ALEX: Afternoon tae ye, Wade. Delivery here for Mister William Pepper, there is.
Wade: Hi Alex. Whatcha got there?
ALEX: Couple oâ crates, full oâ glass bottlesâyour tinctures anâ tonics, Iâd wager.
Had to give the mule a wee reminder it was a delicate loadânot some sack of oats.
Stubborn beast near pitched a fit halfway up the lane.
Wade: nice, weâve been expecting you.
Alex: Gie us a haun tae unload, anâ Iâll no be lingerinâ.
Wade: Letâs get er done lad
Narrator: When we left Wade Morrison in the previous episode, he was a boy with a broom and a heavy heartâsweeping floors, serving up flavored seltzer waters, and polishing medicine bottles in the small town drug store in Christiansburg, Virginia. A few years make all the difference. Now heâs older. Taller. More experienced. And lifeâs giving him harder questions. His widowed mamaâs seeking new love. His employer and mentor still steadies him. But Texas? Well⌠that word starts whispering louder every day.
And soon, itâll be more than just a word. Itâll be a ticket, a journey, and a turning point. Welcome to part 2 of the Wade Brockenbrough Morrison story.
đ SCENE 1 â âThe Soda and the Scotâ
WADE: just set the last of them right there Alex. William will be happy they arrived.
ALEX: Thank youâ, Wade. Itâs always quicker work with some helpâŚ.While Iâm here, think youâve got anything for a bruised ego and a sunburned neck?
WADE: You been workinâ or flirtinâ again?
ALEX: Both. And not sure which did me in worse. Lass down by the feed store said I talk like a bagpipe that sprung a leak.
WADE: A leaky bagpipe? (Chuckling) Thatâs not far off.
ALEX: Aye, but charming, right?
WADE: Just a moment. I got something thatâll fix you up.
Try this. Sassafras, ginger, and a splash of peppermint. Wonât fix your pride, but it might make your day taste better.
ALEX: Ooh. Saints alive. Thatâs a bonnie brew. Tastes like Christmas and a punch in the throat.
WADE: Iâll take that as a compliment.
ALEX: Thanks for the heart tonic, Wade. Have a good afternoon, aye?
WADE: You too, Alex. And tell the girl at the feed store⌠a leaky bagpipe still plays a tune.
NARRATOR : The drugstore was small, but to Wade, it was the whole worldâa place where medicine and conversations converged, and where a misfit, or even a Scot with a sunburn and a bruised ego could leave smiling.
In the coming years, life moved on, as it does. And so it did for the Morrison family. Wadeâs widow mother Caroline found love again with a county court judge by the name of John Newton Lyle. He was a younger man in his early 30âs, never married. Wade was 16 when they tied the knot in November of 1868. Caroline in her early 40âs would be considered in todayâs jargon, one of the original Eastern Cougars. Their union brought two more boys into the familyâŚJohn Newton in 1870 & Harry Walker in 1871.
SCENE 2
It was the summer of 1870. The evening air smelled of fresh cut hay, honeysuckle, and the scent of distant woodsmoke drifting in the air. On a dusty road outside Christiansburg, lined with poplars and creeks traveled a modest buggy â it was a borrowed rig from Minnieâs fatherâs stable.
MINNIE :
Youâre gonna ruin your reputation Wade Morrison, taking a girl out past the bend without a chaperone.
WADE :
I am almost 18 Minerva. Your papa trusts me. Or heâs just too tired to argue anymore.
MINNIE:
Heâs too tired from all those meetings with Reverend Miller. School board, Freedmenâs aid, widow funds⌠Christiansburgâs half meetings now, half memory.
WADE :
Better than half burned Minerva Louise
MINNIE :
You are the only one allowed to call me that Mr Wade MorrisonâŚ.wow. Gosh Wade, Is this where the Hinkles live?
WADE:
Yesâm. Right up in that thicket. Folks say they donât even come into town. Sheriff says theyâre more animal than man. But thatâs just how people talk when theyâre scared of what they donât understand.
MINNIE :
I see someoneâtwo little ones, maybe. No shoes.
WADE :
Thatâd be Moses and Nancy. I think the older ones are half-feral trying to raise âem. Daniel Hinkle came back from the war with no land and no voice left in him. They been in the woods ever since.
MINNIE:
And no one helps?
WADE:
We barely help the folks in the poor house. Letâs ride on a bit further and Iâll show you.
MINNIE :
Youâve changed, Wade. You donât talk like other boys.
WADE:
Maybe I just see more than most. Working at your fatherâs shop, Iâve seen war wounds that didnât bleed. Quiet men. Sick women. Hollow-eyed children. It stays with you.
MINNIE:
I think about those people in the ledger sometimes. The ones Papa calls âinfirmâ or âdestitute.â Their names stay in my head longer than the names in novels.
WADE:
Here we are.
WADE :
Thatâs Jackson Kirbyâmanâs over eighty, lost two sons in the war and a home to a fire. Polly Kirby walks the porch like sheâs looking for them still. That over there is Sarah Damonâshe canât speak, just hums to herself. And see that little girl with curls?
MINNIE:
Julia?
WADE:
Yesâm. Her mamaâs in there too. Priscilla. The Taylors all live here now. All they got left is one another.
MINNIE :
This is what we became. A broken town with broken people.
WADE:
But weâre still here, Minnie. That counts for something.
MINNIE :
What do you think youâll become?
WADE :
Sometimes I think Iâll stay. Be a fixture like your father, mixing medicine and minding folks.
Other times⌠I dream about Texas.
MINNIE :
Texas?
WADE:
Mhm. Wide land. Fresh start. No ghosts. Just the sky and what you make of it.
MINNIE :
If you go, I wonât try and stop you. But Iâll never forget the boy who showed me where our town hides its hurting.
WADE : I donât want you to forget.
WADE: whatcha thinkin Minerva?
MINNIE: ah its nothin
WADE: hmmm. Howâs about a peppermint candy in trade for that little ânothinâ thatâs on your mind Ms Minnie Pepper.
MINNIE : Sometimes I think Papa treats you more like family than Iâve ever seen him do with anyone. Heâs never laughed as much as when youâre around. I think⌠losing your father made him remember things heâd tried to forgetâŚi will miss you something awful ifân Texas takes you from here, and from me.
NARRATOR:
The ride back to Christiansburg wasânt too far,
But the gap between childhood and adulthood felt like it was closing fast.
Wade Morrison had shared the broken heart of his townâ
in the woods, on the porches, amongst the silence.
And beside him, Mary Ann Pepper kept her hands folded in her lap,
her eyes fixed on the futureâŚ
even as she sensed Wade might not be in it.
SCENE 3 â âPacking the Last Crateâ
Narration
The war had left more than empty chairs at supperâit left a kind of stillness in Christiansburg. A quiet unraveling. Farms that once thrived now fought against worn-out soil and worn-down men. The courthouse still stood, and the train still came whistling through, but something had shifted. Families like the Morrisonsâthose who had lost a father, a home, or just a sense of what came nextâbegan to feel the pull of âelsewhereââŚany elsewhere.
Out west, the land was WIDE, the air was dry, and the future wasnât haunted by yesterdayâs sorrows. For many, including Wadeâs mother Caroline, it wasnât just ambitionâit was survival. A chance to begin again, far from the smoke and sadness of a town that had buried too much in too few years. Perhaps it was the lure of new opportunity, or the chance to build without waiting for someone to retire or make room in a town too small for big dreams. We may not know the exact reasons he decided to leave Christiansburg, but one thing is certain: for Wade Morrison, the move was a turning point. A game changer. A life pivot. The boy with the broomâŚbecame a man with a visionâand that vision would begin to take shape a thousand miles from the only home his boyhood had known.
WADE: I still cant believe we are making the move.
CAROLINE: this town is shrinking Wade, and your opportunities with it. Nothings been the same since the war. Things need a reset. Texas is ours.
WADE: Yes mama. I am sad to be leaving Minnie and the Dr.
CAROLINE: you two have been inseparable ever since you took that job.
WADE: yeahâŚI got aspirations to be a world famous druggist.
CAROLINE: In the Wild West of Texas?
WADE: Mhm. Not sure how, or why. Just got an inkling.
JOHN NEWTON LYLE : Wadeâstrap that one tight. If the corner lifts in Memphis, the whole loadâll shift.
WADE :Yes, sir. Got it double-nailed.
CAROLINE : That trunkâs not going in the wagon, is it Mr John Lyle? Itâll jostle all my things to bits dear.
JOHN: No Caroline. It goes on the train to Lynchburg. From there we follow the freight west.
Should make Memphis in three daysâbarring breakdowns.
WADE : And after Memphis?
JOHN : Steamboat across the Mississippi. Then the Texas & Pacificâll take us partway. Last day or two we go by stagecoach. Dont fret Caroline Dear. Itâll get there.
WADE: Weâve come longer for less. This time weâve got tools, a name, and a trade.
JOHN : And land waiting for feet to settle it.
CAROLINE : Itâs a long way to start over.
WADE: Yes mama.
đ SCENE 4 â âThe Farewell at the Depotâ
Narrator:
Some years have passed since the war, and the ashes of Christiansburgâs train station have been rebuilt into a modest, yet functional depot. Morning light filters in through dusty windows as steam gently hisses from the engine. Trunks are loaded with belongings, and family members are gathered on board. The atmosphere is bittersweetâhope mingles with sorrow as the future pulls Wade towards his destiny, and away from everything heâs known.
WADE :
Hi Minnie. I didnât think youâd come.
MINNIE :
Hi Wade. I wasnât sure I would. But then I remembered something.
WADE:
Whatâs that?
MINNIE :
You saved me the last peppermint drop.
WADE :
I never imagined this day would come so soon.
MINNIE :
And yet, here we areâon the edge of forever and farewell.
MINNIE :
Promise me youâll remember this moment. Remember that you were loved here.
WADE :
I promise. My father is buried here. And you MinnieâŚ.I donât know whatâs waiting out there. Texas is just a word on a map right now.
MINNIE:
So was Appomattox once. So was surrender.
And now look.
DR. PEPPER :
Well Wade, employer aside, you have been like a son to me. I watched you grow. Iâve seen you overcome sorrow, learn from every fall, and stand tall despite the hard winds of life.
WADE :
Youâve been everything I needed. Youâve mentored my career. Iâll carry your words with me, always.
DR. PEPPER :
Remember this, lad: the world is wide and the roads are many, but never forget that your roots run deep in Christiansburg.
WADE :
I wonât forget, sir. I⌠thank you for everything.
DR. PEPPER :
Farewell, son. Go make your mark and bring hope wherever you wander.
WADE: Goodbye Sir.
WADE: Minnie, will you walk me to my coach?
MINNIE: Yes Wade.
WADE:
If I come back, it wonât be soon.
MINNIE :
I am not ready to believe that.
WADE :
I thought maybe, if things had been differentâŚ
MINNIE :
but they werenâtâŚthey were beautiful anyway.
MINNIE :
Go chase whatâs next, Wade Morrison.
WADE :
Goodbye Minnie.
MINNIE :
Bye Wade.
NARRATOR:
And so Wade Brockenbrough Morrison left Christiansburg, Virginiaâthe son of a broken past, stepping into an uncertain future, carrying with him the legacy of a father lost, a mentorâs wisdom, and the tender promise of a love that endures. In that fleeting moment on the depot platform, as the train pulled him away and the billowing coal smoke & steam of departure settled, every goodbye whispered a hope that no distance could erase.
By the spring of 1880, Wade Morrison was no longer the boy sweeping floors in Christiansburg. He had traveled west with gumption and grit. He was a man with purpose. He was a druggist. He was a Texan.
He met and courted a Miss Carrie Bell Jeffries, from Missouri way. They married in Williamson County Texas on April 27th 1880, she 18âŚand he 27.
On June 1st, the census found them livingâor perhaps simply visitingâwith his mother, Caroline, his stepfather and Texas attorney, John Newton Lyle.
Everyone was making a new name for themselves. Wade was already listed with the title âDruggist.â A trade, yesâbut also a vision. He wasnât content to work behind someone elseâs counter.
SCENE 5 - 1880 Census
NARRATOR: Not but 10 days later, on the afternoon of Friday, June 11th, 1880, a U.S. census taker 1400 miles away visited the Pepper home in Christiansburg.
JL Wade: good afternoon sir. Names John Wade. I am the U.S. census taker this time around.
DR PEPPER: Oh I remember you. Nice to see you again. Come on into the parlor Mr Wade.
Have a seat John.
JOHN L Wade: thank you sir
DR PEPPER: Now what kind of information do you need?
JOHN L Wade: Let me get your full name.
DR PEPPER: William Reed Pepper. R-E-E-D
JOHN L WADE: âŚand your occupation is Physician
PEPPER: wellâŚno.
PEPPER: I am 61 and mostly retired from that work. I just plant the fields, harvest the crops, care for the animals, and run the acreage outside of town. Whatever that would be.
JOHN: ok, lemme write something more fitting then.
MRS ANN PEPPER: Well hi John. Good afternoon.
JOHN: Mrs Pepper, Maâam.
ANN: Oh stopâŚsit JohnâŚjust call me Ann in my house.
JOHN: As you wish Ann. Iâm gathering the census info this time around. Who else do you want listed in your household.
ANN: Thereâs our son JohnâŚheâs 19, our daughter Mary Ann, just turned 25, single, and living at home. She graduated from Montgomery Female Academy and is currently searching for a suitable teaching position.
Now hold on John Wade, arenât you the nephew of Caroline Morrison?
JOHN: I am.
ANN : MINNIE? Mary Ann? Will you come here for a moment please.
MINNIE: Yes mother.
ANN: Minnie, this is John, heâs taking the census. And he just happens to be related to Caroline and Wade.
JOHN: Yes maâam. Wade Morrison and I are first cousins.
MINNIE: Wade Morrison? I havenât heard that name inâŚ.well how is he? And Where?
JOHN: Gosh letâs seeâŚan area in Williamson County, Texas, known as Old Round Rock. About 80 miles south of WacoâŚat least from what I heard last.
MINNIE: is he married?
JOHN: as a matter of fact he isâŚJust a couple months ago in April. To a gal from Missouri i think.
MINNIE: Ooooh.
DR PEPPER: whatâs he doing there in Texas?
JOHN: Heâs a druggist, just like you trained him to be.
DR. PEPPER: well thats good to hear.
JOHN: yes sir, and a fairly determined one from what I can gather. Probably have his own place soonâŚ.well if thats everyone, i will be on my way. Got a few more houses to visit before I lose daylight.
ANN: Thank you John, say hello to your folks for me.
Farmer Pepper: Goodbye Mr Wade.
Narration:
Minnie mostly sat with her memories during the brief visit. As John left she followed his departing figure from the doorway, as if a name alone had stirred something long resting in her soul.
That muggy afternoon, on a quiet hill in Christiansburg, Virginia a family made an old connection through a common friend. And a young woman, still at home, heard the name of a boy she would always love.
đ SCENE 6 â âThe Name on the Bottleâ
NARRATOR:
Christiansburg had shaped him. Texas would define him.
As the old ties gently loosened back east, Wade Morrison threw his energy into the bustling frontier town of Wacoâa place where new ideas had room to breathe, and a man with purpose could make his mark.
In 1880, Texas was more than a destinationâit was a promise. A land unto itself.
Or as J Frank Dobie would say âTexas is neither southern nor western. Texas is Texas.â
To some, it was the land of wide horizons.
To others, it was the land of longhorns and lawlessness.
To land speculators, it was billed as the land of milk and honey.
But for Wade Morrison, it was something else entirely:
A blank pageâŚand a bottle waiting to be filled.
With every tincture he labeled, every remedy he mixed, Wade was laying the foundation for something larger than himself. By 1882, he owned the Old Corner Drug Store in Waco, Texasâa crossroads of community and curiosity.
Now, itâs worth remembering that in the 1880s, flavored seltzer waters werenât just for refreshment. They were born from medicine.
Carbonated water was believed to soothe the stomach and mimic the healing powers of natural mineral springs. And pharmacistsâlike Wadeâwere the ones who served them.
To make bitter tonics more tolerable, druggists began mixing in flavored syrupsâcherry, sarsaparilla, peach, vanilla, lemon. The result? Drinks that not only cured, but comforted.
Before long, the soda fountain became more than a health counter. It was a gathering place. A hub of flavor and fellowship, especially in towns baking under the Texas sun.
And for curious minds like Wade Morrison and his young employee, Charles Alderton, the pharmacy became a kind of laboratoryâwhere every pour was a possibility.
And in 1885, one particular pour would become something entirely new.
WADE: Whatâs all the commotion Charles? Looks like all your friends from Fort Worth are here in Waco?
ALDERTON :
Either that or all of BrooklynâŚ.I think weâve got a winner, Mr. Morrison. Thats gotta be a dozen requests just this afternoon.
Them 23 flavors taste like something from the future.
WADE :
Itâs a distinctive pick me up for sure. Quite the blend of fruits and spices youâve created Mr Alderton.
ALDERTON:
We need a better name. Canât keep calling it "Waco" if we want it to be more than locally famous.
WADE :
Then weâll call it Dr Pepper.
ALDERTON :
Dr... Pepper? You sure? Sounds catchy.
WADE :
Yeah. Iâm sure.
He gave me my first job.
And was there for me after my father died.
Lotsa life lessons outta that little Virginia drugstore.
ALDERTON: Ok. Youâre the boss. Dr Pepper it is.
CUSTOMER lady: Oh! I like that a lot. What do you call it?
WADE : We call it Dr Pepper.
CUSTOMER lady: Thats the 13th amendment for my taste buds. Whatâll they think of nextâŚsliced bread?
CUSTOMER man : Oh my. Tastes like cherry⌠no, plum⌠waitâspice cake in a glass! Whatever it is, Iâll be back tomorrow for another.
WADE: the next round of Dr Pepper is on the house.
NARRATOR:
Some men name things to make money.
Some to make history.
But Wade Morrison named this drink for something deeper â
for gratitude.
For memory.
For the quiet man in Christiansburg who once saved the last peppermint drop for him, and helped raise a boy who would one day bottle 23 delightful flavors, and serve it cold.
Not Waco Tonic.
But Dr Pepper.
And that⌠is how legacies taste.
What became of Minnie Pepper?
And what in tarnation did cousin John Wade write on the census form in behalf of Dr William Reed Pepper?
First MinnieâŚAfter Wade Morrison left Christiansburg, Minnie stayed.
She stayed when others went west. She stayed as the nation healed and rebuilt.
She stayed when the train came and left again.
And she stayed when the wounds of war faded into the habits of peace.
In 1876, Minnie graduated from the Montgomery Female Academy, one of the best schools in the region, known for raising refined, capable women in a place still stitching itself back together.
She never married.
Instead, she became a schoolteacher.
The kind of teacher who taught more than letters and arithmetic.
She taught steadiness. She taught kindness. She taught children how to carry sadness without letting it crush them.
For decades, she passed between desks and chalkboards, while seasons passed outside her window: crops growing, church bells ringing, and railcars rumbling through town.
She never spoke much of Wade Morrison. Not in public.
But once, a student remembered, she paused in a lesson about Texas,
touched the edge of the map, and smiled. Seemingly tasting a sweet memory.
They say she kept her fatherâs old ledger, and inside it, a brittle slip of candy paper.
Whether thatâs true or just the kind of story small towns tell, no one can say for sure.
Known by her friends as Minnie, Mary Ann Pepper, died on a Friday morning, April 22, 1937, at the age of 78, in the same house where she had once waited by the window, for a boy whoâd captured her heart.
The illness was brief. The goodbye, quiet.
Her funeral was held at Richardsonâs, and the service conducted by Dr. Robert Kinnaird of the Presbyterian Church.
She was buried in Sunset Cemetery, not far from the old train depot.
She was survived by her brother, Colonel J. W. Pepper, a man of commerce and reputation.
But those who really knew her remembered her not for the family name,
but for her stillness, her fierce heart, and the way her life held the echo of a boy who once saved her the last peppermint drop.
He left with no fortune, no thunder, no fame,
Just a bottle of memories, and one borrowed name.
No empire in mind, no riches to severâ
Just a boy who remembered what kindness feels like forever.
He learned to mix sorrow with syrup and glass,
To measure life slowly, let bitterness pass.
That not all that heals has a label or cure,
And some hearts, like tonic, are best kept pure.
The past is a window, not always clearâ
Itâs sometimes a face that you once held so dear
It returns in a moment, a flavor, a glow,
A peppermint memory from long long ago.
Wade gave us a drinkâbut left us a favor:
A lesson in tribute, a softhearted savior.
Not doctor, not prophet, not soldier nor herderâŚ
Just the man he named it for:
Doctor Pepper.
His mentor was steady, his wisdom ran deep,
With hands that could heal and a soul that could weep.
A man of great service, whose name now we treasureâ
But titles, heâd say, were no true measure.
So when asked one last time how heâd like to be known,
He chose not the crown, nor the medical throne.
He smiled at the pencil, and spoke with calm grace:
âJust write what I am⌠I tend to this place.â
No doctor, no title, no grand-standing leverâ
Just Farmer Pepper.
