It’s been too long since I turned your weathered pages. We’ve been through a lot, and I don’t see why I should stop writing just because things have grown busy. (In fact, it seems that would be more reason to write, but that’s neither here nor there.)
I should start with the important things:
I know, you’ve known him longer than I, seeing as I bought you both from the same general provision-er, and it seems unfair that you should find out this way, but he died because I was a foolhearty woman and got too cocky. I was trying to shoot some rapscallion off a widow’s walk when one of his cronies shot poor Bill in the heart in retaliation. I shouldn’t have ridden him into battle, (if you could call it that; we won quite handily,) but really, there was just no telling what might happen, and a clean getaway is just as important in survival as a good frontal attack.
Oh, now, I can see I’ve confused you. Let me start at the very beginning then, or at least where I left off with you.
My, I truly HAVE been neglectful – I left my last entry half-written. Well, there’s a good reason for that too, dear Diary, if you’ll let me explain why I’ve been so dreadfully forgetful toward you. Last time you and I met, my thoughts were interrupted by the noise of someone down the stairs of the cozy little shack I was telling you about. Well, turns out it was a group of rag-tag, high-faluting, hoity-toity, no-good rastabouts; just my kind of favorite persons.
Why, well, the first thing that happened when I said hello, a pretty little lady not much younger than I was pointing her knife at me! The nerve! Well, I had trusty B.B. with me, (that’s short for BlunderBless, if you recall,) and I put an end to that disagreement faster than you can flood a hare out of the brush with a bucket of milk. And after that, we was all just right as rain! They got a lot of folk with them: an Injun, Preacher, an Irishman (the girl’s brother), a Texan ranger, a SPY (or at least he says he is), and some other fella who I can’t remember his name at the time (but he’s dead now so I guess it really doesn’t matter, does it?) They were all heading my way, I so joined them for a while.
Anyway, we were all in this other girl’s house, which we didn’t know it at the time, but we decided to scout on ahead. When the injun and I got back, we found the other fellow and the Spy (his name is Beau, but you’ll hear more about him later) had set the house on fire with ghost rock, so we really had to hightail it fast before it really went up in flames. So much for spending the night in safety.
Sure enough, the smoke could be seen even after riding an hour. It attracted the bogwalkers which was good, but I was afraid we’d be spending the night fending them off, until the rest of the posse showed up, explaining there was a ghust town not far from where we were.
Figuring ghosts were better than bog ghools, we rode hard and fast, and Bill and I even got to save Mr. Fancy Beau Spy when he lost his horse. Of course, that was just the beginning of him owing me favors in return.
I’ll tell you more, Diary, but they’ve asked for another round of photographs, and who am I to say no? More soon, and sooner than last time, I promise.
All my love,