A Promise of Thunder

or take away any of the love you feel for Laughing Brook, but I hope we can become good friends.”
    “I don’t remember my real mama,” Little Buffalo retorted sullenly. “I only remember Laughing Brook. I don’t need a mother as long as I have her.”
    “But Laughing Brook isn’t here,” Storm explained gently.
    “Yes, she is,” the boy said with an enthusiastic nod. “Papa brought her along.”
    A probing query came into her eyes as her gaze flew up to search Grady’s face. His eyes were shuttered, his expression dark and unreadable. At the moment only one thought raced through Storm’s mind. Grady had told her that if she wasn’t willing to fill his needs, he’d find someone who would. Had he brought his dead wife’s sister here to be his mistress? Storm’s first glimpse of the lovely Indian maiden rounding the corner of the cabin sent her heart plummeting. The young woman was so beautiful, it hurt to look at her.
    Her sleek black hair danced around her waist as if it had a life of its own and her huge dark eyes appeared enormous in her small golden face. Her lips were generously curved and lush in a way that could only be described as sultry. The ornately beaded deerskin dress and moccasins she wore revealed rather than concealed her tall, voluptuous figure. If Summer Sky had been as lovely as her sister, Storm reasoned, it was no wonder Grady would accept no substitutes.
    Laughing Brook was laughing happily as she ran to Grady and flung her arms around hisneck, babbling in a language Storm assumed was Sioux.
    “We will speak English for Storm’s benefit,” Grady said, unwinding her arms from around his neck. “Little Buffalo must become proficient in that language if he is to survive in the white world.” Then he turned to Storm, saying, “Storm, this is Laughing Brook, my sister-in-law. She has been caring for my son since my wife’s—since Summer Sky’s death. Laughing Brook, this is my wife, Storm. You must help her become acquainted with Little Buffalo, for she is now his mother.”
    Laughing Brook’s smile dissipated into a pout. Her lower lip jutted out belligerently and her eyes glowed with a savage inner fire as they raked over Storm in an insolent manner. “She isn’t much to look at,” she said with a disdainful toss of her head. “Why is she so pale, Thunder?”
    With her face and hands smudged with dirt and her hem dragging in the wet earth, Storm felt and looked like a bedraggled beggar woman compared to the resplendent Indian maiden. But Grady thought she was beautiful and would have said so if Storm hadn’t spoken up in her own defense.
    “My skin has always been naturally pale. And,” she paused and shot Grady a fulminating look, “had I known when to expect
my husband
I would have made myself more presentable.”
    Grady groaned inwardly. He could sense a storm brewing. “Take Little Buffalo inside thecabin, Laughing Brook. I wish to speak with Storm privately.”
    Little Buffalo looked from Laughing Brook to Storm and then to his father. Astute for one so young, he recognized Laughing Brook’s scorn for the white woman his father had married and came to a decision. During the long trip from the reservation, Laughing Brook had filled his head with horror stories about the terrible things white women did to small Indian children, until he hated and feared Storm long before he met her. And now, following Laughing Brook’s example of icy disdain, he squinted up at Storm and said, “I don’t like you. I’ll never forgive you for marrying Papa. He should have married Laughing Brook. It is the custom of the People.”
    Smirking spitefully, Laughing Brook grasped Little Buffalo’s hand and led him away, pleased by her small charge’s lack of respect toward the white woman she had hated on sight. She was unaware of Storm’s dismay and Grady’s dark scowl, but had she been it wouldn’t have mattered in the least. One thing Laughing Brook felt secure in was the love of Little Buffalo. And Little Buffalo was the most important person in the world to Thunder. It wouldn’t be long, Laughing Brook thought gleefully, before Thunder’s white wife was sent packing and she, Laughing Brook, would take her place. It was the way it should have been in the beginning, and would have been if Thunder had followed tribal custom.
    Grady’s scowl darkened as he watched Laughing Brook and Little Buffalo disappear around the corner of the cabin. When he turned back to Storm,