The Cunninghams: A Legacy of Memphis

 

The very moment Hughes and Glass disappeared around the next bend in the road, with their wagonload of dead outlaws headed to a final reckoning in Memphis, everything seemed to change. The pall over them seemed to lift a bit.

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Angie knew in her heart that nothing actually had changed. She still had yet to come completely to grips with the specter of being a widow with two small boys to take care of alone. Angie had the challenge of making some kind of a life in Memphis.

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Benoit was some help here. He spoke of Mr. Gold’s assurance that Angie would be welcomed back as an employee of the store, if she wished, and that he had secured a house for Angie, little Bobby, and Oskar. Pasquinel had also opined that the house could serve as convalescent quarters for Val for as long as he needed to be under Angie’s care.

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“Levi Gold really cherished you, you know,” Benoit said softly. “It wasn’t just because of what you did for the store, though he said that was aplenty. I guess he sorta thought of you as a daughter he never had. When you left with such little warning, it affected him more than he would have thought.

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“He also had a great respect for Robert Cunningham. Frontier garb or not, he said that your man was one of the most astute natural businessmen he’d ever run into, and Bobby’s advice about stocking tools, work clothing, and supplies for settlers passing through was so on the spot that Mr. Gold ended up opening a new settlers’ branch of the store a few years back.  It’s been going great guns ever since.” Breezes softly rustled the trees’ leaves with a gentle chorus as he went on.

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“He was also so sorry that you lost Robert at the Alamo, and he grieved so for you; he really did. He tore his clothes and everything!”  Angie nodded slowly.

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“When Val said he was going to see if you wanted to come back, rather than being stuck there on the frontier as a widow with two kids, Levi Gold was the first to say go.

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“And while I’m at it, I might as well say a word about that man you have back there in the wagon. Valentine Dimand is one of the finest men I’ve ever known, and if you’re sort of inclined toward him, you could do a great deal worse, believe you me. I know the wounds in your heart from Robert’s passing have to be too fresh to make many decisions about your future right now, but that man really has something for you. When he determined to come and get you, nothing, and I mean nothing, could stand in his way!

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“By the way, the treatment you’re giving Val is terrific. I’m not talking about keeping his wounds clean and such, though you’re doing great with those things. The way you’re staying close to him, holding him and kissing him, there’s just no better medicine.

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“Would you listen to me go on? I haven’t talked this much since I tried to out-argue Davy Crockett and George Russel! My jaws hurt.” With that, Pasquinel Benoit fell silent.

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After a short while, Angie crawled back to Val and began her treatment of him again. She had much to think about.

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That night, things changed.

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                                                        The Cunninghams II: The Heat of Memphis

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The guy could have been a model for a police-recruiting poster. Tall, hearty, and looking every bit like the seasoned officer he actually was, “Dix” Cunningham did not seem like the typical raw recruit. He looked like he’d been a cop for years. He actually had been. He’d also been a combat veteran in Korea; he was experienced.

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As he stepped forward and raised his right hand, the large and dashingly handsome new police recruit had a quick thought:

 

Getting sworn in feels like I’m getting married all over again. I guess it kind of is like that. My hand’s in the air and I’m saying, “I do.” My new precinct commander, Captain Hall, has on his dress uniform, and we’re standing in front of guests. Margie is smiling at me like she doesn’t know the MPD is going to be the other woman, but she loves me anyway. It all seems slightly surreal.

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He was Robert Dixon Cunningham—“Bobby” as a boy and now known as "Dix". At this time, he was a newly hired detective for the Memphis Police Department. He had been married to his stunning bride, Margie, for about eight years.

 

His story, and his circuitous journey to come to this point had started more than forty years earlier on the mean streets of Depression-era Memphis.

 

You could have written a novel about it.

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                                                                     HOP: Tracker on the Trail of Life

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When Palmer got there, he found there were at least a couple of hundred applicants for the fifty jobs available. He waited in the interminable line, and watched man after dejected man slump away. He did wonder about the advisability of remaining. Many men chose not to stay.

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Finally, it was Palmer’s turn at the desk. The hiring boss looked at him after he signed the application list. Ira Shields was the hiring boss’s name, according to the placard.

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“Palmer, huh? Unusual name.”

“Yessir. My Dad done named me after a Civil War general he admired.”

“Where’re you from, Palmer?”

“Our farm is ‘bout four miles t’other side of Ripley.”

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“Well son, as you can see, we got a lot more than the fifty men we needed.”

“Couldn’t you use just one more sir? All the work I’ve ever done was on the farm. I can log, lift, pull, run a mule, or any kind of work like it. I can also fix most machinery when it breaks. Please, my family sure needs the money.”

“I’ve heard the same story over and over today. I really do understand. There’s nothing I can do, but I’ll keep your name. If anything opens up I’ll let you know. Now, you better get your car and head on back home.”

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“I don’t have a car.”

“So, someone brought you here? Let them know.”

“I can’t sir. I walked.”

“Good Lord, son! You walked twenty-five miles to get this job?”

“Yes sir.”

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“Well, Jumpin’ Jehosophat!” He yelled out, “Hey Fred, come over here for a minute!”

A tough-looking man, probably in his forties, came over. “Yes Boss?”

“Fred, we’ve got a young man here who walked twenty-five miles to get a job today, and I’d hate to send him back home without one. Got anything?”

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“We could always use another man in the water, boss.”

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“You afraid to go in the river, Palmer?”

“No sir. I done already been in it once today.” He pointed to his muddy clothes.

“Well young man, all I can promise is work today. We’ll see about tomorrow.”

“Thanks very much, Mr. Shields. I ain’t gonna’ let you down.”

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“I have the feeling you won’t. Pay is three dollars a day, starting today. Now go with Fred here, Palmer. He’ll show you what to do.”

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The first day was memorable, indeed. He didn’t know if he’d be back for a second day.

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