A Promise of Thunder

admitted in his heart that love might be involved in his feelings for Storm, he hated her for what she had done to him. Leaving him when he was weak and vulnerable filled him with frustrated fury, and he knew he could never forgive her. She had callously abandoned him when he was hurt, unconcerned whether or not he would recover.
    Why couldn’t things be like they were during those halcyon days of his youth, when he and Summer Sky, the companion of his heart, had been happy at Peaceful Valley? he wondered despondently. Then, as he had done so many times in the past, Grady’s thoughts turned to his parents, Blade and Shannon, and how deeply he had hurt them by leaving so abruptly and taking his son with him, and remaining out of touch for years. Then and there he made a silent vow to visit Peaceful Valley soon and reacquaint his son with his parents.
    Resolving to banish Storm from his mind, Grady hardened his heart and focused on Tim and the life they would build together in Oklahoma.
    Storm had no idea it would take so long to reach the reservation deep in the Black Hills.So far Dakota Territory was unlike anything she’d ever seen. Its stark beauty was awesome, and she couldn’t help but gawk at the treeless hills, high plateaus, and deep gullies spread out before her. Jumping Buffalo told her the hills were composed of flint, which attracted lightning during fierce storms. Though she was duly impressed by the naked emptiness and raw splendor, she couldn’t help but wonder why the government had banished great numbers of Indians to a barren land so obviously bereft of the necessities to sustain life. It was clearly evident, even to her inexperienced eyes, that the land was hostile to humans. There were no lush grasslands to feed livestock, no rich soil to grow crops, and no small game or buffalo to support life.
    They came upon the reservation abruptly, tucked between two hills. Tepees dotted the ground for as far as Storm could see. Barking dogs heralded their arrival, and the raised voices of children at play drifted to them on the breeze. As they drew closer she could see old men seated cross-legged before the entrances of their tepees, smoking pipes and talking. Though the day was warm, most of those aging warriors were shrouded in blankets, their proud, copper faces deeply lined, their eyes empty. They wore defeat uneasily, and Storm sensed their anger and loss of pride the moment she rode into their midst.
    Storm was appalled by the squalid conditions of the village and silently deplored them.No wonder Grady had turned renegade, she reflected angrily. His father’s People were a dying race, and rather than accept it he had tried to change it, even though he knew it was a lost cause. What truly amazed her was that most white men believed Indians were being adequately cared for by the government, provided with homes, food, and clothes. But Storm could see at a glance that all those suppositions were false. These poor, downtrodden people were thin, gaunt, and sickly beyond belief. Thank God Grady had taken Tim to Oklahoma, where he would grow strong and healthy.
    Jumping Buffalo reined in before a large tepee, dismounted, and helped Storm from her horse. The journey had taken over a week, and her legs were so sore Jumping Buffalo had to steady her before she was able to stand alone. Though the pace Jumping Buffalo set hadn’t been grueling, it was nevertheless brisk and steady. He feared that Sweet Grass would die before he returned.
    “This is my home,” Jumping Buffalo said simply. “Welcome, Storm Stryker. Allow me to greet my wife first. I will summon you when I have prepared her for your arrival.” Turning abruptly, he lifted the flap and entered the tepee.
    Storm watched helplessly as Jumping Buffalo disappeared inside the dark interior. She felt completely alien in this foreign place and wondered what had made her volunteer to come to the reservation to nurse Jumping Buffalo’swife in Laughing Brook’s stead. Storm felt as if everyone in the entire camp was staring at her, and she forced herself to remain calm. She knew Jumping Buffalo would protect her, but she couldn’t help feeling more than a little uneasy.
    “You are not Laughing Brook.” The words were delivered in halting English.
    Storm started violently. She hadn’t heard the young warrior approach and was immediately reminded of Grady, who moved as silently as a cat. The young man was tall and slim—too slim, perhaps—with