rebirth
vltra
Wednesday, January 17, 1846. 10:37 P.M.
Gallons of rain crashed against the tin roof of the Tailor's shop as Atto read the weekly newspaper in his living room chair by the fireplace. Nothing remarkable had happened in the past few weeks besides the announcement of the First Transcontinental Railroad finally being completed—we were brought the news from a caravan from the east—and we (the mayor) held a festival in the Plaza next to Town Hall.
The weather had been rather strange for us; the previous week, it had been continuously dry, but ever since Monday it had rained practically nonstop. We expected rain, as it was almost Spring, but it was unusual for Wyoming. Well, unusual for Walburn at least. Nobody had settled a town in Wyoming besides us. Some had arrived before us and built homes, cabins and log houses in the wild to get away from the cities, or small communities, but we were really the only large colony around.
When the railroad company, Central Pacific, asked for Mayor James Avery's permission to construct a massive railroad station through town about a year and a half ago, he obviously allowed it, but it was with a huge smile on his face. He devoted all available town funds into building the station. I remember Atto being so excited, he volunteered to help set it up. He would head out ever Sunday and Wednesday to help with later construction, such as laying down carpet, setting up surfaces that were attached to the floor, and the lights, which were very complicated to install.
They built the station along a road near the end of town, across the street from a saloon and a few blocks away from Town Hall to keep the noise away. Town Hall was located in the center of the town, and people could always be seen near there, as the Plaza (which marked the starting point and center of Walburn) and a series of shops and restaurants rested outside.
Atto had been reading about a man named Tom Dooley—a confederate soldier from North Carolina—had murdered his girlfriend and would be hanged soon. He read about Doctor Alfenheimer's latest "Miracle Tonic," and he read about how a group of women who took an interest in flowers had formed Walburn's first and only gardening club last Friday.
He flipped the folded paper over only to be met with the headline "Black man evades law in Eastern Nebraska! Stay vigilant!"
Atto stopped himself, let out a deep breath, and sat the paper down on a wooden side table with a lamp on it next to him. It's always the black's fault, thought Atto. What did he do wrong? It only said he evaded the law, not what crimes were committed. Atto couldn't understand racism or sexism in the slightest, and it upset him whenever he heard of it occurring. Not many agreed with him, though.
He walked outside his bed-kitchen-living room combination in the Tailor's building to the well outside, where Father Matthews collected water while a handful of nuns watched silently.
"Started rainin' on our way to the well," Matthews said. "We thought, why stop now?" It was difficult to hear him through the cackling of thunder, but Atto understood. When Matthews was finished collecting water, Atto drained some into a small steel cup.
"Why don't you all step inside for a while? You can warm up, and dry off." Atto smiled, drank the cup, and got some more.
Father Matthews let a smile escape his lips. "Thank yuh," he said. Atto held the door open while the Father and the Sisters went inside, and followed them.
The interior was compromised of three rooms: the main room, Atto's office, and Atto's... quarters. The main room was the largest out of the three. It had a wooden floor and walls, stored animal pelts, cotton, fabrics, cloth, and other materials needed to create clothing. It also contained a pile of small portable sewing stations in the farthest corner, each looking like tables you would use to eat breakfast or supper in bet with.
It was difficult to see his room as one walked into the building. The outside door was made of solid wood and nearly blended into the wall (I believe it was made to look that way), and there were only two or three windows peeking in. It was positioned at the top of a staircase on the far back wall, and another staircase from Atto's office blew lead up into it as well.
Atto walked them to his office, held the door again, and shut it behind him. His office was small, and had a two long windows reaching from the wall to the left to the door, and the second one from the door to an empty space on the right about a quarter of the way across the wall. To the right was a bookcase, a leather chair, and Atto's desk, and the rest of the room was either chairs, a love seat or two, a plant, or the door to the staircase that lean into Atto's room. Father Matthews sat in the chair nearest to the desk, and the nuns sat behind him.
"Thank yuh, mister Gulfman—do ya prefer Gulfman or Hughes?" He asked kindly, with a slight smile on his face. He held a large, brown ceramic jug on his leg, and if Atto hadn't seen him fill it up with water, he would have assumed it was filled with moonshine.
"Doesn't matter to me, Father. I'm glad to have you." Atto took a drink from his steel cup, and sat it on his desk.
"Seeing as though we're here, I've been meaning to ask yuh—d'ya mind patching up a few of the sisters' and priests' outfits? They're startin' ta... wear."
"Of course father. Whatever you all need done."
"Bless you, Gulfman. I know you ain't a religious man, but—oh, you're so kind!"
Atto let out a loud yawn, trying to stifle it to no avail. "Yeah, of course, you're welcome. Look. You all stay as long as you'd like, but I need some sleep. Goodnight, I'll pick up whatever you need patching in the morn. Goodnight Father, goodnight sisters." Atto waved at everybody and went up the stairs into his room, where I rubbed against his legs as a warm welcome. He patted me on the head a few times, and fell into his bed.
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