Often a writer conjures up a vision and weaves it into intriguing tale. These the truly gifted artists pay homage to the mundane by transforming it into magic. On rare occasion, the story picks a writer, insisting they give shape and form to a tale beyond the scope of imagination. In my case, the story chose me. I love history and spend many hours poking around the past. I stumbled across a poem scratched on the walls of a jail cell from 1919. The words of a young man, found hung in his jail cell, haunted me. This poem begins my story. I felt compelled to take others on my journey of discovery as I tried to unravel the meaning behind his words. Many of the incidents in the story are true, but for the most part it is purely fiction designed to entertain. I hope you enjoy the tale as much as I enjoyed writing it.

​I want to take a second to say THANK YOU to all of you who have followed,  liked, commented, or pre-ordered Dust of Lies . It brings me joy to be able to share the product of my passion with all of you. I am grateful to have the support of people like you!

Kay, a reporter for the Barber Gazette, stood outside in the blistering heat, her nose scorched red by the blazing sun. Rivulets of perspiration trickled down her cheeks, but nothing could keep her from witnessing Skeeter’s old bulldozer crush the tar out of the abandoned county jail, not even the burning assault of a sultry Arkansas afternoon. She needed the story for the local paper.
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Once the building became a pile of rubble, she discovered words on a block of plaster, a haunting poem, written by a young man who died in his cell. His cry from the grave led her on a journey to find the truth about his family and rumored Confederate treasure. The quest, which led her from Arkansas to Texas and back through history, lay covered by the Dust of Lies. ​