Three years later — The Saloon Motel
"Cock-a-doodle-do."One."Cock-a-doodle-do."Two."Cock-a-doodle-do."Three."Cock-a-doodle-do."Four. Time to get up.
The rooster's call still echoed as my eyes adjusted to the gloom of my room. I swung my legs off the bed, the springs groaning beneath me.
I stretched, my limbs cracking from eight hours of stillness. The cold air made my skin prickle, but I welcomed it. Routine was my anchor.
At the small cabinet beneath the mirror, I caught sight of myself—teeth yellowed with age, eyes crusted from sleep, and a rough patch of stubble on my chin.
First things first: brush my teeth, wash my face with a damp cloth, then shave off the stubborn beard with a razor and some cream.
I splashed cold water from the barrel in the corner, shivering as it ran over my skin, but I never feared cold-born illnesses.
Dried and somewhat awake, I stared into the mirror and whispered my daily mantra, a ritual to steel myself:"Stay in routine. Stay in routine. Don't diverge unless necessary. A role must be played, and I shall play it to blend in."
Dressed in worn overall trousers with dark blue suspenders, a white shirt stained from years of use, boots dusty from the road, and my straw hat covering my unruly hair, I stuffed some coins into my pockets.
I left my room on the second floor, and footsteps quickened. At the base of the stairs, Mariah Feldway caught my eye.
"Morning, Madam Feldway."
She smiled slyly. "Seriously, Sweet Giant, why do you keep calling me Madam? I haven't even hit thirty yet."
"I'll keep insisting the moment you stop calling me Sweet Giant," I shot back with a grin.
Her laugh was genuine. "That's never happening."
"So, we're agreed then." I settled onto a stool near the bar.
She rolled her eyes. "The usual?"
"As always," I said, reciting my mantra silently — the routine must remain unbroken.
Mariah was a barmaid through and through — wild, beautiful, with eyes that sparkled and a personality to match. Today, she wore her lime green uniform, the standard attire, but somehow even more dangerous than usual.
"Coming right up," she said, knocking on the wooden counter behind her.
A faint voice answered from the shadows:"He wants eggs, toasted bread, and black coffee."
Mariah sighed. "The usual. Sorry, Chilly, no adventurous orders for you today."
"It's Enoch of Wakan," the voice chuckled. "The only way to get him to try something new is to spike his coffee."
Mariah smiled. "He'd know right away."
I called out cheerfully, "Good morning!"
"Good morning, Enoch!" the cook replied, and soon the sound of clattering pans filled the air.
The saloon looked like any other frontier town's watering hole — worn wooden tables and chairs, a piano in the corner, empty except for the three of us.
Because we lived in a ghost town.
I tapped a melody on the counter, waiting. Mariah cleared her throat, a grin tugging at her lips.
"And here we go," I thought.
"So, Sweet Giant, what's the plan today?"
"The usual, Madam. Open my shop, wait for Sean, head to the woods for supplies — mostly wood — return, fulfill the mayor's orders before sunset, then supper and sleep."
The kitchen bell chimed.
"Still the usual, then?"
I nodded. "Yes. Although the mayor did commission me to build a wardrobe for him and his wife."
Chilly announced breakfast was ready, this time without teasing me about my predictable tastes.
Mariah placed the plate before me with a flourish. "Enjoy."
I smiled and dug in — eggs on toast, no utensils necessary.
Some called me uncivilized. Some said I was a savage. But I was who I was.
Sipping the black coffee, I daydreamed — a twenty-three-year-old carpenter, woodsman, occasional hunter. A simple life. What more could I want?
Suddenly, a familiar scent caught my attention. Mariah had changed her perfume. Her blouse was looser than usual.
I caught a glimpse of her "goodies." I shrugged triumphantly:Nice try. I'm not interested.
Routine was my shield.
"Drinking in a hurry, huh, Sweet Giant? Want to chat?" she teased, leaning closer.
I tipped my hat to avoid her gaze.
"That was a great breakfast, thanks, Chilly and Madam Feldway."
I slipped through the swinging door, heart racing for reasons I refused to admit.