The sun dipped low over the jagged peaks of the Beartooth Mountains, casting a golden hue across the rolling plains of Billings, Montana. As the warm light faded, a chill seeped into the air, ushering in the evening mist that clung to the ground like a whisper. Grant Harlan rode into town on his sleek black horse, Shadow, his silhouette striking against the twilight. He had long learned to keep to himself, to avoid the curious eyes of townsfolk who would whisper tales of his past—a past wrapped in the shroud of legends and the burden of a name that stirred fear and loathing.

The stories of Grant Harlan, the infamous "Rider in the Mist," had reached the ears of many. They spoke of a man who once galloped through Cheyenne, Wyoming, atop a cursed steed that brought sickness and despair to the town. It was said that he had ridden away, abandoning the very people who had feared him, and had never returned. Children whispered the tales to one another, their imaginations ignited by the terror of a man who could summon darkness. But what they didn’t know was that the horse was not cursed. It was merely a beast of burden, loyal and strong, carrying a rider who had become a ghost in his own life—a man haunted by the disdain of a town that had turned its back on him.

As Grant steered Shadow toward Dawson’s Stables, he felt the familiar weight of suspicion settle on his shoulders. He had no desire for confrontation; he merely sought a moment of solitude, a reprieve from the relentless journey that had become his life. He dismounted in front of the stable, his boots hitting the ground with a muted thud. The scent of hay and leather wrapped around him, a reminder of a world he had once known intimately.