Republic. I like the sound of the word. It means people can live free, talk free, go or come, buy or sell, be drunk or sober, however they choose. Some words give you a feeling. Republic is one of those words that makes me tight in the throat – the same tightness a man gets when his baby takes his first step or his first baby shaves and makes his first sound as a man. Some words can give you a feeling that makes your heart warm. Republic is one of those words.
Step down off your high horse, Mister. Ya don’t get lard less’n you boil a hog!
Travis says Fannin’s coming.
Let’s wet our whistles.
Never?
I’ve heard of such. Well, spread your wampum Travis.
Well, I’m a Colonel, too. Wouldn’t it sound kinda silly, us chattering, “Colonel, Colonel” like a couple of marsh shield birds? Just speak right up and call me Crockett, don’t bother to use my title. Old drunken General Flatford gave it to me in the Choctaw Indian War. I’ll call you Travis.
Why that’s a blasted lie! One of them stories loose-mouthed people tell around. Mike and me quit at sundown. Wouldn’t have been the fourth day until, uh, next morning. See ya’ men!
It was like I was empty. Well, I’m not empty anymore. That’s what’s important, to feel useful in this old world, to hit a lick against what’s wrong for what’s right even though you get walloped for saying that word. Now I may sound like a Bible beater yelling up a revival at a river crossing camp meeting, but that don’t change the truth none. There’s right and there’s wrong. You got to do one or the other. You do the one and you’re living. You do the other and you may be walking around, but you’re dead as a beaver hat.
We won’t have to. He’s wearing out horses coming towards us.
That’s alright. I’m glad there were enough of you sensible folks to vote me out of that office. Well, we can have us a good ol’ home talk-fest later, but right now I got to get my troops bedded down. Excuse me.
Well, I’m Crockett. They named me Davy after an uncle that didn’t leave Pa the farm after all.
