The Fogs of Crawford County

Sent from United States Post Office, Walnut Station to be delivered to Sister Marguerite, Sisters of the Holy Cross, Montreal, Quebec, Canada
 
Dearest Sister Marguerite:
 
I'm sorry it has been some time since I wrote you. You are always in my prayers, but trail life is not conducive to keep up correspondence. I'm writing from the town of Walnut, Kansas. It was the first town in some time during my travels for the Hennessy Agency with a proper Church, so it seemed an opportune time to put pen to paper.
 
My companions and I are currently on a missing persons case, and our journey began at Fort Scott where we met with family members. After some discussion, I had reason to believe the missing man had business in little town known as Osage Mission. We spent several days on horseback heading that way, and the trip so far has been rather eventful.
Kansas is wild country on the frontier and filled with wild, unruly folk. One our first day, we discovered the remains of a boy who met an untimely end, which was shocking and sad to witness—I saw a great deal of young men killed in the War, but thankfully few children. While the reasons and details of his death remain a mystery, I find some comfort in that we were able to convey his remains to a local town for proper treatment, burial, and perhaps identification.
 
A few days later of travel along what is known as the Osage Trace, we had a strange encounter with a very confused man. Alas, he had fallen in with outlaws lead by a former Confederate officer known as the Crawford Gang, and the situation quickly devolved to violence. Another fact of trail life, particularly here on the frontier, is that you can only answer shots fired with better-aimed return fire.
 
The War left deep and unhealed scars on both sides so it’s not surprising many of the survivors would ultimately find a violent end, but it’s a depressingly common outcome of life. About the only good thing that came of the incident is that my employer, the Hennessy Agency, will be receiving a bounty for the Crawford Gang with our complements.
While none of my companions were grievously injured in the skirmish, we did have some wounds that needed tending. Henry—I mentioned him before; he was one of Jack’s friends—was able to tend to everyone’s needs once we arrived in Walnut. We will be setting off again on the trail of our subject again in the morning, but at least we will be clean and well-rested before another long day’s ride.
 
I hope all is well. Give my best wishes to all who inquire about me.
 
Sincerely yours,
Marie