A NOVEL OF TRAVEL BACK IN TIME
I said it out loud, “parallel universes.”
That had to be it! That was why all the history was different, but the customs were the same. I immediately felt better, but then the question jumped into my mind.
“What about the Orb? How did that figure into the equation?”
Again, my mind couldn’t comprehend what the Orb signified, what it really was, nor how it operated.
Finally, I literally threw up my hands and said out loud, “Getting the answer to one of the big questions is enough for today.”
Then I thought, ‘Besides, I have to see about getting an appointment with the banker who has a big say in hiring a new school teacher.’
I got up from my perch under the big oak, walked through the cemetery gates into the road, turned left, and headed back toward the intersection with German Street. As I walked along, I listened to the sounds of the land. I could hear chickens clucking in some backyard coops. There were a multitude of birds flying around making all kinds of calls. Robins and Blue Jays were in abundance. The sun was at my back and I was getting hot due to the black clothing pulling in the heat.
I made it to the intersection, turned right, and walked three blocks to the bank.
It was an imposing two story structure with an outside brick wall with beautiful lead inlaid glass doors for an entrance. I entered, went to a teller’s window behind a proverbial barred opening, and asked to see the bank president.
The teller looked me up and down and, due to the new clothes, probably thought I might be of some importance. He asked my name and raised his eyebrows when I said James Hager. Apparently the name had some clout in the area. He quickly excused himself and went through a door behind the tellers’ counter and into the back of the building. He disappeared into a room I ascertained to be the Bank President’s office.
The teller returned in just a few seconds and said, “Mr. Throckmorton will see you now.”
I moved past the teller windows, through a swinging wood entry door, into the area behind the counter. I took my time and looked at all the interior elaborate wood work. You definitely don’t see this type of workmanship anymore.
As I passed through the swinging gate into the Holy of Holy’s, I looked for the huge metal vault that I know must exist in a 19th Century bank. Sure enough, there it was at the back of the room with its 2-foot thick door open, showing all the integral locking mechanism.
I took off my hat and entered the lair of the archetypal robber baron of the 19th Century, the town banker.