The massive airplane hurtled down the runway before lifting almost effortlessly in to the air. Francis closed his eyes and as he did he felt Rosa reach across and squeeze his hand gently.
“It's not all that bad.” She said, keeping her head leaned flat against the headrest of her chair. “It's sort of like a ride at an amusement park.” Francis didn't have the heart to tell her that he had never been to one before. Or, in fact, that he found very little to be amused about in his unusual existence at all. He had a feeling that she might understand, but he also knew that once he started opening up to her, that he wouldn't be able to stop. Then, before he knew it every last one of his secrets would have tumbled out and he would find himself next to another lifeless body. He wouldn't do that to Rosa. He couldn't do that to Rosa. He might have killed before, but then it was only out of necessity. Every single life he had taken had been necessary to his survival.
Francis glanced across at Rosa. Her eyelids fluttered in her sleep and her lips periodically parted as if she were going to speak. No matter how much he tried to convince himself to let her go, not to give her his contact information, to slip quietly in to the realms from whence he came, he couldn't. There was something in her. Something that told him he needed her, something driven by his need for an heir to his bloodline. Rosa was his one, the one he couldn't let go even if he wanted to. She was to become the mother to his son.
The End
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The Billionaire’s Mail Order Bride
A Western Romance
By: Lisa Cartwright
Copyright 2015 by (Lisa Cartwright) - All rights reserved.
In no way is it legal to reproduce, duplicate, or transmit any part of this document in either electronic means or in printed format. Recording of this publication is strictly prohibited and any storage of this document is not allowed unless with written permission from the publisher. All rights reserved.
Respective authors own all copyrights not held by the publisher.
Chapter One
“That’s illegal. And ridiculous. Wills like that don’t have any legal basis.”
“I’m afraid you’re wrong about that. Your father maneuvered his way through the legal problems very adroitly. He simply said that you had to get your life in order before you received your inheritance and left the definition of ‘life in order’ solely to the discretion of his lawyer. He gave strict, verbal instructions to the lawyer that included producing an heir within a year.” He pounded on his desk with two fingers. “You’re stuck, Nathan. You’ve got to find a wife before you get the gold mine.
The two men sat in a law office in downtown Denver. The man behind the desk was Winthrop Johnson, a lawyer in the firm of Johnson, McCoy and Whithers. The man in front of it was Nathan Burdette who didn’t like hearing Johnson’s words at all.
Nathan Burdette didn’t smile; at least, no one who had anything to do with him had ever seen him smile. It wasn’t just that he didn’t find anything funny in his life; it was that nothing ever made him feel a positive emotion. The same father who willed him the gold mine, left the family when Nathan was only twelve. His mother was sickly, and Nathan had to raise himself and his little brother and sister from that day forward. The responsibility made him center himself tightly in rigid self-discipline. Now, at age 26, his sister and brother were both grown and gone. Nathan had no one and didn’t have the social skills to get anyone.
Nathan was pleasing to look at. At six feet four inches tall, he towered over most other men in the mining town of Denver. His shoulders looked to the women who saw him to be broad enough to carry their needs anywhere they wanted. He’d worked in the mines since he was thirteen, and it gave him a thickly muscled upper body and sturdy legs. Women looked at him twice then saw his eyes and looked away.
Mr. Johnson asked, “What are you going to do?”
Nathan said, “I hire people all the time. I’ll do this the same way. I’ll put a notice in the papers and interview applicants. It shouldn’t be that hard.”
Nathan ran an ad that read:
Woman wanted for position of bride. Must be willing to live-in. No salary but generous room and board. Must be able to produce a child within a year. Efforts to create a pregnancy will start on date of hire. Wire Nathan Burdette, Denver telegraph station. Time sensitive situation.
Victoria Manning taught school in Kansas City, Kansas. She was tall and shapely and should have had suitors enough to keep her off-hours full to overflowing.
She never went out because she didn’t look like she’d ever smiled in her life. Her expression threatened harm to anyone who disturbed her.