Chapter Fourteen
By the time Turley and the other two stepped into the saloon a moment later, word had preceded them about their encounter with Wang.
“I don’t normally do this,” Biff Johnson said. Biff owned Fiddler’s Green Saloon. “But I’m goin’ to give you three boys a drink on the house. I figure you could use one, seeing as you boys were outnumbered in the fight you were just in.”
“Outnumbered? What are you talking about?” Dobbins asked with a rasp.
“I’m told that there were only the two of you. Is that right?”
“Yeah, two of us, one of him.”
“I have seen Wang fight before, and figurin’ that he was the one you were fighting, then, for all intents and purposes, you were outnumbered.”
“Who . . . who is that Chinaman, anyway?” Andy asked. Andy, who had been one of the spectators, followed the three Twin Peaks men down to Fiddler’s Green. “That old feller said that he was a priest of some kind.”
“Wang Chow is a priest, but not the kind of priest you know about.” Biff chuckled. “Though to be honest, I doubt you know about any priests at all. Anyway, a Shaolin priest is something special. All they do all day long is practice martial arts.”
“Art? You mean like pain tin’ ’n such?” Malcolm asked.
Biff chucked. “No, I mean practice fighting. If there had been ten of you, Wang would have prevailed.”
“Lord Almighty,” Andy said, shaking his head almost reverently. “I ain’t never seen, nor even heard of, anyone like that.”
“I must confess that though I had heard of them, Wang is the first such practitioner of the art that I ever actually saw,” Biff said.
“I was in here once when somebody took it in mind to throw Wang out,” Turley said. “I seen then, what he could do. You should have listened to Mr. Gleason and me.”
“That old coot? What the hell does he know?”
“He knew that you were making a mistake,” Biff said with a chuckle. “But there was no way anyone could have told you so that you would have believed it. It was something you had to see for yourself.”
“Yeah, well, I seen it,” Dobbins said. “What does that Chinaman do, anyway? He ain’t a cowboy, is he?”
“He’s a cowboy when he has to be, but the truth is, Wang Chow is the kind of man who can do anything,” Biff said.
* * *
When Turley, Malcolm, and Dobbins returned to the Twin Peaks ranch, word of their adventure in town had preceded them, and they were met with laughter and a lot of derisive calls.
“Hey, Malcolm! Is it true that a little Chinaman whupped you ’n Dobbins?”
“Hell, I heard he done it ’n didn’t even break a sweat!” another shouted.
There were many more taunts and jibes from the other hands, then Turley got word that Houser wanted to see him.
“Yes, sir?” Turley said a few minutes later as he stood across the desk from Houser in the ranch office.
“Is it true what they are saying, about you letting Malcolm and Dobbins be humiliated by a Chinese man?”
“Humiliated?” Turley paused for a moment then added, “Yeah, I guess that is the way I’d put it.”
“You are my foreman, Mr. Turley. For you to allow two of your men to be humiliated by a mere Chinese man, is not conducive to discipline.”
“Yes, sir, that may be so. But in the first place, Mr. Houser, I know Wang Chow, and I knew what he could do if Malcolm ’n Dobbins went after ’im. I tried to tell ’em, but they wouldn’t listen to me. ’N in the second place, you told me yourself that neither Knox, or Malcolm, or Dobbins worked for me. ’N since I’m not their boss, there wasn’t nothin’ I could do about it except try ’n talk ’em out of it, ’n I did, only that didn’t work out all that well. You see, the thing is, this here Wang feller ain’t what you would call a mere Chinaman. He’s a priest.”
“A priest?”
Despite himself, Turley chuckled. “That’s what ever’ one says, soon as they hear he’s a priest. But he ain’t the kind of priest you think of, when you hear the word. I mean, he don’t wear no collar or nothin’. But accordin’ to Mr. Johnson at the Fiddler’s Green, Wang Chow trained for most of his life to fight, only it ain’t like ordinary people would fight. It’s a special kind of fightin’ ’n Johnson says he could probably whup up on ten men as easy as he did Malcolm and Dobbins.”
Houser sighed, then ran his hand through his hair. “Yes, well, I can’t let him do such a thing with impunity. I understand that he works for Duff MacCallister?”
“Yes, sir.”
“I shall pay Mr. MacCallister a visit and register my complaint with him.”
* * *
The next day, Elmer, Wang, and a couple other hands were busy mounting the sucker rod on the windmill when a surrey with a yellow leather seat came up into the yard. Duff, who was watching the men work, recognized the man driving the surrey, and he stepped forward to greet him.
“Mr. Houser,” Duff said. “What would be bringing ye to Sky Meadow?”
“I want to know what kind of heathen monster you’ve got working for you, MacCallister.”
“I’m afraid ye have me at a bit of a disadvantage,” Duff said. “I’ve nae idea what heathen monster ye would be talking about.”
“I’m talking about the Chinaman you have working for you. He made an unprovoked attack on two of my men. Mr. Malcolm and Mr. Dobbins are finding it difficult to breathe because of their crushed windpipes.”
“They ain’t crushed, Mr. Houser, or they would be dead. And you should know that had Wang Chow wanted them dead, they would be,” Elmer said.
“Elmer, would you be for telling me now, what this is all about?” Duff asked.
“Yesterday, when me ’n Wang went into town, a couple o’ Mr. Houser’s men thought they would have a little fun with Wang, so they jumped on him.”
He looked back at Houser. “That was a big mistake, Mr. Houser. Wang isn’t like other men. He never starts a fight, but he never loses one.”
“I understand he is trained in some sort of special technique of fighting, with which my men were unfamiliar,” Houser said.
“Yes, sir, that’s right. I tried to warn ’em not to start ’nything. Your own man, Ben Turley, tried to warn ’em, too, but they didn’t listen. Maybe this here will teach them boys a little lesson so’s they won’t be a-startin’ another fracas. They might run into someone who won’t be as nice to ’em as Wang was.”
“Nice? There was nothing nice about it,” Houser complained.
“It’s like I said, Mr. Houser. Did he want to, Wang coulda kilt them boys, just as easy as takin’ a bite outta one o’ Vi’s pies.”
“I don’t know if you know it or not, MacCallister, but I am an attorney,” Houser said. “And I am quite prepared to sue you for damages due to injuries sustained by my employees from an unprovoked attack.”
“There warn’t nothin’ unprovoked about it a-tall,” Elmer said. “I seen the whole thing. Them two no-accounts of yours attacked Wang. All he done was defend hisself.”
“There is no way one man could have prevailed against both of them in such a fashion unless he initiated the attack, and did so without so much as a word of warning.”
“They was near ’bout a dozen people who seen it all happen,” Elmer said. “I ain’t no lawyer like you, but even I know that if you got a dozen people sayin’ one thing, that there ain’t no lawyer in the world can prove it another.”
“I assure you, Mr. Houser, Wang is quite capable of handling not just two, but several attackers, at once,” Duff said.
“You speak of him as if he can perform magic,” Houser said.
Wang was at the top of the windmill, and because work had stopped, he was able to hear everything that was being said. And even though he was the subject of the conversation, he had not added anything to the discourse.
“Wang, would you come down, please?”
Wang started to climb down.
“Not that way,” Duff said.
At Duff’s suggestion, Wang turned around and leaped toward the ground, head first.
“What the . . . ?” Houser shouted, startled by Wang’s action.
Wang caught hold of the windmill tower halfway down and used it, both to slow his fall and to turn a flip in midair to right himself. A second later he landed on his feet, alongside Houser and Duff.
“So, this is the Chinaman, is it?”
“Wang isn’t an it, Wang is a he. I should think you would know that.”
“Yes, well, I must say that while he exhibited a remarkable degree of dexterity by his rather . . . unorthodox . . . response to your call, that I find him rather unimposing.”
Duff picked up a spanner wrench that was being used to repair the windmill and handed it to Houser.
“Hit him with this,” Duff invited.
“So he can hit me back?”
“Wang, I don’t want you to harm Mr. Houser in any way,” Duff said.
“I will not harm him,” Wang said, speaking for the first time.
“All right, there you go. Wang has said that he won’t harm you. Now, go ahead and hit him.”
“This is ridiculous. I have no intention of . . .” Suddenly in the middle of his sentence, and without warning, Houser swung the wrench at Wang. Had he connected, he would have injured Wang severely, but Wang, with only the slightest adjustment, avoided the blow.
Houser tried again and again, but each time Wang managed to elude his strikes, thrusts, and jabs with moves so subtle that to an observer it almost appeared as if Houser was missing on purpose. After half a dozen attempts, Houser stopped and just stood there for a moment, breathing heavily. He gave the wrench back to Duff.
“I . . . suppose it is possible that he handled them by himself,” Houser said, gasping for air between words. “I’ll be on my way, now.”
“Come back for a visit, anytime,” Duff called out to him as he climbed back into the surrey. Houser didn’t respond verbally, but he gave a slight wave as he drove off.
“I tried to warn them fellers before they commenced tryin’ to fight Wang that they was bitin’ off more ’n they could take a chaw of, but they didn’t listen. If they couldn’t handle themselves, they shoulda found someone else to play with,” Elmer said, and the others who were working on the windmill laughed.
* * *
Two days later, Houser drove the surrey into Chugwater then stopped in front of the law offices of Norton and Norton. It had been Dan Norton who handled the legal aspects of his buying Twin Peaks.
“Mr. Houser,” Norton greeted when Houser stepped into his office. “What can I do for you?”
“Tell me what you can about MacCallister,” Houser said.
Norton got a questioning look on his face. “Surely you aren’t contemplating any legal action against Duff MacCallister, are you?”
“What? No, no, of course not. It is just that he is my neighbor and seems to be an important man in the Valley of the Chug, so I think I would like to know more about him. He speaks with a heavy Scottish brogue, so I’m certain he isn’t a native American.”
“No, he isn’t, but he has adapted very quickly to our culture. He is, as you have observed, a very important man here, not only because he has extensive land holdings, but because he is in every way a gentleman, and someone we can count on when there is trouble.
“Of course, that comes rather naturally to him. You may not know this, but he was a reserve captain in the 42nd Foot, Third Battalion of the Royal Highland Regiment of Scots. He was a participant in the battle of Tel-el-Kebir in Egypt, and there, he received the Victoria Cross.”
“The Victoria Cross? That’s quite an honorable award,” Houser said. “What do you know about the two men who seem to be closest to him . . . the one called Elmer, and the Chinaman, Wang?”
Norton chuckled. “Elmer Gleason is quite an interesting character. He was in the war, fighting for the South, though I believe he was with one of the irregular units. After the war, he went to sea, visited China, Australia, England, France. You would never know by looking at him, but he is quite a well-traveled man. Then he left the sea, wound up living with the Indians for a while before he relocated here, where he found some gold, I don’t know how much, in what had been an abandoned mine. For a while people would see him so infrequently, that some began to think that he was a ghost. Shortly after Duff MacCallister arrived, Gleason went to work for him, but I think their relationship is more than just employer, employee. Gleason is a junior partner in the ranch, and there is a very strong bond of friendship between them.”
“And the Chinaman?”
“He is a more recent addition to Sky Meadow. The word is that Duff saved Wang’s life and, being a Chinaman, Wang sets a high value on honor and loyalty. It might also be good for you to know that Wang is quite skilled in some type of Chinese fighting technique, and it makes him quite formidable. But he is bound by his honor never to use his skills except in defense. I’m sure your questioning has to do with the little episode between Wang and some of your men.”
“You are aware of that?” Houser asked.
Norton chuckled. “Oh, my dear Mr. Houser, the entire town is aware of that. Fully a dozen witnessed the event, and all have testified that it was your men who started it. I do hope you don’t think you have a legal case against Wang.”
“No, I’m satisfied that, under the circumstances, legal action would come to naught.” Houser, who had been sitting in Norton’s office, stood and extended his hand. “Mr. Norton, I want to thank you for providing me with information about my neighbor. You have been most helpful.”