I waved at Talcott again. When he still ignored me, I sprinted to him just before the train pulled in.

“I didnt want you here,” I said.

“You dont tell me what to do. This here is my fight as much as yourn.”

The local pulled in and stopped, its engine grumbling to itself. The doors of the red passenger car flew open. The gunmen came down jauntily, with the pleased and impatient air of men who have done a job and are anxious to be home. They sauntered along the platform to wait for the Bluefield train.

Isom waited until the local pulled out before he approached. C.J. and Albion flanked him on either side. Isom set his hand to his badge to see if it was in place. Then he walked up to the two men in pinstripes.

“You gentlemen have been evicting people from their homes in Jenkinjones,” said Isom.

They looked him up and down. Both had smooth, broad faces and thick fleshy lips. The taller one smiled at Isom while the other studied his brother’s face expectantly.

“We’ve been removing trespassers from the property of the American Coal Company, Sheriff,” said the tall one.

“I aint a sheriff,” Isom said. “I’m chief of police. And you’re under arrest.”

They showed no signs of surprise.

“I got a warrant from the county seat,” Isom continued.

“What’s the charge?”

“Assault. And illegal possession of weapons. You aint got a permit for them guns.”

“Since when do we need one?”

“Since last week,” C.J. said. “City council passed an ordinance last week.”

“And who are you?”

“I’m the mayor of this here town.”

“Mr. Marcum, is that right? Well, Mr. Marcum, Mr. Justice, I’m afraid I’ve got some unpleasant news for you. It’s really you who are under arrest. We’re taking you both to Bluefield with us.”

He reached inside his coat and brought out a piece of paper. I heard a clicking sound beside my ear. I turned my head. Talcott held his pistol cocked. Our eyes met.

“You cant do that,” C.J. was protesting. “You got no right. This here aint no kind of warrant.”

“I beg your pardon, but it’s quite official. Drawn up in Mercer County yesterday.”

“We aint going,” Isom said. “Hit’s a set-up.”

The tall man’s hand slipped back inside his coat, the butt of a pistol appeared, Talcott’s gun roared beside my head. The man looked surprised, the weight of his gun dragged his hand down as he fired, and C.J. fell to the ground clutching his belly. Isom ducked and fired, my rifle was on my shoulder and I pulled the trigger, the short man fell, his hand tangled in his watch chain, Albion Freeman dragged C.J. backward, the gun thugs ran for cover. They shot back. The glass front of the hardware store exploded and the men inside screamed. The Bluefield train pulled into the station, one guard ran for it, Isom, kneeling and somehow unscathed by bullets, cut him down. The faces in the train windows flashed by. The train did not stop.