They talked for another hour, but nothing came of it. After they adjourned, Keith, Norwood, and Green went to Keith’s home and called three federal judges before they found one who would intercede with Washington. An hour later, Keith received a telegram from the office of Attorney General John W. Griggs, who had conferred with President McKinley: At this time no evidence to warrant action by Washington.

Norwood said, “That’s it, then.”

Keith said, “Gentlemen, look out for yourselves from now on.”

Norwood sat silently, tears streaming down his face. How had it all come to this?

Green lifted him gently by the elbow. “Come on, brother—we’re on the wrong side of town.”

George Rountree was determined to end the violence. It was already midafternoon. In just a few hours, when the sun went down, absolute terror would descend on the city. It wouldn’t just be a few isolated confrontations, but wholesale shooting and burning.

When he arrived at his home to change into a fresh shirt and make some telephone calls, Chadbourn, the postmaster, was waiting in his parlor.

Chadbourn fanned a dozen telegrams toward Rountree and said without pleasantries, “Offers from all over the state to send down militia.”

Rountree grunted. “Just what this fire needs—more kerosene.”

“Colonel Waddell is calling the committee to meet.”

“His idea?” Meta had fetched a clean shirt, and Rountree changed right there in the parlor in front of Chadbourn—unthinkable, for a man who called his wife “Mrs.” even in private.

“Mine,” Chadbourn said. “Dan Gore thinks he can persuade the board to resign.”

Rountree buttoned his shirt, fixed the celluloid collar around his neck, knotted his tie. “I thought that was already settled.”

“Take it easy. He has a couple of conditions.”

Rountree swore. Meta ducked her head and pretended she hadn’t heard. Couldn’t everybody see it was way past that? They had to send a clear signal to MacRae and Moore and Dowling and all the other little generals roaming around loose that the government was back in firm control. That meant a new mayor and board.

Chadbourn said, “Police Chief Melton will disappear if we pay him the remainder of his year’s salary. That’s only two months.”

“The job he’s done, he ought to give back what we already paid him.”

“Mayor Wright will resign if you let him pretend it’s his idea.”

“Great—let’s all pretend. What else?”

“Gore has suggested a slate of candidates for a new board.”

“I knew it!”

Chadbourn smiled. “It’s okay, George. He’s come over to our side. They’re all our people.”

All but three had signed the White Man’s Declaration of Independence.

The meeting was already in progress in city hall in the room across from the board chamber. As Rountree entered, Waddell stopped in mid-sentence. “I see we have a stranger present,” he said sharply. “George, this is a closed meeting.”

“Stranger?” Rountree said. “What the hell?”