They Came, I Cried

April 8th, 1857.

Dear Martha,

The bandits took our son today. I’m tracking them down. I’m going from town to town.

We were just going to make a deposit at the bank when they came. They needed a hostage. I told them to take me, but John Jim Clancy volunteered instead. As smart as he is, he can make some pretty stupid decisions.

The last town I stopped in was Phoenix, Arizona. They told me they were heading east, and the local newspaper dubbed them Glenn and the terrifying six.

I’m crying now. Sorry if my tears have smudged any of the letters on the parchment. I’m just thinking of what they might be doing to John. God help our son.

As I continue my pursuit, I can't help but feel a deep sense of despair and anger. These bandits, led by the infamous Glenn, have brought nothing but destruction and pain to our community. I fear for the safety of our son, John, who is now in their clutches.

The townsfolk here in Phoenix have been kind enough to offer me a horse, a gun, and some supplies for my journey. The sheriff has even provided me with a map and some advice on how to navigate the dangerous terrain ahead. I am determined to bring John home safely, no matter the cost.

The sun is setting, and I must press on. With each mile that passes, I pray that I am one step closer to finding our beloved son. The desert landscape stretches before me, vast and unforgiving. I can only hope that my determination and love for John will guide me through this perilous journey.

Martha, please know that I will not rest until our son is back in our arms. Keep your faith, my dear, and remember that our love for each other and for John is stronger than any obstacle we may face.

As I journey deeper into the desert, the nights grow colder and the days more treacherous. The day heat is unbearable, and water is scarce. I am grateful for the provisions the kind folks in Phoenix provided, but I fear they will not last me much longer.

Despite the hardships, my resolve must remain unwavering. Every step I take brings me closer to the bandits and, more importantly, to John. I will strangle these bandits with my bare hands if I have too. They had no business taking my son. Our son.

I miss the way John smells. He always smells of marshmallows and cinnamon from all the candy he eats. I must make sure to buy him candy after I rescue him.

Don’t worry dear, I’ll buy you candy too. The important thing for now is that John is rescued.

Yours,

William.

April 18th, 1857

Dear Martha,

I hope this letter finds you well.

I know it’s been ten days. I’m just now finding the time to write again.

Yesterday, I came across a small town named Red Rock. The locals were hesitant to speak of Glenn and his gang, for fear of retaliation. However, an old woman by the name of Abigail took pity on me and shared what she knew.

I might have had to tie her husband up and make her watch as I beat him, but she eventually told me everything she knew. The new information I have will help me find John.

"They were here two days ago," she whispered, her voice trembling and shrill. "They caused a ruckus, stole what they could, and left a trail of blood and death in their wake. But I overheard one of them say they were heading for Silver Creek, a town just east of here."

I thanked Abigail, untied her husband and am setting off for Silver Creek.

Yours, with a heavy heart and unyielding determination,

William

April 20th, 1857

Dear Martha,

I made it to Silver Creek. It’s a large retirement community where everyone has silver hair. Their water supply comes from a creek.

This made it easy to find the gang. The old people here were easily tricked into telling me where the gang was hiding in exchange for me spending a few minutes listening to their nonsense stories of the good old days.

I waited for Glenn to leave his hideout so he’d be away from the others, knocked him on the head and dragged him back to my motel room.

I woke him up, and after several hours of intensive interrogation, he confessed that John had escaped shortly after the gang left the bank.

I have no idea where John could have gone. I must confess, this has left me baffled.

Please write me back if you know where John is. I hope he has returned home.

The address for my motel is 3264 Silver Owl Road, Silver Creek, Nevada.

Thank you,

Love,

William.

April 23rd, 1857

Dear William,

Sorry for the delay of writing you my letter. I would have wrote you sooner with the news, but did not know where to send it. You left me with no forwarding address.

John was on his way home shortly after he escaped when he was stopped by the most beautiful woman he ever did lay his eyes on.

John knew that Glenn and his gang might be on his tail, so Jim grabbed the woman, threw her on the back of his horse, and they rode back to the house together.

John quickly explained the situation to me, and I hid the both of them in the basement.

Do not worry, separate beds were provided. The unmarried shall not sleep together in this house, not even in emergency circumstances.

The woman who John ran into and has decided to marry is his cousin, Lena. Your brothers daughter.

I am very proud of him, but he refuses to have the wedding without you present. Please come home and we will have the wedding.

Yours truly,

Love,

Martha.

April 24, 1857, rush delivered

Dear Martha,

I haven’t spoken to my brother in years. He was and most likely still is a scam artist. He stole several thousand dollars from my bank account, on account that he looks exactly like me so the bank thought he was.

Lena is the same. The rumor about her is that she’s a black widow. All of her husbands have disappeared under mysterious circumstances without a trace, and somehow she now has millions.

As stubborn as John is, I can assure you he’ll never believe us if we tell him it’s a bad idea to marry Lena. And not because they’re cousins. She will kill him and take his money as soon as they’re married

I’m heading back home at first light. Try and get rid of Lena. If she’s still there when I get back, we’ll figure it out.

Love,

William.

April 25th, 1857, rush delivered

Dear William,

The problem was taken care of.

Don’t ask me any questions. You don’t want to know.

And if the sheriff, an officer, a bounty hunter or any other law enforcement agencies or officers start asking you questions, you know nothing.

Love always,

Martha.