The black and white photo showed three men standing in a saloon with a woman dressed in a skimpy barmaid’s costume. The men wore cowboy attire, holstered guns atop black jeans, long-sleeved shirts, and, of course, dark Stetsons.
I laughed. “Where did you get this? Was it one of those photography shops where you get to play dress up?” I asked. “I’ve always wanted to do one of those.”
Beside me, Timothy was munching on a waffle, one with blueberry compote. My mouth watered. I picked up my muffin and took a bite. Yum. Not even the very persistent and nutty as a fruitcake Jack Peters could destroy the deliciousness of a honey-coated English muffin.
However after my bite, I was back to sticky fingers. I licked my index finger, the recipient of a big honey drip. Luckily, I’d already passed the photo back, so it wasn’t contaminated by my breakfast smear.
“This picture was taken in Texas in the year 1885,” Mr. Golf Jerk said. “Did you notice that one of the men was your lover, Timothy, or whatever he called himself in that century?
“Okay,” I chuckled. “So someone looked like Timothy back in 1885. Do you have a picture of that cowboy drinking blood? Did Stetson Guy burn up when the sun came out?”
Amused by the whole discussion, I munched on my English muffin half, sipped some coffee, and darted a look at the men. Timothy was quietly eating his breakfast, but the growling guards had stopped wolfing down their mostly empty plates. Their faces looked dark with shadows of beard stubble, which I hadn’t observed earlier. That was curious since I usually noticed things like that.
I studied the two men more intensely. Both guys still seemed on edge, much more so than Timothy, although I doubted that he was as relaxed as he seemed. Tension was almost a perfume in the air. I breathed in deeply, wondering if I could actually smell such a thing. I couldn’t.
My eyes moved on. Mr. Peters was more or less glaring at all of us. Obviously, he didn’t like it when people jeered at his statements, even if that someone was me, whom he’d come over to save from being Drink of the Day.
Catching my eye, the man’s eyes softened a bit. “Scoff if you want, Ms. Casey, but I’m warning you. This man will bring your death. He is lethal.”