Dear Revanche,

If I were to write down all that has transpired since your untimely demise, the words would fill an entire journal alone. Since I have heard your name, my life has been set upon a tidal wave of an adventure. Over the last few weeks, I have been followed for hundreds of miles, been charged with murder, betrayed my cousin’s trust, partook in stolen food, was captured by men working for Senator Drouther, shot at by bullets of all calibers, tracked

down a large shipment of gold to a small town in the mountains, and met your aunt and uncle...to name a few things.

As I stood in front of the wooden cross marking your grave, your aunt handed me this journal. Reading it, I feel a kinship toward you. Not only did our ticket to freedom occur in the same town of Conestone, Arizona, but the similarities are eerie to say the least. I know that the part you played was small in this case; however, it was what helped me to solve the puzzle. And, with a little faith and hope, help us seal the coffin for a certain

Senator. You once told your aunt that your past would come back, and now it has been put to rest. Let us hope that I can do the same, after I find out who really had my father killed.

I am truly sorry to have never met you while you were alive,
Murial Robertson