My esteemed Caitlyn Elizabeth Stirge,

This letter will most surely find ye, and the faithless curs yer running with.

I’ll have ye know ye’ve gone and done it. And it’s a lengthy list of what ye have done, mind ye. Murder. Treachery. Thieving. Running around with ruffians. All the spilt blood, all the heinous crimes against the powers above and yer fellow man go on like a housemaid’s daily chores.

And I would have forgiven it all. Because ye’re blood. Blood does cover a multitude of transgressions, Caitlyn.

But ye broke faith with and betrayed yer own, and broke yer Brother’s heart. Which is damn unforgivable.

Well I reckon I’ve done all I can to reason with ye, and bring this whole matter to a satisfactory and peaceable end. For my efforts a score of innocent people from that train are dead, murdered in cold blood. Thirteen passengers, a posse of seven lawmen. The remains of the Desert Rose Line burnin in a ravine, untold antiquities destroyed. All to satisfy yer whimsy.

Now I have tried being reasonable, and I didn’t much like it.

I’m coming for ye, Caitlyn. No matter how far or long ye run, the Law is coming for ye. Ye called down the Thunder, and it’s a coming. I’m coming for ye, and I’m bringing all the wrath of Hell with me when I do.

May the Powers have mercy on yer soul.

Sincerely, Marshall Jonah “Cuchulainn” Hill