The sun beat down mercilessly overhead, its unrelenting rays turning the parched ground into an oven.

The only signs of life came from the occasional tumbleweed rolling lazily across the dusty street, a few lone birds perched upon rooftops hoping for respite, or a rare passerby hurrying to find shade somewhere under a canvas sheet hung between two buildings.

The main street was eerily silent, save for the occasional creak of a weather-warped sign above a saloon door or clink of glassware moving inside as someone tried to enjoy a cool drink out of this infernal heat wave currently blanketing the town.

The saloon was one place Jon could find some respite from the scorching heat outside.

He perched on a stool at bar, nursing a glass of whiskey as he glanced idly around the smoky room.

The air was thick with cigarette smoke and the low murmur of conversations.

A group of men sat huddled around a card table in a corner, their faces flushed—either from drink or the stifling heat—it was hard to tell which.

Jon lifted his glass and took another thirsty gulp, wiping sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand.

A sudden commotion caught Jon's attention, causing him to look up from his drink.

The saloon doors crashed open with a bang, and a dirty, scruffy-looking girl stumbled inside.

Her hair was wild and tangled, her clothing stained and torn.

She was panting heavily, as if she had run a long way, and her eyes were wide with fear as she looked around wildly for a moment before she started to run again.

Jon acted on pure instinct, his hand shooting out to grab the girl by the collar of her raggedy shirt before she could get far.

She let out a fearful yelp as he hauled her back toward him.

"Just what do you think you're doing?"

He growled, his grip on her collar tightening as she squirmed in his grasp.

A rotund barbershop owner barged into the saloon just then, looking furious.

"There she is again!" he exclaimed, glaring daggers at the girl still clutched in Jon's grip.

"Causing trouble as usual, took my goddamn wallet!"

"She's a right little pickpocket, this one," the barber continued, pointing an accusing finger in the girl's direction. "And she doesn't work alone, either. Got a whole crew of them running around town, stealing from folks whenever they can."

Jon's gaze flicked back and forth between the barber and the girl, who was still struggling to break free from his grasp.

Something about the girl's desperation caught his attention despite himself.