He looked at Thomas. Thomas met his eyes and then shook his head and turned his face from him.

That night, the State Guard shot four men in Jamaica Plain. One died. The Tenth Regiment cleared the dice players from the Boston Common, marching them up Tremont Street at bayonet point. A crowd gathered. Warning shots were fired. A man was shot through the chest trying to rescue a dice player. He succumbed to his wounds later that evening.

The rest of the city was quiet.

Danny spent the next two days marshaling support. He was assured in person that the Telephone & Telegraph Union was ready to walk off the job at a moment’s notice. The Bartenders Union assured him of the same, as did the United Hebrew Trade Unions, and the Carmen and Electrical Workers Unions. The firemen, however, would not agree to meet with him or return his calls.

I came here to say good-bye,” Luther said.

Nora stepped back from the door. “Come in, come in.”

Luther entered. “Danny around?”

“No. He’s at a meeting in Roxbury.”

Luther noticed she had her coat on. “You’re going there?”

“I am. I expect it might not go well.”

“Let me walk you then.”

Nora smiled. “I’d like that.”

On their way to the el, they got plenty of stares, this white woman and this black man strolling through the North End. Luther considered staying a step behind her, so he’d appear to be her valet or something similar, but then he remembered why he was going back to Tulsa in the first place, what he’d seen in that mob, and he kept abreast of her, his head high, his eyes clear and looking straight ahead.

“So you’re going back,” Nora said.

“Yeah. Got to. Miss my wife. Want to see my child.”

“It’ll be dangerous, though.”

“What isn’t these days?” Luther said.

She gave that a small smile. “You’ve a point.”

On the el, Luther felt his legs stiffen involuntarily when they crossed the trestle that had been hit during the molasses flood. It had long since been repaired and reinforced, but he doubted he’d ever feel safe crossing it.

What a year! If he lived a dozen lives, would he ever see another twelve months like these? He’d come to Boston for safety, but the thought of it now made him suppress a laugh—from Eddie McKenna to the May Day riots to the whole police force walking off the job, Boston had to be the least safe city he’d ever come across in his life. The Athens of America, my ass. Way these crazy Yankees had been acting since Luther arrived, he’d change the name to the Asylum of America.

He caught Nora smiling at him from the white section of the car and he tipped his hat to her and she gave him a mock salute in return. What a find she was. If Danny didn’t find a way to fuck it up, he’d grow old a very happy man with this woman by his side. Not that Danny seemed intent on fucking it up, just that he was a man after all, and no one knew better than Luther himself how completely a man could step on his own dick when what he thought he wanted contradicted what he knew he needed.