Boomtown (34 page)

“Do you have that note with you today?”

“I do.”

“Your Honor, I wish to enter into evidence this note written by an associate of Xian's father.”

Judge Rodriguez asked, “Any objections from the prosecution?”

Horatio Hooke approached the bench and took the letter from Xian's hand. “This note is written in
Chinese
. How can we verify what it actually says? As far as we know, it could be a fabrication by the witness, a fakery to go along with all of his other lies.”

The judge answered, “For the time being let us assume it is genuine and that Xian will read it accurately. If you find anything damaging to your case in the letter, you may object at that time. Agreed?”

Mr. Hooke reluctantly withdrew his objection and marched back to his seat.

“Please continue, Mr. Rigdale.”

The defense attorney faced his witness. “Will you please read the letter at this time?”

Xian began to read:

“
Dear friends, after many years of careful searching I was finally
able to locate the sealed records of your ancestor, Chang. They were
locked in a basement vault where until recently I was forbidden to
go. Buried among the other documents, I discovered a collection of
letters written by Chang and sent to his family over the years, seized
by the government and locked away until now. I was afraid to take
them all at once. So each week for a year I secreted a single letter
inside the lining of my hat and carried them one by one out of the
government building and to my small apartment where I have kept
them hidden until now. I am risking my life delivering these letters
to you, so I ask that you remember me with favor if the letters
should prove to be of any value. Until then, I remain your friend,
anonymously.”

Mr. Rigdale waited patiently while Xian took a moment to take a sip of water and collect his thoughts. After a few moments of tense silence, the lawyer continued his questioning. “Did the letters prove to be of any importance?”

“Yes, they did. Our family finally learned what had happened to my great-grandfather. The letters told us about his escape from China and how he sailed to India and how he went from there on foot across Europe. He sailed from France working as a cook aboard a tramp steamer bound for America.

“He arrived in New York, where he learned of the Gold Rush. Like many Chinese, he was hired to help build the railroads to the West. The people of Boomtown know this part of his story—how he worked his way across the country, turned north when he reached California, and arrived here in Washington. His letters described a beautiful place of mountains and streams and wonderful, kind people who adopted him as their own son. He wrote about his many friends here, and I am ashamed that I did not trust them as he told me I should.”

Mr. Rigdale held up a sheet of paper. “You are referring, of course, to the last page of the letter that was found down by the river by Denk and turned over to Sheriff Burton Ernie?”

“Yes. I dropped the page during one of my nightly raids.”

“Do you have the rest of the letter in your possession?”

“I do.”

“Are you prepared to read the letter here and now in front of this jury?”

“Yes, I am.”

“Before you do, I have a few more questions, just for clarification. You said you did not
trust
the people of this town?”

“This is not their fault. I should have announced myself as soon as I arrived in Boomtown. I see now that I would have received a graceful welcome. I have been treated well as a guest of the sheriff in his very pleasant jail cell. Many admirable people have visited me every day. They have given me a comfortable bed to sleep in with fresh linens every morning. Mabel from the diner brings me terrible coffee for breakfast; Mrs. Kreuger brings me delicious sandwiches for lunch; the women from the Boomtown churches bring me supper at night. My Chinese countrymen have visited me frequently from the fireworks factory. I could not have been treated more kindly or with such courteous respect if I were a visiting king.”

“And your justification for stealing supplies and equipment from around town? Your reasons for involving the boys in your secret activities? What could that be?”

“This is the thing I am most sorry about. I shouldn't have stolen anything. I shouldn't have gotten the boys involved.

“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.
b
Even 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