A Promise of Thunder Read Free Page B

words, he saw no reason to offer explanations when he couldn’t even explain his reasons to himself.
    The undertaker named a figure. Grady nodded, took the appropriate sum from his money pouch, and placed it in the man’s hand. “Are you sure that’s enough? I want him to have a decent burial.”
    There was a rustle of calico, and then an angry feminine voice asked, “Why should you care what kind of burial my husband has?”
    While Grady and the undertaker were talking, Storm had entered the establishment in time to hear their words.
    Startled, the undertaker sent Storm a sheepish look. “Mr.—er—Mr. …” He slanted Grady a quizzical glance and waited for him to supply a name.
    “Stryker. Grady Stryker.”
    “Yes, well, Mr. Stryker has just paid for your husband’s burying.”
    “What! The man’s a savage; why should he offer to pay for Buddy’s funeral?”
    “Why don’t you ask him?” the undertaker suggested. It mattered little who paid for the burial as long as someone did.
    “All right, I will.” She turned to Grady, her eyes dark with fury. “I don’t want your charity, Mr. Stryker.”
    “It’s not charity. I’d—” he began.
    “Just take your money back. I don’t want it. Buddy and I weren’t rich, but I have enough to pay for his burial.”
    “Now, Mrs. Kennedy, perhaps you should reconsider,” the undertaker offered kindly. “You will need the money to return to your family. Mr. Stryker said he didn’t kill your husband. Can’t you accept his offer as a gift of kindness?”
    “Kindness?” Storm fumed. “Look at the man! Does he look the sort who is accustomed to doing good deeds? He looks like a gunslinger to me. And heaven only knows what he’d want in return for his ‘kindness.’ Give him back his money, Mr. Lucas.”
    Silas Lucas shrugged and handed the money back to Grady. “You heard the lady, Mr. Stryker.” Then, sensing a confrontation, he turned and walked away rather than be privy to the clashing of two explosive tempers.
    “I only wanted to do what was right, Mrs. Kennedy,” Grady said tightly. Truth to tell, he felt sorry for the young widow. Her expressive sherry eyes were red-rimmed from crying, andshe looked as if she hadn’t slept a wink the night before. He wondered if she even had a place to stay in this crowded town.
    “Your sympathy isn’t appreciated. Save it for someone who needs it,” Storm said. “You hardly look the type to feel regret. If it wasn’t for you, Buddy would still be alive.”
    “I had no idea a man would come gunning for me here in Guthrie,” Grady returned. “Had I known, I would have been more cautious.”
    “A man like you must face death every day,” Storm said disparagingly. “But Buddy wasn’t a violent man. He loved life, he—” Suddenly the burden of Buddy’s death became too much for Storm to bear. Her shoulders shook uncontrollably and she broke into tears.
    If he lived to be a hundred, Grady would never understand what made him pull Storm into his arms and offer the comfort of his strength. She felt so small, so warm and soft, that he groaned in response to the unaccustomed surge of compassion he felt for this small, helpless female. The last woman he’d felt that kind of protectiveness toward was Summer Sky. And this woman was nothing like Summer Sky.
    At first Storm allowed the small intimacy as Grady clumsily patted her shoulder, forgetting for a moment everything but the need to vent her grief over Buddy’s death. Then, slowly, she became aware of the carefully controlled power of the arms holding her and of the hard strength of the body pressing against hers. This man felt nothing like Buddy. The feeling ofGrady’s huge body enveloping her was so foreign that for a moment she could neither move or speak.
    “Are you all right?” Grady asked quietly.
    The sound of that low, intense voice was the catalyst that brought Storm abruptly back to sanity. Realizing she was accepting comfort from a man she