High Noon in Rocky Beach

narrated by Ulf Blanck

with illustrations by Kim Schmidt

translated by Georgina Hodge

KOSMOS

Cowboy Breakfast

Justus Jonas was still wearing his pajamas when he entered the veranda yawning. “Good morning,” Aunt Mathilda greeted him. “Sit down, I have some fresh bread rolls and my first homemade cherry jam of the year.” Justus’s eyes lit up, because she was known for more than just her awesome cherry pie. He hungrily dipped a spoon into the jar. “Mm, delicious! The jam’s still warm.” Uncle Titus peered over the edge of his newspaper. “So, is this the latest thing then, wearing pajamas during the day? I think that means I’m completely behind the times. Mathilda, please go and bring me my nightshirt with the pink dots on it!” Justus didn’t think it was funny at all.

“Ha! Ha! Ha! Very funny, Uncle Titus. It’s summer vacation and nobody can see me here on the veranda anyway.“ Aunt Mathilda glanced over towards the entrance of the junkyard. “I wouldn’t be too sure about that if I were you. Looks like we have customers.” Uncle Titus fixed his eyes on the car that was now speeding into his junkyard. A man in a dark suit was sat behind the wheel. “Oh, oh! Do you know who that is? It’s the mayor!” Startled, Justus put the spoon down and ran off to his room. Soon after, he came back dressed. Meanwhile, the mayor had parked his car under the big cherry tree in the yard and was sitting in Justus’s chair. Aunt Mathilda wiped her hands clean on her apron.

“Can I bring you some coffee, Mr Plimsfield?” The mayor shook his head. “No thanks. Please don’t go to any trouble. Coffees not good for my heart and I am stressed enough today as it is. I’ll get straight to the point. Mr Jonas, I need your help.” Uncle Titus looked at him baffled. “I don’t understand. How can I possibly help you?” Plimsfield reached into his vest pocket and pulled out a small pillbox. “Because you’re the only guy in Rocky Beach who trades in old junk. And we’re sure gonna need a lot of old stuff in the near future.” Uncle Titus swallowed hard – normally he got really mad when someone called his valuable scrap, junk. For him it was all recyclable material. But this time he decided to say nothing. The mayor took one of the pills and carried on. “They’re for my heartburn. I have problems with my stomach and gallbladder. But getting back to the point: Rocky Beach has the unique opportunity of becoming the number one tourist attraction in California. And as mayor of this town, it’s a chance I just can’t afford to miss.“ Then he opened a folded letter. “This letter is from a movie production company in Hollywood. By the way, it’s one of the biggest movie studios in the world. These guys wanna film a western. You get the picture: cowboys, Indians and a whole lotta shootin’. Right now they’re looking for a town to use as a filming location.” Then Justus butted in. “But don’t they usually make a special movie set for films like that? You know, out of wood and cardboard?” Mr Plimsfield took another one of his pills.

“Yeah, yeah sure they do, normally. Only this time the movie director wants to use a real town – and actually no house facades made of cardboard and plywood. Everything should look real.” Aunt Mathilda shook her head disapprovingly. “What kinda crazy idea is that? Rocky Beach doesn’t look anything like an old cowboy town! Everything is modern round here. There are no saloons or horse troughs on the streets. Mighta looked like that two hundred years ago, but not anymore.”

“Exactly right, Mrs Jonas. You hit the nail on the head. Rocky Beach has gotta be transformed: carriages instead of cars, stables instead of garages and revolvers instead of cell phones. That’s why the town that looks most like a Wild West town will be chosen for the movie shoot. Just imagine what great publicity this would be for Rocky Beach. The whole world will want to visit our town. The hotels will be booked out, souvenir shops will open and money will flow into the city treasury. It’ll be just like Disneyland!” Uncle Titus picked up the letter.

“Well, yeah, I have quite a lot of stuff here in my yard from those days when the west was still wild. My wife is always telling me to throw it away, but I just knew that it would come in useful one day. I even have a very old horse-drawn carriage from the voluntary fire department back then. It has a storage tank that holds a hundred and fifty gallons of water, and it even has a hand pump. And then, I also have a whole box full of old cowboy movies in my shed. Bonanza and everything you can think of. But soon I’m gonna throw them all away. Now I gotta ask you another question altogether: I’m a businessman and so I wanna know what’s in this deal for me? Nothing’s free, not even in the Wild West.”

The mayor let Aunt Mathilda pour him some coffee now, after all. “I understand. Sure you should get something outta this, too. Okay, let’s make a deal: If Rocky Beach wins the competition and gets the movie contract, then you will have a street named after you.”

But Uncle Titus didn’t look too happy with the mayor’s proposal. “A Titus-Jonas-street? I think a failed actor would be happier to have his own street than I would. A businessman like me doesn’t care about stuff like that.” Justus was amazed at his uncle’s tough negotiating skills. The mayor stirred his coffee nervously. “Okay, then I’ll do you one better: If we win, you don’t have to pay any property taxes for a whole year.” Uncle Titus beamed: “Done! Now that’s what I call a deal. When do I start?”

One Jonas – One Word

“Start right away, Mr Jonas. The film studio has given all the towns taking part just three days. Then a committee will go around to judge the Wild West towns and choose a winner. Every second counts. I’m giving you the job of managing and organizing the whole thing. Meanwhile, I’ll get a team of workers together to help you. I trust, I can count on you?”

“Sure thing, one Jonas – one word. When I’m done, you won’t recognize Rocky Beach anymore.” Justus glanced at the letter. “Do you know which towns are taking part in the competition?”

“Yeah, as far as I know, there are four other towns competing: Santa Monica, Malibu, Santa Barbara and Topanga Beach. I also know the mayors of all these towns. Competition will be tough!”

Uncle Titus laughed and reached out to shake Mr Plimsfield’s hand. “Don’t you worry! Competition is good for business. They will have to come up with some pretty good ideas to beat us!”

“Very good, Mr Jonas. That’s what I want to hear. Turn this town inside out, regardless of the consequences. Any problems, just call me right away at the city hall. Have a good day!”

As the mayor drove away, Aunt Mathilda shook her head. “Oh Titus, what have you gotten yourself into this time? But on the other hand, I gotta say that one year of no taxes does sound tempting. We could really use the money.”

“That’s just what I thought, Mathilda. We have no time to lose. Justus, will you and your friends help me?”

“Yeah, sure thing. I’m sure Bob and Peter will join us.”

“Great. And you’ll all be rewarded for your help. If we win, you can choose your very own piece of junk from my yard. A promise is a promise.”

Justus had agreed to meet his two friends in the Teapot that day. It was their secret hiding place on the outskirts of Rocky Beach. Within ten minutes, he was riding his bike along the long coastal road and then turned onto a narrow side track.

The Teapot was hidden between two large bushes and thorny shrubs. It was in fact an empty water tank used by the old steam locomotives in the past. But this one had not been used for a long time now and had been forgotten over the years. Justus quickly climbed up the metal steps and pushed himself through the narrow hatch at the bottom of the tank. His friends were already waiting for him inside. “Hi Justus,” said Bob. “I see Aunt Mathilda finally made some jam again.” Justus looked at him in surprise. “How do you know that?”

“Well, it’s easy for a good detective like me. You have jam smeared up to your ears.” Peter laughed and Justus quickly wiped the jam from his face. Then he told his friends about the mayor’s visit. “And we only have three days. Can I count you in?” Bob Andrews pointed his forefinger, as if he were holding a revolver in his hand. “Sure thing! I’ve always wanted to be a cowboy. In those days, there was no school, no homework and no stupid questions. When can we start?”