No one suspected she was the Medusa; shrieking harridan of the long-forgotten Golden Age. She hadn’t shrieked in quite a while thinking maybe she was about due. The faux-cowboy had intrigued her despite her never deigning to show it; why was he so studiously *****? He’d apparently come from back east; buying his cowhand get-up complete from a retail outfit. She suddenly felt unsettled; lifting a meaty cheek from the satin embroidered seat and cutting a targeted gust of rancid air throughout the carriage; the noxious odor so overwhelming the horses reared and bolted, shocked by the hissing foul wind and taking off in mad gallops.