Whiskey & Women

The Stranger (Cherry Parker)

After talking with the sheriff, I headed back inside the saloon to check out any havoc that may have been wrought in my absence. The drunkards who gambled away their life savings in my uncle's saloon could get wild and rambunctious if I wasn't there to constantly remind them that there would be no trouble in Oakton while I ruled the solitary saloon of the town.

On my way back to my station behind the bar, I passed a regular at the saloon who had been drinking scotch since earlier this afternoon. His hands, which were usually occupied by a glass of alcohol, were now tangled in the shirt of the fair-haired owner of the bank. "Wyatt, sit your ass down and get your hands off Mr. Allison, you crazy drunk," I snapped at him. He received a sound smack to the back of the head in addition to my harsh scolding. Wyatt Johnson was a wild card, and he was also one of the men I reprimanded at least once an hour, it seemed.

"Or what, pretty little lady?" His slurred voice and grabby hands on my waist made my lip curl. I put on my fiercest glare and whirled around, getting right into his face. My voice was low and deadly when I told him to get the hell out of my saloon and not to come back until he had sobered up, unless he wanted to find out just how badly the hilt of a shotgun could hurt when jammed into the nether-regions of a man's body. Apparently, my words made it through his thick skull because he slouched out of the building.

There were no further incidents the last twenty feet to the bar, and so I relaxed, an easy smile on my face. Alma O'Donnell had taken over in my absence, which made me a little nervous since, well, Alma wasn't the brightest of girls. She had a pretty face but that was about it; the men didn't mind about her brains (or lack thereof, and she was one of the most requested young ladies of the night. Regardless, I still thanked her for her efforts, since she was the only one who had thought to cover for me.

"Hey, Alma, darling, you want a drink on the house for your customer over there?" I gestured with a tilt of my head toward a dark haired individual who was lounging alone at a small table in the corner. He appeared to be relaxed, with his legs propped up on the table, ankles crossed, and his hands folded behind his head, but I could see the way his alert black eyes roamed over the sundry activities and took it all in.

She blinked dumbly at me before following my nod. "Oh, him--tall, dark, and handsome? I dunno 'im, Cherry. He ain't one of my customers, though I wouldn't mind to get to know that body a little better." Her high-pitched giggle made me arch my eyebrows and shake my head a little. Typical Alma, thinking with her hormones.

"Why don't you go see if that lonely cowboy would like a little company then?" Her eyes widened in excitement, and she adjusted her dress to show off her rather large bosom a little better. I watched her saunter over to him for a second before a sharp rapping further down the bar caught my attention.

A slight gentleman with a pencil-thin mustache, slicked back blonde hair, and round spectacles was leaning against the bar. I gritted my teeth, but inclined my head to acknowledge his presence. "Garrett Allison, what can I get you to drink?" The way his hooded green eyes roamed over my body and how his annoying smile got even larger, revealing a few missing teeth, implied that I was what (or who, as the case may be) he wanted to drink.

Perverted little son-of-a-bitch.

If he wasn't the son of the banker, and if my uncle wasn't currently in the process of trying to woo Garrett's father--the blonde man I had rescued from Wyatt's drunken rage--into lowering the loan rate on the saloon, I would give the vermin the right-hook he deserved. For some reason, the creep had decided at some point along the lines that he wanted me, of all people, to be his "woman". It seemed he didn't care that I towered a whole head above him, or that there were many more curvaceous women in the saloon who would trip over their own feet in their hurry to find a man like Garrett that could be their escape from prostitution. He didn't even care that I had turned down his offer multiple times; Garrett Allison was under the impression that he could "woo me into submission" by being dedicated and determined--I thought he was just an annoying prick.