I’m house and cat sitting for a woman who owns the cutest bungalow surrounded by a simple, yet chaotic garden on three sides of the house. Being here, if only for a few days, reminds me of how it’s the simple, little things that can make a house a home. But how did women in days gone by, create such beauty?
One of the things I love most about writing westerns is remembering that the Old West wasn’t all dust, danger, cattle drives, and gunfights. Oh, those things certainly make wonderful story fodder. Give me a stubborn cowboy, a runaway wagon, a mysterious stranger, or a heroine with more courage than sense, and I’m a happy writer. But what really brings a western town or homestead to life for me are the little touches of beauty people carried with them.
A scrap of lace, teacups wrapped carefully in cloth and packed across the country.
A packet of flower seeds tucked into a trunk. A quilt made from dresses that had seen better days. Maybe a blue ribbon saved for Sunday.
Those are the details that make my imagination wake up. I often think about the women who traveled west and what they
chose to bring when space was limited and every item had to matter. A cast-iron skillet was practical. A good needle was necessary, and a sturdy pair of shoes could make all the difference.
But then there were the things that weren’t strictly necessary and still mattered very much. Many a woman kept a pressed flower between the pages of a Bible. For some it was a pretty shawl or a bit of rose-scented soap. Many carried small pictures from home, while others packed packets of hollyhock, marigold, or sweet pea seeds.
Those little things remind me that people have always needed beauty. Not grand beauty, necessarily. Not chandeliers and ballrooms and velvet curtains. Just something lovely enough to soften a hard day.
Imagine a woman standing in the doorway of a sod house or a rough cabin. The wind is blowing dust across the yard. Supper still needs cooking. The children are muddy. Her husband is late getting back. There is work everywhere she looks.
But beside the door, a few stubborn flowers are blooming. That matters.
Maybe they came from seeds her mother gave her or she traded for them with a neighbor. Maybe she carried them across miles of prairie because she couldn’t bear to leave every pretty thing behind. That little patch of flowers says, “This is home now.”
I think that’s why I love writing heroines who create beauty wherever they land. Maybe they bake, sew, plant flowers, tend chickens, teach children, doctor neighbors, run boardinghouses, or make a lonely room feel welcoming. They’re not just surviving. They’re building something.
I western romance, that’s often what love is really about, too. Not just the grand declaration or the kiss. And let’s not forget the moment when the hero finally realizes he’s been a complete fool and had better do something about it before the heroine walks away. Though I do love that part.
Love is also in the small things. The cup of coffee waiting on the stove, the extra blanket. What about wildflowers left on a
windowsill? Or when the man who notices she’s tired. The woman who sees past his gruffness and realizes he’s lonely?
It’s these little things that make a house into a home. And sometimes, those little beauties are what make a story feel real. So today I’m thinking about the small comforts people carried into hard places. The things that didn’t look important on a packing list, but meant everything once the journey was over. A flower garden, a pretty dish, a quilt, songs, memories and hope.
Those are the things that remind us our foremothers weren’t only tough, though they certainly were that. They were also dreamers. Women who could face a hard world and still say, “I’m going to plant something beautiful here.” And honestly, I can’t think of anything more heroic than that.
What about you? What little touch makes a house feel like home to you? Is it flowers, books, quilts, family photographs, a certain scent from the kitchen, or something else entirely?



















writes inspirational historical romance with a pinch of adventure. A cheery romantic, she loves to evoke bygone days and heartwarming love stories, as seen in her 2025 debut The Bandit’s Redemption and the subsequent installments, The Bounty Hunter’s Surrender (2025) and The Convict’s Courtship (2026)—all published by Wild Heart Books. KyLee teaches preschool at a lab school in Texas, where she lives with her husband and their three teenage children. When she is not busy, she hosts
Montana Rose is one of the first books I ever wrote. Not first by any means but before any of the other five books that are included in that lineup.
A poignant Western romance about second chances, redemption, and the healing power of faith—a moving tale of a heartbroken young widow, a compassionate rancher, and the love that helps them both find their way home.












