“I thought you men weren’t going to have anything to do with the regular work on the ranch,” Turley said.
Malcolm chuckled. “Hell, we ain’t goin’ to change the damn wheels or pack the grease. We’re just goin’ into town is all.”
“Yeah ’n maybe get us a whiskey or two,” Dobbins added.
* * *
Shortly after Turley, Malcolm, and Dobbins left, Knox stepped into the ranch office without being invited. Houser looked up, the expression on his face registering his irritation at the intrusion.
“Mr. Knox, this is my private office,” Houser said. “I don’t allow my employees to come in at their whim. You must either be invited or request permission to enter.”
“Yeah, well I sort of thought that, bein’ the way things is, that I wasn’t like anyone else who works for you.”
“Oh? And just what sets you apart from the others, may I ask?”
“Slim ’n Dooley.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“You know, how you had me take care of Slim ’n Dooley for you? Well, it’s more ’n likely that you’ll be findin’ more jobs for me like that. So what I was thinkin’ is, maybe you’d like to pay me a little more ’n you’re payin’ me now.”
“Mr. Knox, I gave you a special bonus for that job, and I am paying you one hundred dollars a month now. That is almost five times more than I am paying any of my hands.”
“Yeah, but I know things that your hands don’t know. Plus, I got Malcolm ’n Dobbins to look after. So I was thinkin’, maybe, two hundred dollars a month.”
“Suppose I meet your demand, Mr. Knox. What assurance will I have that you won’t come back, asking for more?”
Knox held up his right hand. “Well, you got my word on it, Mr. Houser.”
“Your ‘word,’ Mr. Knox, is a fragile guarantee at best. However, under the circumstances, I will have to depend on it. You shall have your raise.”
Chapter Thirteen
It was just a coincidence that Elmer and Wang were going into town at the same time as Turley, Malcolm, and Dobbins. Elmer and Wang were on a mission to buy a new sucker rod for the windmill. Elmer was driving the wagon.
“You think Mai Lin will be the one to serve us?” Elmer asked.
“Yes.”
“Good. She’s got a hankerin’ after you, Wang. ’N she always treats us real good.”
“Yes,” Wang said.
“She’d make you a good wife, you know. And she’s a pretty thing, too.”
“It is not good for a Shaolin priest to marry.”
“But you ain’t really a Shaolin priest no more, I mean, not since you come to America.”
“Wherever I am, I will always be a Shaolin priest.”
Elmer nodded. “Yeah, I reckon you’re right. ’N I can understand about you not gettin’ married. It’s like Duff not marryin’ Miss Meagan, though someday he might. ’N it’s like me not marryin’ up with Vi.”
Vi Winslow and Elmer often kept company.
“Wonder what ole Le Fong has cooked up today.”
“You will like it,” Wang said.
“How do you know I’ll like it?”
“Because you are always hungry, and all food tastes good to the hungry mouth.”
“That’s another one o’ them Chinese sayin’s, ain’t it?”
“I am Chinese and I did say it,” Wang replied with a smile. “So, yes, you might say it is a Chinese saying.”
Elmer was saved from having to come up with some clever retort by the fact that they had arrived at Guthrie’s Building Supply.
“All right, you wait here, I’ll go in and buy the sucker rod,” Elmer said as he climbed down from the wagon. “Then we’ll go down ’n let you ’n Mai Lin make eyes at each other.”
* * *
A short time thereafter, Turley, Malcolm, and Dobbins arrived in town and as they rode up Clay Avenue, they saw Wang leaning against the back of the wagon, with his arms folded across his chest.
“Look at that damn Chinaman, just a-standin’ there like he owned the damned place,” Malcolm said.
“Hey, Chinaman!” Dobbins called. “What are you doin’ standin’ out here in front of a white man’s place of business? How come you ain’t doin’ laundry?”
Malcolm laughed at Dobbins’s “joke” but Wang paid no attention to the taunt.
“What’s the matter, Chinaman? Are you deef ?” Dobbins asked.
Wang didn’t even glance toward him.
“Damn, Dobbins, looks to me like the Chinaman is ignorin’ you,” Malcolm said.
“What the hell? Don’t you hear me talkin’ to you, you yeller-skinned bastard?”
“Come on, Malcolm, Dobbins, we come into town to get some hub grease, ’n maybe have a drink,” Turley said. “We didn’t come into town to yell at Wang. I know him, he’s a good man.”
Malcolm dismounted. “I ain’t goin’ nowhere till I get this heathen bastard to talk to me.”
“Maybe he don’t talk English,” Dobbins suggested. He dismounted as well.
“Oh, he speaks English, all right,” Elmer said, coming out of the hardware store at that moment, carrying the long sucker rod. He put the purchase in the back of the wagon.
“Why is it, then, that he isn’t talking?” Malcolm asked. “Why is it that we’re doin’ all the talkin’?”
“He who knows most speaks least. He who knows least speaks most,” Wang said.
Elmer laughed.
“What?” Malcolm asked angrily. “What the hell did that Chinaman just say?”
“I think he just said you don’t know nothin’,” Dobbins said.
“Ahh, come on, you two,” Turley said. “Leave Wang alone. The Chinaman ain’t botherin’ nobody.” He glanced toward Elmer. “I’m sorry about this, Mr. Gleason.”
“Mister Gleason? You’re callin’ that ole coot, mister?”
“I am.”
“Well, maybe me ’n Dobbins will just have to take care of Mister Gleason after we take care of the Chinaman.” The two men dismounted.
“Now, boys, I don’t think what you’ve got in mind is such a good idea. Trust me, it ain’t goin’ to turn out well for you,” Elmer said.
“It ain’t goin’ to turn out well, huh? What do you say about it, Chinaman? Is it goin’ to turn out bad for us?” Malcolm teased.
“A wise man thinks twice and acts once.
