A Promise of Thunder

claim it. Jumping down from the wagon, she fished in the wagonbed for a stake and mallet, walked a short distance past the boundaries marked by Grady, and pounded in her own stake. Then, savoring her triumph, she turned and sent him a saucy grin.
    Grady threw up his hands in defeat. There was nothing more he could do to convince Storm of the danger existing for a woman trying to eke out a living on her own in a new land, where men had to claw and fight for survival. But when she failed, and fail she must, he’d be there to buy up her land. His blue eyes were troubled as he watched Storm ride away to lay stakes along the borders surrounding her quarter section. Then he turnedaway to mark off his own boundaries, carefully pulling out the stakes he’d found already in place when he’d arrived.
    “Turn around real slow, mister, if ya wanna live to see tomorrow.”
    Grady froze, turning slowly to face the speaker. The man, mounted atop a skinny gelding, was in his middle years, poorly dressed in threadbare denims and flannel shirt, wearing boots that had seen better days. His hat was battered beyond redemption and a growth of whiskers covered his pock-marked face. The shotgun he held was pointed at Grady’s middle.
    “Who in the hell are you?”
    “I’m the man what owns this claim. Name’s Fork. Lew Fork. Them are my stakes yer pullin’ up, Injun.”
    The dull red of anger crept up Grady’s neck as he let the insult slip by. “There’s only one way you could have arrived here before me, Fork, and that’s by jumping the gun. If you’re one of those ‘Sooners’ you’ll find yourself in a heap of trouble. I suggest you get out of here while the getting’s good. I can draw and shoot faster than you can pull the trigger on that shotgun.”
    Fork snorted derisively, but the sound ended abruptly when he noted the calm confidence in Grady’s chilling gaze, the steadiness of his hand poised mere inches above his gun, and the stance that marked him as an experienced gunman. Sweat broke out on his forehead andhis hand was suddenly no longer steady. Never had he seen a man more poised or sure of himself, a man whose expression conveyed utter contempt and disdain—a man not afraid to defend himself or his property. Fork backed down in the face of such overwhelming odds, but being a sneaky man, he had already decided how best to deal with the situation.
    “Yer bluffin’.”
    A muscle twitched at the corner of Grady’s eye. “Try me.”
    Slowly Fork lowered the shotgun. “All right, mister, you win. But I ain’t forgettin’ this or the fact that you done me outta my land.” Backing down left a bitter taste in his mouth.
    “The land was claimed illegally; it was never yours. Now throw down your weapon. I’ll give you five minutes to pull up your tent and high-tail it out of here.”
    Sliding from his horse, Fork tossed his shotgun at Grady’s feet. Then he quickly and efficiently dismantled the rough tent composed of two stakes and a canvas and stowed it behind his saddle, glaring murderously at Grady all the while. When he mounted and rode away, Grady made the fatal mistake of turning his back. It was something he never did under normal circumstances, but Fork had appeared so intimidated, Grady hadn’t thought he had the guts to try to outwit him. But he should have known the man was a coward, and cowards were unpredictable. What saved Grady from certain death was his superb sense of hearing.Attuned to danger and trained to listen for the slightest change in the air around him, he recognized the distinctive click of metal against cold metal. He should have known that a man like Fork would have another gun stashed away somewhere.
    Reacting instinctively, Grady ducked. Thus it was that the bullet meant for vital organs slammed into his shoulder. But Fork assumed the shot was fatal and didn’t stick around long enough to find out. Once the shot left his gun he spurred his mount and rode hell for leather back to town. Since the land was already staked he could claim it any time. He just didn’t want to be around when the body was found.
    Storm heard the shot and lifted her head from her back-breaking task, recognizing the sound immediately. She shaded her eyes with her hand as she scanned the surrounding land. She saw nothing suspicious, only other racers flying by to claim what was left of the land. Nor was there another shot. Still, she couldn’t shake off the premonition that something was