The weather in Virginia had turned dark and stormy. Rain pelted against the windowpanes until a sheet of water obstructed the view. Out of boredom, Lori stood in front of her bedroom mirror practicing her fast draw, pretending to face some overconfident male wanting to drag her off. She wasn't sure if she could kill a man, but she wouldn't hesitate to put a hole near the brain he was thinking with. Her eyes squinted into slits while drawing her lips together as if she'd whistle, and then her hand moved in a blur of speed as she drew her gun.

When she holstered her six-shooter, she noticed Bo's reflection in her doorway. The expression on her face didn't change. It didn't help her mood to see him swallow down his laughter. With him as her target, she drew her gun and squeezed the trigger with such speed it blurred. Her aim—his belt buckle reflected in the mirror.

That cocky grin died and his eyebrow cocked. "Guess you're still unhappy with me." She holstered the gun and ignored him. After a few minutes, he asked, "Do you still hate the idea of moving to Texas?"

"The truth?" She drew again. A resounding click filled the quiet room, and then she re-holstered her weapon. "Actually, the idea of moving isn't what made me angry. It was the fact that none of you bothered to tell me you were thinking about it. I still can't understand why it wasn't planned and discussed over the past year. It would have given me the chance to get used to the idea." She drew again and this time, her hand flew even faster. "Believe me; you wouldn't like it one bit if I did that to you."

"I doubt you'd be telling me to pack or get married either." His lips turned up at the thought. "Lori?" She looked his way. "We were afraid to tell you too soon. You might have found a way to stay here."

Her bottom lip puckered out as her eyes turned sappy. "Awe, Bo, that's so sweet."

He lowered his eyes to the floor while digging his thumbs into his pant pockets. "It's the truth. We should stay together. You need us." He peeked back up; his cheeks holding a blush.

He sounded so sincere; her heart swelled. "Yes, I do."

His face lit up with her answer. "Then you aren't upset?"

"Not any longer." The explanation made all the difference. How could she stay irritated when shown such love?

<><><>

The next day, the skies were clear and Lori was determined to practice with her rifle. Her ability with any kind of weapon was excellent. But hitting what she aimed at while riding a moving horse was a different story. She tried hitting the trunks of trees first and laughed when she missed. Somehow, she had to keep her torso still, and that meant using her legs while keeping her bottom free of the saddle.

She found the horse's rhythm and adapted it to the way she often rode standing up on her horse's back. The effort it took, in this case, quickly tightened the inside muscles of her legs, but once she had the movement down, she pulled her rifle, aimed at a tree limb the size of a rolling pin and fired.

"Yahoo!!" Whirling the horse around, she went back to see. She had winged it. Encouraged, she began again, keeping her upper body level to give her a steady arm. Again, she shot and hit. After doing it multiple times, she succeeded at a gallop. But, she didn't stop there. She discovered the position allowed her to rotate around even shooting behind her. The practice became a game because of overcoming the obstacles. But the consequence of not stopping sooner left her legs so sore she could barely walk.

At home, Bo came skipping down the stairs, when he saw Lori coming towards him stooped over like an old woman and walking as if she would topple over. He hurried to help her. "What happened to you? Are you hurt?"

"I'm not hurt, exactly. My legs are protesting the abuse I gave them today."

He put an arm around her waist to help her climb the stairs; but when she stumbled, he swung her into his arms and took her to her room. She bounced twice when he dropped her on the bed. His hands went to his hips. "What the heck were you doing?"

"I did what you told me to do; I practiced firing my rifle while riding." Her entire face beamed with excitement. "I had so much fun, Bo. The challenge of hitting a target from a moving horse..." She told him exactly how she did it while rubbing the ache in her legs.

"No wonder you're sore." He shook his head watching her. "I'll go get the horse liniment."

Lori sighed with relief knowing it would help. When they were young, Bo had been her playmate, which gave them a strong bond. They fought wars with toy soldiers, played tag, or pretended to be Indians. He always chose to be the brave warrior, while she was the squaw who waited on him hand and foot. It hadn't taken her long before she caught on to his game. When she did, she painted her face with watercolors and announced her intention to be a warrior. Bo simply became the cowboy who tried to survive her sneaky attacks.

Just over four years ago, her days of being like a brother changed. They had insisted it was time for her to learn how to be a lady. She hated it, but she learned. Now, she was being told to shed some of those ladylike affectations and ride and shoot like a man. God bless them. For the first time in years, she felt like herself again. She only hoped no one saw her except her brothers.

<><><>

A few weeks later, they finished packing. It had taken Lori days to go through her clothes and choose what to take to Texas. Ball gowns and Bostonian day wear wouldn't be practical for a ranch. The castoffs were given to her friends to keep or give away.

Jacob had told her to choose what she wanted to keep of the household goods and they'd be stored for shipment later. Because of their hurry to leave, she chose the most practical and settled on what meant the most to her. Brad agreed she could keep the piano and made arrangements for it to be stored.

On the day the trunks would be sent to Texas by train, she did what she could to help her brothers load the wagon. By the fifth trunk, Bo was giving her dirty looks. On his seventh trip down the stairs, he was swearing he should burn her clothes. She opened the door for him and watched him step to the wagon. Brad helped him hand the trunk up to Frank and then he and Thomas stacked it on top to tie down. Lori wished she knew more about the weather. She could probably have shed more of the bulk of her clothes.

They never told her why they were shipping the trunks ahead of them, but she thought it had something to do with not taking them on the cattle drive—which they had sneakily failed to mention to her. Why they hadn't was the mystery. In a week to ten days, they would be leaving Virginia and then they'd have no choice but to fess up.

With a frown marring his handsome face, Brad growled, "I hope this is your last trunk. The buckboard barely holds it all."

"That's it. All I have left inside are the clothes I've packed for the trip and those I plan to wear. These pants I'm wearing can be used as rags after I leave."

Brad looked at her britches. "They have more wear in them. You can wash them and either mail them along with that shirt or bring them along. You'll need those clothes for work, not riding skirts. Not for working the ranch."

She had to agree with him. "Bo? Do you have any more castoff pants?"

"Anything I've got would swallow you, but I found some in the attic and packed them already." He tied down a strap across the trunks stacked two high.

Once the trunks were secured, Brad told her, "It's time for you to demonstrate your ability with your firearms. We'll leave in ten minutes. Get your gear. I'll saddle your horse."

She rushed to her room, loaded her revolver, strapped the gunbelt low on her hip, and spun the gun into it. She came outside carrying her rifle. Since learning how to shoot her target on horseback, this opportunity to show off for Brad left her giddy. Gaining his approval had always been important to her. He rode up to the front porch with her horse, and she slipped the rifle into the holstered sleeve on her saddle and then mounted.

They rode off towards their practice area and before long Brad told her, "Start with the rifle."

He reined in his horse, but Lori kicked up speed to a trot. "Call out the target." He did and she shot it clean. To prove what she could do, she began galloping and after passing the same target, she turned in her saddle and shot it again. The astonishment on his face when she hit what she aimed at was well worth the extra practice she'd put in, along with the sore muscles.

"I'm impressed. I had no idea you could do that. I can hit a large target while riding, but not a branch. Most can't. One day, it could save your life. Let's go see what you can do with a sidearm."

They dismounted at her target area lining up tin cans on a felled rotten tree. He stood back to watch her. After she shot each one down quickly, he gave her a nod.

"You might be faster than Bo. Has Jacob seen you draw?"

"Not recently."

"Show me your accuracy."

She walked over and picked up a can and threw it into the air. She drew and shot it twice before it hit the ground. Brad's grin said it all. He approved and it thrilled her.

As they walked over to collect the tin cans, he confessed, "I'm almost afraid to ask, but have you accepted the idea of moving to Texas?"

"Bo asked me the same thing. Are you worried about me?" Her question made him laugh and she shoved him. "You wouldn't admit it if you were." She watched as he rolled his eyes, and then laughingly pushed her back. "You gonna answer me, Brad?"

"Why should I?" he asked. "I'm your favorite brother."

"You keep telling me that." She picked up a bullet casing from the ground and rolled it between her fingers. "I have some concerns, but I'm excited too."

"What worries you?" He opened the cylinder of his gun and filled the chambers.

She shrugged. "Boredom. What am I gonna do with myself?"

He flipped the chamber closed and holstered it. "The same thing you always have. Train the horses we catch. You'll stay busy because Texas is crawling with wild horses."

"Good. I was afraid you wouldn't let me." She stuck the casing in her pocket and picked up another. "Are there women around I can meet?"

"Some." He finished setting up the cans. "We're glad the time has come for all of you to join us. The house has been ready for almost a year now."

"You could have brought a bride home." His sudden laughter didn't dissuade her. "You know you should think about getting married. You're getting old."

His laughter stopped. "I beg your pardon. I'm only in my thirties, and that is not old, young lady."

"Close enough." She grinned when he sneered. "Seriously, Brad. You should think about settling down with a wife and having some kids of your own. You've been a great father to me."

His frown disappeared. "I'm glad you think so, Kitten."

Because he continued to stay silent on the subject of marriage, she asked, "Haven't you met any women who interest you?"

"Sure. There's about five working at the saloon." He flinched when she socked his arm. "Well, you asked."

She glared while wagging her finger. "Frank would tear your head off for talking to me that way. Don't you know I'm an innocent maid who's theoretically naive about what goes on behind those doors at the saloon?"

Brad's brow cocked. "What the hell do you know?"

"Brad, I've watched horses breed. I'm not stupid. Plus, I've heard discussions between all of you." He opened his mouth to say something else, but she stopped him by holding a finger up. "For some unexplainable reason, you don't think to close a door. So it's your fault. Now tell me, truthfully, isn't there a woman you would like to see?"

He wiggled his brows, and she threw him another punch. He only grinned while he rubbed his arm. "Matter of fact, I've seen quite a few."

She studied his face. "In that case, after we get there, I'll have them over. You never know, you may find one to your liking."

He turned and walked away from the targets with her in his wake. "If you want to bring women around, be my guest. Thomas and Frank may like one of them too."

"Need someone in the frying pan with you?" she teased. He barked out a laugh.

This time, they raced to see how long they could keep the cans airborne. After holstering their guns, they rode back to the house and found a man pacing across the front porch.