Crisp, cool air filled the streets of Christiansburg two mornings after Captain Stasney’s death as Davy and Harriet escaped the house because of another eruption by her father. Griffith had been placid for more than twenty-four hours after slicing the captain’s body into pieces, leaving them in the woods for the hungry wolves. The two young people tickled each other’s palms before clasping hands. In his mind Davy almost believed this nightmare never happened. If there is no body there was no murder, Griffith said, and Davy began to believe it. He began to think about his future. Davy wanted to marry Harriet.
Before he could say anything, however, Miss Dorcas called out to them from her open front door. “Yoo hoo, Harriet, Davy.”
Walking over they smiled at the plump spinster and dropped each other’s hands.
“Darlings, I don’t want to be nosey,” she said, her eyes still glancing about, “but, is everything all right?”
“Why, yes, Miss Dorcas,” Harriet replied.
“Of course, my dear.” She giggled and clapped her hands around her face. “But you were so distraught the other night when you stayed with me.”
“You know, Miss Dorcas, sometimes, my father doesn’t always feel well,” she said, looking down at the ground.
“It’s just that some people do talk, and Christiansburg is a small town. Oh dear. It’s just gossip but sometimes—“
“A man was lookin’ for me,” Davy said, interrupting her with as much courtesy as he could muster. “He told folks I owed ‘im money. It was a lie.”
“Of course it’s a lie,” Miss Dorcas gushed. “You’re too good a boy to keep a man from his money.”
“Father talked to him,” Harriet said. “He straightened out everything. Everything’s fine now.”
“That’s good, dear,” she replied. “I’m glad. It’s made me very happy to see you two young people happy, and I’m happy you can continue to be happy.”
Davy and Harriet tried not to laugh until they had taken several steps from Miss Dorcas’s house. They agreed that the old woman was a dear but a bit daft. By the time they returned Griffith was in good spirits.
“I’m pleased you went for a nice walk,” he said. “You children work so hard. I feel bad you don’t get to be just children more often.”
At lunch Griffith laughed as they told him how silly Miss Dorcas had acted. Harriet was in the process of washing dishes when they heard a giant clomp at the door. Griffith, with Davy behind him, opened it to see Goodell again, this time with Town Constable Franks, a rangy, long-haired man with gray strands in his beard.
“Mister Griffith,” Goodell said, “I told the constable about the missing sea captain, and he wants to ask you a few questions.”
“Of course,” Griffith replied.
“What do you know about this Captain Stasney?” Franks said.
“He was after Master Davy here,” he replied. “The boy almost became his cabin boy, but then the man revealed his true character. I would tell you what kind of man he was but my daughter is standing here. Naturally, Master Davy ran away.”
“Why would he bother to chase after the boy if no money was involved?” Constable Franks asked.
“Master Davy had to cut him on the tongue to get away.” He glanced at the storekeeper. “Mister Goodell, you can testify how badly the man’s tongue was slit.”
“It was split bad,” Goodell confirmed.
“If somebody cut your tongue like that, constable, you’d want to get even too,” Griffith said.
“I suppose so,” Franks whispered, looking at Goodell and then at Davy, who stepped behind Griffith.
“Master Davy’s a good boy who did a bad thing to get away from a bad man,” Griffith summarized with a tight smile.
“Is that true, boy?” Franks asked.
Davy stepped out from Griffith’s shadow, nodded and returned behind him.
“Do you have any idea why a man would disappear without his belongings?” Goodell asked in an aggressive tone, glaring first at Davy then at Griffith. “People don’t do things like that. I know I wouldn’t run off without my clothes.”
“No, I don’t know why he would do that,” Griffith replied, “but he didn’t seem like a rational man to me.”
“There’s some reason for the captain to leave his belongings at the inn,” Goodell persisted.
“I’m sure there is, but Mister Griffith ain’t bound to provide that reason,” Franks said. He nodded and turned. “If you think of anything the captain said to you that night that would explain his disappearance, I’d appreciate you telling me.”
After Constable Franks walked away, Griffith pursed his lips and stared at the storekeeper. “Good day, Mister Goodell. I have my business to tend to.”
“I want to talk to the boy,” he demanded.
“He’s busy too,” Griffith said, shutting the door.
Davy watched out the window at Goodell as he stalked away. He felt as though he were a captive in the steam-filled room, because he knew Goodell would hook his elbow as soon as he came out for whatever reason.
“Don’t worry about Mister Goodell, Master Davy,” Griffith said as he resumed shaping the crown on a hat. “He can’t do anything to you.”
In the late afternoon Griffith asked Davy to go to the general store to buy some liniment to ease his back which ached from bending over the workbench. Harriet tried to intervene, but her father retorted that his back was killing him, he needed the liniment and that was that. Harriet squeezed Davy’s hand, and he walked out and down the street. He hoped against hope Goodell had let the incident slip from his mind also.
That was not to be, because, before Davy could say anything about liniment, Goodell pushed him against a wall, wagging a finger in his face.
“I know Captain Stasney is dead,” he said in a spitting low voice. “I can tell by the fear in your eyes. Either you killed him and got Griffith to cover it up, or you got that poor old madman to kill Stasney for you. And I’m not going to let you get away with it. You think you can swagger into town, pick out the prettiest girl for your own when you don’t deserve her? What can you give her? Nothing. She deserves better than a no-good vagrant.” He paused to peer into the boy’s face. “What do you have to say about that?”
Blinking, Davy took a moment to find his voice. “I need a bottle of liniment.”
That night, after a quiet supper, Davy retired to his bedroll in the attic loft but could not sleep. He knew Goodell meant it when he said he was not going to let him get away with Stasney’s death. If only he and Griffith had reported the fight that night, Constable Franks would have believed them. No one would believe them now that Griffith fed the body to wolves and they lied repeatedly that the captain just disappeared. Davy faced a tough decision. He could accept blame for a crime he did not commit or he could betray his employer and tell the truth. That would make Harriet hate him.
His only option was to run away again. Constable Franks, Goodell and the good folks of Christiansburg would assume he was indeed guilty of murder and leave Griffith and his daughter alone. Eventually they would forget about the strange sea captain’s disappearance. The last question left was his departure. Just slipping away in the middle of the night did not seem right. Davy had spent the last sixteen months in the home of the Griffiths. He learned a trade and accepted room and board and their affections. He could not forget that Harriet had completed his education, teaching him to read, write and do ciphers. Besides, he loved her too much to leave without one last kiss.

***

Walking arm in arm with Sissy back to their house, David felt he had finally made peace with his children. On the porch Elizabeth stood with his saddlebag packed and held his rifle. When they reached the steps, Sissy leaned over to kiss David’s cheek.
“I think you and ma need some time alone.” Sissy walked up on the porch, paused to kiss her mother and then slipped into the kitchen.
“You must have said somethin’ right,” she murmured.
“I want to say somethin’ right to you too.”
“I made you some vittles.” Elizabeth thrust the pack and rifle toward him.
“I shouldn’t have said some things.”
“I’ve been rough with you, too.” She lowered the pack and rifle to the porch.
“I always believed you thought less of me for takin’ your money. It made me hate myself. It’s the man who’s supposed to supply money to his wife, not the other way around.”
“You mustn’t do that. You mustn’t never hate yourself. You didn’t take that money. I gave it to you willingly.”
“And I thought all these years the reason you looked at me the way you did was ‘cause you didn’t have no respect for me.”
“I was afraid of that. That’s why I never mentioned it.”
“I knew you was savin’ it, like some weapon, to use when you really got mad at me.”
“Oh no. Never.” Her arm impulsively went out. “Didn’t you know me better than that?”
“I guess not.” He looked down, ashamed of himself and wistful so many years were wasted. His eyes met hers with sincerity. “But I did love you.”
“I want to believe you did.”
“Maybe not exactly the same type of love I felt for Polly. That was a special love.”
“Like I loved James.” Her faced opened to old memories and emotions.”
“That’s right. I think you have to be young to love like that.”
“It certainly helps.” Elizabeth’s eyes softened.
“Now the kind of love I feel for you ain’t burnin’ fire but a nice comfortable glow that warms us even if we ain’t by each other’s side, which is good ‘cause I haven’t been by your side enough.”
“No need to apologize for that again.”
“But I still have to go today.”
“Why?” Her voice cracked a little.
“’Cause I’m afraid.”
“I know.” She stepped forward to take his hand. “You’ve been afraid of somethin’ for as long as I’ve known you.”
David sat on the porch, pulling Elizabeth down to his side. “It ain’t a fear of dyin’, but to die and to have nobody care.”
“I’d care,” she whispered.
“I know.” He squeezed her hand. “But I want people I don’t know—people who ain’t been born yet—to care that I lived and I died.” Memories of the years he spent wandering around Virginia overcame him, the loneliness and the fears. “You don’t know how it was to be on your own when you’re a youngin’. I was scared of a whippin’ at first. Then I was scared of bein’ alone. And scared of bein’ found out.”
“Found out for what?”
“For bein’ a liar.” He smiled in repentance. “I have to admit I turned lyin’ into a payin’ business.” Thoughts of Baltimore made his face twitch. “There was many a night that somebody could’ve slit my throat and thrown the carcass out. An unknown boy in an unknown grave.”
“My little boy—“
“That’s why I went back home to Morristown. At least if I dropped dead in Tennessee they’d say, ‘Why, there’s David Crockett lyin’ on the ground.”
“What a thing to say.” She rubbed his arm as she smiled gently.
“So behind the bluster of David Crockett, the Indian fighter, congressman and hunter is jest a scairt li’l runaway boy.” David looked deep into her eyes and saw love, compassion and understanding, everything he ever wanted from his wife. Leaning in, he kissed her lips.
“Don’t go,” she said in a choked whisper.
“You know I can’t stay,” he replied, his voice cracking. “I don’t have it in me to stay.”
“Don’t go, please. Don’t go.”
“Abner and the boys will be here anytime,” he said, standing.
“It’s my fault.” She grabbed his arm. “It’s both our faults. We always took for granted we didn’t love each other. We saw how we acted and thought we knew why. You’re not the only one who’s lonely. I guess I pushed you away when you was here ‘cause you was gone so much. But I ain’t pushin’ you away now. I’m beggin’ you to stay. Why won’t you stay? Why, oh, why?”

***

With his suitcase in hand, Dave turned away from the door but stopped short when he saw a rose pink Mercedes pull into his father’s driveway. Only one person had a Mercedes that color. Appearing from the car Tiffany, dressed in blue jeans and a tank top that showed her butterfly tattoo. Her hair pulled back in a ponytail, she smiled and walked up with an easy gait. He put down his suitcase and waited for her to reach him. He smiled and kissed her.
“Hi, honey.”
“I know you don’t want me here,” she began with deliberation, “but you can’t always get what you want.” Crossing her arms, Tiffany looked down. “I know that’s true because I’ve always gotten everything I’ve ever wanted.” She looked into his eyes. “Even you.” Soft laughter from her lips sounded sad. “When I walked into that news room the first night of my internship, you were bending over the desk, looking at a page proof or something. What a butt. Then you looked up, a smile on your face and those eyes wide in—oh, I don’t, innocence, openness, honesty—I don’t know what, but I fell in. The gentleness, kindness, patience. On top of that you knew exactly what to do, how to do it, do it fast and do it good. Not only a cute butt but an awesome brain. So I just had to have you. Just like I just had to have my first bike, a high school prom dress from Neiman-Marcus, a tattoo and a shiny pink Mercedes.”
Tiffany looked as though she were not proud of herself at this moment. “I was kind of surprised how easy it was to turn your head. You seemed hungry for attention. Then I clinched the deal by telling Daddy about you. His public relations director got a job in Houston with some oil company and Daddy didn’t know where to get another. After he called you in for an interview he told me you were perfect for the job.”
The perfect prostitute—no, he told himself—Vince was right about not beating himself over things he could not change.
“Sure enough, Daddy hired you, you got a divorce and we got married. Once again I thought I had gotten my way. But now I know I don’t have you at all.”
“I’m sorry.”
“No. I’m sorry.” She shook her head with remorse. “I’m such a fool. Daddy didn’t care that I wanted you in the job. He had about twenty applicants, and he said you were by far the best. He told me all this when I called to tell him your dad was sick and you had to go home. He actually lectured me. He didn’t want me to run you off. He wasn’t going to lose his best executive because I was a spoiled brat. Do you know what a shock it was to find out I’m not the center of the universe? You’re not a planet revolving around me.” She stared at him. “Do you still want a spoiled brat in your universe?”
“You’re not a spoiled brat, and yes I still want you.”
“Good.” Tiffany smiled. “I still want you too.” Her shoulders relaxed, and her face opened. “I had a nice long talk with Linda and the boys. They’re wonderful, by the way, and they love you very much. I like Linda too. She’s very real. She told me to tell you she holds no grudges. From the start she knew you needed more than she could give.” She grinned. “We talked it over and decided you needed someone to hold you and tell you everything is going to be all right.” Reaching out, she took his hand and squeezed it. “You know, you’re not the worst little boy in the world nor are you the best.” She held his hands up to her face. “I’m not giving up on you but I won’t be shut out.”
“I’m realizing that.”
“I know all about Allan. He had mental problems and was gay. Linda said he always wanted to be Bette Davis. That’s more interesting than my cousin who wants to be Billy Graham.”
Dave put his hands in his pants pockets and looked down. “I thought if you knew I had a crazy gay brother you wouldn’t love me anymore.” He paused to gather his thoughts. “You lived in such a perfect world. You couldn’t understand people who weren’t perfect.”
“Maybe you’re right,” she said, “but I’m willing to learn. You see, I really need you to help me grow up as much as you need me to tell you everything is going to be all right.” Looking over Dave’s shoulder, Tiffany saw Vince and Lonnie watching television inside. “Linda says Vince isn’t so bad as long as he’s not drinking, and your dad is really quite sweet and funny.” She walked past him toward the screen door. “Of course, I want to make my own decisions about them, so I’m going in now and introduce myself.”
“I’ve already told them I’m leaving.”
“Then leave, and I’ll see you back home in a few days.”