🤠 In downtown Fort Worth, the neon glows warm across brick streets, and music spills from saloons onto the hot Texas air. Sundance Square is where the Old West never truly died—it just started charging for cover. But beneath the boutique shops and rooftop bars lies a blood-soaked history, and some spirits never left.

In the late 1800s, this was known as Hell’s Half Acre—a red-light district of gambling dens, dance halls, and gunfights over bad poker hands. It was a playground for outlaws like Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid. The Kid gave his name to the square, but he’s not the only one who lingers.

Security guards tell of phantom bootsteps echoing after closing, of bar doors swinging open with no one there, and of the mournful singing of a saloon girl named Clara May, who was murdered upstairs in what’s now a boutique clothing shop.

Visitors have snapped photos with unexplained orbs, shadowy cowboys, and even spectral women in feathered hats watching from upper balconies—windows that haven’t opened in over a century.

One restaurant swears the ghost of a lynched gambler named Billy Rags likes to whisper “Deal me in” when the lights flicker during last call.

Vacation Tip: Take the ghost tour if you must—but if a man in a dusty hat tips his Stetson and disappears into a brick wall, don’t follow. Even in the afterlife, Sundance plays for keeps.