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Thankful meets Lieutenant Fahy.
A lamp flickered low in the window at headquarters. A soldier stood outside smoking.
“Land sakes, the soldiers I’ve seen so far are barely handsome at all,” Thankful whispered.
“What did you expect?”
“I suppose more like how I imagine your father when he was young—like you, sort of—well, when you were home—not now, I mean . . .”
The smoking soldier stepped forward from beneath the porch and the moon lit him.
“Lieutenant Fahy, is Captain Markham in, sir?” William asked.
Fahy stepped closer and bowed to Thankful. Her eyes lit up, and she giggled at the sight of him.
William’s stomach burned. “This is my cousin, Miss Crenshaw, sir.”
“Very pleased to meet you, Miss Crenshaw.”
“And you! You’re from Dublin, aren’t you?” Thankful asked.
The lieutenant grinned. “Why, yes, how did you guess? I’ve tried right hard to lose the sound of Ireland.”
“Oh, you shouldn’t! My father has a doctor friend from Dublin and he’s smart—not a shanty Irish type . . . my goodness I should just stop now, sir—I think your accent is charming.”
“Where have you hid this girl, Weldon?” Fahy asked.
“She’s run away from home and is going back to her father in the morning, sir. She’s very young . . .”
“I am not, Willy!”
Fahy took a drag from his pipe, his head tilted in amusement.
“I’m eighteen!” Thankful said, swishing her skirts slightly.
Fahy gave her the once over. “My sisters and brother and I came to America when we were young like yourself. You’ve got a great country here.”
“Oh, yes, of course it is,” Thankful said. “And how many sisters do you have, Mr. Fahy?”
“Just buckets of them and brothers, too. I’m a twin, in fact, but my brother joined the navy for a lark.”
“By golly, I’m a twin. How very coincidental.”
They laughed.
“Thankful, we need to talk to the captain,” William reminded her.
“Thankful? What an unusual name,” Fahy gushed.
“It sounds nice the way you say it, sir.”
“Come along now, COUSIN, I have to get back, you know,” William said, taking her arm.
Fahy sighed. “Bill Weldon, you should try to enjoy life a little.” He turned to Thankful. “Your cousin is a good fellow, but always so serious.”
Excerpted from WEARY OF RUNNING. Read more about Buck Crenshaw and his misadventures when you buy the book today!
“The second installment in The Tenafly Road Series definitely did not disappoint. With the introduction of new characters and the return of familiar ones, Weary of Running made for an exciting read. The protagonist, Thankful, is the real highlight of the novel. She consistently makes very poor decisions but in the end, you can understand why she has made every last one of them. The story ranges from love and romance to questions of faith and morality. It does all this without being preachy and explores many angles of different aspects of life. This is one of the best books I have read in a long time.” Amazon Review
“Buck Crenshaw is my favorite dysfunctional lovable character.”
William agrees to take Thankful to Fort Grant
“Call me Bill at the post,” William coached. “Lieutenant Bourke is the only one to hold to my childhood name, and it gives too much a laugh to the others.”
“Maybe it’s not your name they’re laughing at,” Thankful said, poking his side with her thin, gloved finger.
“What are you saying?”
“I just mean that maybe they have their own concerns and aren’t as against you as you think.”
“I know well enough if I’m being played the fool,” William said, but his stomach pained him. He wasn’t sure of anyone’s motives.
At the stables, Thankful laughed at William’s pony. “The Friesians at home could swallow that little thing. Are you sure he’ll hold me too and with the carbine?”
William pat the horse’s rump. “You shouldn’t go making fun of Sophie. She’s a good girl.”
“Sophie? What a name for a horse.”
“I like it. Maybe I had a dog or something named Sophie. You’ll have to ride Indian style. I had to sell her saddle.”
“No one will see that I care about,” Thankful said with a blush as she straddled the horse exposing her striped pink stockings.
William steadied her and pretended not to notice her shapely legs. Thankful was tall like her mother and father and solidly built. The sunlight streaming through the stable window played up her deep blue eyes.
“Thankful, I have to drive her. You’ll have to hang off back if you don’t mind.”
“I can ride quite well, Mr. Bill Weldon!” Thankful said, but slid off to let William on first.
“Maybe so, but you’re your mother’s daughter.” William swung his leg over the horse with a shy smile.
Thankful followed and wrapped her arms around William’s middle. He felt flustered again. But this was crazy. She’d be gone tomorrow.
Although his parents tried to keep him from horses after his accident, William always found a way to ride. He enjoyed this one good thing about himself and liked showing off to Thankful.
They cantered out on the desert path and rode for hours.
“William, have you missed me?” Thankful asked in his ear.
“I . . . I guess I miss the folks at home sometimes—you being one of them—so yes . . . I guess so,” William said.
Thankful stayed quiet until the fort came into view at twilight. “I’m so excited!” she said.
The guard’s ears pricked at the sound of Thankful’s voice.
“Bill Weldon, who do you have there?” the guard asked.
Thankful slid from the horse. “I’m Bill’s cousin from home with no place to sleep tonight—will the army put me up? I’ll pay.” She held out her hand, confident in the effect her looks had on men.
The man sported a big yellow grin. “Bill, you’ve got cousins? How many?” he asked, looking Thankful over. “I don’t know for certain, young lady, but I think the officers could find you something. Your cousin’s got special privileges.” He smacked William’s back. “Nice to see you, young fellow. We’ve missed you.”
The guard led them to the sergeant of the guard who gawked with pleasure at the girl with high cheekbones.
“Miss Crenshaw, Bill will show you in—he knows the way,” the sergeant said and whispered to William, “I guess we owe you now—bringing in such a beaut—she’s not spoken for is she? Has she got sisters?”
“A twin,” William let slip.
The man’s eyes lit. “The officers get this one, I guess, but send for the other and give us non-commissioned men a chance at happiness.”
PREVIOUS EPISODE HERE
Excerpted from WEARY OF RUNNING. Read more about Buck Crenshaw and his misadventures when you buy the book today!
“The second installment in The Tenafly Road Series definitely did not disappoint. With the introduction of new characters and the return of familiar ones, Weary of Running made for an exciting read. The protagonist, Thankful, is the real highlight of the novel. She consistently makes very poor decisions but in the end, you can understand why she has made every last one of them. The story ranges from love and romance to questions of faith and morality. It does all this without being preachy and explores many angles of different aspects of life. This is one of the best books I have read in a long time.” Amazon Review
“Buck Crenshaw is my favorite dysfunctional lovable character.”
William Weldon is not the man Thankful once knew.
Thankful scooped up the map pieces on the floor. “Such a gift you have and you throw it away on depraved women.”
“Jesus hung around with them.”
Thankful looked up at him with a severe stare. “So now you compare yourself to our Lord? You have changed.” She adjusted her hat with one hand while clutching the map in the other.
The faint odor of perspiration under Thankful’s perfume flustered William.
Thankful stood. “I shall have to go back to the army on my own for assistance. I don’t trust anyone here and you won’t keep me the night.”
“Of course I won’t. The hotel is terrible rough though.” William tapped his fingers against his temple. “I guess it won’t be safe to go now. It’ll be almost candle lighting by the time you get there.”
He tried to ignore the…
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JOHN WELDON WAS BORN:
“Doctor Dudley, you in?”
A sudden panic in the pit of Dudley’s stomach caused him to hesitate before opening the door to let Weldon in. They stood together uncomfortably in the center of the room.
Weldon scanned the room, searching for a place to rest his eyes. “Dudley…I have a problem…
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The character Katherine McCullough came from a dusty unfinished diary in a university library. While doing missionary work (which at the time I thought was savaging a culture) her young son died of lockjaw after stepping on a rusty nail on a barge while crossing the Mississippi to visit his mother. Served her right! I callously thought (btw Katherine’s son doesn’t die in the book).
The original intent of the novel was to trash missionaries and keep the myth of the noble savage alive and well. Then I did research. Turns out I had a lot to learn about human frailty on all sides.
My mother said the problem with me was that I didn’t respect my husband. I wondered what it would look like if I did respect a…
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INSPIRATION: Every addict needs a scapegoat.
Captain Simon McCullough’s motto: Eat, drink and be merry, for tomorrow you may die. This gets John Weldon’s goat. How unfair it is that Simon coasts through life suffering nary a scratch while drinking, womanizing and joking all the way?
Weldon fails to note the fatalism in Simon’s motto. He underestimates the friend he tries to hate.
There’s a type of 19th century military memoir tremendously fun to read. The accent is on the antics of soldiers in downtime that almost trick one into believing war is quite a great time. I’ve always admired the way boys and men conduct friendship and briefly considered running away to be an intelligence officer in the Navy (to escape that first marriage and possibly meet a naval officer–a weird twist of fate had me meet and marry a Navy man years later).
I often hear about…
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What if you’re the favorite child and grow up beautiful in a house of secrets? You’re a smart girl and learn quite young how to skirt your parents’ anger with a smile and outward compliance. Your rebellion comes late and turns in upon itself. Your admirers see a blue dress and a seductive impetuosity. Your brothers think you’re a fool.
It’s hard to protect an impetuous girl. Emotions can’t be bottled in a dress. Needing love trumps sticking to a plan. When the man you love loves something else another man will do. This other man will convince the first that you, Thankful Crenshaw, have worth beyond your curls and flirtatious giggle. You assumed William Weldon already knew that. You assumed he’d leave his new found badness in town and rescue you from your foolishness. You thought you’d eventually tell him things about Buck and Fred and all you’ve kept…
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Your love is like a morning cloud, like the dew that goes early away. Hosea 6:4
My daughter tells me a hook up is expected after three dates. A few years ago my son told me it was after three weeks and before that I’d heard three months.
Free love is more like free mating isn’t it? Like something that happens with my sheep. It’s mindless. It’s instinct (though sometimes I’ve seen my goat bucks treat their does with more tenderness than people do their hook ups).
In movies free love is the punchline of a joke or just something thrown in to titillate a constantly bored audience. Sex scenes are about as interesting to watch as watching rams mount their girls. I laugh when movies are advertised as “steamy.”
In the 19th century, experimental societies existed. Their aim: PERFECTION.
Perfection meant becoming so Christ-like, so filled with love, so…
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William Weldon sobers at the prospect of Thankful Crenshaw spending the night after her SURPRISE VISIT
“I’ll just wash my face at least,” Thankful said, moving toward the wash basin in William’s filthy room above the saloon.
“Let me go fetch fresh water.” William grabbed the basin before she could see the contents. He took a while to scrub it clean in the yard near the water barrel. The saloon keeper had pity on him so William brought back a lemonade drink, on credit, for Thankful and found her sifting through the drawings and maps he had hidden.
“Thankful, those are nothing. Please, take this drink.”
She glanced up at William with her big eyes but wasn’t listening. “Willy, when did you get so good at people?”
“Thankful, you’ve come all this way to snoop? Let me have those back. The colors are off. My paints aren’t very good.”
“They’re…
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Tenafly Road 