A Promise of Thunder

horse and buggy rented especially for the occasion. Urging Storm to dress warmly, he bundled her into the buggy and took off at a smart clip. Lanterns mounted on either side of the buggy lit their way, aided by a full moon. Storm was full of excitement when they arrived at the barn, located at the south edge of Guthrie. She could hear the lively music echoing across the plains long before they reached their destination.
    “You look beautiful tonight,” Turner complimented smoothly. It surprised him to realize he meant every word. Dressed in her best gown of midnight blue velvet—the closest thing to mourning attire she owned—Storm looked both demure and sensual at the same time. Fashioned with a high neckline and long sleeves, the form-hugging gown was the epitome of simplicity. Its simple lines and elegant cuthugged her curves like a second skin while the vibrant blue complemented her blonde coloring. There were no frills or furbelows to detract from the natural beauty of the woman wearing the gown.
    Storm dimpled prettily. She hadn’t felt so carefree since Buddy’s death.
    “Shall we dance? I’ll bet you’re a marvelous dancer.” Nat slid an arm around her waist and whirled her into the lively group of dancers.
    Later, they ate from the buffet table and drank cup after cup of the delicious punch to quench the enormous thirst caused by the lively dance steps. Nat seemed to know everyone, and in the course of the evening introduced Storm to so many people her head was awhirl with names she’d never remember. But what pleased Storm most was that no one seemed to care that she was appearing at a public festivity so soon after her husband’s death. An entirely different set of mores and customs prevailed among settlers and homesteaders, it seemed. What might be considered scandalous at home in Missouri caused hardly a ripple in raw frontier towns like Guthrie and Enid.
    “Are you ready for more dancing?” Nat asked as he led Storm out on the crowded dance floor. She slipped easily into his arms, following his lead smoothly as he guided her through the steps.
    Soon other men clamored for a dance, and she didn’t see Nat again until quite late in the evening, when he appeared with more punchand claimed her for a slow dance. Storm didn’t object when he pulled her closer than she thought proper. By now she felt quite giddy and was flushed with the success of her first night out in months. Nat Turner had been a perfect gentleman and she didn’t know when she’d have another chance to enjoy herself so thoroughly. Relaxing in Nat’s arms, she surrendered to the enjoyment of the dance. A prickling sensation at the back of her neck was Storm’s first indication that she was being stared at. She swiveled her head to search the crowded room.
    He was propped against the wall near the open door, arms folded over his broad chest, one moccasin-clad foot crossed over the other at the ankle. He wore his hat pulled low over his forehead, shadowing the vibrant blue of his eyes. He had donned his buckskins for the occasion, in open defiance of the white society he spurned, and wore a fringed jacket she had never seen before. Every splendid inch of him exuded an aura of mystery, danger, and excitement, of lean, hard strength and fierce arrogance. He looked thoroughly, utterly Indian, and he was magnificent.
    To Storm’s chagrin, Grady Stryker was creating quite a stir among the single women at the dance—and a few that were quite happily married.
    Grady’s intense blue gaze made a slow, thorough survey of the huge room before coming to rest on Storm and Nat. He usually heldfrivolous entertainments like this in total contempt, but some perverse demon inside him had made him attend the celebration tonight. The moment he learned Nat Turner was going to escort Storm to the dance he knew he was going to be there to keep an eye on them. Storm was far too gullible to butt heads with a persuasive man like Turner, he thought as he watched Turner twirl Storm around the dance floor in perfect harmony with the music.
    Turner’s fancy maneuvers whirled Storm toward the opposite end of the dance floor, and she momentarily lost sight of Grady. When she stretched her neck to look for him, he was gone. Her relief was enormous as she allowed herself to relax once again in Nat’s arms and enjoy the intricacies of the dance.
    “May I cut in?”
    Storm was stunned to see Grady standing behind them, tapping Nat on the shoulder. But