Laughing Brook searched Storm's expressive face, gleefully antic.i.p.ating her reaction. It was everything she could have hoped for. "I won't stay where I'm not wanted," Storm said. "I will honor Grady wishes."

"Where will you go?"

"I don't know, but I'll think of something. I have a room at the hotel. You and Tim are welcome to it. It's paid for until the end of the week. By then Grady should be ready to go home. Tell him-tell him-" Her words fell off. What could she say to a man who didn't want her? That she loved him? That she had never really wanted to leave him? That she had only wanted him to understand how much she deplored violence?

"I think it best that you do not see Thunder again," Laughing Brook said. "It will only upset him. I will care for him quite diligently."

"I'm sure you will," Storm said dryly.

Chapter Fifteen.

The heavy weight of rejection rested heavily on Storm's shoulders as she walked away from Grady. During those few moments before sundown when she had rushed out of the hotel, she began to realize just how much Grady meant to her. Hearing him tell her to go away had been a shattering experience. She'd expected him to be angry at her for leaving, but she had hoped he'd realize she was forced to act as she had because she had as much pride as he. How foolish she had been to think she could persuade Grady to mend his ways or be reasonable about her request. But Grady Stryker was a man with little patience or forgiveness in his barren heart.

Rushing out the door of the doctor's surgery, Storm nearly stumbled over Tim's small form crouched on the porch steps. When the boy saw her he jumped to his feet and hugged her fiercely, his little arms barely reaching around her legs.

"Is Papa all right, Storm?" he asked anxiously. "May I please see him? Laughing Brook told me to stay outside until she sent for me."

Smiling through her tears, Storm knelt and gathered the child in her arms. "Your papa is going to be fine, Tim. He is beginning to wake up. I'm sure he'll be pleased to see you."

Tim's face was radiant. "I was so afraid," he choked out as he tried so hard to be brave. "Where are you going? You're not going to leave Papa while he's sick, are you?"

Bitter anguish clouded Storm's face. "It's what your father wants, Tim. But perhaps I won't go far and we can still see one another occasionally."

"It's not what Papa wants!" Tim denied fiercely. "He told me he married you because he wanted to, and Papa doesn't lie."

The child's words added fuel to Storm's distress. Grady was ordinarily a very truthful man. She knew he wasn't lying when he told her he wanted her to leave.

"I know how anxious you are. Why don't you go inside and see your father now. Tell Laughing Brook-tell her I'll trade the wagon for the horse she rode to town. She'll find it at the livery. She'll need it to carry your father back home." Without waiting for a reply, she turned abruptly, mounted the horse hitched to the railing, and rode away. It was the most difficult thing she'd ever done.

Storm stopped at the hotel first, where she informed the clerk that Laughing Brook and Tim would be occupying her room. Then she quickly packed her clothes and left the room. Once in the street she attached the valise to the saddle and stood beside the horse, deep in thought. She hadn't the slightest notion where she was going or what she should do. It came to her suddenly that the cattle feeding on the lush gra.s.s growing on their land belonged to her. She had purchased them with the remainder of Buddy's money, and Grady had insisted that they be treated as her property alone.

If she sold half the herd, she might have enough money to rebuild her cabin on the land she had homesteaded. The deed had been changed to show that her name was now Storm Stryker, but legally the land was still hers. Something else Grady had insisted upon. As long as they were married, it wasn't necessary to divide the land into what belonged to her and what was Grady's, but since Grady no longer wanted her as his wife she felt justified in taking what was hers. Her mind settled, Storm mounted and reined the horse toward the homestead. Since no one would be occupying the cabin while Grady mended in town, she felt safe in staying there.

Storm's mind went in many directions during the ride to the cabin, but her decision never wavered concerning her reluctance to return to Missouri. She had nothing to look forward to in Missouri but a bleak existence. Buddy's parents would certainly blame her for his untimely death, and her own parents, though they loved her dearly, didn't need another child to shelter or feed. She had much to think about, Storm decided as the cabin came into view. She and Grady were as separate as two humans could be, and her future depended on her ability to survive through adversity.

Briefly, she considered selling her quarter section of land to Nat Turner and settling farther west, in Wyoming or Montana. But the thought of Turner making a profit off the land she had won was abhorrent to her. And Grady would be livid.

It was dusk when Storm dismounted and unfastened her valise from the saddle. She spent a few minutes unsaddling the horse and rubbing him down before carrying her valise into the house. Lengthening shadows created dancing specters in the corners of the dark room as she opened the door and stepped inside. Dropping the valise beside the door, she went directly to the table to light the lamp. Suddenly she froze, feeling the hackles rise on the back of her neck. Her senses told her she wasn't alone, and every nerve recoiled at the thought.

"Who's there?" she called out, whirling to face the unseen foe.

"I will not hurt you, wife of Thunder."

Storm sucked in a shaky breath. "Who are you?"

A man stepped out of the shadows. Dressed in buckskins, his tall, muscular form was painfully thin, creating an illusion of fragile strength. His moccasined feet were noiseless on the wooden floor as he moved to where Storm could see him clearly. His braided hair was no longer black but generously streaked with gray. His dark face was creased, his brow deeply furrowed, his eyes sharp and a.s.sessing. Storm recognized a commanding strength in his aging body; the same unyielding strength she found in Grady. At first she thought the man was Grady's father, but she had a.s.sumed that Blade Stryker no longer dressed like an Indian or followed their customs.

"I am Jumping Buffalo, father of Laughing Brook. I have come for my daughter. Her mother has great need of her."

Storm allowed herself to relax, realizing this man would not hurt her. "Laughing Brook is not here. She and Tim are in Guthrie with Grady. Grady has been shot."

Jumping Buffalo turned his dark gaze on her. "Why are you not with your husband? Are my daughter and grandson all right?"

"They're fine, Jumping Buffalo. Laughing Brook stayed in town to care for Grady until he can be brought home. He was shot defending himself against one of the men who-who-caused Summer Sky's death."

Jumping Buffalo's stoic features gave away nothing of what he was feeling, yet Storm could tell her words gave him enormous satisfaction. "It is not like Thunder to allow himself to become careless. Am I to a.s.sume the other man is dead?"

Storm nodded. "Not only is Bull dead, but so are the other two men who were with him that day in Cheyenne. They were killed in a bank robbery."

Jumping Buffalo's nostrils flared and his eyes glowed darkly with pleasure. "It is as it should be. Summer Sky's spirit is at peace now and Thunder's soul will no longer be troubled. I will take my daughter home with me. It is not her place to care for your husband."

Suddenly Storm became very busy as she struck a match and lit the lamp, flooding the room with light. Then, because she intuitively knew Jumping Buffalo would see through her lie, she faced him squarely and said, "Grady prefers Laughing Brook. He doesn't need me."

Jumping Buffalo searched Storm's face, her expression revealing all the anguish she was suffering. "I am sorry that my daughter has interfered in your life. It is good that I have come for her. Times are hard and food is scarce on the reservation, but her mother is ill and needs her."

"Do not blame your daughter, Jumping Buffalo. Oh, I'll not deny that jealousy wasn't involved, but Laughing Brook is not the cause of the trouble between me and Grady. Our problem is much more complex. I cannot abide the violent life Grady lives. My first husband died because of a senseless act of violence, and I cannot bear to see Grady killed in the same way. I told him I'd leave him if he engaged in a gunfight with Bull, and he chose vengeance over me. I can't live that way."

"Thunder did what his pride demanded. He is wounded. Would you leave him when he is helpless?"

"I was given no choice," Storm said stonily. "It's what Grady wants. I'll abide by his wishes."

"I am sorry for both you and Thunder," Jumping Buffalo said slowly, "but it doesn't change my decision to take Laughing Brook back to the reservation with me. Sweet Gra.s.s needs Laughing Brook to care for her, and I will not return without my daughter."

"Laughing Brook must care for Tim while Grady is recovering," Storm said.

"I will take my grandson back to the reservation with me," Jumping Buffalo decided.

"No! You can't do that. Grady needs Tim here with him."

"I will do what must be done," Jumping Buffalo said philosophically. "I will leave now."

"No, wait!" Storm cried in sudden inspiration. Jumping Buffalo stared at her curiously, waiting for her to continue. "Let me go with you in Laughing Brook's place. I will care for Sweet Gra.s.s so Laughing Brook can remain here to care for Grady and Tim."

It seemed perfectly logical, Storm thought, since Grady didn't want her and she really had no place to go for the time being. If she quietly disappeared from his life for a short time, he might come to his senses about her. And if she left a note telling him where to find her, perhaps he would come after her.

Jumping Buffalo wore a stunned look. "You would do that? You must love Thunder a great deal. The reservation is not a pleasant place. It offers little luxury for a white woman unaccustomed to hardship. If not for the beeves and food my good friend Blade Stryker sends me, we would have starved long ago. He is aware that I have been caring for our grandson these many years and did not wish for him to starve."

"Grady's father knew that Grady and Tim were living on the reservation?" Storm said, more than a little surprised.

"Blade and Shannon both know and were deeply hurt by Thunder's refusal to see them. But they have abided by his wishes in hopes that he will relent one day and bring their grandson to visit them."

"Grady is deeply ashamed of his a.s.sociation with renegades," Storm said defensively. "He fears his parents won't find it in their hearts to forgive him."

"He is wrong. But who can tell a hotheaded young man what is right and what is wrong? It is something he must learn himself. He also must learn what is important in his life."

Storm shifted restlessly as Jumping Buffalo's keen eyes seemed to probe into her very soul. "Will you take me with you?" she asked, suddenly apprehensive. "If your wife is very ill, we shouldn't waste time."

"I think Thunder has made an unwise decision. I love my daughter, but I know her faults. You must love Thunder and Little Buffalo deeply to be willing to sacrifice your own happiness because of Thunder's stubbornness. Yes, Storm, wife of Thunder, I will take you with me. But only because you wish it and Thunder needs time to come to his senses. We will leave at dawn." He turned to leave.

"Wait! You may sleep in Tim's bed if you'd like."

"I will sleep on the ground. My bones may be growing old, but they are unaccustomed to the softness of a mattress. Thank you, wife of Thunder. I will return at dawn."

Storm was up long before dawn, packing food and other essentials for their lengthy journey. When Jumping Buffalo arrived she was writing a note to Grady, telling him where to find her should he so desire. Jumping Buffalo nodded his approval as she placed the note on the pillow in their bedroom, where Grady was sure to find it. She glanced back only once as she rode away with Jumping Buffalo, to take one last look at the cabin where she and Grady had been happy together for such a brief time.

Grady felt as if his body was on fire. Fingers of stinging heat radiated from his left side, where he was heavily bandaged. A groan of pain slipped past his lips as he tried to move.

"No, don't move." The voice was sweet, low and female. Storm? he wondered groggily. He recalled waking up during the night, asking for water and seeing Storm, her eyes clouded with concern, bending over him. He spoke her name aloud.

"No, it is Laughing Brook. I will care for you, just like it was always meant to be."

Grady frowned as the haze slowly lifted from his eyes and he saw Laughing Brook bending over him. Shifting his gaze, he searched the room. Tim stood slightly behind Laughing Brook, looking anxious. Grady tried to smile at the boy, but his lips twisted into a grimace of pain. Searching restlessly, he saw that except for him the room held only two other people. He knew he hadn't been dreaming when he saw Storm earlier. Had she stepped out for a moment?

Suddenly Laughing Brook's puzzling words penetrated the fuzziness of his brain and his eyes shifted back to the Indian maiden. "What do you mean? Where is Storm? I saw her here earlier. Has something happened to her?"

"Now is not the time to speak of your white wife."

"Now is a perfect time," Grady said weakly. "Tell me, I want to know."

"Storm is gone," Laughing Brook crowed delightedly.

"Gone? Gone where?"

Laughing Brook shrugged expansively. "Does it matter? She no longer wishes to be your wife. She packed her clothes and left."

Grady's brow furrowed in painful concentration. "But I distinctly recall her being here with me."

"She was here for a short time only," Laughing Brook admitted with marked reluctance. "She stayed with you briefly, until I arrived in Guthrie to take care of you. She abandoned you, Thunder. You need a woman who will bow to your wishes and be submissive to you in all things. I am that woman, Thunder. I will not leave you and Little Buffalo."

A pain far greater than that caused by his wound brought a groan to Grady's lips. Storm's desertion brought him a new kind of anguish. How could she abandon him when he needed her? he wondered, clearly distraught. How could she leave him and Tim without telling them where she was going or what she intended to do? Suddenly a thought came to him, and he motioned Tim forward.

"Did you speak to Storm before she left, son?"

"Yes, Papa," Tim acknowledged.

"Tell me what she said."

"She said she had to leave."

"Did Storm say where she was going?"

Tim shook his head. "I asked her to stay, but she wouldn't."

Laughing Brook watched hope die in Grady's eyes and was jubilant. Now Thunder couldn't send her home, she thought gleefully. He needed her, not just to care for his son but for his own sake. It wouldn't be long, she told herself, before she'd become a permanent part of his life. She'd loved Thunder even before he married her sister, but at the time she was too young to do more than look at him with yearning. Now she was a woman, with a woman's needs and a woman's cunning. She would nurse Thunder back to health with all the tenderness in her woman's heart and he would come to love her as he once loved her sister. It was meant to be.

After that Grady refused to speak of Storm, not even to the doctor, who questioned him about his wife's absence. In a week he was strong enough to return to the homestead. Before he left he visited the bank and learned that Storm hadn't withdrawn any funds from their account, nor did she have any money of her own. That bit of knowledge not only worried but puzzled him. Where could she have gone without funds? A visit to the hotel drew a blank when he learned Storm hadn't been seen in a week. He found it difficult to believe she'd leave her homestead without demanding some sort of payment for her half.

But then he'd never thought Storm would actually leave him. By the time Laughing Brook picked him up in the wagon, Grady was exhausted and ready to go home to the cabin. He even consented to lie in the wagon bed, cushioned by blankets and pillows the doctor had generously offered for the jarring ten-mile ride home.

Laughing Brook couldn't recall when she'd been so happy. Life with Thunder would be good, she reflected. Much better than living on the reservation, ravaged by sickness and hunger. Remaining at the homestead with Thunder was a much better solution than trying to persuade him to return to the reservation with her, she decided. To Laughing Brook Thunder would always be a mighty warrior, and though she preferred that Thunder live with the People, perhaps his way was the best after all. Her father had told her that the days when the People roamed free were gone forever and that she should adapt to the white man's ways. Once Thunder become a prosperous farmer her life would be good. Yes, she decided happily. Everything she'd ever wanted was finally within her grasp.

Both Tim and Grady were dozing in the wagon when they reached the cabin. Deciding not to awaken them, she jumped lightly to the ground and entered the cabin, going directly to the bedroom, where she turned the bed down in preparation for Grady. She spied the note Storm left immediately. Since she could neither read nor write English, she slipped it under the mattress, intending to get rid of it later. She had no inkling what Storm had written to Grady, but decided that any kind of correspondence from Storm meant trouble for her. She had just turned away from the bed when Grady and Tim, refreshed from their nap, entered the bedroom.

"What are you doing?" Grady asked curiously.

"Turning down the bed," Laughing Brook informed him. "You'll want to rest before dinner."

"I've had sufficient rest," Grady returned shortly. "There's no time for dawdling on a productive farm. I have crops to see to and animals to tend."

"But you're not well enough yet!" Laughing Brook cried. "I will do what needs to be done."

"Don't coddle me, Laughing Brook. See to Tim. I can take care of myself. Leave me, I wish to change clothes."

Giving him a sulky glance, Laughing Brook sidled from the room. Once she was gone Grady immediately went to the wardrobe he had purchased for Storm. The doors stood slightly ajar and he pushed them open. It was empty. The drawers in the bureau were similarly bereft of clothing, and for the first time since being wounded the full impact of Storm's leaving hit him sqarely. He had already suffered the pain of rejection but wasn't prepared for the explosion of raw anger that surged through him.

Why had he made a fool of himself by letting Storm become indispensable to him? There was a tremendous war of emotions raging inside Grady. He could no longer deny his feelings. What he felt for Storm went beyond the youthful love he once felt for Summer Sky. When he was with Storm, making love to her, holding her, something deep inside him reached out and touched something deep inside her. He remembered every sweet, lush curve of her body and how perfectly the two of them fit together.

Yet even as he 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 gra.s.slands 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 G.o.d 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 Gra.s.s 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's wife 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 shiny black hair, dark fathomless eyes, and a muscular build. He wore stained buckskins that had seen better days.

"I-who are you?"