“Use these flyers for kindling, not publicity,” Patrick warned Mick. “I worked with your writer to be sure the book had no outright lies that could get you convicted of libel, but this document is full of it.” He read directly from the flyer. “‘The Blackstones outlaw clocks in their coal mines so they can trick a man into thinking he’s worked only ten hours when he’s actually worked twelve.’ You know that’s not true. There is now a clock in every Blackstone mine, factory, and cafeteria. No one is being lied to about what hours they’ve worked.”

“But they used to.”

“Maybe, but not today, and this leaflet could get you convicted of libel.”

Before he could say more, a pounding on the door interrupted him.

“Mickey!” Someone banged again and shouted from the hallway. “I’ve brought reinforcements from Mingo County.”

Mick opened the door, and men started funneling inside, but Mick pushed them back. “Hey, Donahue. You’re early. I’ve got my lawyer here.”

Patrick eyed the half-dozen men standing in the hallway. Mingo County was a coal mining region in West Virginia, one of the areas that had given the Blackstones trouble over the years.

“What do you need a lawyer for?” Donahue asked. He was a wiry man with hard eyes and cheekbones like blades in his thin face.

Mick straightened his collar. “I don’t know if you’ve heard, but I’ve got an important book coming out soon.” Sarcasm dripped from his voice, and it didn’t look like Donahue appreciated it.

“Aye, which is why I don’t like a lawyer sniffing around. What’s in that crate?” Donahue pushed into the room and grabbed a flyer. “What are you doing with this?”

Mick gave a smirk. “Since they’re all over West Virginia, I figured I’d use some here in New York. They’ll help sell my book.”

“We’re about more than selling books,” Donahue said in a low tone. “If you think that book is going to do the trick, you’re an even stupider old drunk than we thought.”

“Who are you calling an old drunk?” Mick snarled, bumping his chest against the younger man’s.

“Pipe down,” Donahue ordered, easily brushing Mick aside. “We’ve got a lot to discuss, and it’s time for the lawyer to leave.”

Ruby grabbed Patrick by the arm. “Your ma will be waitin’ dinner for you, love,” she said, funneling him toward the door.

“Hey, Patrick,” Mick called out, “tell them no deal, okay? I’ve got too many irons in the fire to settle for the Blackstones’ scrawny deal.”