INTERVIEW WITH RYELEE, HEROINE OF RYELEE'S COWBOY!

Today’s interview is with Ryelee Snyder from Ryelee’s Cowboy by Kathleen Ball

Welcome, ladies. Sit down. I have some coffee and lovely scones here, if you're hungry. Feel free to speak from the heart, Ryelee, it's just us girls here.  Go ahead.

Ryelee: My name is Ryelee Maloney now.

Kathleen:  I know. I just didn’t want to give away too much of the book.

Ryelee: He had to marry me. Clint is a special cowboy.

Kathleen: What I wanted to discuss with you is the misconception that I made your home life too unrealistic.

Ryelee: (laughing) If anything, you made it sound better. I lived in a rundown shack. There were many times I went without food. It was a treat to have running water, and electricity wasn’t a necessity.

Kathleen: So when I wrote that you only had a few change of clothes I wasn’t exaggerating?

Ryelee: Actually, I had less. You did get the color of the dress wrong. It was green.

Kathleen: People believe that family services would have stepped in to help you.

Ryelee: Have you seen how small the town is? We have one stoplight. There aren’t family services, not in these parts. The church people tried to help, but my father ran them off with his rifle.

Kathleen: Were you happy being a nanny to Rhennie Maloney?

Ryelee: She’s a pistol! It was the best day of my life when I met her. It was much harder than I thought it would be. I am educated, but old habits die hard. I had to bite my tongue a lot. Ain’t , damn, and hell are all words I used to use. There are more words but I don’t want our host, Jean Joachim to get upset. I’m hoping she’ll put me in one of her books. No offense.

Kathleen: I thought you said you are happy?

Ryelee: I was only kidding. She doesn’t write westerns, but I do like her new Marine series.

Kathleen: Well, let’s get into the cattle rustling.

Ryelee: I’d rather not. What’s to say? Cattle were rustled, and I got blamed.

Kathleen: Yes but don’t you want to take some ownership of the events.

Ryelee: When did you turn into DR. Phil? Ownership? I’ll tell you this. I do what I have to in order to keep my family safe. I love, and I love deeply. I didn’t think I deserved love, but you know something? My background doesn’t matter one bit to my hunky, cowboy, husband Clint Maloney. Thanks for making him so sexy by the way. 

 Kathleen: I write what I love, and I love sexy cowboys.

Ryelee: Yeah, saw your website. Now those pics I could look at all day. I did want to mention one thing- Ryelee’s Cowboy is filled with suspense. I don’t like the way you market it. I heard suspense sells better.

Kathleen: I’ll keep that in mind. Thank you for being my guest and thank you Jean for hosting us.

Ryelee: Yes, Jean, thank you-- I love my husband and I love ranch life but I also love Marines-- call me, we could do lunch. You know, you didn’t mention the kidnapping and how I got away. I would have thought that would have been the first question. 

Kathleen: I don’t want to give away the whole plot. 

Ryelee’s Cowboy by Kathleen Ball is published by Secret Cravings Publishing

Excerpt:

Ryelee flinched at the sound of the door slamming. He was gone. There would be no explanations, no forgiveness. His words pierced her heart. She wrapped her arms around the baby. She would figure something out. She always did. Now she wished she had saved her earnings instead of buying Clint that saddle for Christmas. She shook her head. She didn't regret the gift—it was given in love. She just regretted that she was broke.

She didn't relish going upstairs to her old room. She couldn’t face the loneliness of it. It all seemed surreal to her, and she wasn’t sure she had absorbed everything yet. Perhaps she was in shock. That would explain the feeling of numbness that had overcome her.

Ryelee put on her coat and walked out onto the porch. She sat on the first step, looking at the stars, wondering if anyone was looking over her. Texas nights were wonderful. The stars were so bright. She felt incredibly small compared to the massive heavens.

She would have to go home, she reasoned. It was the only place she could afford. Her father was in jail, so she would be alone. Placing her hand on the moving baby, she knew that she would never be alone again. The worst part of the whole mess was her guilt. She should have told Clint about the threats against his horses, but now it was too late now. He would never believe her again.

Ryelee couldn’t face going back into the house, Clint’s house. Looking up at the full moon, she decided she had enough light to walk back home. It wasn’t too far if she went through the woods.

Ryelee stood up and walked down the steps. She couldn’t even bring herself to look back. As the numbness wore off, Ryelee’s heart fractured into infinite pieces. Her footsteps felt as heavy as the emptiness in her chest, and she headed toward the woods.

Once in the woods, it became a great deal darker. Tears blinded her eyes, but she knew the way. Branches scratched at her skin, drawing blood, and she tripped a couple times. Her hands and knees had abrasions, but the baby seemed all right. That was all that mattered.

 The old run-down shack finally came into view. Here she was, right where she’d started. Sadness overwhelmed her spirit as she realized that all her hard work to better herself was for naught. She was pregnant, broke, and living like trash. Dottie had been right about her—she was trampy trash.

With tears pouring down her face, Ryelee walked up the rickety steps to the front door. It bruised her heart to have to open the door, but she did. The offensive odor of sweat and whisky filled the filthy place. She didn’t deserve dignity or pride. This was her own fault, and she had to accept the consequences.

Ryelee flipped the light switch and wasn’t surprised that the electricity had been turned off. That meant no heat either. She lit an old oil lamp and checked the fireplace. She praised God when she saw the pile of wood next to it. She wouldn’t freeze, not tonight. Nevertheless, she was in dire circumstances.

She dragged her old mattress from her bedroom to the fireplace. Grabbing a few clean threadbare blankets, she made herself as comfortable as possible. Exhausted and heartsick, Ryelee wiped away her tears and decided she would find a way to survive.

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To visit Kathleen's website, CLICK HERE.