When the dust finally settles, and the blood stops running into the gutter, he puts his revolver back in its holster with trembling fingers.
Without a word, he turns his back on the body, on the past.
No one dares look him in the eye, so no one sees the tears that snake their way down his dust-laden cheeks and throw themselves at the baked ground.
The rules are firm. He will never be welcome in his home again. But, there are other towns; other sons to bring to justice.
Everyone watches him as he walks away.
He doesn’t look back.