Ep 25 Wade Morrison Pt 1: The Boy Who Named Dr Pepper🥤The Untold Story😮

In the shadow of a nation torn by Civil War, a young boy in Christiansburg, Virginia, sweeps the floor of a quiet drug store—unaware that his path will one day lead to the naming of one of America’s most iconic sodas. This episode traces the early life of Wade Brockenbrough Morrison: The forming of his surroundings, childhood, boyhood, the backdrop of a civil war, into the heartbreak of his father’s death in 1866, and his first steps into manhood under the mentorship of a kindhearted physician named Dr. William Pepper. Through the quiet rituals of small-town life—church bells, peppermint drops, and the hiss of hand-mixed seltzer water—young Wade learns how to carry grief, serve others, and look ahead with hope.

As the town of Christiansburg limps through reconstruction, Wade finds a glimmer of light behind the counter of a pharmacy and the kindness of a girl named Minnie Pepper. But with each passing season, the question looms: will he stay where his roots were planted… or follow the call of a future only he can see?

Family History Drama. True Ancestry. Told like legend.

Transcript

Since his death in 1924, lore and legend still cling to the name Wade Brockenbrough Morrison—and the mysterious naming of that 23-flavored seltzer water, first poured in his Texas drugstore.

Even Paul Harvey took up the tale, retelling —The Rest of the Story—some 40 years ago.

A young pharmacist.

A forbidden love.

A name used not to flatter—but to sting.

Today, with instant access to family records and census ink, several new threads emerge—A discovery not wrapped in paper & ribbon, not lost in ancient ruin, but found in a census entry, halted at the first letter…a cursive “P”. 

And overwritten by a most familiar word then, of which few know of, now.

This isn’t just a soda story, it’s the heartbeat of small-town America—a story of merchants and soil, grief and gumption. Of a broken nation, slowly learning how to rise—and live that rising… the hard and human way.

Part One:  – "A Boy Named Morrison"

NARRATOR :

Many years ago, Before there was fountain tonics or soda water, there was born a little town in the southwestern hills of Virginia. A place where the wagon roads crossed and the railroads would one day hum.

A place where the Native American presence was still strong in the early days, particularly the Shawnee and Cherokee.

They called it Hans Meadows…at first—

It was a patch of red clay and dogwood groves settled by Scots-Irish and German families, where log homes leaned into the wind and the musket shots from the hunts of wild turkey & white dear, echoed through the ridgelines.

In 1792, when the county lines were drawn and a courthouse went up, the name changed—to Christiansburg. Named for Colonel William Christian—a Revolutionary War veteran, landowner, and brother-in-law to the Patrick Henry himself who fought along the frontier and helped steady this young republic as it stretched westward. “Give me liberty, or give me death!” That Patrick Henry. 

This was no backwoods whistle-stop. Daniel Boone passed through these hills. Davy Crockett once apprenticed in Christiansburg to a local hatter. And as the country grew, so did the town—from dirt paths to brick storefronts, from saddlebags to stagecoaches, and finally, to iron rails and telegraph wire.

By the mid-1800s, something else moved through Christiansburg. Something harder to track. The ache of a country tearing itself apart. A quiet tension in the way neighbors said hello—and didn’t say more. And yet…even in those years, life carried on.

The air in southwestern Virginia hung thick with late-summer heat—Rain had passed through just before dawn. It was a Wednesday, the 19th of August, 1852. The ground steamed under the rising sun, lifting the scent of red clay and crushed pokeweed into the breeze.

And in a modest home along a dusty lane just east of Main Street, 24 year old Caroline Anderson gave birth to her first child…a baby boy they named Wade Brockenbrough Morrison.

His first name came from his maternal surname. The middle from his paternal grandfather’s first name. His last name, well, that was from his proud daddy, 31 year old bank officer, John Morrison. The world Wade was born into was quiet—but restless. There were no Union blues or rebel grays on the streets…yet, but…the cracks were already forming.

Across the country, President Millard Fillmore was defending a fragile peace,
while in nearby Montgomery County, Virginia, plantation wealth, hard labor, and proud tradition kept life moving forward—for some, anyway.

Just across the hills, the Virginia & Tennessee Railroad was laying new track. A ribbon of iron that would, before long, pull this sleepy Southern town into the firestorm of the Civil War. But all of that would come later.

For now, the Morrison family had a new mouth to feed. And young Wade—like the town itself—had no idea what was coming. What kind of man he'd become. Or how, years later, his name would find its way to the plains of Texas, and into the heart of an American legend.

NARRATOR (gentle, observational):
By the time Wade Morrison could walk, he was running. Down chalky red roads, through fencerows of blackberry and sassafras, and toward Toms Creek, where the boys caught minnows with bare hands and dared each other to swallow em whole…and live OR jump from the overhead sycamore limb into the deep bend in the creek. 

And always—always—there was the sound of the railroad. The Virginia & Tennessee line, they called it. But folks around Christiansburg knew the spur that curved off toward Blacksburg as the Huckleberry Railroad.

Legend said it moved so slow, a rider could hop off, pick a handful of huckleberries, and still catch the same train before it left sight.

To an adventurous child like Wade, it was magical. Iron and steam stitched into his earliest memories. A promise that somewhere out there—beyond the woods and the wash lines—the world was in motion. But the world around him wasn’t all trains and minnows. There were things a boy could sense, even if no one said them out loud.

At the top of Main Street stood Dr. William Pepper’s pharmacy. A tall man, stern-eyed, with a voice like polished oak. Wade liked him. Most folks did. He was educated, neat, and came from a well respected family. 

Wade saw things he didn’t understand. Things that weren’t congruent with Sunday’s sermons, or what he was being learned from the family bible. Wade was observant. He noticed who came in the back door and who used the front. Who held their head high, and who kept their eyes down. And something about it stayed with him.

Christiansburg was a place caught between two different worlds. Steam engines and slave auctions. Cotton fields and train timetables. Gospel choirs and rifle drills. And Wade Morrison was just one barefoot boy growing up in its shadow. But he wouldn’t stay small forever.

Scene 1 : The Pharmacy

SETTING:
Dr. William Pepper’s pharmacy in downtown Christiansburg, Virginia. Late afternoon in summer. A bell rings as the door opens. Bottles glint in the window. The air smells of camphor, tobacco, and beeswax.

DR. PEPPER :
That you again, Morrison boy?

WADE:
Yes, sir. Name’s Wade. Mama says thank you for the liniment. Her knee's better.

DR. PEPPER:
She rub it twice a day like I said?

WADE:
Yes, sir. I gave her your instructions.

DR. PEPPER :
You’re a good son. What can I do for you today?

WADE:
I came to ask if you needed any help around here. I can sweep. I know my letters too—I could help with labels.

DR. PEPPER :
Can you now? What made you think of that?

WADE:
Well, I saw you talking to Sheriff Albright about that man who took the bottle without paying… and I figured maybe you could use someone who notices things.

DR. PEPPER :
You’ve got eyes on you, that’s clear.

WADE:
And ears too. Mama says I hear things I shouldn’t.

DR. PEPPER :
That’s the beginning of either a doctor or a preacher.

WADE:
Yes, sir.

DR. PEPPER: Well Wade, how old are you son?

WADE: 12 sir.

DR. PEPPER :
12 huh? Tell you what. Come by tomorrow after school….You can sweep the floor and clean the glass jars. Dust makes medicine look like poison. But remember, you break one, It’ll come out of your pay.

WADE (grinning):
I won’t break anything, sir.

DR. PEPPER:
Good.

MINNIE: Hi Wade

WADE: Hi Minnie

DR. PEPPER: i see you know my daughter 

WADE: Yes sir. We go to school together. 

MINNIE: papa, mama wants to know what time you’ll be home for supper?

DR PEPPER: i will be right along dear. Just getting Wade oriented with his new duties. He will be helping out here at the store. 

MINNIE: thats nice Wade. I guess we’ll see each other more often.

WADE: Yes…i guess so.

MINNIE: Bye papa, see you at school Wade.

WADE: bye Minnie

DR PEPPER: I’ll see you tomorrow after school Wade.

WADE: thank you sir.

DR PEPPER: Mhm

NARRATOR:
Wade pursued employment at an early age. He was eager to be about doing things that mattered. As a young boy, Wade didn’t always understand everything he was seeing around town. What was commonplace for a man, felt kinda outta place for a boy. Yet, Wade understood enough. And when the war came through town, when rails were torn up, the train depot burned down, and the town hollowed out—he’d remember those summer days: the clink of bottles, the smell of camphor, tobacco, beeswax, and the kind man who paid him 65 cents a week to sweep, clean, watch…and learn.
The war is ending, the town is bruised, and young Wade finds himself caught between the familiarity of Christiansburg and the stirrings of a future he can’t yet name. Here’s a dramatized script scene set in April 1865, shortly after Wade begins working at Dr. Pepper’s pharmacy, with rising tension in the air and a warm spark between Wade and Minnie Pepper. This also introduces Reverend Charles A. Miller and subtly foreshadows Wade’s eventual departure.

Part 2 – “April in Ashes”
Scene 2 : The Pharmacy, April 1865

SETTING:
Dr. Pepper’s pharmacy on E. Main Street, Christiansburg, Virginia. Late afternoon. The town is tense — Union troops have just ridden in under Stoneman, and rumor spreads that Lee has surrendered. The war is ending, but no one knows what peace will feel like.

MINNIE (softly):
Did you see the Union soldiers riding in today?

WADE:
Yes, ma’am. Their boots were cleaner than ours. Sheriff Albright gave 'em a look like he’d swallowed vinegar.

MINNIE:
You’re funny, Wade Morrison.

WADE (flustered):
Well… I try. I mean… not really. I just—notice things.

MINNIE:
I’ve noticed you. Always quiet while you work…but always watching.

WADE:
You come in just to see me?

MINNIE (smiling coyly):
Maybe I come in for peppermint drops. Maybe I come in ‘cause I know someone’ll save the last one for me.

WADE (shyly):
I always do.

REVEREND MILLER :
Afternoon young man. Minnie….is your father around?

MINNIE:
He’s mixing cough tonic, Reverend. I’ll fetch him.

REVEREND: Thank you dear.

REVEREND MILLER :
Hey…You're the Morrison’s boy, aren't you? Minnie said you were sweeping floors and keeping your nose clean.

WADE:
Yes, sir. Trying to be useful.

REVEREND MILLER:
That’s good. This town’s gonna need boys who turn into men real fast. Church is meeting Sunday. I expect you’ll be there?

WADE (hesitating):
Yes, sir. I reckon I will. Reverend Miller…Things feel… different.

REVEREND MILLER:
They are, son. The world’s turning under your feet. Keep both eyes open.

DR. PEPPER:
Charles. I figured you’d stop in. Come back to my office.

WADE (fumbling):
Minnie…When this war settles… you think things’ll be better?

MINNIE (softly):
I think they’ll be different. Better depends on who’s telling the story.

WADE:
Then maybe I’ll find a way to tell it right.

MINNIE (smiling faintly):
I think you will, Wade Morrison.

REVEREND MILLER:
We’ll talk more Sunday. Thank you, William…children 

DR. PEPPER (to Wade):
That man’s going to have his hands full with this town. You too, if you stick around long enough.

WADE:
Yes, sir.

DR. PEPPER:
Minnie, don’t linger. Soldiers are camped near the depot. I want you home before dusk.

MINNIE:
I’ll go now. Bye papa. Bye Wade.

DR. PEPPER (softly):
“You’ve got your eye on a girl and a country both changing fast. I suppose that’s how a boy becomes a man.”

WADE :
Yes, sir.

DR. PEPPER :Our community is lucky to have the work ethic of young men like you Wade.

WADE : Thank you sir. Thats very kind of you to say. 

DR. PEPPER : i can lock up tonight Wade. Why don’t you head home for supper. Your mama makes the best southern Appalachian chow-chow i have ever known. 

WADE : she sure she does. Thank you sir…Will i see you at church on Sunday?

DR PEPPER : that you will. This country’s gonna need some churchin to heal us outta this war.

 “The Surrender Sermon”
Scene 3 : Town Church, Christiansburg, VA – Sunday Evening, April 9, 1865

SETTING:
A modest wood-frame church with oil lanterns flickering. The air is thick with the scent of pine pews, candle wax, and damp coats. It’s crowded. Families sit silently, heavy with four years of war. Outside, rain begins to fall. The clock ticks past six.

Narrative: 

The sun was low on the horizon when the bell atop the modest frame church rang out over Christiansburg, steady and slow. Inside, the pews were full—neighbors shoulder to shoulder, coats damp from a misting spring rain, hands folded, eyes dim with the toll of four long years. It was Palm Sunday, April 9, 1865. A day meant for hosannas and hope—but few dared whisper either aloud.

Oil lanterns hissed softly along the walls, casting warm shadows on pine-slab pews and hymnals thumb-worn by grief. The smell of candle wax, wet wool, and wood smoke mingled with the hush of a people not yet sure how to breathe again. Somewhere in the crowd sat young Wade Morrison, hair still damp from the walk, his father & mother beside him, her fingers white around a handkerchief. Across the aisle, Mary Ann Pepper—Minnie—sat with her father, Dr. William Pepper, and younger brother John, her gaze occasionally slipping toward the boy who swept her father’s drugstore.

REVEREND MILLER (steady, grave):
Good evening, brothers and sisters. Thank you for braving the chill and the rain to come together on this Palm Sunday evening. I know some of you walked miles to be here. And I know—these past four years… have felt like walking through fire.

We have buried fathers, sons, and neighbors. We have wondered how to pray for both sides when both bled the same. And we’ve asked the Lord—again and again—when this long night might end.

COURIER (whispered):
Reverend. Telegram.

WADE (to his father): What is it papa?

JOHN MORRISON: Something urgent son…thats for sure. You don’t interrupt a sermon for nothin. 

REVEREND MILLER : Ask and ye shall receive…the sun has set on a long night of war. This Palm Sunday, around 1pm…General Robert E. Lee surrendered to Union forces at the Court House in Appomattox.

The war… is over.

REVEREND MILLER (pausing, then softly):
I don’t know what you feel in this moment. Relief. Grief. Confusion. Bitterness. Uncertainty. I feel all of it, too. Yet above all, i feel… hope. A hope in Jesus Christ to heal this nation…and help this community.

Some folks will tell you it’s foolish—childish, even—to believe this world can still be made better. They say it’s superstition to hope… when all you’ve known is sorrow.

Yes, it’s true—There are times when evil seems to run ahead of good, when darkness moves faster than the dawn. But even so—without our asking, and beyond our deserving—there comes a morning when the frost begins to loosen, and the wind, at last, changes direction…that is when the thaw begins.

So yes—In this hour, in this broken land, I choose to hope.

WADE (whispering):
Do you think it’s true Papa?

JOHN MORRISON:
I think it has to be son.

NARRATOR:
In a church lit by lanterns and an urgent telegram, a town exhaled for the first time in four years. The war was over. Or at least ending. But the real work—the rebuilding, the forgiving, the remembering—was just beginning.

Wade Morrison didn’t know what would become of his country, but that night, as voices filled the rafters, he began to believe again…that there could be a summer after such a winter.

“The Walk Home”
Scene 4 : Streets of Christiansburg, Virginia – Sunday Night, April 9, 1865

SETTING:
The rain has stopped, but the ground is still wet. Gas lamps flicker dimly on the few main streets. Most houses are dark — families sitting quietly with their own thoughts. The church behind them fades as Wade and Minnie walk, the only sounds are wet shoes on dirt and the occasional wind in the trees.

WADE (quietly):
That was the first time I’ve ever seen your pa cry Minnie.

MINNIE (nodding):
He didn’t even cry when the news came about Uncle Emory at Cold Harbor.
But tonight… it felt like he was closing the last page of a long book.

WADE:
Think it’s really over?

MINNIE:
The fighting is. But peace… peace is a slower thing.

WADE (thoughtful):
Reverend Miller said something tonight I can’t shake. That part about the wind turning…About the thaw.

MINNIE:
I liked that, too. Sometimes I feel like time’s been frozen since I was 6. That first year we stopped having Christmas because of the mourning.

WADE (looking up):
You see that?

MINNIE (looking skyward):
The stars?

WADE:
Clearer than they’ve been all year. Like the sky finally exhaled.

MINNIE (softly):
Maybe heaven was holding its breath with us.

WADE :
Minnie…If things do change…If the roads open up again, and people go west, or north, or anywhere but here—Would you hate me if I was one of them?

MINNIE (stops walking):
No.

WADE (surprised):
You wouldn’t?

MINNIE:
I'd miss you so much I’d taste it. But no… I wouldn’t hate you.

WADE (softly):
I think about it sometimes. A new place. No scars in the dirt. No ghosts in the windows.

MINNIE (after a moment):
Even if you do go, you won’t ever be gone. Not to me. You’re stitched into this town—just like the Huckleberry tracks.

WADE (laughs gently):
Even if they call it the slowest train in Virginia?

MINNIE:
Slow trains still carry people home Wade Morrison.

WADE: That they do Minnie. That they do.

NARRATOR:

On the night the war ended, two youngin’s walked the muddy streets of Christiansburg, not yet knowing they were walking the seam between one world and the next. Nearly four years of bloodshed had left the nation fractured, with fires still smoldering long past the surrender at Appomattox. In a town where one predominant family had buried eighteen sons, grief had taken up residence beside every porch and chapel. Wade Morrison kept sweeping the pharmacy floor, even as the country swept up its dead and its promises. Churches reopened their doors—not just to worship, but to rebuild souls. And though she never said it aloud, Minnie Pepper kept a quiet space in her heart for the boy who always saved her the last peppermint drop. In a town learning how to heal, their young love remained one small thing untouched by war—something still pure.

“A Tonic for the Road”

Scene 5:Dr. Pepper’s Pharmacy, Late Afternoon, Autumn 1866

WADE :Good afternoon, Mr. Hatcher.

MR. HATCHER :Afternoon, Wade. Your hands steady enough yet to work that fountain?

WADE :Yes, sir. Doc says I pour straighter than a rifle barrel. 

MR. HATCHER:Then fetch me a glass of soda water with that sassafras syrup your boss makes. Just a finger’s worth. I don’t need a full measure—just a cool breath and a sweet thought.

WADE :Yes, sir. One sassafras tonic, coming up.

MR. HATCHER :Used to be I’d take a whiskey after a long ride. But the long summer burned the thirst outta me. Autumn just feels like cool weather, changing leaves, and some bubbly sweet soda water.

WADE :Doc says not everything that heals comes from a bottle.

MR. HATCHER : No… but some things sure help. Tell him this hit the spot.

WADE: I will. Bye Mr Hatcher.

Hatcher: Pardon me young lady.

Minnie: thank you Mr Hatcher. Come on Johnny.

Minnie: Hi Wade

Wade: Hi Minnie. What are you and Johnny up to today?

Minnie: Just getting his wiggles out. Mama said a 6 year old needs fresh air often.

Wade: This autumn air in Virginia is some of the best. Hey…I been working on a special syrup & soda water just for you.

Minnie: Just for me? Well gosh Wade, how could I not?

Wade: how old are you now Johnny?

Johnny: 6 last Sunday.

Wade: SIX! Good golly. Well a 6 year olds gets his own glass. Thats the rules ya know.

Johnny: Really? Wow!

Wade: Mhm…let me know what you think?

Minnie: I do believe you got a knack for the bubbly Wade. Thats delicious.

Wade: ain’t it though. So glad you like it Minnie. What about you birthday boy.

Johnny: it tastes prickly…like how my feet feel when they fall asleep. 

JOHNNY: I could drink ten of those.

WADE: Best pace yourself, Johnny. You’ll float home if you drink too much.

MINNIE: Floating might be easier to manage than the scampering he does. I think he’s part squirrel. You’re getting mighty good with the soda water Wade.

WADE:  Well, I am 14 now. And Dr. Pep…i mean…your papa says my pouring’s gotten mighty accurate. “Measure twice, pour once,” right?

MINNIE: You say that every time. Like it’s a spell.

WADE: Well….Maybe it is. Keeps things from spilling all over the place… or going wrong. The leaves are dropping faster each day. You can smell winter coming.

MINNIE: Mama’s already talking about Thanksgiving. She says this year’s special… the first day of Thanksgiving and prayer since the war ended.

JOHNNY: She’s makin’ a sweet apple pie and squirrel stew just for me. I heard her say so!

WADE: From what you sissy just said, you might be careful where she sources that squirrel meat. What’s your family planning this year Minnie? 

MINNIE: We’ll pray together. Eat. And sing, like always. We better get home before this weather gets too crazy. I can barely manage johnny as it is. Bye Wade.

WADE: Bye Minnie

JOHNNY: thank you for the sleepy feet drink Wade.

WADE: I dont think we’d sell many of them with that name. But you’re welcome Johnny. Happy belated birthday. 

MINNIE: You’ll save me the last peppermint drop, won’t you Wade Morrison?

WADE: Always.

SCENE 6 – “The Stream”

Fall 1866 – the day Wade’s father died

SETTING:
(November 14, 1866) A woman’s crying and wailing fades into sounds of a river gurgling and birds chirping. It’s autumn in Virginia. A quiet stream just beyond town, bordered by tall grass and sycamore. It’s a hidden place, known only to a few. The sky is overcast. The autumn leaves are starting to fall, and the air is damp and still.

NARRATOR :

The autumn of 1866 came on with brilliant golds and glossy crimson. The sugar maples were blazing like torches along the ridge, Beech leaves were bronze and fluttering like old paper, and the white oaks burning low in purple-gray embers, while their acorns lay scattered across the forest floor.

Wade was only 14 when the notice came of his father’s untimely death on November 14th, 1866. Wade’s uncle, Dr William Anderson Wade submitted just one word on John Morrison’s Cause of death: “Unknown.”

His father…a youthful 45. No fever. No fall. No wound. Just gone.

Wade didn’t wait for the prayers or the condolences.He ran—He ran past the mill road, through the pole fence, and down the familiar slope to the water’s edge.

Overhead, a black gum tree spilled scarlet across the creekbank, and sassafras leaves swirled in yellow and red at his boots.

Wade was inconsolable, to most. Yet there was one person who always knew where to find him, and how to reach him.

MINNIE :
I was hoping to find you here.

WADE :
Go away, Minnie.

MINNIE:
No.

WADE:
I don’t want anyone to see me like this.

MINNIE :
I’m not “anyone”.

WADE: how’d you find me?

MINNIE :
You were the one who told me the river always knows what to do with sadness.

WADE:
I thought if I came here, it would carry it off. But it just… stays.

MINNIE :
Mama says when someone passes, the hurt moves into the people who stay behind. That’s why it feels heavy. Because we’re carrying them now.

WADE:
He was fixing the barn roof. Same as any day. He smiled at me that morning.

MINNIE:
Death doesn’t make a lot of sense most times. 

WADE (whispers):
He was the strongest man I knew.

MINNIE:
He still is. Maybe that part of him belongs to you now. 

WADE: Maybe

NARRATOR:
That afternoon, the forest held its breath with him. And as the sun sank low over Christiansburg, Wade Morrison let himself break—not into pieces, but into seasons.

Minnie didn’t seek to comfort Wade, how could anyone in such a raw moment. No, Minnie just wanted to grieve with him. Thats what he, and we need most in those moments. 

The following Sunday, they buried John Morrison in the Christiansburg cemetery,
his coffin was lowered into red clay earth beneath a sky full of crows. Reverend Miller read from Isaiah…and prayed. Though no one could name the cause of death. Everyone knew the cost.

🎭 SCENE 7 – “After the Burial”
Setting: Dr. Pepper’s Pharmacy – November Evening, 1866

DR. PEPPER (from behind the counter, without turning):
Wade? Didn’t think I’d see you today. So soon i mean.

WADE (softly):
I didn’t want to be home. It’s too... still.

DR. PEPPER (nods, pausing):
Grief don’t like stillness. It grows in the corners.

DR. PEPPER:
You don’t need to work, Wade.

WADE:
I know. I just… I needed to be somewhere with rhythm. With motion.

DR. PEPPER (quietly):
Your father was a good man. His industry as a merchant benefited nearly every person in this town. And somehow, he still made time to raise a boy with backbone.

WADE (voice catching):
He left so quickly….he didn’t say goodbye.

DR. PEPPER:
Most men don’t. They leave behind half-built things. That’s why the rest of us keep going — to finish them.

WADE:
I don’t feel finished.

DR. PEPPER (after a pause):
You’re not. But you’re not alone either.

DR. PEPPER:
You can keep sweeping floors and mixing syrups here as long as you want. But if you ever need more than a job—someone to talk to…someone to listen—you know where I’ll be.

WADE :
Yes, sir.

NARRATOR:
That winter, Wade Morrison swept floors, stacked jars, and listened to the quiet voice of a man who never asked to be a father again… but became one all the same.

In the back room of a pharmacy, among the scent of clove oil and tonic powder,
grief settled into something steady—a kind of love that didn’t need to be spoken to be real.

So now you know the boy—Wade Morrison. He wasn’t born a legend. He wasn’t even born lucky. But by fourteen, he’d seen what sorrow does to people… and what kindness could do right back. He found purpose behind the counter of a pharmacy in Christiansburg, Virginia… in a time when healing was more than medicine.

In part 2, we’ll find out what happens when the boy grows up… when the road stretches west… and when a farewell lasts longer than a lifetime. 

Please join me in the next episode, for part two, and the rest of this story.