That ranger would call the police and we would be taken into custody by the police. If they investigated momma, all they would find is that she was a widow and had a baby some twenty years before. She’d be off the hook and we’d spend our lives being shuttled between one foster home and another when the authorities discovered that we were not going to grow up. People might be willing to adopt a baby boy, but not when the baby was going to remain an infant its entire life.
We waited apprehensively for the explosion that was to come, but we heard nothing but the sounds of packing coming from our bedroom. Momma came back into the room to get another packing box and shot us an enormous grin. “What was that supposed to mean?”, I wondered.