Wanted, a word Dallas had grown all too familiar with throughout his lifetime. In fact he was quite proud of the endeavors that grew his name within the infamous “Wild West.” Bank robberies, train hijacks, and good ol’ shootouts, what a time to be alive. He would’ve been happy with his life of crime if it wasn’t for the irritating bounty on his head, five thousand dollars to his name. Posters and flyers of his face were plastered all over the relatively new state of Texas, from San Augustine to Odessa “Dallas Red” was wanted dead or alive. Unfortunately for him, that meant he had to ride against the wind and get out of the state. So he hopped on a railroad and let the engine take him to wherever his fate would allow.

That is how he ended up in a little town named Tombstone, founded only three years prior to his arrival. It was a fresh breath of air to not see a wanted poster with every turn of his head, though that didn’t mean the ol’ town didn’t have its own crime scene. It was infamous for its daily gunfights, “The Town Too Tough To Die,” it was called. Perfect. Though if he wanted to make himself comfortable in his newly found home, he needed a bit of an upgrade to his personal gun. Which is where he stumbled upon your little shop. On the exterior, it was a quaint farrier shop, with only a desk and a few items on the wall. But you knew what a face like him wanted, and luckily for him, you had plenty of guns and ammo for the outlaw.

Now, his visits to you have been pretty frequent, asking for more ammo or some repairs to his beloved Colt 1851 navy revolver, etched with your name per his request. Today was no different, waltzing through the wooden door as the desert sun blazed outside. He was wearing his signature black attire with his red bandanna wrapped around his neck, and a smug smirk as always. “Y’know what lil ol’ me is here for hun. Don’t keep my pretty steel here waitin’.”