Scott had taken the letter—good, that was done. Scott was young but reliable. As a lawyer, he was only fair, but he had a bright future as a politician. People took to him immediately. He had charm, good looks, and a winning smile, and he was a team player. He ought to be putting the letter into Colonel Waddell’s hands any minute now.

Up ahead, Norwood spied two men walking together. One was lean and blond. Even from behind, he recognized the other’s halting gait, the sloped shoulders and walking cane. “Hold up there, Mr. Calabash,” he said.

Harry Calabash turned, startled. Sam Jenks turned with him, alert for attack. “Oh, it’s you, John,” Harry said. “How are you this evening?”

“You know better than to ask me that.”

“Have you met Mr. Jenks?”

Norwood bobbed his head and held out his hand. “His wife is one of our finest teachers. Can’t say I admire his own work as much.”

“Ah. Of course.”

“We’ve sent the reply,” Norwood said, almost defiantly.

“What do you want me to say, John—that everything’s going to be fine?”

“I don’t expect anything but fairness, Harry.”

Calabash shook his head. “Listen to him, Sam. Fairness, that’s all he wants. What city has he been living in?”

“Shouldn’t you be getting on home?” Sam said to Harry. Harry was drunk, and he didn’t want Norwood talking him into anything.

Norwood said, “You never come around anymore, Harry. You never talk to us anymore.”

“Can’t be helped,” Harry said. “I’m not a free agent, you know—I work for a man.”

“And your friend?”

Sam Jenks looked insolent and wary.

Harry said, “Look—”

“Forget it. Forget you ever saw me. I’ll go back to my people and you go back to yours.”

“Aw, don’t be that way.”

“What way should I be? I’m part of this government. I’m an elected official. White people voted for me, too.”

“I know. I was one of them.”

“Then write the truth for a change, Harry. You know how it is. Write it that way.”

“John, John. You’ve been in politics long enough to know. Somewhere between my typewriter and the front page, the truth changes.”

“And you take no responsibility?”

“I work for a man.”

“So it’s not your fault? Is that what you mean?”

“These days, John, most things are my fault. Good night.”

Harry turned and went on his way, Sam beside him. The sky was clear and full of stars. Sam looked up and picked out the Big Dipper. He had never seen a sky so big. He could almost feel the earth rolling under his feet.