Robledo MountainChapter 5
I was two days out from Trujillo Gulch and had just saddled up for the days ride, when the faint sounds of gun shots came from the east. Without thinking, I mounted up and rode towards the sound of the gunfire. I was two miles west of the Camino Real, and figured that was where the gun fire was coming from. As I rode, I realized what I’d done, and debated with myself whether this was really the smartest course of action. I may be a defender, but was I to be everyone’s defender? The thought...