Part 12 (2/2)

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 compromise that 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 ch.o.r.es 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 loved her-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 she had 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 rus.h.i.+ng out of her mouth left her stunned. ”My G.o.d, 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 during January and February. By March green tufts of gra.s.s began pus.h.i.+ng through the melting snow and rain nourished the earth with its life-giving abundance. It was the beginning of a new cycle, but to Storm, January and February were the longest two months of her life.

She never realized how much she had come to depend on Grady until he left and she was faced with empty days and desolate nights. He had always appeared to her as bigger than life, a man who feared nothing, except perhaps his own private demons, and faced the challenges of life with fierce purpose. As the first week of March slid by, Storm began to fear that Grady never intended to return, that her impossible demands had forced him to flee. Being made a widow had been a painful shock, but being abandoned brought another kind of pain-that of rejection.

If he came back to her, she'd lie with him willingly, she silently vowed, gladly, sharing her life with him and caring for his child as if he were her own.

She'd make Grady love her.

They would forge a living out of this raw land and learn to live together and love one another. One day Buddy and Summer Sky would become pleasant memories from their pasts.

Foolish dreamer, her mind taunted. Grady is gone and you'll never see him again. You have the land; be satisfied with that.

The land offered little comfort on cold nights when she yearned to feel Grady beside her, willing and eager to share his warmth with her. Why couldn't she be satisfied with the small part of him he gave her instead of wanting all those things he didn't offer?

On one of her trips into Guthrie, Storm learned that Nat Turner had mysteriously left town in December, and she wondered if Grady had had anything to do with his going. Knowing him, she supposed he had. She was grateful she no longer had to deal with the scoundrel. She would thank Grady, if she ever saw him again.

Grady returned unexpectantly one exceptionally warm day in early March. Storm was turning over clods of dirt with a shovel in preparation for planting a backyard vegetable garden when she looked up and saw him standing so close she could reach out and touch him. Never would she become accustomed to the silent way in which he moved. His ma.s.sive frame was clad in buckskins and moccasins; his ebony hair was longer than ever and his face more gaunt. His high cheekbones had hollows beneath them she hadn't noticed before, and the dark circles beneath his eyes made them appear more vivid a blue than she remembered. His intense gaze searched her face, then roamed over her figure. What he saw must have disappointed him for he scowled.

”You came back,” she murmured.

For a moment he looked bewildered. ”Did you think I wouldn't?”

”I-didn't know.”

Suddenly, from the corner of her eye, Storm caught a movement. A small body came hurtling toward them, running as fast as his small legs could carry him. ”Papa, Papa, is this my new home?”

Grady's expression softened as he gazed down at his exuberant son. Little Buffalo was the picture of his father, but without the blue eyes. His skin was golden brown, his eyes dark, his hair blacker even than Grady's. There was a n.o.bleness about the child that proclaimed his proud Indian heritage. One day he would be every bit as handsome and imposing as his father. Storm looked for signs of Summer Sky in the boy and found it in the softness around his chin, the midnight darkness of his eyes.

”This is our homestead, Little Buffalo, and this is your new mother. From now on you will speak only English so that she can understand you. Greet Storm properly, son. She will be caring for you in future.”

Little Buffalo's face grew hostile as he regarded Storm in an insulting manner. ”I don't want a new mother, Papa. I am perfectly happy with Laughing Brook. Why can't she be my mother?”

”Because Laughing Brook belongs on the reservation with her family,” Grady explained patiently, ”and Storm is my wife. Therefore, she will be your mother.”

Little Buffalo kicked viciously at a clod of dirt with his moccasined toe, then peered up at Storm resentfully. ”Why did you marry her? Laughing Brook is much prettier.”

”Little Buffalo!”

”It's all right, Grady,” Storm said, realizing that winning over Grady's son wasn't going to be easy. She dropped to her knees, until she was on the same level with the child. ”I don't want to take your real mother's place, Little Buffalo, 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 subst.i.tutes.

Laughing Brook was laughing happily as she ran to Grady and flung her arms around his neck, babbling in a language Storm a.s.sumed 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 the cabin, 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, her scowl was nearly as ferocious as his.

”Why did you bring her?” Storm asked, still in a state of shock over Grady's arrival with another woman in tow.

”I had no choice,” Grady said. ”Little Buffalo resisted leaving the reservation and I thought it would make his leaving less painful if I brought along Laughing Brook. She is like a mother to the boy and separating them would have been cruel. When he is fully adjusted to his new home and to you I will send Laughing Brook back to her people.”

”How long do you suppose that will be?” Her sarcasm was not lost on Grady.

Grady shrugged. ”I don't know.”

”Weeks? Months? Years? My G.o.d, Grady, can't you see Laughing Brook doesn't like me? She'll poison your son against me if she remains. He already resents me.”

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