Chapter 33
Colorado, 1867
As night fell, the rhythmic thrum of drums and joyous singing carried across the village. A massive bonfire blazed at the heart of the camp, casting flickering amber glows that danced across the hides of the surrounding teepees. The pungent aroma of roasting buffalo meat and wood smoke saturated the crisp air. Róisín's hands were tender and sore from helping the other women prepare the night's feast. Though their language remained largely indecipherable, she found herself trading smiles and laughter with most of the tribal women like long-lost sisters.
Buck observed her from across the fire pit with a smile on his lips. How quickly she had blossomed amid the precarious life here. His chest swelled with an unfamiliar tenderness just watching the easy manner in which she moved among his people now, finally feeling at home. Leaving the boisterous festivities momentarily behind, Buck sought out Róisín at the center of the celebration. He reached for her hand, giving it a gentle tug.
"Come with me," he murmured, flashing her a lopsided smile.
Róisín's brow arched quizzically, but she allowed him to lead her away from the flickering glow and rhythmic chanting toward Red Bear's spacious teepee tucked against the far tree line.
Within the dimly lit interior Red Bear and Sweetgrass Woman waited beside a vibrant pile of delicately woven blankets. She looked to Buck with a crease furrowing her brow, silently seeking his reassurance. He gave her hand a comforting squeeze and a subtle nod, warmth and certainty shining through his darkened gaze. As Red Bear's powerful voice resonated through the teepee in his native tongue, Róisín felt the reverent atmosphere envelop despite her inability to comprehend the words themselves.
Sweetgrass Woman was focused as she gathered the plush blue-grey blankets into her arms. Red Bear reverently extended his hands to receive the sacred bundle, cradling it tenderly before beginning the final sequence of ceremonial motions. First laying the thick woven textiles across the shoulders of them both, he motioned for Buck and Róisín to stand together while he chanted. Róisín's pulse fluttered rapidly as realization gradually dawned on her - a matrimonial ceremony.
With his final deep invocation to the spirits and deities, Red Bear and Sweetgrass Woman each grasped an end of a large pale blanket. In one slow, fluid motion, they encircled the young couple until the soft woven fibers cocooned them together in a seamless embrace.
Róisín gazed up at Buck with parted lips, heart thundering in her ears. He met her wonderstruck expression with a tender smile, giving her hands anchored in his a reassuring squeeze. As the Red Bear and Sweetgrass Woman left the teepee to allow them a semblance of privacy, he raised her knuckles to brush against his lips.
"Are...are we truly...?" Róisín breathed, hardly daring to voice the thought aloud.
Buck's smile widened then, crinkling the corners of his eyes in a way that never failed to set her heart aflutter. "We're as one now, wife." He affirmed in a low rumble. He slanted his mouth over hers in an intense yet infinitely tender kiss. Róisín clung to him fiercely, every inch of her body tingling with excitement.
Moments later, the soft sound of footfalls on frozen earth announced a visitor before Sweetgrass Woman's familiar face peeked through the teepee's entrance. She spoke a few words, her gaze passing warmly from Buck to Róisín.
Buck responded with a nod and a rumbling reply, squeezing Róisín's hand reassuringly. "Fresh buffalo tonight," he translated with a faint smile. "No more of that damned pemmican for a few days at least."
Róisín's face lit up with a grateful smile at the prospect of a proper hot meal. Catching Buck's eye, she leaned in to press a kiss against his cheek. After Sweetgrass Woman had taken her leave, the newlyweds emerged hand-in-hand from the teepee. The bonfire still blazed at full strength, they approached the gathering, the pungent aroma of sizzling buffalo meat and woodsmoke enveloped them.
Róisín's stomach grumbled loudly, reminding her just how hungry she had become after the long day's labor and emotions. Buck nodded cordially to the other tribesmen as he guided her toward an unoccupied space along the edge of the roaring fire pit. He helped Róisín settle onto a well-worn ground covering before taking his own place at her side, their hands remaining intertwined.
All around them, the rise and fall of mingled voices, the dancer's songs, merged harmoniously with the crackle and hiss of the dancing flames. Buck watched the flickering fire reflected in the warm depths of Róisín's eyes, the silhouetted movements of the dancers throwing mesmerizing patterns of light and shadow across her entranced features. In that moment, an overwhelming sense of acceptance washed over him.