Monday, November 21, 2011

A Knock at the Door

This is a story I share from our history as told to me by my Uncle Bob Johnson. I came across it when putting together my book Neff Road and wanted to share it. This story was told to my uncle when he was a child by my great grandmother, Parolee Johnson. I relate it in my uncle's words.

Grandmother "Pal" was all a grandmother could be. Always happy and telling me things I liked to hear along with a piece of butter bread or a cookie. One of her stories I remember well. She and her husband Jim moved into a little two room log cabin, a kitchen and bedroom, about 200 feet north of Painter Creek. She had finished her morning work and heard horses outside. She looked out the door and there were two grown men, tying their horses to the hitching rack. They walked up and knocked on the door. She answered and was told that they had been riding all night and could she give them a bite to eat.

She fixed breakfast for them and invited them in. They ate very hearty and when finished expressed their thanks for the good food. On their way out, she asked them where they were going and the one said that they had been to Kentucky to see relatives and was on their way back to Missouri. As a last word, one turned back and said," I am Jesse James and this is my brother Frank."

My grandmother remembered the names and it was long after that she found out that they were the most notorious bank robber in America.......As related by Bob Johnson (90 years old)

Rich is the history of Neff Road. A place that began with dirt roads and paths and men on horses.

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