Free A Promise of Thunder by Connie Mason

swelling already visible around his right eye.
    “Don’t ever touch me like that again!”
    Still stunned, Grady remained on the ground, staring up at Storm with new respect. He could feel his flesh swelling and wondered if her fist was as sore as his eye. He was amazed at the strength behind the wallop and hoped she hadn’t broken anything.
    “You could have warned me you were going to do that,” Grady complained.
    Storm bit back a smile. Though her hand hurt dreadfully, it was worth it to see the arrogant half-breed laid low. “Keep your hands to yourself, Grady Stryker, and I’ll not be forced to defend myself again.”
    “I think you protest too much, lady,” Grady said, picking himself up off the ground. “You thoroughly enjoyed everything I did to you. Are all white women so damn contrary?”
    “I don’t know about anyone else, but I’m not the kind of woman who allows just any man to kiss her.”
    “Is it because I’m a half-breed?” His flinty blue eyes probed her relentlessly, demanding an answer.
    “It’s because I didn’t like the way you kissed me, or touched me. My own husband didn’t kiss or touch me like that.”
    Grady looked incredulous. “More’s the pity. It’s about time someone did.”
    “What do you know about marriage?” she snorted, incensed. Obviously the half-breed knew nothing about the holy state of matrimony.
    “I was married before I was twenty-one.” His statement took the wind out of her sails.
    “M—Married? You have a wife?” Why should that information give her a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach? Storm wondered curiously.
    “I
had
a wife.”
    Storm thought he was being exceptionally bullheaded and asked, “What happened to her? Did you abandon her?”
    “Summer Sky is no longer alive. She left the earth over three years ago.”
    The hollowness of his voice gave Storm a glimpse of the agony Grady suffered over the death of his wife. Storm thought that he must have loved her deeply to still suffer the loss after so long a time.
    “I’m sorry.” She could think of no other wordsthat would express her sympathy.
    “It was a long time ago. It is no longer as painful as it once was,” Grady said, staring off into the distance. “In time you will feel the same about your husband. Life continues. One day you will find a new mate to share your life.”
    “Have you? Found a new mate, I mean.”
    His eyes were sharp and assessing as he said, “Perhaps.”
    Storm grew restive under his sizzling scrutiny. Sometimes he looked at her as if he were a cat and she his saucer of milk.
    “Then I wish you luck. It will take an unusual woman to keep a man like you under control.”
    “Yes, very unusual.”
    “I must return,” Storm said as she grabbed the buckets Grady had filled with water and started to move off. The conversation was becoming far too intimate for her liking. And after the kiss he just gave her, she feared he might take advantage of her again. Another kiss like that and she’d be babbling like an idiot.
    “Let me carry them to your wagon,” Grady said, taking the buckets from her hands. Finding no reason to object, Storm hurried away, leaving Grady to follow behind her.
    Storm’s cabin was ready for occupancy early in November. It was crudely finished but tight and cozy enough to keep out the winter winds when they came. She had purchased a few pieces of furniture in Guthrie and had theworkers set them in place before they left. The well still wasn’t completed, but work was continuing. Meanwhile, she made the daily trip for water, crossing Grady’s land to reach the river.
    Storm’s pride and joy was the iron stove she had purchased in Guthrie. It sat like a fat black Buddha in the kitchen area of the small cabin. Later, she reckoned she could add a bedroom and maybe a separate kitchen. But for now the one large room would serve her needs quite adequately.
    Her bed, consisting of a brass frame with rope supports and a thick feather