Sorry it's taking me a while to update, but there's been a lot going on, including getting ready for a new school year. I'll try to be quick about the next few chapters. Ciao!

Cowboy Up

The Bucket was not quite what Jordan expected. She was picturing some rinky-dink little bar filled with bikers, for some reason. When they walked in the door, she was surprised at the spaciousness of the place. A long bar was off to the left, mahogany top matching the maroon stools, dozens of glittering bottles lining the shelves. There were pool tables and darts to the right, and the back of the bar was dominated by a stage set up for a band to play, a huge horseshoe shaped disco ball dangling overhead.

"Friends In Low Places" blared from the jukebox, providing the perfect soundtrack to the atmosphere of country men and women who were scattered throughout the place. She hadn't seen so many Stetsons in one place in her life. Then again, LA and Boston weren't exactly known for their cowboys. Mike led them over to a table occupied by five people.

"This place is called 'The Bucket?'" Jordan asked Woody under her breath.

"Fits the crowd more than the escutcheon, believe me," he told her.

When they reached the table, everyone seemed to know Woody. They all greeted him happily. Jordan assumed they either didn't know the real purpose of his visit, or they knew it was okay to show him a good time in spite of it. She got her answer when she was introduced as an ME from Boston who was helping with the murder investigation. Everyone had grown up with Woody in Kewaunee, and they all seemed very happy to see him again. Mike introduced Jordan to his wife Linda, who promptly showed her some pictures of their four children. In between photos, Jordan looked up at Woody to see him glancing around the bar, looking on edge.

"Oh great," he said just loud enough for only her to hear. He took her by the elbow and turned back to the others. "We're gonna order some drinks. We'll be right back."

He led her quickly over to the bar and leaned against the counter with a disgruntled expression on his face.

"Ooo, nice look," Jordan commented. "What is with you?"

"See the blonde over by the jukebox?" he said, nodding towards the edge of the stage.

Jordan followed his gaze and had to do a double take. The woman was petite with long blonde hair and strong Irish features. If Jordan hadn't known any better, she would have sworn she was looking at Devan. It left a hollow feeling in her stomach.

"Yeah," she finally answered him.

"That would be my senior prom date. Carolyn Hogan," he said. Jordan didn't bother voicing her shock about who the woman bore a strong resemblance to; if Woody hadn't made the connection himself, she was not going to psychoanalyze it for him.

"The one who stood you up?" she asked instead.

"Yup," Woody said. His look of discomfort turned to one of loathing when a well built, golden haired man in jeans, a white button up shirt and a brown Stetson walked up behind Carolyn and playfully smacked her on the rear. "And that would be the guy she stood me up for."

"Ouch," Jordan grimaced. "Something tells me you haven't quite forgiven them."

"It was the only dance I ever bothered trying to go to, what do you think?" he said angrily.

Jordan looked at him in concern. She hated to see so much sadness in his eyes. Her instinct was to wrap her arms around him, to drive away all his pain. It took reminding herself that she was part of that pain to resist the gesture. As much as she wanted him, there had been nothing to prove that he was willing in any way to offer his heart again. She had a lot to make up for. There wasn't that much that separated her from Carolyn, in the long run. Unfortunately, that thought only increased her desire to be the one to comfort him…and then keep him.

Unable to work her way out of the limbo, Jordan remained silent as the bartender brought them their drinks and they made their way back to the table. For a while, she was treated to stories of when Woody and his friends were younger, most of them tamer than what Mike had already shared but no less embarrassing for Woody. They also heard a lot of gossip about former classmates and other general stories about people in the town. The one that seemed to please everyone most was that the head cheerleader of their class got knocked up a few months back from a drunken night with the guy who was always considered the class geek. There was still no word about what was going to happen between them, but some people were placing bets.

The alcohol mixed with the enlivening music and company worked to lift everyone's spirits. Jordan knew that this would only last for so long before the drinks loosened tongues enough to start asking questions. Sure enough, the ignorant curiosity came on the heels of a conversation about a former classmate who had suffered a nervous breakdown.

"He's living with his sister now, apparently," Linda was saying. "She's a trained nurse, so it makes it a little easier, I suppose."

"Christ, poor Peter," their friend Gavin said. "'Course, he's not the first one. Kewaunee drives us all over the edge at least once."

"Some more than others," Gavin's girlfriend elbowed him in the ribs with a smile, eliciting a laugh from the others.

"Hey Woods, how's Calvin doing?" Mike asked after the laughter died down.

Jordan's heart jumped and she glanced at Woody. His grip tightened on the beer bottle, but his face did not betray a single emotion. This was not unexpected for him. After all, he had already met people's inquiries. It was only natural for people to ask. Everyone knew how Woody had sacrificed for his brother, struggling to maintain a family that was cruelly destroyed over the years. If they only knew…

"Cal's just the same as always," Woody said through a thin smile. It was such an evasive statement, but it was all they wanted to hear.

"What's he doing now?" Linda asked.

"Independent business," Woody said before taking a drink.

This seemed to satisfy his friends. They smiled and nodded their approval, surely thinking that that was just like Cal to start something of his own. Woody picked at the label of his bottle. When did it get to the point when he had to lie to the people who had once been his best friends? When did his family become something he had to brush under the rug? He looked up at Jordan and caught her watching him carefully. It got his back up a little, and he felt a familiar wall forcing its way into place. He did not like being caught powerless by her, and the one thing he felt when it came to Cal was powerless. Don't you dare pity me, Jordan.

"How's the murder investigation going, Woodrow?" a voiced drawled from behind him.

Woody turned to see the same golden haired cowboy who had been with Carolyn earlier. He felt his muscles bristle in a long lost high school rivalry.

"We're tryin' to have a nice evening here, Jake," Mike said, his voice taking on a tone of authority. "No need to go ruining it for everyone."

"My apologies," Jake said while managing to look like it made no difference to him. "Just wanted to compliment Woodrow here on staying so close to the crime scene. Never thought you'd have the guts for something like that, the way you used to practically wet yourself during campout ghost stories."

The entire table managed to bite their tongues, though their faces said enough. Woody sat stone still, a look of deepest hate in his eyes. Jordan was worried that he might burst a blood vessel. She felt Jake turn his attention to her.

"Since you won't introduce me to this lovely lady," he said, offering Jordan his hand and giving her a charming smile. "Jake Sutton."

Jordan hesitated for a second, looking to Woody to gauge his reaction.

"Aw come on," Jake laughed. "You don't need his permission to give me your name."

"Jordan Cavanaugh," she said, though she did not take his hand.

"And you're here to help with the investigation, am I right?" he asked, then chuckled at the surprised look on her face. "News travels fast here. Like the news that the investigation has reached a dead end."

"I think it's time you were going, Jake," Mike suggested none too subtly.

"You may be sheriff now, but don't forget I whooped you silly when we were fourteen," Jake said firmly.

"The difference is, now I can arrest you for it," Mike shot back coolly.

"What do you want, Jake?" Woody demanded before he had a chance to respond to Mike.

"Just to give you some friendly advice," Jake replied. His intense brown eyes flicked back over to Jordan. "I was also hoping that maybe Miss Cavanaugh would care for a dance."

"She's not interested," Woody snapped, commanding Jake's attention again.

"Relax, Hoyt, I'd never dream of moving in on your territory," Jake said with a cocky smile. Woody fixed him with his strongest detective stare. "Your uncle wasn't the best businessman," Jake went on hastily at the look, trying to act casual about it. "He was getting too old for it. He sometimes ended up with too much cash, and people weren't happy about it. Or, people cheated him. Eric Ferrand nearly robbed him blind on a colt two months ago."

"What are you telling me this for?" Woody asked.

"To help you out," Jake said. "Despite what you think, I'm not pure evil." He turned to Jordan and nodded to her, touching his hat rim. "Nice to meet you, Jordan Cavanaugh. I hope to see you again while you're here."

With that, he walked away from the table, leaving them in an uncomfortable silence. Mike was the first to speak.

"I think it's time we call it a night," he said, standing up to put on his jacket.

Everyone followed his lead, exiting the bar on a significantly lower note than they had entered on. Woody refused to look at Jordan, and she was too ruffled by the experience to coax him into a conversation. Jake's presence had unnerved her, at the very least because it made her feel like the rope in a tug of war between him and Woody. One thought was pushing its way to the front of her mind – when did Woody start deciding whom she could and could not dance with? And what did it mean that he was protecting their special routine from an intrusion by Jake, of all people?