Chapter 29

Colorado, 1867

The crisp Colorado air carried the scent of pine and woodsmoke as Sweetgrass Woman knelt next to Róisín. Sweetgrass Woman produced a garment from and handed it to Róisín. The woman held it up, her dark eyes searching Róisín's face. Róisín, unsure of the gesture, managed a hesitant nod. Sweetgrass Woman, with a smile that crinkled the corners of her eyes, helped Róisín out of her tattered blue dress and into the unfamiliar warmth of the doe skin dress.

Next came a pair of leggings, soft against Róisín's skin. Sweetgrass Woman demonstrated tying them around her waist with the long leather ties. Róisín fumbled with the task, her fingers clumsy with exhaustion and nerves. Sweetgrass Woman chuckled, a low sound that rumbled from her chest, and patiently showed Róisín again.

"Thank you," Róisín finally managed. She reached down to touch the fringe that adorned the bottom of the dress, a simple decoration of blue beads that shimmered in the sunlight.

"P'ee." Sweetgrass Woman's smile widened.

Róisín suspected the woman didn't understand her words, but the sentiment seemed to reach her nonetheless. Communication here was a dance of gestures and expressions, a slow waltz that she was only just beginning to learn.

The other women in the village seemed less welcoming. Their gazes, when they fell on Róisín, were either indifferent or laced with a veiled hostility. Yet, Sweetgrass Woman remained a constant source of patient guidance. She showed Róisín how to gather firewood, and water as well as the painstaking task of scraping hides and pounding meat. Each lesson was a silent conversation, a bond forming between the two women.

As dusk settled and the family returned to the teepee gathered around the fire as they ate. Buck noticed the way Róisín pushed the food around in her bowl, yet ate very little. He knew she didn't like the taste of pemican, but they would have fresh meat before winter set in. She would eat if she was hungry.

After they ate the children sat on their blankets and listened intently to their father's story. Red Bear's voice, deep and resonant, filled the air as he began to weave the tale. Buck leaned close to tell Róisín in English.

"Many years ago, before our people made their way south, they camped along the rivers and streams in the far north, where there were a great many bears. One day, seven little girls went playing among the rocks far north of the village. One girl wandered away from the group. When she was turning back to join her companions when she heard a terrible crashing noise, and there, standing at the height of fifteen men and tall as the tallest tree, stood a bear." Buck whispered into Róisín's ear.

Red Bear rose to his feet and roared at ths children. Róisín with the children all giggled as Red Bear rambled around the fire growling like a bear. Buck sat back and held Róisín's hand. He'd missed this. He knew he made the right choice staying with the Pony Express, but he had missed his brother. He missed being part of a family. He watched with a smile as his brother playfully launched his youngest in the air, much as their grandfather had with them.

"This bear had a great, ever-growing hunger, and the girl stood upon his territory. He dropped to all fours and ran toward her. The girl cried out and fled. He chased her back to her companions, crashing through trees and raking the ground with his great claws. The girl ran, fleet as a deer. The other girls heard her cries and the great noises the bear was making, and they tried to run toward the village. The bear thwarted their efforts by herding them away from it, and they scattered, as the herd of bison scatters before the cougar."

Buck looked down at Róisín, her eyes intent on Red Bear's story.

"They managed to evade the bear, being smaller and quicker, but they had nowhere to go. Eventually, exhausted, they clambered atop a wide rock that stood about five hands high. As they pulled the last girl upon the rock, the bear was right behind them. In desperation, they cried out to the rock, and the Great Spirit, seeing their plight, caused the rock to grow. It grew and grew, pushing the girls upwards. The bear leapt towards it as the rock continued to grow. The bear's claws caught on the side of the rock, then broke and fell to the ground. He continued to jump and scratch in vain upon the face of the rock, leaving deep gashes. And still, the rock grew and grew."

"It pushed the girls up, up, into the sky. Upon reaching the sky, the girls transformed into stars, where they are now, seven little stars in a group. As the sun rose the next morning, the people of the tribe gathered around the base of the towering, newly grown rock mountain and found pieces of the bear's claws, turned to stone, scattered on the ground."

Róisín smiled nestled between Sweetgrass Woman and Buck, felt a flicker of warmth amidst the sorrow and stress since they left Cheyenne, since her brother had been killed and she and Buck were being hunted.

While Sweetgrass Woman put the children to sleep Róisín carefully tended to the wounds on Buck. His ribs and face were slowly losing the deep purple bruising and turning yellow and red on his skin. But the gash on his skull was still angry and sore.

When it was time to retire, Sweetgrass Woman rose, a gentle hand on Róisín's shoulder. "P'ee," she said, her voice soft.

Róisín smiled and squeezed the woman's hand softly. "Good night."

Róisín helped Buck to the makeshift bed and she drew the blanket closed. She felt the heat creep up to her cheeks when she heard the unmistakable sounds of intimacy coming from within the teepee. Stifling a giggle she hurried over to Buck.

Buck looked at her curiously, he was just about to ask why the sudden outburst of laughter but then a soft telltale sound from beyond the hanging blanket made it to his ears. A grin spread across his face and he patted the fur next to him.

"Come on." He cleared his throat softly. "Get some sleep."

Róisín crawled beside him and kissed his cheek softly before laying at his side, resting her hand on his chest. A soft sigh escaped her lips, deep in thought she idly played with the cord that held the pouch around his neck.

"You awake?" She whispered. Hearing Buck's low grumble in confirmation she continued.

"What does p'ee mean?"

"Where did you hear that?" He pet her head softly.

"Sweetgrass Woman has been calling me that all day." Róisín confirmed.

Buck smiled, a warmth in his eyes. "Sister," he replied. "She calls you sister."

The weight of the word settled on Róisín. In a land where she was a stranger, an outsider, Sweetgrass Woman had offered her not just kindness, but a bond of kinship. A tear escaped, tracing a warm path down her cheek.