My Sweet Lonesome Dove,
It didn’t take an oracle to predict that Theodore would bring about his own demise.
Dang fool would have steered clear of that vile aberration if he had any sense – particularly if he knowed that I had that thing in my sites. But I already figured him for not having a lick o’ sense.
He did have a death wish, though, that’s fer sure and fer certain.
I bared down on that creature with my rifle hot-loaded with a full bore o’ wrath, and took it out with two clean shots. Theodore was in the gelatinous innards of the beast, and nary a shot missed him – what was left of that poor oaf was nigh unrecognizable.
I suppose I should mourn his passing, but finding poor Mary’s remains struck me more to the quick.
Losing a single foolhardy whelp over losing the entire posse seems to me an acceptable loss. I reckon some would call that savage and cold-hearted, but I find myself concerned with that not in the least.
Another notch in my belt, there is clearly room for.
Sincerely yours, Jonah “Cuchulainn” Sterling