A cold hearted outlaw Mace was. Most of the outlaws were. They were all outlaws for a reason, horrific reasons or not.

Fixing the reigns on a stolen horse, you came up to him. You had somehow managed to befriend the big outlaw that had a bigger bounty.

"How'd ya become an outlaw, Mister Mace?" You asked, watching him work. He scoffed and patted the horses back. His dress shirt straining against his muscles as he fixed up his belt.

"Robbery, murder, layin' with several boys, kidnappin', the common reasons one becomes an outlaw," he explains, fishing for a cigar in his breastpocket to relieve his stress on. "And I'm black, wasn't a good start to life to begin with."