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There has been no revenge exacted for generations, but the collective arsenals seem undiminished. Dutch owns ten guns; his brother Elliott, who Dutch says was once "meaner than a striped snake," has 18. Belle has a .38, and another Hatfield, nearly 80, keeps a revolver in his office. When the mood strikes him, he swivels and fires into a stack of books in the corner. The people of the valley know from experience that some folks have a native wildness that is not to be trifled with. Even smiling, gracious Belle has a measure of congenital menace. Says her cousin Dutch: "I believe if you got her down to business, she would kill you." Her brother Arch, Dutch adds, "did kill two or three fellas."
Outsiders have always had a special appetite for the Tug Fork's bloody contretemps. Back in 1888, the New York World sent a reporter to have a look at the combatants. The World man's Barnum instincts were keen: he almost persuaded Devil Anse to decamp to New York City and charge gawkers $500 a week just to have a look at an authentic feudist, Winchester in hand.
Showmanship lives on. Family Feud is a TV game show, which pits one family against another. Two years ago, in a brain storm of a California kind, the producers brought Hatfields and McCoys, ten of each, out to Hollywood. The contestants were dressed in period costumes, and a rented scrub hog was led into the studio so the quasi-historical argument could be staged. "Buddy, we all had them old-timey guns," says Dutch. "Hey, I'd have given them $200 for the one I had." The McCoys won three out of five. For a finale, the Hatfields, on cue, fired blanks at the McCoys.
Henry D., who won $1,100, was glad for the chance to show the world that all feud animus has long since washed away. "I love those McCoys better than anything. But you know," he confides, "it was funny on the show when they asked this one McCoy girl, 'Name a New England state.' And she said 'London.' " His snigger is at least mischievous. "I really couldn't believe that: 'London.'" —By Kurt Andersen