In the days of the Old West, a stranger came into town wearing all black and looking like he came from the fiery depths of hell. His blackened clothes smelled of brimstone, and eyes would stare into your soul.
Stories of his misdeeds spread like a West Texas grass fire. The stranger had no fear. Everyone who stood in his way felt the heat from his gun or the hardness of his fists. The smart ones grabbed their families and skipped town. Others just hid in their homes and stores hoping he would pass.
The stranger’s name was burned on every wanted poster in the west.
It didn’t take long for the law to get wind of his terror. A band of brave lawmen met Slim out in the cotton fields where he was hiding out after robbing the town’s general goods store. They got the jump on him and ended the scourge.
… But that’s not the end of this story. This is just the beginning of the legend of Slim.
Some say when he fell, he passed through the ground and landed on Hell’s floor. No one could find the body. Only Slim’s ragged, black hat remained.
The legend says that Slim made a deal with death. He could return to this Earth to continue his reign of terror, but he had to give up his soul. He agreed and returned to curse the land again with a blackened heart filled with revenge.
The townspeople say that he’s returning to all the places that he’s robbed before looking for something… anything that he can use to bargain for his soul.
Good sir or madam, I implore you. It seems that Slim has been seen riding his dead horse towards our small town of Mesquite. I fear for your safety. Please don’t let him add you to his list of dead men.