The Enfield Gang Massacre #2: ‘Oh Mama, I’m In Fear For My Life/From The Long Arm Of The Law’

A primal glee of the Wild West is the over-the-top expression of action thanks to the primary weapons. There’s something dynamic and mythical about the six guns that modern action and weapons can’t replicate. It might be the level of skill and showmanship accompanying the six shooters or the inherent limitation that comes with six bullets in the chamber. Alongside the six guns, the other standard tools of violence for the West are the knife (in this writer’s mind, the bowie knife specifically) and dynamite. The explosive is tied into the genre thanks to its use in forming and shaping the frontiers for railroads and becomes a key image in the overall narrative of the era. 

The Enfield Gang Massacre #2 – written by Chris Condon, drawn, colored, and lettered by Jacob Phillips, with color assists from Pip Martin – is an explosive sophomore issue that deals with the immediate fallout of the Texas Ranger’s violent confrontation of Enfield and Bloom. The book opens on a stark dream sequence that leads to Enfield’s sudden appearance at home, caked in the blood of his compatriots. A quick escape is needed, but an explanation of what happened in between issues one and two precedes. 

After the ranger’s first shot, a whole six-gun showdown breaks out, and a few sticks of dynamite later, Enfield is the only survivor of the gang and hauls ass back to camp. The script returns to the present, and Amy demands Enfield think of more than just the two of them and warn the entire settlement. A dire set of warning shots and a surprise message from an empty horse stop the outlaw group from their escape, setting the stage for the inevitable last stand that will result in the titular massacre. 

The controlling theme of this issue is the stick of dynamite, representing a timed but volatile explosive ready in waiting. Condon uses the boomstick to accelerate the story’s pace, moving away from the melancholy tone present in issue one to a more striking feeling in this issue. The sense of urgency is straightforward, thanks to the division of time. The arrangement of events is less about starting on an action sequence for its own sake and instead highlights the concise, watchlike precision of the plotting. That arrangement sets a dramatic sense of momentum that the book has to catch back up to and works to center the audience in Enfield’s perspective. 

The shellshock of the first volley of the infamous massacre is evident, and the scripting reflects this in the opening dream sequence, which spells trouble storms a-brewin’. It’s an effective way to open and foreshadow the horrors of the issue, and Condon does not let up from there. The action-packed flashback is propulsive and sets the stage for the level of bloody carnage to expect going forward. It’s a sharp contrast to the charming criminal stick-up from the beginning of issue one. The arm of the law is a much more wicked force in the book, working as an antagonist to the rugged yet human cast of criminals looking for a bit of peace and prosperity. 

Condon delivers on this dynamic in the back end of the issue as Enfield is worried about his community, taking care of his running for his life, or staking a claim of vengeance. It’s what the ranger claims to be working for, that sense of peace for the larger group, but the difference in approaches is clear-cut. The essence of a Western comes out in this dichotomy, as morality blurs as the untamed spirit of the West comes into conflict with the harsh attempts to settle the chaos of the frontier. 

The rhythm of the issue and its sense of blurring morality start with the script, but the art and coloring thrust them into a new frontier of quality. Phillips’s layouts are simple but maximized to efficiency, relying on two controlling styles to create a sense of massive scope and fleeting urgency. The book opens with, and then returns periodically, to splash pages that sell the mythic nature of stories from the West. 

The first instance depicts Amy’s apocalyptic dreams, full of doom and pain. These pages capture a sense of raw terror, thanks to the framing of Amy’s face contorted in anguish. Beyond that pain, the crackling energy of a torn world contrasts with the shadow man’s gun blazing books the sequence. It’s an effective, arresting series of images that set the tone at a ten and then only wrangles an energy that finds itself even higher. 

The second use of the splash page occurs a bit later, as Enfield and the ranger break out into their shootout, each flanked by the men who choose to follow them. These moments transition into the even-tempered three-panel pages, which give away that sense of sweeping action and vital emotional moments. The jaw-dropping third instance of the splash page is the most captivating, thanks to its eruptive catalyst in the form of TNT. The explosion is a spellbinding image of fire and force, drawing the eye in and finding beauty in the carnage. 

Much of that beauty results from the coloring, rich yellows, and oranges that give a warmth that disarms. Like the fire that begs for a hand to be stuck into it, the explosion and its palette work to enthrall the reader. There’s beauty in the brutality, and it’s hard to look away from the violence even as it threatens to consume everything in the book. 

The book’s hues live in more than just the burning flames of the explosions. The rich blues and twilight pinks fill much of the backgrounds of this issue, creating a rich tapestry of pastel colors that align with the spirit of the West while creating a unique palette for the series. In moments like Enfield and Amy embracing right before they flee, the blues and pinks sell the tender moment that works to humanize the outlaws. The tones reflect a softness that reinforces that dueling dichotomy of outlaw and lawman. 

Those softer colors are broken up by the stark reminders of the carnage associated with the West, as blood stains shirts and faces at every turn. Enfield enters the issue soaked in the blood of his brothers in arms, and that shocking break in softer colors ensures that the weight of death is evident even without the outlaw’s shell-shocked face. Much like the fire, it’s a reminder that the most violent results are sometimes the most beautiful on the page.