Romance: The Quarterback's Touch, page 33
“I love you Luther Gains.” He smirked.
“I love you too.”
Ordered by a Billionaire Rancher
By: Michelle Webster
Ordered by a Billionaire Rancher
© Michelle Webster, July 2016 – All rights reserved
Published by Steamy Reads Publishing
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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events are purely coincidental. This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only.
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Warning
This book contains graphic content intended for readers 18+ years old.
If you are under 18 years old, or are not comfortable with adult content, please close this book now.
Chapter 1
Joanna sighed, rubbing at the sweat on her brow. The textile factory was very hot. Sheila shot her a frustrated look across the way. If the boss found them rubbing at sweat, it was very possible they would get fired. This factory was focused on output, not quality. The long hours and little pay were difficult to stomach, but it was all they had in their little town. Massachusetts was not the best place to be; it snowed often, the cold weather made it impossible to be a full time farmer, and the ports were often clogged with ice.
The bell rang, signaling the end of the workday. It was finally seven o’clock, and Joanna was exhausted. Sheila came over to her as she put the fabric she was working with on a shelf.
“I am so glad to be going home.” Her friend smiled. “How about you?”
“I agree. The hours felt longer than usual today.” Rubbing at her wrist, Joanna walked with her friend. Last week, she had hurt her wrist trying to lift a heavy box. She had managed to hide it from her boss for a week, but she was not sure how much longer she would be able to work with it. Her wrist had practically doubled in size – not that anyone would notice.
“How is your wrist?” Sheila approached the topic gingerly as they walked off the factory grounds.
“If I do not get fired for slowing down, I am going to be very lucky.” Without realizing it, she had managed to make a joke. Sheila giggled, but did not let it last long. Her stomach growled. It was followed by her friend’s stomach.
“Let’s go get some dinner.”
“What is still open? I know the soup kitchen closed an hour ago, and all the bars are full of rowdy, drunk men now.” She brought up a good point. “Is the farmer’s market still open?”
“If it is, we are too far to make it before it closes. I guess we have to be satisfied with whatever is left at the home.” Sheila sighed after speaking. “I hate these long hours.”
“Unfortunately, there is nothing we can do about it right now, Sheila.” There had been riots last week to have fewer work hours a day, but everyone involved had been fired from their jobs. Immigrants had been hired, and there had been few complaints. Of course, many of them could not speak English. At all.
“We should have been part of the riots, Joanna. That is all I am saying.”
“And lose our jobs? Where would we go then?” She managed to talk some sense back into her friend. “No, we cannot be involved with those riots. Every riot may bring us closer to shorter work days, but until we are taken seriously, we have to keep our opinions to ourselves. We are not going to win if we fight like that.”
“I get it, Jo.” Sheila sighed. “Want to race home?”
“Starting at the next curb?”
“Sure.” The fastest way to get around town was a horse and buggy, but with that out of their price range, Joanna and Sheila often raced home. They stood at the edge of the curb, and got ready to race.
“Ready?” Joanna smiled. “Get set. Go!” With that, the two young women started racing down the road. They shared a home with Joanna’s sister, Sheila’s brother, and her baby sister. The brother and the big sister worked as well; he worked at the tobacco farm down the road, and she worked in a cotton mill.
Sheila won the race this time. Joanna panted heavily as she stopped running and began to walk, trying to keep from passing out.
“Why do you always win?” She managed to say something, and laughed when Sheila simply nodded victoriously. As she slowed down, she could smell smoke.
“Is Joseph cooking again?” Sheila voiced the question on her mind. Shrugging, they walked into the old house and found it empty. Joanna frowned. Sheila sighed, and sat down on the ragged, wooden chair.
“Maybe the little bakery is on fire.” Joanna managed to say something, but they both seemed to be wondering the same thing: was it the textile factory on fire? It was their only place of work, and who would hire two poor girls if the factory burnt down?
“I hope…” Sheila did not dare finish the sentence. Without thinking, they both ran out of the small home. The door was left ajar.
Down the streets, around the corners, and dodging horses, they eventually found themselves at the source of the fire. Red and orange flames lit the darkening sky. The sun set paled in comparison to the flames. Wood crackled, and it smelled as if something more than wood was burning. If anything, fabric would make it smell that horrible.
Joanna simply hoped they were wrong, and that they were standing in front of a small store instead of the textile factory.
Police officers stopped them, but it had not dawned on them yet. Only when Mr. Whitman – the factory owner – walked out of the fire with some help did they realize that it was the factory on fire.
One of their coworkers came over to them and told them what happened. One of the machines overheated. There had not been enough water or something, and it had begun to smolder. No one noticed until it was too late. The fire was a complete accident, but it left everyone at the same spot: without a job, and without a way to earn a living.
Joanna and Sheila shared a worried look. In their small town, it would take forever for the local government to find the time to fix up the textile mill. Their only hope of finding a job was the local paper, but it would not come out for two more days. They could pay one more month of rent, but if they did not find jobs soon, they would be out on the streets.
She could see the worry in Sheila’s eyes. Without their pay, where would her brother and sister go? Joanna was not as worried about her sister; she was the younger one, and her sister had a steady job.
Wrapping an arm around Sheila’s shoulders, she desperately tried to come to terms with the situation. The police officers began to shoo people away, and she gently led Sheila away from the factory. While they were both incredibly shocked, her friend had it even worse.
“Sheila?” She spoke, trying to snap her friend back into reality. It took a moment to kick in, but it worked.
“Where will Joseph and Edna go?” Her friend’s words were expected. “I cannot bear to lose them, Jo!”
“You will not lose them, Sheila.” She managed to calm her friend down. “We will simply have to wait until the paper comes out, and find a job that way. You can ask Joseph to keep an eye open for a job at the tobacco field, if you want.”
“What about at the cotton mill?”
“There has not been an opening there for years, Sheila.” Joanna sighed. “Our only hope is that paper, or Joseph.” With that said, the rest of the walk home was silent.
Joanna could not help but let the worry creep back into her thoughts. Dorothy would be fine on her own. In fact, she had been promoted and was getting ready to move out and into the mill. They were on the last leg for this home, and the factory fire only made it worse.
Her only question now was what she would do if there were no jobs available.
Chapter 2
The paper finally came around, and it was on time, thank goodness. As the news buggy passed by, with newsies shouting “papes for a penny”, she scrounged up a penny from her last paycheck.
“One pape for the lovely lass.” The newsie – or paper boy – she spoke to tipped his worn beret to her. She handed him the penny as he passed her a paper from his sack. “Thank you, Miss.”
“No, thank you.” She managed a smile, and held the paper with tight knuckles.
Sheila had insisted she buy her own, so all Joanna had to do was find a place to look at the paper in peace. An alleyway with a large, open space between the roofs was all she could find.
She plopped down on a small wooden crate in the alleyway. It had probably been used to transport something from nearby. She did not much care what it had been used for; it was good enough to sit on and read the paper for a few minutes.
She skipped over the story about a rash of robberies. A story about the factory fire had even made it into the paper, but she skipped over that too. Other stories she skipped included a possible strike in New York City from the newsies, and a story about the possibility of better work hours and safer conditions in the area. In the middle of the paper, she found a job ad.
It did not sound too interesting, if she were honest with herself. It was for a job in a factory a few towns over. It was not doable. An ad on the next page called for men only, which made her angry.
The only other job ad she could find was one for a mail order bride. She had heard stories from Dorothy about these jobs; it was very difficult to verify the job without going to meet the man and often showing up was taken as an application.
Despite how uneasy it made her feel, she read the job description. The man had a ranch in Montana – a good two weeks’ journey from where she was. He described himself as a wealthy man, but a man without time to raise a child alone. His sister and brother-in-law had died in a horrific fire the year before, leaving him in charge of their ten-year-old daughter.
The ad specifically noted that this would not be a marriage of love. He was looking for a woman who could simply help him raise a child, and maybe help around the ranch. There was a very low possibility of seeing each other often, but bed and board would be included in the payment. The woman who he chose would also get a handsome payment and money as needed for clothes and other things – particularly for the niece, but also for herself.
With a sigh, Joanna folded the paper up and walked back home. There was no other option; she would have to answer the mail order bride ad. Hopefully Sheila had better luck than her, but she doubted it. Unless one of her pages was missing, there were only three job ads in the weekly paper.
When she finally arrived home, she found Sheila packing up.
“I am going to answer a mail order bride ad from the next town. One of Joseph’s friends told him about it.” Her friend wasted no time. “If I get the job, Joseph and Edna can come with me.”
“I was about to say that I am going to answer a mail order bride ad as well.” She found herself stupefied. “In Montana.”
“Montana?” Sheila looked up from her ratty suitcase, furrowing her brows. “How did you find an ad for a job in Montana?”
“It was in the paper. The bad news is that it is a two-week journey there – Dorothy went last year for some reason – and I do not have the money to make the journey.” Joanna bit her lip after she finished. She was not sure what to say now.
“I am planning to walk to the next town over; it is less than a day’s journey. Here.” Sheila handed her a good bundle of money. “It is our emergency fund; all of it. You need it more than I do.”
“Thank you, Sheila.” She hugged her friend tight. “I will miss you.”
“Good luck in Montana. My arms are always open if you need somewhere to stay.” Her friend hugged back, with a slight smile on her face.
“Thank you, Sheila.” She managed a smile. “I will see you around, then. When do you leave for the next town?”
“Tomorrow. Could you wait until then to leave for Montana?” Her friend pulled away. “We can pack now, and have a small party tonight?”
“I like the sound of that.” She smiled a little. “We can all go for a walk along the river and pick oranges?”
“I would like that. Joseph might fuss at us a little, but he can stay if he really wants to.” With that, Sheila returned to packing. Edna sat in a corner, playing with the newspaper that she had picked up.
“Thanks, Sheila.” She smiled a little. “Good luck.”
“You too.” Her friend smiled a little, and then closed up her suitcase. Joanna pulled hers out from under her bed, and began to pack up her few belongings. A clean dress, an old pair of boots, and a scuffed pair of boots were the first things to go in. A hairbrush followed, with a hand mirror. She placed her other dress – dirty from wear the other week – in on top, and closed her suitcase. Her one piece of jewelry, a necklace that was on its last leg, would be worn every day on her trip to Montana. It would ensure that it lasted, but she would not be sure of that until she arrived at the man’s home.
She read over the ad one more time. This time, she found the man’s name. He introduced himself as Walter Partridge, and his niece as Annie Bishop-Partridge. She recognized the last name. Partridge Textiles was a large industry, and rivaled the little factory she had been working at. They had a good reputation, even here.
She would be Joanna Partridge if he hired her for the job. If he hired her for the job, her chances of finding a match for love would be shot. In such a dire situation, however, she knew she could not hold out her dreams. With no other options, she would have to sell herself.
The only consolation to taking the job was the fact that in his ad, Mr. Partridge had noted that he would not want to have kids with the woman that filled the job. She was not selling herself for sex, as far as she was aware. Her sister had mentioned during her stories about mail order brides that a man would never specify that he was looking for sex. That would only be made known after a woman agreed to the position.
Joanna had half a mind to share some of Dorothy’s stories with Sheila as they waited for the others to come home from work. There was nothing she wanted more than for her friend to be happy, but could her friend be happy with answering a mail order bride ad?
That thought scared her. Could she be happy in this job? It would mean leaving everything she knew, everyone she loved, and starting anew with a man she hardly knew. Dorothy would not be sad to see her go. Joseph might be upset to see her move so far away, and Edna had no opinion.
Sheila was the only one that was certainly upset to see her go. Joanna was not too excited either, but she had no other choice.
The door opened, and startled her out of her thoughts. Joseph was home, which meant that Dorothy would be home in a few minutes. Leaning his beat up bike against the wall, Joseph furrowed his brows as he noticed Joanna’s suitcase packed up.
“You too?” He frowned as he spoke. “You are going too?”
“I am going to Montana.” Joanna managed to find the words. “I need the job.”
“I hope you are happy in Montana.” Joseph managed to find something to say. His blue eyes dimmed with tears, but he looked away before they could fall. Any chance she had of a real relationship with him was officially gone.
“Thanks.” She managed a smile.
“What kind of ad are you answering?” Joseph continued the conversation. With a sigh, she told him. His brows furrowed angrily for a moment, but when she added that it would be almost like a nanny job, he seemed to relax. “Visit soon, okay?”
“I will write the address of the man down for Sheila.” Joanna managed a smile. “We were thinking of taking a walk by the river together when Dorothy comes home.”
“I have an early shift tomorrow. I really should not…but…when are you leaving?” He tried to get out of it, but did not seem to want it.
“Tomorrow, when Sheila leaves.”
“Then I guess I will be late for work tomorrow.” With that decided, all that was left was to wait for Dorothy, and enjoy their last night as a joined family.
Chapter 3
For two weeks, Joanna hitched rides on passing carriages and horses. Some would give her the ride for free. Others insisted she pay a portion of their fee. More often than not, she was rejected; she did not blame them.
She looked ragged by the time she reached Montana. The bottom of her dress was covered in caked on mud and dried bits of grass. Her face had streaks of dried blood and dirt from various cuts and falls. Her suitcase was getting ready to fall apart at the seams, and it took everything she had not to let it.
Now, she stood at the edge of Mr. Partridge’s property. She could see his house in the distance, and began to walk towards it. There was little snow because it was now summer. The last of the frost from spring had yet to completely melt away. The refrozen ice crackled under her feet with every step, and it reminded her of where she was: on the cusp of a new job.
She only hoped he had not already filled the position.
Eventually, she arrived at the ranch house. It was quaint, and quite different than what she was used to. It was one story, but seemed to stretch on for miles. There was a light dusting of snow on the roof. The porch wrapped around the front of the home, and she could see a man on the porch. He looked to be slightly older than her, but she was not sure if it was Walter Partridge.
