Chapter 7

Butte Meadows, Nebraska - 1857

The muffled sounds of her parents' argument seeped through the pillow, a stark contrast to the joy Siobhan had hoped for on her birthday. Frustration and disappointment settled heavily in her chest. With her father's departure and the slamming of the door behind him, she knew she couldn't bear another moment indoors. It was her thirteenth birthday, a special day that should be filled with laughter and light, not the suffocating weight of her parents' arguing. Determined to find solace in the beauty that always soothed her, Siobhan threw on her coat and snuck out the back door.

Her favorite spot, a narrow plateau with sweeping views of the canyon, called to her with the allure of a stunning sunset and the promise of stars twinkling against the sound of crickets. As she raced across the meadow, her breath heavy from the effort, she spotted a familiar figure standing at the edge of the cliff.

"T'àu éy T'ái?" She called out.

He turned, a warm smile spreading across his face as he rose to meet her. "I hoped you would come," he greeted, his voice carrying across the distance. "It is your name day."

Siobhan's smile widened. "You remembered."

"Of course." He replied, extending a small, intricately woven bag towards her.

"What's this?" she inquired, her curiosity piqued.

"A gift for you," he answered simply.

She eagerly unraveled the bag's contents, her fingers tracing the intricate pattern of a circular beaded rosette. The colors – vibrant reds, oranges, and blues - mirrored the hues of the setting sun perfectly.

"It's beautiful," she breathed, an awed smile gracing her lips as she lifted the rosette to admire it. "I can't wait to wear it."

He gestured towards her neck. "Let me."

Siobhan nodded, her cheeks flushing slightly as she held still. His fingers, surprisingly gentle, brushed against her skin as he carefully fastened the rosette around her neck. The warmth of his touch sent a shiver down her spine, a new and unfamiliar sensation.

"I love it," she whispered, her voice barely above a murmur. "Thank you. I'll cherish it always."

"You're welcome," he replied softly.

They lay down in the grass on their backs, side by side in comfortable silence, the only sounds the gentle rustling of the wind through the tall grass and the distant chirping of crickets. The sky above them transformed into a breathtaking canvas of stars, each twinkle a tiny spark against the inky black sky.

Running Buck reached for her hand, his fingers intertwining with hers. His touch felt warm and reassuring. He turned his head to look at her, his eyes searching her face with a newfound intensity.

"Siobhan," he began, his voice low and thoughtful. "Do you remember when I went on my vision quest?"

She nodded, squeezing his hand gently in encouragement.

"There's something I want to tell you about it," he continued, his gaze drifting back to the star-studded sky. "Something that happened on my way home."

Siobhan turned on her side to face him, curiosity sparkling in her eyes. "What was it?"

Running Buck's lips curved into a soft smile. "As I was descending from the cliffs, I saw something I'd never seen before. There, growing from a crack in the rocky ground, was a single red flower."

His free hand reached out, gently touching a lock of Siobhan's hair that had fallen across her cheek. "It was the exact color of your hair, vibrant and alive against the harsh landscape. In that moment, all I could think of was you."

Siobhan's breath caught in her throat, her heart fluttering at the tenderness in his touch and words. "Really?" she whispered.

Running Buck nodded, his fingers now gently combing through her long red tresses. "It made me realize something, Siobhan. Something I think I've known for a long time but couldn't put into words."

"What?" she asked, her voice barely audible.

"Siobhan—" He began, his voice low and serious, a stark contrast to his usual playful demeanor. His gaze held a depth she hadn't noticed before, a mixture of nervousness and hope that sent a flutter to her stomach. "Will you be my wife?"

Siobhan couldn't help but burst into laughter at the unexpected proposition, though her heart raced at the sincerity in his eyes. "T'àu éy T'ái, I am only thirteen," she said, her voice gentle. "My parents won't let me marry for quite a while."

"I'll wait," he replied, rolling onto his side and touching her cheek softly. " Khote t'day aim doe."

"What does that mean?"

He touched his chest then touched hers.

"Me too," she smiled, understanding the sentiment even if she didn't know the words.

"Then you'll be my wife." Running Buck's declaration wasn't a question.

Siobhan rested her head in the crook of his arm and looked up at him. Her parents would never allow such a union. Yet, a truth bloomed in her heart, as undeniable as the constellations shining above. She wouldn't, couldn't, love another the way she loved him.

Running Buck's gaze held hers, searching for a response, a flicker of hope in his dark eyes. Their usual banter, filled with playful jabs and childhood laughter, seemed a lifetime ago. He leaned closer, the warmth of his breath tickling her cheek. The air crackled with a new kind of awareness, a current that sent shivers dancing down her spine.

Siobhan, her heart pounding, closed the distance between them. Her kiss was hesitant at first, a mere whisper of lips brushing against his. The innocence of their childhood bond intertwined with the awakening awareness of something deeper.

As they parted, Running Buck's hand cupped her cheek, his thumb gently tracing the curve of her jawline. "I will wait," he murmured, his voice thick with emotion.

Siobhan nodded, words failing her in the face of such raw emotion. Instead, she snuggled closer to him, her head resting on his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart. The world around them seemed to fade away, leaving only the vast expanse of stars above and the promise of a future together, no matter the obstacles that lay ahead.