The Great Sand Fracas of Ames County (24 page)

The more Marilyn thought about the situation, the more agitated she became. But Marilyn wasn't one to just sit around and let things happen; it was her style to make things happen. She pulled on her clothes, jumped in her black Cadillac Escalade, and headed to the park. She had to know what had happened and once she did, she'd decide what steps to take.

A
mbrose Adler had gotten up early that morning and was looking out his kitchen window when he saw a flash of light in the east and then heard a loud explosion followed by its echo. He'd never heard anything like it before. He snapped on his battery-operated radio and tuned it to WWRI, the station in Willow River.

Earl Wade, the early morning announcer, broke into one of Willie Nelson's tunes with a special announcement. “I just learned that there's been a loud explosion and a fire in Link Lake. The explosion apparently took place in the Increase Joseph Community Park on the edge of town. A part of the park was recently leased to the Alstage Sand Mining Company of La Crosse. So far there are few details, but apparently no one was injured in the blast. When we learn more, we'll share it.” Willie Nelson came back on singing “On the Road Again,” one of Earl's favorite early morning tunes.

Wonder what happened
, thought Ambrose as he fired up his wood-burning cookstove, pulled the cast iron skillet from the oven where he stored it, and dropped in a hunk of butter, which began to sizzle as the fire warmed the stove top. He cracked a couple of eggs into the skillet and dropped in a few slices of smoked bacon. As he sat at his kitchen table, looking out over the fields where cattle once grazed, he continued listening to Earl and the early morning radio show. He wasn't a great fan of country music, but he tuned in the local station for the news and the weather. And Earl was good about keeping up with the news.

“I've got a little more information for you folks wondering about the explosion and fire over at Link Lake,” Earl interrupted the music again. “Apparently a drilling machine belonging to the Alstage Sand Mining Company exploded and caused a fire that the Link Lake Volunteer Fire Department quickly extinguished. The cause of the explosion is not known. Fire Chief Henry Watkins has a couple of theories. He said there could have been a gas leak in the machine, which could have caused the blast. Or someone could have placed an explosive device on the machine. Henry said to remind our listeners that since the Link Lake Village Board approved the development of a sand mine in the park, lots of folks have been upset, none more than members of the Link Lake Historical Society. When I have more information, I will share it.”

Ambrose sat back in his chair, running his fingers through his white hair. He was beginning to have second thoughts about his recent Stony Field column applauding the activities of those protesting the opening of the mine. He sincerely hoped that this had not been the trigger, but he also knew that there was always somebody out there willing to go too far, to take violent action in a misguided belief that what they were doing was the right thing to do. He made no mention in his column of taking any violent action or doing anything illegal. His motto was stand up for what you believe, but do it within the law.

He wondered what was really the cause of the blast that destroyed the Alstage drilling machine. Surely it couldn't be a member of the Link Lake Historical Society or one of the neighboring historical societies who had done it. Or could it? Ambrose thought he'd stop by the museum and talk with Emily Higgins when he went to Link Lake for supplies later in the day. If anyone had an idea of what happened in the park this early morning, she would.

Later that morning, when Ambrose was working in his garden, digging potatoes for his vegetable stand, he saw the Link Lake police cruiser pull into his yard. His mind immediately went into panic mode—someone had discovered that he was Stony Field and he was about to be interrogated about the blast at the park, maybe even arrested.

The young police officer got out of his car and walked toward the garden where Ambrose was working.

“You're Ambrose Adler?” the officer asked.

“Y . . . yes I am,” stuttered Ambrose.

“Somebody told me that you understand wild animals. Is that so?” The young officer was very serious. Ambrose immediately wondered if he had broken some law concerning his pet raccoon.

“I . . . I've been told that,” stammered Ambrose, taking his red handkerchief from his pocket and wiping the sweat from his brow.

“We've got a problem that I'm told you can help us with.”

“W . . . hat kind of problem?”

“You hear about the explosion in the park early this morning?”

“I did,” said Ambrose.

“Besides blowing up a mining machine, the blast blew apart the big bald eagle nest. Killed the big eagles, killed one of the little eagles, and injured the other little one. Blew up the eagle cam too.”

“T . . . terrible,” said Ambrose.

“I was hoping you could take care of the little eagle until the Fish and Wildlife Service gets here and they can decide what to do with it.”

“Sure,” said Ambrose, relieved that he now knew the real reason for the officer's visit.

Together they walked to the squad car and the officer removed a box from the backseat, where Ambrose saw a mostly grown bald eagle with one wing that appeared broken. He handed the box to Ambrose.

“Thank you for helping us out. We'll be in touch once I hear from the federal folks, who should be here in a few days. There's a big fine for killing an eagle, you know. They'll want to find out who the culprit is.”

Ambrose took the little eagle into his house and gently removed it from the box, talking to it all the time. At first the eagle struggled to get away, but as Ambrose talked to it, it calmed down and he was able to examine it. It indeed had a broken wing. Ambrose fashioned a splint for the wing and bandaged it. Then he put it back in the box and went into his office, where he spent an hour reading about eagles and especially what baby eagles ate.

He decided not to open his vegetable stand that afternoon. He needed to find out more about what was going on, what caused the explosion at the park, and who or what might have been responsible.

He stopped at the museum to talk with Emily Higgins. She said, “I'm certain no one from the Link Lake Historical Society had anything to do with the blast.” Then she went on at length to lament the loss of three eagles and the camera. “People really liked watching that eagle cam,” she said.

Ambrose told her that he was taking care of the injured eagle and asked her if she had any idea what caused the blast.

“Deputy from the sheriff 's office said it was definitely a bomb and a good-sized one too. Pieces of the drilling machine were found a hundred yards from the site of the explosion. It's not going to help our cause one bit,” said Emily. “What it will do is turn more people toward favoring the mining company. I heard that the machine that was blown up cost more than a million dollars.”

“That much?” said Ambrose.

“Funny thing about it, the machine was far enough away from the Trail Marker Oak that the tree wasn't even scratched. Maybe that's a good sign of things to come.”

The two old friends talked for a time about what they should do. Emily said that she hoped that Stony Field would write about something else for a while—to take some of the spotlight away from Link Lake. Ambrose agreed that it would be a good idea.

“But how can we get in touch with Mr. Field? Nobody seems to know where he lives.”

Ambrose didn't comment, but to himself he was smiling and thinking,
If I ever get around to sharing that I'm Stony Field, Emily Higgins will be one of those most surprised.

41

E
merson Evans made record time driving from La Crosse to Link Lake. He was furious about what had happened at the mining site. How could anyone explain why a million-dollar drilling machine had been destroyed by some overzealous opponent of sand mining? And why had Karl Adams failed so miserably in placating the community, in bringing them around to supporting the upcoming mining operation? He needed answers and he needed them right away. His superiors in La Crosse were not happy, especially after receiving reports of how well everything was going in Link Lake and after pouring several thousand dollars into the community.

When Evans pulled up to the mining site, he spotted several police cars and yellow tape closing off the entrance to the park. Karl Adams got out of his car when he saw Evans arrive.

“What in hell is going on here?” asked Evans, a tall, thin, very intense man. There was no “good morning” or “how are you, Karl?”

“I don't know. Everything was cool until the drilling machine arrived— then all hell broke loose.”

“So who blew up our million-dollar drilling machine? They caught the bomber yet?”

“No, they haven't. The sheriff is right over there.” Karl pointed to a police cruiser with Sheriff written on the side. “Talk to him.”

“You damn bet I will, but I'm talking to you first. Just what in the hell is going on here? You got any ideas? You're supposed to have your finger on the pulse of this community.”

“I thought everything was under control.”

“You thought. You thought! We pay you to know, not to think. So how did it all go down?” Evans was a little less red in the face, and his voice had come down from the near yelling he was doing when he first stepped from his car.

“Ever since the deal was struck between Alstage and the Link Lake Village Board, a half dozen or so protestors were marching in front of this park entrance every day. It seemed the locals mostly ignored them. Nobody seemed to know who they were, and everyone assumed they were some wide-eyed liberals from Madison who didn't have anything better to do.”

“I get that part. We have protestors of one kind or another at nearly all of our proposed mine sites. But they usually don't blow up million-dollar mining machines.”

“Nobody has said the protestors blew up the machine.”

“Well, who else would? Tell me what else you know.”

“Like I said, once people learned that a big machine had arrived, everything changed. Everywhere I went in the community, people were talking again about the mine and the fact that it looked like it was a sure thing that it would open in the park.”

“Well, talk doesn't blow up a machine.”

“I realize that, but right after the machine arrived someone defaced the big map of the mine site I put on the bulletin board at the village hall. And then the number of protestors grew to twenty or more.”

“Then what?”

“Kaboom, was the next what,” Karl said. “It shook the whole town, rattled the windows, and rattled a lot of nerves too. The explosion woke me up.”

“The explosion also blew up a million-dollar machine,” Evans said under his breath.

“Oh, and then there's the eagle nest,” Karl said.

“Yeah, I remember. Blast blew the eagle nest all to hell and killed some eagles. You told me all that before. What I'm worried about is when those federal Fish and Wildlife people get here and start nosing around. Any feds here yet?”

“Not that I know about. I heard the injured eagle is being cared for by an old vegetable farmer who lives just out of town. An old guy who stutters and talks to animals. Met him once. Interesting guy,” said Karl.

“Well, that's great,” Evans said sarcastically.

“So what are we going to do about all this?” asked Karl.

“You're supposed to be our man on the ground. Don't you have an idea?”

“Well, I'd suggest we call a community meeting and explain everything that we know—we are the victims here, you know. On the plus side of this mess, blowing up one of our machines and killing some bald eagles might be just what we need to bring some of those people who opposed the mine to our side of the table. This should surely tip the fence-sitters in our direction,” said Karl.

Evans was quiet for a bit, pondering what Karl had just said.

“That's the smartest thing you've said since I got here. I think you're right. We are the victims here. Nobody condones destroying private property. Let's make the most of what surely looks like a miserable situation on the surface,” said Evans. He even had a hint of smile on his face.

Later that afternoon, Karl and Evans met with Marilyn Jones and Mayor Jessup to discuss their next steps. The mayor was especially agitated by all that was happening in his little, once quiet and peaceful town. Wringing his hands, he said several times, “Nothing like this has ever happened in Link Lake before.” Obviously he didn't remember the story of the bank robbery back in 1900.

Marilyn Jones, with a steely look in her eye, said, “I think we should face this head on. We may be a small town, but we're also a tough town. Do you guys have a plan?” She was looking at Karl Adams and Emerson Evans.