"Why you not eat, Mr. Cartwright?" Hop-Sing inquired, his thick accent rife with concern.
The silver-haired man looked up at his cook with a puzzled expression. While he was physically seated in the same room as Hop-Sing, his thoughts had taken him a million miles away. It took a minute to comprehend the questions being asked of him.
"I'm not very hungry today. Sorry Hop-Sing," Ben Murmured, staring absently into the remains of half a cup of coffee.
"You no like Hop Sing's breakfast?" Came the cooks injured response.
"No, no. I love your cooking Hop-Sing. It's not that," Ben breathed, lifting his gentle gaze upwards.
As Hop-Sing sulked into the kitchen sputtering in Chinese, Hoss entered the dining room and sat down at the table.
"Hey Pa, what is wrong with Hop-Sing?" He questioned, readily grabbing his fork and knife.
"Oh, he feels insulted because I didn't eat much this morning," Ben timidly confessed.
Hoss's jaw dropped in astonishment as he eyed his father. Then with a concerned tone he asked, "Is something bothering you, Pa?"
Ben gingerly put down his coffee cup and folded his hands on the table. "Joe was supposed to be back hours ago. I'm afraid he may have gotten himself in some trouble between here and Virginia City." Ben confessed.
"You don't think he ran into those outlaws, do you?" Hoss asked as Hop-Sing placed the hot breakfast before him.
"I don't know, Hoss. I just don't know." The father answered.
