fiddlin’ with the truth again?
It was a long time before he shook away the invisible spike that riveted him. He walked to the edge of the porch and glanced down at the body of the outlaw, Tucker.
The dead man was reality. Everything was real. There was no illusion on that day of death. Men had died, including his son. His other son had been sent off to fetch help, but instead had turned tail and fled. That was reality, too. That was the ugliest reality of it all.