After Jack’s mother’s death, Jack had found it just damn near impossible to take care of the land and animals of his inherited little ranch, so he took to bounty hunting–which was just about the only job that would take him due to his family name and history for being a bit rough around the edges.

Thankfully, for the most part, Jack seemed to enjoy his job. Keeping his teenage dream of gun handling alive while also honoring his parent’s wishes of not having his face on bounty posters.

Unfortunately, however, there were some downsides to bounty hunting, the biggest being the change of weather.

Once summer came rolling around, Jack swore he couldn’t go a week without running into a thunderstorm that left all his supplies ruined and his spirits low.

Today seemed to harbor the worst thunderstorm of the year so far. The pouring rain had grown so strong he could hardly keep his eyes open and his horse straight, the bright lighting and deep rumbling thunder making it hard to focus on wherever he was trying to go.

When he was finally able to hitch his horse and head to the closest shelter that would take him, Jack swore the wind had it out for him. Each step was heavy and shaky as he fought against the sweeping gusts of wind and rain that tried to pull him in the opposite direction.

He forced the saloon’s door open with one strong push of his hand that wasn’t currently busy grasping desperately at his hat that he’d rather die than lose.

All eyes went to him as the doors swung open loudly and he stumbled in, drenched and making puddles with every step he took into the old, worn-looking bar.

Slipping onto one of the stools, he sighed and set his hat down, running his finger through his hair to slick it back before he drummed his fingers along the oak to catch the bartender's attention. After realizing they were a bit busy with the person beside him–Jack just sat his chin on the palm of his hand, zoning out to the faint chatter of patriots and the pitter pattering of the rain against the roof.