In the sacristy, Walker Taylor waited in the dark.

Within minutes, the other men drifted in: Fennell, Beery, Meares, Robertson, Smith. Walker Taylor lit a beeswax candle. It smelled sweet in the musty air.

“Rountree did a fine job procuring the thing,” Beery said. “Quite a show on the river.”

“It stays at the armory,” Walker Taylor said. “The Wilmington Light Infantry have charge of it.”

“But as commander of the State Guard—”

Walker Taylor nodded. “Right. In a crisis, they answer to me.”

Fennell said, “I don’t like Dan Russell coming down here to give a goddamn speech.” Nobody said anything, but they all were embarrassed by cursing in the sacristy. “Nor Dockery, nor Pritchard.”

“I don’t see what we can do,” Walker Taylor said. “It’s a free country.”

Fennell persisted. “But it will stir everybody up before it’s time.”

“Maybe we should just give our own speech,” Smith said.

“Who could set the right tone?” Beery said. “It would have to be the right tone.”

“Get ’em riled up, but keep the lid on.”

“Right,” Walker Taylor said. “Let me talk to George. He mentioned someone.”

“Waddell,” Beery said. “That old warhorse. That’s who he wants.”

Walker Taylor said, “Well see. We’ll just see.”

“I like it,” Smith said. “He can put fire in their bellies.”

“He’ll give us a stemwinder,” Robertson said, “if anybody can do it.”

“Man can hold a crowd,” Beery said. “You better believe it.”

Meares, who had not yet spoken, said, “You’re playing with fire.”

Beery said, “You want Colonel Taylor to be mayor, don’t you? Isn’t that what we want?”

The men all agreed that this was so.

“We’ve got to push,” Beery said. “Not too hard, but not too soft, either.”

Walker Taylor thought about being mayor. A man could accomplish a lot of good for people. In this town, a lot of things needed doing. He could do them—he and his army of good boys. “We’ve got to keep the Red Shirts in line,” he said.

Fennell said, “They’ll come in damned useful on Election Day.”

Walker Taylor said, “Now, you listen to me. We’re not vigilantes. We are defenders of the civil order.”

“Men in this town want to work,” Beery said. “White men. Mike Dowling is their hero.”

“He’s an out-of-work house painter.”

“Nobody’s hiring nigrahs anymore,” Meares said.

Fennell said, “Nobody’s firing ’em fast enough, either. This thing’s going to go off.”

Walker Taylor said, “Don’t spoil the larger plan.”

“Less than a month,” somebody said.

“Can we rely on Kenan, when the time comes?” Beery said.

Walker Taylor gave him a look that made him sorry he’d asked.

“Will Colonel Davis interfere?” someone said. Charles Davis was acting adjutant general of the State Guard—Colonel Taylor’s superior.

Walker Taylor said, “I have assurances that he will authorize a local solution.”

The men nodded.