Jack Westchester had managed to win the mayoral race in Johnstown by a mere fifteen votes. Most people had believed he was a long shot, including City Council President Leslie Callaway and local factory owner Adam Lucas. They both had extensive plans for the city over the next four years and spent all of their time trying to sell their own as the best. Jack did not have a big plan, but instead based his campaign on the fact that one of his ancestors had been the founder of the city. He said it gave him a personal stake in the future of the city. That personal stake sounded different than the usual politics, so he got the votes.

Although he did not have a plan that he made available to the public, he certainly had his own personal agenda. One part of which was a development project that had been tied up for nearly a decade between the Johnstown City Council and the Missouri EPA. After becoming mayor, he gained leverage with the council and worked some back room deals in Jefferson City. All these things were swimming through his mind when the gravel along the edge of Ballpark Drive began to pop and crack. He had driven to this spot so many times that his white four-wheel drive pickup practically drove itself there.

The emblem of the City of Johnstown covered most of the driver's side door. Jack just sat behind the wheel with a huge smile on his face. He was looking toward the crew of construction workers bustling around a small, yellow house at the top of a short rise.

"Good things do come to those who wait," he said to himself before looking in the mirror on the back of his visor. He inspected his gelled black hair, wanting to make sure that each strand was in its perfect place. His bright blue eyes gave a little twinkle as he thought about the great day he was about to have.

Jack got out of his truck and put on his golden hard hat. He looked like a millionaire investor and that was exactly what he wanted. He observed several pieces of construction equipment that were moving about the property, completing various tasks. He was also pleased to see a semi with a long flatbed trailer bearing 'Wide Load' signs sitting along Westchester Road in front of the house, blocking one lane of traffic. Each piece of equipment was yellow and had the name Freemantle painted on the side.

He took his time walking up the little hill and across what had been the lawn of the small house. He wanted everyone to see him, but he stopped a few feet from two men who were intently studying some plans. Each of the workers at the site had white hardhats, except one. He wore a black hardhat and was the first to acknowledge the mayor's arrival.

"Good morning, Mayor Westchester!" stated the man in the black hat as he walked away from the worker holding the plans.

"Good morning, Mr. Crandle," the mayor said. "I insist that you call me Jack, though."

"Then you will have to call me Frank," he said with a wide grin, shaking the mayor's hand.

"That's a deal," Jack replied. "Now, how are things looking today? The weather seems perfect for the move."

"I agree and we should be on our way by mid-afternoon. Definitely before traffic picks up around four thirty."

"That is very good news. It is a great day for Johnstown. This area has developed well over the last two decades and my great great great grandfather, John Westchester, would be glad to know his homeplace will be getting a much better location."

"Pretty amazing that you got the deal done to move the house," Frank said. "State Historical Site and all the paperwork that goes with it."

"Well," Jack said with a grin and a wink, "it took almost a year and a half. Lots of favors in Jefferson City were called in and the city had to set aside land for the house to be relocated to."

"Progress!" Frank said.

"Yes, it certainly is. This property has been in demand for a long time and now the deal is almost done. Five acres along one of the busiest thoroughfares in west St Louis County is almost unheard of these days. Missouri National Bank made an offer that I, as the head of the corporation that owns the property, could not reject."

"That's awesome."

"New Johnstown Park will be a great place to display the home and the bank gets a fantastic new branch. Johnstown wins all around," Jack said with a grin, thinking of the fact that he would be two million dollars richer as soon as the bank took ownership of the property in a few days.

"Things are going smoothly today. We just need to put a few more beams in place to lift the house and bring the crane in. After that, we will put the house on the truck and be on our way. The new foundation over at the park is ready, so the house should be resting peacefully by nightfall."

"Wonderful," Jack said. "Mind if I hang around for a bit?"

"Sure thing. The crane will be here in an hour if you want to see that process."

"I've got a meeting about that time, but I'll watch them put the beams in."

"Enjoy. I'm going to get back to work," Frank said and Jack nodded.

Frank made his way over to two men looking over the construction plans, which were tacked to a piece of plywood on a pair of sawhorses. They were smiling and gave every appearance that things were going as predicted. One of the men, Grant Frazier, was gesturing toward the porch at the back of the house, where three more beams were lined up. Putting those in place and then connecting the beams so that the crane could pick the house up was all that remained.

Jack watched them for a moment and then walked north to a white Ford truck with the name Freemantle painted on it. He opened the passenger door, dusted off the already spotless seat, and sat down. He watched the workers bustle around, but he only saw them as the necessary steps to making his fortune.

"Less than a month," he said to himself as he pulled his cell from his shirt pocket. He began scrolling through a long list of emails as he waited.

Ten minutes later, the crew had positioned the last three beams. One man was crawling under the porch with a steel cable in tow. A Bobcat waited on the east side to pull the beam, while a backhoe pushed from the west. The revving of engines brought Jack's attention back to the task at hand.

"Let's go!" Frank yelled into his radio and the cable under the porch went taut.

The backhoe started pushing with its bucket and the beam slid smoothly under the porch, leaving about three inches to spare. Frank started clapping and the backhoe moved to the next beam. A few minutes later, the worker scrambled back under the house with the cable to prepare the next placement. Jack noticed that a few others were busy bolting the beams under the main part of the house together, bringing another broad smile to his face.

"Two to go!" Frank called into his radio and the process started again. The beam slipped along for a few feet and then there was a hollow thud and the beam jumped suddenly. A loud crack like lightning came from under the house and Frank started waving his hands. The backhoe stopped immediately and the cable went slack a moment later.

"What was that?" the backhoe driver yelled as he killed the engine on his machine.

Frank was not one to wait around, so he got down on his hands and knees to take a look. He could see the beam resting on a thick stone and pressed up against one of the floor joists, which was clearly broken. He swore to himself and started crawling under the porch. The man who had pulled the cable through was close behind him.

"How did this happen, Grant?" Frank asked in an angry, but calm tone as the other man caught up to him.

"I don't know," Grant replied. "I came through here a few times and found nothing but dirt. It looks like the beam hit a soft spot, dug in, and hit that stone."

"That's a pretty big stone to deflect that beam, don't you think."

"Definitely, but there was nothing on the plans or in the house's history to indicate anything like that under the porch."

"Get some guys under here and frame up that damage. The mayor is watching and I don't want any more hiccups. Also, figure out what that stone is. Pull it out before pushing that beam under again. With our luck, someone from the historical society will be here to shut us down if they hear about this. Let's move quickly."

"You got it, boss," Grant said and started inspecting the damage.

Within minutes, two more men were scrambling under the house with two by sixes and nailguns. Grant had grabbed a small shovel from the toolbox on the side of the Bobcat and gone straight back under the house to inspect the stone. Jack left the truck and walked over to the porch to get a better look at the work, concerned that the plan was in jeopardy. Millions of dollars floated through his mind as he watched them work.

"Is there a problem, Frank?" Jack asked.

"I don't think so," Frank answered, standing up to face the mayor. "One of the floor joists was damaged, but they will have it framed up in a few minutes. We will still be moving the house today. Grant is looking into what caused this."

"That's good to hear. I am going to head over to my meeting, but please text me when you get the house on the truck."

"I will certainly do that."

"Thank you, Frank," the mayor said before turning to walk back to his own truck.

Frank watched the mayor go and was relieved when the city truck pulled away. He was not afraid of angering the mayor, but he also did not like being micromanaged. He heard a shuffle under the edge of the porch and turned his attention back to where Grant was coming out.

"What did you find?"

"It's a pretty big stone. It is round and it appears to be sitting on top of bricks. I'm hoping it isn't a well because that was not on the plans. The beam split the stone."

"Can we get the house off with that stone where it is?"

"Probably, but I think we should put a chain around it and get it out of there. The construction crew can fill it when they start on the bank."

"That works for me," Frank said, smiling a little. "Let's get this thing going."

"I'll have the guys dig out a little more so that we don't come across any more surprises."

"Sounds great," Frank said before walking back to the piece of plywood holding the site plans.

Grant went back under the house and continued to dig, creating a sort of ramp in the dirt. He hoped the stone would slide out easily and they could get this project behind them. A thick chain was fit into the trench that the others had dug around the large stone. Although the stone had been partially split by the beam, but he hoped that it would come out in one piece.

"Take it slow," Frank said as the backhoe started backing up a few minutes later. The slack went out of the chain and the tires on the backhoe gave a brief spin, but then got a good grip. The engine roared as it began to move backward at a cautious pace. A smile spread across Frank's face as the dirt packed old stone slid out from under the house.

"That's beautiful," Grant said as the trailing edge cleared the house.

"Stop!" Frank ordered and waved his gloved right hand to the backhoe driver.

Grant started clapping but then gave a few hard coughs. He took a few quick steps away from the house and then went down to one knee. Frank walked toward him, but stopped short when a severe coughing fit took him. The air smelled rancid and they could not catch their breath.

Two other workers rushed over. Both would later swear that they saw grayish green smoke roll out from under the house. Frank and Grant each regained their breath after a little while. One of the workers had brought them each a bottle of water, which did seem to help.

"I want to see this done today," Frank said, twisting the cap back onto his empty bottle and tossing it in a barrel a few feet away.

"I'm with you on that," Grant replied, following Frank's lead.

The crew had put in the last two beams and started bolting them all together. It would be like a large steel mesh to lift the entire house. Jack had secured the necessary permits for them to move the house on one truck instead of having to split it, which was frowned upon by representatives of the historical society.

"What was that?" Grant asked Frank in a quiet tone once they had gotten away from the other workers.

"It was disgusting," Frank said with a grin. "I bet that well or cistern or whatever it is has been sealed up for more than a hundred and fifty years."

"Yeah, who knows what's down there?"

"Nothing. We really need there to be nothing down there that could set this project back."

"Right, I meant that maybe some dumb animal had burrowed in there and died."

"Let's make sure one of us is the first to investigate once the house is gone."

"You got it," Grant said, going off to supervise a few of the workers bolting the beams together.

---NBR Stop here. (Everyone else keep reading!)

The pounding of air powered impact drivers filled the area. Twenty yards away, four older men in a red Ford quad cab truck had pulled into the parking lot at the Johnstown Methodist Church. The church was at the east side of the construction site and provided a great spot to watch the proceedings. Each was sipping coffee from Quik Trip.

"Never seen anything like this. How about you, Bob?" Leon Irvon asked, gesturing his cup toward the house.

"Nope," Bob Glenn replied. "They used to just tear these things down and put a picture in a museum. What do you think about this whole thing, Dean?"

"Well, I guess someone is bound to make money off of this," Dean Burl said, taking a long drink from his cup.

"That's a fact," Jim Charles commented. "I was down at Uncle Bill's yesterday and talked to a few of the guys on the zoning board. The mayor stands to make better than two million bucks on this."

"Two million?!" Dean exclaimed. "Then why is the city involved?"

"Now, now," Jim said. "We all know how these things work. The historical society doesn't want you to move their designated buildings, but enough money in the right places will get anything done. Often times, those channels have to be through a municipality."

"Right," Leon said, with a laugh. "All for the betterment of Johnstown."

"Sure it is," Bob said sarcastically. "We definitely need another bank along Westchester. I can only see four from here."

"It's the free market at work," Jim stated in an equally sarcastic tone. "If we want to see the old place, we only have to drive over to that fancy new park."

"I suppose the mayor is paying for that new park himself. Seeing as he's the one making the profit?" Dean asked.

"I'm sure," Bob said after a nice long drink of black coffee.

The men fell silent, focusing on the workers and thinking about what they would do with two million dollars. The truck carrying the crane had arrived and was being unloaded on the north side of the house. Traffic had begun to slow with people trying to catch a glimpse as they went by on Westchester Avenue.

The beams under the house were all secured with a criss cross of cables and smaller beams. They had begun bolting together the thick cables that would be used to lift the house. The four men were still watching as the crane swung its massive arm over the house with about twenty of the thick cables hanging down. Each one had a worker with a rope on the other end, making sure the cables did not damage, much less touch the house.

Bob and his crew of friends decided to drive back over to Quik Trip for a refill on coffee and a bathroom break, but they wasted no time getting back to the Johnstown Methodist Church parking lot. They did not want to miss a moment of the house moving.

"How long do you think it'll actually take?" Leon asked as soon as Bob shut off the engine.

"I'd say thirty minutes," Dean said. "I guess it depends how fast that crane can move it over to the truck."

"Here we go!" Jim said with excitement as the crane lifted the beams up.

The steel pressed gently against the bottom of the house and then the crane operator started applying pressure. The men in the truck, most of the workers, Grant, and Frank all watched intently. Frank had his phone out, ready to text the mayor. Two men with sledgehammers were at each footing for the house, ready to break the stone loose if there was a problem. Luckily, there were none, and the house drifted up from the spot it had occupied for many years.

"We did it, boss," Grant said, walking up to stand next to Frank.

"I'll be happy when it is actually in the park, but this is a really good start."

Men with ropes tied to the beams were walking alongside the house as the crane crawled toward the road. Their job was to make sure the house did not twist or hit anything along the way. They would also be sure the house was placed squarely on the flatbed of the tractor trailer.

A few more people on Westchester Avenue were slowing to gawk at the proceedings and with one of the two lanes already closed, traffic started to back up. Even at three in the afternoon, that stretch of road could get busy in a hurry. It quickly became clear that for each interested person, there was one who was not interested in watching and simply wanted to be on their way. Tempers flared and a few drivers started yelling. They honked their horns at those who had slowed to watch.

"Grant, get down there and tell those people they need to move along," Frank said. "This is going to take a while longer and we don't want to give the mayor any reason to get upset."

"Sure," Grant said, immediately jogging down to the edge of the road. He took a spot behind the flatbed that would haul the house, but still inside the orange cones that had been set up. He started waving his arms, encouraging traffic to continue on its way. "Keep moving please! Pull off on Ballpark if you want to watch."

Traffic started moving a little quicker and a few cars did pull off. Two of the irate drivers slowed to tell Grant what they thought of the whole thing before speeding away. A silver Jeep Liberty came flying in toward Grant in the right lane, cutting over into the left lane at the last second, forcing an older woman in a burgundy Buick to slam on her brakes. The woman in the Liberty was on the phone and gave Grant a look filled with daggers as she went by.

"Some people just need to relax," Grant said to himself as he continued waving cars through.