Down through the gorge nearing cracks and slips,
early afternoon sun hitting us between
the rocky cliffs.
The wooden wheels crack under the weight
but we´re still moving.
A bullet passes through the pines truly
coming close to cutting me if not for the wheel
hitting a groove.
We jump down from the coach
and run into the scrub and rocks.
Rifles on our backs as we scrambled shocked.
Near a barn and mining structure
our assailants hid aiming.
Like an angel pulling my shoulder into place
I propped my gun and fired a shot worth fame.
Bloody and beguiled my enemy fell at the same
Time off ran the one he hired.
Our caravan continued with tools and seeds
and dreams of a new world.
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