to the hearts of settlers? Would he always be haunted by the things he had done in retaliation for Summer Sky’s death? Even though his anger and gun had been directed only against those men whose hatred for the Indians made them enemies, his reputation had grown by leaps and bounds until every man, woman, and child had feared Thunder, the Sioux renegade.
He turned slowly, his right hand hanging limply at his side, his fingers flexed. Grady’s eyes narrowed as he immediately identified the man who was staring at him as if he had seen a ghost. It was Lew Fork, the “Sooner” who had shot him when his back was turned. He was standing in line to file a claim.
Storm had no idea what was happening. She saw Fork and Grady facing one another, but since she had never seen the “Sooner” she had no idea who he was.
“I thought you were dead, Injun,” Fork said in a loud voice. “What are ya doing in line? Did ya jump another man’s claim like ya did mine?”
“Get your facts straight, Fork,” Grady said tightly. “Men who jump the gun have no right to claim land.”
“What makes ya think I jumped the gun?” Fork asked belligerently. “Who do ya think people will believe, me or some half-breed Injun?You got more lives than a cat.”
Goaded beyond endurance, Grady started to reach for his gun, but Storm stopped him. Though her touch was light as a feather he felt the heavy weight of her disapproval.
“Don’t,” Storm said softly. “Killing that man will prove nothing except your superiority with a gun. Let the authorities handle it.”
“Dammit, Storm, that man is the cowardly yellowbelly who shot me when my back was turned.” Never before had he allowed a woman to dictate caution to him. Not even Summer Sky had tried to quell his sudden bursts of temper.
“Let the law handle it, Grady.”
“Go ahead, Redskin, draw,” Fork taunted, realizing he had an ally in Storm. Immediately people began backing away.
“What’s going on here?” The voice held a ring of authority, and Grady recognized the distinctive blue uniform of the military. Guthrie was teeming with soldiers, most dispatched to the territorial capital to keep peace during the land rush. They also had the thankless task of proving or disproving the claims of Sooners.
“The Injun here is tryin’ to claim my land, Captain,” Fork said in an ingratiating tone of voice.
The Captain studied Grady closely, missing nothing about him. Not the dangerous glint in his blue eyes, his swarthy complexion, or the way he carried his gun, strapped to his thigh like a gunslinger.
“Is that true, Mr.—Mr.—?”
“Stryker. Grady Stryker. And no, it’s not true. This man claimed land he had no right to. He couldn’t possibly have reached that particular quarter section before me, set out his stakes, and put up a tent unless he jumped the gun.”
“I’ll attest to that, Captain,” Storm concurred. “I was right behind Mr. Stryker and there was no one ahead of us. When we arrived at the land Mr. Stryker claimed, it was already staked. I left to stake my own claim and when I returned I found Mr. Stryker had been shot in the back.”
“Wounded?” the Captain asked skeptically. He saw no evidence of Grady being wounded as recently as yesterday. “Are you certain, young lady?”
“I dressed the wound myself,” Storm said with asperity. “It should be very easy to prove.”
“I’ll take your word for it, miss.”
“It’s Missus. Mrs. Kennedy.”
“Kennedy. Is your husband the man who was killed in the street recently by a stray bullet?” He slanted Grady a pointed look. “And wasn’t this man involved in the incident?”
“Yes.”
“I’m sorry. I’m Captain Stark. Please accept my condolences.” He turned to Grady, trying to recall where he’d heard the name “Stryker” before. “If Mrs. Kennedy is telling the truth, then you have a right to file charges against the man for shooting you, Mr. Stryker.”
“Ain’t my word
He turned slowly, his right hand hanging limply at his side, his fingers flexed. Grady’s eyes narrowed as he immediately identified the man who was staring at him as if he had seen a ghost. It was Lew Fork, the “Sooner” who had shot him when his back was turned. He was standing in line to file a claim.
Storm had no idea what was happening. She saw Fork and Grady facing one another, but since she had never seen the “Sooner” she had no idea who he was.
“I thought you were dead, Injun,” Fork said in a loud voice. “What are ya doing in line? Did ya jump another man’s claim like ya did mine?”
“Get your facts straight, Fork,” Grady said tightly. “Men who jump the gun have no right to claim land.”
“What makes ya think I jumped the gun?” Fork asked belligerently. “Who do ya think people will believe, me or some half-breed Injun?You got more lives than a cat.”
Goaded beyond endurance, Grady started to reach for his gun, but Storm stopped him. Though her touch was light as a feather he felt the heavy weight of her disapproval.
“Don’t,” Storm said softly. “Killing that man will prove nothing except your superiority with a gun. Let the authorities handle it.”
“Dammit, Storm, that man is the cowardly yellowbelly who shot me when my back was turned.” Never before had he allowed a woman to dictate caution to him. Not even Summer Sky had tried to quell his sudden bursts of temper.
“Let the law handle it, Grady.”
“Go ahead, Redskin, draw,” Fork taunted, realizing he had an ally in Storm. Immediately people began backing away.
“What’s going on here?” The voice held a ring of authority, and Grady recognized the distinctive blue uniform of the military. Guthrie was teeming with soldiers, most dispatched to the territorial capital to keep peace during the land rush. They also had the thankless task of proving or disproving the claims of Sooners.
“The Injun here is tryin’ to claim my land, Captain,” Fork said in an ingratiating tone of voice.
The Captain studied Grady closely, missing nothing about him. Not the dangerous glint in his blue eyes, his swarthy complexion, or the way he carried his gun, strapped to his thigh like a gunslinger.
“Is that true, Mr.—Mr.—?”
“Stryker. Grady Stryker. And no, it’s not true. This man claimed land he had no right to. He couldn’t possibly have reached that particular quarter section before me, set out his stakes, and put up a tent unless he jumped the gun.”
“I’ll attest to that, Captain,” Storm concurred. “I was right behind Mr. Stryker and there was no one ahead of us. When we arrived at the land Mr. Stryker claimed, it was already staked. I left to stake my own claim and when I returned I found Mr. Stryker had been shot in the back.”
“Wounded?” the Captain asked skeptically. He saw no evidence of Grady being wounded as recently as yesterday. “Are you certain, young lady?”
“I dressed the wound myself,” Storm said with asperity. “It should be very easy to prove.”
“I’ll take your word for it, miss.”
“It’s Missus. Mrs. Kennedy.”
“Kennedy. Is your husband the man who was killed in the street recently by a stray bullet?” He slanted Grady a pointed look. “And wasn’t this man involved in the incident?”
“Yes.”
“I’m sorry. I’m Captain Stark. Please accept my condolences.” He turned to Grady, trying to recall where he’d heard the name “Stryker” before. “If Mrs. Kennedy is telling the truth, then you have a right to file charges against the man for shooting you, Mr. Stryker.”
“Ain’t my word
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