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I walked home with fear and excitement in my heart. The letter seemed to burn a hole through my pocket. Oh how I wished I could tear it open right now and read what my little brother had to say. It had been almost seven years since his fourteenth birthday—the day he left—and this was the first letter we had received from him since.
For the first time in years, I felt like running all the way home. But even an old maid like me wasn’t supposed to run lest I be labeled a “batty old maid”. I rolled my eyes at the thought. Of course, I was already considered batty since I didn’t go to church and I barely socialized with folks.
“What is wrong with being batty anyway?” I mumbled to myself. Out loud. Good gracious! It was a good thing no one else used this road. The number of times I could have been caught talking to myself would be rather embarrassing.
Taking a quick look around, I saw I was near the fields where Da and Caleb were working. I picked up my pace. “Caleb! Da! We have a letter from Jed!” I waved the letter at them. Caleb looked up from his work with a grin a mile wide. He was like that—almost always happy-go-lucky no matter what happened. I wished I could be that way. Da glanced toward me before getting back to his work. He wasn’t one to show much emotion, especially when it came to Jed.
I strode to the house in a rather unladylike fashion—who would see it anyway, much less care? I put away my purchases and had started to look around the living room to figure out what to do next when Caleb and Da clomped into the kitchen. I smiled with satisfaction. Caleb had convinced Da to come in and get the letter reading over with. Good!
As I took the letter out of my apron pocket, I walked through the doorway into the kitchen. Caleb looked at me with anticipation written all over his face. He fiddled with his hands—clenching and unclenching, gripping and ungripping them—like he always did when nervous about something. Da kept his eyes glued to the wall, trying to pretend he didn’t care what Jed had to say. I knew better. He did care in his own way, if for no other reason than because he was curious about what Jed had been doing the last seven years.
Caleb was the first to speak. “What’s it say, Anna?”
I looked to Da for permission to read. He gave a curt nod and I tore the envelope open. It held two different letters. One was written by a man I did not know and I chose to set it aside in favor of Jed’s letter. Jed’s familiar handwriting beckoned to me from the paper. His handwriting was still the same as when he was a child, scrawling all over the page. The paper had an almost Jed-like smell to it. I swallowed hard before my emotions got the better of me.
The letter was lengthy by his standards. Even as a boy, he had never been wordy about anything.
The paper crinkled as I unfolded it with care. I took a shaky breath before beginning to read.
Dear Da, Caleb, and Anna,
It’s been awhile. I left afore I was barely old enough to take care of myself. The day I left is ferever imprinted in my memory. Its the day my life changed completely. At first it was for the better. I was away from Da’s fists and would never again have to worry about bein’ beaten by him. Then I joined up with a gang of outlaws.
For the first time, I felt I had become part of a family, one who saw me as more than just someone who existed because his mama died.
I’m ramblin’. I’m really not sure how to say all I wanna say. I have only a few more hours left to write and now that I get round to it, I find it harder than I thought it would be. First thing ya need to know is that in a few hours, I will be hanged for rustlin’ and horse thievin’. By the time this letter arrives, I’ll be dead. Don’t lose yourselves in grief for me. I deserve this punishment and worse. I have done lots I shouldn’t have.
The words were choked out by the lump that rose to my throat. As I attempted to regain my composure, I saw Da glaring at me. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. The lump subsided enough for me to continue reading.
What you need to know most is that because of three forgivin’ people who were bold enough to ignore my insults and surliness, I won’t be in a livin’ death for eternity. When I die, I know that I’ll go to heaven.
Before I get into that, I need to apologize. Da, if yer still alive, I’m sorry I beat you up. At the time, I thought it the best way to stop you from doin’ that to me. I thought it’d make me feel better and it did for a few hours. I wish there were a way to go back in time and change what I did. I should’ve found another way to stop you. If I had, there’d be a lot of people still alive who deserved life more than I did.
Caleb, when I left, I didn’t think of what it would do to you. I’m sorry if because of my leavin’, you got stuck with lots more work. You always tried to be there for me. Thank you.
Anna. Dear, sweet Anna. I thank God for Anna who was a rock in my life. She was the one I knew I could always count on. I know my leavin’ must’ve caused you plenty of worry and heartbreak. You always were, and will be, like a mother to me. I really hope yer married and have a passel of kids by now. You’d be a wonderful mother. I know you were to me. I’m sorry to have caused you any worry. And now I know you’ll be grievin’ for me, too. Do not let it overpower you like Da did with Mama. I’m in a better place.
I suppose it’s now time to get back to what I was talkin’ ‘bout before my apologies. I’m a Christian. I can’t believe how wonderful I feel now. It’s like the weight of a hunnert anvils came off my shoulders and I can finally walk free. Jesus truly does save. He is the only One who can.
As I write, my mind keeps goin’ back to the song you often sang to me, Anna. “Be Thou My Vision”. I don’t remember the Irish and wouldn’t be able to write it out anyhow, but I remember some of the words in English. “Be Thou my vision, O Lord of my heart; Naught be all else to me, save that Thou art, Thou my best thought, by day or by night, waking or sleeping, Thy presence my light.”
My voice broke at the remembrance of these words and my vision blurred as the tears came to my eyes. I took a few shaky breaths and refused to look at Da.
That is what I want for all three of you. May God truly be your Vision, your Light, your Life. God’s Word tells you how.
I was the worst of sinners. I murdered many, many times. I did despicable things to people to satisfy myself. I cussed like the best of ‘em. I hated you, Da. I hated that Caleb never tried to step in to stop you. I hated that all Anna could do was cry over my wounds and do her best to soothe and heal them. I was ungrateful and selfish. I deserved death.
God wanted somethin’ different. He wanted me to be a follower of Him. By the time I listened to Him it was too late for me tell others about Jesus Christ. If I could’ve done somethin’ different, it would’ve been to learn of Christ’s love sooner and share it with others. I know I won’t have much, if any, impact on people. But if I can do one thing before I die, it’ll be to tell you about Christ. I pray it helps some.
We went to church some as kids. I remember Caleb, Anna, and me walkin’ to church many times. I remember some of the things the preacher said. None of what I am going to say should be too new for you.
Here are the basics as Sheriff Brookings and Miss Harris told them to me. Because of Adam and Eve, we’re all sinners and always will be. Because of sin, we should all go to hell. Look at Romans 3:23 and 6:23. Then God did something incredible. He sent His Son to die for everybody’s sins. Miss Harris said that if there had been only one person on earth, Jesus would’ve died on the cross so He could save that one person from eternal life in hell.
Because of Jesus’ sacrifice, we now have a way to get to heaven. All we have to do is accept it. It’s free, but not easy. It requires surrenderin’ our lives to His will. Acceptin His gift means we become His servants. The good news is that He is a kind, loving, and forgiving Lord.
Da, Caleb, and Anna. Please think about this. I want to see all three of you again someday. In a few hours, that won’t be possible on this earth. I am prayin for you. If it is allowed, I will be prayin’ for you in heaven, too.
Your lovin’ son and brother,
Jed William Stuart
As I read his last salutation, “Your loving son and brother,” I broke down completely.
Caleb stepped forward and wrapped his arms around me in a gentle hug.
“Shh. It’s okay, Anna. He’s in a better place now.”
“But he’s gone. My baby brother is gone,” I sobbed.
Caleb held me at arm’s length. “He chose his path.”
My sobs slowed down as I took a few deep breaths. “I know. It’s just...I was practically his mother.” I put a hand to my chest. “It feels like a knife was thrust through my heart.” Two more tears trailed down my cheeks.
Caleb nodded. “I know. I always thought he’d live longer than I would because of all he went through as a kid. He was tougher’n all of us.”
I glanced over to where Da stood motionless against the kitchen table. “Da?”
His head rose slowly. “Jed’s gone. Fittin’ somehow that he’d a-been hung.” Da swallowed once and slapped his hat against his thigh. “After what he done ta me b’fore he left, he oughta been hung.” Da looked past me toward the door. “Well, Caleb, time’s a-wastin’. Let’s get back to work.” He walked out of the kitchen door.
Caleb and I stared after him. I knew my eyes must have looked as big as saucers. My jaw felt like it was about to fall to the floor. Caleb shrugged his shoulders and followed Da out the door.
As soon as Caleb left the house, I picked up the envelope from the table, realizing I had forgotten about the second letter. I unfolded it and looked at the signature. Joshua Brookings. Wasn’t the sheriff’s name Brookings? I looked at Jed’s letter again. Yes, I was right.
I started to read the short letter from Sheriff Brookings. One paragraph in, and I decided to wait until later this evening. Maybe I could get my emotionless lug of a brother to read it to me. From what I had seen, Sheriff Brookings wrote about the details of Jed’s death. With the state my emotions were in right now, I would never be able to read it on my own.
I spent the rest of my afternoon alternately cleaning and weeping, and sometimes both at the same time. I still couldn’t believe Jed had died. Every day of the past seven years, I had clung to the slight hope we would hear from him, but I had always known he was alive. At least, I had assumed he was. Now? Now, I knew without a doubt he was dead.
My emotions were all over the place. On one hand, I was ecstatic that we had finally heard from him. On the other...well, he was dead and we would never see him again. I paused at that thought. What had Jed said? That we could see him again in eternity? I walked with a reluctant, yet eager, gait back into the kitchen and took Jed’s letter off the table. I re-read the last part of his letter. Yes, I was right. He had said that we could see him again.
As I read his explanation a second time, my heart grew heavier and heavier which didn’t make sense to me. I’d considered getting saved once, but Da had forbidden it and that was that; I hadn’t thought of it again. So why now? Why after all these years of suppressing those thoughts would they have to come back again?
I didn’t think I would ever be able to do what Jed said I would need to do. Da would kick me out if I ever did something like that. Not to mention I would have to give complete control of my life over to someone whom I couldn’t see. I shook my head with conviction. No way. God obviously didn’t care much about me anyway.
Back when I was younger, I had always dreamed of getting married and having lots of kids. Yet here I was; an almost thirty year old spinster who had never had anyone remotely interested in courting her. If God had cared about me, wouldn’t He have given me a little hope of my dream coming true? If not that, couldn’t He have made Jed write me at least one other time while he’d been gone?
I took a deep breath and shook my head with unnecessary violence. I had to get my thoughts off of all this. I looked outside to see where the sun was hanging. Almost time to start supper. No sense in putting it off. I trudged through the yard to the cellar door, pulled it open, and clomped down the stairs. I filled the bucket with potatoes, carrots, and a jar of canned venison, topping the bucket off with a jar of apples.
Back inside, I cut up the vegetables and put them in a stew pot with the meat and some water and set the pot on the stove to simmer. Then I worked on the apple pie.
As I rolled out the crust, my mind wandered to the first time Jed had tried to help me make pie crust. He had been determined to help me as much as a four year old could. He took everything out that I needed and started dumping the ingredients together. Every time he had seen me make it, I had measured the ingredients with a pinch of this, a handful of that, and a spoonful of the other thing. I guess he decided he could do the same thing. The crust ended up a bit sweet, but otherwise, it was salvageable. I just made sure I didn’t add any sugar to the filling.
Tears threatened to pour out of my eyes again. “Stop it!” I scolded myself. “Just stop it!”
***
The pie had finished baking when boots stomped on the steps outside. After adding a piece of wood to the stove, I took a quick glance around the kitchen. The stew was hot, the biscuits were ready, the table was set, and the pie was on the back of the stove staying warm. The only things missing were my sanity and inane cheerfulness. I closed my eyes for a few seconds and took a shaky breath. I doubted I would ever regain that cheerfulness. It had all been a façade, anyway. Now I didn’t need to fake it.
Caleb and Da walked in as I reopened my eyes. Caleb’s grin told me two things. Number one, he hadn’t been as affected by Jed’s death as I had—either that or he hid it better than I did. And two, they had finished harvesting one of the fields. I made a weak attempt at a smile. “Supper’s ready.”
“Good! I’m starved.” Caleb walked around the table and collapsed into a chair.
I controlled the urge to roll my eyes at the typical response from Caleb and instead, dished up the stew. Once the three of us were seated, Caleb and Da dug into their stew and biscuits with abandon while I picked at my food. After they were finished, I served the pie. As I handed them each a plate, I mentioned the second letter.
“Caleb, would you read it? Please?” I pleaded. “I tried and couldn’t. From what I could tell it was from the sheriff and he told about how Jed died.” I may have been a spinster and almost thirty years old, but that did not mean I wasn’t susceptible to the normal womanly emotions. At least, I hoped they were normal.
“Sure. Where is it?” I envied Caleb’s emotional detachment. Was I the only one affected by Jed’s death? Or were they affected in a different way? I wish I knew, but none of us really talked about...well, anything really, but especially not our emotions.
I dug the letter out of my apron pocket and handed it to Caleb.
Dear Stuart Family,
It is with heavy heart I write to inform you of the death of your brother and son. Jed asked that I write you more details on the why and how of his death. He was an outlaw and had been for seven years. His crimes for the first five years would not have put him in jail because there was not enough proof of his involvement.
Two years ago, he robbed a stagecoach. In the ensuing shootout, the driver and shotgun guard were killed leaving the two passengers as the only survivors. The two survivors were me and my younger sister. By God’s grace, we escaped. Jed was the only member not killed or wounded and he came after us, but we were able to elude him. After he realized he would not find us, he went on a wild rampage. In his anger, he violated a young lady.
I gasped, unable to stop myself. Caleb glanced over at me and cleared his throat, then continued.
Throughout the next two years, he tried to find Ruth and me while he did odd jobs here and there. Sometimes he hired out as a gunman. For the last year, Jed had been rustling. His abilities as a gunman were not “needed” as often, and he needed money. In the end, that was how he got caught.
Jed and his two partners tried to rustle cattle off the wrong ranch and we were waiting for them. It was the rustling that got him hung.
Jed was in my jail for nearly two weeks. During that time, I did my best to convince him that God cared for him and would forgive him of all his sins. He wouldn’t listen to me. I telegraphed the young lady, knowing she had not pressed charges even though she did know his name. I prayed she was a Christian and would be willing to help convince Jed that God could indeed forgive him.
It took a couple of days, but God broke through his stubbornness using the young lady and me.
Jed accepted God’s gift freely. It was humbling to see the instant change in him. He went from a sullen, angry, bitter, resentful man to being humble, considerate, and ready to die for his crimes.
Two days after his acceptance of the gospel, Jed was hung. He died as he requested—to the sound of singing. He asked me, my sister, and Elizabeth to sing a particular song while he was hung. The song was one my family and I taught him the night before, “A Mighty Fortress is Our God”. It was hard to keep the tune going because of our sorrow at our new friend’s death. Even now as I write, the sorrow hinders my words. I’ve never seen any man more composed and sure of himself than Jed was that morning. I am proud to have called him my friend.
Enclosed you will find Jed’s death certificate. If you have any questions, please feel free to write. I would be happy to answer any questions you may have.
Sincerely,
Joshua Brookings
Sheriff of Cartersville, Montana
