Author's Notes: Hullo everybody! As promised, here is the sequel to The Porcelain Cowgirl, 'The Black Star.' In case you haven't read the previous story yet and you want to, just click on my profile and you can find it there. :)

I will try to manage my time better, but you know me, I'm a big ball of fail when it comes to that kind of thing. I'm attempting to be at least five chapters ahead. I think this is going to be pretty much the same length of Porcelain Cowgirl, but depending how it goes it might be longer or shorter, I dunno. Also, I have been going back and forth between a third story. I'm not exactly sure I will go through with that yet, what with my schedule being insane this year, but I'll be thinking about it. Message me about anything you'd like to see from future stories of mine, and as always, please review so as to help me suck less. :)

By the way, there isn't the same pattern of jumping around time in this story, as far as I'm planning so far. I kind of wanted to incorporate it, but I want this story to be able to stand on its own as well, so I eventually opted out of it. Everything you're reading is in the present.

Thank you so much!

Love your friend,

hpmoofrog, Heather.

It's a funny thing, love.

It drives people together to form unity and undying bonds that last forever. It's what keeps people moving, and it is always within us, even if we have lost everything. It's what changes a heart.

He knew her health was depleting by the minute. He would have given anything to take away the pain of the memories, but there was no way he could do so. Even as it damaged her mental health, her physical health was affected by that simple brown cowboy hat. This is not to say that she was going insane or turning suicidal, but that the ache of thinking all of her loved ones were gone was taking a toll on the Porcelain Cowgirl. All the buried emotions were finally catching up with her.

And Woody Pride had no clue how to help her.

It had been only two days since their reuniting. White Oaks was a considerable amount of distance from the city Bo had almost spent the rest of her life. They stopped every once and awhile, but as Bo became more and more exhausted, the two were forced to make rest stops more often.

That night they stopped at an inn in a small town to spend the night. The sheriff knelt down beside the bed where Bo rested. He held onto her delicate hand, which was even more cold than usual. She weakly opened her eyes and turned her head to look at her cowboy. Bo smiled, but then let it drop when she saw his eyes. They were swimming with worry, outlined by deep circles due to a lack of sleep.

"Woody, do you remember that saloon? It's next door," she said frailly.

He nodded.

"I want you to go there, and have a good time." Bo anticipated his reaction.

Woody's eyes grew big. "But-"

"I know you're worried about me, and that's exactly why you need a break. The Innkeeper's wife offered to help with anything. If anything I think I'll be fast asleep soon," she cut in, placing her other hand on his.

"I-I... What if something happens and she can't come soon enough?" Woody asked.

"Honestly now Woody, you're being impossible. I'll be fine. I know you feel like you haven't protected me enough, but I'm a big girl. It's just a little cold," Bo lied. She knew very well it was more than that.

Woody was silent, trying to think of some excuse not to leave her side. But there was something in her words, "Please go, for my sake," that compelled him to grab his coat.

"I love you. I'll be back as soon as I can," he told her sweetly and then kissed her forehead.

The glitzy nature of the saloon was played up from the scantily dressed showgirls to the array of choices from which to get drunk. Woody wasn't quite used to the world's standard of a saloon, because the old Davis saloon had been so much more than that. Believe it or not it was mostly a wholesome place where friends came together to discuss anything from Politics to the weather. Of course, the Saloon was always a front anyway to disguise the secret Star Command base hidden beneath it, but that wasn't the point.

Woody missed everyone. He wondered how the Davis' were faring with their new life. Maybe they would meet up again?

Mostly men sat clustered at tables playing cards or watching the showgirls. They had large cigars creating an uncomfortable cloud of smoke that seemed to linger right above their eyes.

Woody made his way uneasily to a vacant stool at the bar. This wasn't his idea of having a good time. He scanned the room again, accidentally crossing eyes some of the shadier characters near the corner who'd been eyeing him ever since he entered the saloon.

"What can I do ya for stranger?" the bartender asked, forcing him to tear his eyes away.

"N-nothing, I'm fine," Woody responded. He wanted to keep a clear head tonight.

"That's mighty odd to come to a bar and not want anythin' to drink. Where you come from?"

"Far from here. I'm just trying to get home..." Woody responded absently. He peered over his shoulder again to peek at the people in the corner. There couldn't have been more than eight of them. They made all the other rugged people in the saloon look like children.

"Hey, you don't wanna get mixed up with those guys," the bartender said snapping him back reality again. "Stop goggling at em."

"Who are they?" Woody asked, trying to shake off the feeling they were still watching him.

"Strangers, like yourself. They arrived in town yesterday. They spend most of their time here. S'pose they're waiting for her..." the bartender responded casually drying off a cup with his apron.

Woody felt his blood turn cold. "Her?"

Bo shivered. She heard the door open and the familiar click of cowboy boots cross the wood floor. "That wasn't long at all. What happened to having a good time?"

There was no response. She weakly propped herself up. But to her surprise, it wasn't Woody at all. A man with scruffy facial hair and dirty clothes stained with dark maroon spots stood in front of her holding a scarf. He smiled a disgusting smile, full of yellow slimy teeth with several missing.

The bartender reached under the counter and clumsily produced a poster. It was a wanted sign. "They call her the Porcelain Cowgirl. Dunno what she done or where she's headed, but $50,000 with her capture alive is pretty good motivation for those bums. Strangest thing though is that all of these posters appeared here overnight. Nobody knows who wants the poor gal so bad. There's just a drop off point. No contact info or anythin. It's all a bit fishy if ya ask me."

Woody swallowed hard. He gripped the poster with Bo's face plastered on it. "Can I keep this?"

"I guess so. You thinkin of going after the reward too?"

But Woody was already on his feet by the time the bartender finished his question. He started walking towards the door, but inevitably the lowlifes from the corner shoved into him, blocking his only exit.

"Leaving so soon?" the leader of the outfit asked with a guttural voice.

Woody avoided eye contact. He didn't say anything.

The leader snatched the poster from his hand and looked at it. "You know somethin bout this?" he asked pointing a stubby finger at the paper.

Woody kept his silence. He only stared at the door as they circled him.

One of the goons suddenly lifted him up by his yellow cotton shirt and slammed him to the wall. Woody grimaced.

"Answer the question," the giant man said with his disgusting breath smelling like whiskey.

"I don't know," Woody said as calmly as he could muster.

"LIAR!" the big one bellowed. He pounded Woody into the wall again. By now the rest of the saloon had noticed the commotion near the door. The showgirls tried to keep in step but they couldn't help staring at the strangers.

The one holding him pulled out his gun and pointed it at the sheriff's head. They weren't the patient type.

"Ok, listen, I knew her once. She blew me off. She lives in a city miles away from here. I was thinking about getting the reward myself..." Woody lied trying to make it sound as convincing as possible.

He was finally released from the grasp of giant hands, but the gun remained at his head.

"We heard rumors she was travelling somewhere," the big one said. He turned over his shoulder to look at the leader. "Should we... get rid of the competition?"

The leader stepped forward. He studied Woody intensely. "I don't think we'll have any trouble with him, wouldn't you agree?"

The group's laughter was like rusty nails being rubbed together.

"Go get Stanley. He's still searchin' the Inn. In the meantime, we'll put this wise guy to sleep for the night." The big one put away his gun and cracked his knuckles.

Suddenly a woman's scream pierced the night.