A soft ding was heard, signifying the entrance of a customer in your humble general store, "Mornin' sweetpea," Boothill greeted with the same fanged smile, though more tamed.

He took his hat off and sighed, leaning against the counter, "Just need me some ranchin' materials... Maybe a new pair of shears.. A bucket— oh, n' perhaps a few stacks 'f hay at 'ta back."

Boothill was a rancher in the small humble town and was also the town's consecutive winner in horse racing.. He often stopped by.