There were categories among the Orientals; everyone knew that. The Japanese could not be citizens. The Hindus could.

ON TUESDAY, one week before the election, Amarjeet picked up Mr. Moriyama early. They would help to set up the school gymnasium for the meeting that night. They did not know how many people to expect.

The Japanese Association wanted to appeal to the people directly, to tell them that if the Asian farmers left, the Valley would decline, that Anglos would not farm the land they owned, and they would not replace their Japanese sharecroppers with Anglo tenants because the Anglos did not want to do such work; it was too demanding, too hot, too menial. The grower-shipper corporations would buy the land and hire cheap labor. If the Japanese left, what would happen to the family farm, to the dream of the Imperial Valley?

Mr. B. R. Katoh was organizing the meeting. Amarjeet and Mr. Moriyama joined him and four other men who were unfolding chairs in the gymnasium, arranging them in long rows. They had a podium in place. Two women had just arrived, bringing bags of Japanese pastries and bottles of lemonade, when School Superintendent Robert Halliday entered. Behind him were four other Anglo men and Deputy Elijah Hollins.

“Mayor said this meeting’s canceled,” the superintendent said. “Threat to public safety.” He was Anna Halliday’s father.

Mr. Moriyama looked at Amarjeet, as if to confirm that he had known this would happen all along.

“We want only talk with people,” Mr. Katoh said. “Tell them our story.”

“Mayor’s orders,” Deputy Hollins said, stepping forward. He was chewing tobacco. He thrust out his chest, thumbs tucked into his belt. A pistol hung by his hip.

Amarjeet felt rage build up inside him, like a rock, unyielding. He watched as the Japanese men stacked the chairs together and began to put them away.

AMARJEET ROSE ON ELECTION DAY and went to the high school, his high school, to cast his vote. Out front, men held signs for Harding, for Cox.

At the door to the schoolhouse, he was stopped by Deputy Hollins, the same officer who had shut down the Japanese Association meeting before it had even begun.

“Voting day today, Singh. You have to be a citizen.”

Amarjeet was prepared. He took out his documents. The certificate of naturalization. His honorable discharge from the army. He showed them to Hollins without speaking.

“I didn’t know they were handing those out to Hindus,” Hollins said. His finger poked at the certificate. Amarjeet was surprised that Hollins knew who he was. He no longer wore a turban, and he had been away from the Valley for a year and a half.

“Now you do, I guess.” He spoke quietly.

When he reached the clerk’s desk, he did not wait to be asked again. He merely showed the papers. The clerk glanced at the deputy, who stood by the doorway, his thumbs hooked on his belt.