Nathan Reynolds

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Sammy has been alone since he was about 13 when in 1875 he ran away from his abusive alcoholic father who was the sheriff of his small Texas town. After that he spent time in Houston living and working basically on the street. Until the summer of 1877 when he was caught on Galveston Island during the great storm that year, it was the largest hurricane in 16 years. It left the town flooded and in ruins. During the storm Sammy took refuge in what he would later find out was a small church. As the flood waters rose Sammy heard someone calling to him from the door of the adobe building, a hand pulled him inside the archway, the swift muddy water of the street only ankle deep there. As the man, who was unbeknownst to Sammy, the preacher of this church, turned to help others into the church Sammy saw the storm surge rising, sweeping down the street. He pushed the man out of the way forcing himself into the church, closing and locking the door. He could only hear hammering on it for a few moments before the surging water washed it away. Sheltering in the church for a day and a night he ransacked it for food, very little was to be found. He did discover an old black powder pistol that would serve him well in the next few weeks as food was scarce and water was non-existent. When boats could get back to the island a few weeks later Sammy had killed 5 men only 3 of them over supplies. He had also killed things he could not name, some looked like men others just seemed to be attracted to the death in the ruined city. The priest's journal turned out to be as helpful as the gun in the weeks following the storm as he seemed to have been a keen collector of the legends and superstitions of the area. Sammy finally left the island with the feeling that the men and other things he had dealt with were the same in most respects, a feeling that leads him to be callous to this very day. His time since that fateful summer has not been easy. The surge of men returning home from the war filled the streets with armed angry people willing to draw at the slightest provocation, which suited Sammy just fine. He was quicker than them and just as ruthless. It is at this time that Sammy seemed to notice a shadow falling over his life. It wasn't the killing or the fighting but even the people he saw ended up dead. It was easier to get lost in the bustle of Houston following the war but it was not long before Sammy was moving to San Antonio in 1880. His ghosts followed him even there. He has been moving ever since. He had to shoot his horse a dozen miles outside Brimstone but at least it made for food for a few days.

The town of Brimstone intrigues him, it seems much more active than it's location or size should be. In the years since the island Sammy has always kept his eyes and ears open so he has seen a few things others dismiss. Brimstone seems to attract those things and people. Sammy is not a bad person or at least doesn't think of himself like that, he doesn't drink, he doesn't beat women or children. He doesn't kill out of spite, just necessity. It is just very often necessary and he remembers to put a bullet in their head at the end. Sammy is an asshole because he sees all people as assholes and like in a gun fight he should always be quicker on the draw.