11/6: I been right busy since the last time I found the time to write here! My life dun took a decisively positive turn in the last few months. I owe Silas so much gratitude for believin' in me and helping me to get back into my right mind and on my feet after the incident with that Waterhouse peckerwood. Mort helped me out too, especially emotionally, but I been too busy to think about them old days with that ole tumbleweed. I am so tired of his constant distence and claims of affecshon. I reckon I'm makin' my own way in the world now-a-days. I'm a-makin' more money than I ever have and I've got some pretty rich clientelle. I was even able to aford a new dress and right fancy hair dye. At first I didn't think I would be suited to the life of a soiled dove, but it seems to beat the bar wench jobs thus far.

7/14: I hate ta admit it, but Mort was very right about "Mr. Waterhouse". I ain't feelin' up ta writin' about what happened yet neither.

6/10: Mort is begining to stir up some ill feelin's in me. He's always acted like a second father to me, but since I been seein' more and more of Mister Waterhouse, Mort's been more ornery than a desert rattler. I thought Mort was different than all them other horny bar patrons but I guess not. I ain't gonna live with some jealous old codger that is only helpin' me because he wants to sleep with me. Silas has offered me a room above the Lantern and I'm takin' 'im up on that offer.

6/6: Found out the strange feller's name is General Ambrose T. Waterhouse. The barkeep didn't know too much about 'im, 'cept for his name and that he's really quiet. Yester-day at the Lantern he showed up again and asked for me to wait on him special. I was nervous at first, but we got to talkin', and he's a gracious gentilman, unlike the regulars who usually jus' sit around slack-jawwed with a hard-on in their britches.

6/3: Been workin' at the Lantern for the past 3 days all-ready. I like it all-right. Only strange thing is this pale feller dressed in lavish black velvet and gold that comes in sometimes. He's been here twice already since I started workin' here. He sits at the end of the bar for hours but only drinks one or two shots the whole time. I feel strange when he looks at me, but it ain't really a bad feeling.

5/27: Mort was able to help me find a job at this new risqué tavern called The Green Lantern. Normally I wouldn't wanna work in such a lowbrow setting, but I reckon beggars can't be choosers. The owner, man by the name of Silas Green, seems a right proper gentilman, so I reckon I ain't got much to worry for.

5/10: Goin' to see Mort. I don't want him to see me like this, but he deserves to know where I been. I'm tired of livin' on the street. I ain't tellin' 'im that part though.

5/7: I thought if I left Picon's Peak I could find another job an' take care of myself again. Turns out, not only don't nobody want a one-eyed woman in their midst, but the doc says my eye is in bad shape. I cut my hair off and sold it to a wig maker for some cheap vittles and lodging. I done fell pretty low this time. I ain't gonna ask for no one's help. All's I got left is this journal, the clothes on my back, and the heart-shaped eyepatch from Mort. I ain't gonna wear that pretty thing 'til my eye is better though.

4/12: I'm living with my sister in Picon's Peak right now, but I dunno how much longer I can stand it here. I can tell I ain't welcome. Sumtimes bein' the black sheep of the family has it's downside.

4/5: The Tumbler got holed up. I guess my injuries are pretty obvious now. Seems like I can't avoid them outlaws. I dunno who's gunna hire a one-eyed bar wench... I dunno what I'm gunna do now.

2/24: I been a saloon gal for as long as I can remember. Even as a girl, I reckon I was embarrassing my ma and pa with singin' and a' dancin'. I never cared much for my parent's high society crowd, so as soon as I was old enuff I took off to persue my real passhon; dancin' an' showboatin'. The Calamity Canteen, the place I've worked since I was 14, got held up by some outlaws 'bout a month ago. Now I work at the Dusty Tumbler in Holden City. I love what I do, but I just wish fellers would realize I ain't no whore, and that I don't take kindly to a'hootin' and a'hollerin', no matter how short my skirt is.