Chapter 4
Butte Meadows, Nebraska - 1853
The harsh Nebraska winter had come and gone, leaving behind a world reborn. Tender green shoots pushed through the thawing earth, a tentative promise of warmth to come. Siobhan's heart raced with anticipation, her fingers fidgeting with the hem of her dress. After months of waiting, of being the model of daughterly obedience, the day had finally arrived - her first sanctioned visit to the Kiowa village.
The compromise struck between her parents still felt like a fragile thing, as delicate as the first spring blossoms. Once a month, her father had argued. Once a month, under his watchful eye.
As the collection of teepees came into view, nestled amongst the rolling plains like a flock of great birds at rest, Siobhan's breath caught in her throat. There, at the outskirts of the village, a familiar figure waved enthusiastically. Little Bird.
The wagon had barely lurched to a halt before Siobhan leaped from the bench, her feet hitting the ground running. The tall grass whipped against her legs as she raced towards her friend, all thoughts of ladylike decorum forgotten in the rush of joy.
"Why didn't you come with your father sooner?" Little Bird greeted her, gap-toothed smile as warm as Siobhan remembered.
The question sent a pang through Siobhan's chest. "My mother wouldn't let me," she confessed in a hushed voice, glancing back at her father who was busy tethering the horses.
Little Bird's brow furrowed in confusion, but only for a moment. "Now we will be friends again," she declared with the unshakeable certainty of youth, grasping Siobhan's hand and tugging her towards the village.
As they walked, Siobhan's curiosity bubbled over. "How old are you?" she asked, drinking in the sights and sounds of the camp.
"Nine years," Little Bird replied proudly.
"I'm almost eight," Siobhan offered in return, a hint of awe in her voice at her friend's seniority.
Little Bird giggled, the sound as light and carefree as wind chimes. "You are already taller than me!" She reached into a small pouch at her waist, pulling out a piece of dried apple. "Here, you want?"
Siobhan accepted the offering gratefully, the tart sweetness exploding on her tongue. As she savored the treat, Little Bird's eyes sparkled with excitement. "Come with me!" she urged, once again leading Siobhan by the hand.
They raced through fields of golden grass, laughter trailing behind them. The sun beat down, fierce and unrelenting, and Siobhan could feel sweat beginning to bead on her brow. Just as she was about to suggest a rest, the land dipped, revealing a cool, inviting creek.
Little Bird wasted no time, shedding her buckskin dress and splashing into the shallow water with the other children. "Come on in!" she called back, beckoning Siobhan closer.
Siobhan approached the water's edge cautiously, the coolness reaching out to her from the bank. She dipped her toes in, gasping at the shock of cold. "It's freezing!" she exclaimed with a laugh, pulling back her foot.
"Bay soy aum!" Little Bird teased, splashing water in Siobhan's direction. "Hurry up!"
A sharp voice cut through the air, making both girls turn. Sweetgrass Woman stood a few paces away, her expression stern. "A:cáui Syânde!" she called out in Kiowa, disapproval evident in her tone.
Little Bird scowled back defiantly but said nothing. Instead, she paddled swiftly across the dammed section of the creek to the larger pool beyond, clambering onto a large rock with practiced agility.
Siobhan felt torn. She longed to join her friend, but the water's depth caused her distress. Carefully, she unbuttoned her worn calico dress, folding it neatly and placing it on a sun-warmed rock near the bank.
"You can't swim?" A familiar voice startled her from her thoughts. Siobhan turned to see Running Buck, the lanky boy she'd met on her last visit, wading into the water with ease.
Siobhan shook her head nervously, the creek suddenly seeming much deeper than before.
"Like this," Running Buck demonstrated, moving his arms slowly through the water. Hesitantly, Siobhan mimicked his movements, feeling the cool water lap against her arms.
"Good!" Running Buck exclaimed, his smile widening. Sensing her lingering apprehension, he extended his arms towards her. "I will help you."
Siobhan stared at him for a moment, her fear battling with the desire to join Little Bird. Slowly, she reached out and grasped his wrists, the warmth of his skin a stark contrast to the cool water. As they began to walk deeper, the water swirling around her chest, panic rose in Siobhan's throat.
"No, I can't!" she blurted out. "I don't want to go all the way across!"
"It is... thaw gyah." Running Buck soothed, his brow furrowing as he searched for the right English words. "Kick."
Siobhan squeezed her eyes shut and followed his instructions. As she kicked, a strange sensation filled her. For a moment, it felt like she was suspended, weightless, cradled by the cool embrace of the water. A giggle escaped her lips as she peeked open one eye.
"Hàu!" Running Buck encouraged her, his smile beaming.
When her feet finally touched the bottom on the other side, a wave of relief washed over Siobhan. "Thank you," she said breathlessly, her fear replaced by a newfound sense of accomplishment.
Running Buck shrugged, his smile sheepish. "Sorry you were afraid," he mumbled. "The English is not good like Áuso̱dau Má."
As Siobhan caught her breath, she noticed a group of older boys splashing and yelling near the other bank. Their laughter seemed strained, and they kept throwing hostile glances in Running Buck's direction.
Curiosity piqued, she turned back to Running Buck. "Why did they do that?" she whispered, noticing the way his jaw clenched with frustration.
Running Buck hesitated, then shrugged. "We are not friends," he said simply.
"Why not?" Siobhan pressed, unable to imagine anyone not wanting to be friends with the kind boy who had just helped her across the creek.
Running Buck looked away, a shadow crossing his features. "It is this way," he muttered dismissively.
Siobhan felt a pang in her chest, recognizing the pain of exclusion in Running Buck's eyes. "We are friends, right?" she asked softly, moving into shallower water.
"Hàu," he nodded, a small smile returning to his face. "We are friends."
As the sun began its slow descent towards the horizon, Siobhan reluctantly made her way back to where her father waited. Her dress clung to her damp skin, and her hair was a tangled mess, but her eyes shone with a light that hadn't been there before.
Atticus took in her appearance with a raised eyebrow, but there was a glimmer of understanding in his eyes. "Did you have a good time, little one?" he asked softly.
Siobhan nodded, unable to find words big enough to contain the experiences of the day. As they climbed back into the wagon for the journey home, she cast one last look at the Kiowa camp. Little Bird and Running Buck stood at the edge of the creek, waving goodbye. Siobhan waved back, already counting the days until her next visit.