Davey squinted into the light flowing from the open door to see a large man dressed in sort of fancy suit, a sea captain perhaps. He had a black beard, and his eyes seemed small but merry.
“What are you doin’ out so late, lad?”
“I’m runnin’ away.”
“From what?”
“The men who killed my ma and pa. They said I was goin’ to be sold to pirates so I ran away.”
“I don’t believe it.”
Davy could not think straight because of Lula’s smell.
“You look like a country boy to me.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Sounds like you’re you’re from the mountains.”
“Yes, sir.”
“So why did you run away?”
“I don’t know,” he said. “You’re makin’ the boy nervous.”
She giggled, hugged Davy and went inside. He still could not get her scent out of his head.
“Jest got tired of seein’ nothin’ but trees? Wanted to find out if all those tales you heard about open seas was right? Jest wanted more out of life than mountains?”
“Yes, sir.”
“So you want to go to sea?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Well, you ran into the right ma.” He stuck out his hand. “I’m Captain Elmer Stasney, master of the Jezebel, headin’ for the Caribbean first of next week, and I need a cabin boy.” He looked Davy over. “How are old are you, boy?”
“Thirteen.”
“Strong boy, ain’t you?” He pawed Davy’s arms, shoulders and thighs.
“I guess.”
“What’s your name?”
“Davy Crockett.”
“Crockett? I met some French fellow once with a name that sounded close to Crockett, but not quite. Are your folks French?”
“I don’t know. This man was bigger than anyone Davy had ever met before, bigger in body, voice and manner, and he did not know what to make of him. “Pa always said his folks came from Ireland.”
Stasney grabbed Davy’s face in his large rough hands and pulled him into the lamplight. He nodded.
“Yep. No doubt about it. Black Irish.”
In the street light Davy could see Stasney’s feature more clearly, and they frightened him. His eyes were undersized and black surrounded by red veins. Half his teeth were missing. Those remaining were dark brown. Under the thick hairs of his beard were traces of multiple knife gashes. His nose was huge and bulbous, pitted and dirty.
“So what do you say, Davy Crockett?” he asked. “Want to see the Caribbean? Want to sail to Ireland? Want to see the dancin’ girls in Paris? Want to round Cape Horn and sail to islands where women never cover their bosoms?”
Stasney’s wicked smirk frightened him even more, but the captain’s tall tale about seeing the world made him ignore his better judgment.
“Yes, sir. I want to see all those things and more.”
“Good boy. You hungry?”
“Yes, sir.”
“I’ll take care of that.” Stasney led him back down the street and to the first pub where Davy looked in.
This time he was treated with respect. He was with an important man. The pub owner who yelled at him to go away changed his tune and nodded obediently when Stasney yelled out an order. Davy’s eyes widened when a trencher filled with fried fish and corn pone was placed in front of him. He took a small bite of the fish first. It did not taste like anything from a mountain stream but he liked it. Realizing how hungry he was, Davy crammed the fish into his mouth.
“Got some grease on your face,” Stasney said as he ran his rough fingers across Davy’s lips.
The pub owner bowed deeply as Stasney tossed a few coins his way and ushered Davy out the door and down the dark street.
“I always like to give young men a chance in life,” the captain said, putting his arm around his shoulders.
After a few minutes of winding through narrow lanes Davy heard water sloshing against boats and smelled salt in the air. They stopped on the dock to stare up at the schooner Jezebel and its two masts, fore-and-aft rigging swaying in the soft evening breeze.
“It’s thirty-six feet from stem to stern and twelve feet across,” Stasney said, bragging, his arm tightening around Davy’s shoulder and patting his arm. “Twenty-three tons in the water.” He paused. “Do you know what that means?”
“It means it’s big.”
“You don’t know your ciphers, do you, boy?”
“No.” His neck burned.
“Can you read the name of the ship?”
“It’s the Jezebel.”
“That’s what I told you.” He jerked on his arm with brusqueness and then patted him tenderly. “You got a good mind, Davy Crockett, but you ain’t got no education, do you?”
“I went to school a couple of weeks.”
“Don’t worry about it, boy,” Stasney said, pulling him closer to his sweat-drenched body. “I’ll teach you everythin’ you’ll ever need to know in this life.”

***

At the end of October, David loaded a pack on his horse, walked to his mother’s grave one last time, and squared his jaw to say good-bye to friends and neighbors gathered in his front yard. He hugged many of them and thanked them for their support through the years. He shook hands with Abner and William.
“Join me November first at the farm,” he told them.
David mounted his big chestnut and trotted down the path. A mile away he pulled up when he saw a tall, lean figure on a black mare, waiting for him at the fork of the road to Gibson County. David smiled and waved at John Wesley.
“Hello, pa,” he said in a soft, solemn voice.
“Pleased you came to say farewell.” He wished he could elicit a smile from his eldest son.
“William told me you were going to see mother and the family.”
“Yes.”
“That’s good.”
“They deserve a proper good-bye.”
“Of course they do.”
After a long embarrassing silence, David looked off and sighed from the depths of his soul. “I’m sorry I ain’t the man you wanted as a pa.”
“You’re the man the Lord meant you to be.” John Wesley smiled with affection. “You did just fine. What man wouldn’t be proud to have a congressman for a father? And I treasure the memories of all our hunting trips together.”
“Thank you.” David tried to compose himself. “You’re my first born. You done better than me. A lawyer. I did the best I could by you. I taught you all I knew.”
“Tell mother I’ll visit soon. I have to go to Memphis for a month.”
“Elizabeth always appreciated you callin’ her mother.”
“She’s the only mother I ever knew. I don’t remember my real mother much.”
“Polly was a good woman.” David nodded. “You got your goodness from her.”
“You better be on your way. You want to reach the farm before dark.” He prodded his horse to move closer. “And if I don’t see you again in this life, may God bless you.”
With a final nod David turned his chestnut east toward Elizabeth’s farm. He hurried down the dirt road, realizing his time to make amends with his family was drawing short.

***

“Puppy, didn’t you know the porch was gone?” Mrs. Burch called from her backyard.
“I do now.”
“Are you hurt?”
“No.”
“You fell a lot as a boy too.”
“Yes, I was always good for a laugh.”
“Yes, you were.”
“Excuse me, Mrs. Burch.”
With a quick step Dave walked around the house and walked up the front porch steps. He heard Vince and Lonnie talking.
“I wonder why Puppy doesn’t visit any more often.” Vince said it more as a statement than a question.
“Now don’t be hard on the Pup. He gets up here as often as he can. You know, he’s always been, you know, the nervous type, and I imagine it takes all his time just trying to stay normal.”
Dave rattled the screen door to let them know he was coming back. Both of them looked up, and Vince grabbed his stomach again and moaned.
“So what do you boys want for supper?” Lonnie blew his nose wand wiped mucous away with his hand, rubbing it on his pants leg.
“I’m not hungry,” Vince said.
“I can go to the supermarket,” Dave offered.
“If that’s what you want.” Lonnie reached for his wallet. “How much will you need?”
“I got it, Dad.” Dave turned to Vince. “Can I get you anything from the store? Pepto Bismol?”
“Shoot!” Lonnie shouted. “The game’s over, and I don’t know who won. Oh well, the Rangers probably lost. They always lose.” He looked at Vince and then at Dave. “Why don’t you go with the Pup? You boys don’t talk to each other enough.”
Vince moaned, rolled off the sofa and headed for the door with Dave. He stopped abruptly on the porch steps when he saw the car.
“A Jaguar! You got to be kidding!”
“It was a Christmas present.”
“Who gives a Jaguar as a Christmas present?”
“Tiffany’s father.” Dave unlocked the door and they slid into the seats. “You still work at Texas Instruments?”
“Oh yeah. Got promoted to line boss.”
“That’s good.” Dave started the engine.
“Let’s see, what is it that you do?”
“Vice president in charge of public relations.”
“I don’t think I know what that means.”
“I don’t either.” Dave gunned his engine as he drove off.
Vince did not pursue the conversation, and Dave did not offer any details. At the grocery store Dave got a cart and gripped the handle bar firmly as they walked to the deli section.
“They have good fried chicken,” Vince said.
“Yeah, Dad’ll like that. We better get some bread and lunch meat for tomorrow.” While they were waiting for their order, Dave asked, “What happened between Dad and Mrs. Dody?”
That old broad?
Dave stiffened. Allan was back.
“That old broad?” Vince muttered. He grunted and added, “It finally sunk into her skull that he wasn’t going to marry here.”
She’s the reason daddy kept putting me in the mental hospital. She thought he’d marry her with me out of the way.
“There’s got to more than that,” Dave said to Vince, taking the chicken from the clerk and putting it in his cart, rolling away in hopes of leaving Allan behind.
“Aw, the old man hit her.”
Good.
“She tried to pull a cigarette out of his mouth,” Vince said.
That’s what she deserved, after what she did to me.
“She got what she deserved,” Vince said. “She was always a bitch to me. Tried to tell Dad I was a drunk or something.”
After they picked up the bread and lunch meat and checked out, Dave and Vince drove back home as the sun began to set.
“I don’t know what got into me,” Vince said. “I’d go to the funeral if I wasn’t sick. I mean, I didn’t like Allan, but he was my brother, and I’d go to his funeral if I wasn’t puking.”
“Has it crossed your mind that it might not be Allan?”
“What do you mean? The guy from the halfway house identified him.”
“But he was badly burnt. How do they know it’s Allan? Dave had to know for sure. If he saw the body maybe Allan would go away. He turned right, driving west.
“What are you doing?”
“Going to the funeral home.”
“Why?”
“To view the body.”
Vince followed Dave into the funeral home but turned at once for the men’s room when a large man in a black suit approached them.
“Is he all right?”
“Just a flare up of the flu.” He paused. “I’d like to view my brother. Allan Crockett.”
“Oh, we hadn’t planned a viewing. The burns, you know.”
“I know. But I still want to see, to make sure. You understand.”
“Not really. I can’t stress enough how I think this is going to upset you more than you realize.”
“I understand, but I still want to see him.”
“Very well,” he said with a sigh and led Dave into a dark room where he turned on a light.
Across the room was a pine casket covered in a gray felt. The funeral director opened the top and stepped back. Dave walked to it and looked down. He could tell it was Allan, much older, more destroyed by life, grayer and not burned as badly as he expected. Chalky makeup covered the worst of the blisters. He stepped back.
“Thank you.”