Once again, we were ambushed.
I think last time we spoke, in complete self defense, my and my trail mates had just fought off some Rebs. Some of the others claimed some war booty, which almost got us in trouble when a whole battalion of Confederate soldiers rode down on us demanding to know what happened, and the located a confederate saber in the cook wagon. Now I’m not saying who put it there, but let’s just say it wasn’t Ortega, and it wasn’t me.
Somehow the unnamed perpetrator talked his way out of it, and by then Sutter was right eager to get out of town, as were the rest of us.
To save money on some kind of fancy toll, Sutter decided to take us through some demon infested country. That place gave me nightmares the kind of which I won’t speak of.
Then once again, we were ambushed. This time it was a bunch of Indians, and a swarm of bats. They weren’t from Clarissa’s tribe, so even though I tried to keep one alive for questioning, it wasn’t any use. We think this might be more of Mad Dog’s work again. If only there were some way to track him down.
Anyway, I gotta run. We’re about to head out on the trail again.
Give my love to Mom, and leave out all the important bits.