1877 March 2 - En route to Lincoln

Diary, my old friend, today was a ride straight out of a legend! Henry (his real name) and I, we set off toward Lincoln, cutting through the heart of New Mexico like a pair of wild stallions. The world around us was a canvas of untamed beauty, a masterpiece of nature's making.

As we rode, the earth stretched out beneath us, wide and welcoming. The sky was a vault of endless blue, watching over us like the eyes of the gods – my kind of gods, mind you, wild and free. Henry, oh he's something else – a comet streaking across the daytime sky, impossible to ignore.

We talked and laughed, our words soaring with the hawks above. It's a rare thing, to find a kindred spirit in the flow of time, especially one as unbound as Henry. His tales, a tapestry of escapades and close calls, were like music to my ears. And me? I played my part, the mysterious wanderer with a penchant for adventure and a knack for keeping secrets.

The ride was more than just a journey through the wilds; it was a dive into the unknown. With Henry by my side, it felt like we were penning a new chapter in the book of legends, our names etched in the annals of the untamed West.

As evening drew near, we made camp under a sky speckled with stars. The night came alive with the crackle of the fire and the symphony of the wilderness. In moments like these, I feel a connection to this world, a sense of belonging that's as fleeting as it is profound.

Here's to the journey, to the untold stories waiting around each bend, and to the friendships that illuminate our paths. Henry, he's more than just an outlaw; he's a force of nature, and I'm riding the storm right alongside him.

So, as I lay here under the starlit sky, I can't help but feel a surge of excitement for what's to come. Every moment with Henry is a step into the unknown, and I wouldn't have it any other way.

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