Davy Crockett’s Butterfly Chapter Twenty-Four

With a final kiss on Harriet’s forehead, Griffith turned her toward the door and watched out the window until she disappeared down the road. He walked back to his work bench where he picked up various knives to examine them for length, strength and sharpness.
“I know all this is very scary, Master Davy, but I assure you no harm will come to you.”
“What are we goin’ to do, sir?” he asked with apprehension.
“Go outside, sit on the step until Captain Stasney arrives.”
“What?” Davy did not understand.
As Griffith held one short knife up to his eyes, “Wait for him to arrive, and when he does, run as fast as you can into the woods and up the hill. Don’t stop. Don’t look back.” He put the knife aside and picked up another, testing it for sharpness. “Don’t worry. He won’t catch you.”
“Maybe Mister Goodell won’t tell him where I am,” he said. “Maybe he decided I was tellin’ the truth.”
“Oh no. Goodell will tell him, probably already has.” He paused as he took a whetstone to his knife. “I never really liked Goodell. He likes to look down his nose at people.” He turned to Davy. “Now go to it. Or would you like something to eat first? No, I suppose you’re too nervous for food, aren’t you?”
“Yes, sir.”
Before Davy could say anything else Griffith marched out the door. He took a moment to recover from his master’s abrupt departure. Davy decided he had no alternative but to wait for Stasney. Going outside he could not see where Griffith had gone. Breathing deeply, he did as he was told and sat on the stoop. How his life had been turned upside down in the last few hours, Davy mused as he stared down the road and listened to distant call of wolves. Rough clumping through gravel caught his attention. Davy focused on the dark approaching hulking figure. Shivers echoed up his back as he recognized that gait. Stasney was coming.
“Boy!” he bellowed.
Straight away Davy jumped to his feet and ran up the hill into the woods.
“Come here!”
He could not withstand temptation to look back at the captain who rampaged toward him. Griffith was correct. He should not have glanced. But he kept running through the woods. Even though he had stamina and speed on his side, Davy also was aware Stasney had fanatical determination to kill him. One mistake on his part and Davy could be dead. Why had Griffith abandoned him, Davy wondered as his breath became labored. His foot caught on an errant tree root, landing him face down in the dirt and leaves. As he rolled over he saw Stasney towering over him, his forked tongue slithering in and out through his thick dark lips.

***

“I can do the right thing first,” David said, looking from Elizabeth to Robert. “You don’t have to tell me. And the right thing for me to do is to go. Nobody’s been happy since I came back. The only answer is for me to leave.”
“Don’t that make it good for you, to do what you wanted to do in the first place?”
“Robert, hush,” Elizabeth said.
“But I can leave with things better than they are.”
With a grunt Robert picked up his axe and barged out the barn door.
“I mean, it, Elizabeth,” he said, looking at her with sincerity. “I’m goin’ to make everythin’ right.”
“Of course you are, Mister Crockett.” Her face was stony, and her eyes fixed.
David turned to saddle his horse, and she left. Before he rode away to Texas he was going to prove to his family that he could tell the truth. His first step was to go to the old Kimery store to talk to Thomas Tyson. October air was crisp. The summer heat had passed. Harvest time was upon them. David wanted his last Tennessee crop to be a good one. Walking into the general store David girded his inner strength, bravely smiled and approached the storekeeper.
“Mister Tyson, I owe you an apology and an explanation.”
Tyson’s eyes widened.
“I shouldn’t have left the way I did yesterday,” David continued. “It was stupid. It was cowardly.” He paused. “I may be a liar, but I’m no coward. And I apologize for hittin’ Matilda.”
“You tell Matilda you’re sorry?”
“Not yet.”
“You should tell her before talking to me.”
“You’re right. But I wanted you to know ’cause you’re important to her. You want to marry her one day, don’t you?”
“Yes.” His blue eyes blinked through his thick glasses. “I don’t think it would be fitting before she was sixteen.”
“I appreciate your respect for her. If it means anythin’, you have my blessin’.”
“It means something.”
“I’m leavin’ for Texas in a few days. So for what it’s worth, I’ll never hit her again.”
“And I swear I’ll never hit her.”
“I know that. I’m not worried about Matilda, but I got some fences to mend with Robert.”
“I don’t think I got that kind of mending materials.”
“I ain’t never bought one of these before.” David walked over to the table of Bibles.
“Don’t you believe what’s in it?”
From his childhood David had been told of God, Jesus and the Holy Ghost, but he had never taken time to think about them. He loved and respected his mother who lived by the Bible and would have read it if she could read. David would never have heard of Creation, the Flood, Exodus, Virgin Birth, Crucifixion and Resurrection if not for his mother. On the other hand his father believed in the parts of the Bible that allowed beating children, vengeance, wrath, abominations and Armageddon. David found his route through life somewhere in the middle, not quite as holy as his mother but not as evil as his father.
“Of course I believe in the Bible,” David told Tyson.
“I want you to know I’ll bring up your grandchildren in the church and follow the teachings of the Bible,” the storekeeper said.
David continued flipping through the pages and nodded. “Matilda’ll be in good hands. And she knows I love her.” He looked at Tyson. “She does know that, don’t she?”
“Yes,” he replied, “and she loves you. That’s why your slap hurt so much.”
“But she forgives me?”
“There’s nothing to forgive in her eyes.”
“That’s good.” David shut the Bible and turned to Tyson. “I want to buy this.”

***

“Mother doesn’t like to think of sad things,” Mary said, smiling at Myrtle. “Unfortunately, Harriet’s marriage was not a happy one.”
“I’m afraid few people have happy marriages,” Dave replied.
“Sadly, that’s true,” Sarah Beth confirmed, “but Harriet and her husband had three robust children who produced many grandchildren which made Harriet’s long old age very pleasant and comfortable.”
“Her husband Charles was much older than she and preceded her in death by many years,” Mary added.
“That was not the first tragic death in Harriet’s life,” Myrtle interjected. “Harriet’s father died not long after Davy went back home to Tennessee. It was a hunting accident.”
“Well,” Mary said, “rumors had it he shot himself, having succumbed to mercury poisoning, common to hat makers of the day.”
“Mary, I don’t like those stories. Taking one’s own life, well, it just isn’t done in proper families. Besides, why would he kill himself? He hadn’t done anything wrong.”
“Mother, if a person has gone mad from mercury poisoning, he doesn’t need a reason for suicide.”
“Anyway, Harriet went to live with the seamstress in town, Miss Dorcas Hinton. Within a few months storekeeper Charles Goodell began courting her and they were married soon thereafter.”
“They didn’t really love each other?” Dave asked.
“According to family tradition,” Mary replied, “it was more a marriage of convenience. While there was no talk of any actual strife they had no great romantic feelings either.”
“Most marriages back in those days were for convenience,” Myrtle muttered with a sigh, “the convenience of the man.”
“As you mentioned, Dave,” Sarah Beth said, “very few marriages are great love affairs.”
“One reason we know Charles was not the love of her life,” Mary added, “was that as Harriet grew older the more she talked about her lost love Davy Crockett.”
“Oh.” Dave began to see why the Bible was important to them.
“Each son brought his fiancée to meet his mother,” Mary continued, “and Harriet told her the story of the love she almost shared with the famous Tennessee hero. It was a cautionary tale not to let love slip away. Her sons had sons who grew up and presented their new wives to Grandmother Harriet who told them she had loved the martyr of the Alamo. Even on her deathbed her last words were about Davy Crockett.”
“The story always brings tears.” Myrtle pulled out a lace handkerchief to daub her eyes. She laughed. “Menfolk in our family don’t seem to understand how wonderfully sad this story is.” She glanced at Dave. “You’re probably just like them and think we’re just silly women crying over a silly old love story.”
“No, I understand,” he replied, thinking of Tiffany and Linda.
“Then you know why I was so excited when I saw the Bible in that Dallas bookstore,” Sarah Beth said. She looked at Myrtle. “My aunt would have never forgiven me if I hadn’t brought it home.”
“No, I wouldn’t have.”
“I hope you can trust me to take the Bible back to Texas,” he said. “I promise to return it as soon as possible.”
“Actually,” Mary offered, “we should let you buy the Bible back for the price Sarah Beth paid. After all, it is your family’s Bible.”
Dave saw Sarah Beth and Myrtle hold their breath. He would not even think of returning such a valuable document to the house of Lonnie Crockett who possibly could throw it out next week as part of the garbage. These people cared for it, as his mother had, sheltering it and placing it on display only on special occasions, a perfect artifact to illustrate their sad family story of unrequited love.
“No, the Bible belongs here.”
Exhaling, Myrtle stood and smiled. “Well, whatever you think best.”
“I’ll get the box I packed it in.” Sarah Beth stood to go to another room.
“Thank you.” Dave got to his feet, relieved his errand was accomplished.
Myrtle caught him off guard by grabbing both his hands and holding them to her bosom. “So, tell me, dear boy, does your family have any wonderful stories of Davy Crockett? Did he ever find another true love?”

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