Chapter 8
A remote part of Central Montana, 1989
“Mr. Smith, tell me the story again,” ten-year-old Josiah begged. “Tell me about my father.”
“Joe, I've told you three times this week.” The silver-haired black man sighed, frustrated by his young student's pestering.
“It's okay, Josiah,” Annie replied. “I remember it. I'll tell you.”
Josiah smiled, white teeth flashing in his café au lait face, in no way deterred. “I want to hear it from your grandpa,” he told his friend.
“Well, Josiah,” Mr. Smith replied, “I'll consider it… after practice.”
Josiah commenced to whining as only a small boy can, but Mr. Smith put his hand on the child's thin back and ushered him out of the central meeting hall of the compound to the courtyard. Annie trailed along, trying not to look too eager. Why doe
