A Promise of Thunder

by Connie Mason

“I think you’re too hard on yourself, Grady.”

  “No harder than I deserve. It wasn’t until I realized my son was more important to me than vengeance that I tried to escape the violence that followed me wherever I went.”

  “Is that why you left the reservation?”

  “I left because Wakantanka came to me in a vision and told me it was time to go,” Grady explained. “Even then I refused to give up my violent ways and drifted for six months, searching for a place where I felt as if I belonged. I lived by the gun. I accepted all challenges and made a name for myself as a gunslinger. As you have good reason to know, men came looking for me, hoping to make a name for themselves by outshooting the Renegade, the name given to me by those who knew of my past.”

  “Do you know the men who caused Summer Sky’s death?”

  “I have never seen them, but Summer Sky gave me their descriptions before she died, and the sheriff found their names on wanted posters. I will never forget them.”

  “What if you run across them one day? Will you take the law into your own hands? You have a son to think about, Grady, and a wife.”

  For the first time since Buddy’s death Storm saw things clearly. She was wrong to hold Grady responsible for Buddy’s death. Poor Buddy just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. The truth of the matter was that Grady had been challenged, and if he hadn’t reacted swiftly he would have been cut down in the street. The bullet that killed Buddy did not come from Grady’s gun. Living with vengeance had changed Grady from a happy youth to a hardened renegade called Thunder and made him a bitter and remorseless man. The same thing could happen to her if she didn’t forgive Grady for his part in Buddy’s death.

  “I truthfully don’t know what I would do if that happened,” Grady said slowly.

  “I forgive you, Grady.”

  “What?”

  “I shouldn’t have held you responsible for Buddy’s death. It was an accident—a tragic one, but an accident nevertheless.”

  “What about the other?” Grady asked solemnly.

  “Other? What do you mean?”

  “What about the guilt you feel when I make love to you? Do you still regret that it is me bringing you pleasure instead of your dead husband? Do you still feel shame that I can make you feel things that Buddy never did?”

  Storm flushed, embarrassed that he read her mind so effortlessly. “I can’t help it. I knew Buddy all my life, just as you knew Summer Sky. It frightens me that you have touched my life so profoundly in such a short time. What kind of woman am I?”

  “A passionate woman, Storm Stryker, who never knew the joy of sexual fulfillment until I gave it to you. It pleases me more than you’ll ever know to think that you gave me much more than your virginity, which rightfully belonged to Buddy. I’d much rather have your fire, your passion, your soul.”

  Storm went still. “You said you didn’t want my soul,” she said quietly. “You didn’t even want my love.”

  “Do I have it?”

  “Do I have yours?”

  How like Storm to answer a question with a question, Grady thought, suppressing a grin.

  “You have the only emotion I am capable of at the moment.”

  “What is that?”

  “I care for you. I wouldn’t have married you if I didn’t. My body wants you, more than it’s ever wanted another woman. You have my passion, my care, my consideration. As for love, let’s take one step at a time. Now it’s your turn.”

  “I could love you so easily, Grady,” Storm confessed, “but I’m afraid.”

  “What do you fear?”

  “I fear the hatred that still exists in your heart, the violence that comes searching for you, and the lust for vengeance that fills your life. I fear losing you as I lost Buddy—and I fear surrendering my soul and receiving nothing in return.”

  “Don’t ever fear me,” Grady said, raining gentle kisses on her lips. “I won’t ever hurt you. Loving you with my body cleanses my soul of all its hatred. You’re good for me, Storm. I need you. Tim needs you.”

  “Oh, Grady, I want to believe you.”

  “If you can’t believe me, then believe in the way I make you feel and trust your emotions. I’m going to love you again, sweet, and when your body is burning and you’re panting with rapture, remember that few couples ever experience anything so profound. Then tell me whether or not you believe what I have just told you.”

  His kisses fell like gentle summer rain on her face and throat, and she felt his hand slide over her abdomen, her skin shivering beneath his touch. When his fingers moved lower, seeking the center of her desire, Storm opened her legs and allowed him free access.

  “Oh, God, this is what I want,” Grady gasped as his hands sought the moistness between her legs. Storm felt helpless, but instead of being shamed by it, a blossoming excitement built within her and her body grew taut as a stretched canvas. His lips silenced her soft cries and his tongue danced against hers in desperate need. Then suddenly he was on her, in her, thrusting, retreating, thrusting again.

  The force of Grady’s fervor rocked her to her very core, and Storm gasped as she was flung over the edge of pleasure’s peak. Her body shuddered as she watched Grady strive toward his own climax. In the throes of passion he looked more fierce and threatening than the renegade savage she had originally thought him to be. Yet she knew him to be more vulnerable at this moment than at any other time in his life. Suddenly he threw back his head and roared. His seed spilled against her womb as he held her fiercely, possessively. Unwilling to be privy to so intimate a moment, Storm closed her eyes.

  “Open your eyes, sweetheart,” he whispered, stroking the silky strands of her blonde hair.

  She did as she was told and found her eyes straying to the curving sweep of his lips. Flushing, she recalled what those lips could do to her, how they could drive her wild with need. Her next thought was that his lips were the only soft part of him.

  “Are you ready to answer my question now, lady?” His voice held a note she’d never heard before.

  Storm thought a long time before recalling what he had asked. “I believe your body wants me, and I believe you want to live without violence and the need for vengeance, but I don’t believe you are ready yet to forget the past and look only to the future. Your old life is too deeply ingrained in you. But I’m willing to give you the benefit of the doubt and trust that our life together will be serene.”

  “Serene? Ha!” Grady laughed. “You don’t have a serene bone in your body. I suspect we’ll disagree often, and you’ll win more times than you’ll lose. With you I won’t know one day to the next what to expect, until we go to bed. Then I will make you purr like a contented kitten.”

  “Grady Stryker!” She punched him playfully.

  “Go to sleep, sweet, before I exhaust you so thoroughly you’ll not be able to rise from bed tomorrow.”

  “Grady.”

  “Ummmm.” His eyes were closed, his breathing even. Storm could tell he was on the edge of sleep.

  “About Laughing Brook. Isn’t it time she returned to the reservation?”

  Silence.

  “Dammit, Grady, answer me, I don’t think …”

  His soft rumbling snore told her he hadn’t heard a word she’d said. So much for demanding answers from a strong-willed man like Grady Stryker.

  * * *

  During the weeks that followed Storm found a happiness she had despaired of ever finding again after Buddy’s death. Even Laughing Brook ceased to annoy her, and to her joy Tim began to accept her into his life. The child no longer ran to Laughing Brook for comfort or advice, and little by little his resentment of Storm began to wane. Storm knew that the time had arrived to send Laughing Brook back to the reservation, and Grady concurred wholeheartedly.

  Grady had already tilled a large section of their land and planted wheat, a backbreaking job, but an immensely rewarding one. One day Storm received word that the cattle she’d ordered had arrived and were in the ho
lding pen in Guthrie. She and Grady rode to town, and she spent nearly all the money left in her bank account to pay for the cattle. When Grady tried to pay for the animals with his money, Storm adamantly refused. Since it was something she had planned before they married, she felt she should be the one to pay. Grady didn’t feel right about it, but decided to let her have her way. The cattle were driven home and turned loose on Storm’s 160 acres.

  While in town Grady arranged to have a well drilled on his land and water piped into the house so it could be pumped from the sink. Once it was completed Storm was thrilled that she no longer had to draw water from the river. When Storm asked if Grady could afford it, he merely laughed, telling her they weren’t as dirt poor as she suspected.

  But the best part of those weeks were the nights. Lying in Grady’s arms was pure heaven—and sometimes the most tormenting hell. No matter how hard Storm tried, she couldn’t shut out the lingering guilt over the wanton way in which she responded to Grady’s love-making. But she was astute enough not to let it interfere with her budding relationship with her husband and assumed that in time those feelings would disappear altogether.

  When Laughing Brook was told to prepare for her return trip to the reservation she begged to be allowed to remain, and even enlisted Tim to plead in her behalf. But Grady was adamant. He had promised Jumping Buffalo, Laughing Brook’s father, that he would return his daughter when Tim no longer needed her, and he sensed that the time had arrived when Tim could dispense with Laughing Brook’s company. Grady felt he had indulged his son long enough. Tim was old enough to realize that he must grow up. Storm was ecstatic when Grady told her Laughing Brook would be leaving in a few days. Then something happened that shattered Storm’s newfound happiness.

  One day Storm accompanied Grady to Guthrie to buy supplies. While driving through town she saw someone she had hoped never to see again. Nat Turner had returned to Guthrie. He was standing in front of the bank, talking to a man neither she nor Grady had ever seen before.

  “Grady, look!” Storm said as they passed the bank. “Isn’t that Nat Turner?”

  “What the hell!” Grady spat disgustedly. “I thought I told him never to show his face in Guthrie again.”

  “Do you know the man he’s talking to?”

  The man in question was big; big and ugly and nearly as broad as he was tall. His barrel chest and thick arms gave mute testimony to his massive strength. He wore his guns in the style of gunfighters, shoved into a leather holster riding low on his hips and tied down at his thigh. Suddenly Turner spotted them and said something to the man beside him. Then they both turned and stared pointedly at Grady and Storm. The gunman’s beady eyes narrowed until they were mere slits in his florid face. His considering gaze rested on Storm for a brief moment before continuing on to Grady, where they stopped abruptly and remained.

  An unexpected shudder traveled down Storm’s spine. “Why is that man staring at you?”

  Grady gave a careless shrug. He knew exactly what the man wanted, but deliberately kept that information from Storm. He’d seen that look too many times in the past not to recognize it. The man represented the kind of violence Grady had once relished but had been hoping to avoid since his marriage to Storm. They all had the same look about them; the cocky attitude, the guarded expression. Grady knew what to expect but tried to deny it. He had promised Storm he wouldn’t seek violence and he intended to keep his promise.

  Grady’s body tensed, his eyes narrowed and watchful. Years of training and experience had taught him to trust no one, especially those men who came looking for a fight. He had hoped that in the months he’d settled in Oklahoma his reputation for mayhem would have slowly died. But unless he was mistaken, he was about to receive another challenge. This time the challenger wouldn’t find him so eager to defend his reputation. That reputation just wasn’t worth losing Storm.

  The wagon turned the corner and Grady reined in before the seed store. The general store, where Storm intended to shop, was across the street.

  “What do you suppose Nat Turner is doing back in town?” Storm asked worriedly as Grady swung her to the ground.

  “It doesn’t matter,” Grady said. “He can do nothing to hurt you. He knows I’ll kill him if he so much as touches you.”

  “Did you recognize the man he was talking to?”

  “I never saw him before,” Grady said guardedly. But he had seen men just like him in every town along the western frontier.

  “He looked at you as if he knew you.”

  Grady shrugged. “Forget him, sweet. There are countless men like him in the territory. They’ll never amount to anything. They drift from place to place making a living by whatever dishonest means they can.”

  “I don’t like the idea of him being with Turner.”

  “Don’t worry, Storm, I promise those men won’t harm you. It’s getting late. I suggest you get your shopping done.”

  “It’s not me I’m worried about,” Storm muttered as she crossed the street to the general store.

  When Storm returned to the wagon a short time later Grady hadn’t returned yet from the seed store, but Nat Turner and his cold-eyed friend were leaning against the wagon waiting for them.

  “Well, Mrs. Stryker, how nice to see you again,” Turner said, tipping his hat cordially.

  “The feeling is not mutual,” Storm said. She swished her skirt haughtily as she deliberately avoided both men.

  “That’s no way to act,” Turner said, affronted. “We were good friends once.”

  “That was before you tried to steal my homestead.”

  “That’s your opinion.” Turner grunted as all pretense of cordiality disappeared. “My friend and I were just discussing your husband.”

  “If you have questions, ask me, not my wife.” Grady’s voice was deep and menacing, giving the gunman enough reason to whirl and reach for his gun. “I wouldn’t if I were you.” Grady had left the store only moments before and his temper nearly exploded when he saw Turner and the gunman talking to Storm.

  The gunman’s hand dropped to his side and Turner held open his coat, showing that he wasn’t armed. “Now, what was it you wanted to know?” Grady asked with icy disdain.

  “My friend here wants to meet you,” Turner said, gesturing toward the gunman. “You both have a lot in common.” Grady’s glacial glance flicked contemptuously over the gunman. “His name is Bull. Just Bull,” Turner repeated when Grady stiffened suddenly and turned the potent fury of his blue eyes back to the gunman.

  “Bull,” Grady repeated tersely. “Ever been to Cheyenne, Bull?”

  “Maybe,” Bull said testily. “What’s it to ya?”

  “Just curious. If that’s all you wanted, I’ll bid you good-bye. It’s time I was getting home.”

  “Not so fast, Renegade,” Bull said, placing a hamlike hand on Grady’s arm. “I know who you are. My friend Turner’s been tellin’ me about you, about how fast you are with a gun, and how you and your band of renegades attacked wagon trains and killed innocent women and children and all.”

  Grady went still, every nerve in his body demanding that he respond violently to Bull’s words. A nudge from Storm calmed him down. “You’re mistaken. I’ve never attacked wagon trains carrying women and children. You’re confusing me with someone else. I’m a respectable farmer.”

  “I ain’t confusin’ you with no one,” Bull said slyly. “Every man in the territory has heard stories about the renegade Injun and how fast he was with a gun. When Turner here told me he knew ya personally, I persuaded him to come to Guthrie with me so he could introduce us.”

  Grady stared at Bull through shuttered lids. He tried to ignore the voices in his head, but he knew who Bull was. Summer Sky had described him accurately before she died in his arms, and the descriptions of him and his friends were etched upon his brain forever. He glanced at Storm, wondering how she would react if he followed his intuition. For years he had been searching for the three men responsible for Summer Sky’s
death and now one of them stood before him, bigger than life and twice as ugly.

  “Say what you’ve come to say,” Grady ground out.

  “I’m saying that ya ain’t as good with a gun as people say ya are. I’m willin’ to put my life on the line and tell ya I’m better.”

  Storm stifled a gasp and tugged at Grady’s arm, urging him away from the violence she knew was inevitable. He shrugged her aside, for a moment forgetting she even existed. His thinking process shut down the moment he realized Bull was one of the men responsible for Summer Sky’s death. “Are you challenging me to a gun duel?”

  Bull grinned evilly. “I’ll be a hero when it’s known that I drew against the renegade and won.”

  “Sure of yourself, aren’t you?”

  “Yeah, damn sure. You ain’t had much practice out there on your farm. What do ya say, Renegade, are ya willin’ to meet me fair and square?”

  “Grady, no!”

  Storm’s plea fell on deaf ears. “When was the last time you were in Cheyenne, Bull?”

  Bull spat out an oath. “What’s so damn important about Cheyenne?”

  “Where are your friends Cox and Bickley?”

  “Huh? How do you know about them? They were both killed robbin’ a bank in Fort Worth.”

  “Too bad you weren’t with them,” Grady spat. “Do you remember a day five years ago when all three of you were in Cheyenne together?”

  “Oh …” Storm felt as if she had been struck in the stomach with a fist. She knew exactly what Grady was talking about.

  “Maybe,” Bull said guardedly. “What’s it to ya?”

  “Do you recall an Indian girl that day? She was driving a wagon to town. You and your friends stopped her and pulled her from the wagon. You tormented her, calling her a squaw, and then you tore off her clothes.”

  Turner looked from Bull to Grady, realizing he had placed himself squarely in the middle of a potentially explosive situation that had nothing to do with him. It was something he hadn’t counted on. But it was too late now to back out. He was in this with Bull and had every confidence in the gunman’s ability. He had seen for himself how fast Bull was on the draw and knew for a fact that Stryker hadn’t had much practice defending himself lately. Turner’s object, of course, was land. He’d be on hand to buy poor Widow Stryker’s double claim after her second husband’s funeral.