Button Down Dresses and Leather Boots

Wayfaring Stranger

Emilys POV

Mother always told me, "Take care of your father, he's the only family you have now." Her weak voice repeated this over and over again. Yet, at this moment, I wanted to take a butcher knife to his throat. Tonight was the third time this week. So when Johnny Boy raised his frail, raisin hands, Maria, rushing to the door, I was dressed. My white, button down gown flowed to the tips of my brown leather boots Accompanied by a leather trench coat and a cotton bonnet, I was ready.

"Emily!" Maria's accented voice called from down stairs. The wooden door lay open to expose young Johnny Boys face. He was a handsome man, I suppose. High cheek bones, flawless skin, nice hair with icy blue eyes. Johnny Boy was the dishwasher at St. Petes Pub a little down the road. He was a great scholar, but he was an orphan at the towns church. His parents were passing through Hansburg and left him on the steps. Carpet stairs muffled the sounds of my shoes, almost making me trip. To be fair, walking down two flights of stairs is a challenge enough, let alone putting on skin tight cotton gloves as well. November nights are always chilly.

"Good evening, Johnny Boy." I gave a slight smile in his direction, making him blush. "Maria, il be back in little while. Please make dinner again, and make fathers bed." Maria shifted uncomfortably. Black hair spilled over her shoulders as she closed the door behind us. Johnny Boy was in a particularly good mood, having chatted about our other housemaid Lucy, all the way to St. Petes.

I could smell the brew two shops away. Loud voices of deep bellied men hollered and hooted from inside the windows. Ladies of the night prowled through the back alley calling coo's at Johnny Boy as we walked to the back door. The noise got louder.

"Sorry for the noise, we got a group of travelers in earlier. A few are actually thinking about staying for a while." Johnny Boy yelled over the cheers. Soon we were behind the bar and Mr. Pete pointed across the room, shaking his head. Mr. Pete was a nice fellow. Always in church on Sunday's, always nice, well-mannered. He was probably in his 50's, unlike his wife who is barely 37. They were lovely together. I danced between warm bodies across the room to be confronted by a very drunk, very happy father tripping over his own feet. Smelling of liquor, his eyes brightened at the sight of me.

"My beautiful, beautiful daughter has come to dance," he chanted, twirling me in circles. Yanking my hand, I held him still.

"Were leaving. Mr. Pete has cut you off. It's time to go home. Father.. Please, lets just get you home." I pleaded to him, making our way to the front door.

Maria let us in and helped me carry a fully drunk, half asleep father to the bedroom on the left of the door. Tucking him in, i fed him soup and some bread hoping to calm his stomach. Seeing him like this made me sick, I hated to pity him. But I did.

"Emmy, darling?" a low voice rumbled, startling my thoughts. I starred at him. Un-shaven stubble reside on his face, dark circles cloudy under his brown eyes. "Your mother always loved you more, you know?"

"Goodnight." I swiftly got up, ringing the bell for Maria to clean up. Tears streaming as I rushed to sleep away long hours of nothing.

Landons POV

Christoph waved and winked at me as he attempted to chat up a fine, plump lady named Marine, I think. Laughing as I watched him fail and walk away like a battered puppy, I sipped the brew. Christoph found his way to the table and stared at me.

"What are you looking at?" I questioned, he chuckled and begin to sway from side to side, Oh. Hes trying to dance.

"How come you get all the fine ladies and im stuck with beggers. Honestly, Landon. Teach me your ways, I beg of you!" He got down on one knee and pretended to be crying. My stomach began to clentch and turn from laughing too hard. We danced and drank for some time, meeting other travelers, regulars and even the owner Mr. Pete. He was an older gentleman, but had light in his eyes. We talked about political things that were happening around the area lately. The king just found out his daughter ran away to be with a begger, had her captured and is being held prisioner in the dungeon below, or at least thats what the drunk beside me slured between sips of beer. Mr. Pete and I laughed until we were on the verge of tears. Vivian, King Philips daughter, did indeed love a poor begger, but she is getting married to Sir Henry IV in the summer months. Gossip is great in small town. I kind of miss it. St. Petes Pub was quite small in size, enough room for a bar and some tables in the cornor. Everything a deep oak and brown leather. Names carved into the wooden walls, old photos and glass windows. Johnny boy, I believe is his name, came up and whispered with the owner, soon disapearing.