A Promise of Thunder

instant later. Already wounded by Grady’s bullet, his arm flew up and the shot went wild. It found its mark in the body of Buddy Kennedy.
    A high-pitched screech was the first indication to Grady that something was amiss, something that had nothing to do with the man lying wounded in the dusty street. Once the danger was past, people began streaming into the open, seeming to converge on one place. Before the crowd cut off his view, Grady had a brief glimpse of a golden head bent over a still figure lying in the street beside a wagon.
    Noting that his friends were already helping the wounded gunman to his feet, Grady gave him no more than a passing glance, holstered his gun, and rose to his full six feet three inches. He had no idea what dire mishap had taken place across the street, but something compelled him to investigate. Stretching his long legs, he strode briskly across the teeming thoroughfare and plowed into the crowd milling around the two figures who appeared to be the center of attention. When people saw who it was they opened up a path for him, allowing Grady a clear view of the scene.
    A young man, younger even than Grady, lay stretched out on the ground. He was so white Grady knew instinctively that he was dead. Blood seeped from a neat round holein his head, staining the ground beneath him. The blond beauty Grady had noticed earlier was bent over him, her shoulders shaking uncontrollably, her heartrending sobs piercing the air.
    Shock and disbelief nearly paralyzed Storm. One minute she was talking to Buddy and the next he lay dead on the ground. Even in her grief she didn’t need a doctor to tell her that her childhood friend and companion was dead. It was all so senseless, so utterly wrong, that Buddy should die because two vicious men carried their grudge into the streets where innocent passersby could be hurt. Why Buddy? she raged in silent protest. He had so much to live for—so much enthusiasm for life and this new venture they had undertaken.
    She felt a hand on her shoulder, burning through the material of her dress. Turning her head, she peered at Grady through eyes misty with tears—and the breath slammed out of her chest. It was
him!
The half-breed Indian who was the cause of Buddy’s death. Her warm sherry eyes turned glacial, her face hardened, and she deliberately shrugged off his hand where it gripped her shoulder.
    “You!” The word exploded from her mouth like a vile curse. “Murderer!”
    For a moment Grady looked stunned. Then his face cleared as he realized what had happened. He had heard the other gunman fire his weapon, but had given it little thought since the bullet had gone astray. It appeared nowthat the bullet had struck down an innocent bystander—the woman’s brother? husband?
    “I’m sorry,” Grady muttered. He had difficulty working his tongue around the words. Apologizing was something he rarely did. And when he did, it was never a graceful admission. “I fired only once and my aim was true. It wasn’t my bullet that struck down your …”
    “… Husband. Buddy was my husband. And he would be alive right now if you and your friend hadn’t aired your differences on a public thoroughfare.” Her voice had risen steadily until she was screaming at him.
    “Calm down, lady,” Grady urged. He wished desperately that he had never set foot in Guthrie, Oklahoma, this day.
    “How can I calm down when my husband lies dead? How dare you! What does a savage know about grief?”
    “More than you give him credit for,” Grady bit out as he sought to soothe the distraught young woman.
    “Just go away! Can’t you see you’re making matters worse by just being here?”
    Frowning, Grady stepped aside, allowing a woman to help Storm to her feet. Two men quickly stepped forward to lift Buddy into the wagon and drive him to the undertaker.
    “What are you going to do now, dear?” Grady heard the woman ask as she led Storm away.
    Grady wanted to follow, to ask the blonde’s name, but by then the sheriff was pushing his way through the crowd, and Grady spent thenext hour answering questions. By the time the sheriff had interviewed witnesses and satisfied himself that the attack upon Grady had been unprovoked, the beautiful widow was gone.
    On September 13, 1893, absolute chaos reigned in the town of Guthrie. The line to buy train tickets to the new towns of Enid and Perry, where settlers hoped to claim land, was even longer than the day before. But for reasons he