Boomtown (13 page)

“'Course, not all of Chang's ideas were successful. There was Chang's Dandruff Destroyer. It was supposed to get rid of dandruff—that it
did
. It also removed a person's hair. Very bad.

“There was the Chang BOOMerang. Throw it at crows to scare 'em out of your fields, and then it comes back to you. Unfortunately, there was a slight problem with the timing mechanism. Very, very bad.

“Then there was Chang's Bee Blaster Kit. It included a ten-foot pole and a long fuse so you could insert a blast pack into a bee's nest to scare 'em off. Chang had to give out quite a few refunds for that one. It was very,
very
bad.

“In spite of a few setbacks, most of Chang's inventions worked. Of course, in order to support all of his operations, he needed a steady supply of raw mate-rials. Chang stumbled onto a rich deposit of sulfur, leftover from volcano explosions in the area. The second ingredient—charcoal—he got by burning oak and hickory trees, which were all over the place, and Chang's neighbors were more than happy to donate ashes from their stoves and fireplaces. For the final ingredient, Chang demanded the highest-grade salt-peter. Chang got permission from the miners to gather bat guano from inside the mining caves that dotted these hills like rabbit warrens.

“Soon he was producing his own black powder out of a small barn on his property. It had two vats for distilling and a big grinding stone. But the more his inventions caught on, the more he needed to expand his operations. In a few years, his powder factory was the biggest business in the area, with demand for Chang's Super Rich Black Powder coming from the railroads, the military, and mining companies all over the country. An entire cottage industry sprung up around it: a dynamite-making business, a gun-smith and bullet-making company, and, of course, Chang's Famous Fireworks Factory, where some of the best fireworks in the world are still being made.

“It was at that point, in 1878, when the citizens, under the leadership of Councilman Alden Purdy, drew up the town charter and filed papers with the state applying for recognition as a duly formed township. In gratitude for the important contributions Chang had made, they wanted the new city to be named after him: Changville, Changton, or Chang City.

“But Chang refused. He was a shy man and didn't want the credit focused in his direction. He said, ‘We built this town together—not just one person, but
all
of us. Many thanks, but I don't want the town named after me.'

“That's when Councilman Purdy, soon to be Mayor Purdy, made a brilliant suggestion: ‘Let's add an “e” to the end of Chang's name and call the town
Change
.' Everyone agreed, and Change, Washington, was born on May 18, 1878.

“The town adopted the motto ‘Change Is for the Better' and the chicken as its official mascot. That's why you'll find a chicken on the egg-shaped town seal, encircled by the motto and holding two crossed sticks of dynamite in its claws. And in spite of his objections, you'll also find a statue of Chang erected in the middle of Town Square. It's out in front of the courthouse, with two chickens in his lap and one at his feet. And right there on the monument, you'll find these words carved in stone: ‘Chang, Founding Father of Change, Washington. September 8, 1830 – April 12, 1892.'”

Mr. Beedle fell silent and leaned back in his rocking chair and sipped his coffee. He noticed the look of confusion on my face. He was just waiting for me to ask the question he knew I was going to ask.

“This isn't Change, Washington. It's
Boomtown
. And it isn't on a hill. It's mostly flat. It doesn't fit your story.”

Paul smiled and said, “Well, young feller, that's a mystery, of course, since the only one who really knows what happened is Chang himself. He died on the same day the town of Change changed forever, so of course we can't ask
him
. You could ask Olaf Stevenson or maybe Klaus Kanderhoffen if you get the chance. They lived here back in those days.”

Sarah persisted. “But what happened? Why'd they change the name of the town?”

“Well, young lady, there's a couple of theories floating around, but here's what I think. It was way too dangerous to be storing the gunpowder and dynamite and fireworks and Hen Grenades and everything else Chang was making right out in the open. All you needed was a spark, and this whole town'd go up like a tinderbox!

“So Chang started stockpiling the inventory down in the caves and tunnels that were dug all over the place, like holes in Swiss cheese. It was a pretty good idea, seeing that there were miles and miles of tunnels down there, what with the mining for gold and then the digging for sulfur. Besides, it was as dry as a cigar box down under the ground.”

“That
was
a good idea!” Sarah said.

“Maybe so, maybe not. Some think another one of Chang's chickens got loose and went down into the tunnels. It got into a stockpile of POPcorn, and you remember what happened the first time! Chang went chasing after it as it flew from one cave into the next. The story goes that the chicken flew up onto a shelf and it started to cluck like crazy. When the bird got finished, there was a fresh new Hen Grenade. 'Course, it was
round
, so it started to roll down the shelf—Chang dove in there and almost caught it.

And then . . .”

“What? What happened?”

“Nothin'. The egg was a dud. It just bounced.”

“It didn't blow up?”

“Nope. But that's not the end of the story. Chang was so happy that he started jumping up and down and cheering. Scared the chicken half to death, and it laid another egg—BOOM! Up went the chicken. Up went the gunpowder. No more Chang.”

I looked out over the fields in front of us, as flat as the eye could see with hills rising up in the distance. “But you said this town was on top of a
hill
. We're in a valley.”

“That's what I said. It
used
to be on a hill, until that egg went kablooey. It set off a chain reaction. First the Hen Grenade, then the fireworks, then the dynamite, then the black powder, and all the sulfur and so on and so on—you get the picture. With all the explosives stored in the mining caves, it pretty much turned the hill inside out. Went up like a Roman candle—
whoosh!
Musta really been something to see.”

“You're pulling my leg, right?”

“Scouts' honor, Reverend! It was a real mess. Fortunately, no one else died in the blast, but it took more'n five years to rebuild everything. After that, they changed the name to Boomtown. You really should stop by the Boomtown Museum and take a look. And you oughta take a closer look at that purty statue of Chang in Town Square. There's a plaque beside it that tells some of the story.”

I glanced at my watch and saw that it was getting late. But there was still no sign of Mrs. Beedle. “I was hoping to talk to Corine today. You sure we can't smooth things over before we leave?”

Mr. Beedle squinted at me and said, “Well, Reverend, I'm sure you know your business better than
I
do, but some things don't
ever
get fixed. Try as hard as you want, Mrs.

Beedle may never come around. She's pretty stubborn.”

“I don't believe that. I like to think that you can fix any-thing if you try hard enough.”

Mr. Beedle shook his head. “You think so? I'm not so sure. But I'll tell you what. I haven't been to church in years, but I like you. I'll tell Corine that if she'll go back to church, I'll go with her. That oughta do it. She's been trying to save my sorry soul since before we was hitched. I'll see you this Sunday, Reverend, how's that sound?”

“Okay, sure. I guess so. Thank you, Paul,” I said, accepting his offer.

Sarah and I shook his hand and then waved good-bye from the car window as I drove away thinking about what he'd said. How was I any different than Corine? I could be as stubborn as a mule. I wanted everything to run smoothly. I wanted everything to be calm and predictable. I thought if everyone would just follow the rules and behave properly, then we'd all be at peace.

Was that fair? What if people couldn't be the way I wanted them to be? What if Paul was right? What if some things
couldn't
be worked out? Was there enough mercy in my world to make room for people who didn't fit?

As promised, Paul was in church that Sunday, and so was Corine (without a cane or walker, I might add). After church, we went out to lunch and then Paul took me into Town Square to take a closer look at the statue. There was Chang sitting on a chair, surrounded by chickens, with his name carved on the pedestal just like he'd told me. I hadn't noticed it before, but the town motto was inscribed underneath: CHANGE IS FOR THE BETTER.

I thought,
Maybe it is. Maybe I
ought to try it sometime.

CHAPTER 7

A Boomtown Christmas

O
n Mondays, I always try to get a slow start: Sleep in until 8:00 a.m. Kiss the kids good-bye on their way to school. Eat a light breakfast. Drink coffee. Read the paper. Walk to the church office. I love Mondays.

Janice was out the door ahead of me on her way to help some of the ladies decorate the sanctuary for Christmas. “Some of the decorations are in bad shape, so I suggested we get together and make some new ones. Wait until you see how they look!”

“It sounds like you and the ladies are getting along swim-mingly,” I said with my nose in the paper.

“Yes!” she answered cheerfully. “I missed that at our last church. I've got more friends now than I can count. I love it.”

“Mm-hm. That's nice, dear. Have fun.”

My attention was consumed by what I was reading in the
Stickville Times
. The main headline read: Rash of Robberies Continues. The article listed the items reportedly missing:

Fred Cotton's truck (disappeared during the storm)
Lazy Gunderson's fence (likewise)
Tom O'Grady's thresher (just the blades)
8 trees from the north end of André Soisson's property
2 bicycles from in front of Martin's Mercantile (gone in broad daylight)
42 railroad ties from the train yard, 300 feet of track Farmer Higgins's posthole digger
600 feet of Christmas lights (off the trees in front of the courthouse)
Miscellaneous pickaxes, shovels, and pry bars

Not to mention that my lawn mower was still missing!

No explanation was given in the article. No eyewitnesses. No clues. No suspects. Mayor Tanaka of Boomtown and Mayor Touissaint of Stickville formed a joint task force and authorized Sheriff Burton Ernie to deputize as many men as he needed in order to bring the crime spree to an end. Everyone was encouraged to be on the lookout for the “criminal or gang of thieves who may or may not be armed and dangerous.”

Sheriff Ernie attended our church, and in public he was shocked and dismayed over these seemingly random robberies. In private, he was as thrilled as a man could possibly be. After all, the worst thing that ever happened in Boomtown was mailboxes being blown up by teenagers, which, quite frankly, was encouraged. There was an occasional speeding ticket, a few jaywalkers, and the random fire caused by errant fireworks. Other than that, Boomtown was as quiet as a church (not
our
church, of course) as far as crime was concerned.