Chapter 2
I Tain’t Right, Yet!
Pastor Big Jim Turner stood a head and shoulders above most men. But it weren’t his size that earned him the town’s respect. There was a time, back when he was a younger man, that Big Jim didn’t just go lookin’ for trouble.
He was the trouble.
He ran off and on with the Sosbee boys and they weren’t known for doing good. He could cheat a deck of cards so slick folks always suspected him, but nobody ever caught him at it. He brewed moonshine finer than most, and that’s sayin’ somethin’ in these mountains. Rumor had it he knew where the gold was hid, but never did file himself a claim.
Back mid-1860s, Big Jim Turner took a likin’ to one of sweet Miss Betsy’s girls. Folks old enough to remember swore Miss Abigail Sosbee was every bit the beauty her mama had been at that age.
Big Jim made up his mind he was gonna hitch himself to that pretty little filly.
Half the county was standin’ there the day he announced it.
“Miss Abigail Sosbee,” he called loud enough for everybody to hear, “I’ve got my sights set on you, and I’d like to know if you’d be agreeable to me comin’ a-courtin’.”
He asked her right there on the church grounds. In front of all those good Christian folks.
Mind you, he hadn’t spent a minute inside that church that mornin’—nor any mornin’ before it. He’d ridden in from the south and just happened to be passin’ by.
Abigail looked him up and down.
“You’re Big Jim?” She had heard tell of him through her brothers. ‘Twas his size that fixed it in her mind.
A grin spread across his face.
But as she kept talkin’, that grin thinned into a hard, straight line.
“I reckon it’d be my Pa you oughta speak to about such things. Maybe next Saturday night over a poker game… while you’re stealin’ next week’s wages off him.”
You could’ve heard a pine needle hit the ground.
“Folks say you ain’t no good, Mr. Turner. They say everything you do’s for yourself. They say there ain’t the first fleck of Christian in you. My Pa loves my Ma, and he puts great store by what she says is right.”
She stepped right up to him till they was near nose to nose and poked one finger square into that broad chest of his.
“And you, Big Jim… tain’t right.”
He looked down into her eyes, payin’ no mind to all the church folks starin’ at the pair of ’em.
“We’ll just see about that.”
He turned on his heel, stomped up the church steps, and hollered loud enough to drown out the church bell.
“I’m no bigger sinner than the next fella! And Jesus ain’t too small to save a man like me!”
He flung that church door wide enough to near pull it off its hinges, marched straight down the aisle, and dropped himself onto the very first pew.
The door swung back open, invitin’ the rest of God’s people to come on in.
Old Pastor Hinton was the last one through.
Truth be told, everybody else had near run inside. Nobody aimed to miss what happened next.
It was the shortest sermon that old preacher ever preached.
Couldn’t have been more’n six or seven sentences before he called for the invitation hymn.
Big Jim took one giant step into the aisle, walked straight to the altar, and dropped to his knees.
Now, folks had their doubts.
But the town put a mighty heap of trust in Pastor Hinton.
He’d never once presented somebody to the congregation that he didn’t believe, deep in his own heart, had truly turned toward the Lord.
Dinner on the ground come mighty close to breakfast that day, seein’ as how the service ended so quick.
When everybody’d had their fill, Pastor Hinton stepped out onto the church porch.
“I’d like y’all to welcome the newest member of our church family.”
Folks smiled polite and nodded.
Then the old preacher said somethin’ that near knocked the breath clean outta the crowd.
“Bow your heads. Brother Jim Turner leaves for theology school first thing in the mornin’. He’ll be gone six months. Let’s pray the Lord finishes the work He started today.”
After the prayer, Big Jim walked straight over to Miss Betsy.
“If you’d think kindly of me, ma’am, I’d like permission to court your Miss Abigail proper when I return.”
Mrs. Betsy studied him for a long spell before she answered. She’d likely heard stories of him from her husband and sons. But, her roots had faith. If she was going to trust the good lord to save her and hers…
“We’ll see how the Good Lord moves, Jim.”
Big Jim nodded.
“‘Twas a fair poker game last night, Mrs. Betsy. If it hadn’t been, I’d give every penny back. But it was.”
Mrs. Betsy gave the smallest little nod.
Big Jim turned toward Abigail.
“Miss Abigail.”
He tipped his hat.
“I’ll be askin’ that question again real soon.”
She didn’t say a word.
Just stood there with her mouth shut, watchin’ him swing into the saddle and ride away.
Now, whether the Lord changed Big Jim in a single mornin’ or spent the next six months finishin’ the job…
Well…
That depends on who’s tellin’ the story.