to the Custer Trail Ranch weren’t mail-order cowboys; a lot of them could ride well. However, they did tend to dress more extravagantly than regular cowboys. The idea of traveling back east to recruit guests and needing references from them is also true. The story about Teddy Roosevelt, who was a friend of the Eatons, and his robber bedfellow is supposedly true, as well. In 1904, the Eatons left North Dakota and moved their dude ranch to Wyoming. Their ranch is still in existence today.
It wasn’t until 1904 that Golden Hair, from the story of the three bears, was named Goldilocks. Also, of interesting note—for years, the tale was meant as a cautionary one to children about not snooping about where they shouldn’t.
Having already set one story in the beautiful countryside near Sheridan and the Big Horn Mountains, I was excited to set another there. I also enjoyed giving Vienna and West, two secondary characters from my last Love Inspired Historical The Rancher’s Temporary Engagement, their own happily-ever-after. It was a lot of fun to write their marriage of convenience story, as well.
My hope is that, like West, readers will also realize God doesn’t love us just because we do what He wants. He loves us unconditionally. I also hope that, like Vienna, readers will recognize their own inner strength and abilities, and that with God that strength can be magnified.
I love hearing from readers. You can contact me through my website at www.stacyhenrie.com.
All the best,
Stacy
To...give unto them beauty for ashes, the oil of joy for mourning, the garment of praise for the spirit of heaviness; that they might be called trees of righteousness, the planting of the Lord, that he might be glorified.
—Isaiah 61:3
To all of the Love Inspired Historical team and readers
Thank you! It’s been an honor to be a part of this experience with you.
Contents
Near Big Horn, Wyoming, July 1901
Vienna Howe didn’t immediately take note of the knocking at the door. From inside the ranch house kitchen, she thought the pounding sounded more like the distant thwack of a hammer than anything else. She blew a breath upward to disrupt the blond hairs sticking to her damp forehead, her hands covered in pastry dough. The wranglers at the Running W Ranch never turned down her food—especially not dessert.
“Who’s at the door, Mommy?” Two-and-a-half-year-old
