The Good, the Bad, and the Ojete by Salome Wilde
The town of Española was eerily silent as two figures on horseback rode in, soon after sunrise. Red removed his hat and ran a dusty hand through his namesake hair, a curling thatch that matched the parched earth beneath their horses galloping hooves almost as precisely as his eyes reflected the turquoise of the vast New Mexico sky. The man who rode beside him was called Justice, a name that suited far less well than Red’s. It was bequeathed to him, as his only legacy by the woman who bore and raised him, a poor but beautiful Kentucky gal. His presumptive father had left them when the boy was only three, soon after he’d discovered her in bed with their twin farmhands. Despite or perhaps because of his beginnings, Justice had turned out equal
