Entering a small log cabin at the end of a side street of Christiansburg, Davy saw Elijah Griffith hunched over a tall rough table, stitching with intensity the brim to the leather crown of a man’s hat. He was a skinny man with thinning blond hair. As Davy looked closer he noticed how strong Griffith’s hands looked and how thickly muscled his forearms were.
“Father,” Harriet said in a sweet soft voice. “I have someone I want you to meet.”
Griffith put down his work, turned and smiled. Davy was taken aback by his deep blue eyes which slightly bulged from their sockets and blinked uncontrollably. He could understand how the other apprentices were afraid of him and ran away but the gentleness in Griffith’s smile assured him his bark must be worse than his bite.
“This is Master Davy Crockett, and he wants to learn how to make hats.”
Griffith stepped forward and extended his hand. “Pleased to meet you, Master Davy.”
His handshake was firm and strong, but restrained, showing he knew his strength and knew when not to use it.
“So where are you from?”
“I’m from Morristown, Tennessee, sir.” Davy paused before doing something he had not done in a long time. “I ran away from home because my pa beat me.”
Griffith narrowed his bulging blue eyes. “I don’t believe in hitting children,” Griffith said firmly.
“I worked for teamsters up and down the Shenandoah Valley. I really miss my ma and my sisters, but I was on my way home when I saw your daughter crying outside. I felt sorry for her.”
“You were crying, Harriet?” Griffith frowned with concern.
Harriet glanced to Davy and then to the floor, making him regret that he told the truth which made her feel uncomfortable.
“Only a little, father. I so hate to see you sad.”
“Oh, her crying had nothin’ to do with my wantin’ to make hats. I always wanted to make hats.” The sound of his own voice made Davy wince.
“No, you don’t.” Griffith paused to consider him seriously. “You really don’t want to make hats for the rest of your life?”
“No, sir.” The back of his neck burned intensely, and his stomach tightened, anticipating Griffith’s reply.
“You look like you could use steady meals, and a few extra dollars wouldn’t hurt you,” he said in measured tones before smiling. “Besides, it takes a good heart to be touched by a girl’s tears.” He patted him on the shoulder before returning to his work. “Welcome to the family, Master Davy.”
Harriet beamed as she guided him around the room. “We have a large fireplace. I cook all our meals.” She paused. “Mother taught me before she died.” She passed her hand over a roughhewn table with long half log benches on each side. “Father made all our furniture himself. He’s very talented.” Next she took him to the door in the middle of the far wall. “Father and I sleep in here.”
The room was small and dark, holding a large bed and a low small one, both covered with colorful quilts.
“Mother made the covers. She died before she could teach me how to quilt.”
Davy’s heart ached each time Harriet wistfully talked about her mother. She made him long for his own mother even more.
Pointing to a ladder from a hatch in the ceiling, she said, “We’ve got an attic where we keep the extra quilts. You can sleep there. All the other apprentices did.” Her eyes were still looking up when she discreetly took his hand in hers.
“Looks like my home back in Tennessee,” he whispered. He felt warm when she squeezed his hand.
“I know you won’t stay long, but father and I will appreciate the time you can give us.”
“Uh hmm.” For once words escaped him.
His attention was drawn away when the door opened, and a large burly man entered. His long, dirty brown hair covered his ears.
“Griffith, you got my hat?”
“Good day, Mr. Hansen.” Griffith did not look up but kept to his work, tying off the leather strap and cutting it with a long sharp knife that glistened in the dim window light. “Just finishing it.” He smiled and handed the hat to the large man.
Grunting with suspicion, Hansen took the hat, eyed it with care and then placed it on his head. He looked around. “Ain’t you got no mirror?”
“No,” Griffith replied, his gaze going out the window. “I need to set aside stray coins to buy one.”
“You need to do that.” After a few more unpleasant grunts, he finally announced, “I suppose it’ll do.”
Davy was aware of Harriet’s breathing deeply in relief.
“That’ll be two dollars.”
“Two dollars? You told me one fifty,” Hansen blustered. “I’d never told you to make it if I thought it’d be two dollars.”
Hansen was lying. Davy, who considered himself an expert storyteller, saw the signs, a forced tone, a slight shuffling of feet and his hand went to his face, covering his mouth. A poor liar at that, Davy decided.
“Oh.” Griffith’s large blue eyes fluttered. “I did? I thought—I guess I forgot. I get confused sometimes.”
“You better watch that.” Hansen dropped three half dollars on the work bench. “You don’t want the word to git out that you’re a cheat. It’s a small town, Griffith, and rumors can ruin a man’s business.”
Davy swallowed hard. It had never bothered him before to tell a lie to get what he wanted, but now he saw how his lies could hurt good, hard-working innocent people. He did not like the feeling.

***

David could not believe that Matilda told him she did not tell him all her secrets first. She was his joy. She was the one who seemed to understand why he was gone so much. “Of course, you tell me everythin’. You always say—“
“I lied.”
Slowly it dawned on David his daughter had always lied to him. He did not like the feeling.
“How can you be the first one I tell things when you ain’t here?”
“But why did you tell me I was the first to know?”
“You wanted to be the first one to know.” She bit her lip. “I thought you’d love me more if you thought I told you everythin’ first.”
“Do you lie to me most of the time?”
“Yes.”
“What are some of these lies?”
“Papa, don’t.”
“I guess when you said you was proud of me when I went to Congress, that was a lie.”
“No, that wasn’t a lie.” Her gaze went down. “I’d gone without the honor to have you home more.”
“Is that a lie, too? Do you really care if I’m home or not?”
“Oh, Papa, please don’t be mean to me. All I ever wanted was for you to love me.” Matilda tried to muffle a sob.
“That’s why you want to marry an old man, so you can have a papa?”
“At least he’d be home.” Her eyes hardened.
“Matilda, I ain’t goin’ nowhere.” He did not know why he said he was staying. That was not his plan. He wanted to go to Texas more than anything, but at this moment he wanted to prove Matilda was wrong.
“Yes, you are,” she blurted out. “You’re goin’ to Texas.”
“I’m not goin’ to Texas.” His voice was forced, and he shuffled his feet.
“Well, if it ain’t Texas it’ll be someplace else, any place but here.”
“I give you my word.” David’s hand covered his mouth.
“Oh, Papa,” she replied, sighing in resignation.
“You don’t believe me?”
“Who do you think taught me to lie?” Matilda turned away, wiping tears from her eyes.
He felt as though a man had just punched him hard in the gut. “I didn’t lie to the Cherokee. I promised I’d fight for their rights and I did. I lost, but I tried. I didn’t lie to the poor folks. I promised I’d git ‘em cheap land. I failed, but at least I tried.” He grabbed her shoulders to turn her around.
“You didn’t try very hard,” she said in a cold tone. “You let those folks down like you let us down.”
David slapped Matilda’s face. His eyes widened, horrified he lowered himself to his father behavior. Immediately he held her close to him and fought back tears. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” After a long moment he noticed her arms had stayed at her sides and not a muscle had moved in reaction to his embrace.
“May I go now?” she whispered. “I have to core them apples.”
David pulled away and nodded. Her lips pinched shut. Matilda picked up the basket and walked into their cabin. He stood there, very empty of emotions. His first impulse was to follow Matilda into the kitchen and confront her. As he got to the door he heard a slight humming of an old hymn in the back yard along with sloshing of laundry in a large black pot. Walking toward the sounds on the other side of the dog trot he saw Elizabeth stirring the pot with a four-foot long pine paddle.
“I talked to Thomas Tyson this morning.”
“He’s a good man.” Her eyes did not leave her pot of dresses, working the soapy water into every crinkle.
“Why didn’t you tell me he was an old man?”
“You seemed so upset about the election I didn’t want to bother you none.” Pulling up one dress, she scrutinized it for old stains before dumping it back in and stirring more.
“Do you think the election’s the only thing I care about?”
“I suppose I should have said somethin’.” She lifted the dress from the pot again with the ladle, bumping David aside so she could drop it into a tub of rinse water.
“I don’t know why I didn’t see it,” David said.
“It’s the way she looks at him.” Going back to her pot, Elizabeth paused to lean on the paddle, smiling a little. “And the way he looks at her. The sparkle in their eyes when they hear each other’s names.” She started stirring again.
“I didn’t know Matilda lied so much.” He saw a slight amusement flicker across her face.
“It’s not so much lyin’ as tellin’ tall tales.”
“Do you think she got it from me?”
“Why, Mr. Crockett,” she replied with a laugh as she moved a second dress to the rinsing tub, “you invented the tall tale.”

***

Dave, Vince and Lonnie made sandwiches and sat at their table in silence eating.
“That was a good idea,” Vince said. “Thinking of the antique shops in Dallas. I’d never come up with that.”
“I don’t think we’ll ever find it.” Lonnie shook his head. “That damn Allan. He was never right in the head.”
“But Puppy’s a good man to go looking for it,” Vince offered. “I don’t think I’d have the patience to do that.”
“Yeah, Puppy, that’s a good thing,” Lonnie said. Finishing his sandwich and belching loudly, he stood. “I gotta get out of these clothes and take a nap.”
After the bedroom door shut, Vince looked at Dave. “I want you to know, I’m not mad about last night.”
“You already said that.”
“I didn’t know you were that mad. We’ve got to put this behind us.”
“It’s too late.”
“It can’t be too late,” Vince said, his eyes searching Dave’s face. “We’ve got to be a family again.”
Before Dave could reply, the telephone rang, and Vince answered it.
“Hello?” Vince paused to look over at Dave. “Hello, Tiffany. This is Vince. Yes, I know. I’d like to meet you, too.” He paused again. “Yes, he’s right here.” He extended the receiver. “She wants to talk to you.”
Dave walked over to take the phone. Vince lowered his eyes and went to the sofa to lie down.
“Hello?”
“I talked to Linda.” Tiffany’s tone was controlled. “Why didn’t you tell me you had a brother Allan?”
“I was ashamed of him.” His eyes darted to Vince who had put one arm over his face and the other on his stomach.
“You thought if I knew you had a mentally ill brother I’d—do what?”
“I don’t know.”
Tiffany was silent for a long time so Dave blurted out, “I won’t be home tonight like I said.”
“That’s all right.”
“It’s a long story, but I’ve got to go to Dallas for a few days.” When she did not respond, he added, “It’s family business.”
“So it’s none of my business?” Resentment tinged her voice.
“You know that’s not true.” Dave turned his back to Vince.
“No, Dave. I don’t know that. We’ve got some talking to do when you get back to Waco.”
“Okay,” he said in a muted tone. “I love you.”
After hesitating, she replied without emotion, “Good-bye.”
He hung up and went to the table. “I’ll clean the dishes before I leave.”
Vince stood to join him. “That’s all right. I’ll do it.” He gathered the plates and glasses, dumping them in the sink. Vince turned back to Dave. “I can’t believe you think it’s too late.” He tried to smile. “After all, we’re the Crockett boys.”
“It’s me.”
“What?”
“I hate myself,” Dave whispered.
“Why? Tell me. I’m your brother. I’ll always be your brother.”
“I hate myself because I could never prove you wrong about me.”
“That’s the past. Forget the past.”
“That’s hard to do.”
“I was a stupid jerk, okay? You turned out better than me. Can’t you see that?”
“It’s all a lie.”
“I don’t understand.” Vince blinked his eyes.
“I live in a big house. I drive a Jaguar. I wear expensive clothes. But it’s all a lie.”
“I still don’t get it.”
“As long as I keep my wife happy, I get anything from her father.”
“Oh,” Vince replied.
“She doesn’t love me. She loves this thing I’ve manufactured. She doesn’t even know who I really am. She couldn’t love who I really am.”
“But you’re vice-president of—“
“I’m a whore!” Dave shouted, spittle flying from his mouth. “Okay, I said it!” He stepped closer to Vince, his eyes glaring. “That’s what you wanted me to say! I’m a damn whore!”