A Promise of Thunder

features grim. He was seized by a longing so intense, he turned away to prevent embarrassment.
    “Is everything Mrs. Kennedy said true?” Captain Stark asked.
    “Now wait a damn minute,” Fork growled. “What about me and my claim? Can’t ya see the man and his whore are lyin’ through their teeth? He probably killed her husband on purpose so’s they could be together.”
    With the speed of lightning Grady reached out, wrapping his long fingers around Fork’sthroat. “I ought to kill you for that remark, Fork. I didn’t even know Mrs. Kennedy until that gunman’s bullet killed her husband.” His fingers tightened, slowly squeezing the breath from Fork.
    Captain Stark’s quick thinking was the only thing that saved Fork. His arm flew up, abruptly breaking Grady’s hold on the ‘Sooner.’ “None of that, Stryker. I’d hate to have to write your father that you were hanged for murder. Do you want to press charges against this man for shooting you?”
    Grady shook his head. “No, let the scum go. Being left without land to claim is punishment enough. But I warn you, Fork, don’t ever show your face anywhere near my land. Next time you’ll not be so lucky.”
    Rubbing his throat, Fork glanced at Captain Stark, and when the captain made no move to stop him, he slunk away.
    A man at the edge of the crowd stopped him. “Do you know who that half-breed is?” His voice was pitched so low Fork had to strain to hear him. When Fork shook his head, the man continued in a hushed voice. “His Sioux name is Thunder. Most whites know him as Renegade. He’s the fastest gun this side of the Rockies and he carries a grudge against all white men.”
    “Why?” Fork croaked.
    “Don’t rightly know, stranger, but some believe it involves a woman. The man who draws against him and wins will earn the respect andgratitude of men like my friend, who challenged him yesterday and lost.”
    “What happened?” Fork asked, intrigued.
    “It was incredible. I never saw a man draw and shoot so fast. Stryker shot my friend without blinking an eye. If you’d like to get even for what just happened, I’ll take you to my friend. He could use a man like you—one with a grudge against Stryker, or Thunder, or whatever you want to call him.”
    Glancing back to where Grady stood talking to Captain Stark, Fork smile evilly. “Take me to your friend. I reckon we got some talkin’ to do.”

Chapter Four
     
    While Grady spoke to Captain Stark, a man sidled up beside Storm, tipped his immaculate new hat, and asked, “Are you all right, ma’am? I saw the confrontation between your—er—friend and the ‘Sooner’ and hope you weren’t offended by the man’s rough language.”
    Storm stared at the stranger, impressed by his refined speech and manners. He appeared to be in his mid-thirties, with sandy hair and hazel eyes, dressed in the latest fashion. The slim mustache gracing his upper lip twitched when he smiled at Storm. He looked like a prosperous businessman.
    Taken in by the stranger’s suave manner, Storm’s answer came immediately. “Mr. Stryker hardly qualifies as a friend. I’ve only just met him. And the circumstance of our meeting was deplorable.”
    “Ah, yes, the tragic accident involving your husband. How sad for you, my dear. Let me introduce myself. I am Nat Turner, newly arrived in Guthrie to conduct business.” He didn’t mention what kind of business he was involved in, and Storm didn’t bother to ask.
    Storm eyed Turner warily, leery of his intentions. “I’m Storm Kennedy.”
    “I don’t blame you for being cautious, Mrs. Kennedy. Guthrie abounds with all types of scoundrels. But I took you for a lady immediately and wished only to offer my services. In whatever capacity,” he added, sliding a glance in Grady’s direction. “Has the half-breed been bothering you?”
    “Thank you for your concern, Mr. Turner, but I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself.”
    “Of course you are, but just in case, I can be reached at the Guthrie Hotel. I see you are in line,” he remarked conversationally. “Have you by chance claimed a piece of Oklahoma?”
    Storm smiled radiantly, eager and willing to relate how she had claimed her quarter section of prime land. “Yes. Isn’t it wonderful?”
    “Remarkable, I’d say, though I can’t help but wonder how you’ll manage on your own. Farming is difficult enough for a man, but a woman—?”
    Storm’s bottom lip jutted out belligerently.