"I am called Soars-Like-An-Eagle. Who are you?"

"I am Storm Stryker."

"Storm Stryker," the young brave repeated. Suddenly his face lit up. "You are Storm, wife of Thunder. Where is my friend Thunder? I would like to greet him."

"He didn't come."

Soars-Like-An-Eagle looked puzzled. "Jumping Buffalo was supposed to bring Laughing Brook back with him. Where is she?"

"Laughing Brook couldn't come. I came in her stead."

"White customs are strange indeed," Soars-Like-An-Eagle said, shaking his head. "Why would you leave Laughing Brook with Thunder and travel to the reservation in her place?"

"It's a long story. I have come to care for Sweet Gra.s.s."

"I was expecting Laughing Brook," Soars-Like-An-Eagle said sourly. "It is time she returned to her people. I have offered many horses for the honor of marrying Laughing Brook, and her father has promised to intercede for me."

"You want to marry Laughing Brook?" Storm asked, surprised that Laughing Brook would refuse this handsome young man.

"Many men want Laughing Brook, but she is stubborn and refuses to marry any of us. I suspect she is waiting for Thunder to claim her. That's why I was overjoyed when Thunder returned for Little Buffalo and told us he had married. But I was not pleased that Laughing Brook went to Oklahoma with Thunder. I expected her to return long before now."

Before Storm could form an answer, the tepee flap opened and a grim-faced Jumping Buffalo stepped out, followed by an ancient crone whose lined face dissolved into deeply plowed furrows.

"I have explained to Sweet Gra.s.s that Storm, wife of Thunder, will be caring for her. Though she doesn't understand why Laughing Brook could not come, she welcomes you. Come, I will take you inside now so that Crooked Nose can go home and rest."

Both Crooked Nose and Soars-Like-An-Eagle melted away as Storm bent low to enter the tepee, uncertain what she would find.

Sweet Gra.s.s's wasted form lay on a bed of furs. Despite the stifling heat inside the tepee, she was covered with a blanket. Her eyes were open, and despite the woman's debilitating illness Storm thought she had never seen eyes so gentle or uncomplaining. The thought struck her that Summer Sky must have taken after her mother if she was as sweet and compliant as Grady indicated.

"Welcome, wife of Thunder," Sweet Gra.s.s rasped. "It is good of you to come."

"Since Laughing Brook is unable to come I thought it fitting that I should take her place," Storm said. "Besides, I wanted to come." It came as a shock to Storm that she actually meant what she said. She did want to come with Jumping Buffalo, and she was glad to be of some service to Sweet Gra.s.s, for Grady held both Sweet Gra.s.s and Jumping Buffalo in high esteem.

Sweet Gra.s.s smiled sweetly, then closed her eyes. She slept a great deal during her illness, which worried Jumping Buffalo.

Taking Jumping Buffalo aside, Storm asked, "What is wrong with her? Has the doctor seen her?"

"Sweet Gra.s.s took a fever during the winter, seemed to get better with the coming of warm weather, then suddenly grew worse. As for the doctor, I cannot abide the man the government sends to treat our sick. He is dirty and nearly always drunk. Crooked Nose has been treating Sweet Gra.s.s with medicine concocted from herbs and bark. It is better than anything the doctor can give her."

"I know nothing of medicine," Storm said.

"I ask only that you follow Crooked Nose's instructions. She is old and cannot be here all the time, for there are others who need her services. Everyone on the reservation has sick family members; that is why I had great need of Laughing Brook. It is a daughter's place to care for her mother."

"I will do my utmost to care for Sweet Gra.s.s," Storm said earnestly. "I pray it will be enough."

"It will be enough, wife of Thunder," Jumping Buffalo said solemnly.

Chapter Sixteen.

"Thunder, it is late. Please come inside. I've kept your supper warm."

Grady paused in his work, reluctant to go inside the cabin, where memories of Storm were so strong. The curtains she had hung at the windows, the furnishings they had purchased together, even the scent that lingered on the air in their bedroom combined to make his life empty and unbearable. How could she leave him without so much as a good-bye? He wondered for the thousandth time during the past weeks. Missing Storm proved to be an agony surpa.s.sed only by the death of Summer Sky. And even that sad event had dimmed in his memory when Storm had filled the void left by the death of his young wife.

"Thunder, do you hear me? Why must you work so long and so hard?"

Grady expelled an exasperated breath. Work was his salvation and his solace. From the moment he had returned home after being wounded by Bull he had plunged recklessly into work, disregarding the pain caused by his healing injury and the distinct probability that he could do himself more harm than good by pursuing so active a life after being recently hurt.

The thought that he had allowed himself to become careless still stung. It never would have happened if he hadn't been thinking of Storm's threat to leave him if he dueled with Bull. And not having used his skill with a gun in several months had no doubt contributed to his lack of speed. Of course, learning that his bullet had struck and killed Bull almost instantly had helped relieve his feelings of inadequacy, but did little to ease his anguish over Storm's leaving.

"Thunder, please."

"I'm coming," Grady grumbled once he realized Laughing Brook wasn't going to give him a moment's peace until he returned to the house.

It was becoming much too dark to work anyway. In the weeks since Storm had left he had plunged deeply into backbreaking work. He had built a stable to shelter the horses and store the wagon and was now hard at work on a barn. Not only was hard physical labor good for the soul, but it helped keep haunting memories of Storm at bay.

Grady paused at the back door to wash up in the bucket of water placed there for his convenience before entering the cabin. A small whirlwind hurtled into Grady's arms and he hugged his son tightly.

"Why do you work so hard, Papa?" the little boy asked. "Laughing Brook says you will sicken if you don't rest more."

Grady shot Laughing Brook a quelling look. "Hard work never hurt anyone, son."

"It's late. Laughing Brook and I have already eaten.

"There is plenty left over for your father," Laughing Brook was quick to add. "Sit, Thunder."

Grady bolted down his meal, neither tasting nor savoring the food set before him, though it was tasty enough. These days he ate to nourish his body, finding little enjoyment in the act. Tim sat beside him, chatting about his day while Laughing Brook hovered nearby, ready to cater to Grady's every whim. The moment he was finished he rose abruptly and disappeared into his bedroom. He returned a few minutes later with soap and towel.

"Put Tim to bed, Laughing Brook," he said brusquely. "I'm going to the river to bathe."

Laughing Brook watched Grady leave, her eyes dark with intense longing. Nothing was turning out the way she'd planned. Weeks had slipped by since Storm walked out of Thunder's life, yet he hadn't turned to her in desire as she had hoped. She knew he was aware of her wish to please him in every way, yet he had deliberately kept his distance. He was remote, untouchable and cold. Only to his son did he display the soft side of his nature, and then only fleetingly.

Laughing Brook was at her wit's end. She no longer knew if what she had done was right, for it had made Grady sink deeper into a world of bitterness and silence. If only she could get through to him, she thought desperately. If only she could convince him to accept her into his life. Grady needed the kind of comfort that could only be obtained from a warm, loving woman eager to ease his suffering.

Intuitively Laughing Brook realized that she must take the initiative if she wanted Grady, and an arrested look came over her features. She had waited patiently for Grady to make the first move, but since he continued to ignore her she was forced to take matters into her own hands.

Grady lingered as long as possible at the river. The night was exceptionally warm and the water refreshing after his hard day's labor. His body was sore and stiff, a feeling he had grown accustomed to of late, as his muscles protested being worked without respite. But his muscles weren't the only part of his body that ached. His loins ached with the memory of how wonderful it had felt to thrust himself deep inside Storm's softness. He wanted to be inside her, filling her, moving in and against her, feeling the delicious heat curl through him, burst into flame and consume their bodies. He had been celibate for a long time after Summer Sky's death and had managed to control his urges without undue discomfort. But somehow wanting and needing Storm far surpa.s.sed anything in his experience or memory.

Bitter regret sighed through Grady as he waded from the river, gathered up his soiled clothes, and returned to the cabin wearing only his breechclout. He hoped Laughing Brook had already retired, for he felt too emotionally drained to spar with her. His heart was heavy with the burden he had accepted when he had denied Storm's request to ignore Bull's challenge. He knew then he could lose Storm, but never in his wildest dreams had he imagined she would callously walk away from their relationship without a backward glance. She had too much to lose if she left.

Yet in the end it hadn't mattered. Storm obviously didn't care enough about him or their homestead to work out their differences.

The cabin was dark when he entered. Both beds at the far end seemed occupied, so Grady gave them little more than a cursory glance. When he entered the bedroom he didn't bother lighting a lamp, for the moon was at its fullest and illuminated the room quite adequately. Slipping off his breechclout, he slid between the cool sheets. A curse left his lips when he realized he wasn't alone.

"Dammit, Laughing Brook, what does it take to convince you I am not interested in having you in my bed?"

"I do not believe you, Thunder," Laughing Brook said softly. "You have not had a woman in many weeks. Don't I please you?"

She leaned up on her elbow, and Grady felt the soft flesh of her bare b.r.e.a.s.t.s brush against his chest. He groaned in genuine agony and tried to reach for anger in his weary soul, but could find none. Not for Laughing Brook, who cared for his son without complaint. His anger was directed in another direction, toward a woman who cared so little for him that she had abandoned him when he was sick and helpless.

"I do like you, and you are very pleasing, Laughing Brook. That's why I won't take you to my bed. You are more like a little sister to me than a lover. You played with my own sisters when they were growing up. I feel no special bond with you outside of friendship."

Laughing Brook frowned, trying to make sense of his words. "You need a woman." Her hand slid boldly down his stomach, feeling the muscles jump beneath her fingertips, then lower into the wiry thatch of black between his legs. When her fingers curled around him, he jerked violently. A delighted gurgle bubbled past her lips. "See? I do not lie. You are ready and I am willing. Thunder, why do you resist?"

Why, indeed, Grady thought harshly as his whole body began to tremble beneath her touch. With more restraint than he thought possible, he flung her hand aside. "I already have a wife and I refuse to ruin you. Jumping Buffalo is my friend. I will not violate his trust. I a.s.sume you are still a maiden. Your virginity rightfully belongs to your husband."

"I will be your second wife," Laughing Brook offered. She was growing desperate now, realizing her seduction wasn't working.

"As I have said, a man is allowed only one wife in the white world," Grady explained patiently.

"Storm is no wife to you!" Laughing Brook contended. "She left willingly enough. Is there no white man's law that deals with such things?"

"If Storm wants a divorce, she will have to pursue it," Grady said stubbornly. "Leave me, Laughing Brook, before I do something I will regret."

"You are no warrior," Laughing Brook spat derisively. "A warrior takes what he wants."

"What I want is for you to leave my bed. Now. Your action tonight tells me that it is time you returned to the reservation. I'm sure there are men aplenty waiting for your return. You are very beautiful, Laughing Brook. Any man would be proud to have you for his wife. You deserve better than serving as second wife to a man who would only use you for one purpose."

"If you are the man, then you can use me in any way you please. I love you. I have always loved you."

She slid atop him, rubbing against him like a cat in heat, bringing every part of her body into intimate contact with every part his. Grady grit his teeth and nearly lost the ability to think. He did need a woman. His body burned and ached with that need, so why should he deny himself the gratification Laughing Brook generously offered? The answer was simple. Because he had given his word to Jumping Buffalo to keep his daughter safe, and to break that trust would be to lose his honor. But more importantly, he couldn't make love to Laughing Brook because his need for Storm was so strong it rendered him incapable of bedding another woman.

"Stop that!" Grady grit out, grasping her about the waist and plucking her from atop him. Her flesh was firm, satiny smooth, and warm to his touch, and Grady nearly lost his resolve. "Go back to your bed. Tomorrow I will make provisions for your return to the reservation. And there is something I have been considering for a long time, something to ease my own peace of mind. I want to visit my parents at Peaceful Valley. It is time I made my peace with them and reacquainted them with their grandchild. Perhaps they will find it in their hearts to forgive me for alienating myself from them and seeking a life different from the one they wanted for me."

"Let me go with you, Thunder, please," Laughing Brook pleaded. "It has been many years since I have seen your parents and they were as dear to me as my own. Your sisters were my only playmates."

"I suppose both Dawn and Spring are married now and living with their husbands," Grady said with aching sadness, "and my mother and father are alone at the ranch. I can be there and back before harvest if I start immediately."

"You need me to care for Little Buffalo on the trip," Laughing Brook persisted. "And I would love to see the ranch again." Her voice held a wistful note that tugged at Grady's heart. "I will return willingly to the reservation if you allow me to visit your family first."

"I will take you to Peaceful Valley only if you promise nothing like this will ever happen again," Grady warned sternly. "Another day I might not be in so generous a mood and do something we will both regret."

Laughing Brook swallowed her delighted smile, hoping Grady meant what he said. One day, she vowed, she'd catch Grady at a vulnerable moment, and afterward his conscience would force him to make her his second wife. White man's laws meant nothing to the People, who followed their own rules.

"I will try not to tempt you, Thunder," she promised in a contrite voice. Grady chose to read more into her words than she intended.

"Very well. You may accompany me to Peaceful Valley," Grady said, heaving a sigh of resignation. "We will take the train to Cheyenne and shorten the trip by many days. Go to your bed, Laughing Brook."

He deliberately turned his head as Laughing Brook slipped nude from the bed and padded from the room. Though his mind rejected her utterly, his body wasn't as easily appeased.

When Grady went to town the next day he heard some startling news. He had gone to Guthrie hoping to hire a couple of men to protect his homestead in his absence against predators and speculators like Nat Turner. He was shocked to learn that Nat Turner had been killed by an irate gambler who had caught him cheating in a poker game the previous night. Though it did not solve his immediate need to hire someone to watch the farm in his absence, knowing that Turner was dead eased Grady's fear over leaving his homestead until harvest. He expected a good crop of wheat from the acres he had planted and looked forward to a profitable first year.

Not every homesteader had the same advantage he did, Grady reflected. Some folks were so dirt poor, and wood so scarce, that they were forced to live in caves dug from hillsides that were dark and dirty, though relatively dry. Or they erected houses from clumps of sod cut into brick size. Since sod houses were built above ground they provided more light and ventilation than dugouts, but they always leaked, and rain and windstorms caused great damage. Grady considered himself d.a.m.n lucky to have money available to purchase wood to build a cabin and seed to grow crops.

In the best of times even the elements conspired against the homesteaders. Oklahoma seemed cursed with the worst of all weathers. In the summer rain was infrequent, and the blazing sun scorched and parched crops while gra.s.shoppers and other pesky insects descended and stripped young farms clean of greenery. Plagued alternately by long droughts and sudden gully-washing floods, violent hailstorms and tornadoes, settlers in Oklahoma Territory had to learn to survive hardships of all descriptions. What made the land attractive was the fact that it was free to those with grit and determination, those with hope and dreams, and those who had nothing to which to return.

Grady's luck held when he found a widow and her strapping seventeen-year-old son to stay at the homestead in his absence. Since he no longer needed to worry about Nat Turner causing trouble, Grady felt secure in leaving the farm in the Martins' capable hands. They had been forced to sell their own homestead after the death of Mr. Martin and were hoping to buy a small business in town with the proceeds from the sale of their land. Grady bought train tickets to Cheyenne for the following week and returned home to tell Laughing Brook and Tim of his arrangements.

Grady regretted being unable to take Storm to meet his parents. He knew instinctively that they would like and approve of Storm, but he had no idea where to find her. He had questioned the ticket agent at the train station, but the man swore he hadn't sold a ticket to her. And the owner of the livery had no idea where she had gone after she left the wagon in his care. Grady suspected she had gone back to her family in Missouri and had to forcibly stop himself from going after her. But he had too many responsibilities to go traipsing after a woman who didn't care enough about him to stay long enough to learn if he had survived his bullet wound. Obviously Storm didn't want him and he'd d.a.m.n well better find a way to keep himself from wanting her. But it wasn't going to be easy.

For the third morning in a row Storm rushed from the tepee and spewed the meager contents of her stomach onto the ground a short distance from the village. When she returned Sweet Gra.s.s took her aside and offered her a drink of cool water.

"What is wrong with me, Sweet Gra.s.s?" Storm asked worriedly. "Have I caught your illness?"

Sweet Gra.s.s smiled shyly. After many days and nights of being tenderly cared for by Storm she had come to love Thunder's wife as dearly as she did her own daughter. It was mainly through Storm's efforts that she was recovering from her debilitating illness, and both she and Jumping Buffalo greatly appreciated Storm's dedicated nursing.

"Crooked Nose says my fever isn't catching," Sweet Gra.s.s said, putting Storm's fears to rest. Have you had this sickness before?"

"No, I've rarely been ill in the past," Storm said after careful thought.

Just then Crooked Nose entered the tepee, took one look at Storm's pasty complexion, and smiled broadly. Then she started babbling to Sweet Gra.s.s in the Sioux language. Storm tried to understand, but they spoke too fast for her to decipher from the smattering of the language she had picked up in the weeks she had been living on the reservation.

"What did she say?" Storm asked Sweet Gra.s.s. "Does Crooked Nose know what's wrong with me?"

As if in answer to Storm's query, Crooked Nose nodded sagely.

"Crooked Nose says your ailment is a natural and expected condition in young married women," Sweet Gra.s.s said, stifling a giggle. Her mirth puzzled Storm. Since when was being ill a cause for levity?

"Is it serious?"

"It can be, but it runs its course in nine months."

"Nine months? Why that's-oh no, it can't be! I can't be having a baby. Not now."

"Both Jumping Buffalo and I have noticed changes in you. Crooked Nose says it is so, and she is wise in such matters. Thunder will be pleased to add another child to his family."

Storm gnawed worriedly on her lower lip, aware that having Grady's baby wouldn't change the way he felt about her. He hadn't wanted her before she was going to have his child, and she definitely wouldn't go back to him knowing he'd only want her for the sake of their baby. On the heels of that thought came another. Now that Sweet Gra.s.s was well and Storm's usefulness ended, where would she go? Grady hadn't cared enough about her to come for her and she was determined not to intrude where she was not wanted. On the other hand, there was her land and cattle to consider. She had much to think about during the next days, she concluded, for her own future and that of her unborn child was at stake.

"Jumping Buffalo will escort you back home," Sweet Gra.s.s declared. "I am well enough to manage on my own until he returns with our daughter. I do not know what is wrong between you and Thunder, but the child will heal your troubled souls."

"I fear it will take more than a baby to cure what is wrong between me and Grady," Storm said sadly. "In all these weeks I have heard nothing from him. Perhaps all he ever wanted from me was my homestead. But he can't have it," Storm said fiercely. "I'd sell it before I'd leave it to him."

"Has my daughter caused this conflict between you and Thunder?" Sweet Gra.s.s asked in a concerned voice. "Jumping Buffalo had little to say about your reason for coming here in Laughing Brook's place."

"I won't deny that Laughing Brook is part of the problem, but she isn't what ultimately caused the rift between Grady and me," Storm confided. "I can't live with Grady unless he gives up his violent ways. I begged him not to partic.i.p.ate in that gunfight. I even told him I'd leave him if he did, but he chose to ignore my plea. After he was wounded I changed my mind and would have stayed with him, but he-he didn't want me. He told me to leave."

"That doesn't sound like Thunder," Sweet Gra.s.s observed with a frown. "Perhaps you were mistaken."

"There was no mistake," Storm said bitterly. "If a mistake was made, he would have come to the reservation and told me so. I left a note telling him where I could be found."

Sweet Gra.s.s grew thoughtful. "What will you do? You are welcome to stay here with us for as long as you like, but the reservation is no place for a white woman unaccustomed to our ways. Winters are hard, and many of us do not survive. It is especially difficult for babies and small children. If not for Thunder's father, we would have starved long ago. Each winter and summer he sends us food, blankets, and clothing."