa and Mrs. Li have been gone for a very long time,” Hop Sing said, looking anxious. “When you and I came in, after putting the lo mein in the shed . . . this laundry pile was almost to the ceiling. Now it’s barely to my waist, and we’ve got so many SMALL piles spread out over this basement, we’re tripping over them.”
“Joe?” Yin-Ling ventured, her eyes wide with alarm.
“Yes, Yin-Ling?”
“Y-You don’t suppose something’s gone wrong . . . . !?”
“I think it’s a little too soon to tell,” Joe said. “For one thing, even though both of ‘em move well enough for people as old as they are, but they don’t move fast, and if they’ve had to tip-toe around the other servants in this place . . . that’s gonna hold ‘em up even more.”
“I still think they’ve been gone too long,” Hop Sing anxiously insisted.
“I’m worried, too. Little Joe?”
“Yes, Mei Ling?”
“Think, maybe you could go have a look?” Mei-Ling suggested hopefully.
“No,” Hop Sing immediately shook his head. “Bad idea! VERY bad idea!”
“Why?” Mei-Ling demanded.
“If they catch Little Joe, they’re going to find out he’s only a PAINTED Chinese, not a REAL Chinese. If THAT happens, the rest of us are gonna end up in real deep . . . . ”
“You don’t need to say it, Hop Sing,” Joe quickly interjected.
“I WAS gonna say hot water. Real deep hot water,” Hop Sing stated, as he directed a withering glare over in Joe’s general direction.
“Let’s give ‘em a little while longer,” Joe suggested.
The sound of the door, upstairs in the butler’s pantry, slowly creaking open, drew everyone’s attention.
“That’s gotta be them,” Joe whispered to Hop Sing. “I’ll bet they had to hide from someone cleaning upstairs for awhile.”
Hop Sing, looking visibly relieved, began to blot away the beads of sweat dotting his forehead with the end of his sleeve.
Mei-Ling dropped the black silk stockings that she held, one in each hand, into a small pile of dark delicate garments, then ran around to the bottom of the steps. “Papa? Grandmother?!” she called out in English, as her eyes strained to make out the dimmed outlines of the human forms now descending the stairs.
“No, Lady, no Papa.”
Joe Cartwright immediately recognized that slow drawl as belonging to “Tex” Warren, a lazy ne’er do well his father had fired not long ago for incompetence, drinking alcohol on the job and showing up for work drunk, and excessive cruelty toward animals.
“Hey! Take you hands OFF me!” Mei-Ling protested. “You HURT me!”
Hop Sing and Joe Cartwright were half way around to the bottom of the steps before Mei-Ling finished giving voice to her complaint. Yin-Ling followed a scant half dozen steps behind.
“You three . . . you stop-ee right there,” ‘Tex’ ordered. He stood down on the basement floor, surrounded by seven footmen, whose hardened faces might have looked more at home in garments with horizontal stripes, and a number, accessorized with ball and chain, rather than the servants’ livery they wore. ‘Tex’ held Mei-Ling’s forearm in a tight vice-like grip. “No tick-kee, no wash-shee, Folks.”
“Oh, puh-leeeeze!” Yin-Ling muttered under her breath, while sarcastically rolling her eyes heavenward.
“Ok, we take-kee you to old man and old woman,” ‘Tex’ continued, addressing Hop Sing, Joe, and Yin-Ling as he would an exceptionally stupid child. “You come-mee with-ee me . . . or I break-kee this la-dee arm.”
“I’d like to ‘no tick-kee, no wash-shee’ a real good one right where it REALLY hurts,” Yin-Ling growled under her breath in Chinese, drawing a warning glare from her uncle.
Joe quietly grabbed up the canvas laundry bag, containing the extra insurance he had brought from home, and fell in behind Hop Sing, taking care to keep his face averted.
‘Tex’ led the way up the basement stairs, with Mei-Ling clasped firm in his iron grip. One of the footmen followed, carrying a lamp. Yin-Ling, Hop Sing, and Joe came after him, with the remaining footmen bringing up the rear.
“OW! Leggo! You hurting me!” Mei-Ling protested, as ‘Tex’ unceremoniously dragged her up the back stairs to the second floor, where Mister Sutcliff’s study was located.
“Shut-up!” ‘Tex’ growled.
“YOU LEAVE MY MOTHER ALONE!” Yin-Ling yelled, her face contorting with anger.
“If you ladies don’t shut the hell up, I’ll shut you up myself,” ‘Tex’ threatened, waving a tightly balled fist in Mei-Ling’s face for emphasis.
“You so much as lay a finger on either of these women, I’m gonna bust you in the mouth so hard, you’re gonna be picking teeth off the pages of Sears ‘n Roebuck catalogs for real long time,” Joe countered, favoring ‘Tex’ with a murderous glare.
“Cartwright?!” ‘Tex’ murmured, surprised. “That really YOU?”
“In the flesh ‘n twice as ugly!”
“Yeah . . . ugly is right,” ‘Tex’ sneered, favoring Joe with a mirthless smile. “What’re you made up for anyway? It’s ‘way too early for Halloween.”
“Shut-up and take us to your leader,” Joe growled back.
“I don’t know what the hell you’re trying to prove, Cartwright, but you and your coolie friends are in deep up to your necks. You KNOW that, don’tcha?”
“We’ll see,” Joe said evasively.
A few moments later, the group found themselves standing before the closed door to Geoffrey Sutcliff’s study. ‘Tex’ released Mei-Ling with a rude shove that sent her careening into her companions, they stepped up to the door and knocked. The door was opened by Nigel Rothburn.
“I’ve rounded up the others from the basement like you asked, Mister Rothburn,” ‘Tex’ said through clenched teeth.
“Thank you, Alvin,” Nigel said in a condescending tone. That, plus the use of the man’s real name, elicited a derisive snicker from Joe. He, then, turned to the man who had carried the lamp to light their way up the dark stairwell of the back steps. “David, if YOU would be so kind as to escort these ruffians in to join their fellows. The rest of you may return to your work.
“Mister Rothburn, one of these ruffians is Joe Cartwright,” ‘Tex’ said with raised voice, all the while trying to steal a glance at Mister Sutcliff over Nigel’s shoulder.
“Thank you, Alvin, I will be sure to inform Mister Sutcliff. You may return to your work now.” Nigel stood aside to allow David room to herd Hop Sing, Mei-Ling, Yin-Ling, and Joe into the study, then pointedly closed the door in ‘Tex’s’ face, leaving the young man seething.
“Come in, please, and make yourselves comfortable,” Geoffrey said, addressing his reluctant guests. He gestured to the six hard back chairs all lined up facing his desk. Four were empty, the two on the end to Geoffrey Sutcliff’s left, were occupied by Hop Ling and Yin-Kuan. “It would appear that the family who commits a crime together is going to end up serving time together.”
“You can’t have us thrown in jail,” Yin-Ling sputtered angrily.
“Oh yes indeed I can, Young Lady,” Geoffrey replied, “and I WILL, just as soon as one of my men returns with the sheriff.”
“On what charge?” Yin-Ling demanded.
“For openers, there’s breaking and entering,” Geoffrey said. “Add to that attempted theft . . . . ”
“If anyone’s a thief here, Mister Sutcliff, it’s YOU!” Yin-Ling accused, angered now past all sense of reason.
“Me?”
“Yes, YOU! You have the Li family treasure here in your house! My venerable grandfather SAW it.”
“ . . . and I say I DON’T have your family’s treasure here, Miss Li. It’s MY word against that of your grandfather,” Geoffrey said, as a smug, triumphant smile spread slowly across his lips, “and given the fact that he also numbers among the thieves whom I caught red handed in the act of stealing . . . well, let’s just say that there’s no question in MY mind as to who’s going to be believed.
“As for YOU, Young Cartwright, your father is going to be most disappointed when he finds out about this fast crowd you’re running around with,” Geoffrey continued. “I must confess to being somewhat surprised myself, since I had been led to believe that your father is a responsible parent. It would appear that I was quite WRONG, although . . . . ” His lips curved upward, forming a smug, prurient smile. “ . . . his past relations with the mother of your sister, and this tawdry business with the school teacher should certainly have suggested to me otherwise.”
“Alright, Mister Sutcliff, that’s it!” Joe said, his own face darkening with anger. “You can say anything about ME, but when you malign my friends, my pa, and my sister . . . Buster, the kid gloves come off.”
“So the Cartwright lion cub shows his claws. I am so frightened.”
Joe bristled against the condescending scorn he heard in Geoffrey Sutcliff’s tone.
“Your presence here quite frankly surprises me, Cartwright,” Geoffrey continued. He favored Joe with a tight, mirthless smile. “Your father’s apparent horrendous lack of parenting skills not withstanding, he IS nonetheless quite wealthy. I could well understand you committing OTHER crimes perhaps, but not stealing. You have no need to steal.”
“As Miss Li just got through telling you, we’re not here to steal anything, Mister Sutcliff,” Joe said with a wild feral grin. “We’re here to reclaim her family’s property.”
“ . . . and as I myself just got through telling Miss Li, her supposed family treasure is not here,” Geoffrey said, “nor can any of you prove it IS.”
“Miss Li’s grandfather says it IS here,” Joe pressed. “He saw it.”
“I’ve been over this ground before with the laundry man and Mrs. Li. The harsh fact of the matter is, the law is on MY side. As soon as that incompetent excuse for a sheriff arrives, you’re all going to be arrested, then tried and jailed for breaking and entering, and attempted theft. That’s it. Period. End of story.”
“Oohhh, I wouldn’t go counting my jailbirds before they’re hatched if I were you, Mister Sutcliff.”
“Cartwright, this inane cat and mouse game has long ago grown tiresome.”
Joe shrugged with insulting indifference. “Ok. We’ll play a new game,” he said, his hazel eyes shining with eager anticipation. “I call THIS one Cinderella.”
“Cinderella?!”
“Yes, Mister Sutcliff, Cinderella,” Joe replied. “The object of the game is to see whose foot fits this glass slipper.” With that, he drew the pink rhinestone studded, high heeled shoe from the canvas bag he still held in his hands.
Geoffrey Sutcliff blanched upon seeing the shoe in hand.
Hop Sing, his own eyes round as saucers, let out a low whistle. “That some lady shoe,” he murmured softly. “Big enough to fit Mister HOSS!”
“ALMOST big enough to fit Hoss,” Joe said grinning from ear-to-ear. “My big brother’s foot’s a smidge’ too wide in the beam to properly fit into this shoe, and ANYONE can see it’s ‘way too big to fit any of the ladies present.”
“Where did you get that?” Geoffrey demanded, as his ashen gray complexion slowly transformed to an odd purple hue.
“I found it,” Joe replied with all the innocence of an angel.
“WHERE?!”
“I am NOT at liberty to say, Mister Sutcliff,” Joe replied. “Now, where was I?”
“You just said that shoe’s too big to fit my venerable great-grandmother, my mother, or myself,” Yin-Ling adroitly supplied the answer, as she also took great delight in Geoffrey Sutcliff’s discomfiture.
“Thank you, Yin-Ling,” Joe said, favoring her with his most charming smile. “Now this lovely ‘glass slipper’ was obviously custom made. I’ve NEVER seen a lady with a foot THIS large before, so I have to assume the shoe manufacturing companies haven’t either.”
“Mister Cartwright— ” Geoffrey snarled threateningly through clenched teeth.
“Hey! I’ve come up in the world,” Joe quipped as he carefully placed the enormous high heel down on the floor. “I’ve suddenly gone from being a lion cub to Mister Cartwright. Now as I was saying, before being so rudely interrupted . . . . ” he directed a meaningful glare over in the general direction of Geoffrey Sutcliff, “this shoe is definitely too big to fit any lady I know.” Smiling once again, he lifted his leg and eased his own foot into the cavernous shoe. “As you can also plainly see, this shoe’s too big to fit me.”
“Mister Cartwright!”
“How ‘bout YOU, Mister Sutcliff? YOU care to try it on?”
“No,” Geoffrey returned in a voice stone cold.
“Why ever NOT, Mister Sutcliff?”
“I’ve had more than enough of this nonsense,” Geoffrey sputtered angrily.
A discreet knock on the closed door to Geoffrey Sutcliff’s study drew the attention of all present.
“WHO IS IT?” Geoffrey shouted.
“Mister Rothburn, Sir. Sheriff Coffee has just arrived.”
“It’s about damn’ time,” Geoffrey growled. “Rothburn, please show the good sheriff here, to my study.”
“At once, Sir.”
Geoffrey turned and favored Joe with a malicious smile. “Well, Cartwright, I can’t say it’s been a pleasure— ”
“Mister Sutcliff, I’m giving you a choice,” Joe said curtly, all trace of impish amusement gone. “You can either produce the Li family’s jade statues for the sheriff when he comes in, OR I will ask my brother, Hoss, to show this glass slipper’s MATE to Miss Mudgely and Mrs. Kirk, and let THEM know who the rightful owner is. I trust we understand each other?” He smiled.
Another discreet knock on the door drew Geoffrey’s attention from Joe. “Yes, Rothburn?”
“I have Sheriff Coffee with me, Sir.”
“Show him in.”
Nigel Rothburn opened the door, then stood aside to allow Roy Coffee to enter the room.
“I understand ya caught a gang o’ thieves, Mister Sutcliff?” Roy queried, directing looks of surprise at Joe Cartwright, Hop Sing, Hop Ling, and the female members of the Li family.
There was a moment of silence that, to Joe and the others, seemed to stretch into an unbearable eternity.
“I’m terribly sorry, my man must have misunderstood,” Geoffrey said with a grimace so grotesque, it was all Joe could do not to burst out into a fit of his infectious, high pitched giggles. He quickly balled his fist and stuffed it into his mouth, praying that would suffice at least for the short term. “It has come to my attention, Sheriff, that certain works of art, which I purchased in good faith, are in fact stolen goods. Rothburn.”
“Yes, Sir?”
“The jade statues I purchased recently from Mister Meredith . . . you will find them in my bedroom. Please bring them.”
Nigel’s eyes widened slightly in surprise, but he nodded. “Yes, Sir,” he responded with his usual aplomb, then turned heel and left to do as his employer had asked.
“You have THESE good people to thank for bringing the matter to my attention,” Geoffrey continued through clenched teeth.
“Well, Mister Sutcliff, I really appreciate ya makin’ MY job a li’l easier,” Roy said gratefully. He smiled and held out his hand.
“The pleasure is all mine,” Geoffrey lied as he reached out and shook the lawman’s hand.
“You’ll be happy t’ know that Mister Meredith is under arrest ‘n coolin’ his heels in m’ jail,” Roy said. “Seein’ as how he’s admitted his guilt, there won’t be a trial, just a hearin’ t’ determine sentence.”
“That’s good to know,” Geoffrey said with a scowl. “At least I can get my money back.”
“Money?” the sheriff queried.
Geoffrey tried desperately to ignore that deep sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach.
“ . . . there AIN’T any money. Mister Meredith claims y’ never paid him.”
“He WHAT?!”
“He claims y’ never paid him,” Roy said again. “My deputy, Clem, searched him carefully. He found a couple a dollars on ‘im, but that was all.”
“That scoundrel!” Geoffrey growled. “That no-good cheating SCOUNDREL!”
“Now could be his associates somehow cut Mister Meredith outta the deal,” Roy suggested.
“Where are THEY?”
“By THIS time, they’re probably half way t’ Mexico, or where ever they’re headed.”
“Wonderful,” Geoffrey fumed.
“Mister Sutcliff?” It was Nigel Rothburn, carrying the statue of Kuan-Yin. Another footman followed carrying the statues of Chang-O and Hou-Yi. “I have the statues as you have requested.”
“Hand them over to the sheriff,” Geoffrey growled, glaring venomously at the laundry man and his cohorts. If looks could have killed, the man would have been jailed immediately for mass murder.
Joe and Hop Sing merely smiled back and waved.
“Joe, would y’ mind givin’ me a hand with— ” Roy suddenly stopped mid-sentence upon getting a good look at the youngest Cartwright son’s black curls. “What in the ever lovin’ world happened t’ your hair?” the sheriff demanded with a frown.
“Long story, Sheriff Coffee,” Joe said, as he took two of the statues from Roy. He then turned back to Geoffrey. “Oh, uhhh, Mister Sutcliff, you can have your glass slipper, but I’m keeping its mate someplace real safe, y’ know . . . . just in case?”
“Rothburn,” Geoffrey growled, his entire massive frame quaking with impotent fury, “show these good people OUT! NOW!”
By the time Ben, Hoss, and Stacy had reached town, darkness had fallen. The night was clear and warm, though not unpleasantly so. The Big and Little Dippers were easily discernable among the myriad of stars overhead, as was the North Star, and the constellation of Orion. The shops and other places of business were now closed, while the saloons were gearing up for a long night of brisk business.
“Lotta folks out t’night,” Hoss remarked as he, his father, and sister were forced to slow their horses to a walk.
“New burlesque opening tonight at the theater,” Ben replied.
“Can we go some night?” Stacy asked, remembering the time her brother, Joe, had taken her not long after she came to live with her father and brothers on the Ponderosa. All she had remembered was the music and the wonderful costumes, hued in vivid colors, glittering with rhinestones and sequins.
“Sure,” Ben replied, “when I decide you’re old enough.”
Her face fell. “When will THAT be?”
“Ask me that question again when you’re thirty.”
“But, Pa . . . I’ll be so OLD by then!” Stacy protested.
Hoss laughed out loud. Ben found himself chuckling, too, despite his worries about the potential trouble his youngest son might be getting himself into at this very moment.
“No y’ won’t, Li’l Sister,” Hoss said. Though his laughter had begun to subside, the smile remained. “When YOU finally git there, you’re gonna find thirty ain’t so old after all.”
“How do YOU know?” Stacy demanded.
“I OUGHTTA know, seein’ as how I’m gonna be turnin’ thirty next birthday.”
“Come on, let’s cut through this way,” Ben said, turning serious, as they came to one of the numbered streets. “I know this goes all the way down to A Street.”
The Cartwrights turned onto a residential street, largely deserted except for an occasional horse and rider headed down toward the main street. Here they urged their horses to a brisk trot.
“Pa, what’re we gonna do when we git to the Sutcliffs?” Hoss asked, as they rounded the corner onto A Street.
“To be perfectly honest, Hoss . . . I’m not quite sure,” Ben admitted reluctantly.
“Hey, Pa, look!” Stacy pointed to a buckboard turning out of the driveway to one of the big houses a few blocks down A Street on the right side of the road. “That man driving looks like Grandpa.”
“That’s Li’l Brother alright,” Hoss said, with a profound sense of relief. “I think that’s Hop Ling ‘n Mrs. Li riding up in the front seat beside him.”
“Uh . . . oh . . . . ”
“Pa, what is it?” Hoss asked.
“ . . . I think THAT’S Roy Coffee!” Ben said with sinking heart upon seeing a rider on horse back following behind the buckboard. He immediately nudged Buck to a full gallop down the deserted street on an intercept course toward the buckboard and lone rider. Stacy and Hoss followed closely behind on Blaze-Face and Chubb, respectively.
“ ‘Evenin’, Ben . . . Stacy . . . ‘n Hoss,” Roy greeted his friends affably, with a smile.
“Pa?” Joe peered over at his father and siblings in surprise. “Hoss?! Stacy? What’re YOU doing here?”
“I was just about to ask you the same question, Young Man,” Ben said sternly.
“Mister Cartwright, we get back jade statues!” Hop Sing exclaimed with glee, from his place in the back of the buckboard, sandwiched between his sister and niece.
“You WHAT?!” Ben exclaimed, unable to quite believe his ears.
“You heard the man, Pa,” Joe said, grinning from ear to ear. “We got the statues back.”
“Ok, you’ve given me the GOOD news,” Ben said wryly. “Now what’s the BAD news?” He mentally braced himself for the worst.
Roy looked over at Ben with a bewildered frown. “There ain’t no bad news, Ben.”
“No assault and battery charges?” Ben pressed. “No charges of breaking and entering?!”
“Nope,” Roy shook his head. “Hop Ling was here on legitimate business, ‘n he brought along his family t’ help him out. They was asked t’ come in, all nice ‘n legal.”
“Then . . . please don’t misunderstand my next question, Roy, but . . . what’re YOU doing here?” Ben asked.
“One o’ Mister Sutcliff’s men came bustin’ into my office with some wild story ‘bout Mister Sutcliff havin’ caught a gang a thieves that broke into his house, but it was all a big misunderstandin’,” the sheriff replied.
“Oh?” Ben queried, directing a sharp glare toward his son. “Any idea as to WHY Mister Sutcliff’s man misunderstood?”
“None at all, Pa,” Joe replied a beat too quickly, the look on his face a little too wide eyed and innocent. He swallowed nervously and averted his eyes away from his father’s all-knowing glare. “L-Like Sheriff Coffee said we were all asked to come in nice and . . . l-legal.”
“From what I could gather, it SEEMS Mister Sutcliff had no idea he’d bought stolen goods, ‘til this motley crew pointed that fact out to him,” Roy said. The scowl on his face made it clear that he put very little credence in Geoffrey Sutcliff’s allegations. “At any rate, he voluntarily turned all three o’ them statues over t’ me.”
“Voluntarily?!” Ben echoed, incredulous.
“Yep. Since Mister Meredith ‘n Mister Li pleaded guilty t’ the charges o’ robbin’ that stage, I won’t need t’ hold ‘em as evidence. Hop Sing?”
“Yes, Mister Sheriff?”
“Y’ can tell Mrs. Li that she’s free t’ take the statues with her,” Roy said.
Hop Sing eagerly translated. Yin-Kuan smiled, then said a few words in Chinese. “Mister Sheriff, Mrs. Li say thank you. She very, very, VERY grateful.”
“Tell her she’s welcome,” Roy replied. “I’m just glad everything’s turned out all right.”
“ . . . which means no one’s in trouble?” Ben asked.
“Ben, I just told ya this business o’ Mister Sutcliff holdin’ a gang o’ thieves at bay was just a plain ‘n simple misunderstandin’,” Roy said. “No one’s been arrested, leastwise no one HERE— ”
“ . . . and no one’s GOING to be?” Ben snapped out the question, while directing a meaningful glare over toward his youngest son.
“No,” Roy shot right back, with a touch of sarcasm. “Are y’ satisfied NOW, Ben?”
“Yes.” Ben exhaled the breath he had been holding, then raised his eyes to the heavens and breathed a silent prayer of thanks that everything had turned out well, and that no one had been seriously hurt in the process.
“Well, Folks, I need t’ be moseyin’ along,” Roy said. “I’ll be relievin’ Clem at the jail ‘round ten o’clock, an’ I’d like t’ get some supper in me and maybe grab forty winks in the meantime.”
“We need to get home ourselves,” Ben said. “Good night, Roy.”
“Good night.” With that, Roy turned his horse and headed for home.
“Pa?”
“Yes, Joe?”
“I’m real sorry I didn’t make it to the courthouse this afternoon,” Joe humbly apologized. “I honest ‘n truly wanted to be there for you, but— ”
“Apology accepted, Son,” Ben said with a smile, “and considering how THAT came out, it’s actually just as well you didn’t make it.”
“You mean you and Miss Ashcroft—?!”
“No, we DIDN’T get married,” Ben said.
“Really? That’s great, Pa!” Joe declared, grinning from ear-to-ear. “What happened?”
“Li’l Sister here showed up with Mister Meredith right when Judge Faraday asked if anyone knowin’ that this marriage shouldn’t take place, let him speak now or forever hold his peace,” Hoss replied with a big smile.
“You really got that ol’ scalawag to go back with you, Stace?”
“I sure did, Grandpa!” Stacy replied with a big smile of her own. “Fortunately for HIM he saved us both a lot of time and trouble by agreeing to come back on his own.”
“Then all’s well that ends well,” Joe said complacently. “We’ve recovered the jade statues, two of the men responsible for robbing that stage are behind bars, Pa didn’t have to marry Miss Ashcroft after all . . . . ”
“ . . . and Miss Ashcroft is with the man she REALLY loves,” Stacy added.
“Y’ know something, Kid?”
“What, Grandpa?”
“Cartwright and Cartwright, Private Investigators did good solving their first case,” Joe said. “Real good!”
“Yes, we did,” Stacy agreed.
“You mean your first and your LAST case,” Ben said very firmly, “because as of right now this very minute, the firm of Cartwright and Cartwright, Private Investigators is hereby officially OUT of business . . . FOR GOOD.” He glared at Joe first, then at Stacy. “Do I make myself clear?”
“Yes, Sir,” Stacy sighed.
“Clear as glass, Pa,” Joe said.
“Good! Now let’s go home,” Ben said.
Pa?”
“Yes, Joe?”
“I have to take Hop Ling home first,” Joe said, “so we’ll catch up with you at house later.”
“Oh no you DON’T, Joseph Francis Cartwright,” Ben said in a firm tone that brooked no dissension of any kind. “We are ALL going to take Hop Ling home TOGETHER.”
“What’s the matter, Pa? Don’t you trust me?” Joe asked, all wide-eyed innocence, with his mouth turned down just enough.
“Of COURSE I trust ya, Son . . . and right now, I trust ya about as far as I can throw ya,” Ben replied, unmoved.
A loud, shrill whistle brought further conversation to a screeching halt. The Cartwrights, the Lis, Hop Sing, and Hop Ling all looked skyward in the direction from whence the whistling came. They were surprised to see a rocket, glowing a hot bright yellow white, rising up into the night sky, leaving a thin white vapor trail in its wake. Upon rising to its highest point, it hovered for a split second, then exploded into blinding white light, with a deafening roar that spooked the horses, and brought people running out of the houses lining both side of the street.
Hoss regained control over Chubb in the matter of a few minutes, though for him it seemed an eternity. “Pa? Stacy? How’re YOU doin’?” he asked, as he moved in to give Joe a hand with the team hitched to the buckboard.
“I’m ok, Hoss,” Stacy replied immediately.
“Buck’s still a mite skittish, but I’ve got him in hand,” Ben said.
“Hey! Ben! I thought that was you . . . . ”
Ben turned and found himself staring down into the face of his lawyer and good friend, Lucas Milburn. Ellie, Lucas’ youngest daughter, aged twelve, followed close behind. “Good evening, Lucas . . . Ellie.”
“Hello, Mister Cartwright. I hear the wedding between you and Miss Ashcroft is OFF. . . permanently,” Ellie said artlessly.
“Ellie!” Lucas turned and favored his young daughter with a warning glare.
“Oh!” she gasped. Ben could see the child’s face suddenly turning six shades or red, one after the other. “ . . . uuhhh, sorry.”
“It would appear the word is out,” the Cartwright family patriarch observed wryly.
“Yes,” Lucas sighed, “I— ”
“Papa, look!” Ellie cried out in delight, while tugging insistently on the sleeve of Lucas’ smoking jacket.
Lucas and Ben looked up in the direction she was pointing. Another rocket, this one glowing yellow had risen up into the night sky. On the porches and walks surrounding them, people were looking up, and pointing.
“Oh no,” Ben groaned. “STACY . . . JOE . . . HOSS! BRACE YOURSELVES!”
Ben had no sooner shouted that warning to his three children, when the rocket exploded into an enormous chrysanthemum burst that filled the entire sky. Though the sound was only a fraction of the decibel level generated by the first, the Cartwrights’ horses began to snort and paw the ground uneasily. Another yellow dot rose, followed by a red dot, then a blue. These also exploded one after the other, streaming long, glittering tendrils of gold, red, and blue. Ellie Milburn cried out with alarm and buried her face against her father’s chest.
The Cartwrights’ horses began to fidget now, in earnest. As Joe labored to keep a tight rein on the team, Hop Sing leapt out of the buckboard and ran forward to the horse on the driver’s right. This was the more calm, the more easy going of the two. If he could keep him under control, the other might be more easily managed.
“Little Joe, where firework come from?” Hop Ling asked, as he fought to keep himself and Mrs. Li in their seats.
“I dunno . . . . ” Joe replied, his mind focused on the task at hand.
“It looks like they’re comin’ from the Sutcliff place, Mister,” a young boy with a very pronounced Irish accent told Hop Ling as he ran past the buckboard.
Upon hearing the boy’s words, Hop Sing closed his eyes and groaned.
As the Cartwrights labored to regain control of their horses, more people spilled out of the houses, into the street. Two more blue dots rose, followed by another yellow. These also erupted into, fiery chrysanthemum-like blooms that filled the sky over head. Muted, awed ‘ooohhs’ and ‘aahhhs’ could be heard from the people already gathered in the street. More people began to rush out of the houses, joining those already outside.
“Pa, we gotta git outta here,” Hoss said apprehensively. “With them fireworks bringin’ all these people running helter-skelter out in the street . . . ‘n our horses as skittish as they are . . . somebody’s gonna git hurt.”
“I know, Hoss,” Ben murmured as he watched the crowd swell with increasing trepidation. “Stacy . . . Joe . . . . ”
“Yeah, Pa?” Stacy responded, as she, too, darted uneasy glances at the thronging mass of humanity in the street surrounding them.
“I’m listening, Pa,” Joe said curtly, as he and Hop Sing worked to keep the team from bolting.
“Let’s see if we can ease our way ba— ” Ben’s words were drowned in the shrill whistles of three rockets, all yellow-white arcing their way up into the sky, mixing with the screams of the people thronging the street. Each one exploded, one right after the other, in a flash of near blinding white light and a loud roar that frightened horses and humans alike.
Chubb and Blaze-Face reared. Hoss and Stacy struggled valiantly to not
only regain control of their horses, but to keep themselves seated in the
saddle as well. The people standing closest to the Cartwright offspring
mounted on horseback, began to scatter. A young child, aged four, fell headlong
onto the street into the path of Stacy’s horse, when a panicked young woman
bumped her in the course of her own flight. Ben, with heart in mouth, managed
to move Buck between Blaze-Face and the little girl, now screaming frantically
for her mother.
“Oh no!” Yin-Ling whispered, as she watched Ben maneuver his own horse,
frightened and dangerously on edge, between the little girl, and Stacy,
who had just managed to rein in Blaze Face. Although the child was no longer
in immediate danger of being trampled under horse hoof, the feet of panicked
humans, all running in different directions was another matter entirely.
She leapt from the buckboard, and started to push her way through the crowd
to the little girl.
“YIN-LING! COME BACK HERE!” Mei-Ling shouted. She rose and started to climb over the side of the buckboard, as it moved forward in fits and starts under the impetus of frightened horses, just on the edge of bolting.
“Mei-Ling, NO!” Hop Ling reached out to restrain his daughter.
“But, Yin-Ling . . . . ”
“Yin-Ling will be alright,” Hop Ling said, in Chinese. “I need you to help me move Mrs. Li into the back with YOU. The way this buckboard’s jerking around, I’m afraid she’s going to fall.”
Mei-Ling nodded, and turned to help her father and Mrs. Li.
More yellow, red, and blue rockets rose one after the other, after the other, in rapid succession, exploding into glittering fiery chrysanthemums, which in turn, left behind billows of thick, white smoke. The smell of burning gunpowder lay heavy in the air.
Ben noted to his dismay, that the swelling tide had begun moving en masse in the opposite direction he needed to go. “Hoss . . . Stacy, I think we’d better dismount now, and try to move over to the side of the street,” he said tersely.
Hoss and Stacy nodded, and complied. The latter slipped off her jacket the minute both feet were planted solidly on the ground and placed it over blaze-Face’s eyes. Hoss quickly followed suit with his vest.
Ben watched as Hoss and Stacy began the arduous process of elbowing their way through the crowd to the side of the street for a few minutes. Then, satisfied they were on their way to relative safety, he turned and searched the crowd for Joe. He spotted his youngest son less than a minute later. “JOE!”
“YEAH, PA?”
“MOVE OFF THE ROAD!” Ben yelled.
“PA, YIN-LING’S GONE!” Joe shouted back.
“GONE?!” Ben echoed, with alarm. “WHERE?”
“I DON’T KNOW! LAST I SAW, SHE WAS RUNNING TOWARD YOU AND STACY.”
“JOSEPH— ”
“YEAH?”
“WE’LL LOOK FOR YIN-LING LATER, AFTER THINGS SETTLE DOWN,” Ben yelled. “FOR NOW, DO YOUR BEST TO MOVE OFF THE ROAD.”
“HOP SING, YOU GOT THAT?” Joe yelled, as he jumped down from the buckboard.
“HOP SING HEAR. SEE OPENING BEHIND LITTLE JOE.”
Joe quickly made his way toward the horses’ heads, while Hop Sing worked to keep the team still. He grabbed the reins of the other horse.
“Go that way,” Hop Sing said pointing to Joe’s left. “Mister Hoss, Miss Stacy already there.”
“I see ‘em,” Joe said grimly, as he and Hop Sing tugged on the reins with all their might. The horses hesitantly followed. “Hop Sing, can your sister drive a buckboard?”
“Yes.”
“Maybe you’d better ask her to move up to the driver’s seat and hold the reins, in case these guys take a notion to bolt,” Joe said. “It’s all I can do to hang on to ‘em NOW.”
Hop Sing nodded, then shouted Joe’s instructions to Mei-Ling in Chinese.
Mei-Ling shouted back a single syllable response, then moved up.
“It’s raining,” someone in the crowd shouted.
“Hey! It IS raining!”
Joe frowned. “What do they mean it’s raining? It CAN’T be raining. There’s not a cloud in the sky.”
Then, suddenly, there was an enormous explosion that literally rocked the country side. Rockets and bombs flew into the sky all at once, exploding into a grand finale of burning color, blinding light, explosions, and shrill whistles, made all the louder, all the more painful on the ears of horse and human alike by their great numbers.
“THE SUTCLIFFS’ HOUSE IS ON FIRE!” someone shouted.
Several dozen heads turned. Sure enough, billows of thick, white smoke could be seen rising from the vicinity of the Sutcliffs’ backyard. The teeming mass of humanity now became as a strong, powerful current, sweeping inexorably toward the Sutcliff mansion two blocks down. Li Yin-Ling, with the little girl still cradled safely in her arms, tried desperately to fight her way back to the place where she had last known her family to be.
“I want my mommy,” the child said. Though she had long ago cried herself out, she was nonetheless still very frightened.
“Tell you what, Child— ”
“I am NOT a child,” the little girl informed Yin-Ling indignantly. “I am a young LADY. I just had my birthday yesterday.”
“I’m very sorry, I didn’t know,” Yin-Ling said softly. “Since you ARE a young lady now, perhaps you can keep a sharp look out for your mommy, and let me know when you see her.”
“Ok,” the girl agreed, mollified for the moment by Yin-Ling’s apology. “But, maybe we’d better get under something.”
“It’s alright now,” Yin-Ling said. “I think most of the fireworks have already exploded.”
“But, it’s RAINING!”
“Raining?!” Yin-Ling echoed, incredulous. “It CAN’T be raining.”
“Yes it is . . . I just felt it.”
“YIN-LING!”
Relief surged through the young Chinese woman upon hearing the resonant, baritone voice she recognized as belonging to the head of the Cartwright Clan. “HERE, MISTER CARTWRIGHT!” Yin-Ling yelled back and waved vigorously.
Ben, on foot with Buck’s lead very firmly clenched in hand, moved with the surging mob toward Yin-Ling. He saw that she had the young child clasped in her arms, the same child who had nearly been trampled underfoot by a thoroughly panicked Blaze-Face a short while ago.
“Oh, Mister Cartwright, thank heaven!” Yin-Ling murmured, her relief at being reunited with him very evident.
“You all right, Yin-Lin?”
“Yes . . . . ”
“I’M all right, too, Mister Cartwright,” the little girl said very pointedly.
“Yes, I can see that you are,” Ben said, recognizing her as one of Hiram Baker’s daughters. “Hattie?”
“No, I’m ‘Lisabeth,” the girl said with a scowl, “and I want my mommy.”
“We’re going to find your mommy real soon,” Ben promised. “In the meantime, you’ll be safe with us.”
“But, it’s raining,” little Elizabeth whined.
“Raining?!” Ben echoed, incredulous, as he began to steer Yin-Ling over to the side, moving in a diagonal line against the crowd.
“Something’s falling,” Yin-Ling said. “Whatever it is . . . it’s getting heavier.”
“I toldja it’s raining,” Elizabeth said.
Ben frowned. Yin-Ling was right. Something was indeed falling, and growing heavier by the minute. But, whatever it WAS, it certainly wasn’t rain. In the distance, the strident clanging a fire bell could be heard. Within seconds, it was joined by another, then another, then another.
Overhead, one more rocket, a blue one, rose high up into the night sky and burst into an enormous chrysanthemum, amid the dying embers and thick clouds of smoke that remained of what had just gone before.
“JUMP HER LIVELY, BOYS, JUMP HER LIVELY!”
Joe frowned upon hearing the shouted battle cry of the volunteers making up the Virginia City Fire Brigade. As he stood watching, eight men turned onto A Street up ahead, pulling along the pressurized water tank. Another dozen volunteers ran along behind them. People began to move aside, opening a path just large enough for the volunteers to push their way through.
“Hunh!” Joe grunted in mild surprise. “Where’s the fire?”
“The Sutcliff house!” a passer-by paused just long enough to answer his question with eager relish.
Joe glanced down the street toward the Sutcliff mansion and saw for himself the telltale glow of fire.
Meanwhile, Hop Sing paused to study closely the “rain” that had fallen on his exposed hand and the sleeve of his garment. “Oy vey!” he gasped in horror, upon recognizing the true nature of the “precipitation” falling down on all their heads.
“What’s the matter with YOU?” Joe demanded as they finally reached the side of the road a few yards up from his big brother and younger sister.
“Little Joe, what you do?” Hop Sing groaned in dismay.
“Whaddya MEAN what did I do?”
“What you do with match?” Hop Sing pressed, trying hard to keep his voice down.
“WHAT match?”
“Match you light in Sutcliff shed so Hop Sing can see?”
“See what? When?!”
“See when Hop Sing and Little Joe put lo mein crates in shed.”
“Oh! Oh yeah . . . THAT match! I . . . . ” Joe frowned, trying to remember. “I . . . I dunno.”
“Hop Sing know. Little Joe drop match. Match not out.”
Joe paled as the implications of Hop Sing’s words suddenly began to dawn on him. “Hey, wait a minute! You don’t think . . . . ”
Hop Sing nodded.
“How do YOU know, uuhhhh . . . THAT’S what happened?”
“It raining.”
“I know it’s raining,” Joe growled. “Tell me something I DON’T know.”
“Rain NOT rain,” Hop Sing said.
“Whaddya mean not rain?”
“Not rain. Lo mein noodle.”
“Hoo boy!” Joe squeaked. “Hop Sing, you’ve got to promise me you won’t tell Pa about this.”
“Hop Sing promise not say one word to Little Joe papa, if Little Joe not say nothing to HOP SING papa.”
“Deal!” Joe immediately agreed.
“Not say nothing to your papa about WHAT?” an all too familiar sonorous voice demanded.
Joe and Hop Sing both turned with sinking hearts and found themselves looking into the stern faces of Ben and Hop Ling.
“Yeah. What you young puppy not tell papa?” Hop Ling demanded.
Joe and Hop Sing looked at each other and swallowed nervously.
“Joseph? Hop Sing? WHAT did you DO?” Ben pressed, glaring at his son first, then at Hop Sing.
Joe and Hop Sing looked up at their fathers through eyes round with healthy fear and trepidation and forced smiles stretching from ear to ear. “NUH-THING!” both chorused together in unison.
The deepening scowl on Ben and Hop Ling’s faces told their dismayed sons that, at best, they were skeptical.
“Mister Cartwright? Papa?” It was Mei-Ling, still seated in the driver’s seat of the buckboard. Yin-Kuan sat beside her with hands primly folded in her lap. “Venerable Grandmother have something to say.”
All eyes turned expectantly to Yin-Kuan, who spoke a few quiet words in Chinese. Hop Sing’s forced smile relaxed into something more genuine, as wave upon wave of relief washed over him.
“Venerable Grandmother say she grateful for return of statue and of Li family honor,” Mei-Ling adroitly translated. “Mister Cartwright . . . Honorable Papa, she ask you have mercy on Little Joe and Hop Sing.”
“Alright,” Ben sighed wearily. “Mei-Ling, please tell Mrs. Li that Hop Ling and I will do as she asks.”
Mei-Ling nodded, then turned to translate.
“Hop Ling?”
“Yes, Mister Cartwright?”
“Between you and me? If Joe and Hop Sing DID have anything to do with tonight’s fireworks display . . . . ”
“Yes?”
“I don’t really think I wanna know.”
“Perhaps you right, Mister Cartwright. Perhaps you right.” Hop Ling grinned. “For big ugly ‘Merican, you wise man. Very wise man, indeed.”
“Bradley Meredith, do you take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife?” Judge Faraday intoned.
“Yes, I do, Your Honor,” Bradley replied.
“Judith Eleanor Ashcroft, do you take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband?”
“I do, Your Honor,” Judith said. She turned and smiled radiantly over at the man standing beside her, separated by a wall of iron bars. “Indeed, I do.”
“Then by the power and authority vested in me by the State of Nevada, I now pronounce that you are husband and wife,” John Faraday said.
Bradley and Judith turned and locked lips passionately before the judge could even think of giving voice to the words, “ you many now kiss the bride,” amid the raucous cheers and applause from most of the people assembled to witness the vows.
Myra Danvers and Ezekiel Abercromby who had come, ostensibly as school board representatives, held themselves stiffly apart and aloof from the spontaneous eruption of gaiety, while Phineas Talbot, one of the photographers working for The Enterprise, finished setting up his camera. Li-Xing politely applauded the newly wed couple, but other wise seemed preoccupied.
The wedding guests making up the enthusiastic cheering section included the entire Cartwright family, Sheriff Coffee, Deputy Clem Foster, Molly O’Hanlan and her father, Francis; and the editor-in-chief of The Enterprise, a friend of long standing with the Cartwrights. Molly had proudly stood up for her former teacher as maid-of-honor, while Clem served as the best man, and Ben very cheerfully gave the bride away.
Looking over at the pained expression on Xing’s face, Ben remembered the brief conversation he had with Roy, a few moments before Judge Faraday arrived to officiate the exchange of marriage vows between Bradley Meredith and Judith Ashcroft . . . .
“Has ANY of his family come by to see him?” Ben had asked, out of feelings
of pity for the young man.
Roy nodded. “They stopped by early this mornin’ on their way t’ signin’ the marriage contract, or whatever it is they do,” he replied.
“How did it go?” Ben asked. “Were there a lot of hard feelings?” He could hardly blame the family if they did harbor anger and resentment toward the young man, now incarcerated in the Virginia City Jail, for his part in the stage robbery. Had the statues NOT been recovered, the consequences for the rest of the family would have been devastating.
“They’re plenty upset with him,” Roy said, “but, I don’t think they’re gonna hold it against him forever.”
“Oh?”
“When they first came in, he was belligerent . . . like Clem said he was yesterday, when he was brought in,” Roy elaborated. “He started sayin’ things like them statues shouldda been his, how everything was his pa’s fault ‘cause he spent ‘n gambled away the family fortune. After that boy finished up with all his rantin’ ‘n ravin’, his ma steps over t’ the cell, ‘n she tells him how sorry she is for bein’ a poor mother to him.”
“Oh no!” Ben murmured in complete dismay.
“She sure as shootin’ DID. Then she told him she was gonna start makin’ it all up to him, startin’ right now this minute,” Roy continued. “Well, she turned t’ me ‘n asked if I had a paddle.”
“A . . . paddle?!”
Roy nodded. “I told her I wasn’t in t’ habit o’ keepin’ paddles ‘round here, that the closest thing I had was the li’l shovel sittin’ over in t’ pail where I keep coal in the winter. Well, she marches herself right over there ‘n grabs that shovel. THEN she asks t’ be let in the cell.”
“What did you do, Roy?”
“I opened the door ‘n let her go in,” Roy said. “Clem had just come in, so I figured between us, we could handle him, if things got outta hand. Well, that li’l lady marched right in there like she owned t’ place, sat down on the cot . . . pulled that boy right over her knee ‘n warmed his britches but GOOD, using that shovel.” He smiled. “I don’t think that boy’s gonna be sittin’ down any time too soon.”
“Good for Mei-Ling!” Ben declared with a big smile.
“She also told him she loved him and that he’d be welcome t’ come back ‘n be part o’ the family, after he’s done his jail time, but he’d hafta work real hard t’ earn their trust ‘n respect.”
“That’s as it should be, of course,” Ben agreed. “I’m glad to hear the door’s still open . . . . ”
As the cheers, applause, and foot stamping finally began to die away, Sheriff
Coffee, his cheeks flushed an unusual rosy hue, very pointedly cleared his
throat. “Mister ‘n Mrs. Meredith, I, uhhh, think we’ve had just about enough
o’ that kissin’ the bride stuff. After all, we DO have a couple o’ impressionable
young la— ” He halted mid-syllable on catching the ferocious glare on Stacy’s
face. “Excuse me. Young WOMEN . . . present.”
“Good thing you stopped yourself when you did, Sheriff,” Bradley said sardonically. “That Cartwright gal kicks harder than a mule. I’m STILL limping.”
“I toldja once, an’ I’ll tell ya again, Mister Meredith, YOU got off real easy,” Hoss said with a grin.
“If I got off easy, I’d hate to find out what it is to learn the HARD way,” Bradley growled, favoring Stacy with a ferocious glare of his own.
“You just remember that the next time you’re tempted to insult me by that four letter word that starts with ‘L,’ ” Stacy quipped, unimpressed by Bradley Meredith’s fierce visage.
“Mister and Mrs. Meredith, I wish you both all the best,” Ben said with a big, warm smile. He offered his hand to the groom, then turned to kiss the bride.
“Mister Cartwright?”
“Yes, Mister Talbot?”
“If you and Mrs. Meredith could squeeze in a little closer to the groom, I can get all three of you together in the same picture.”
Ben and Judith complied.
“That’s very good,” Phineas said. He took the picture, then removed the exposed frame. “If you folks would be so kind as to hold that pose, I’d like to get another shot . . . in case the first doesn’t turn out.”
“Certainly,” Ben was more than happy to agree.
Phineas took the second picture. “Ok, Folks, you can all relax.”
“You’d best get on back to your dark room and get those pictures developed, Young Fella,” the editor-in-chief of The Enterprise said with a broad grin. He raised the cigar in hand to his lips and inhaled. “I intend to put that photo right smack dab in the middle of the front page of the next edition, which, by the way, goes to bed tonight.”
“I’ll have these pictures developed and printed in plenty of time, Mister Clemens,” Phineas eagerly promised, as he began the painstaking task of packing up his camera.
“Yes, Sir, by the time I get through there won’t be a soul left in Virginia City who doesn’t know that Ben Cartwright and Bradley Meredith are two separate and unique individuals, different as night ‘n day, in spite of their good looks,” Mister Clemens declared with a smile.
“Sam, I don’t know how to thank you,” Ben said gratefully.
“No need to thank me, Ben,” Sam said. “Way I see it, I owe YOU one. After all, if it hadn’t been for you and your boys, why I might NEVER have come by my nom du plume . . . my pen name.”
“I’m much obliged anyway,” Ben said.
“Mrs. Danvers, don’t YOU have something to say to Mister Clemens?” Joe prompted her with a smile.
“Yes, thank you so much for reminding me,” Myra Danvers said stiffly. She turned toward Sam, taking great care to avoid making eye contact with any of the Cartwrights. “Mister Clemens, I have a prepared statement, written by Mister Joseph Cartwright, to express my sentiments regarding this entire DISGRACEFUL affair.” She cast an angry, baleful glare over in the general direction of Bradley and Judith Meredith. “I would like you to print that in the paper, along with your article about Mister Cartwright and Mister Bradley.”
“Well, now, Mrs. Danvers, I don’t know about that,” Sam said, his tone cool, but polite. “I don’t much like to print things in the paper I’ve not read first.”
“Mrs. Danvers, perhaps if you read that statement ALOUD for Mister Clemens, and for the benefit of all here . . . . ?!” Joe said, his eyes dancing with an impish delight not lost on his father, brother, and sister.
“Joseph . . . . ” Ben murmured, directing a warning glare at his youngest son.
“It’s ok, Pa, I promise,” Joe said quickly.
“I don’t know about the rest of YOU, but I for one am very interested in hearing Mrs. Danvers’ statement,” Sam Clemens said. “You may begin when ready, Ma’am.”
“Now just a minute! I haven’t read this yet my— ”
“No arguments, Mrs. Danvers,” Ezekiel Abercromby rudely interrupted her mid-sentence. “Read.”
An exasperated sigh exploded from the very depths of her being. “Alright,” Myra very reluctantly agreed. She raised the paper in hand up to eye level and began to read.
“I, Myra Danvers, want to go on public . . . ” here, she grimaced, “ . . . record as stating how terribly, terribly wrong I was in accusing Mister Benjamin Cartwright of behaving indecently with the former Miss Judith Ashcroft. In so doing, I acted maliciously with intent to harm, and for this, I humbly apologize. Mister Cartwright has, for many years, been an upstanding pillar of this community, as many can attest; his ethics, morality, and behavior above reproach.
“I would also like to offer my most humble and sincere apologies to Miss Stacy Cartwright for any and all emotional distress she suffered as the result of me threatening to wire my cousin, Mrs. Vivian Crawleigh, of Dayton, Ohio, requesting that she come and petition for custody of Miss Cartwright,” Myra continued, wrinkling her nose and grimacing. “At the same time, I acknowledge that Mister Cartwright has proven himself a loving, contentious, responsible parent, who has, through his diligence, turned out a new generation of caring, responsible citizens in his three sons and only daughter.
“I would also like to make it known that I, Myra Danvers, tender my . . . . ” Her eyes went round with shocked horror as she scanned ahead, reading the next few sentences that followed. She gasped. “No! I won’t do it! This was NOT part of the agreement!” she protested, favoring Joe Cartwright with a dark, murderous glare.
“You’ll finish reading that statement as written, Mrs. Danvers, or you’ll go to jail,” Joe countered, returning her fierce glare with one of his own.
“On what charge?”
“Oohh, between Sheriff Coffee and myself . . . I think we can come up with SOMETHING,” John Faraday said.
“ . . . and if THEY can’t, Mrs. Danvers, so help me, I’LL haul your sorry fat ass into court and sue you for every penny you have and then some,” Judith added tersely.
“For WHAT?” Myra demanded imperiously, glaring at the former schoolteacher as she would a hideous, if insignificant, insect.
“Slander,” Judith snapped back without missing a beat. “You intentionally and very publicly besmirched my good name AND Mister Cartwright’s. Every man and woman who attended the last school board meeting bore witness to it.”
“Speaking as a former lawyer and now a judge, Mrs. Danvers, I feel compelled to warn you that Mrs. Meredith has a very strong case,” John added. “A very strong case indeed.”
“Alright,” Myra snarled, ungraciously surrendering to the inevitable. She raised the paper back up to eye level and began again, at the place where she had left off, reading through clenched teeth. “I, Myra Danvers, tender my resignation as member in good standing of the school board, effective immediately. I cite my diminished capacity to contribute to this worthy body in a constructive manner, beneficial to all, as reason. Signed . . . Mrs. Myra . . . Danvers.”
“On behalf of the school board, I ACCEPT your resignation,” Ezekiel Abercromby stated with an emphatic nod of his head.
“ . . . and I’ll be more than happy to print your statement in the paper, Mrs. Danvers,” Sam Clemens said, as he snatched the paper from her hands. “Now, if you folks will excuse me, I have a newspaper to put to bed.” He turned to leave, nearly colliding with Hop Sing’s young nephew, Jimmy Chong.
“Uh oh, please excuse me, Mister Clemens,” Jimmy immediately apologized.
“You’re excused, Young Fella,” Sam said, then smiled. “Next time you’d best watch where you’re going. The NEXT man you bump into may NOT share my non-violent sentiments.”
“Yes, Sir, I promise to be more careful.”
Sam nodded and left.
Jimmy, grinning from ear-to-ear, turned immediately to Ben. “Mister Cartwright, Mrs. Li sends a gift.” He held out the covered basket in his hands.
“Thank you, Jimmy, and please . . . convey my thanks to Mrs. Li as well.”
“I will,” Jimmy promised.
Ben peered inside the basket and broke into a big, happy smile. “Hoss, Joe, Stacy, it looks like we have a match.”
“A match, Pa?” Hoss queried with a perplexed frown.
“A match!” Ben confirmed. “Yin-Ling and Yan-Chou are now officially betrothed.”
The three Cartwright offspring immediately erupted into a second round of raucous cheering.
“The wedding will take place next summer in San Francisco,” Jimmy said. “Mrs. Li also said to tell you that you’re all invited as honored guests.”
“Oh, Pa, can we go?” Stacy begged. “Please?”
Ben looked down at his daughter and smiled. “I think we can see our way clear to going, and maybe working in a nice family vacation at the same time.”
“Hey, Pa . . . . ”
“Yes, Hoss?”
“How’d you know Jimmy had a weddin’ announcement in that basket?”
“If you look inside, you’ll see about a dozen or so dragon and phoenix cakes— ”
“Didja say cakes?” Hoss asked, his eyes lighting up with anticipation.
“Yes, I did,” Ben replied. “According to Chinese tradition, the family of the prospective groom presents the family of the bride-to-be with dragon and phoenix cakes. If the match is approved, the bride’s family passes them out to family and friends as wedding announcements.”
“Ummmm UM! These are right GOOD, Pa!” Hoss declared, as he finished the last of his second one and started munching on the third.
“Hey, Big Brother, save some for the REST of us,” Stacy protested, as she made a grab for the basket.
Joe reached in and grabbed two of the cakes as Hoss lifted the basket out of Stacy’s reach, drawing a threatening glare from his biggest, older brother. “You wanna know something, Pa?”
“What’s that, Joe?”
“This idea of sending out cakes as wedding announcements . . . now that’s one Chinese tradition I COULD go along with.”
The End
December 2002
Revised October 2006