Welcome to Bardstown! Who: Terry and a strange guest When: Late Friday night, between 11 PM and 12 AM Where: The Old Talbott Tavern What: They talk, and the man makes a bizarre exit
It had been a long week for Terry Leatherwood. As it was the first week in April, business was beginning to pick up in Bardstown, a town that probably would have gone under a decade ago if it weren’t for tourism. Certainly that was true to Terry’s job as the manager of the Old Talbott Tavern. The tavern had been in downtown Bardstown since near the time the town was founded, and given that it had hosted everyone from Abraham Lincoln to King Louis Phillipe, it was definitely a hotspot for travelers. But that meant more people to deal with and more problems to solve. The change of pace jolted Terry every year, and while most people were getting ending their work weeks, Terry’s busiest days were the weekends.
The kitchen had shut down an hour and a half ago, and the chef and servers were all taking off for the night. Terry waved to one of the girls who was ending her shift as she walked out the back door, locking it behind her.
Terry went into his office and began working on balancing the books. It was his least favorite part of the job. Though an admitted curmudgeon, Terry far preferred being out around the customers than he did stuck in his office. He would never admit that out loud, of course, but it was the truth.
After an hour, Terry had updated the web site and written the weekly report for the owner. He figured he’d pour himself a drink at the bar – one of the advantages of working nights was the bar to himself most of the time – and relax for a bit until the next crisis occurred.
Oddly, sitting at the bar was a man in a cowboy hat, boots, and a trench coat. Terry realized that he hadn’t come through the front door, and he had watched the back door get locked. This fellow must be a guest who had come downstairs for something. “Can I help you?” Terry asked. The man laughed and nodded. “What will you have?” Terry asked.
The man’s voice was a little raspy, but Terry figured it was due to allergies. “Brought my own,” the man explained, opening his coat to show a flask inside.
:Oh,” Terry answered, walking behind the counter and opening himself a bottle of beer. “What’s got you up so late? Couldn’t sleep?” he asked the man conversationally. Even Terry, who wasn’t known for noticing details, realized that the man was wearing a bizarre getup. If it were closer to Halloween, Terry would’ve sworn the man was dressed up for a costume party.
“You could say that,” the man answered. “I’m keeping my ears open.”
Not knowing exactly what that meant, Terry nodded. “Probably smart,” he answered, taking a swig of beer. At this point, he was silently cursing the city ordinance against smoking in restaurants. He’d give anything for a cigarette to accompany the beer.
They sat in silence for a bit before the man jumped to his feet and looked around wildly. “It’s too quiet. I’d better go before they catch up with me!” he exclaimed. Pulling what Terry thought was a pistol out of his belt, the man bolted out of the room, but he didn’t head upstairs. Instead, he headed toward the front door.
Before Terry could asked who “they” were, the man was just out of his sight in the lobby. He had a gun, though, so Terry thought he’d better follow him. However, when he got to the lobby, the man was gone, yet he’d not heard the door open.
“What the hell?” Terry asked himself out loud, scratching his head. He looked behind the front desk and in his office, but the man was nowhere to be seen.
Figuring it was best to call the police just in case, Terry dialed the number and waited until the deputy answered the phone. “Hey, this is Terry Leatherwood from over at the Old Talbott Tavern.”
“:What’s the problem, sir?” the man asked.
“Well, I don’t really know. I had this guest tell me someone was after him and he ran off, waving a gun,” Terry answered.
“All right. What did he look like?” the man answered.
Terry thought for a moment. “Well, he was pretty young. Late twenties, early thirties, I think. He was wearing a hat and had on a suit that looked pretty old.” After a few more questions, Terry was sure he’d given the cop all the details.
“All right, I’ll see what we can find. Thanks,” the man answered.
Terry, still scratching his head, went back into his office and sat down. He needed to update the legends part of the site. People believed all of that stuff; it was weird. After shaking his head to clear his thoughts, he clicked on the page of famous guests and prepared to write.
Then, he froze.
There, starting back at him, was the face of the man he’d been speaking with in the bar – none other than Jesse James.