Date: Fri, 19 Oct 2007 00:27:34 -0700
From: Jon Hold <jonhold@earthlink.net>
Subject: Other Little House 26

Chapter 26
The Saloon


Brent and I walked down the street towards Murphy's Saloon. Looking
through the shop windows and returning the greetings of the people we
passed, I realized that Anderson was really a nice little town. Everyone
seemed very nice and it sounded like they actually meant it when they
wished us a "Good Day". There were several horses tied up outside of
Murphy's and the entrance was guarded by double swinging louvered
half-doors. Inside was an expanse of sawdust covered wood flooring, brass
lamps, green felt covered gambling tables, a long bar with a couple of
big mirrors and a painting of a reclining naked lady. A real old-west
saloon (of course, it wasn't old-west then, it was pretty darn modern).
As we walked up to the bar I looked more closely at the painting. By
Golly, it was Maggie! Looking good too!

"Murphy!" called out Brent. The bartender had been bent over putting away
clean glasses behind the bar. I looked him over as he turned to face us
across the bar. The man was a real bruiser. Head shaved to prevent hair
grabbing and a face that met more than one fist nose first. He laid two
gnarled and broken knuckled fists on the bar as he looked me up and down
and then smiled at Brent. "How's it going boy? You stop by for a real
drink?"

Brent laughed and shook his head. "You never give up, do you, Murph?"
Murphy just grinned. "Murph, I'd like to introduce Jason to you. He'll be
living with me out at my place."

The burly bartender looked back at me and nodded. "Howdy, Jason. Welcome
to Anderson and Murphy's Place."

I nodded back and replied, "Hello, Mr. Murphy. This is a really nice
place you have."

"It's just 'Murphy', boy. 'Murph' if I decide I like you."

I grinned at him and said, staring at his big fists, "I sure hope you
like me Mr... er... Murphy. I don't think it would be very healthy if you
disliked me."

A gravely laugh was followed by a wink. "'Got yourself a bright boy
there, Brent. Now, what can I get you?"

"Three of your famous root beers, Murph. And would you tell the Chink
that we want lunch? Oleg's boy, Sam, will be joining us for eats."

Murphy bent his thumb towards the back of the bar and said, "grab a table
and I'll bring your sissy drinks over to ya."

I was a little upset with Brent, but followed him over to a big round
table up against the wall and sat down. I started to say something to him
once we sat down, but Mr. Murphy come over with three big mugs full of
foaming cloudy-brown liquid that he set down in front of us. As he turned
to leave a Chinaman wearing a Chinese skullcap, jacket and trousers came
up and bowed to us. Ignoring Brent, I nodded to him and, in my best
Mandarin, greeted him, "Hello, Honorable. Will you be preparing food for
us this day?"

The man straightened up in surprise and answered, in Shanghai dialect
Cantonese, "Greetings, Honorable Young Sir. This miserable servant will
be honored to bring you the poor efforts of his worthless wife."

Switching to Shanghai dialect, I answered him, "I am not a lord that you
should grovel to, merely a hungry traveler who has not tasted the wonders
of Mother China in many days. Would your honored wife perhaps care to
prepare a simple meal for me and two friends?"

Staring at my fluent use of his mother tongue, the stocky man bowed. "My
miserable wife will be greatly pleased to prepare a real meal instead of
the offal these round-eyes consume. And it will be my pleasure to serve
it to the honored young linguist."

Grinning, we bowed to each other and he headed off to the back of the
saloon. Turning, I saw Brent, mouth hanging open. Harshly, I said to
Brent, "The Chinese are good people, Brent. They saved my life when I was
very young and raised me when none of the good white people would take in
a whorehouse boy. I don't like it when you call them 'Chinks'. It
degrades you more than it does them."

Blinking, Brent stammered, "I... I... Well, I never heard them called
nuthing else. What should I call them?"

"Chinaman, or Chinese. Or, if you'd ever bothered to introduce yourself,
he would have told you that his name is Mr. Sing Hop.

Our first fight was suddenly interrupted by a loud voice, "Well, it looks
like the queer found himself a pretty boy!"

A very large man, followed by three younger, but nearly as large men
moved to surround the table. Brent started to rise to face the older man,
but the younger guy behind him slugged him in the back of the neck from
behind and he fell face forward onto the table and slid off onto the
floor. I swiveled in my chair and, without rising took out the man
standing next to me with a flat palm strike to his groin. He folded and
fell backwards. Rising from the chair, I spun up into the air and took
out the next man with a flying kick that plowed my heel into the side of
his head. He slammed into the floor before I landed, crouched, only to
rise with a four-finger strike  under the older man's sternum, stopping
his heart and causing him to fold up and fall to the floor. The man who
had hit Brent came around the table and I broke his kneecap with a low
kick. As he fell, I broke both of his collarbones and then put him down
with an elbow strike to the face that seemed to break a few more bones as
it knocked him out.

I swiveled in a full circle to make sure there were no more attackers,
noting that Mr. Murphy was just coming around the end of the bar and that
Sing Hop was standing in the door to the kitchen with a large meat
cleaver in his hand. Sam and the Sheriff were standing in the door of the
saloon with surprised looks on their faces. I knelt beside Brent who was
already sputtering and trying to rise.

"Any of these going to die?" Mr. Murphy demanded as he stopped before
getting very near me.

"Just that one," I said, pointing at the older man. "...and he's already
dead!"

"That's Brent's father." Mr. Murphy said.

"Shit!" Quickly I moved over to the old man, unfolded him, and laid him
out flat on the floor. He had no pulse of course, but had not really
turned blue yet. I pulled off his right boot and struck the sole of his
foot with three fingers. Again. And again. Shuttering, he took a deep
breath and started to turn pink again.

I moved back over to Brent and helped him back up into his chair and
started to massage the back of his neck where he'd been hit.

"Wanna try and explain this?" I looked up and it was the Sheriff, with
Sam sort of hiding behind him. He had his gun out and a no-nonsense look
on his face.

"Wasn't the boys fault, Sheriff." Mr. Murphy said. "The old man came in
here with his foul mouth running and Bobby knocked Brent unconscious
before anybody could tell the boy what was going on." Then Mr. Murphy got
a sort of puzzled look on his face. "I'm not sure exactly what happened
next, Sheriff. The boy just sort of stood up, and the old man and his
boys just sort of laid down. And then I told the boy that the old man was
Brent's father, and he started him breathing again... or... well....
Hell, Sheriff. You saw! I don't know what the hell happened." Scratching
his bald pate and shaking his head, Mr. Murphy turned his back and
wandered back behind the bar. I noticed that Mr. Sing had disappeared as
soon as the sheriff showed up.

Brent moaned and tried to get up. I sat him back down in his chair.

The sheriff put his gun away and waved at some of the men who had
gathered. "You men pick this trash up and lug them over to the jail."
Thinking for a second, he added, "And if you see Doc, tell him he might
want to look them over." The men hastened to comply, lugging the
recumbent forms out of the saloon like so many sacks of grain.

"Will you join us for lunch?" I asked the sheriff.

"What makes you think you're going to have time for lunch?" asked the
sheriff.

"I have no intention of preferring charges against those men, Sheriff. If
they want to try again, they are perfectly welcome. The next time I see
them near Brent, or me, or our property, I will stop them --
permanently!"

"You making threats, Boy?"

"No, Sir. I'm telling you what is going to happen, so that you know the
truth."

"You always this calm about killing people? And bringing them back to
life?"

"I am NEVER calm about hurting people, Sheriff. But I never let killing
vermin bother me."

The sheriff stared at me, and then laughed as he pulled out a chair and
sat down. "Well, I can't say as how you haven't got Brent's kin figured
out, boy. Just don't do anything stupid in my town."

"I am sometimes foolish, Sheriff. I am never stupid, if I can at all help
it!"

Laughing, the sheriff shook his head, "No, I don't reckon that you'd be
stupid, Boy. Maybe foolish over someone you love, but not stupid." He
raised an eyebrow at me and I blushed bright red. Brent leaned over and
rubbed my shoulder. "You can be foolish over me all you want. Now, what
the hell happened?"

Sam couldn't contain himself any longer. He started gesturing and jumping
around in his chair as he tried to describe what happened. "...then Bobby
hit you in the back of the head and... balowie... Jason hit that fucking
Darnel right in the balls and..."

The sheriff put his hand on Sam's shoulder, quieting him. "You know I'm a
good Christian man, Sam. And I don't want to hear any son-in-law of mine
using language like that."

Sam blushed bright red and ducked his head.

I saw Sing Hop coming. "Gentlemen. I see that Sing Hop and his wife have
our food ready. May I suggest we stick to topics more relaxing?"

Everyone seemed to think that was a good idea and Sing Hop started laying
the table with plates and table service. Within minutes the table was
covered with steaming dishes. My eyes were bright with need from the
sight and smell of exquisitely prepared Cantonese cuisine.

Staring around at the brightly colored dishes, the sheriff asked, "What
is all this?"

"This is an authentic Cantonese feast, Sheriff." I said.

"You mean it's some kind of Chink cooking?"

I started to flush, but Brent quickly cut in, "Being a good Christian,
Sheriff. I think you ought to know that Jason and the Chinese consider
'Chink' just about as dirty a word as 'fucking'."

The sheriff looked startled, then looked directly at Sing Hop. "I'm sorry
you didn't tell me that before Sing Hop. I hope you can believe that I
never meant to insult you."

"There can be no offense taken, where none was intended. You have always
been most polite, Sheriff. But I thank you for your concern." Bowing,
Sing Hop returned to the kitchen.

Less forgiving than gentleman Sing, I added, "Yes, it's some sort of
'Chink' cooking, Sheriff. But why don't you at least try it before
throwing it to the pigs? I'm sure we can dig up a raw steak and some
burned potatoes for you if necessary."

The sheriff just stared at me for a minute. "And I thought my wife had a
scathing tongue. Heaven help me if you really get mad at me, young man."

As a peace offering, I lifted a plate from the table and offered it to
the sheriff.

"What's that?" he asked.

"Pig balls boiled in urine." I answered abruptly.

Eyes fixed on the plate with a look usually reserved for things crawling
out of a grave, the sheriff gulped air and swallowed uncomfortably.

An odd noise from the far side of the table gathered our attention as Sam
slid out of his chair and under the table. The sounds of stifled gales of
laughter worked their way up around the edges of the table. The sheriff
looked back at the plate of food and saw what Sam had seen. Nothing more
than a plate of steamed vegetables. That and the look on the sheriff's
face had driven Sam into retreat. Flushing, he kicked under the table and
told Sam to get back in his seat and to mind his manners. Sam complied,
but had to cover his face with his hands several times during the meal
when he caught Sheriff Buford making funny faces.

There were several things that the sheriff didn't particularly care for,
but he cornered the market on the ginger chicken, telling the rest of us
if we wanted any more, we should ask Sing Hop for another plate. I told
the sheriff that ginger was considered by the Chinese to be an
aphrodisiac and strengthener of the manly powers. His response was, "No
shit!" Sams mouth fell open, and I thought he was going to pass out from
shock. Sheriff Buford glared at him as if to dare him to say anything.
"You young studs think you invented sex. If you manage to keep Angel as
satisfied as I keep her mother, she'll be lucky!"

Sam blushed bright red and started looking for an escape route. Brent and
I just laughed and pointed fingers at the speechless boy.

"That reminds me," the sheriff continued, "You boys are still going to
join us for supper, aren't you? Angel's helping her mother cook up a mess
of fried chicken with all the fixings, and you sure don't want to miss
that."

I looked at Brent and he nodded his head and said, "Sure, Sheriff.
Wouldn't want to miss some of your wife's fine cooking. And besides, we
just might be able to keep Sam from getting carried away with your
daughter."

Sam started sputtering and we all just laughed at him and refused to
listen to his protestations of innocence.

At the end of the meal the sheriff looked up to me, "Son, this was one
fine meal. I'm glad you had me eat this. I don't think I'd have tried it
on my own. I'll have to ask Mr. Sing to make me some more sometime.
Especially that ginger stuff." He stopped and thought, and then blinked
his eyes, "Especially if it really works."

I smiled and nodded to the sheriff, and then thought for a minute.
Looking around the Saloon, I asked the sheriff, "You wouldn't bring your
family in here, would you, Sheriff Buford?"

Looking a little indignant, he replied, "Certainly not!"

"No insult intended, Sheriff. If there was a nice place, a restaurant,
would you bring your family there to eat this sort of food?"

The sheriff looked thoughtful, then said, "Yes. I think my wife would
like this sort of food, and Angel is always wanting to try new things.
Yes, I think we'd end up being regular customers, at least, I know I
would. Now, Brent. I think you and I have some business to take care of;
you boys think you can keep yourselves occupied without getting into
trouble?"

A few minutes later Brent had paid the food and bar bill and he and the
sheriff headed off to the courthouse, leaving Sam and me out in front of
the saloon. I pulled on Sam's sleeve and said, "Come on."

Right next to the saloon was an empty building, built right against the
wall of the saloon. "What's this?" I asked.

"Used to be a hard goods store, but the guy was cheating people, so we
chased him out of town."

"Who owns it?"

"Murphy probably still owns it. Why?"

"You'll see. Come on."

Sam followed me back into Murphys and we went back to the kitchen. Sing
Hop was busy washing dishes and his wife was preparing vegetables.

This is Sam. Jason sort of didn't tell this the way it really happened,
so I'm butting in. Back in those days, the old man wasn't nearly as
positive as he is now. More diffident like. Anyhow, after we looked at
Bud Taylor's old place we went back over to Sing's place, which was just
a kitchen then. They spoke in that funny language mostly, and it's taken
me the better part of fifty years of prying to find out what really
happened. There was a boy, maybe eight or nine years old, laying on a cot
in the back of the kitchen. Kind of hiding in the dark, but bright eyes
twinkling and not missing a thing. Jason asked to be introduced to the
boy, and you could tell that Sing didn't want to, but was too polite to
refuse. Jason went back to shake hands, but the boy just tried to hide
his face under the covers. Jason just talked quietly to the boy until the
covers came back down. Jason reached over to the boys chin with a finger
and turned his face away from the wall.

I'm here to tell ya, I darn near passed out. That boys face was all
lopsided something awful. The whole left side of his face was darn near
as big as a normal kids head. Tears were leaking out of the boys eyes and
you could tell he as ashamed to be seen.

Now I'm here to tell ya, Swear to God, Jason seemed to swell up and
become a different person. Powerful like. Made ya think of Presidents and
Generals and like that. He asked Sing and his wife a few questions and
then looked at the boy and touched the ugly part of his face. In English,
he said, "Well. We can't have this, can we Ho?" Without turning away from
the boy, he continued, "Sam. Go get me my saddlebags. They're on the
floor next to my bed." I didn't argue at being bossed around or nothin',
I just got the hell out of there and got him those saddlebags, running
all the way.

When I got back, Jason took the bags from me and said, "Thanks." He
pulled out a flat parcel and untied the ribbon that held it shut. He
opened it up and laid it down flat and then removed some medical looking
tools from loops on the inside of the parcel and put them in a pan of
boiling water he had on the stove. Then he took out another parcel that
had a piece of silk inside with a whole bunch of long skinny needles
stuck in it and put that in the water too.

While he waited for the water to purify his tools, Jason talked to the
boy and got his permission to work on his face. The boy was totally
entranced by Jason and agreed with everything he said. Sing and his wife
were powerful fretful, but didn't interfere. In fact, every time Jason
asked for something, they jumped to do his bidding like it was God
Almighty talking.

I couldn't hardly stand it, but, at the same time, I couldn't keep from
watching. as Jason set his tools out to cool and then  laid the boy on
his side with a pillow propping his head up with that big ugly thing
sticking up in plain sight. Speaking softly in Chinese, explaining
everything he did as he went along, Jason continued to methodically and
steadfastly work on the boy. First washing the boys face and his own
hands with a purple-brown fluid from a bottle he had in his saddlebags,
Jason then started to stick needles in the boy. I swear, I'd never seen
anything like that in my life. Starting with the boys ears, Jason stuck
those long needles into the boy, twisting them back and forth once they
were planted. I swear, that boy never flinched or batted an eye. He just
laid there with sort of a relieved smile on his face as Jason stuck
needles in the back of his neck, down his spine and in his hands and
feet. The kid looked like a porcupine when Jason was done and his parents
did nothing to interfere. I just gave up. I didn't understand anything
that was going on.

Quickly, but with no hurry, Jason picked up a wicked sharp looking knife
and cut the boy behind the jaw. You ain't gonna believe this, and I still
don't, but Jason cut that boy wide open and there wasn't so much as one
drop of blood anywhere! My eyes were bugged out so far I thought they
were going to fall on the floor.

Jason picked up a long, curved metal thing and stuck it under the boys
skin and wiggled it around. I thought I was going to puke, but before I
could Jason put down the metal thing and covered the boys face with a
cloth. I thought he'd died, but Jason just pulled the cloth off the boys
face and dropped it behind him onto the bed. I just stood there in shock.
That boys face was as smooth and flat as anyone's! Not a mark or blemish
or lump or nothing, just a smooth-skinned little boys face with those
funny eyes.

Jason used a curved needle with some kind of thin black thread to put
tiny little stitches into the boys face. When he was done he painted on
some more of that purple-brown stuff and you couldn't hardly tell the
boy'd been cut except for the discoloration of the purple gunk and that
neat row of stitches. I sat down in a chair before I passed out. Jason
took the needles out of the boy and asked him how he felt. The boy
answered in English and told Jason that he felt fine, but that his face
felt funny. I couldn't help it, this kid had just had his face whacked
open and a big old lump pulled out and all he could say was that his face
felt funny. I started laughing and couldn't stop. I got up and took down
a mirror from over the wash sink and took it over to the boy. At first he
didn't want to look in the mirror, but then he caught a glimpse of
himself and his mouth dropped open. He stared in the mirror and reached
up and put his hand on his face. He looked up at me and then he started
laughing too. His parents moved in and grabbed him and hugged and kissed
him and jabbered at him and at Jason. And, you know, I didn't need to
know a single word of Chinese to know exactly what they were saying.

When things quieted down a little bit, Jason reached behind the boy and
lifted a cloth-wrapped bundle. "This is not a part of you, but an
invader. It need not be preserved for burial with you. Will you destroy
it now? Yourself?

The boy nodded and his father quickly got up, opened the firebox door on
the cooking range and stoked the fire until it was blazing fit to burn a
hole in the stove. The kid took the bundle from Jason, handling it like
it might bite him and walked over to the stove. Glancing at his parents,
and then grinning up at Jason, he threw the bundle into the flames, and
then spit on it! Jason started laughing and then we were all laughing.
The kid pulled out his little wizzer and pissed all over the thing in the
fire. It was like that was the funniest thing we'd ever seen and we
couldn't stop laughing. I'd heard people say, "Piss on it!", but I'd
never actually seen someone do it!

The kid closed up his pants and Jason picked him up and used one hand to
brush the boys hair straight, and then kissed him on the lips. The kid
threw his arms around Jason's neck, buried his face on Jason's shoulder
and started bawling. The boys mother moved to take him from Jason, but
Jase just shook his head 'No' and held the boy until he cried out all the
feelings he was having. Jason then laid the exhausted boy down on his cot
and sat quietly with him, holding his hand for a few minutes until the
boy was soundly asleep, and then kissed his cheek and stood up.

Sing Hop and his wife just stared at Jason, who looked awfully
embarrassed and small all of a sudden. Then they bowed to him and Sing
Hop went to the door and called for Murphy, who came in and stood there
expectantly as Sing Hop turned to face Jason. Pointing to me and Murphy,
Sing Hop said, very formally, "Before these witnesses, I state that all
that is mine, is yours. I am your slave and will serve you until the Gods
call me."

Murphy looked startled, and glared at me for an explanation. I just
pointed to the boy asleep on his cot. Murphy blinked, and then walked
over to peer closely at the boys face, reaching up with his calloused
fist to touch the boys face with one tentative finger. All you could hear
was him saying 'Oh Shit!', over and over. He finally turned, and I was
shocked to see tears wending their way down that battered face. "Did you
do this?" He asked Jason. Jason nodded and Murphy grabbed him in those
huge arms and squeezed him until I could hear bones creaking over the
sound of Murphy saying 'Oh Shit!' over and over and bawling like a baby.
I was just getting ready to hit Murphy over the head with a piece of
firewood to save Jason's life when Mrs. Sing touched his shoulder and
handed him a wet cloth to wash his face with.  Murphy seemed to come out
of his shock and put Jason down so he could remove the evidence of his
soft heart before anyone noticed. He kept blubbering and saying 'Oh Shit'
and pointing at the kid though!

The boy stirred in his sleep and Mrs. Sing chased us all out of her
kitchen with silent threats of mayhem if we woke the boy. We went out and
sat at one of the tables. Luckily, there was no one else in the saloon
just then and Murphy went behind the bar and came back with four big mugs
of his home-brewed beer. I started to say that Oleg would kill me if I
drank that beer, but Murphy shushed me and told me to drink up, I'd
earned it. So I shrugged and drank up. It was GOOD! And it did settle me
down some.

We had to explain to Murphy exactly what happened and Jason had to
reassure him several times that the growth was unlikely to come back,
that it was just a "fatty tumor", probably caused by some sort of foreign
object that got under the kids skin. Jason quickly changed the subject by
asking Murphy what he was planning on doing with the building next door.
Murphy just shrugged and said, "I don't know. Maybe sell it if the price
is right?"

"What's the right price?" Asked Jason.

"You thinking of buying it?" Murphy returned.

"If the price is right, I just might." Jason quipped back, just as
quickly.

"Well, let's see," Murphy said, rubbing his chin. "Cost me about 250
dollars for lumber and maybe a hundred dollars to have it built, and then
there's the money that fucking Taylor cheated me out of. Call it $700,
and it's yours."

"Including the land?"

"No. But I hold clear title to it. You want that, it's probably worth
about $300. That includes the land out back and the shack and the two
sheds on that property. Pretty run down, but they can be fixed up."

"Cash money?"

"Cash money!"

Jason reached into the other pocket of his saddlebag and laid a one
thousand dollar gold note on the table. "Cash money!"

Murphy just stared and then asked, "Is that any good?"

Straight faced, Jason answered, "Just as good as I could print it."

Murphy looked startled, and then looked at Jason. "Don't fuss with me
boy, or you'll find out that you're not too big to end up across my
knee." He picked up the bill and looked at it carefully, then stuck his
hand out and said, "You got a deal."

"Not me." Jason said. "The new owner is Mr. Sing. He's going to put a
first class Chinese restaurant in that building."

Murphy looked thoughtful and rubbed his chin again. "Well... I don't know
about that."

"You have some sort of problem with a Chinaman owning property next to
you?"

"No, not me. But what's the sheriff going to think?"

"I think the sheriff is going to think it's just fine --- If he ever
want's to taste ginger chicken again!"

Murphy laughed and grabbed Mr. Sing's hand and shook it. "You got
yourself a restaurant, Sing Hop." Then he looked thoughtful for a minute
and said, "But what the hell am I going to do for food in here now?
Everybody expects the good cooking they've been getting, and I can't cook
for shit!"

Jason grinned. "That's the best part of the deal. You let Sing Hop keep
the kitchen where it is. They can cut a door into the other building and
serve food to both places. Fine dinners in the restaurant and the regular
food your customers like in here. And you get free meals for yourself
thrown into the bargain!"

Murphy's eyes gleamed and he turned to Sing Hop, "Deal?" he asked.

"Yes, Honorable Murphy. I think we most assuredly have a deal."

In the Chinese manner, Sing Hop and Murphy shook their own hands and
bowed to each other to seal their words of honor.

"But I think this is going to be very much work for me."

"It seems to me," Jason said, "that a man with a strong nine year old son
could teach him to help set and clear tables during the rush times."

Mr. Sing's inscrutable face gleamed with joy. "Oh, yes, Most Honorable
Jason. That is very much the truth. Very, very the truth. My son loved
talking to people before he became disfigured, and he speaks very much
better English than his mother or me . I think he would make an excellent
assistant." He bowed deeply to Jason, and Jase returned the bow. And then
they just sat there grinning stupidly at each other.

Some people came into the saloon and Murphy stood up. "Well, while you
two are congratulating each other, some of us have work to do."

We watched him leave and then Sing Hop spoke, "Excuse me Honorable Sam,
but may I speak privately with the Most Honorable Jason?"

"Sam is my brother, Sing Hop. You may say whatever you wish in front of
him."

Sing Hop stared at me and then bowed and said, "You have an excellent
choice of brothers, Most Honored Sam." Turning to Jase he continued, "You
are then truly the one we have been told to look for."

Jason raised his eyebrows and just looked at Sing Hop.

"Word has been spread to watch for one of the martial priests who was
trained by my Esteemed Uncle, Lee Po. I have been told to offer you
whatever aid or assistance I may. Again, for more reasons than duty, what
I have is yours."

Jason leaned forward on the table and started to deal. "Lee Po is your
mothers brother?"

"Yes. That is true."

"Then Lee Chang Fung, the banker is your uncle as well."

"Yes. I have that honor."

"Then you are his agent!"

Sing Hop glanced at me, and then reluctantly said, "Yes. That is true."

"You have adequate security?"

"Yes. Mostly in secrecy." glancing at me again.

"Sam will say nothing of anything he hears here to anyone. He is to be
trusted"

Jason said that with total conviction, and I made up my mind right there
that, no matter what, I'd never break word or confidence with him. And I
never have, including asking him for permission to write this.

"As you say. The Honorable Sam is your brother."

"Then," Jason said, "I wish to make a deposit with you, for you to keep
safely and invest wisely." Jason reached into his bag again and pulled
out a sheaf of thousand dollar bills and handed it to Mr. Sing, who
quickly made it disappear. That is $49,000. I also wish to deposit a one
thousand dollar note with you from an honorable person."

"With this amount of money, a person could set up a fine restaurant and
make other wise investments. You will be paid interest at loan rates."
(Jason explained to me later that loan rates in China were 100% or more,
while deposit rates were much, much lower.)

"No. I will be paid at deposit rates, and you will give me an accounting
each New Year. And I may withdraw all or part of the money on six months
notice. Further, Solomon Rand is acting as my agent to sell some property
of mine. You will work with him and help him as necessary. Is that
acceptable?"

"Yes. Most acceptable. Mr. Rand is an honest and honorable man. I admire
him greatly."

"One thing though. You should never offer him pork if he comes to eat in
your restaurant."

Bowing, Mr. Sing said, "Yes, I know his dietary rules. But you should
know that Mr. Rand is the only customer I have who orders Chicken Fried
Rice --- and becomes angry if it tastes like chicken!"

Jason and Mr. Sing stared at each other and then burst out laughing. It
took me fifteen years to get Jason to tell me what that joke was about.
AFTER the old man had died and I couldn't laugh at him for his foible.
And the way that old man picked on me and made me be a good businessman,
I NEEDED that ammunition!

We, or rather Jason and Mr. Sing, set up a deal where I was to supply the
restaurant with tables and chairs and various sorts of ironwork, using
Oleg and Sven as my subcontractors to produce the specific requirements
Mr. Sing had. I counted on my fingers and figured that I'd make enough
money from this to marry Angel by the time we were 16, especially if Oleg
made me a journeyman instead of an apprentice for landing a deal like
this.

In high spirits, Jason and I left the saloon by the back door, headed for
the smithy. Murphy was standing out there, just staring out across the
plains. He turned and gathered us up into those powerful arms and
gripping our butts in his big, hugely strong hands. "I want you boys to
know how important that little guy is to me." He said, looking mostly at
Jason. "Sneaking out to my shack after I close the saloon every night,
wearing that damn hood to hide his face so he could bring me some of his
mama's fine cooking. And then sneaking into the saloon to clean up and
make things neat for me." I could see tears glinting in this gruff mans
eyes. "Thank you." He leaned down and chastely kissed Jason's lips. Then
he turned to me and surprised the hell out of me by almost savagely
crushing my lips and filling my gaping mouth with a hot and agile tongue.
His hand gripped my ass so tight that it felt like he might tear it off
-- but it felt really good and my dick swelled up and jammed into his
thigh and I hunched up against him with sudden need. He finally broke off
our kiss and, in a husky voice, tears streaming down his face, said,
"Like the Chinaman said, boys. Anything of mine you want, you got. Now
get the hell out of here." One last squeeze of our butts and he pushed us
away and headed for the saloon.

I stood there trying to catch my breath and Jason  looked at me
seriously. "He wants you bad Sam."

All I could do was stare at the door Murphy had just gone through and nod
my head.

"Do you want him?"

Startled, feeling scared inside, almost panicky, I turned wide-eyed to
face Jason. Gulping, I nodded, "Yes."

"Maybe you should ask Oleg to invite him over for a sauna."

"Yeah... Yeah!" Turning to face the closed door again, I gulped and said,
"Yeah, that might be a good idea."

"Don't play around with that man, Sam. He's as serious as a case of
smallpox and it wouldn't be fair to lead him on."

I turned back to Jason, almost angry. "I'd never be a prick-tease, Jason.
Never. I'm not like that!"

"You think you can handle him and Oleg and Sven at the same time?"

My eyes glazing over, I turned back to the door. "Oh Jeeze," I breathed
out. Imagining all three of the big men making love to me at the same
time, my whole body shivered and rippled all over. Turning back to Jason
with a look on my face that Jason later described as pure lust, I
throatily croaked out, "Oh Jeeze, yeah!"

Looking down at my crotch, Jason laughed and said, "Yeah, I guess so!"

I looked down and blushed bright red. There was a huge tented out wet
spot in the front of my pants where I was about to rip through the canvas
fabric. I quickly adjusted myself to a more comfortable and less
conspicuous arrangement and started trying to stutter out some kind of
excuse/explanation. Jason just punched me in the arm and laughed. "Come
on!" he challenged, and ran off.

My arm stinging and full of teenage energy, I charged off after him. I'd
always been considered the fastest runner in town, but all I could do was
keep up with Jason. Every time I'd get close to him, he'd add a little
speed, and then slow down when I started to lag behind. We ran clean down
past the South end of town and then looped across Main Street and back up
to behind the Livery Stable. Bent over, hands on knees and gasping for
breath, sweating like pigs, we started laughing and couldn't stop.
Finally catching our breaths, Jason and I stood and grabbed each other.
Hugging tight, tussling with pure high spirits and excess energy, we both
tried to express our feelings for each other.

I stopped and held Jason at arms length. Staring hard at him. Really
looking at him. He was so special!

"You're the best brother a guy could have." I said. Adolescent shyness
and embarrassment drowned in overwhelming feeling.

Jason got very quiet. He put his hands up on my arms, just above the
elbow. He just stared at me, his eyes as serious and thoughtful as if he
was an 80 year old man holding onto me. My belly did flip-flops and I'd
have given a million dollars right then to have been anywhere else but
standing there having him look at me like that. I was terrified that he
hated the way I felt about him. Suddenly, I wanted to cry and run off and
hide.

Gripping me tightly, holding me in place, keeping me from running like he
knew what I was thinking, Jason finally said, very quietly, "Yes.
Brothers." Moving his hand to tap himself, and then me, on the chest, "In
here. Where it counts."

Tears filling our eyes, we grabbed each other and hugged like we were
trying to break each other. Strong adolescent muscles rippling and
straining against each other. Working for Oleg, lifting and carrying
heavy iron and wood, helping with the forge and such had given me a body
that was bulky and heavy with muscle. But, somehow, Jason's slight frame
was every bit as strong and powerful as mine. Trying to outdo each other
quickly lead to a wrestling match that degenerated into a mock fistfight
with us striving to muss up the others hair. Grappling again, we hit the
ground and started rolling around and around in the dirt, raising a cloud
of dust and thoroughly covering ourselves with the rich plains soil.

Suddenly, we hit something solid and quit rolling. Looking up, we both
saw a tall expanse of leather apron surmounted by a burr-haired head
outlined by the shining sun behind it. Oleg's disapproving look made us
look at each other -- and then we broke out in uncontrollable laughter.
Two big work-hardened grapples came down and took us by the backs of our
denim shirts. Pulling us apart, Oleg held us up like a pair of kittens,
feet dangling in mid-air. Faces suddenly sober, we both gave Oleg "Gee
Whiz" looks, like butter wouldn't melt in our mouths. Our innocent looks
weren't noticeably successful.

"Looks to me like you two have some excess energy. Get cleaned up and
come help me with the forge."

He dropped us and walked off. I fell into a heap on the ground, but Jason
landed on his feet, crouched like a cat. Jason helped me up and, hands
over our mouths to stifle the laughter, we ran around the building to the
horse trough. Beating the bulk of the dust off of each other first, we
pulled our shirts off and rinsed them off in the trough. Then we pumped
water for each other and scrubbed the dirt out of our hair and off our
upper bodies. Then we used the single towel to dry each other.

"Hey, Sam?"

"Yeah?"

"How about Angel?"

"Huh?"

"I mean, tell me to butt out if you want to, but, well... you love Angel.
Right?'

"Yeah." I said in sort of a goofy voice.

"I mean, you want to marry her and have sex and babies and all that.
Right?"

Smiling, and getting goofy all over like I did when I thought of Angel in
those days, I said, "Sure!"

"Well...?"

"What, Jase? What's wrong?"

"Well... I was just wondering about Oleg and Sven and Murphy and stuff if
you get married. I mean, what if Angel..."

Laughing, I put my hand up to stop Jason. "It's OK, Jase. Angel knows all
about Oleg and Sven and Laka and me. She doesn't mind at all. She says
that as long as I love her at least as much as the others in my life,
that's OK with her."

"Wow! Really?

"Yeah. She even said that if Oleg and Seven want to share a bed with us
after we're married, that's okay with her as long as that's what I want."

"Wow! She's really special."

"Yeah. She really is. Wanna hear something funny?"

"Yeah."

"You know that young clerk at the courthouse? The guy that helps the
judge and all?"

"Yeah. The good-looking guy?"

"Yep. Anyway, He's Sheriff Buford's first cousin. His daddy's brothers
son. He rents a room at the Sheriff's house."

"Yeah?"

"Angel says that she and her mom never have to change the sheets on the
bed in his room."

"Yeah?" Jason said with a puzzled look on his face. He thought for a
minute and then his eyes lit up. "You mean....?"

"Yep!" I said, grinning. "Angel sleeps alone, but he don't. She says that
sometimes the three of them like to try and shake the house down. She
knows what I do with Oleg and Sven because she's seen her daddy and Ralph
sucking on each other and butt-fucking, and she asked her daddy once what
they were doing and he explained how sometimes men like to help each
other with their urges."

"Wow! The Sheriff? You think he'd..."

Laughing, I punched Jason in the arm. "He treats me like a son. That's
what he calls me when we're alone. 'Son'. Makes me feel really good when
he does that. He's already told me that on our wedding night, me and
Angel are going to come to bed with him and his wife so they can show us
how to do it proper so that I don't hurt Angel."

His eyes really big, Jason said, "Wowwwww!"

Before we could talk any more, I heard a bellow from inside and punched
Jason in the arm. "Come on. Oleg wants us NOW, and you'd better hurry if
you don't want your butt whomped."

We ran inside where Oleg was working on the forge. He put his hand sledge
down and grabbed Jason and me by a tittie each. Twisting and lifting, he
brought us both to our toes. "You paying attention now?"

We both quickly started nodding agreement. He had our undivided
attention, no problem!

Twisting and rolling our hard little tits between his calloused thumbs
and forefingers he told us to quit playing around, to get some aprons on
and to help him. As soon as he let go, I took Jason over and got him one
of the leather aprons we used to protect ourselves from the heat and hot
metal. Jason wasn't used to the forge, so I had him put on one of the
short leather, long-sleeved jackets on before the apron. We quickly got
into the rhythm of working together with Oleg who worked us hard all
afternoon. We were so into what Oleg had us doing that we didn't even
notice when it started getting dark. He finally pulled us to a stop and
shook us with his big paws that completely covered our shoulders where
he'd grabbed us. "That was a good days work. You boys work good together,
like brothers."

Jason and I grinned sort of bashfully at each other, trying to break out
of the focused concentration we'd fallen into with the routine of the
work.

Oleg pulled us against his sides, tucked us under his massive arms and
chuckled as he hugged us. "So? Dem boy being brutters, heh!" he grinned.

Bashfully, we buried our faces against his leather covered chest and
nodded, "Yes".

"Dat's goot. Goot brutters ist goot! Come ve get clean, I tank."

Oleg's accent always got much worse when he was having strong feelings.
Like his brain was going back to the old country or something. Oleg led
us out to the horse trough by the hands like we were a couple of little
boys or something. We all helped each other get undressed and then Oleg
washed us and we washed Oleg. Brent showed up while we were washing Oleg
and joined us. I made Sam wash Brent while I finished washing Oleg. Laka
came out with some clean towels that she'd warmed in the oven for us. We
went back to the house naked and Laka had clean clothes waiting for us in
the warm kitchen. Sven went out and got our dirty clothes and took them
to the washhouse while we were dressing. Sven came back in naked and wet,
looking for a towel. Laka looked around her kitchen full of naked or
nearly naked men and laughed, "Well, if this isn't a maiden's dream."
Oleg pinched her butt and she slapped his arm as she skipped out into the
dining room with a laugh.

Sam described the jobs he'd made deals for that day and he and Oleg and
Sven discussed the work while we all got dressed in clean clothes. Oleg
finally nodded his head in understanding and agreement. Looking a his
brother he said, "I tank we got ourselves a goot businessman here." Sven
agreed and said that maybe it was about time they made me a journeyman,
with a share in the business. Oleg said to wait until they saw how the
deal I'd set up, with Jason's help, worked out. Then he turned to me and
said, "Dis works like you say, you no journeyman. You partner.
One-quarter of business."

Shocked, I just stood there with my pants half-way up until Jason and
Brent started pounding me on the back in congratulations. I let go of my
pants and they fell down to my ankles as I hugged Jason and Brent with
joy. I went to hug Oleg but was tripped by my pants and fell at his feet.
I looked up just in time to see him look down at me. Shaking his head, he
said, "Den again..." I started sputtering, trying to redeem myself, but
couldn't make myself heard over the four laughing men.

We finally got out the front door and walked across town to the Sheriff's
house. Dinner was wonderful, Fried chicken, three kinds of potatoes,
including baked with cheese the way I liked them, vegetables and fresh
garden salad, buttermilk and... well just everything, but I couldn't
hardly taste anything for thinking about Angel

Brent and Jason finally teased me into telling the Sheriff what Oleg and
Sven had said, and I ended up formally asking the Sheriff for permission
to court his daughter. Angel dropped her fork on the floor and averted
her blushing face, hiding her hands in her lap. Sheriff Buford allowed as
how he'd better agree, or he'd end up having to shoot some young scalawag
for nosing around his daughter. Suddenly dinner didn't seem very
interesting and all Angel and I could do was stare at each other.

Mrs. Buford finally told Angel to take me to the parlor and the Sheriff
complained about how that was no way to act with guests at the table.
Mrs. Buford told him to hush and was he so old that he'd forgotten how it
was to be in love. It was the Sheriff's turn to start sputtering and
everybody laughed while Angel got me out of there with no one but her
noticing the condition of the front of my pants. Jason joined us later
and the three of us talked for a while. He finally left to give Angel and
me a chance to say good-night in privacy. She told me she'd heard about
what he'd done to Brent's dad and brothers, and what he'd done for the
Chinese boy. She said she thought Jason was wonderful, and really good
looking too. And that, if he was one of my special friends, that he'd be
welcome in our wedding bed too. So I had to tell her about me and Jason
being brothers and I could see her breathing quicken and her bust swell.
She gave me a kiss good-night that still gives me a hard-on when I think
of it , and then nuzzled into my ear and said how exciting she thought it
would be to be in bed with two brothers. I made up my mind right then and
there to convince Jason that it was his duty as my brother to help me bed
Angel sometime.

Angel and I went out to the main parlor hand-in-hand and her daddy had to
stand between me and his wife and motion me to adjust myself. I looked
down and realized that the tent in my pants was becoming damn near
permanent. I tucked myself under my waistband and Brent, Jason and I said
our good-nights. Jason and I talked excitedly all the way back and it
took Oleg, Sven and Laka several hours to wear me out to the point where
I could finally get to sleep.

---EOF---