A Promise of Thunder

lovely and provocative as Storm Kennedy. It felt good, damn good. Perhaps abandoning his renegade life, settling on his own land and making a home for his son was the wisest decision he had ever made. If he could accomplish that much, there was hope of reconciling with his parents, he reasoned. And he had Storm Kennedy to thank for it.
    Storm’s mouth snapped shut, swallowing the angry retort on the tip of her tongue. Arguing with the half-breed was like swimming against the tide. Though she got in a few good strokes, she seemed to get nowhere with him. Until several days ago she had never even known men like Grady Stryker existed.
    It was ten miles to Guthrie, but to Storm they seemed like a hundred. Grady appeared not to notice her sullen silence as he kept up a lively conversation extolling the many qualities of the land they had claimed and the endless possibilities of farming such fertile land. Finally, it got to be too much for Storm to bear.
    “What does an Indian know about planting and raising animals?” she snorted in disgust. “Your life is filled with violence and killing and wreaking vengeance on white settlers.”
    He turned from his contemplation of the landscape to stare at her. “I wasn’t always a renegade. There was a time,” his eyes lost their sparkle, his face hardened and his voice grew taut, “when the land meant everything to me. A time … But all that is in the past. I no longer have a home, unless I can make a go of this land I have claimed. I don’t even have the peace of mind I crave. One day another drifter will arrive to challenge me and there will be another gun battle. And after that another, and another, until …” His shoulders lifted in grim reminder that his life was precarious at best.
    “I’m sorry for you, Mr. Stryker,” Storm whispered softly.
    After that their conversation suffered a natural death. Grady’s mood had changed abruptly from most pleasant to melancholy as he stared moodily at the passing landscape. It wasn’t until they reached Guthrie that either attempted speech again, and then it was only to remark on the state of affairs in the territorial capital.
    Proof that the land offered for homesteading was wholly inadequate to the demand was evidenced by the vast numbers of disappointed would-be settlers, literally thousands, who were now rushing out of Guthrie to northern destinations. Every northbound train was almost as heavily loaded as when it had comein the day before, and thousands of people who returned from the land run empty-handed brought tales of as many more persons wandering around aimlessly all over the Cherokee Strip, looking for unclaimed land that was nonexistent.
    Station platforms all along the line were crowded with people who had rushed in and were now looking for a way to get out. The opening of land by the government was over, the Indian land was given away, and still there were thousands of men and women without homes.
    “I suppose we’re the lucky ones,” Storm said thoughtfully as she carefully dodged clumps of people milling in the streets.
    “I’ll feel better once I file my claim,” Grady said.
    The claims office was a madhouse as men rushed to file their claims so they could return to their land and build their obligatory shanties. Officials were so swamped they had to set up makeshift desks outside the main office in order to handle the overflow. It was to one of these that both Storm and Grady headed once they found a place to park the wagon.
    The line moved slowly, too slowly to suit Grady, who had a natural aversion to idleness. Even Storm began to chafe restlessly as the sun grew high overhead and the lines grew longer. Several spats broke out in line, most caused by quarrelsome men anxious to get back to protect their land.
    Suddenly Grady felt the hackles rise at the back of his neck and he turned slowly, having the distinct feeling that someone was staring at him. Had he been recognized again as one of the renegade Indians who brought terror to the hearts of settlers? Would he always be haunted by the things he had done in retaliation for Summer Sky’s death? Even though his anger and gun had been directed only against those men whose hatred for the Indians made them enemies, his reputation had grown by leaps and bounds until every man, woman, and child had feared Thunder, the Sioux renegade.
    He turned slowly, his right hand hanging limply at his side, his fingers flexed. Grady’s eyes narrowed as he