Davy Crockett’s Butterfly Chapter Twenty Five

“So you thought you could cut Captain Elmer Stasney and git away with it?”
All Davy could do now was to listen to his heart pound in his chest. When he opened his mouth nothing came out.
“What? I can’t understand you,” Stasney said, taunting him. “You used to have a bunch to say, but you ain’t got nothin’ to say now, do you?” He kicked at Davy’s legs. “You know how long it took me to find you? That Adam Meyers told me what kind of little scalawag you are and that you deserve anythin’ I did to you. That old farmer had to bleed before he remembered who you were.” He kicked at Davy again. “After a while it got easy to follow your tracks. Everybody remembered the boy with the big mouth. You talk too much. Your wild stories make you stick in people’s minds. That’s a bad habit, boy.” He bent down to whisper, “Maybe I should slit your tongue like you did me and see how you like it. I was goin’ to give you everythin’ I had. If you had done right, you could have had my Jezebel when I died, but you cut me.” His voice hardened. “You bit the hand that fed you.”
Whimpering, Davy started to inch his way up the hill away from Stasney.
“I’m goin’ to git you back to the Jezebel and take you down to my cabin and do what I should have done that night you cut me. This time you won’t git away.”
“Ahh!”
Davy recognized the scream. It was Griffith. As Stasney fell forward with Griffith on his back Davy scrambled to his feet. Instead of running away he stumbled backwards until he bumped into a tree.
“What the—“ Stasney blustered, looking over his shoulder at the slightly built blond-haired man who was grunting,, wild-eyed, grasping and clutching.
“This ain’t your fight, man! This boy’s broke his bond!”
“Shut up!” Griffith shouted as he pulled out his knife and started stabbing at Stasney’s back.
“Stop!” He twisted around and flailed his arms, trying to knock Griffith off. One swing caught the hand holding the knife which caused it to fly from Griffith and land at Davy’s feet.
Griffith leaped over Stasney’s head toward Davy who bent over to pick it up and stare at it without comprehension. The boy held it out to him, but Stasney grabbed Griffith’s feet and pulled him back.
“I’m goin’ to kill you, man!” Stasney said in a growl.
Wrenching a leg free Griffith stomped at Stasney’s face over and over again until his other leg escaped the captain’s clutches. He scrambled forward to snatch the knife from Davy’s hand, twisted around and shoved it into Stasney’s left eye. As the captain screamed in pain Griffith stabbed his right eye. Stasney lifted his head, and Griffith crammed the blade under his jowls and rotated it. Blood spurted from the captain’s mouth and muted gurgling sounds made their way around the flow. Stasney collapsed, his body going limp.
“Is he dead?” Davy asked.
“He will be.”
“They can’t call it murder. He said he was goin’ to kill you. Of course, you jumped ‘im, but he was coming’ after me. Self-defense, or somethin’. They can’t git you. Do you know the constable? I’ll tell ‘im. I’ll tell ‘em all. The captain deserved it.”
“There’s not going to be a trial,” Griffith said.
“What?”
“You have to have a body to have a trial.”
“What do you mean?”
“He was just a stranger passing through town.” He looked at Davy. “He never saw you. You didn’t see him tonight. If Goodell asks you anything about him, say you never saw him.”
“You’re goin’ to bury him out here in the woods?”
Wolves howled in the darkness.
“No.” Griffith lifted his knife and looked down at Stasney’s bleeding body. “Go back to the house. Clean up. Get a good night’s sleep.”

***

When David rode back to the farm from the Kimery store with a new leather-bound Bible in his saddlebag he saw Elizabeth sweeping the dog trot. Dismounting his chestnut David walked with deliberation to the edge of the porch. To catch her attention he coughed a little. She continued to sweep, so he decided to jump right into the conversation.
“I appreciate what you done this mornin’,” he said.
“What did I do?” Elizabeth kept looking at the broom. “I don’t remember.”
“You told Robert to be good to me.”
“Oh yes. As well as he should. Thou shalt honor thy father and thy mother so that thy days upon the earth shall be increased. That’s what the Good Book says.”
“The Good Book says a bunch of things that folk don’t abide by. You do, and I want you to know I appreciate it.”
“Thank you.” She did not break her rhythm in sweeping.
“Last night, when I said I had to go to Texas,” he added, “I didn’t mean to say I didn’t know how good you are or how hard you work. I didn’t mean to say I didn’t love you.”
“I know.” Elizabeth stopped sweeping, turned and smiled. “Jest ‘cause I got mad don’t mean I don’t love you.”
“That’s good.” David grinned. “That’s good to know before I leave.”
“The children, Robert, Matilda and Sissy too, they love you. More than they want to say.” She furrowed her brow. “We’ve been hurt, that’s all, and it hurts more when you love the person doin’ the hurtin’. That’s why I told them to be good to you.”
Not believing what he heard, David swelled with happiness. Never had Elizabeth ever told him so outright how she felt about him. “Come to Texas with me!”
“What?” She smiled. “Do you want me to smack you with this broom?”
“I don’t care! Go ahead and smack me! Jest as long as you go to Texas with me!” He took her hand to bring her down the steps. “It’s a wonderful land!”
“How do you know?” Her eyes sparkled. “You’ve never been there. Anyway, I don’t care if it’s flowin’ with milk and honey—“
“But it is!”
“You and your ideas.”
“I’ve heard you don’t have to can food. Jest pick the fruit off the trees whenever you want!”
“There ain’t no place like that, except maybe heaven.”
“That’s what I’m tryin’ to tell you! Texas is heaven on earth!” He put his arms around her thick waist.
“No, that’s too far.”
He felt her body tense in his embrace, and he knew his brief flirtation of taking her with him was over. “Too far from what?” David asked as he pulled away.
“I don’t know.” Her smile faded. “Family, I guess.”
“From the Pattons?”
“Well, they are my family.”
“Like the ones who took you to court.” David felt his temper slip as he endured her rejection.
“Well, they meant you, when they went to court.” She paused, her eyes wandering about. “But it’s not jest the McWhorters and the Edmundsonses.”
“You afraid you’ll fergit James Patton if you move to Texas?” David had never given voice to his suspicions that she was still dedicated to her first husband who died in the Indian War. For years he used that thought as an excuse to leave on hunting trips and political campaigns. She did not need him, he reasoned, because she had her memories of James Patton to comfort her.
“And I suppose you don’t think you’ve made it quite clear you loved Polly more than you ever loved me?” She lifted her head in anger.
“If Polly hadn’t died, she’d be here, and she wouldn’t give me no argument. She’d say go, and I’ll follow.”
“That’s foolishness!” Elizabeth snapped. “How do you know for sure how she’d act after a lifetime of bein’ left alone like I have? Yes, you’d have left her jest like you left me and don’t deny it!”
“If you’d stop lovin’ a ghost and love me, you’d say my heart belongs to you, and it goes where you go!”
“And if you loved me, you wouldn’t talk like that!”
David and Elizabeth stared at each other in an emotional standoff.
“You never understood me,” he said. “You lived with me, and we’re nothin’ but strangers.”
“I ain’t goin’ to say another word, Mister Crockett,” she said, turning to walk up the steps. “If you got to go Texas, you go. If you die in some God forsaken land, you die.”
“That’s what you really want, ain’t it?” His anger overcame his common sense. “You want me to die so you can finally be alone with your memories.”
Elizabeth turned sharply on the top step, her eyes wide and glaring, and hissed, “Oh, go to hell!” She gasped, put her hand to her mouth and shook her head.
“No, I ain’t goin’ to hell, I’m goin’ to Texas.”

***

Sarah Beth invited Dave to spend the night in her guest room and leave the next morning. His original intention was to fly home without delay in hopes of making it to the Gainesville Social Security office as soon as possible, but her calm friendliness made him realize how tired he was. Mary dragged Myrtle, who was still asking questions about David Crockett’s love life, out the door. Sarah Beth pulled out a homemade stew from her refrigerator and put together simple sandwiches. Much to Dave’s relief, she changed the topic of conversation from his famous ancestor to discuss her own family. Her husband died of lung cancer after a long affair with cigarettes.
“He seemed so surprised to discover there actually was a link between smoking and cancer.” She shook her head. “After all those years of making fun of pointy-headed scientists who didn’t know what they were talking about, he found out too late they were right.”
She had two sons and a daughter. The elder boy was gay. Her husband on his death bed refused to speak to his alienated son one last time. Now her son visited Sarah Beth often with his close friend of many years whom she found to be warm, compassionate and funny. Her daughter was a middle school teacher who only just discovered her devoted husband was a cocaine addict. Their early stages of discussing divorce were complicated by the fact their two-year-old son adored his father. Her younger son, a computer technician, wanted to marry but was shy and did not make a good first impression. By the third or fourth time a woman talked to him, however, she would find a gentle and selfless human being. Alas, Sarah Beth said, most women did not want to try that hard to find out how wonderful her son was. After a pause, she smiled and patted Dave’s hand.
“Please don’t feel like you have to tell me about yourself.” She looked with awareness into his brown eyes. “In fact, it’d be best if you didn’t. I’d rather believe the children of Davy Crockett had nothing but love and happiness in their lives.”
The next morning Dave’s plane lifted from Roanoke, and the family Bible packed in a sturdy cardboard box, sat on his lap. Sarah Beth had a very nice family who loved David Crockett more than Lonnie’s brood ever did. He did not want to disappoint them by letting the Bible get away from him.
Dave personally was not very impressed with his ancestor, once he grew out of his childhood infatuation with the movies, songs and trademarked toys. The autobiography was hard to read, written in the old Tennessee vernacular and filled with silly claims of riding streaks of lightning, grinning down bears and things too inconsequential to remember. Also suspect was Crockett’s departure at age fifty for Texas leaving behind his wife and three teen-aged children. While he knew it was not fair to impose current values on someone who lived a hundred and fifty years ago, Dave still could not indulge in ancestor worship. Dave wished he could have told Myrtle that Polly had been the love of David’s life, mourning her early death until his demise at the Alamo, but he could not. Whether his second wife Elizabeth became the stable, enduring love of his life was also unknown. Myrtle would just have to draw her own romantic conclusions.
Back in Gainesville, Dave walked into his father’s house with the Bible in his hands. He had never seen Lonnie rise so fast from his easy chair.
“Did you get it?”
“Right here.”
Lonnie’s face exploded with a large grin. Vince appeared in the door to the hall wiping his face with a hand towel.
“Good,” his father murmured. “That’s good.”
“It’s not ours anymore,” Dave said. “The woman who bought it just let us borrow it long enough to show at the Social Security office and then I have to ship it back.”
“I don’t care about that,” Lonnie said, “jest as long as I can get my Social Security.” His hand went to his face stubble. “I better clean up before we go.” He paused to look at Dave. “You do want go to the Social Security office right now, don’t you?”
“Of course.”
“Good.” Lonnie turned for the hall.
“I got to get home tonight,” Dave said.
Lonnie disappeared without hearing him, and Vince went to Dave.
“You still not goin’ to be his guardian?”
“You can do it,” Dave replied.
“I ain’t never sold a house before.”
“Get an agent. Hope for the best.”
“That sounds like you’re still mad.”
“I’m not mad. I’m just tired.”
Lonnie reappeared freshly shaven and in his Sunday suit. They drove to the Social Security office downtown.
“This car drives good,” he said after a long silence.
“Thanks.”
“What is it? One of them fancy new Chevies?”
“It’s a Jaguar.”
“What’s that? A Oldsmobile?”
“It’s English.”
“What? One of them foreign cars? I don’t know nothin’ about those things. If it breaks down I can’t fix it for you.”
“Jaguars don’t break down that often.”
“Well.” Lonnie shrugged. “Can’t do nothin’ about it now.”
They did not have to wait long before they went into the Social Security clerk’s office. At first the man was impressed with the physical historical document. When he heard what they wanted, he went to a filing cabinet and pulled out the needed forms. After they filled out every blank he smiled at Lonnie.
“This shouldn’t take long, Mister Crockett,” he said. “You can go ahead and start filling out an application for the nursing home.”
The ride back was less tense, and Dave began to speak freely. “I’ll wrap up the Bible and send it back today.”
“That’s good.” Lonnie paused. “You done good.” He added, “You grew up into a good man.” As they pulled into the drive way he tapped his foot. “Was she a nice lady?”
“Very nice. She had an aunt and a cousin there too. They were nice.”
“That’s nice.” He paused to sigh in profound relief. “It’s all very nice.”

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