A Promise of Thunder

felt the heavy weight of her rejection. He also felt the suffocating disappointment of having broken his promise. How in the hell did he know Storm was sleeping and wasn’t aware that he was making love to her? To make matters worse, he knew he would break his word again and again, until he could no longer bear Storm’s hatred. Remaining in the same house with her was impossible.
    “Storm, I thought it was what you wanted.” His words, meant to be an apology, sounded cold and unfeeling to her. Once again he had succeeded in dominating her with his strength and sensuality. “I had no idea you were sleeping.” He touched her shoulder and she jerked violently.
    “You’re a damn liar, Grady Stryker.”
    Since Grady had no answer to her bitter accusation, he remained mute. He had many things to think about, many decisions to make. Storm had fallen asleep before he reached a compromisethat he thought would make Storm happy and keep him from breaking his word again. He arose from bed and dressed in his warmest clothes, packed his saddlebags and bedroll, took his guns and bullets, and quietly left the house.
    He returned just before dawn, found a pencil and paper, and scribbled a hasty note, leaving it on his pillow, where Storm was sure to find it. He paused at the door before stepping outside, gazing at Storm’s sleeping form with such longing it plumbed the very depths of his heart. His eyes were as bleak as the Oklahoma winter. The last thing he did before closing the door behind him was to pick up the snowshoes he had purchased in town and tuck them under his arm.
    Storm awoke late the next morning. The fire had gone out during the night and the cabin was freezing. It was the first time since marrying Grady that she could recall waking up to a cold room. He was always so good about doing all those little chores that added comfort to her life. Then she remembered last night and how he had made love to her against her will and all the anger and resentment returned.
    Grady was making it extremely difficult for her to remain true to Buddy’s memory, and she didn’t know how much longer she could go on like this. She had asked for time to bring herself to accept marriage to another man and Grady’s answer was to seduce her time after time. The man was a savage who trampled her feelings beneath his masculinity. If he lovedher—Dear Lord, what was she thinking? Storm wondered, surprised that she’d even want the love of a man like Grady Stryker.
    The cabin appeared deserted; usually she could sense Grady’s presence, but this morning there was nothing to indicate that he was nearby. Peering cautiously over the edge of the blanket, Storm realized that she was indeed alone. Where had Grady gone, she wondered. There was enough wood piled against the house to last the winter and it was too cold outside to do much else. Unless he had gone hunting. Finding no excuse to lie abed, she dressed hurriedly and built a fire in the hearth. She didn’t find the note until she returned to make the bed.
    Grady was gone. He had left her to go to the reservation for his son. He would return in time for spring planting. The cold, carefully worded note went on to say that he had put the runners on the wagon so she could travel to town for supplies and that she could draw money from his bank account, for he had put her name on the account the day they were married. There were no words of affection, no apology or good-bye, no explanation for his sudden departure in the middle of winter. Did he miss his son so much or did he merely want to escape from a marriage he found distasteful?
    “I hate you, Grady Stryker,” Storm shouted into the emptiness of the cabin. “I hate you …” Suddenly seized by panic, she realized she was alone, living in as near a wilderness as shehad ever seen in her life. Yet not too many weeks ago, after Buddy’s tragic death, she had been perfectly content to homestead alone. Had marriage to Grady changed her so much? she wondered bleakly. The next words that came rushing out of her mouth left her stunned. “My God, Grady, what am I going to do without you?”

Chapter Eleven
     
    The winter of 1894 in Oklahoma Territory was a mild one compared to previous years. After the bitter cold of December 1893, the rest of the winter lost its bite. The river continued to flow, and Storm was able to draw water with little difficulty. The wood Grady had cut before he left was more than adequate for her needs