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