“I want this as bad as anybody,” he said. “But they want it too. Rondal, we heard things. We think one of the boys that talked this thing up is a company agent. They want us to attack because they know they’ll win and they’ll call it treason and they’ll have an excuse to break us all over this state.”

“They got to win first,” I said. “Back off and you’re done broke.”

“I want to say go on, but I can’t. What I said has to be the official position.”

We stayed on that ball field and argued for over an hour. Some men drifted off, like they were reluctant to leave but had lost sight of the craziness that had brought them there. Others stood with their arms folded, ready to march if only Keeney said go. The Italians sang for a while, then lapsed into a sun-beaten silence. One Italian who wore a uniform I’d never seen before came over to where I stood arguing with Keeney. He shook my hand.

“You say good things,” he declared. “My papa, he come to this country for the freedom. He can’t find the land to buy. Then he get crushed in the roof fall, poom!” He clapped his hands. “Now, where I go to find the freedom, huh? Alaska? Pah! I tell my wife, I have to keep look here, you know?” He turned on Keeney, jabbering in Italian, and flicked his fingers beneath his chin the way the Tallies do to show they’re disgusted.

“What the hell kind of uniform is that?” Keeney asked.

The man drew himself up to his full height. “Italian army,” he said proudly. “My papa’s uniform.”

“Shit,” Keeney said. He shoved back his hat, looked at me cockeyed, shook his head and smiled. “Before I took over this district, the leadership was so careful they looked ten ways before they pissed.”

“I know it. I aint thinking hard of you, Frank. But me and my brother left folks in tents at home. We aim to go back there.”

In the end it was out of both our hands. Talcott and I were ready to order our train back to Blair when men came running from the ball field, calling at us to wait for them. Two men had arrived on a railroad handcar, calling that the state police had crossed Blair Mountain and shot up the mining camp at Sharples. Scores were dead, they claimed, including women who were kidnapped and forced to march as a shield in front of the policemen. I spied Frank Keeney on the station platform just before we pulled out.

“Send the boys back that have started home!” I yelled.

He waved his hand and let it drop as though he hardly had the strength to lift it. A dark wet patch spread under the arm of his light suit jacket.

“Come on with us!”