THE STREETS WERE STILL CROWDED, although the band was silent. Amarjeet could barely believe what he had done. He felt elated. They watched the parade march down Main Street, drums beating time, tuba blaring. The Rifle Club came first on horseback, wearing chaps and Stetsons; the Imperial County Council of Defense, riding in a Model T, followed them. They had traveled that morning from Brawley to Niland to Fredonia, marching in each town’s parade as they passed. Then came Fredonia’s volunteers for the Red Cross, the Young Women’s Christian Association, and the Women’s County Food Conservation Committee. The brass band played on after the marching had stopped. Flags waved, ribbons were thrown, and still the men lined up to register, standing in a long snaking queue that began at the post office and ended at Charlie’s Horse and Mule Rental.

They ran into Harry Moriyama, who had registered before them. He was cheerful, and to Amarjeet, always seemed unburdened. Together, they walked through the covered promenade. Flags hung from every storefront. The town’s banks had set up tents and each had a young and pretty girl standing alongside the banker men, wooing the passersby for the sale of Liberty bonds. At the intersection of Main and Central, under the cover of a large ramada, a crowd gathered to eat ice cream and watch the square dancers, to hear the mayor speak about how Fredonia would contribute to the war effort: not only with fighting men, not only with war heroes, but also by planting castor beans for motor oil, growing hemp for airplane cloth, and bringing food, food, and more food for the region’s cantonments. “Sign the Hoover pledge cards! Meatless Tuesdays! Wheatless Wednesdays! Porkless Saturdays!” The mayor’s voice had grown harsh and dry. “Nobody will deny that the Imperial Valley did its share and more!”

“Will the local people really do that, Amarjeet?” Ram asked.

“Look at them, bhai-ji,” Amarjeet said. “They will.” A group of middle-aged women had huddled near the mayor and were listening intently. “We should too.”

“My parents won’t do it,” Harry said. “I wish they would.” Amarjeet felt vindicated. They walked around for a bit longer, then Harry left for home in his wagon. Without him, Amarjeet began to feel nervous. The weight of what he had done began to settle on him, heavy and stifling.

He and Ram walked behind the general store and untied the mare from the rail. “The medical exam was demeaning,” Ram said, when they had started for home.

“They must check everything,” said Amarjeet.

“Why must they check everything if we are exempt?”

“They must have a record of us all.” The frame of the buckboard creaked underneath them. “Ram-ji?”

“Yes.”

“I need your support.”

“For what?”

“I have volunteered for the U.S. Army.”

He saw Ram blink as the knowledge settled. “You volunteered.”

“Yes.” He thought Ram would be more surprised.

“I thought that you might, Jeetu.”