A Promise of Thunder

he was also my friend.”
    Grady grew quiet as Storm worked over him, affording her a few moments of private recollection.It was true, Buddy had been her friend long before he had become her husband. She had loved him like a brother, and when it came time to marry, she could think of no one she’d prefer for a husband. But even though she had shared his bed for over a month, she still couldn’t think of him as anything but her dearest friend. She accepted his timid lovemaking, enjoyed it up to a point, but never could discover what all the fuss was about. Making love was nothing special, certainly not the earthshaking experience she had been led to believe. It was a duty she had performed more for Buddy’s sake than her own.
    Yet their marriage would have been a happy one, blessed with children, laughter, and a warm regard for one another. What more could a woman ask for? She missed Buddy fiercely, for he had been her companion and friend most of her life.
    Storm eased Grady into a sitting position and wound the last strip of material around his chest to hold the compress in place. Only a small amount of blood stained the bandage, and Storm hoped the worst of the bleeding had been staunched. Fortunately for the half-breed, the bullet hadn’t hit anything vital, and he should recover with no ill effects.
    “Can you sit a horse?” Storm asked as she helped him to his feet. “Or should I take you back to town in the wagon?”
    “I’m not going back to town tonight.”
    “Are you crazy? What if infection sets in? Areyou prepared to handle a fever?”
    “Did anyone ever tell you that you live up to your name?” His face wore the faintest of smiles.
    “All the time, but that doesn’t change things. You should be seen by a doctor and report the ‘Sooner’ to the authorities.”
    “Tomorrow is soon enough. If I were you, I’d see to erecting a tent. I’m sure there are claim jumpers about, and if there is no dwelling on your claim you’re liable to find it taken from you.”
    “What about you? Will you be all right tonight?”
    “Do you care?”
    His question startled her. By rights she should feel no compassion for the half-breed gunslinger. All her conscience required was that she discharge her Christian duty, which she had already done, and leave him to his own devices. Intuition told her he was a hard, bitter man who had built a protective shell around his heart. Something had made him the kind of man he was today. Did being a half-breed have anything to do with it? she wondered curiously. Yet Storm sensed a brooding sadness in him that begged for compassion and understanding. She might hate what the man had become, but she felt a strong, compelling attraction for the kind of man he could be once he mended his wicked ways.
    “You didn’t answer my question,” Grady repeated softly. “Do you care what happens tome?” Why was he pursuing this line of thought when he knew damn well Storm had good reason to despise him?
    Her skin looked so soft and velvety, he longed to reach out and stroke her cheek. She was so close he could smell violets wafting from the thick blond strands of her hair. Grady had thought all feelings of tenderness long buried, but somehow this young widow had stirred memories that suddenly emerged from the ashes to disturb and titillate him.
    Drawn into the electric blue of his eyes, Storm had to shake herself to escape his spell. She heard his question and found it offensive.
    “I don’t care a fig about you, Mr. Stryker. I helped you because my Christian upbringing demanded it. I still think you’re a violent man who courts danger.”
    The brief softening of Grady’s features abruptly hardened into an inscrutable mask. He must have been crazy to think Storm Kennedy would consider him anything but an uncivilized savage. Next time he’d know better than to deal civilly with the woman. Over three years ago he had chosen the kind of life he wanted to lead. What made him think he could or should change now?
    Because of your son
, his conscience whispered. Certainly not because of a golden-haired witch with the face of an angel.
    “Perhaps you should return to your claim, Mrs. Kennedy,” Grady said dully. “According to the rules you must erect a shelter.” His shoulderhurt like hell and he felt weak as a kitten from loss of blood, but he’d be damned if he’d ask Storm for any more than she was willing to give.
    Storm shot him a quelling look. “You’re right,