Dan Smith
Dan Smith rose from his chair and walked behind the house.
John W. Johnson was a store-owner and mechanic near the Fairton community in Mackenson County, Texas. His businesses were within walking distance of the Silver Creek River bridge. By all accounts he and his wife (his second wife, the first having passed away; both had actually been a widower and a widow, respectively) had a good life. He ran a mechanic’s business, and she ran a general store. The store sold everything from blocks of ice to lunch meat that was custom sliced, all the way to notebook paper. At that time they were the only store in that part of the county, though now both the store and the auto shop are gone. The shop was there for many years after the couple had passed away, though it was just an empty building. Someone else ran the store for a little while, but now you can’t even tell that a fair-sized market once sat at that location. It’s just a grassy meadow.
John and his wife, who was always called Mrs. Billie, were well known in the county. They weren’t really social people or church going types, but almost everyone was familiar with them because everyone went to the store at one time or another. They were friends to just about everyone, and they didn’t mind letting people have a charge account at the store or even the mechanic’s shop. The only negative thing that could be said about them was stated by their family. Apparently, they were so busy with the shop and the store and being fixtures of the community that they didn’t make time for their own kin. Such is life, one family member would later say.
The Johnson family had, in addition to their businesses, cattle. They had cows and four 300 pound hogs in a pig pen behind their small house. The hogs were enormous and said to be little more than big pets, but also potentially dangerous. Anyone who saw them came away impressed. The Johnsons never slaughtered any of their cows or hogs because they kept them around solely for tax purposes.
One Thursday evening John and Billie closed their stores at 5:30 PM, the usual closing time, and headed home, which was located in the midst of several huge magnolia trees about 100 yards behind the store. Later on that evening they were eating dinner and conversing about the day. John remembers the meal in great detail. They had “leftover chicken and dumplings, fried chicken, pinto beans, cornbread, fried potatoes, and sliced tomatoes.” It was a typical and very common East Texas meal.
While John and Billie were eating their dinner, John mentioned to his wife that he had no work scheduled for the next day, so he was going to head into Silver City to pick up some supplies for the store and for his auto shop. The next morning, before daylight, he prepared to set off to accomplish his errands. He had been up the night before making a list of items that he needed to purchase, and Mrs. Billie had added liberally to that list. He would be picking up goods for the store, the shop, and the household.
Johnson got his team ready and headed off in his wagon on what was already a very warm and pleasant day. The family owned an automobile, a 1940 model pickup truck, but Mr. Johnson was picking up so many supplies that he thought he’d better take the wagon. He was also going to pick up a load of railroad ties, which practically necessitated the use of the wagon. The vehicle was left at home, and Johnson later stated that he preferred using the wagon anyway. The railroad ties, according to Johnson, were to be used as fence posts.
Mr. Johnson set out toward Silver City on what would usually be a round trip of six hours. It took about three hours to drive a wagon to town, but today it was going to take longer because it had been raining over the past few days and the road was quite muddy. More than once Mr. Johnson encountered patches of the roadway that caused him to fear getting stuck. Nevertheless, he was careful and he managed to make it to a section of very solid gravel road.
The highway upon which Johnson drove passed by several houses, about 10 according to Johnson himself, and around one to two hours into the journey, Mr. Johnson admits that he stopped by the home of Mr. Zeke Hill and that he bought a quart of “cat whiskey” or moonshine from one of the younger Hills, Zeke himself being in the fields (or perhaps at the still). He paid nine dollars for the quart, which included a discount because the elder Hill liked Mr. Johnson—and he really liked his charge account at the store. Johnson then talked about farming and the store business for about half an hour, and finally went on his way. He specifies that he did not drink any of the alcohol until days later.
When Mr. Johnson began to get very close to Silver City, he passed by the home of Mr. Dan Smith. He and Mr. Smith were friends. They weren’t close friends, but they were friends. They were “know you when I see you” types of individuals, and if they ran into one another somewhere they would always talk. They didn’t talk on this particular day.
Mr. Smith, like Mr. Johnson, was elderly. He was a retired farmer and a widower. His son and daughter-in-law lived next door to him and farmed a plot of land as well as some of Mr. Smith’s own land that had almost lain fallow. Mr. Smith’s “hobby,” such as it was, was sitting in his rocking chair on his front porch, and that was what he happened to be doing when Mr. Johnson drove by in his wagon. As usual, Mr. Johnson waved to the other gentleman. Mr. Smith waved back, and then he rose, picked up his cane, and walked around behind his house and out of view.
In Silver City, Mr. Johnson purchased five gallons of diesel fuel, a bushel of corn, a bushel of potatoes, and various smaller amounts of vegetables as well as flour, sugar, and corn meal. He then went to the lumberyard to pick up his railroad ties. When he arrived the business was closed for lunch, so he had an hour to wait before he could get his wagon loaded. He decided to walk over to the Silver City Tavern (this business still exists today) where he enjoyed a meal of steak, a baked potato, and iced tea. He chatted with some of the patrons who were known to him and the hour seemed to pass quickly. He got up, paid his bill, and took a walk through the town. He then headed back to the lumberyard.
The employees had returned to their work by the time Mr. Johnson got back to the yard. He spent some time browsing the tools and various other items that he wanted but did not need before he finally went to the yard manager and asked for 12 railroad ties. The clerk promised to get the wagon loaded as soon as possible, saying that there were a few others ahead of Johnson who had also been waiting for quite some time. Mr. Johnson had no problem with this; it wouldn’t cause him to fall behind or be out after dark, and he was quite enjoying his time in town.
Mr. Johnson continued to browse the goods at the lumberyard and finally decided that he needed to buy some more fencing nails and four panels of hog wire. He placed that order and then parked himself on a bench inside the business, talking to whomever came along and decided to talk. An hour later or so, his wagon was loaded. He rose from his seat and paid for the items that he had come for, as well as for the items he didn’t come for.
When he was paying his bill the store manager, Andrew Trent, came to the counter. He extended his hand for a handshake, and Mr. Johnson shook his hand. The man had an odd look on his face. It was a look of concern, or perhaps sadness. Mr. Johnson couldn’t tell.
“I was sorry to hear about our mutual friend,” said Andrew Trent. “He was a good man. He was a good customer when he was still active. I guess I’ll shut the lumberyard down so everyone can go to the funeral. Will you and Mrs. Billie be shutting down too?”
Mr. John Johnson was confused. He had no idea about what Andrew Trent was speaking. He inquired as to the man’s meaning. Trent replied, “I’m so sorry, I didn’t realize that you didn’t already know. I’m talking about Mr. Dan Smith. He died two days ago.”
John W. Johnson drove home that evening with troubled thoughts and he didn’t dare to look when he passed by the Smith place. He remembered the experience for the rest of his life, and he was always nervous along that stretch of the road. Fortunately, according to Mr. Johnson, he never saw Dan Smith again.
The End.
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