A Promise of Thunder

Storm’s homestead, never anticipating the total devastation that awaited them.
    The first inkling Storm had of impending disaster came when Grady reined in Lightning so violently, the poor animal reared and nearly unseated them. She came awake with a jerk, startled to hear a string of vile curses rush past Grady’s lips.
    “Wha—what’s wrong?” she asked groggily as she tried to shake off the bonds of sleep.
    His face was taut with simmering rage, his lips drawn back to expose his teeth in a fierce scowl. At first Storm thought Grady’s anger was directed at her, until she followed the direction of his gaze. “You’ve had visitors during the night,” he said tightly. The hollowness of his voice frightened her.
    “Dear God, no!” The words were ripped from Storm’s throat in a tormented shriek. Grady had reined in a hundred feet or so from where the cabin once stood. Nothing remained of the snug little dwelling she had left the night before except charred wood and smoldering ashes. Only the scorched, wood-burning stove she had been so proud of remained, virtually unscathed by the inferno that had destroyed her home.
    Without waiting for Grady to dismount, Storm slid from Lightning’s back, running,stumbling, falling, picking herself up, then running again. Cursing violently, Grady leaped to the ground and gave chase. Storm was within a few feet from the burnt-out hulk when Grady caught her.
    “There’s nothing you can do now, sweetheart,” he said as she sobbed against his chest.
    “Everything I held dear is gone,” she choked out. “All my memories of Buddy, things my parents gave me to set up housekeeping, our wedding presents—everything. How? Why? I don’t understand. What did you mean by ‘visitors’?”
    “Perhaps I spoke prematurely. Did you leave an unbanked fire in the hearth?” Instinct told him the fire hadn’t started on its own, but he didn’t want to alarm Storm until he was absolutely certain.
    Still in shock, Storm shook her head.
    “What about the stove? Could you have forgotten to douse the flame?”
    “No, I distinctly remember banking the fire in the hearth, and the stove was cold when I left home. What am I going to do?” she wailed disconsolately. “There’s not enough money left to rebuild.”
    The air was pungent with the acrid odor of charred wood, and thin wisps of blue mist hung in the cold air above the ruins, suggesting to Grady that the fire had started in the early hours after midnight and had burned quickly. It was suspicious, damn suspicious, Grady thought as his keen eyes made a thorough search of thearea. Even the smallest clue could tell him what had happened during the night.
    “Stay here,” Grady said as he set Storm aside and approached the remains of the cabin.
    “Where are you going?”
    “To look for signs,” Grady tossed over his shoulder. “I don’t think the fire was an accident. I believe it was set deliberately.”
    Only one wall was left standing, charred beyond redemption and ready to topple at the slightest provocation. The other walls had collapsed into a heap of blackened rubble. Nothing remained of the cabin’s contents save for the stove and a few scorched pots and broken pieces of pottery. After a cursory glance at the rubble, Grady turned his attention to the immediate vicinity surrounding the cabin. Dropping to his knees, he examined a set of hoofprints in the soft ground, grunting in satisfaction when he located another set, neither of which belonged to him or Storm. From the depth of the print in the damp soil, Grady established that the riders were much heavier than Storm. And he knew with certainty that they weren’t Lightning’s prints; his mount wore shoes with distinctive markings.
    Then he found a telling piece of evidence that proved conclusively that the fire had been deliberately set. He discovered the remains of a crude torch that had been used to set the cabin ablaze. He carried it back to where Storm stood, intending to put it in his saddlebag and show it to the sheriff.
    “What did you find?” Storm asked anxiously. She was still in a daze, unable to fully comprehend the disaster that had befallen her. Everything of value she owned had been destroyed in one night’s evil doings.
    Grady held up the charred torch. “Hoofprints that belong to neither one of us, for one thing,” Grady said, “and a torch that was probably used to set the fire.”
    “Oh, God,” Storm said, sinking to her knees. She