Sweet Thunder
by
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It was the roar of a space launch at blast-off, a thousand decibels of crashing thunderbolts. Steve Henderson heard that deafening roar as he stepped out of his gray Pontiac and was suddenly confronted by a bright silver motorcycle that came straight at him from around the corner of the parking lot. The bike swerved and pushed him back against his front fender, then reversed as he fell to the ground. The driver, a long-haired man in dirty jeans and a ragged T-shirt, stopped and looked down at Steve who lay on the pavement gasping for breath. "God damn," the biker exclaimed. "Watch where you’re goin’, scum bag." He gunned his engine and raced off into the early morning traffic. Steve was too startled to speak. He struggled to his feet, brushed back his red hair, and covered his left ear briefly. He opened the rear door of the car and removed his light tan sport coat and brief case. "Damned stupid biker," he muttered. "Could have killed me. Holy sh--!" He entered the lobby of the two-story glass and brick building where a receptionist worked at the computer and relayed phone calls. She glanced at Steve briefly. "Hey, Steve, great day, right?" Then she stared at him. "You look terrible! What happened?" He shook his head and brushed off the dust from his trousers. "You won’t believe this. I’m in the middle of Long Island, and I’m almost killed by a motorcycle! Somebody ought to make those things illegal." He ran up the steps to his office on the second floor and sat down in front of his computer. He breathed deeply and looked at the screen. See me early this morning. Ken. Steve read the note taped to the monitor and groaned. His boss had the habit of springing last-minute assignments on him without warning. He'd hoped for a quiet morning in his office at CBN TV News, time to work on his latest project, but quiet and orderly were not on today’s agenda. The motorcycle incident was enough. He didn’t need any more problems, and Ken’s note signaled interruptions and possible trouble.
He glared at his monitor wishing that he had an evil eye that would send the note into oblivion. He thought about the long, tedious hours he’d spent on his new assignment. George and Mildred Nightingale who cherished their Iroquois heritage and their privacy were to be evicted from their rat-infested, one-room apartment in Bedford-Stuyvesant. As a staff writer and reporter for CBN News, Steve recognized a good, human-interest story, and he pursued it. Access to the family had been a grueling experience. He found a man who knew a Native American who knew the Nightingales, and the process went on involving hours of quiet discussions, pleadings, and waiting as Steve and various go-betweens arranged, at last, a meeting with the family. And now Ken’s note probably meant that the entire operation was time wasted.
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About the Book
"You’re going to Sweet Thunder, South Dakota, to cover the 60th Annual Motorcycle Rally." Steve Henderson, New York TV journalist for CBN News, dreads this new assignment and isn’t comfortable with his new cameraperson, Cris Courtney, a Sweet Thunder native. "Find out what happens when 450,000 bikers invade a small town of 8,000 people," his boss orders. Steve doesn’t expect to meet Darlene, a sexy biker with a mean cat, Jerry, a psychopathic druggist who hates the Rally and plans to blow up the statue of the Rally’s founder, and Joe White Cloud, a Native American and owner of a motorcycle inhabited by an Indian spirit. And why has a drug dealer and former state senator returned? To sell drugs, to see his ex-girl friend? As Steve carries out his assignment, he interviews bikers and local people, learns why a biker gang, "The Sons of Satan," isn’t welcome and why Buffalo Butte is sacred to the Indian people. But he doesn’t expect to find romance, intrigue, and murder in Sweet Thunder. Join Steve Henderson on Main Street during Rally Week, smell the Indian tacos, oil, and sweat. Listen to the roar of 450,000 motorcycles and look out for more surprises.
About the Author
When Marian and Morris Hersrud moved to Sturgis, South Dakota, Marian was intrigued by the Motorcycle Rally that occurred each August. How could a small town of 8,000 people host a Rally with an ever-increasing attendance? How could those inhabitants endure the noise and inconvenience? And why did all those bikers come to Sturgis anyway? The questions lingered as Marian continued to serve on state and local educational and cultural boards – services she’d performed as a volunteer for several years. Marian Mathews ("Mattie") grew up in Minneapolis, Minnesota, attended Carleton College and graduated from the University of Minnesota. She and Morry were married during WWII. After the war, they moved to Morry’s hometown, Lemmon, South Dakota, population: 2,700. Marian suffered briefly from culture shock but managed to raise four children, participate in various community and state activities, and write. She served on the State Board of Regents of Higher Education and other state educational and cultural boards, and she wrote. Two articles were published in books edited by the Educational Record. She worked with the state legislature and the University of South Dakota as they developed a four-year medical school. She continues to serve on their advisory board. Sweet Thunder a title and story line suggested by a former Carleton classmate, Joe Cook, has been a major project. This is her first novel. Marian and Morry became winter residents of Naples, Florida a few years ago. She continues to write when she’s not on the tennis court, the beach, or at writers’ conferences.