"Here Amanda, show us your stuff," hollered Grandpa Wally as he quickly moved away from the shot field and headed back to where Amanda was standing.

Amanda picked up the shotgun and ignoring the stand, started shooting. She had not shot a gun in almost a year. The only time she was able to practice was when she spent about two weeks every summer with her grandfather on his ranch. But it was quickly obvious that Amanda was a very good shot. Soon the trap ran out of clay pigeons.

Grandpa Wally went back out into the field and reloaded. It was Michael's turn. He was obviously not as good a shot as Amanda, but he did manage to hit two of the clay disks.

Thibodeaux joined them. He was carrying a cup of coffee.

"Hey, do you want to shoot?" asked Grandpa Wally. "Let me show you how to use this shotgun," said Grandpa Wally.

Thibodeaux put down his coffee, took the shotgun, and after listening carefully to Grandpa Wally's instructions, he fired the gun and fell to the ground.

"What was that?" asked Thibodeaux.

"You need to brace for the recoil," said Grandpa Wally taking the shotgun from Thibodeaux to finish shooting the round. "Why don't you wait until we are done with the skeet and try target shooting? Learn one thing at a time."

"Okay," said Thibodeaux sitting down on a stump to finish his coffee. "Will the handgun knock me down?"

"I will stand right behind you the first few times you shoot, until you get used to the recoil," said Michael.

Amanda, Grandpa Wally, and Michael returned to shooting skeet. They each got about three more rounds before they were completely out of clay pigeons. It was obvious that Amanda was the best shot in the bunch.

"Amanda was the best rattlesnake shooter I ever had on my ranch. And those critters can move around," said Grandpa Wally.

"Hey, you really ought to work on this and maybe go to the Olympics," said Michael.

"Your wouldn't say that if you met my mother," said Amanda.

"My girl is right. I spent two weeks with Amanda after the bombings and Amanda's Mom is very nice, but she is not the kind of gal to let her daughter touch a gun. She is way too Greenwich for that," said Thibodeaux.

"I miss her so much, and I'm not your girl," said Amanda.

"But we're working on it, aren't we?" asked Thibodeaux.

Amanda had to laugh. She tried so hard to be stern with Thibodeaux, but he was so nice and so funny, it wasn't easy. She really did like him, she just didn't want to have a messy, gooey love thing going like some of her friends had back in Greenwich. She was definitely not the kind of girl to write some guy's name inside a heart on her notebook and right now, she did not even own a notebook.

"Melanie is not here so you are going to target practice, aren't you?" asked Grandpa Wally. "I don't ever want you to have to use a handgun, but I rest a lot easier knowing that you know how."

"Sure," said Amanda picking up her Grandfather's handgun and aiming at the target. Amanda put a hole in the middle of the target. She then shot again and her next shot was within an inch of the first one. Amanda finished shooting the fourteen rounds that were in her grandfather's semi-automatic handgun. All of her shots clustered around the center of the target. When she finished shooting, Amanda walked out to the target and changed the paper Michael then started shooting. He had a carry permit and had taken lessons at a firing range, so he was a fairly good shot, but not as good as Amanda.

Next it was Thibodeaux's turn with the pistol. Everyone tried to help him, giving him lots of advice, some of it contradictory. Michael then got behind Thibodeaux and told him to aim and squeeze the trigger gently. Thibodeaux did and succeeded in firing the fourteen rounds in the pistol, but did not hit the target unless Michael was holding his hands to help him aim. But he was able to fire the gun and managed to stay standing, not bad for a first day at the range.

They were out of ammunition so Grandpa Wally told Amanda and Thibodeaux to go back to the house while he and Michael cleaned up the field. "We'll be a while because we need to pick up all those clay disks so they don't get caught in Gaby's tractor mower."

Thibodeaux stopped and looked at Grandpa Wally and said, "You're Cindy's grandfather too, aren't you?"

"I sure am. She's my son Mark's daughter. Mark is still in Iraq, but he is supposed to be home in time for the trial and Cindy and her Mom will be back from China at the same time," said Grandpa Wally.

"Did you ever try to teach Cindy or Peter to shoot?" asked Thibodeaux.

"Yes, but they are a little young and Cindy doesn't like the ranch or guns. And she certainly doesn't like rattlesnakes," said Grandpa Wally.

"Cindy is never going to learn to shoot. She gets a manicure twice a week," said Amanda.

"Well that settles that," said Thibodeaux.

Amanda and Thibodeaux walked back to the house to find DJ sitting in the kitchen talking on a burn phone. Miss Gaby had obviously lent him a bag because next to him was a carry tote made of a flowery material. But hey, fugitives can't be picky.

Solange was preparing breakfast so Amanda pitched in to help her cook bacon, eggs, and toast. Trying to emulate Solange was exhausting.

Grandpa Wally and Michael had just come back into the kitchen when Mrs. Lambert arrived. Bernadette Lambert had a helmet of bouffant blonde hair and was dressed in a black pant suit embellished with appliqued gold giraffes. She was also wearing gold high heeled sandals, an odd choice for early March in Louisiana. Amanda had never seen anyone quite like her and she suspected that Mrs. Lambert bought her clothes locally.

Miss Gaby hugged her friend and said, "Thanks Bernie. You're the best. "

"Who would ever have thought that someone living in Natchitoches would have anything to do with bringing those terrorists to justice. Just tell me what I can do to help," said Mrs. Lambert.

"You're doing it," said Miss Gaby.

Mrs. Lambert had brought a box of school books and two Federal Express packages, a small package from Mr. Trudeau, and a large box from Miss Gaby's friend Arnie.

Miss Gaby handed the Fed Ex package from Mr. Trudeau to DJ and then opened the box from Arnie. Inside were five tee shirts and ball caps that said, UT Summer Arts Program.

DJ opened his box and took out more prepaid Visa cards and some new ID's. Mr. Trudeau had sent Michael a forged Texas driver's license. Amanda did not want to think about how he had done that. He sent Austin school ID's for the kids. Amanda's and Peter's last name was now James, Thibodeaux's new name was Thibodeaux Bonier, and Solange and Michael's cards had the last name of Johnson.

"Hmm, are Solange and Michael supposed to be brother and sister or husband and wife?" asked DJ.

"That will be brother and sister, thank you very much," said Miss Gaby with a stern look at Solange "Don't look at me," said Solange with a laugh. "I've been taken since first grade. So there won't be any carrying on from me."

Michael did not say anything but he definitely did not look happy to hear Solange say she was "taken."

Mrs. Lambert gave Solange a stern look. "I don't like to hear any young woman saying she is "taken."

"That's not what I mean. I just meant I have had a boyfriend since I was six. But don't worry, he's always respectful," said Solange.

"He sure is," said Thibodeaux.

Solange gave Thibodeaux a stern look and said, "Now don't you get started on that again."

Thibodeaux just shrugged.

Amanda looked at Thibodeaux and Solange and decided that whatever Thibodeaux meant by that last remark, she was going to make him tell and she could tell Michael was curious too.

Mrs. Lambert sat down at the kitchen table with Miss Gaby and started going through the curriculum's for everyone. She had brought books and study guides for the sixth, eighth, and twelfth grades.

"Michael, you are a college graduate, aren't you?" asked Miss Gaby.

"Yes, I graduated last year," said Michael.

"So why don't you sit down at the table with Miss Bernie and me and go over the curriculums. Once we are in Los Angeles, I am going to help as much as I can to be sure that these kids don't fall behind, but I have a book deadline and I'm already on my first extension so I have to deliver my manuscript by the first of May. It would really help if you would tutor the kids," said Miss Gaby.

Michael had a strained look on his face. Amanda could tell that he really did not want to act as their tutor-bodyguard yes, school teacher, not so much. But Michael said, "Whatever I can do to help."

Amanda snickered. Being a fugitive seemed to bring out the best behavior in everyone.

After Mrs. Lambert finished explaining the curriculum to Michael, she left with lots of hugs and lots of well wishes for a safe trip.

They were leaving early the next morning and since Grandpa Wally did not want to stay gone too long from his ranch just in case he was being watched, he decided to go ahead and return to Dallas for the last day of the horse show and then drive back to West Texas. Hopefully, no one would have noticed that he was gone.

Grandpa Wally went to his truck and got a gun case and some fishing tackle which he brought back into the house. He then packed up one of his shotguns, a pistol, and some ammunition in the case and gave it, and the key, to Amanda saying, "You need to hide this in the motorhome. Put this fishing tackle on top of it. And when you arrive in Los Angeles, put the guns somewhere safe."

Then after a lot of hugs and tears on the part of Amanda and Peter, Grandpa Wally and DJ left.

The rest of the day was spent getting ready to travel to Los Angeles. Miss Gaby made one more trip to town to pick up more food to stock the motorhome.

Amanda sat down at the dining room table by herself and thought about the trip they were about to take. Miss Gaby had put some old atlases out and Amanda started flipping through them. Someone had drawn a red line from Natchitoches to Dallas, but from then on there was nothing. Amanda wondered if they were going to take the interstate or travel on an alternative route. There was a scratch pad next to the atlas and someone had made a note that there were about 1800 miles between Natchitoches and Los Angeles and that it would take about four days to make the trip.

Thibodeaux walked into the dining room and stood there looking over Amanda's shoulder at the Atlas. Amanda turned around and grabbed his arm and pushed him into a chair. They were alone.

"What did you mean when you said that Armand sure is respectful," asked Amanda.

"If I tell you, Solange will be mad at me," replied Thibodeaux.

Amanda gave Thibodeaux her sternest look, "We are not supposed to have secrets. You are part of my posse..."

"It's not that," replied Thibodeaux.

"Well what is it?" asked Amanda. "You know I won't let it go until you tell me."

"OK! OK! But don't tell Solange. I've known Armand all my life. I saw him every day when I lived in New Orleans and after I moved to New York, Solange brought him to visit," said Thibodeaux.

"So?" asked Amanda.

"Well, the last time he came to visit, I overheard Auntie Tina tell Solange that 'her boy might turn out to like boys more than he does girls.'"

"What?" replied a stunned Amanda.

"And when we are at the Lundi Gras Festival and Armand and his friend were back up dancing behind Solange, they looked a lot more interested in each other than in her," replied Thibodeaux.

"What? I didn't see that at all. Besides, I saw him kissing Solange one night and he really looked like he was enjoying it," replied Amanda.

"I didn't say he did not like Solange. She is beautiful and kind and everyone loves her. But I heard Auntie Tina tell a friend that she would not be surprised if when Armand goes away to school and is away from his Mama, he changes his direction," replied Thibodeaux.

"But Solange doesn't know that," replied Amanda.

"Auntie Tina thinks she does know, but Solange is so determined to not be like my Mom, she likes having a boyfriend who is safe," replied Thibodeaux. "Besides, she really loves Armand and he loves her. Anyone can see that."

Amanda was stunned. There were boys at her school that she thought were gay, one lived next door and had been her friend since first grade. Another one of her friends had an older sister at Smith College and she had told her that there were lesbian women at Smith and women who said they were bi-sexual and no one thought a thing about it. But this was the first time she had known someone who might be about to change teams. Well, this was one more thing she needed to figure out along with just what was going on with Miss Gaby and her grandfather even though she just about had that one figured out. So that is why Michael seemed to think he actually had a chance with Solange. He probably picked up on what might be going on with Armand.

About four o'clock that afternoon, Superintendent Bernard arrived with the Travco; it was hauling an ancient Datsun which Cyrus was going to use to get back to Baton Rouge that night.

Amanda looked at the Travco in awe. She had never seen a motorhome in Greenwich, Connecticut. The only time she had seen anything like this were the huge buses that rock bands used to travel across the country.

But this one wasn't huge-just medium sized or something. It was white with an aqua strip painted around the circumference. There was a white appliance on the roof which she supposed/ hoped was an air conditioner.

Amanda climbed into the motorhome and looked around. There was an old blonde wood dinette with tangerine cushions on the benches that looked like it could be made into a bed, above the two front bucket seats was another bed, and then there were bunk beds that pulled down from the ceiling, and a large bed in back. There was a small kitchen and a small bathroom with an even smaller shower. The interior was very old and a little beat up looking, but it looked like the mattresses and the dinette cushions had all been replaced. There was also a fairly new coffee maker attached to a shelf on the wall and it looked like the small built in refrigerator had been replaced because someone had cut into the cabinets to make a bigger opening for the refrigerator and it didn't quite fit. The motorhome was really cute, but how were six people going to live in it for five days?

"I didn't have time to find a luggage rack for the roof so you are going to have to pack very lightly. If you give me some of the things you want to take but won't fit, I will send them by UPS to arrive in LA after you arrive," said Cyrus.

"Well, Solange, Michael and I don't have very much so we should be able to take it all with us," said Amanda.

"I'll give you their school books to ship. The kids won't be able to study while we are traveling without getting car sick," said Miss Gaby. "Okay, we are going to leave at the crack of dawn tomorrow, so let's load up the motorhome so tomorrow morning all we have to do is load ourselves and our toothbrushes," said Miss Gaby.

"Uh, Gaby, I don't think you should go with them. I was on the phone last night with Michael and DJ's dad, Benedicte, and we both think that if you disappear, it will be a red flag for those terrorists. We are pretty sure they monitor the kids' grandfather's phone so they will know he has a friend in Louisiana. If you just disappear, it won't take long for them to figure out who your friends are and might lead them straight to that guy in Los Angeles," said Cyrus.

"But the kids need my help. Who is going to drive the motorhome? I am the only one with a legitimate driver's license," said Miss Gaby.

"Not any more. Benedicte emailed photos of Michael and Solange and I had Louisiana driver's licenses issued for both of them. The Louisiana licenses are legitimate; we make them for our undercover officers and they will hold up in a traffic stop," said Cyrus handing Solange and Michael a driver's license with their new names and some address in Baton Rouge.

Cyrus looked at Michael, "You need to give those Texas driver's license your father sent to me so I can destroy them. They are not on Texas Motor Vehicles database, so they won't work if you are stopped."

"But we can't send them alone all the way to California," said Miss Gaby.

"They won't be alone. I will be with them," said Michael.

"Solange has been babysitting since she was nine years old. She can take care of anything," said Thibodeaux.

"I don't need a babysitter. I am thirteen years old....," Amanda's voice trailed off. She was not going to risk everyone laughing at her. Just when did everything that came out of her mouth start to be funny?

"The thing is, Gaby, I think by going with them, you will be putting them in even more danger than they are now," said Cyrus.

"They will be driving across country with just a twenty-three year old man from New York City to take care of them. You don't think that's dangerous?" asked Gaby.

"Hey, I'm pretty good at taking care of things," said Michael.

"I know you are but just how much do you know about road trips, about the West, anything about the culture outside the East Coast?" asked Miss Gaby.

"Gaby, it's a risk we have to take. The best thing you can do is go back to Austin and live your life the way you always do so no one suspects you had anything to do with these kids. If you don't and you disappear, those terrorists will investigate your life and look at everyone you know. None of your friends will be safe and they will find out about the house in LA," replied Cyrus.

"But...," replied Gaby.

"Didn't you tell me that Amanda's grandfather called your cell phone to ask for help and that you called the guy in Los Angeles from your home phone number?" asked Cyrus.

"Well, yes," replied Gaby.

"So the best thing you can do is return to Austin and live like you always do and don't call anyone else who is connected to these kids," replied Cyrus.

"Well, I guess I need to defer to your judgment," said Gaby. "But I am really worried about them."

"A couple days after you are all gone from here, I am going to bring a moving van out here and take their car somewhere and hide it," said Cyrus. "I don't want anyone coming here and finding that car and figuring this out."