ROMANCING THE WILDERNESS - 

The True-Life Inspiration Behind These Stories

by Dorothy Wiley, Author

Today, I am so excited to share with you the publication of my first boxed set! It contains the first three novels I wrote and some of my most beloved characters. Together they have a 4.6 star rating with 831 reviews! 

A new, never-before issued bundle—ROMANCING THE WILDERNESS—containing three full-length, binge-worthy novels: WILDERNESS TRAIL OF LOVE, NEW FRONTIER OF LOVE, and WHISPERING HILLS OF LOVE. More than 900 pages of heroes, suspense, and tender romance.  Set in 1797, these frontier stories seamlessly blend breathtaking action with family, friendship, and laughter. Pick up an eBook copy of this bundle for just .99 cents or read for free in Kindle Unlimited!  

Let me share a little bit of what inspired these three books. Many years ago...I was trying to come up with a unique Christmas present for my husband. So I decided to research his ancestry. I wanted to document enough to get him qualified for membership in the Sons of the Republic of Texas (SRT). To be a member, you have to be a direct lineal descendant of those that settled in the Republic of Texas prior to February 19, 1846, when Texas merged with the United States as the 28th state. 

Larry didn't know much about his family past his Grandpa Garvin. Secretly, with dial-up internet and a few furtive trips to the genealogy library in Houston, I was able to find proof that he qualified for SRT. But what was really amazing was I found out that his third-great grandfather, Samuel Wiley, fought at the Battle of San Jacinto, the decisive battle against General Santa Ana. At the Battle of San Jacinto, he was a member of Col. Sherman's 2nd Regiment which formed the left-wing of the army. Per Sam Houston, "...having commenced the action upon our left-wing, the whole line, advancing in double quick time, raised the war-cry 'Remember the Alamo'." Samuel received $24 for three months of service fighting for Texas. (Note: This real-life Samuel Wiley is the baby in my latest series—Wilderness Dawning.) 

Digging further into the past, I also discovered that his ancestors were among the first settlers of Kentucky (1790's),  Louisiana (1805), and Texas (1818). That made them among the first families to settle in these states. Later, research through Kentucky historical websites, dozens of books, the Texas State Archives, and The University of Texas, made me realize how very courageous these men and women were. 

Their journeys inspired all thirteen of my books in three series. I wanted to honor these and other first wave settlers of early America by writing these books. The arduous journeys, brave battles, and daily sacrifices of these first-wave pioneers should not be forgotten. While my books are inspired by my husband's ancestors, the stories are not based on actual people, although some of their names are real. The tales are what I imagine their lives would have been like based upon my research and a spirited imagination. I attempted to balance the hardships of the frontier with amusing, romantic, and vividly compelling characters that I hope are very memorable.

The first three books in The American Wilderness Series, offered in this bundle, are the stories of three of the brothers—Stephen, Captain Sam, and William—all heroes in their own right who journeyed together to Kentucky, each for their own reasons. (Note: The Captain Sam in this bundle is the great uncle of the Samuel mentioned above who fought for Texas. If you have ever done any genealogy research, you probably came across the same problem I did. Babies were often named after grandfathers and uncles and they never used middle names, so you might have three men with the exact same name on the same census!) 

I believe you will find that my novels are both realistic and idealistic. They acknowledge the harsh realities of the frontier wilderness while including the ideals of boundless hope, strong family, and forever love. My goal is to touch the hearts of my readers and I hope that each of my thirteen books will do that for you. 

Grab the ROMANCING THE WILDERNESS  bundle on Amazon, at the amazing price of just .99, and immerse yourself in early colonial history as the brothers and the women they love bravely face a formidable wilderness frontier.  

"There is no question, Dorothy Wiley is one of the best American Historical Romance writers today." - Amanda Hughes, bestselling historical romance author

I PREFER TO REMAIN NAMELESS

 

When I was a little girl, I went to school with two twin boys. Their names were Wayne and Dwayne. I won’t say the last name. Even though they have both passed, they still have family – so they shall remain nameless. Wayne and Dwayne were the youngest in their family, having an older sister and two older brothers who were fairly vocal with bold personalities. Not so with these two little boys. They were timid, keeping to themselves as many twins do, almost having a language of their own.

I can vividly recall our first day of school. Not kindergarten, we didn’t have one of those in our tiny school district. Our pre-k was the woods, the fields and the pastures, while our keepers were old plow horses and older hunting dogs. Another noteworthy fact was that our schools were consolidated, so I didn’t know all of my classmates. There were a few of us from my small farming community and we were seated together on one side of the room – Wayne and Dwayne were seated beside me – one on one side and one on the other.

Anyway, on our first day of first grade, we assembled together with our teacher, Miss Willie Woods. All 35 of us. In fact, my graduating class numbered only 35. I was valedictorian, but out of 35 there’s not much room for bragging rights.

Once we were seated in our desks, all lined up – it hit me. I was stuck at school and my mama was not there. I remember panic setting in and the tears began to flow. When I began to cry, Wayne and Dwayne began to cry. We comforted one another the best we could, but Miss Willie made us stay, even though we begged to be released from our unfortunate incarceration.

But that’s not the focal point of this story. Back to the twins.

Folks around our small town would see Wayne and Dwayne wandering the streets hand-in-hand, wearing their normal uniform of coveralls and a red shirt or rolled up blue jeans and a blue striped T-shirt – or at least that’s the way I remember them. Once, while riding my bike, I came upon them playing with a garter snake they’d caught. I was scared to death of snakes and was afraid they’d chase me with it or throw it at me, but they didn’t. The boys were too gentle natured to even think such a thing – which leads me to the main thrust of this anticdote…

One day, the boys were playing around the old Masonic lodge which was near to their house. They were crawling beneath it, peering through the window, then climbing the stairs to try the doors. As luck would have it, they got caught by some well-dressed gentleman who knew they had no business pilfering around such an esteemed, yet somewhat ramshackle building. He called them, yelled at them, chastising the twins for trespassing – even caught them by the scruff of their shirts. “Who are you boys?” he asked, probably intending to tell their parents of their misbehavior. I don’t remember which boy answered, I don’t guess it matters, because he answered for them both. “We ain’t nobody, Mister.”

You might wonder where I was at in all of this commotion and I’ll tell you. I was with my Mother who had arrived about that time to decorate the lodge room for an Eastern Star meeting. I witnessed the whole episode and so did my Mom. In fact, I can remember her relating the incident to my dad and others, laughing at their answer. “We ain’t nobody, Mister.”

Wayne and Dwayne’s motivation for remaining nameless was to stay out of trouble – but that’s not how it hit me. Considering their humble nature, it always bothered me that they chose to identify themselves as nobodies. While they didn’t achieve greatness in their life, they were certainly somebody.

Everybody is somebody.

In my newest book that launches in early October – The StormYou Chase – the hero, Clint Wilder, has spent a lifetime not knowing his roots. His mother was stolen from her birth parents and raised in foster care. His father, who disappeared when Clint was seven, was estranged from his family and never shared where he came from or who his relations might be. This lack of a tangible past haunted Clint. When he grew up, he bought a ranch on a road named Nameless, next to the historical one-room schoolhouse of the same name – Nameless School. Clint felt a kinship with the place and would wander down and sit in the darkness of the small white clapboard building, imagining young students sitting at the old-fashioned desks, all waiting for the bell to sound so they could run out of the old double doors into the bright sunshine of the Nameless community.

While Clint is fiction, the small community of Nameless is not. In fact, that clapboard schoolhouse, a cemetery, and what remains of the oddly named community lies about nine miles from my house. I drive by it often, the wildflowers grow profusely on the small two-lane highway and the Balcones Preserve butts up to the road, allowing for the sighting of much wildlife. I’ve seen two strange things on the road – one was a ring-tailed civet and the other was a small monkey – swear to God. I’d like to think it was a baby Bigfoot, but who knows.

Of course, there is a story behind the Nameless community. In the 1860's pioneers settled along Sandy Creek, about a half day’s horseback ride northwest of the capitol building in Austin, Texas. The residents of the tiny rural community primarily made their living cutting cedar posts and raising cotton. Eventually, the neighbors decided they needed improved mail service. They banded together to petition Washington for a post office for the growing hamlet. In order to do so, they needed to give their village a name. Over a period of time, six different names were submitted to the bureaucrats in charge, but each suggestion was shot down. The community representative was so frustrated that he threw up his hands and declared – “Let this place be nameless and be damned!” Thus, the town of Nameless was born.

The post office was founded and opened for business in the year 1880, bearing the name of Nameless. By 1884 the small community featured a church, a school, a general store and 50 residents. But growth for Nameless was not in the cards. For all of the trouble it took the residents to get their post office, it only lasted a decade before it was closed in 1890. The buildings of the town were torn down or fell into disrepair over the years. The town's cemetery, as is often the case, remained and became an epitaph not only for the individuals laid to rest there but also the entire community it once served.

Below is a picture of the only building that remains today - the old Nameless school house. It was constructed in 1909 on a site that was used for a school going back to the 1870's. It continued to serve classes up through 1945. The schoolhouse also served as a church and polling location in the past. It serves as the only architectural reminder of the town without a name, that name being Nameless.

In the late 1800’s another historical oddity occurred in the same area. A Yankee named Barrett moved to Nameless from Illinois. There’s not much known about Mr. Barrett other than he appreciated a good story – which is a condition that I can easily relate to.

The best story anyone from Nameless could relate, other than how the town got its name, was the story about the local hermit, a man who lived in a nearby cave filled with treasure. (Of the 6000 or so caves located in the limestone region of the Texas Hill Country, many of them are either haunted or supposedly filled with treasure – or both. I have ghost hunting equipment, now all I need is a metal detector.)

Upon hearing the story of the old hermit and his treasure, Barrett was hell-bent on finding it. An article in the June 18^th, 1885 edition of the Austin Daily Statesman reported that Mr. Barrett invented a mineral rod – which must have been akin to a dousing rod – that when held just above the earth, would reveal the location of filthy lucre in mineral form. One stipulation to the rod’s usage was that you couldn’t be carrying loose change in your pockets – too much interference, I suppose.

Though the treasure had been lost for years, at the time of the writing of the Statesman’s article, everyone in the area could tell you the location of that cave. They all claimed it was located on a high bluff overlooking Big Sandy Creek, about 200 feet above the water on the side of a sheer cliff. Due to the inaccessibility of the location and the fact that it was supposed to be haunted – people weren’t falling over one another to explore the place.

Except Mr. Barrett.

On the morning of June 16^th, he emptied his pockets of loose change, and set out to brave the cave. Accompanied by a friend who lowered him in a basket down the side of the cliff, he took his rod, his pick – and set out to discover treasure.

Sure enough, he found a cave full of beautiful stalactites columns which flowed from floor to roof – but the real oddity stood in the middle of the cavern. The hermit sat on a stone chair like a king on his throne. Unfortunately, the cave’s resident wasn’t alive – he was petrified. His right hand rested on the head of a bust of Napoleon and his left hand, holding a crucifix, was pressed to his heart. A petrified dog lay at his feet. The room also held the remains of furniture and utensils. The only thing that wasn’t in the room – was any treasure.

Barrett did not give up, however. He was convinced there were other rooms farther back in the cave and he was determined to explore them.

The article relates that Mr. Barrett did not wish to be interrupted and would report to the public once he made a discovery. Since no other articles on that subject can be found in the Statesmen or any other news source of the era, we can assume Mr. B either did not find the treasure or chose not to reveal it when he did so.

Of course, it’s fitting that the cave doesn’t have a name. After all, it was in the vicinity of Nameless, Texas.

Thank you for listening to me ramble –

Sable

                                             This is the NAMELESS SCHOOL

And this is where I envision Clint’s ranch is located – right nextdoor. We call it Sunset Ranch.

Excerpt Sunday for Christmas at Ruby's Ranch by Rhonda Frankhouser

Come along for the ride as the four stubborn, passionate matriarchs of Ruby's Ranch discover the truth of their family legacy

HERE’S A SNEAK PEEK Christmas at Ruby’s Ranch – Book 4 of the award-winning Ruby’s Ranch Series! Due to release November 1, 2019

Will Ruby’s holiday wishes come true, or will family secrets devastate their happy reunion?

This year the Ruby’s Ranch family will celebrate Christmas together for the first time in two decades. It’s the miracle Ruby MacCallister prayed for since the day her mother inexplicably disappeared, splitting the family apart.

When an anonymous gift arrives on the doorstep a few weeks before the big holiday, a very pregnant Ruby, finds herself enmeshed in the intrigue surrounding Granny Rube’s death again.

Excerpt

Chapter One

Knock, knock, knock, echoed through the quiet house. Ruby jerked awake, wondering if she’d dreamt the sound. 

When the knock came again on the front door, her protective chocolate Labradors, Heidi and Ho, rushed to her bedside. Low menacing growls rumbled from their chests. She cradled her pregnant belly and peered at the clock.

Three a.m.

What the hell?

She pulled back the heavy comforter and shivered when the cold in the room touched her bare legs. Covering her body with one of Billy’s flannel shirts, she waddled up the hall, one faithful dog at each side, to see who dared bang on the door at such a late hour. Out the kitchen window, the fog was so thick, she could barely make out the greenhouse across the yard.

Knock, knock, knock. The rapping sounded again, more insistent this time.

Chills crawled up Ruby’s spine as the dogs rushed toward the door barking, hair high on their necks. She was alone in the house. Momma and Daddy were in their bungalow at the far end of the corrals. Billy and Stan, the ranch foreman, would be away at least another day. The wranglers who’d stayed for Christmas, would all be sound asleep in the bunkhouse. 

Ruby nudged the fireplace room drape aside and peered into the darkness. No strange vehicle or horse was in the drive. The view to the door was obscured by Granny Rube’s rose bushes clinging to the trellis.

Knock, knock, knock, came again, loud and staccato. Ruby gasped and stepped away from the window, her nerves shaken, the dogs steady by her side. Come on, quit being such a girl.

She straightened her shoulders and snugged the flannel tighter against her growing belly. To be safe, she grabbed the trusty squirrel shooter from behind the door. Holding it in her arms, she flipped open the lock.

The glass knob felt cold as it turned in her hand. Slowly, she pulled open the door, met only by a wall of mist. The dogs rushed out to investigate but the porch was empty, and the night was still.

Ruby scanned the yard and up the drive for retreating lights but saw nothing. No one. When she stepped out to look around, her foot thudded against something hard. A square, lightweight, wooden box skidded a few inches, coming to rest against the rusty pot that hid the spare key.

“What on earth?” She squatted and picked up the box, peering cautiously into the darkness. The dogs had disappeared up the path toward the barn. She still didn’t see anyone. Who had delivered this carton?

Ruby backed through the threshold, with the box in hand. She shut the door with her bare foot and locked herself inside. With the 22-rifle stowed back in its hiding place, she walked to the kitchen and set the package down on the table.

She glanced one last time out the window, then blew out a frustrated breath. “Looks like the ghosts of Ruby’s Ranch have come a-callin once again.”

Chapter Two

Ruby drew the kitchen curtains and flipped on the light. She nudged her long, strawberry-blonde hair behind her shoulders and leaned closer to the gift to get a better look. “What could this be?”

Wrapped in expensive foil paper, a red velvet ribbon secured the lid in place. There was no card attached.

“Don’t be an idiot, Ruby. Wait for the boys to get home.”  

She contemplated the gift as she brewed an extra strong cup of decaf and added far too much cream and sugar.

When she sat down and took a hearty sip, she spit the coffee back into the cup and wiped her hand across her mouth. “Oh, that’s disgusting!” The coffee too rich for her hormone ravaged taste buds, she set the cup on the table and pushed it away.

Augie, the house’s protective spirit, surrounded Ruby with his calming presence, which gave her the courage to pull the box in close. Her fingertips glided across the glittery red paper. “Seems too fine a wrapping job to hold anything dangerous, but still, I should wait. That would be the smart thing to do.”

But she couldn’t help herself. The ribbon unfurled with a simple tug and the paper fell open at the seams. The wooden box was fashioned from pieces of pine board, artistically tongue and grooved at the edges, the RR brand burned into the lid.

“Ruby’s Ranch? What the hell?” She whispered, her mind running a hundred miles an hour.

She jumped to her feet and hurried through the front door. “Come back and talk to me! You can’t do this to me now. I’m about to have a baby!” She called out into the foggy darkness for her mystery delivery person to return, but no one answered.

Heidi and Ho barked and returned quickly to her side, panting hard from a long run. The horses whinnied in the barn and cattle mooed in protest of being disturbed in the middle of the night.

Finally, Stan’s grandson Matthew hustled up the path from the bunkhouse, feet halfway into his boots, buttoning his pants. His cheeks flushed bright red, calling attention to the sparse stubble blossoming on his chin.

“Miss Ruby, are you okay? Is it time?” He asked breathlessly, eyeing her bare feet.

He stepped closer and laid a supportive hand on Ruby’s shoulder. She saw concern in the innocent blue eyes. A mess of dark curls framed the handsome face, and a slept in T-shirt twisted around his narrow waist.

Ruby couldn’t help but smile. He was as adorable as his grandfather. Sweet and naïve, with a dash of spit and vinegar, especially when he held Ruby’s younger sister, Emma, in his adoring gaze. “I’m sorry, Matthew. I’m fine. Go back to bed.”

When she turned toward the house, he touched her elbow. “Were you looking for someone?”

“As a matter of fact, yes.”

“Cause I thought I heard footsteps heading up the path, and the dogs chasing after, but . . . ”

Before he could finish his sentence, Ruby stopped him, “Please saddle my horse. I’ll be right out.”

Chapter Three

She hurried into the house and changed into the only riding clothes that still fit. Her well-worn Ariats, thankfully, slipped on her feet without her having to bend. After catching her breath from the exertion of dressing, she tugged on her warmest coat, tied a scarf around her neck, then slipped her hands into deerskin gloves and pushed her cowboy hat down tight.

Matthew watched her nervously when she approached.

“Ready?” Ruby took Sadie’s reins from his shaking hand.

“Can I help you up, Miss Ruby?”

 “I think I can handle it.” She winked, then prayed to herself that she was right.

Ruby awkwardly crawled on to Sadie’s back and headed up the path, her keen eyes focused on the ground. Smallish boot prints turned to hoof prints when the person rode a horse toward Haley’s Peak. Dawn had broken, but the sun was yet below the mountain. The subtle breeze felt like ice sliding against her bare face.

Beside her on his sturdy palomino stud, Matthew said, “I mean no disrespect, but should you be riding in your condition, Miss Ruby? ‘Specially out in this cold.”

Ruby glanced over her shoulder and smiled at the flustered young man mumbling to himself, obviously wondering how he’d become an unwitting accomplice. She patted the gentle Appaloosa mare on her white spotted rump. “Don’t fret. Sadie rides as smooth as a rocking chair. She’ll take good care of me. Won’t you, girl?”

Even Sadie seemed extra watchful and cautious, as they traveled higher into the mountains at the break of winter’s dawn. The dirt trail was swallowed by frosty, wet grass. When Ruby dismounted to investigate, a sharp pain shot through her groin causing her back to spasm. 

“Ouch! Calm down, little missy. We’re almost done. Don’t be so impatient.” She cradled her heavy belly.

“Ma’am?” Matthew asked, thinking she’d spoken to him.

“I’ve lost the trail. The hoof prints disappeared. So much for our mystery rider.” Sadie’s head popped up at the sound of a coyote call in the distance and the screech of a hoot owl over the open field.

Matthew hopped down next to her and peered around. “Whoever it was must-a sprouted wings and flown off from here.”

Ruby massaged the cramp from her low back, glancing around one last time before gingerly mounting on Sadie again. “Let’s get to the house. I need to lie down. And I don’t want anyone missing us. It’s not worth their worry.”

“Yes ma’am,” Matthew’s voice hitched with relief.

During the long ride home, the baby kicked and fussed for space, making Ruby realize the foolishness of riding two weeks before her due date. Matthew stayed by her side, ever watchful for unwanted predators who might leap out from the thick fog.

“Ah, damn it.” Ruby slumped in the saddle, spotting Billy’s truck in the drive. She’d have some explaining to do.

She slid down off the horse, careful not to jostle the baby too much, and handed Matthew the reins. “Our little secret, right?”

He tipped his hat. “Yes ma’am, my lips are sealed.”

Billy was halfway up the path before she took another step. His concerned, green eyes assessed her. He pulled Ruby into his arms and trailed his hands down her back. “Ruby Marie, what the hell are you doing riding this close to givin’ birth?”

She nuzzled into the warmth of his unshaven neck. His familiar musky scent filtered through her. “You mind us going inside? I’m freezing.” She slid her arm beneath his wool-lined denim jacket and matched his slow steps back to the house.

Stan stood on the porch, shoulders hunched, hat in hands. His expressive eyes creased from years of riding in the sun. What hair he had left was pressed tight against his head where his old Stetson rode. “Young lady, what were you thinkin’?”

“Oh relax, I’m fine. Why are y’all back from the auction already, anyhow?”

The old man’s funny scowl made her laugh. It was still hard for Ruby to believe this loyal friend, who stayed by Granny Rube’s side even after Grandpa Mac was killed, once had a wife and two little girls of his own. If not for Matthew, she’d probably never have known about them at all.

Stan tugged off his dirty boots, then pushed open the door for them to pass. “Billy popped up outta bed and said we needed ta get home. Damned if he wasn’t right. Look at you, riding in the ice cold like a fool.”

Appreciating the fatherly advice, Ruby kissed Stan’s weathered cheek as she passed him in the doorway. “I said, I’m fine. Now, stop fussing at me and let’s have some coffee.”

Billy helped Ruby off with her coat and removed his boots before entering the kitchen. He was gorgeous, even exhausted and irritated. Snug jeans couldn’t hide his strong legs, and a wrinkled riding shirt showed a tuft of sexy hair over the top button. He tossed his hat on the counter and ran his hand through his chestnut waves.

Ruby let out a long, thankful breath, admiring him. “I’m really glad you’re home.”

“You wanna tell me what’s going on?” Billy looked at her, his unrelenting gaze demanded answers.

Stan stood dead still, focusing on the mysterious pine box sitting on Granny Rube’s fine oak table. “You mind tellin’ me what the hell that thing is doing here?”

Releasing November 1st....Pre-order BUYLINK

Join the Ruby’s Ranch intrigue from the beginning:

RETURN TO RUBY’S RANCH

ESCAPE FROM RUBY’S RANCH

LEGACY OF RUBY’S RANCH

CHRISTMAS AT RUBY’S RANCH

About the Author

After fourteen years in hospice care management in central California, Rhonda Frankhouser now writes full time from her lovely Atlanta, Georgia home. Rhonda's award-winning Ruby's Ranch Series, earned a finalist honor in the Uncaged Review Raven Awards; a second runner up in the prestigious InD'Tale Magazine RONE awards and a Book and Benches, Reviewers Top Pic ~ Books of Distinction award. Her follow up Shadowing Souls Series and Let Yourself Believe Series, have captured the attention of both romance and mainstream readers alike. Rhonda is a happily married stepmom to three beautiful daughters; two adorable pugs and a lazy Labrador named Dutch.

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