"I will guard her with my life." Soars-Like-An-Eagle's promise was p.r.o.nounced with such pa.s.sion Grady knew he had nothing to worry about. "She may already be with child."

If Soars-Like-An-Eagle's words shocked Grady, he gave no sign of it. Despite all the problems the girl had caused him and Storm, Grady felt that Laughing Brook would make a wonderful wife and mother to Soars-Like-An-Eagle's children. He was glad they would live at Peaceful Valley instead of on the reservation, where survival was a constant struggle.

Storm was ecstatic when she heard about Laughing Brook and Soars-Like-An-Eagle. Nothing stood in the way now of attaining the kind of happiness she had always dreamed about. She wasn't going to delve into the method Soars-Like-An-Eagle used to convince Laughing Brook that he was the man for her, but she'd be forever grateful to the young brave. And since they no longer had to make a detour to the reservation they could ride in comfort to Guthrie on the train.

Shannon and Blade accompanied them to the train station two days later. It was a sad parting, but one filled with renewed hope for the future. Grady was no longer a renegade Indian obsessed with revenge. Nor was he the mysterious drifter who hated white men and used his guns to prove it. He was Grady Stryker. Husband, father, farmer.

Tim was excited as the train approached Guthrie. But not as excited as Storm. Since their marriage she and Grady hadn't been alone more than a few days. She looked forward with relish to her own household, with just Grady and Tim to occupy her days and nights. And the new baby, when it came, would make their life complete.

The train traveled through land lush with ripening wheat, and Grady hoped his own acres were faring half as well. The golden stalks appeared to be reaching out to the sun, their heads bobbing in the breeze. In a very short time he could begin harvesting. If this year's crop was as good as expected, he'd soon be able to build Storm the kind of house she deserved. Grady couldn't recall when he'd been so happy.

"We're here!" Tim cried as the train pulled into the station in Guthrie only an hour behind schedule. Grady had been gone but two weeks, but Storm had been away over two months, and in that short time things had changed. There were several new businesses in town, a new church, and three new saloons.

"I left the wagon at the livery," Grady said as they joined the pa.s.sengers leaving the train. "We'll stop for supplies first, then head out to the homestead. I hope the Martins fared well in my absence."

"They're the people you left in charge, aren't they?" Storm asked curiously. Grady had told her how lucky he considered himself to find someone trustworthy to take care of things in his absence.

"Yes, Mabel and her son Clem. They were forced to sell their own homestead when the elder Martin died. I'd like to ask them to stay on and help out, but our house is too small to shelter two more people. They spoke of opening a business in town, but I got the feeling their hearts were set on farming."

"Perhaps something can be worked out," Storm mused thoughtfully.

After two stops, one at the general store and the other at the bank, Grady aimed the wagon toward the homestead. When they reached the outer borders of their land his heart swelled with pride at the sight of tall stalks of wheat bending in the gentle breeze. He hadn't been able to plant all his and Storm's combined acres, but enough had been cultivated to a.s.sure them a good yield. And as added protection for their investment, there were still Storm's cattle to fall back on if the crop, for some unforeseen reason, failed. But from the looks of the healthy plants there would be no reason for failure.

Grady had sent a telegram ahead giving the date and approximate time they could be expected, and Mabel Martin had cooked a veritable feast in honor of their return. While Grady, Tim, and Storm devoured the meal, Clem and Mabel packed their belongings. Storm thought she saw a lingering sadness when Mabel looked around the snug cabin one last time.

"You've done a wonderful job looking after the farm, Mrs. Martin," Storm said sincerely. "Grady was lucky to have found you and your son."

"Please call me Mabel. It was a pleasure, Mrs. Stryker. Farming is really all we know, but when Hal died we had no money to support our farm. Clem worked hard, but our land isn't as good as yours, and he wasn't able to cultivate enough acres to make us a living. We sold out to a speculator for half what the land was worth. I'd give anything if we had a place like this," Mabel added wistfully.

"I have a suggestion," Grady offered. "As you know, Storm homesteaded the quarter section of land adjacent to mine before we were married. Her cabin was burned down by hired gunmen, but the well is still intact. I could rent part of the acreage to you and Clem, and as payment Clem could work for me part time and you could help out Storm, since she's expecting our first child. The only drawback is the lack of living quarters."

Mabel's brown eyes glowed with excitement as she mulled over Grady's offer. "What do you think, son?" she asked as Clem came up to stand beside her. Clem was a big, strong lad of seventeen who had plenty of brawn but lacked direction. That was one of the reasons they'd had to sell their farm. The boy needed someone to tell him what to do.

"It's better than living in town, Ma," Clem said. "I don't think I'd make a good shopkeeper. I'm not even sure we could afford to start a business with the money we got for the homestead. But we do have enough money to build a cabin if we rent land from Grady," Clem added, warming to the subject.

"It would be wonderful having another woman close by," Storm said, her eyes shining. Leave it to Grady to come up with a solution that served everyone concerned.

"Then it's settled," Mabel said, offering her hand to Grady to seal the deal.

"Take the wagon back to town," Grady offered. "I'll help build your cabin when you return with the material. Your help on the farm will be welcome, Clem. From the looks of the wheat, it will be ready for harvesting in a few days."

Storm couldn't recall when she'd been so content. Grady and Clem had worked tirelessly to erect the large, one-room cabin that would shelter the Martins. When it was completed Clem drove the wagon to town to pick up their furnishings, which had been stored in an empty warehouse after they moved from their homestead. Storm helped Mabel sew curtains. Mabel was thrilled with the results and expressed her grat.i.tude for being given the opportunity to live where she and Clem would be happy doing the kind of work they enjoyed.

A couple of days later Grady went to town and returned the proud owner of a combine. Storm was dismayed, realizing that such a machine must be terribly expensive.

"Grady, where did you get the money to purchase such a machine," Storm asked, eyeing the contraption with a hint of misgiving. "Did you borrow the money from your father?"

"I didn't pay for it yet, sweetheart. I borrowed the money from the bank on the strength of our crop. It's done all the time. I'll pay for it when I sell our wheat."

"What if something happens to the crop?" Storm asked worriedly.

"Nothing is going to happen, sweetheart," Grady said, pulling her into his arms. "How is the baby today?" His hand rested on the bulge of her stomach, then slid upward to graze her breast.

"Grady Stryker, don't change the subject!" Storm said, slapping his hand aside. "The baby is getting bigger every day, as you well know."

"Where is Tim?" Grady asked, looking around for his son.

"He's helping Clem today. Mabel promised to bake him some cookies."

"Are we alone? If we are, I have a wonderful suggestion on how to spend our afternoon." His caress grew more insistent.

Storm laughed. "Grady-" Suddenly she went still, c.o.c.king her ear toward a sound she couldn't identify. "What is that?"

Grady heard it too. The sound was distinctive, like a steady drone that grew louder and louder. Then the sun seemed to disappear as the sky darkened. The noise was deafening now, and an enormous cloud blotted out the sun. Only it wasn't a cloud. It was- "My G.o.d! Locusts!"

Chapter Twenty.

Storm stared at the ominous sky with growing apprehension. She had heard of locusts, but she wasn't aware that they appeared in great hordes of tens of thousands, winging across the sky like a harbinger of disaster. When the solid ma.s.s of destruction swooped down from the sky toward the ripe stalks of wheat, Storm realized why Grady had become so distraught. Abruptly the droning buzz of insects on the wing changed to a chomping sound produced by scores of insects feasting on their crops.

"Grady, can't we do something? They're eating our wheat!"

Racing to the shed, Grady s.n.a.t.c.hed a wide shovel and ran toward the fields. "I don't know if it will help, but I'm going to kill as many of the b.a.s.t.a.r.ds as I can."

Feeling helpless, Storm grabbed a broom from the doorstep and followed. She recoiled in horror when she suddenly stood amid thousands of insects relentlessly advancing from stalk to stalk, methodically devouring every grain of wheat in their path. When Grady started wielding the shovel, Storm followed suit. Soon Clem, Mabel, and Tim joined them, using whatever was handy to swat at the voracious insects. But the more they swatted and stomped, the faster they came, until Storm's arms felt like lead, her legs wooden.

She cried out in horror when she felt the grayish-green insects crawling up her dress and clinging to her limbs. They gathered in her hair, skin, and clothing until Storm felt a suffocating blackness steal over her. The breath squeezed from her lungs and she swayed drunkenly. From the corner of his eye Grady saw Storm stagger, and he let out a cry as he flung down the shovel and leaped to her aid. Brushing the insects from her face and clothing, he scooped her up in his arms and raced toward the house.

"Mabel!" he called over his shoulders. "Take Tim inside!" Tim's small body was covered with so many locusts he was barely recognizable.

"Stay inside," Grady said gruffly as he deposited Storm just inside the door. "There's nothing more we can do. When they've destroyed the crops they'll move on to neighboring fields."

"Oh, Grady, I can't bear it!" Storm wailed. "All our crops, everything we've worked so hard for. What will we do?"

"Don't worry, sweetheart, we'll survive somehow," Grady said grimly. Then Mabel arrived with Tim, and Grady left to continue his losing battle with the locusts.

Storm watched from the window, wringing her hands and fretting. How were they to survive with their crop destroyed? It didn't even help to know that all the homesteaders in the area were suffering the same fate. Before the scourge was over not a field for miles around would be left unscathed. No wonder so many homesteaders gave up, selling their land to speculators or losing it outright when taxes came due and no money was available to pay them.

By nightfall the destruction was complete. Around dusk Grady and Clem returned to the house. All they had managed to save was the vegetable garden. Grady's face was grim, his eyes bleak. They sat down to a silent, dismal meal. After the dishes were done the Martins returned home. Storm put Tim to bed while Grady stood in the open doorway, his eyes sweeping across the golden stubble that had once been abundant fields of grain. After she tucked Tim in, Storm joined him.

"How will we survive?" She was thinking of their new baby and the burden another mouth to feed would place on Grady.

"We could sell your land," Grady suggested. "Speculators are buying up large tracts. There is talk that rich deposits of oil lie beneath the surface. Drillers are already predicting success in Texas."

"You can't sell the land-you've just rented part of it to the Martins. They'll be devastated if they have to leave. They've spent the last of their money building their cabin."

"With no crop to harvest, there will be little work for Clem. Thank G.o.d for the cattle. I've already been out to check on them and they're prospering. Tomorrow Clem and I will round them up and count the calves. Fortunately, there have been many new births this year. We can sell the older cows to the army and keep the calves and bull. We'll get by, sweetheart, and if we're careful there will be enough left over for seed next year." He turned to smile at her. "If you hadn't insisted on those cattle we'd be in a h.e.l.l of a mess right now."

"What about the Martins?"

"I'll start paying Clem a small salary in addition to the free rent. I was going to offer him a share of the profits from the wheat, but now he'll have to make do with a salary. There's always the vegetable garden for our immediate needs."

"You could ask your father for help," Storm said. "I know he'd be glad to lend you enough money to get by on until another crop can be planted."

"This is something I have to do myself," Grady said stiffly. "I'd feel less of a man if I couldn't support my family through my own efforts. I'll turn to Dad for help only as a last resort. I'd never let my family starve. Come to bed, sweetheart. I need you tonight. I don't think I've ever needed you more."

Turning into his embrace, they kissed with a need born of desperation. With their mouths still joined, Grady picked her up and carried her into their bedroom. He undressed her slowly and made love to her with such loving tenderness that when he finished there were tears in her eyes.

"I love you so much, Grady," she said on a shaky sigh.

"Oh, lady, you make me feel ten feet tall. I know I'll never measure up to Buddy, but I don't ever want you to have regrets about marrying me."

"Buddy is just a dim memory from my past. You're my life, my love, my future."

Grady hugged her tightly. "I hope I never give you reason to change your mind."

The combine was returned two days later. With the crop destroyed they would have no need of such a machine. Storm knew Grady hated to part with it, but if they had a crop next year they could think about purchasing one then. When Grady returned from Guthrie he was full of news.

"There isn't a field left intact anywhere in the Cherokee Strip. Speculators in town are doing a booming business buying up homesteads from dest.i.tute owners. Nat Turner may no longer be around, but other men like him have arrived to take his place. It's a d.a.m.n shame that good farmers are placed at the mercy of unscrupulous men because of a swarm of locusts. Next year it could be a drought, or excessive rain, or any one of a dozen natural disasters. I tell you, sweetheart, it's a d.a.m.n miracle any homesteaders survive."

Grady and Clem began the tedious job of rounding up the cattle from the surrounding hills and driving them down to graze on the stubble left behind by the locusts. Grady was overjoyed to find that the herd had nearly doubled in size due to the large number of calves born during the spring and summer. Days later, when he heard that the army was in Guthrie buying cattle for the surrounding forts, he informed Storm that he was going to town to contract with the quartermaster for the sale of their cows. When Storm expressed the need to purchase material for baby clothes, Grady suggested that she accompany him. She eagerly agreed, and they dropped off Tim to spend the day with Mabel and Clem. Before they left Tim begged to spend the night with the Martins, and they gave their permission.

As usual Guthrie was teeming with people. After dropping off Storm at the general store, Grady headed directly to the small office where the army quartermaster was buying cattle for nearby forts. Grady waited in line until it was his turn, and when he finally spoke to Lieutenant Murphy, a deal was struck without too much haggling. Murphy set a time for him to come out to inspect his purchase two days hence, and Grady left feeling he'd accomplished something. Thank G.o.d they would have money to see them through the winter. By the time the new baby arrived next spring the fields would be replanted and the cattle thriving.

Storm hadn't finished shopping when Grady arrived at the general store to pick her up so he headed to the nearest saloon. It had been a long time since he'd been in a saloon, and longer still since he'd shared a drink with male companions. He and Storm needed to meet some of the nearby homesteaders, he decided as he entered the smoky interior of the Whistle Stop Saloon, across the street from the general store. He ordered a beer and lounged against the bar while he looked the place over. It didn't look much different from any other saloon he'd visited in frontier towns across the west.

The man standing to his right was deep in conversation with the bartender, so he turned his attention to the man on his left. He was startled to find the man staring intently at him. He looked like a drifter, no different from any of the other nameless, faceless drifters Grady had encountered in saloons just like the Whistle Stop. The drifter was dressed in dusty, rumpled clothes that reeked of the trail. A dark stubble shadowed the lower half of his face and a battered, wide-brimmed hat covered a head of dark, s.h.a.ggy hair.

"Don't I know you from someplace, mister?" The man's small eyes narrowed thoughtfully as he searched Grady's face.

Grady shrugged, uninterested in continuing the conversation. He'd met scores of men like him before and wanted nothing more to do with them. "Could be." He turned away.

The man wasn't about to be brushed off so easily. "I ain't through talkin' to ya, mister." He placed a hand on Grady's shoulder and turned him around.

Grady stiffened, sensing immediately that the drifter spelled trouble. Would he never be free of his violent past?

"What's yer name, mister? Mine is Darnell. Slade Darnell. I know I seen ya someplace."

"The name's Grady Stryker, and I seriously doubt we've met before. I own a homestead ten miles west of town."

"Homesteader, huh. That's d.a.m.n interestin'. Didn't know they let half-breeds homestead. Ya sure look like someone I should know."

"Sorry, Darnell, you've got the wrong man. We've never met." He finished his beer in one gulp. "Well, better get going. My wife is waiting for me at the general store. See you around, Darnell."

"Yah, see ya around, Stryker." Grady left the saloon as quickly as possible without seeming to be in a hurry. While Darnell had been talking he had suddenly recalled where they had met. It was at the Long Branch Saloon in Dodge City, Kansas.

Grady had just paid for the services of a young wh.o.r.e and was accompanying her upstairs when Darnell, drunk and looking for a fight, insisted that he had already engaged her services. Though the wh.o.r.e had said otherwise, Darnell had persisted, until Grady had been forced to throw the man from the saloon. Darnell had picked himself up from the dirt and drawn on Grady. Because Darnell had been drinking, Grady hadn't wanted to kill him, so he had merely winged him in the left arm. When Grady returned downstairs after his romp with the wh.o.r.e, Darnell was gone. Afterward Grady had forgotten all about it. But apparently Darnell had not.

Grady hurried across the street to the general store, where he had left the wagon. He waved and grinned when he saw Storm waiting for him. Her pregnancy was quite noticeable now, and a warm, melting feeling spread upward through his body whenever he looked at her. Which was quite often. He couldn't believe that Wakantanka had given him such happiness. He took the packages from Storm's hands and placed them in the wagon bed. Then he lifted her onto the seat.

"Are you ready to go home, sweetheart?"

"All set. Did you get a good price for the cattle?"

"The army is desperate for cattle to feed the troops through the winter months. The price I received is slightly more than I expected. Someone will be out to inspect them in a couple of days."

Grady waited until Storm settled comfortably on the seat, then started to walk around to the driver's side. He had managed only a few steps when he saw Darnell hurrying across the street toward him. He let loose a few choice words beneath his breath. He wanted to leap onto the wagon and whip the horses into a fine froth, but it was too late. Even as the thought came to him, Darnell was standing before him.

"I recollect who ya are now, Renegade. Yer the hombre what winged me a few months back. I was laid up fer two weeks and had ta pay a doc ta patch me up. I swore I'd make ya pay if we ever crossed paths. Pick yer time and place, Renegade. Right now would suit me jest fine."

"Grady!" Storm's voice rose on a note of panic. This couldn't be happening again. How many times would Grady be forced to defend himself before he'd be left in peace? "Please, tell the man to go away."

Grady's face was stark as he fought his natural inclination to oblige Darnell. But he had promised Storm, and he had every intention of holding to that vow. "You heard my wife, Darnell. Go away. I'm not interested in drawing against you."

"Well ain't that too bad." Darnell raked Storm's swollen belly with contempt. "Has the little woman stolen yer guts?"

"Get out of here, Darnell, before I forget I've sworn off violence."

"Sounds ta me like ya turned yellow," Darnell said slyly, seeming to know exactly the right words to goad Grady.

Grady's hands balled into fists and his face grew so red Storm feared he would explode. Slowly his hands inched upward, pausing scant inches above his holstered gun.

"Go ahead, Renegade, I'll even let ya draw first. I ain't drunk this time, and I've been practicin' some. I rode with the Dalton gang fer a spell."

"Grady!" Storm's voice brought Grady abruptly to his senses. It wasn't easy to let a miserable, worthless skunk like Darnell call him a coward and get away with it. He slanted Storm a look filled with regret and apology, then turned back to Darnell.

"This is neither the time nor the place, Darnell. My wife is pregnant and doesn't need the aggravation of seeing me gun you down."

Grady's words brought Storm's world tumbling down around her feet. Did Grady's word mean nothing to him? Why couldn't he just turn and walk away? So what if the man called him a coward? They both knew Grady was no coward and that was all that mattered. Darnell didn't dare shoot Grady in cold blood; the sheriff of Guthrie was a scrupulous peacekeeper and Darnell would surely hang for murder.

"So yer gonna be a papa, ain't that touchin'," Darnell sneered, obviously unmoved by Grady's words. "Name the time and place, Renegade."

Grady thought a moment, then said, "Sundown, behind the saloon. I want to take my wife home first."

"Oh, G.o.d." Storm clutched her stomach as the baby lurched inside her. Why did this have to happen now, when they had come so far to attain happiness?

"Sundown," Darnell agreed. "Don't be late or I'll come lookin' fer ya." He flashed Storm a leering grin, then walked away.

Grady scrambled into the driver's seat. "Are you all right, sweetheart?"

"How could you?" Storm screamed, clearly distraught. "Does your word mean nothing? You promised! I hate you, Grady Stryker! I hate you for what you're doing to me and Tim and your unborn baby."