Danny gave that a dark chuckle. “That’s a fact, isn’t it?”

The Detroit batter banged a cloud-climber toward left and it made a loud clang off the scoreboard. Ruth mistimed the carom and the ball hopped over his glove and he had to go stutter-stepping after it in the grass. By the time he came up with it and threw it into the infield, a simple single had turned into a triple and a run had scored.

“You really play him?” Danny said.

“Think I imagined it?” Luther said.

“No, I’m just wondering if it’s like them cactuses you’re always going on about.”

“Cacti.”

“Right.”

Luther looked out to left, watched Ruth wipe some sweat off his face with his tunic. “Yeah, I played him. Him and some of them others out there and some Cubs, too.”

“You win?”

Luther shook his head. “Can’t win against that type. If they say the sky’s green and get their buddies to agree with them, say it a few more times until they believe it, how you going to fight that?” He shrugged. “Sky’s green from then on.”

“Sounds like you’re talking about the police commissioner, the mayor’s office.”

“Whole city thinks you’re going to strike. Calling you Bolshies.”

“We’re not striking. We’re just trying to get a fair shake.”

Luther chuckled. “In this world?”

“World’s changing, Luther. The little man ain’t lying down like he used to.”

“World ain’t changing,” Luther said. “Ain’t ever going to, neither. They tell you the sky’s green until you finally say, ‘Okay, the sky’s green’? Then they own the sky, Danny, and everything underneath it.”

“And I thought I was cynical.”

Luther said, “Ain’t cynical, just open-eyed. Chicago? They stoned that colored kid ’cuz he drifted over to their side of the water. The water, Danny. Whole city’s like to burn to the ground now because they think they own water. And they’re right. They do.”

“Coloreds are fighting back, though,” Danny said.

“And what’s that going to do?” Luther said. “Yesterday, those four white men got shot to pieces on the Black Belt by six coloreds. You hear that?”

Danny nodded. “I did.”

“All anybody’s talking about is how those six coloreds massacred four white men. Those white boys had a goddamned machine gun in that car. A machine gun, and they were firing it at colored folk. People ain’t talking about that, though. They just talking about white blood running ’cuz of crazed niggers. They own the water, Danny, and the sky is green. And that’s that.”

“I can’t accept that.”

“That’s why you’re a good man. But being good ain’t enough.”

“You sound like my father.”

“Better than sounding like mine.” Luther looked at Danny, the big, strong cop who probably couldn’t remember the last time the world didn’t work out for him. “You say you’re not going to strike. Well, good. But the whole city, including the colored sections, think you are. Those boys you’re trying to get a fair shake from? They’re already two steps ahead of you, and it ain’t about money to them. It’s about you forgetting your place and stepping out of line. They won’t allow it.”