Boomtown

by Nowen N. Particular

  “But you must understand. My family has lived under the cloud of suspicion for generations. We were afraid of the government, afraid of the spies, even afraid of our neighbors who might accidentally whisper our secrets to the wrong person. We have lived as virtual prisoners in our own village and had forgotten how to trust. When I made my way here to Boomtown, I did not know what else to think. So I hid myself away and came out only at night to gather supplies and equipment and to dump the dirt from the tunnel. The boys brought me food. Their help and trust should have been enough to convince me that the people of Boomtown would have done the same. I am very sorry.”

  Mr. Rigdale nodded. “Yes, it’s true that a considerable amount of trouble and misunderstanding could have been avoided if you had simply announced your arrival and asked for help. The tunnel you mentioned could have been dug in days—not months. And the Reverend Button could have avoided yet another death-defying adventure in his considerably dangerous life.”

  “I see that now.”

  “Very well. That brings us to the nature of this most interesting tunnel you have worked so hard to dig. What can you tell us about that?”

  “When I came, I did not expect that I would have to dig. You understand, Chang died in the explosion that turned this town inside out. He was not able to send another letter explaining what had changed, because he was dead. The map he sent along with his last letter gave instructions, but those instructions were based on tunnels that no longer existed. They were buried in the explosion. I had to dig out the old tunnels, starting from the fireworks factory and leading toward Town Square, as you already know. This took far more time than I had planned; even though some sections were still open, much of the tunnel had collapsed and filled in. I expected to find what my great-grandfather left behind. Instead, it became necessary for me to dig—something that has taken almost nine months to finish.”

  “So you admit that it was you and only you who should be held responsible?”

  “Yes,” Xian confessed. “Don’t blame the boys. I was the one who took the truck. I was the one who took the wood and the wire and the tools and the lights and more. None of it would have been necessary if I had asked for help. I have never known people like the ones who live here.”

  Horatio Hooke didn’t seem to care about the generous citizens of Boomtown. By the look on his face, you could tell he was congratulating himself. The defendant had just confessed under oath in front of a thousand witnesses. The judge and the jury had heard him say it. As far as he was concerned, a conviction was guaranteed and so was his future as governor of Washington. After that, who knows? A senator and maybe even president of the United States? I watched him rub his hands together as he dreamed about the possibilities.

  Mr. Rigdale continued. “Then it was never your intention to hurt anyone? Never your intention to harm Reverend Button? Never your intention to rob the bank, as our illustrious prosecutor has suggested?”

  “No! Never! I was not digging the tunnel to reach the bank. I was looking for something else.”

  “Does the letter tell us what that might be?”

  “The map and the letter. Yes, they do.”

  “Please read it for the court.”

  Xian reached into his pocket and pulled out the letter. Mr. Rigdale handed him the lost page. It matched the others, wrinkled and yellowed with age, folded many times but otherwise lovingly preserved. For Xian, it was the final link in a chain that connected him to his famous ancestor—a man, as it turned out, no one really knew or under-stood. Chang had been a man with a thousand secrets and a deep sadness that he’d never shared with his friends in Boomtown. Xian held the pages in his trembling hand and began to read the letter:

  “My dearest son, a man came to town today. He came from China, from a village near our own. He told me about the arrest and death of my father. He told me that my beloved wife has died. Then he told me about you, my son Wang, about whom I knew nothing until now.If I had known, I would have crawled back to China on my knees to be with you.

  “The man warned me of how the government has seized my letters and spied on our family. They have waited for my return to arrest me as an enemy of the state. I am ashamed of my fear but have decided to gamble on your ability to escape as I did. The man has agreed to carry this letter and a large sum of money back to China.I have paid him handsomely to help you and your wife and children to buy safe passage to America. Here you may finally find freedom from tyranny. Come as soon as you are able.

  “Should I die before you arrive, it will be with regret and tears.But all is not lost. I have drawn a map that shows the way to a secret chamber. Hidden there is a treasure—half is for your family;the other half must be shared equally with every man, woman, and child of my adopted home. I love them as if they were my own—in the same way they have loved me.

  “If you come and I am gone, you must follow the directions I have given. Find the treasure that remains secret to this day. Mention this to no one on your journey, though you may trust my friends in Change. I can only hope this gift will make up for my fearful neglect. bEven so, nothing can repay a son for the absence of his father. I pray this letter finds its way to your hand with love and honor, your father, Chang.”

  The assembled crowd remained frozen like statues during the reading of the letter, but as soon as Xian finished they burst like a thunderstorm in spring. Everyone was talking at once. Photographers snapped flash photos. Reporters yelled into their microphones. Film crews recorded the pandemonium. Horatio Hooke shouted his objections. The judge pounded her gavel. George Rigdale smiled in satisfaction. Xian sat back in his chair and sighed with relief.

  “Order!” cried Judge Rodriguez. “I will have order in this court!”

  But no one listened. The bailiff shouted. The reporters reported. The jury clapped. Horatio Hooke called for a mistrial. Even the usually reserved George Rigdale stood up on a chair and tried to shout over the uproar, but even he was unable to regain control. More than five minutes passed before Judge Rodriguez restored order.

  She pointed her gavel at Xian and asked the question that was uppermost in everyone’s mind. “This so-called treasure, Mr. Xian, the one mentioned in the letter, the one for which you have so diligently searched—did you find it?”

  Dead silence. Followed shortly by his disappointed answer, “No. It is just as Jonny said. I didn’t find it. It wasn’t there.”

  Shocked silence. Followed shortly by a shout coming from the back of the tent, “He didn’t find it—but we did!”

  At the sound, everybody’s heads spun around to look. In marched a parade of boys, covered with dirt and mud from head to toe, about ten of them marching up the center aisle directly to the witness stand where all could see. Leading the way was Jonny, bent over at the waist and struggling to carry something heavy, wrapped in a muddy strip of canvas. He stumbled to the front, dropped the bundle on the railing of the witness stand, and nearly collapsed from the effort.

  Horatio Hooke bellowed over the tumult of murmuring spectators, “I object! I object! These boys have no official business in front of this court. The case goes to the jury! Xian is guilty! I win! Get these filthy urchins out of here!”

  But no one cared what Horatio had to say. Because at a nod from Jonny, Busy reached over and unwrapped the package sitting on the rail. After that there was nothing left to discuss. Lying on the rag, gleaming yellow in the late-morning sun, was a solid bar of the most beautiful gold you’ve ever seen, as big as two fists and worth a small fortune. It looked like it could weigh as much as fifty pounds!

  Then Jonny shouted triumphantly over the ensuing chaos, “There’s more where that came from! A lot more!”

  The judge smiled and banged her gavel. “Case dismissed!”

  CHAPTER 18

  Farewell for Now

  About a month later, we were packing to leave for Seattle. I’d been offered a pulpit in the city and accepted—but not before days and days of crying and complaining on the part of
my family.

  I could hardly blame them. In the short time we’d been residents of Boomtown, they’d fallen in love with the people just as the townspeople had fallen in love with us. This is where Holly had joined our family. This is where Janice had found so many new friends, but not half as many as Ruth, Jonny, and Sarah. They didn’t want to leave; of course they didn’t want to leave! Boomtown was a playground, the perfect place for a kid to grow up. Every day was a new adventure.

  No, it wasn’t Janice or the kids. I was the one with the problem. It was during a morning in late August when I made up my mind. I stood in the window of our front room staring blindly at the turning leaves. I counted the buttons on my favorite sweater, over and over again, absently repeating the poem I made up in my head:

  One—This isn’t any fun;

  Two—What should I do?

  Three—Why is it me?

  Four—I can’t take any more.

  Five—I’m lucky to be alive.

  Six—I’m in a tight fix.

  Seven . . .

  I stopped and looked down. The seventh button on my sweater had popped off. It was lying in my hand, staring up at me like an omen of things to come.

  “Seven,” I murmured. “Time to go to heaven.” That was the final straw.

  The next morning we held a family meeting. I sat at the head of the table with my temples throbbing and surrounded by hostile faces.

  “Dad! We can’t go. What about my friends?” Jonny was almost on the verge of tears.

  “You’ll make new friends in Seattle.”

  “I graduate from high school this coming year,” Ruth said. “I just got a job at the Boomtown Bookstore. I was saving money for college.”

  “I know that, dear. I’m really sorry.”

  Sarah kicked my shin under the table.

  “Ow! Sarah! ”

  “It’s not fair! I’m starting the sixth grade. I get to build a rocket this year.”

  “Janice, help me out here.”

  “What do you want me to say? I’ve made a lot of friends too. That’s always been hard for me, being the pastor’s wife, to make any real friends. People always treat me differently, especially other women. But not here in Boomtown. They’ve helped me fit in. I love it here. So do the kids.”

  “But just look at me! Red circles under my eyes. Face as white as a sheet. I can’t eat. I can’t sleep. I’m afraid to go out-side. I’m afraid to stay inside.”

  I held out my hand. It twitched like the last leaf on a winter branch.

  “Just the other day, I was in my office at the church and Ingrid dropped a stapler. A stapler! I hid under my desk like a frightened rabbit. It took Ingrid thirty minutes to coax me out of there.”

  Janice was sympathetic and patted my hand. “I know, dear. Things have been hard on you. But look at the bright side. Other than a sprained wrist, you’ve never really been badly hurt.”

  “Are you kidding? I’ve been knocked unconscious twice. You’ve almost been a widow six times! We’ve got a new baby and three other children. What are you going to do if a tree drops on my head? What if I fall down the stairs and break my neck? What about a tornado or a stampede?”

  “Now you’re just being silly. Boomtown has never had a tornado.”

  “There’s always a first time.”

  We spent hours arguing about it, but I wouldn’t listen. I wanted to tell them what I was really feeling, but I didn’t know how. I thought after the trial things would be different for me, but as the days went by, I regressed backward into my earlier trepidations. What could I say? I was embarrassed by my fears.

  I was supposed to be a man of faith; I preached about courage and facing life’s troubles; but all I could think about was running away. So when a congregation in Seattle called, I jumped at the chance. They’d heard about me because of the publicity surrounding the trial and begged me to accept. Of course, the search committee from Boomtown Church was very upset. I met with them after my final Sunday and we talked.

  “I’m really sorry. It has nothing to do with any of you. We love Boomtown and all the members of our church. But I’ve got to leave—before I can’t.”

  “But, Reverend, we were just starting to get used to you! It was hard at first, but now we can’t get along without you. We’ve never had this much excitement in our church before.”

  “That’s exactly why I’m going. Too much excitement! I was chased by a rocket, nearly crushed by a barber chair, blown up by Santa Claus, mangled by a runaway bicycle, shot by a bank robber, and buried alive in a cave-in. My heart can’t take it anymore!”

  “But what are we going to do?”

  “Look at it this way. You shouldn’t have any trouble finding a new minister, not with all the fame and fortune you’re enjoying. Besides, you’ll have broken the curse. I’ll be the first minister in seventy years who’s walked out of the building instead of being carried out! Just think what that will mean to the next minister you find.”

  “Hey, you’re right!”

  As soon as they started thinking about it that way, they felt much better and were ready to start looking. They finally hung my picture up in the hallway with a plaque underneath that said “Served 1949–1950, Still Alive and Kicking.” They threw a going-away dinner in the park attended by nearly every person in town. All of our new friends were there: Burton Ernie, Helga, Gramma Edna, Matthieu and his thirteen kids, the Beedles, Fred Cotton, Lazy Gunderson, Walter the Butcher, even Denk and his children. They all came out to say good-bye. Reverend Platz and Reverend Tinker said a prayer. Everyone shook hands and we all cried and laughed and told stories about everything that had happened.

  Of course, I’ve forgotten to say what happened after the trial, what Jonny found in the tunnel, and what happened with Xian. So here are the final details, and then I’m finished.

  All charges were immediately dropped against Xian; that should come as no surprise. After the gold was found, no one was willing to prosecute. Xian was set free, and Mayor Tanaka gave him the key to the city.

  Horatio Hooke gave up his dreams of a life in politics and went back to Stickville to prosecute parking tickets. I don’t think he ever got over the humiliation and disappointment. He nursed a grudge against Boomtown from that day forward. It came back to haunt the town, but that happened years later.

  George Rigdale tried to fade back into anonymity, but the newspapers and radio stations wouldn’t leave him alone. There was talk about nominating him for governor. A parking space was reserved with his name in front of the Boomtown courthouse for whenever he stopped by for a visit. He was a frequent visitor at Mabel’s Diner.

  Burton Ernie became famous as the lawman who cracked the case, even though the only thing he’d really done was drink bad coffee and drive around town looking for clues. He did, however, organize the digging crew that pulled Chang’s statue out of the hole and clear all the debris from the chamber that lay hidden underneath. All those years, and no one knew a massive fortune had been right under their feet waiting to be discovered.

  Xian explained what some of the other letters had revealed, that Chang had stumbled across a large vein of gold while digging for sulfur. He kept the discovery secret because he knew what would happen if word spread that gold had been found under the streets of Boomtown. It would trigger another gold rush. Fortune hunters would flock to the area like crows in a cornfield. They would bring guns and liquor and gambling and corruption along with their insatiable appetite for wealth—something Chang would not allow. So he kept his discovery secret as a way of saving the home he loved.

  He sealed off the entrance to the tunnel and allowed the trees and bushes to overgrow the abandoned warehouse. He told no one about his discovery. Instead, over the years he continued to mine the gold and refine it in secret, storing the growing treasure in the hidden chamber.

  When Chang found out he had a son and grandchildren living in China, he dreamed of the day they would come to claim his family’s fortune—but he didn’
t live to see it. He was killed in the explosion that turned Boomtown upside down. It buried the tunnel and his secret. It lay hidden for almost sixty years until Xian came and tried to dig it up.

  Jonny explained what had happened on the night of the first day of the trial.

  “Busy and me wanted to take one more look in the tunnel, just in case we missed something. We got all the guys together and decided to sneak out that night.”

  “I really wish you’d stop doing that, Jon, I really do,” I sighed.

  “Sorry, Dad, but it worked out, didn’t it?”

  “That’s not the point.”

  “Okay. So anyway, we used Chang’s statue like a ladder and climbed down into the hole. We were looking for maybe another door, maybe another place where Chang could have hidden the treasure. It was dark, but we had flashlights and shovels if we needed them. But we didn’t find anything and pretty soon it was morning.

  “When the sun came up, it shone on the back side of the hole, right on the note Chang had painted on the wall. We couldn’t read it, but we saw something we hadn’t seen in the dark. It was covered in mud until we wiped away some of the dirt. It was a gold medallion with a picture of Chang on it.”

  “Busy had a jackknife and he tried to pry it out of the wall, but instead it pushed in, like a button! The whole wall opened up—swung open like a gate! And that’s when we found it!”

  The “it” Jonny and his friends had found was a huge pile of gold bricks—more than a person can even imagine. Over the years, Chang had managed to assemble nearly five tons of gold—almost two hundred gold bricks weighing fifty pounds apiece. In 1950, gold was selling at an average of $35 an ounce; that’s about $560 a pound. That made the total fortune worth more than five million dollars!

  Xian honored Chang’s wishes. He kept half of the money for his family; they were already on a ship to America to join their incredibly wealthy father. The rest of the money was divided evenly among the remaining eleven hundred seventeen residents of Boomtown. It put a total of $2,506 into the pockets of every man, woman, and child who lived in the town. My family collected more than $15,000. It was the money we used to move to Seattle, buy a house, and put Ruth through college. Needless to say, things were booming in Boomtown!