Chapter 35
Colorado, 1867
The first pale rays of dawn filtered through the teepee's smoke vent, casting a soft golden glow over the slumbering forms within. Róisín stirred beneath the plush buffalo robe, blinking sleepily as consciousness gradually returned. A contented sigh escaped her lips as her eyes finally focused on the devoted features of her Buck watching over her.
"Mornin', my beautiful wife," Buck greeted, voice still husky with sleep as he brushed an errant curl from her brow.
Róisín felt her cheeks warm at his unabashed appraisal, undimmed affection shining in his eyes. With a bashful smile, she reached up to trace the sharp line of his lips against his growing beard.
"How do you say husband in Kiowa?" She asked.
"Click your tongue at the start like this, "kee." He instructed.
"I love you "kee." She murmured, trailing her fingertips down the corded column of his neck. "Why the sudden change of heart?"
"Weren't a change of heart," Buck's palm cradled her cheek as he leaned in to brush a lingering kiss across her lips. "Just figured out what was important."
Any further words were cut off by Red Bear's booming voice echoing through the teepee, his voice now a familiar tone to Róisín's ears.
"We best get a move on if we aim to reach the winter camp 'fore the next snowfall hits," he translated with a wink. "There's a lot to get done 'fore we can head out - gatherin' the horses and dogs, breakin' down the travois, makin' sure the littlest ones are all bundled." Buck quickly dressed and helped Róisín tie her dress then squeezed her bottom lovingly as he kissed her softly. "You stay with Sweetgrass Woman, ya hear?"
"I will." She smiled dutifully.
Extricating themselves from their cozy nest of furs was no easy feat, but soon enough the village had descended into an orderly frenzy of activity. Teepees were disassembled with practiced efficiency, bundled supplies lashed securely to the sturdy travois sleds along with the bawling pups that would soon pull them.
Children scurried about underfoot in a chaotic flurry of squeals and laughter. Róisín watched in awe at the dizzying synchronicity of it all - an entire community transforming before her eyes with each member playing their indispensable part.
Per Sweetgrass Woman's unspoken instructions, Róisín found herself helping to usher the littlest ones into thick rabbit fur bundlings and onto the relative safety of the travois bundles as the dismantling progressed. By the time the entire village had been packed away and the dogs hitched up, freshly fallen powder blanketed the crisp plains once again in soft. Róisín fell into step alongside Sweetgrass Woman, struggling against the deep drifts threatening to swallow her leather-clad feet entirely with each sluggish pace.
Though her calves already burned from exertion and her breath plumed in ragged white bursts, she refused to falter. Having been raised with an iron will, her Irish pride simply would not allow it. But it was more than that – she was a wife now - and she would not shame him.
A sudden flash of movement through the hazy grey periphery caught her eye. It was Buck, guiding his own travois sled alongside Red Bear's as they forged the path ahead for the rest of the caravan. Despite the somber furrow of concentration weighing his brow, his dark gaze shone with unmistakable pride as it landed on his wife's determined figure.
Though the terrain grew increasingly punishing with each bend of the winding trail, Róisín found herself heartened by Sweetgrass Woman's steady, silent encouragement and her husband's periodic backward glances that sparked like banked embers in her soul.