Norwood could tell he was scared. He understood for the first time that Henderson had been working very hard to appear composed. Now, he just looked like a man worried sick about his family and his livelihood.

Norwood shook his head. “I’ve been trying to get them to meet for a month now. Everybody’s too scared, I guess. Dr. Wright has disappeared. Some say he’s hiding out, some say he’s long gone and not coming back.”

“That’s unheard of—he’s the mayor.”

“You read the last part of their so-called declaration. They want us all out of there. We dodged that part in our answer.”

“Can they do that?” Henderson said.

“I didn’t think they could do what they’ve already done. But the board, we’re a duly elected government. I don’t see how they can get around that.”

“Who becomes mayor if the mayor’s left town?”

“The board would appoint one,” Norwood said.

“What about the board? What if they’re scared off?”

“It’s never happened. They could nominate their own successors, I guess, but the full board would have to vote it.”

Norwood heard his own words as if somebody else were speaking them. He was talking out loud about the overthrow of the government—his government—as if it might actually happen. But it was a crazy idea. This was modern times, not the old plantation days. They couldn’t chase off the whole board, and none of them, including himself, would ever nominate successors that would please the white supremacists.

“I think we’re safe,” he said, after mulling it over. “Too many people would have to go along. You could never get that many people to go along with anything that dirty.”

“Let’s hope so,” Henderson said. “Meanwhile, get that damned board together. We’re breaking our backs trying to abide by the law, but the law is wearing thin.”

“I hear you, brother. I hear you.”

Ivanhoe Grant caught up with Armond Scott at the corner of Front Street, just as Scott was stepping into the street in the direction of downtown. He came up behind Scott and startled him.

“Oh, it’s you, Reverend. Guess I’m a bit jumpy.” He patted the letter in his breast pocket.

“I’d be jumpy as a cat with that mail in my pocket,” Grant said amiably. They walked together for half a block. Clearly, Scott was in no hurry to get where he had to go. “You’re a brave man,” Grant said.

“What do you mean?” Scott stopped and glanced left, then right, his hand over his heart.

“Didn’t hear no army of volunteers fighting you for the job.”

“You nominated me.”

“I know, I know. Thought I was doing you a favor, giving you some standing among those men. They need some fresh thinking.”

“New blood.”

“That’s right, new blood. But maybe I put you on the spot.”