A Promise of Thunder (25 page)

“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.

“I don’t remember nothin’ like that,” Bull said sullenly.

“Think hard, Bull. I have a very reliable description of you and your friends. That girl was my wife. She was carrying my child. You and your friends were going to rape her, but she fought you and spooked the horse. She was stomped and gravely hurt. But that’s not the worst part. The worst part is that you left her lying in the dirt, badly injured and about to lose her child. She died, Bull. Died from her injuries and loss of blood.”

“Think what ya want, Renegade, that don’t change nothin’. Will ya take me up on my challenge?”

“When and where?” Grady’s face was stark, his expression fierce. His lips were drawn so tightly against his teeth, he appeared to be snarling.

“Sundown tomorrow, behind the livery at the edge of town.”

“I’ll be there, of course,” Turner threw in. “Just to see that no one interferes, you understand.”

“Say your prayers, Bull. At sundown you’ll meet your maker,” Grady vowed tersely.

“Didn’t think you’d reformed.” Bull laughed nastily as he turned away. “You don’t look like no farm boy to me. Tomorrow at sundown, Renegade.”

Storm stared at their departing backs with something akin to horror. She couldn’t believe Grady had accepted the challenge so calmly. Did his promise to her mean nothing? She had thought he’d given up his violent ways, yet here he was preparing for a shootout with a desperado. That the man was one of those responsible for Summer Sky’s death made little difference to Storm. A promise was a promise.

“Why, Grady, why did you do it?” Her voice cracked with emotion.

“Weren’t you listening?” Grady asked as he searched her face for some sign of understanding. “Bull is one of the men who accosted Summer Sky the day of her death. I knew their names and had their descriptions, but little else. But I prayed that one day I would meet up with them. Killing Bull will be a pleasure.”

“Killing him will land you in jail,” Storm said bitterly.

Grady withheld comment. Killing Bull could very well land him in jail, but it was a chance he had to take.

“What about your promise, Grady? You said you wouldn’t knowingly court violence again, that you’d given up that kind of life for good. Think about your son. Do you want Tim to remember his father as a killer?”

“Perhaps Bull
will
kill me,” Grady admitted softly. Storm paled visibly. Not once had she considered that possibility. “It’s better than having Tim remember me as a coward. I’m doing this for his sake as well as for mine. I can’t let his mother’s death go unavenged when one of the men responsible has handed me the opportunity I’ve been praying for.”

“Is that your final word?” Storm asked, giving him every opportunity to recant.

“That’s my final word.”

“Then obviously I mean nothing to you. I thought—Never mind what I thought. It no longer matters. If you insist on this madness, then I won’t be here when you return—if you return.”

A white line around his taut mouth was the only indication that Grady had heard her.

“I’m not returning to the homestead with you, Grady. I’m moving to town. I’ll be at the Guthrie Hotel if you change your mind. I’ve lived through this once; I can’t bear it a second time.”

“Storm, you don’t understand.”

“No, Grady,
you
don’t understand.”

“You’re going home with me and that’s final,” Grady said as he swept Storm off her feet and lifted her onto the seat of the wagon with enough force to jar her teeth.

“Dammit, Grady, I don’t want to be made a widow again.”

“You won’t be.” He swung onto the seat beside her and picked up the reins. Storm’s face was mutinous as they left Guthrie. By the time they reached their homestead she was so angry she could neither speak nor look at him.

Laughing Brook knew something was amiss the moment Storm jumped from the wagon and stomped into the cabin. She lingered outside while Grady unhitched the
horses. The muscles of his face twitched and his motions were short and jerky as he struggled to keep his rage under tight rein.

“What happened in town, Thunder?” Grady sent her an oblique look, then turned back to his task.

“Why is Storm so angry?”

“Dammit, Laughing Brook, it’s between me and Storm.”

“I sense it goes beyond that,” Laughing Brook said quietly.

Defeated, Grady turned to face her. “In a way it does concern you.”

“Storm does not want me here.”

“This has nothing to do with your presence in our home. It concerns your sister.”

“Summer Sky?” Laughing Brook’s lovely features wore a bewildered look.

“I encountered one of the men responsible for your sister’s death in town.”

Laughing Brook went still. “Are you certain?”

“As certain as I can be.”

“Did you kill him? Is that why Storm is angry?”

“I didn’t kill him—yet. But I will when I meet him tomorrow at sundown behind the livery. Storm begged me not to accept the challenge, but once I realized who he was there was no turning back.”

“Your wife should never have asked such a thing of you,” Laughing Brook said spitefully.
“It is your right to avenge Summer Sky’s death.”

“Storm doesn’t see it that way,” Grady replied. “Her first husband’s death occurred as a result of a gunfight and she made me promise to avoid violence.”

“Surely you didn’t promise such a thing!” Summer Sky said, aghast. “You are Thunder, a man admired by the People for your courage. Your enemies fear you because you are cunning and fearless. You were not meant to be a farmer. Farming is women’s work, unfit for a Lakota warrior.”

“Times have changed, Laughing Brook. Indians no long reign supreme in the west. They have been herded like animals to reservations that can’t support half their numbers. I am doing what I deem best for myself and my family.”

“But you didn’t keep your promise, Thunder,” Laughing Brook reminded him. “Tomorrow at sundown Summer Sky’s death will finally be avenged.”

“And I will have lost my wife,” Grady said bleakly.

“Storm isn’t the woman for you. She never was.”

“That’s for me to decide,” Grady said as he stared toward the cabin with a look of utter hopelessness. “Go help Storm with supper. My marriage isn’t up for discussion.”

Supper that night was a grim affair. Storm waited until everyone had eaten before sitting down to her own supper. Then she
closed herself in the bedroom and for the first time since their marriage, latched the door. When Grady found himself locked out of his own bedroom he seethed with anger and humiliation. He felt Tim’s eyes on him and knew that if he failed to command proper respect from his wife, his son would hold him in contempt. The certain knowledge that Laughing Brook already thought him a fool made him react violently to Storm’s deliberate snub. Raising a booted foot, he broke the flimsy door open with one well-aimed kick.

The door flew inward and Storm whirled, her face a mask of astonishment. And fear. Grady’s fierce expression sent her stumbling backward, one hand clutching her throat. She’d always known he was a violent man, but thus far his anger had never been directed at her. She watched in trepidation as Grady calmly set the door straight, then pulled it shut. When he turned back to glare at her she swallowed her fear, lifted her chin, and glared back at him with all the bravado she could muster.

“Don’t ever try to lock me out of our bedroom,” he gritted out. “I won’t be made a fool of before my son.”

“You should have thought of that before you accepted a challenge from that gunman.”

“I had no choice,” he bit out harshly.

“You had two choices. You could have walked away.”

“You know why I agreed to meet Bull.”

“I know, but it makes no difference. You broke your promise.”

“I never thought I’d find one of the men responsible for Summer Sky’s death. It’s been several years.”

“Think, Grady, think what this will do to your son,” Storm pleaded. “If you don’t care about my feelings think about Tim.”

“It’s too late for logic, Storm. I’m meeting Bull tomorrow at sundown and nothing you can say will dissuade me. Go to bed, lady.”

“I’m not sleeping with you.”

“I said go to bed. I won’t touch you, if that’s what you’re concerned about. You’ll feel differently about this tomorrow after you’ve had time to think about it.”

“Never!”

Sleep did not come easily for Storm. She was more frightened than at any time in her life. The thought of losing Grady was terrifying. How many times must she mourn someone she loved? She had told him she’d leave if he went through with this insanity and she wouldn’t back down now. She could be just as stubborn as Grady. If he insisted on facing Bull in a shootout, she wouldn’t be here when he returned. She’d been stupid to think Grady was ready to give up violence. If he broke his promise once, doing so the next time—and the next—would come easier, until Storm would be afraid to go into town for fear some drifter looking to make a name for himself would challenge Grady.

Grady was up at dawn and gone from the house shortly afterward. When Storm heard the distinct sound of gunfire she knew Grady was practicing for tonight. Bull had been correct in assuming that Grady had lost some of his skill during the months he’d been inactive, Storm reflected, else he wouldn’t be out there right now practicing. The thought was not comforting.