Rachelle McDaniel, owner of Northern Chicks in Milan, tells the story of her family – the real McCoys – in their fight against the Hatfields

Photo: The Hatfield clan in 1897. Public Domain.

The Hatfield-McCoy feud is one of America’s most infamous family feuds, often cited as a symbol of stubbornness and rural rivalry. However, for the descendants of the families involved, like Rachelle McDaniel, a McCoy descendant and owner of Northern Chicks in Milan, the feud is more than just a legend—it’s a deeply personal history marked by loss, resilience, and a steadfast commitment to family values.

A Feud Born from a Stolen Pig

The first actual violence in the feud was the murder of Asa McCoy as he returned from the Civil War. William Anderson “Devil Anse” Hatfield was a suspect at first but was later confirmed to have been sick at home at the time of the murder. It was widely believed that his uncle, Jim Vance, committed the murder.

McDaniel explains the feud escalated 13 years later over something seemingly small—a pig. “The Hatfield stole our hog, and it just evolved from there,” she says. In the rugged hills of Kentucky and West Virginia during the late 1800s, a pig wasn’t just livestock but a lifeline. “It was food for the winter, food for a lot of people,” McDaniel noted. For the McCoys, the theft was not just a violation of property but a direct threat to their survival and dignity.

The dispute escalated when Randolph “Ole Ran’l” McCoy, one of the McCoy patriarchs, spotted his pig in a Hatfield pen. “He was walking and saw the pig in their fenced-in area and said, ‘That’s my pig.’ They denied it and denied it, and that’s when the feud began,” McDaniel recounted. It was not just about a pig but about respect, honor, and the deep-seated mistrust between the families that only grew with each encounter.

A Clash of Values and Cultures

Rachelle paints the McCoys as a family of conservative, religious individuals trying to live a peaceful life amidst constant provocation. “The McCoys were a little bit more conservative, religious. Their side was more Confederate, a little more loose, wild,” she explained. This cultural divide only fueled the animosity between the families, making reconciliation nearly impossible.

The Hatfields were considerably more affluent and politically connected compared to the McCoys. Anse Hatfield’s successful timber business provided his family with substantial wealth, while the McCoys lived a more modest, lower-middle-class lifestyle. Randolph McCoy owned a 300-acre farm, but their economic standing paled in comparison to the Hatfields.

The McCoys were staunch Baptists, clinging tightly to their faith even as their world was upended. “We were Baptist, but it was like really old school Baptist. It was a very strong faith,” McDaniel said, highlighting how their religious beliefs influenced their actions—or inactions—in the feud. The Hatfields, by contrast, lived by different rules, and according to McDaniel, this created an unbridgeable chasm between the two clans.

Love and Betrayal

Despite the bitter rivalry, love still found a way to complicate matters. A McCoy daughter fell in love with a Hatfield, leading to further turmoil. “She snuck around with a Hatfield, got pregnant, and was kicked out of the house,” McDaniel says. This Romeo and Juliet-like subplot only intensified the hatred.

Bloodshed and Retaliation

As tensions escalated, the feud turned violent, claiming lives on both sides. McDaniel recounted one of the more brutal episodes: “They killed three of our boys. They tied them up to a tree and shot them.” This was not a one-time event but part of a cycle of retaliation that kept the feud alive for decades. The McCoys, though more reserved, felt compelled to fight back, often clashing with the Hatfields in violent encounters that stained their histories with blood.

The Hatfield-McCoy feud reached a violent climax during the infamous 1888 New Year’s Night Massacre. Led by Cap and Vance Hatfield, a group of Hatfields surrounded the McCoy cabin under the cover of darkness, opening fire on the sleeping family. Startled awake, the McCoys scrambled to defend themselves, returning fire as bullets tore through their home. In a brutal attempt to force them out, the Hatfields set the cabin ablaze.

Desperate to survive, the McCoys tried to flee through any exit they could find. Randolph McCoy managed to escape and hide in the pig pen while most of his children fled into the surrounding woods. Two of Randolph’s children, Calvin and Alifair, were shot and killed near the family well as they tried to escape. Randolph’s wife, Sarah, was caught, beaten, and narrowly escaped death at the hands of Vance and Johnse Hatfield.

With their home engulfed in flames, the remaining McCoys retreated further into the wilderness. Struggling against the harsh winter conditions, the family endured frostbite and other injuries. The relentless violence forced them to abandon their home and relocate to Pikeville, seeking refuge from the Hatfield raiding parties that continued to terrorize the region.

Between 1880 and 1891, more than a dozen were killed from both families. At one point, the governors of West Virginia and Kentucky even threatened to have their militias invade each other’s states. Nine Hatfields were imprisoned, seven for life. One was executed by hanging.

“We were the religious type, wanting to settle things peacefully, but they [the Hatfields] were all about guns blazing,” McDaniel explained. This disparity in approaches only deepened the wounds, making peace seem like a distant, unattainable goal.

The Feud’s Legacy and the Struggle for Peace

The Hatfield-McCoy feud didn’t just end overnight; it simmered for generations. It wasn’t until 2003 that members of both families, including McDaniel’s cousins Ron and Bo McCoy, officially signed a document declaring the feud over. “It went on for more than a century,” she reflected. “But in 2003, they signed the document, and it was officially done.”

Today, remnants of the feud linger in the landscape of Appalachia, where the graves of Hatfields and McCoys lie side by side, and the legacy of conflict still colors local folklore. For McDaniel and her family, the story reminds them of how deeply divided communities can become—and how difficult it is to bridge the gap once blood has been spilled.

Reflections on Faith and Forgiveness

Reflecting on her family’s past, McDaniel admired her ancestors’ resolve and ability to maintain their faith in the face of adversity. “They were such kind, good, faithful people,” she said, contrasting the McCoys’ attempts at peaceful resolution with the Hatfields’ more confrontational approach. “Imagine trying to stay faithful and do the right thing when your food’s being stolen, and your family’s under threat. It’s a testament to their character.”

The Hatfield-McCoy feud remains a symbol of the American spirit—stubborn, resilient, and fiercely loyal. But for the McCoys, it’s also a story of endurance, of holding on to faith and family in a world that often seemed intent on tearing them apart. As McDaniel put it, “It was about trying to live a moral life when you’re attacked by immoral people.” For the McCoys, that fight didn’t just end with the signing of a truce—it’s a legacy that lives on, shaped by history and remembered by those who carry the name.