Part 25 (2/2)
”It's not serious,” Grady said, finally finding his tongue. ”What in the h.e.l.l are you doing here? Don't you ever do anything I say?”
”Not if I can help it,” Storm replied saucily. Pulling his hand away from his ear, she saw that it was indeed a minor injury. Other than losing a fair chunk of his earlobe, he seemed to be unhurt. Tearing a strip from her petticoat, she pressed it to his ear.
From the corner of his eye Grady saw Darnell reach for his gun, which he had thrown to the ground when Storm's buckshot struck him. Reaching out a booted foot, Grady placed it over Darnell's hand and ground it into the dirt. Then he calmly picked up Darnell's gun and shoved it into his belt.
Darnell yelped in pain. ”b.a.s.t.a.r.d! Go ahead and kill me.”
”I'm not going to kill anyone, Darnell. Maybe now you'll realize that I meant what I said. I'm going to let you go. But in doing so I'll expect you to spread the word that the Renegade has laid down his guns for good. Now get the h.e.l.l out of here before I change my mind.”
”How in the h.e.l.l am I supposed to sit my horse with my a.s.s full of buckshot?” Darnell complained.
”I don't care how you do it, just do it. If you don't, I'll turn my wife on you again.”
The insult wasn't lost on Darnell as he shot Storm a fulminating look. Then he turned and limped away, trailing blood behind him. Grady waited until he was out of sight before grasping Storm's shoulders and giving her a little shake. ”Dammit, Storm, what were you thinking? Coming here like this was a foolish thing to do. You're carrying my child, for G.o.d's sake!”
”I'm aware of that,” Storm said with amazing calm. ”That's why I came. I suddenly realized that the father of my child could be killed. Meeting Darnell unarmed was a stupid idea. It struck me that Darnell isn't the kind of man who'd care whether or not you were armed. All I could think of was stopping him from killing you.”
Grady placed an arm around her shoulders and led her toward the street. ”What happened to the woman who abhors violence? I did it for you, you know. If I showed up unarmed, I sincerely thought I could talk Darnell into leaving peacefully.”
”I was wrong, Grady, so d.a.m.n wrong. You can't help it if violence comes looking for you.”
”I don't think it will any more, sweetheart. I feel certain Darnell will spread the word and I'll be left in peace. Let's go home. If I remember correctly we have some unfinished business there.”
”That's what I love about you, Grady. You are most diligent about taking care of unfinished business,” Storm said, her eyes twinkling.
”When the unfinished business involves you, lady, it's pure pleasure.” He wagged his eyebrows and flashed an impudent grin that made her heart beat faster. ”And sweetheart, it's always a pleasure doing business with you.”
”Take me home, Grady,” Storm sighed happily. ”It's time to start the rest of our lives.”
Epilogue.
Guthrie, Oklaholma
1906.
”Hurry, Mama, Papa says Number One is ready to blow!”
Ten-year-old Chad's blue eyes glowed with excitement as he grabbed Storm's hand and dragged her through the kitchen door.
”Chad, I have a pie in the oven. I can't leave now.” Storm laughed at the pure exuberance of her son.
”This is more important than a pie, Mama,” Chad said as he cast frantic glances toward the people gathered beside one of the four tall oil rigs rising like dark specters above the golden fields of ripening wheat.
”Let me take the pie out of the oven first and I'll join you in a few minutes,” Storm said. ”Where's your sister?”
”Tim took her down to Number One when Papa told us the drillers expected the well to come in at any time. She's riding Tim's shoulders and I hope he keeps the little pest from getting in the way.”
”Chad,” Storm chided gently. ”Is that any way to talk about your little sister?” Four-year-old Abby, a small, inky-haired, dimpled darling, was the apple of her father's eye and quite spoiled. Even sixteen-year-old Tim seemed to dote on her, for he carried her around on his broad shoulders whenever he wasn't a.s.sisting Grady on the farm.
”Well, Abby is a pest,” Chad complained. ”She follows me and Tim around like a little puppy.”
”Nevertheless, I'll not have you calling Abby a pest. Tim doesn't seem to mind. You go along. I'll be there directly, as soon as I remove the pie from the oven.”
”Hurry, Mama, Papa wouldn't want you to miss the gusher.” Spinning on his heel, he raced off across the fields.
Storm paused a moment to watch Chad's st.u.r.dy legs eat up the distance between the house and Number One before turning back into the house. Her first born was an inquisitive, eager lad whose blue eyes were a replica of his handsome father's. He resembled Grady, in other ways, except for his hair, which was a deep russet. But while Grady and Tim could never deny their Indian heritage, Chad's features gave little hint of his Sioux ancestry. Little Abby, on the other hand, held great promise of turning into a dark, sultry beauty, with s.h.i.+ning black hair and dark snapping eyes, just like her grandfather, Swift Blade.
Tim was the big brother of the family, so like Grady it was uncanny. At sixteen he was already a man, broad of shoulder, slim of waist, and as dear to her as her own children. In a few months he would leave for Peaceful Valley for an extended stay with his grandparents, Blade and Shannon. Since the ranch would one day belong to Tim, Blade had suggested that the boy spend time with them learning about ranching and horses. Both Storm and Grady would miss him, but not as much as Chad and Abby, who idolized their big brother.
Turning to her task, Storm slid the pie from the oven and set it on the windowsill to cool. Then she removed her ap.r.o.n and hurried out to join the family. She glanced back toward the house once to make certain the pie was in no danger of falling and experienced a tremendous burst of pride. Grady had built her a wonderful house to take the place of the small cabin they had lived in until several years after Chad's birth. Actually, she had been saddened to see the old cabin torn down, but the new house was everything she could have hoped for.
Two stories tall, it boasted four bedrooms, an honest-to-goodness bathroom with plumbing, a dining room, a parlor, and a large, roomy kitchen, with a separate pantry, where all the family took their meals. Grady even had a small study where he could escape when the children became too rowdy. A front porch running the entire length of the house and a back entry to hold boots and winter coats when weather was bl.u.s.tery completed the rambling wooden structure. Grady had built several new outbuildings and hoped to run more cattle when they could afford it. Of course, if the wells came in, they would no longer have to worry about the cash flow.
There had been many lean years since the locusts had devoured their first crop, but undaunted, Grady had replanted and they had prospered. When oil was discovered in Texas, geologists turned their sights on Oklahoma. The very first well came in in 1905, and when Grady was approached by geologists from a large drilling company asking permission to dig exploratory wells on their property, he gave reluctant consent. Results had been so promising, three more wells had been dug. Now, it looked as if their patience was going to be rewarded.
”Storm, the drillers think it's only a matter of minutes before Number One comes in,” Grady cried jubilantly as he spied her hurrying across the field. The entire family was a.s.sembled by the huge derrick in antic.i.p.ation of the big moment. ”If they're right we'll be rich beyond our wildest dreams. The children can go to the best colleges and have all that money can buy.” He held out his arms, and when she rushed into them he pulled her hard against the taut strength of his lean body.
Breathlessly Storm was drawn into the warmth of his embrace, savoring the closeness she shared with the man who had become the great love of her life. Never would she cease to need this special man, to feel his arms around her, making her feel loved and cherished. In the years since he had retired his guns and promised to avoid violence, he had never given her cause to doubt him.
”The children don't need money to be happy,” Storm said, hugging Grady fiercely. ”You have instilled courage in them, given them love, and taught them respect.”
Grady's eyes were suspiciously moist as he gazed down at her. ”And you, wife of my heart, have made our lives special.”
The words were no sooner out of his mouth than an ominous rumble emanated from deep in the bowels of the earth, shaking the ground beneath them.
”Here she comes! Get back everyone, it's going to be a gusher!” one of the drillers cried. Men began scattering in all directions as the rumble grew louder. Grady grasped Storm's hand and pulled her back, shouting for the children to stand clear.
With a mighty roar the top of the derrick seemed to explode as a thunderous spray of dark liquid spewed upward. Storm felt the heavy drops pepper her skin and clothing and looked down, expecting to see thick black sludge. Instead, she saw what looked like muddy water.
”Grady, what is it? It looks like dirty water.”
”Be patient, sweetheart,” Grady cautioned as he kept his eyes glued to the erupting well. Suddenly, he gave a mighty whoop, picked up Storm, and swung her around and around, laughing uproariously. ”Look, Storm, look up!”
Storm's eyes shot upward, and her face was immediately covered with a thick, inky film. She glanced at Grady, and saw that his face was so grimy with black sludge that all she could see were his white teeth and the whites of his eyes. A resounding cheer went up as a tremendous pressure from inside the well shot a stream of oil high into the clear Oklahoma sky, as thick and black as the darkest midnight.
About the Author.
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