A Promise of Thunder

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 destitute owners. Nat Turner may no longer be around, but other men like himhave arrived to take his place. It’s a damn 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 damn 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 washis 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 God 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 faceand a battered, wide-brimmed hat covered a head of dark, shaggy 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