thinking to sell this house to a black man, see if it might bring you out in the open.'
Boyd said, 'Your nigger would never've known what hit him.'
Devil came with a jar of shine no meaner-looking than water, a few specks of charcoal in it, his fingers in the three glasses he placed on the table.
Boyd shoved one of the glasses back to him. 'This is me and Raylan's party. You aren't invited.' Devil seemed to want to argue, give a reason to stay. Boyd told him go on, get outta here.
Now he poured their drinks, a few inches of pure corn into each glass. 'I don't like him hearing things he's liable to take the wrong way.'
Raylan said, 'How you feel about Ava?' He took a sip. It was smooth, but caused saliva to rise in his mouth and made him swallow a couple of times.
'I called her up,' Boyd said. 'I told her the only reason I didn't take her out and shoot her, I saw she had no choice in what she done. I told her she showed spunk for a woman, not knowing what I'd do about it. I told her another reason was the Bible saying a man should see to the needs of his brother's widow, and that I intended to take care of her.'
'Bless your heart,' Raylan said.
'Don't get smart with me. I meant it.'
'Boyd, you use the Bible to get what you want, same as you use all this white supremacy bullshit to rob banks and raise hell, blow up a church in Cincinnati for the fun of it. See, I'm giving you the benefit you aren't mental. I know you aren't stupid enough to believe that mud people story.'
They stood facing each other across the table, the quart mason jar of moonshine between them, Boyd showing his size in a khaki shirt pulled taut across his chest. He appeared calm, his eyes showing interest.
He said, 'Raylan, the whole world's gonna become mulatta we don't separate the races quick. I believe that much and it's enough.'
Raylan only shrugged. 'Then you'll die for it or go to prison.'
Boyd looked at him now like he was trying to decide something in his mind.
'You'd shoot me, you get the chance?'
'You make me pull,' Raylan said, 'I'll put you down.'
Devil had the map spread open on the table again, the one with the circles and arrows. He said to Boyd coming back in the house, 'You kiss him goodbye?'
Boyd said, 'You want your jaw broke?'
'I'm kidding with you,' Devil said, waited for Boyd to sit down and hunched over next to him to point out on the map.
'Here, we take 421 down across the Virginia line. East on 606 and we come to Nina, not an hour from here.'
'How many people?'
'Less'n four hundred. Nearest deputies are at Big Stone Gap. Hit the town, the bank, the stores, bang bang bang, any place there's a cash register. Run up the flag . . . Which one?'
'Rebel battle flag.'
'That'd be my choice. We show how a town can be taken over and secured with fifteen militia. How, the time comes, it can be done all over the Jewnited States.'
Boyd put his finger on a line Devil had drawn. 'I don't see a road here.'
'It ain't on the map, Boyd, it's a four-wheeler trail through marijuana country, one of many the growers use. It takes us up to near 38 and we're back home.'
Now, as Boyd studied the map, Devil said, 'Why'd you let him go? I could've put him away, easy.'
Boyd looked up. He said to Devil, 'Stick to your recon.' Looked at the map again and said, 'What I do with Raylan's my business.'
Boyd had come outside with him to stand with his hands in his pockets, nodding toward the crest of a slope that had been strip-mined and stood bare against the night sky. He told Raylan they were cutting the tops off of mountains and letting the slag run down to ruin the creeks. Shaking houses to pieces with their blasting. He reminded Raylan how their dads had dug coal ten hours a day for eighty cents. How 'me and you' would go into worked-out mines and chop into the pillars of coal holding up the roof, and run like hell if she began to cave. Remember? It was called robbing the mine. And how they stood on the picket line the year they struck Eastover and watched the courts back the company scabs and gun thugs. 'Whose side's the govermint always been on, Raylan, us or the people with money? And who controls the money and wants to mongrelize the world?' That was his argument, why he felt he could rob banks and kill anyone wasn't white. There was no talking to him.
Raylan said, 'You're gonna stand in a lineup tomorrow, Harlan County courthouse, nine o'clock.'
'What'd I do now?'
'You can show up or we'll come get you.'
He made his way down the mountain and through Evarts past his high school, the Home of the Wildcats, going toward Harlan till he swung off 38 to follow dirt roads dark as pitch, no sign other than JESUS SAVES, and would have missed the house if a light wasn't on - Raylan thinking that if he'd stayed he'd be living up a hollow in a house like that, a pickup truck in the yard. . . . But what would he be?
Ava hugged him and gave him a kiss on the cheek and held on bringing him inside, Ava wearing a loose sweater now with her shorts, wearing her hair in a soft wave that came close to one of her brown eyes and a nice scent that he liked - Raylan sitting with her on the sofa now, their drinks on the coffee table Bowman must've put his steel-toed workshoes on to get it scarred like it was, Bowman a presence, his wife until a few days ago sitting at the end of the sofa by the lamp shining on her hair.
'Did you see Boyd?'
'I told him he has to come in tomorrow. Boyd blew up a church in Cincinnati and we have a witness who'll take a look at him.'
'Well, that was quick. Boy, you work fast,' Ava said, raising her eyebrows at him. 'And I oughta know.'
Right there, Raylan knew he should tell her wait, he wasn't making a move on her. But what he said was, 'Boyd might not show up. Even if he does, I'm pretty sure he won't be made, identified.'
'So you'll be staying around? Cool.'
Ava got up and went to her CD player. She put on Shania Twain and came back singing along, ' 'Men's shirts, short skirts, oh, oh, oh, really go wild, doin' it in style . . .' ' The phone rang. Ava turned down the volume on her way to the kitchen. Raylan heard her say, 'Who? . . . Oh, yeah, I remember. . . . Listen, hon? I can't talk to you right now, I've got company.' Now she was laughing as she hung up the phone. Ava turned the volume back up and joined Shania again singing, ' 'Oh, oh, oh, get in the action, feel the attraction . . .' Fella name Russ. Can you believe he's the second one's called me? I kinda knew 'em from a Fourth of July party we went to. Couple of showoffs. They made a bet, see who could throw down a blue blazer the fastest. You know, you light a shot glass of whiskey? That's a blue blazer. They both threw theirs over their shoulder and banged their shot glasses down at the same time, on the picnic table.' Ava shook her head, smiling at the memory. 'Cute guys, I'd see them watching me. Now I'm single again they're calling me up. You believe it?'
Ava fell into the sofa to sit low, her head bent against the backrest, her legs apart in the shorts. She turned her head against the cushion to look at Raylan. 'Jealous?'
For a moment there, listening to her on the phone, the flirty way she used her voice, he did get a feeling he didn't like. In his head and out again, but it was there.
She said, 'Hey, I'm just teasing you. I know you have a life. You must, a cool guy like you? No, I just thought, you're here, why don't we party? I can still do those old Wildcat cheers I know you liked to watch. I still have all the cute moves. Get your motor turned on. You want, Raylan, you can spend the night. How's that sound?'
VIII.
