A Promise of Thunder (8 page)

Storm wasn’t the only one stunned by the kiss. The tumult Grady experienced was equally shattering. What had started out as an amusing experiment had quickly turned into raw lust. His violent reaction to a woman he had no business kissing stunned him. Thus he wasn’t prepared when Storm doubled her fist and rammed it into his face. The blow caught him in the eye, sending him stumbling backward. Unable to stop his descent, he sat down heavily on his bottom. What sounded suspiciously like a grunt left his lungs in a great expulsion of air. The surprised look on his face gave Storm enormous satisfaction. So did the swelling already visible around his right eye.

“Don’t ever touch me like that again!”

Still stunned, Grady remained on the ground, staring up at Storm with new respect. He could feel his flesh swelling and wondered if her fist was as sore as his eye. He was amazed at the strength behind the wallop and hoped she hadn’t broken anything.

“You could have warned me you were going to do that,” Grady complained.

Storm bit back a smile. Though her hand hurt dreadfully, it was worth it to see the arrogant half-breed laid low. “Keep your hands to yourself, Grady Stryker, and I’ll not be forced to defend myself again.”

“I think you protest too much, lady,” Grady said, picking himself up off the ground. “You thoroughly enjoyed everything I did to you. Are all white women so damn contrary?”

“I don’t know about anyone else, but I’m not the kind of woman who allows just any man to kiss her.”

“Is it because I’m a half-breed?” His flinty blue eyes probed her relentlessly, demanding an answer.

“It’s because I didn’t like the way you kissed me, or touched me. My own husband didn’t kiss or touch me like that.”

Grady looked incredulous. “More’s the pity. It’s about time someone did.”

“What do you know about marriage?” she snorted, incensed. Obviously the half-breed knew nothing about the holy state of matrimony.

“I was married before I was twenty-one.” His statement took the wind out of her sails.

“M—Married? You have a wife?” Why should that information give her a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach? Storm wondered curiously.

“I
had
a wife.”

Storm thought he was being exceptionally bullheaded and asked, “What happened to her? Did you abandon her?”

“Summer Sky is no longer alive. She left the earth over three years ago.”

The hollowness of his voice gave Storm a glimpse of the agony Grady suffered over the death of his wife. Storm thought that he must have loved her deeply to still suffer the loss after so long a time.

“I’m sorry.” She could think of no other words
that would express her sympathy.

“It was a long time ago. It is no longer as painful as it once was,” Grady said, staring off into the distance. “In time you will feel the same about your husband. Life continues. One day you will find a new mate to share your life.”

“Have you? Found a new mate, I mean.”

His eyes were sharp and assessing as he said, “Perhaps.”

Storm grew restive under his sizzling scrutiny. Sometimes he looked at her as if he were a cat and she his saucer of milk.

“Then I wish you luck. It will take an unusual woman to keep a man like you under control.”

“Yes, very unusual.”

“I must return,” Storm said as she grabbed the buckets Grady had filled with water and started to move off. The conversation was becoming far too intimate for her liking. And after the kiss he just gave her, she feared he might take advantage of her again. Another kiss like that and she’d be babbling like an idiot.

“Let me carry them to your wagon,” Grady said, taking the buckets from her hands. Finding no reason to object, Storm hurried away, leaving Grady to follow behind her.

Storm’s cabin was ready for occupancy early in November. It was crudely finished but tight and cozy enough to keep out the winter winds when they came. She had purchased a few pieces of furniture in Guthrie and had the
workers set them in place before they left. The well still wasn’t completed, but work was continuing. Meanwhile, she made the daily trip for water, crossing Grady’s land to reach the river.

Storm’s pride and joy was the iron stove she had purchased in Guthrie. It sat like a fat black Buddha in the kitchen area of the small cabin. Later, she reckoned she could add a bedroom and maybe a separate kitchen. But for now the one large room would serve her needs quite adequately.

Her bed, consisting of a brass frame with rope supports and a thick feather mattress, occupied one corner of the cabin, separated from the work area by a blanket hung from the ceiling. A table, two chairs, and several kerosene lamps were the only other furnishings in the room. The cabin still looked bare in comparison to her parents’ home in Missouri, but given time Storm knew she could make it into a home she could be proud of.

The first visitor to Storm’s new house was Nat Turner. He arrived one brisk day with a small bouquet of fall flowers. Storm was more than a little startled to see him ride up to the house bearing a gift.

“I heard in town that your cabin was built and I wanted to be the first to bring you a housewarming gift,” he said, smiling obsequiously. “It isn’t much, but I know how lonely you must be out here by yourself.”

“Why, thank you, Mr. Turner,” Storm said,
touched by his thoughtfulness. “Won’t you come in? I’m just about to sit down to lunch. There’s plenty if you’d care to join me.”

“I’d be right pleased,” Nat replied, taking off his hat and entering behind her. Once inside, he looked around curiously, wondering what a woman like Storm Kennedy was doing living in a scantly furnished one-room cabin with few amenities to make life bearable. “You’ve fixed the cabin up right nice, Mrs. Kennedy.” Lies came easily to his lips. He could lie and practice deceit with ease, as long as it benefited Nat Turner. “May I call you Storm?”

“Why, I—I suppose,” Storm stammered. She could think of no reason why he shouldn’t use her first name.

“You must call me Nat. I feel like we’re old friends. Have you decided yet how you’re going to farm your land on your own, Storm?”

Actually, Storm had given it a great deal of thought lately. She didn’t have a lot of money left to hire help, yet she had to put the land to use in some way. “I’m still considering several options, Mr.—Nat. Please sit down,” she said, gesturing to one of the kitchen chairs. “I hope you’re hungry. I shot a rabbit early this morning and made it into a delicious stew. There’s also biscuits and honey for desert.”

“A veritable feast, Storm. Thank you, I’m famished. Are you proficient with a gun? Do you do a lot of hunting?”

“Just for small game,” Storm said as she ladled out the stew. “Buddy—my late husband—taught
me how to shoot when we were just children. I’m no expert, but I know how to handle a firearm.”

“As well you should, you being out here alone and all. Has the half-breed on the neighboring spread given you any problems? It’s a shame his kind are allowed to settle amongst civilized people.”

Storm’s spoon stopped half-way to her mouth. “Are you talking about Grady Stryker? Did you know his father owns one of the largest and most prosperous ranches in Wyoming?” She didn’t know that for a fact, but the opportunity to point out that Grady wasn’t the savage people thought was just too tempting to resist. Well, she amended silently, perhaps he
was
a savage, but in ways that had nothing to do with his Indian blood. It had to do with some violent act that had changed him. She had no knowledge of what had changed him, but she fully intended to learn the truth one day.

Turner’s mouth dropped open. “I had no idea. Rumor has it he’s an Indian renegade called Thunder who terrorized white settlers and raided indiscriminately.”

“I wouldn’t know about that,” Storm said. Her shoulders lifted in a careless shrug.

“Look here, Storm, don’t trust the half-breed. I don’t care who his parents are, the man is a killer. I really think you ought to reconsider your decision to homestead.”

“I’ll not give up my land.”

“I’ll give you a good price if you sell to me.
Let me deal with the half-breed. I know how to handle men like him.”

“If I need help dealing with Grady I’ll let you know,” Storm said tightly. She didn’t like being pressured. “As for my claim, Nat, I’m keeping it. I know farming all my acres will prove a difficult task so I’m thinking of running cattle instead.”

“Cattle! What do you know about ranching?”

“About as much as I know about farming, but that isn’t going to stop me. I’ve already talked to someone in town about running cattle, and he’s promised to sell me a small herd come spring.”

“You are one determined woman, Storm,” Nat said, shoving back his chair. “The lunch was delicious, but I really must be going. If you change your mind, you know where to reach me.”

“I won’t change my mind. The flowers are lovely. It was thoughtful of you to bring them out.”

Jamming his hat back on his head, Nat left the cabin. The disgruntled look on his face showed that he was far from pleased with the result of his visit. He had hoped that Widow Kennedy would be thoroughly disgusted by now with the hardships of pioneer life and eager to sell her claim. It was a good piece of land, ideal for grazing, and if he could get his hands on it he could turn a tidy profit. The grass was so lush that if she decided to run cattle instead of growing wheat, as so many
of the farmers planned to do, she would stand to make a fortune.

“What are you doing here, Turner?”

Turner was so engrossed in his devious plotting that he didn’t hear Grady ride up on Lightning.

“I might ask you the same, Stryker. Or would you prefer I call you Thunder?”

A half smile crossed Grady’s face, a smile that did not reach his eyes. “Stryker will do. You haven’t answered my question.”

“Not that it concerns you, but I heard Storm’s cabin was finished and I brought her a housewarming gift.”

“Storm?” he said with a significant lifting of his brows. “Since when have you been on a first-name basis with Mrs. Kennedy?”

“Since we became friends.”

“Keep away from her. She is better off without your kind.”

“And leave her to yours?” Turner laughed nastily. “Not likely. Besides, I doubt Storm will want to stay here once she finds out how lonely the prairie can be for a woman without a man to protect her. When she’s ready to sell I’ll be here with money in my hand. I’ll make you the same offer, Stryker. Men like you don’t settle in one place for very long. Your land is even more desirable than Storm’s. Whenever you’re ready to move on, I’ll take it off your hands.”

“I’ll sell my land, Turner …” Turner’s eyes grew round and his lips stretched into a triumphant smile, “ … when hell freezes over.”

“What was that all about?” Storm asked as she watched Nat ride off hell for leather. “What did you say to him?”

Grady whipped around, unaware that Storm had stepped out the door to investigate. He paused for a moment in silent appreciation before answering. He hadn’t seen Storm in several days, and each time he saw her he was struck anew by her radiant beauty. Storm’s golden hair and fair complexion were a vivid contrast to the dark beauty Summer Sky had possessed. But where Summer Sky had been slim as a boy, Storm could be called voluptuous, with her high-pointed breasts, narrow waist, and gently curved hips.

Storm fumed in mute affront while Grady’s eyes made a slow journey over her face and
form. Why did he look at her like that? she wondered. He made her uncomfortable, staring at her as if he could gobble her up. Then, unaccountably, her own eyes made a quick tour over his tall, buckskin-clad form. Did he never wear clothes like normal men? The soft, supple deerhide clung to his frame like a second skin, leaving nothing to the imagination. He looked tough, lean, and sinewy; his well-muscled body moved with easy grace. He looked powerful and intimidating—and too tempting for her peace of mind.

Suddenly she heard Grady chuckle. “See anything you like?”

Annoyed at being caught blatantly admiring the half-breed scoundrel, Storm bristled indignantly. “I might ask you the same thing.”

“I like everything I see.” His answer caught her by surprise.

“Well I don’t,” she declared haughtily as she turned her eyes to stare past him. “Mr. Turner seemed in an all-fired hurry to leave.”

“He didn’t take kindly to being told to keep away from you. When he offered for my land he went too damn far.”

“Who appointed you my keeper? I told you before, I can take care of myself.”

“For some damn reason I feel responsible for you,” Grady complained. “The least you could do is show some gratitude.”

“Gratitude isn’t exactly what I would call my feelings for you, Mr. Stryker.”

“I can think of at least a half dozen things I’d
rather you felt for me,” Grady answered, surprising himself with his reply. “And a half dozen more pleasant things we could do besides fight.”

His voice was a raspy growl, sending chills up and down Storm’s spine. Never before had a man’s words or tone of voice affected her the way Grady’s did now. She felt all tingly inside, like her innards were melting. She was no virgin, for heaven’s sake; why should she act like an innocent schoolgirl who didn’t know what went on between men and women? And why hadn’t she felt like this with Buddy? Her longstanding relationship with Buddy had been comfortable, almost like that of brother and sister. It wasn’t right that this man—this arrogant, dangerous man—should make her feel as if there were so much more to life than she’d ever dreamed. His words made a sudden mockery of life as she once knew it, and it frightened her.

“Keep your opinions to yourself, Grady Stryker! When I want your help I’ll ask for it, but don’t hold your breath. I suppose you came here for some reason, so you might as well spit it out before I close the door in your face.”

“You’re a hard woman for one so young, Storm Kennedy,” Grady said with a hint of amusement. “I’ve tried my damnedest to be helpful, feeling responsible for you and all, but you won’t let me help you. I just stopped by to see if you need anything from town. I’m going to Guthrie for more nails to put the finishing touches on my cabin. I’ve already moved in,
but it lacks a few amenities.”