Outlawed

         An idea that's been bouncing around in my brain...tell me what you think! <3

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  “Clarence Sanders!” Delilah exclaimed, balling her hands into fists and placing them firmly on her hips in annoyance. “You better get yourself down off my bar ‘fore I come up there and beat you off.”

            Clarence laughed drunkenly, teetering dangerously as he half-danced, half-skipped across the counter to a tune completely in his head, sloshing the bottle of whiskey clutched in his hand over the lip of the bottle. Delilah sighed heavily as the potent alcohol splashed onto the wood.

            “But -hic- ,” Clarence hiccupped, wiping the back of his mouth with his hand, attempting to send even more whiskey running down his forearm, “there’s such a good view -hic- down the ladies’ dresses from here!” He smiled with brown, stubby teeth through his scraggly gray beard as he spoke.

            “Good view or not, I spent good time polishin’ up this wood, and if your dirty boots scuff up my hard work, why I think I’d be inclined to tell your wife that you spend your nights here and not pickin’ up an extra shift at work like you tell her.”

            Clarence pouted, wobbling forwards to step down onto a bar stool. “Now ‘Lilah,” he groaned, taking the hand that she reluctantly offered to help steady himself. “That ain’t no -hic- way to treat your dear old uncle.”

            “My uncle needs to learn how to control his liquor.” Delilah snapped firmly, helping the old man descend to the wooden floor. She sat him down and snatched away the half-full bottle from his hands, ignoring his drunken whimper of protest. “You just stay sittin’ down there ‘til you’re sober enough to stagger back home, you hear?” she instructed, striding back to her proper place behind the bar.

            Clarence nodded, dropping his head to his chest like an ashamed little boy.

            Delilah sighed and picked up a damp gray rag from behind the counter, and began re-polishing the dark wood of the bar, wiping off the dirt and mud from Clarence’s boots with strong, practiced strokes.

            “Howdy,” a kind voice said from in front of her. Delilah looked up and a polite smile spread across her lips as her eyes laid upon the lanky form of the town’s deputy.

            “Hi Travis,” she said, straightening up her back and tossing the rag aside. She was used to the young man’s flirtations, but she’d hoped he’d catch on to the fact that she wasn’t interested eventually. However, five long years of Travis staring at her moon-eyed and presenting her with flowers whenever he got the chance had come and gone, and the poor boy still seemed to think he had a shot with the daughter of the local bar owner.

            “What’ll it be today?”

            “Just a bourbon.” Travis said, taking a seat on a stool. He removed his cowboy hat respectfully and laid it up on the bar. “Good night?”

            Delilah shrugged, turning around to grab a bottle of low grade bourbon off the wooden shelves lined with bottles on the wall behind her. “It’s a pretty good sized crowd for a Thursday,” she shrugged, as her nimble fingers pulled the cork from the mouth of the bottle. “Mainly just men coming in for a few before goin’ home to their families.”

            “What about you?” Travis asked softly.

            Delilah tightened her lips. “What do you mean?” she asked as she poured the amber liquid into a shot glass.