The office. What can I do for you, Hill? he asked. Sir, I need to talk to you about this Hatfield and McCoy thing. And the Gunsmith. I know, General, he said, you don’t approve of Pinkerton’s plan—but we’re paying the man for his expertise. May I sit, sir? Buckner waved to his visitor’s chair. Hill folded his excess height into it. Sir, I believe my men and I can go into West Virginia and find Devil Anse Hatfield. The leader of the Hatfields was William Anderson, but everyone knew him as Devil Anse. Then why haven’t you? Excuse me, sir, but you haven’t taken the shackles off me, Hill said. Just let me go in and do it my way. I want Devil Anse arrested, not killed, Buckner said. Yes, sir, but he doesn’t have the same scruples that you do. Innocent people are getting killed because they’re finding themselves in the middle of his feud, which has been going on for years. And it’s a family feud, since the two sides are now related by marriage—a marriage neither one approved of, by the way. I don’t need a history lesson on the Hatfields and McCoys,