One too many drinks last night.
Ethan rubbed his face and whiskers. He stared at the haggard face and blood-shot gray eyes looking back at him in the mirror. His gaze rested on the gaudy, floral wallpaper behind him. Who in their right mind would choose a turquoise background with red flowers? It reminded him of a whorehouse in St. Louis.
He turned, grabbed his bag and headed out the door. He hadn't taken more than a few steps when Philip caught up to him.
"You missed it last night," Philip said. "You left too soon."
"What did I miss?" Ethan asked slowly, squinting his eyes against the morning sun, haloing the man. He took a few steps to the right to see Philip without being blinded.
"He was in the saloon last night. The centaur," Philip said. "Him and another one. They walked right into the saloon, shot a few arrows from their bows, shattered tables and chairs, swallowed a few drinks, stole a few bottles and left. Not their usual reign of terror but they were there just the same."
"What?" Ethan asked.
"It's true."
"That same centaur?" Ethan said as he rubbed his eyes. "The black one with the bounty on his head."
"Pretty sure," Philip said. "They look pretty much alike. He looked like the one who busted down my cabin's door a few years back. Come on, I'll show you."
When they reached the swinging doors of the saloon, Ethan kept his eyes on the dusty ground. Several hoof prints, most overlapped with human boot prints, lead straight to the bar.
"Looks like someone rode their horse into the saloon," he said. "I've seen that happen before. Years ago, I was in an old Phlegm-cutter in St. Louis."
He glanced at Philip who wore a puzzled expression. "That was the name of the place and their speciality drink."
Philip nodded for Ethan to go on.
"They always had a special going on where meals were free but drinks were not and customers had to buy drinks to get the meals."
"I heard about them," Philip said. "All that competition out there. Not so much here."
"Yeah, I noticed that. Hard to get a cocktail out here. Anyway, a horse walked right into the saloon and the rider ordered a tall Corpse Reviver to go. Said he was too stiff and drunk to dismount."
"No," Philip said. "No, that's not what happened. Come inside."
Ethan tried not to act surprised at the condition of the saloon. Chairs lay smashed beyond repair. Unshod hoof prints scuffed the dusty, hardened clay floor and on top of the broken table tops laying askew on the floor.
"I still don't believe this is the work of a centaur," Ethan said. "How did a centaur get on top of a table? Why?"
"He reared up and crushed it."
"There was a brawl here last night, don't you remember? You, saw it, Old Man Billy was thrown across the room."
"Yes, that's true," Philip said with a nod. "But none of the tables were broken from that brawl." He squinted at the bar, then stepped closer to investigate.
"Where's the barkeep?"
"He was nursing a hangover himself," Philip said. "Doesn't normally open up too early. Look! There's blood on the bar." He pointed to the bar. "It's from that black centaur, Old Man Billy shot at him."
"If there really was a centaur here," Ethan said. "Did he kill anyone? Hurt anyone?"
"No."
"No one else tried to stop him?"
"Ah, no. Didn't think to do that. He took us by surprise, and you know the lot of us—not many chances for that to happen—but it did I tell you."
"I'm not too worried about a centaur or any other vermin," Ethan said as he left the saloon. He waited on the porch for several cowboys with fifty head of cattle to pass.
"He was wounded, took a bullet," Philip said. "At the least, grazed."
Ethan turned around. "Who was?"
"The centaur, the black one," Philip said. His eyes grew wider. "Old Man Billy shot him in the arm. Ever since Billy was chased by that centaur, he's been mixing his bullets with a poison. An old recipe that puts critters to sleep, he said. He has this real strange impression nowadays, that the critters he shoots suffer. The centaur and his accomplice, a chestnut, left the saloon. We ran after them but they vanished. Seems like what they always do. Now, they're out yonder."
Philip pointed toward the mountains, barely visible in the morning haze.
"No one's set out searching for them, yet," he said. "We all figured it was useless. This wasn't the first time they came into town. A hundred head of cattle could be easily lost out there. Looking for one or two centaurs is a hopeless pursuit."
"That's interesting," Ethan said as he stepped off the porch and headed across the street.
He look upward at the false front of the stagecoach depot, then pounded on the door. Hearing no one coming toward the door, he peeked through the window. A sign hung from the doorknob: CLOSED
"Figures," he grumbled. "I'll never get out of this town."
Ethan's pace quickened as he stalked toward the neighboring building.
"Why is the stagecoach depot closed?" Ethan said, bursting inside the telegraph and mail building.
The telegraph operator's eyes peered over his book, surprisingly not at all alarmed by Ethan's abrupt entrance. The man was dwarfed by the stacks of crates and piles of mail. "As likely as not because they won't stop here any more."
"What?"
"They're tired of being raided and terrorized by the centaurs," the telegraph operator said. "They won't come here until they know there's no longer a threat. Look around. All this needs to go out, but no one will take it. It's worse than that time we had a road agent two months back. People now would rather take their chances with a highwayman than one of those centaurs." He rubbed his nose and pushed his drooping spectacles closer to his eyes.
"Blasted place," Ethan said louder. "How in creation am I supposed to leave? I shouldn't have sold my horse."
"You can probably get it back."
"Where's the stagecoach stopping now?" Ethan asked. "How far is the next town where they do stop? And how come I haven't seen a centaur around these parts? I've been here nearly a week. People tell me they see them, all the time, but—"
The telegraph operator shook his head. "Now, no sense getting all riled up about it. They still have a stop in Minertown. Ten miles northwest of here. Follow the road, it will take you straight there."
He pointed his directions.
"Be careful when passing through the Plains, before the incline just short of the mountains," the operator said. "The road narrows there and those stray paths may look inviting but don't take them. Stay on course and you'll make it there fine."
Ethan took a breath. "If you say so."
He dreaded having to walk that far in the blazing heat. As luck would have it, he bought back his gelding for a higher price than originally sold for. He strode out of the town and toward the plains, happy to be out of the town, once and for all.
