Custody of the State by Craig Parshall Page B

create iridescent slashes of brilliant orange and red as the fireball of the sun would illuminate a few streaks of clouds like painted horse’s tails.
    Though Mary Sue still felt the lonely desperation of her plight, she was also convinced that she had witnessed the hand of Divine Providence—like a guide that was going on before her.
    When Mary Sue had accelerated away from their family farm in the truck that day, her mind had been racing. How could she and Joshua be safe as long as they remained in the state? Why not get out of Georgia—at least until she found out why two sheriff’s squad cars and the case worker from Social Services had descended on their home with no warning? That was when Mary Sue settled on a plan—she would get to the airport and take the first flight to Iowa. She had an uncle there. She wouldask to stay with him until she learned something from Joe. Mary Sue had never been close to her uncle, but now she was desperate.
    But then, a few miles from the airport, her truck unexpectedly shuddered violently and started slowing down, and the oil light and the engine light went on. Mary Sue pulled over to the shoulder as smoke poured out of the front. She buried her face in her hands and cried out to God. Then, after wiping her face with her blouse sleeve, she leaped out of the truck, lifted the hood, and climbed back into the cab to figure out what to do.
    That was when a dusty Suburban with South Dakota license plates pulled up behind her. There were three men in the front seat—all of them appeared to be American Indians. Mary Sue also saw a woman in the back seat.
    She had a momentary sense of fear. But then one of the passengers walked up to the window with a broad smile. She instantly recognized the letters “WWJD” on his baseball hat as he began to introduce himself and ask how he could help.
    Andrew White Arrow, along with one of his brothers—Tommy White Arrow—tinkered a bit with the engine. As they worked, the two of them seemed to be muttering together. Andrew smiled and appeared to be urging his brother to do something. Tommy, who was shorter and stockier than Andrew, was shaking his head “no” and glancing occasionally at Mary Sue, who stayed in the cab.
    After a few minutes, the two came around to the side of the truck. Mary Sue rolled down her window.
    â€œAs best as we can see, this engine is shot—you may have thrown a piston,” Andrew said. “Can we give you a lift? There has to be a gas station not too far from here.”
    Mary Sue shook her head. “Thanks anyway. I don’t have time to get this fixed. I’m trying to make a flight at the airport.”
    Andrew’s face brightened. “I’m headed there too. My flight doesn’t leave till tomorrow—we could at least take you there. Which flight are you taking?”
    Mary Sue looked away. “I’m not sure which flight.”
    â€œYou’re not sure what flight you’re taking?” Tommy asked suspiciously from behind Andrew’s tall frame. “Check your ticket. You have a ticket, right?”
    â€œNot exactly,” Mary Sue replied.
    Tommy threw his hands up, said something in another language, and began walking away. Andrew told his brother to hold on. Then the tall Indian man turned to Mary Sue, looking her full in the face. “Are you are in some kind of trouble?”
    She hesitated for a moment. But she had no choice now. Nothing short of complete trust would do.
    â€œYes,” she said. “I’m in some kind of trouble with Social Services. Maybe the police. I don’t know all of it. I just know that I have been wrongly treated. My child may be in jeopardy. I have to get out of the state before something terrible happens to my little boy. Before they take him away from me.”
    â€œHow can we help?” Andrew asked.
    â€œI don’t know,” she said. “Maybe you can’t. All I know is