A Tale of Two Legacies Read online

  Chapter 4

  Harrell Wade had never been west of the Mississippi. In fact, he had only seen the Mississippi once before when he was quite young. His ma and pa took him on a vacation trip to Memphis to visit Graceland and the King. His favorite memory, though, was the scaled replica of the Mississippi River watershed on Mud Island. That rather faded memory, however, did not help him here and now at Greenville. The river was in flood. Levees were being blasted upstream near Cairo trying to alleviate the flow. Dire warnings were publicized daily. Wade thought it best that he not tarry too long in these parts.

  Having spent the night in Greenville, he headed northwest early the following morning towards Mena, Arkansas. He knew it would be a long day since the route his pa specified was one back road after another. It would have been faster, albeit a few miles longer, to go via Pine Bluff and Hot Springs, but Wade knew there would be hell to pay with his pa if anything untoward occurred. The temptation was great too because Wade had read several books about Hot Springs’ sin city days in a bygone era and he thought it might be worth seeing. He was also aware of Arkansas’ Crater of Diamonds State Park that was reasonably close to his designated route and he had heard that for a small fee you could dig for diamonds to your heart’s content. He was beginning to feel hamstrung by his pa’s dictated path while he yearned to be foot-loose and fancy-free.

  According to the schedule, he was to spend the night some 40 miles short of Mena in a town called Mt. Ida. He found a reasonably good-looking motel for the night and checked in, but he had unexpectedly made such good time that he decided to drive over to Mena for a preliminary look-see. Mena was a smaller town than he would have guessed and Ouachita Memories was closed for the day. Skip Calvin was his contact here and Wade was to exchange one package for another. Obviously, this call couldn’t have much to do with catalytic converters since a walk-by peek in the window revealed nothing but Ozark handicrafts, posters, knickknacks, and other tourist stuff. Info on the door told Wade that Ouachita Memories would not open the next day until 11:00 AM. Returning to Mt. Ida, Wade was grateful that he could have a leisurely catfish dinner at a diner on Lake Ouachita and, with plenty of daylight still, watch the fishermen and boaters awhile before turning in at his motel.

  Skip Calvin proved to be not one of Wade’s favorite people. Not only did he not open his shop until eleven in the morning forcing Wade to cool his heels even after a right lengthy breakfast, but, when Wade introduced himself several minutes after eleven, Mr. Calvin seemed like a flighty and overly nervous type of person. Apparently, Skip didn’t think much of Wade either because he seemed to want to expedite the transaction as much as possible even though no other customers were in the shop. He took Wade’s rather small package, pretty much akin to the package Wade delivered to Billy Joe Beeson, disappeared in the office in the back, and returned with a heavily wrapped package that resembled a large serving tray in size and barely less so in weight. No offer for lunch ensued and conversation was minimal. Fortunately, the package fit snugly on the floor of the trunk of his car. Skip Calvin stood at the front window of his shop, waved as Wade closed the trunk, then disappeared into the darker interior. Wade shrugged his shoulders, got in his car, and headed for Oklahoma. Although his pa had told him he had no need to know the contents of his business packages, Wade’s educated guess was that he had just paid a significant bundle of money for a painting of some sort.

  Next stop was Lubbock, Texas, and it was to take Wade two days to get there. Although they made for slow driving, he liked the hills of Oklahoma and he was eating quite well. On across the Red River into Texas, Wade had some barbecue at a small place in Vernon that was the best he had ever had. His contact in Lubbock was a Mr. Joe Don Sutherland at the Hubber Pharmacy. Joe Don was a casual gregarious soul and Wade liked him.

  “You Rose Harrison’s boy?” asked Joe Don.

  “Well, yes, I am, but she died about seven years ago.”

  “Yes, I know. Tragic loss. She was a fine woman, Jeremiah’s favorite daughter. Your pa is apparently getting along okay though. I tell you he is one astute businessman. And there is lots of activity going on these days. Another of his deliverymen, the one from L.A., passed through here just three, maybe four days ago, going the other way - heading east for Tennessee. Well, I guess you have a shipment for me. Let’s have a look at them.”

  Wade was breathing somewhat easier now since his inventory no longer contained any of the smaller presumably cash packages. Joe Don opened the box that Wade presented him revealing rather large sacks of several kinds of pills. “Yep, looks as good as what’s made here in the states. They work the same magic. And I make considerably more money on them. Pity the day when the government butts out. If you’re not in a big hurry, I’ll treat to dinner and a baseball game tonight.”

  After the encounter with Skip Calvin, this was like night and day. Wade felt a camaraderie with Joe Don and truly relaxed for the first time on his trip to New Mexico. And there were only several more items on his list...so far so good.