After the game, the locker room felt like a crypt.

The players weren't jawing at each other. Or at Henry for that matter. They weren't snapping towels at butts. They weren't telling jokes or playing gags. All the usual shenanigans had been replaced by players getting changed with barely a word.

Henry couldn't help but feel a twinge of sadness. He threw on a pair of tan khakis and a navy blue shirt. As he shoved his uniform into his duffle bag, Henry looked over to the other side of the locker room. He couldn't believe what he was seeing.

Jake was holding a conference with the players by his locker. All the players except for Henry and Dale.

Henry plopped down on the bench next to his friend who gave him a wary look.

"What's Jake up to over there?" Henry whispered.

Dale looked over his shoulder, then he met Henry's eyes. "Two bits says he's stirring up trouble."

Henry stood up. "Well, I think I'm going to find out what kind of no good he's up to."

Dale's mouth opened wide as an O. He shook his head, waiving his hand in a don't-do-it gesture.

Ignoring Dale's warning, Henry crept over to the circle of men.

The players were huddled around Jake, who perched in a large oak chair, resembled a king on a throne. Henry settled into a space behind Cletus, his size making him a perfect human wall.

"We can't go on like this," Jake said, his voice low. "If we're going to salvage this season, we got to do something about it now."

Henry's ears burned. The thought of Jake talking about him behind his back infuriated him.

"I don't know, Jake," Marshall said in a quiet voice. "Henry played a decent game. And he scored both runs. That umpire cost us the game."

Rusty Ryan looked surprised. "Marshall, are you taking that Negro's side?"

"He's right!" Carlos Santiago interjected, a gleam in his brown eyes.

Henry found himself surprised, as a couple of the other Pioneers sounded in agreement.

Ryan glared at Carlos. "Nobody asked you, Taco Man."

Henry's hand balled into a fist. Ryan had no right to talk to Carlos that way. It was bad enough that Jake and his posse had targeted Henry. But he didn't want anyone else to suffer what he'd been going through.

"You all cut it out!" Jake said. "That Negro's got us divided. If he stays on the team much longer, we can kiss the season goodbye."

Ryan and several of the other players clamored in agreement.

Henry's eyes narrowed. Jake was really getting on his nerves, and after tamping down his emotions for the entire game, Henry just didn't have the will to ignore all the insinuations being thrown his way.

"I didn't lose this game!" Henry shouted.

All the players straightened up. They turned and stared at Henry.

Henry wasn't done. "I tried my damn hardest to help the team win. I didn't tell that umpire to make a lousy call. What do you have against me, Jake?"

Jake stood up. He closed the distance to Henry, smirking. "I don't have anything against you."

A soft laugh escaped Henry's lips. When it finally subsided, he said, "For a minute, I thought you were Scout, because that's a load of horseshit."

"Hey, leave Scout out of this!"

Henry lifted his hands in an apologetic gesture. It was the first time he'd seen Jake care for a living creature other than himself. Could it be possible there was a human side to Jake?

Henry said, "We may have different backgrounds, but we can make it work."

Jake pointed an accusing finger at Henry. "No, we're just different." The Cowboy fell silent, his expression a mixture of emotions. "I don't hate you. Let's get that straight. We're different and that's enough reason. If you want the Pioneers to succeed, you'll leave the team as soon as you step off the bus in Hester."

Dale cut in from across the room. "He belongs on this team!"

"Henry go! Henry go!" Ryan started chanting.

Aside from Ryan, three players shifted to Jake's side and joined in the chant. There was Larry Fletcher, left fielder. Fred Beecham, center field. And Sam Porter, right field.

Cletus, always the lone wolf, refused to take side. Garrett Hayes, the first baseman, looked on in stunned silence.

All the others started shouting over the chant. These men were on Henry's side. Dale. Marshall. Carlos. Ramon.

"Hey! What's all the ruckus?"

The men looked up to see Coach Taylor and Frank Bell storming towards them.

"Mr. Bell, you got to get rid of this Negro!" Jake said. "You saw it. He lost us another game."

Mr. Bell raised a quieting hand.

"Pipe down!" Coach snapped. "That isn't your call. None of you have any say in who plays on this team. And keep your traps shut, because Mr. Bell has something to tell you." Crossing his arms, Coach Taylor shook his head in disgust.

Frank pulled a tattered envelope from his pocket. "All right, now I want to read you something."

Henry bit his lip and eyed the men around him. Jake's face was red and there was the shine of sweat glinting on his forehead, but he didn't say anything. Neither did the other men.

Mr. Bell pulled a slip of paper from the envelope that he held. He unfolded the stationary and began to read.

Mother and Father,

I don't think that anything could ever have prepared me for what I would find when I arrived. Europe is in a terrible state. I think that we have a lot of work to do before any of us soldiers will be coming home. So many of the citizens here have lost their homes. So many people are hungry or without water.

The Army has been providing for its troops, and sending shipments of food and water to us. All I want to do is load up a wagon and bring it around to all of the locals. We do help them in whatever way we can.

A hospital has been set up. The doctors and nurses there have been taking care of both soldiers and locals. They took in an enemy soldier last week. He was too gravely injured to transport. Our commanding officer was upset that he'd been taken in. He died the next morning but I think he could have pulled through if the commander hadn't known he was there. But I guess this is war and I can't afford to get upset over everyone who dies.

I've already seen so many men lose their lives. Women and children too. There's hunger, death, and disease everywhere. I can't understand how such pain can be in the world. It seems as though it should be so easy to move past all this, and yet it's so hard. I hope that all of this is over soon.

I meant to stay positive when I wrote this. I told myself that I wouldn't say anything to worry you, but it's too difficult to try to put on a bright face and pretend, even if it is only through a letter. I hope that you'll forgive me for not attempting to shield my anxieties from you.

I miss the two of you very much, and I hope that I'll be coming home to see you both soon, although I fear that's not likely to be the case.

Say hello to grandfather for me and please tell him that I'll write to him as well, just as soon as I can.

Your Loving Son,

Peter

Frank looked up from the letter and studied the player's faces. "I wanted to read that letter to you boys to put things into perspective. You take a minute and think about the problems that you're dealing with. Do you think they compare to what our troops are going through?"

Murmurs passed through the room. The players shook their heads and a few muttered "no."

"That's right," Frank snapped. "Those boys overseas would love to trade their problems of life and death and suffering for your petty issues."

Coach Taylor interjected. "You're Pioneers for crying out loud. The jerseys you're wearing should mean something to you. Instead, you're all fighting like a bunch of third-grade sissies."

Henry didn't say a word. Coach was right.

"You should be playing for the Pioneers!" Coach said. "In a war, if you quit on any soldier in your platoon, you're quitting on the entire platoon. There's no choosing the soldier who fights next to you. And if you think all of those soldiers are white, you're all damned ignorant fools. If black and white soldiers can fight a war side by side, why can't you knuckleheads play a game of baseball together?"

The room was quiet. Several of the men hung their heads in shame. Others darted their eyes about with unease.

"Okay," Mr. Bell said. "So now we have an understanding. You quit on one player, then you quit on the entire team. Those are the only two options you boys have. You're either a team, or you're not. Now, who here is ready to quit?"

The room was silent. Not one player raised their hand or stepped forward.

Mr. Bell and Coach Taylor exchanged curious looks.

After a brief silence, Frank turned back to the players with a nod. "Okay then. You remember that for the next game."

Author's Note

Life is all about perspective.

For example, to some, failure is a debilitating event. To others, it's opportunity to learn and grow.

We can go through life with a false perspective. But when we discover the truth, when we believe in the truth, we are freed.

I wish everyone the chance to discover the truth in their lives.

Because we all deserve to be free.

Best Regards,

Tom

P.S. The chapter image - "House on the Hill" (1902) by Pablo Picasso.