Another of the special things about visiting Mamaw and Papaw, was how Papaw could tell stories. He would lean his head back against the rocking chair and close his eyes - like he could actually see and hear the long-ago conversations. Sometimes his voice would get quiet, and emotion would swell in and around him until you were actually there, feeling the victories or aching with loss.
Mamaw replaced the chimney of the kerosene lamp she'd just lit, and came to sit beside Mom on the couch. "Okay, Papaw, we're ready." We usually turned out the lights and used candlelight, though I wasn't sure why. Anyway, it was tradition, and certainly seemed to add to the affect.
"Alright," his voice was a little hoarse, "We're all ready?"
Of course we were.
So he began my very favorite story of all.
Quantrill's Raiders
Once upon a time, there was a great evangelist in the land. God was using him in a mighty way, and thousands came to Christ during his meetings. He preached all over the country. One night, after a great meeting, when the spirit of the Lord had caused a great revival among the people, the evangelist felt very burdened; like there was still something God wanted him to do. But he had just preached to thousands of people and done all he knew to help them - what else could be done?
Wondering, he stepped into the woods and began a long walk. All the way, he prayed, asking the Lord to show him what He wanted him to do. After he'd gone a little way, he began to hear a strange sound. Someone was crying. He walked on, following the trail to a graveyard.
Seated on a great big tombstone, a man was weeping. His hands were over his face and anyone could see he was hurting inside.
The evangelist made his way over to the tomb. Getting closer, he noticed that someone must have paid a whole lot for it. It was beautiful, and had flowers growing around the edges.
"Excuse me, sir, " he said gently, "I'm a minister of the gospel. I was taking a walk and, well, it's easy to see you're in trouble; can I help you at all?"
The man looked up. "Oh," he groaned, "I don't think anyone can help me...There's no hope."
"Well, sir," replied the minister, "I've seen some awfully bad cases, and I've noticed that, with Jesus, there's always hope. What's happened?"
The man took a shaky breath, and let it out real slow. He was quiet for a long time, then began softly. "Well, a while back, during the Civil War, me and my friend Willie got mixed up with some bad company. We joined a group called "Quantrill's Raiders" - but murderers and thieves were all we really were. Sometimes we would destroy entire towns in one night, raiding homes, stores, barns - anything and everything we could get our hands on."
The man squeezed his eyes shut until wrinkles formed, like he was trying not to see all the memories of inflicted pain and suffering.
"We killed anyone who got in our way - men, women, and even little children. Some of the men hated what we had to do, but Quantrill was an expert marksman...cold-hearted, too; he would never hesitate to kill anyone who dared to leave his band.
One night, the whole gang rode into another town to drink and carouse until morning. I stayed behind to guard Camp until they came back. While I waited there, it got dark and, in the black of night, a voice called my name from the woods. Of course, I was terrified.
"Who's there."
"It's me, Willie."
The fear washed out of me, but I felt weak from the scare.
"What on earth are you doin' back here in the middle of the night?" I kicked out a spark that blew near my foot.
He squatted down next to me, a dark shadow.
"I need to tell you something," - and did he ever. That night, while he was walking through town, he had seen a big church service going on and, though he didn't know why, he had stopped to listen. Before long, God touched his heart, and at the end of the service, he went to the altar and gave his heart to the Lord. Now he had a problem, though: God said not to steal, and that killing was wrong. There was no way he could stay with Quantrill's Raiders and please God at the same time - He had to leave before the band came back.
"And," he finished "I want you to come, too."
The idea was madness. I knew we would both be caught and executed without mercy. He tried to persuade me, but I would have none of it. Finally, he said goodbye and slipped back into the dark night.
I lay awake for a long time, wondering if he would make it; marveling at the sudden change in him. I fell asleep with no answers.
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