The missionaries took over the fire. William hung in the shadows, but Buck came to him with a new bottle, unplugged it, and shared it out. William offered Buck a cigar. “No,” Buck said. “Oh, what the hell.” He took it and lit up, staring into the fire. “I guess I’ve lost my job now,”…
Fahy caught Buck’s unfriendly look. “What’s the matter? Has something happened to Thankful?” “She’s fine under the circumstances,” Buck said in his strongest voice. “I know she’s upset over my being here—but it’s the army.” Buck said nothing more. He’d been sworn to secrecy by Thankful. “The cadet brought us a whole case of fine…
After Kenyon’s missionary friends are openly hostile to William joining their mission to the new Indian reservation at San Carlos, William blanches at the idea of first traveling back to Fort Grant to request a military escort but he has no other options. By late day the team of missionaries and their hungover artist rolled…
“I had staked no valuable amount of hope or fear; it had enabled me to pass the summer in a novel and agreeable way, [and] afforded me some grotesque specimens of artificial simplicity.”
Following in the footsteps of a murdered artist, William is thrilled … and a little scared.
As many of you know MY NOVELS are set in Civil War and post-Civil War America. I thought it would be fun each week to focus on a different year of music from 1860-1900. Maybe my characters were listening to these songs back in the day. ENJOY.
“I cannot wait to be married and able to do what I want for once.”
This sense of knowing the past through dead relatives, of knowing them though never having met them is so similar to knowing the characters I write about.
“And what do you believe is progress, Miss Crenshaw?” Miss Peckham asked.
The ladies of Fort Grant get their feathers ruffled.
Image: The artist Anders Zorn and his wife Emma.