Come Home to Me (Second Chances Time Travel Romance Series Book 1)

by Peggy L Henderson

  “I think the parents got sick, and Wilson left them behind. Michael hasn’t been dead more than a few hours.”

  “How many more are sick and dying?” Rachel wondered. She stood on unsteady legs to climb from the wagon. Jake leaped from his horse and reached for her before she had a chance to put her foot on the wagon wheel.

  “I don’t know,” he said, his breath warm against her ear. His hands spanned her waist as he lifted her from the wagon, and she held on to his shoulders for support. He swallowed, his jaw tense, and stared down into her eyes. Rachel held his gaze.

  “Don’t think about it right now. Until we catch up with the others, there’s no sense worrying. I only hope the majority of them are following my instructions and are boiling water and washing their hands.”

  “I know Mary and Ben Holland will do what you told them.” She lowered her head to study the dust on the ground. Tears threatened just behind her eyes. What if her boys were sick, and she wasn’t there to take care of them? She couldn’t bear losing any more members of her family.

  “The boys are fine, Rachel.” Jake’s hand tightened at her waist. He’d read her mind correctly. “Billy had a mild case. He, Tommy and David are in good hands with Mary.” He raised her chin with his fingers. He wore a serious expression that suddenly softened. Rachel concentrated on the dimples in his cheeks when his mouth curved in a reassuring smile. He hadn’t removed his hand from under her chin, and his fingers slowly slid up along her jaw, his thumb stroking her cheek.

  Rachel’s pulse quickened, and her knees went weak. Memories of this morning rushed to the forefront of her mind. The way he’d held her and kissed her was as she imagined intimacy to be like between a husband and wife. Polly had made it no secret that she enjoyed the marriage bed with Thomas.

  Rachel’s eyes stung with unshed tears. Thinking of Polly and Thomas reminded her that her world had become one of death and sorrow. Jake Owens, the man standing before her, who touched her with such passion one moment and tenderness the next, held the last shred of sunshine in her heart.

  “Nothing in this world makes sense anymore, Jake.” She gazed up at him. Nothing but you.

  The muscles along either side of his jaw twitched. He stared at her for a long time, but Rachel couldn’t read the emotions that swept across his face. Uncertainty perhaps?

  “I’d better get to work, ” he finally said, and released her.

  “Jake.” She grabbed his arm when he moved to turn away. She waited for him to face her fully. “Thank you. For being here. For everything.”

  He inhaled a deep breath, and swiped his hand across his face. “Rachel, there are some things in my past, things I need to sort out.” He placed his hand over hers on his arm.

  “The murder charges?” It didn’t matter to her. He’d told her he was innocent. Reverend Johnson believed he was innocent.

  “There’s more. I just can’t talk about it right now. Once I’ve got it worked out . . .”

  He didn’t complete his thought. He cursed under his breath and wheeled around, kicking at a rock in the dirt. Just as abruptly, he faced her again, and grabbed her by the upper arms.

  “You’re not alone, Rachel. I’m here for you, and I’ll get you safely to Oregon. You and the boys. I’ll take care of you.”

  A fierce intensity ignited in his eyes.

  “All right, Jake,” she said firmly, and nodded. It would have to be enough for now. Rachel wanted to say so much more to him. She wanted to tell him that she loved him. Fear of rejection kept her from saying the words. He’d said he’d get her to Oregon, but not that he planned to stay. She would not beg him to stay with her, so she held back her thoughts. Perhaps in time, Jake Owens might learn to love her. Oregon was still a long way away.

  Chapter 18

  Fort Laramie stood like a square sentinel on top of a low rise, looking out of place in the middle of this vast and desolate prairie. For over a month, Rachel hadn’t seen a hint of civilization anywhere, and this structure came as a complete surprise to her. Beyond the man-made fortress, in the far-off distance, the first dark outlines of mountains became visible against the horizon. The North Platte River flowed in its irregular pattern to their left, and sparse strands of cottonwoods lined the riverbanks. The trail was deep with sand, and slowed them down considerably, the mules straining in their shafts.

  Jake sat next to her on the wagon seat, his elbows resting casually on his knees as he held the reins lightly between his fingers. He looked toward the fort with interest sparkling in his eyes.

  “I’m sure you’ve been to the fort often. What’s it like?” Rachel asked, breaking the silence between them. They hadn’t spoken most of the morning, each absorbed in their own thoughts. After burning the bodies of the Horner family, along with their wagon and possessions, Jake had tied the deceased family’s team of mules to the back of her wagon along with his mare. They’d wordlessly resumed their journey, stopping just before nightfall.

  Rachel was puzzled by Jake’s uncharacteristic quiet behavior throughout the remainder of the day and into the evening and next morning, so unlike the outspoken man she’d first met a month ago. He’d said he had things to sort out. Something told her it was best to leave him alone with his thoughts.

  “I’ve only been to Fort Laramie once, a long time ago,” he finally answered. He chuckled, and shook his head. “And this area looks nothing like what I remember.”

  Rachel’s gaze followed his line of vision, puzzled by his answer. She’d assumed that, as a scout, he would have many dealings here at the fort. She dismissed her thoughts for now, taking in the scenery before her. From their approach, she guessed they were still several miles from the fort. Dozens and dozens of covered wagons camped along a cottonwood-lined river that looked to be a tributary of the Platte. Countless Indian teepees and various other tents of all shapes and sizes were spread out between the wagons. Rachel squinted to see familiar rigs, but they were still too far away. Her heart sped up at the thought of seeing the boys, dreading what she would have to tell them.

  Another kind of apprehension filled her. She’d been alone with Jake for several days. The busybodies of their company would fill their coffers with fodder for more speculation and rumors about her. Rachel sat up straighter. Why should it matter to her what they thought?

  She turned her head to find Jake staring at her intently. Her pulse quickened. He pulled back on the reins, and the wagon lurched to a stop.

  “Why are we stopping?” she asked, her palms suddenly sweaty.

  Jake twisted on the stiff seat beside her. “Because I want just one more moment alone with you.” His eyes smoldered.

  Rachel gaped at him, and the butterflies churned in her stomach. The slight breeze on her face couldn’t cool the sudden heat that crept up her neck. She blinked, but couldn’t tear her eyes from the intensity of his stare. She was sure that, even if her life depended on it, she wouldn’t be able to produce a single coherent word at the moment. He wanted to be alone with her? What did that mean?

  Her silent question was answered in the next moment. Jake brought his hand up to her face. His calloused palm slid up along her cheek, and his fingers worked themselves into some loose strands of hair at the nape of her neck.

  Rachel drew in a breath of air. Since yesterday morning, she’d yearned for him to touch her again. She couldn’t go on pretending she felt nothing for him, when his simple, tender touch made her want to melt into him. Her hand trembled, and she reached for his arm.

  I wish we had more time alone. She couldn’t utter the words.

  She closed her eyes and savored the feeling of his gentle hands on her face. He inched closer, his firm thigh pressed up against hers. He slipped his arm around her waist and pulled her to him. Rachel’s heart raced in her chest, her heartbeats pounding loudly in her ears. This was different than waking up in his arms, when she hadn’t been aware of him. How was she expected to react? What if she didn’t respond the right way? She wanted to show him that sh
e loved him, that she regretted their time alone was coming to an end.

  Jake’s thumb caressed her cheek. Her skin tingled to life where he touched her, and she leaned into his palm. His tender touch was no longer enough. She ached for the intense pleasurable feelings he’d brought to life in her the other morning. If she was to be labeled as a wanton, she didn’t care at the moment. Rachel opened her eyes. His penetrating stare greeted her.

  “There’s so much I want to say to you.” He gritted his teeth as he spoke. “Things I can’t tell you.”

  Rachel’s eyebrows drew together, and she shook her head, not understanding. Her fingers wrapped around his hand.

  “Jake, I—”

  She couldn’t finish. In the next instant, his mouth was on hers, and she forgot everything else. His lips slid across hers in a soft caress. Undemanding. Gentle. Heat rushed through her insides, and her head spun dizzily. Rachel leaned forward. She craved more than a tender kiss. Liquid fire rushed through her veins. She threw her arms around his neck, and pressed her body to his solid form wherever she could. Unfulfilled yearning surged through her, settling in her stomach, raising a new need and awareness within her. Never had she imagined that a man could bring forth such intense feelings in her.

  Jake’s kiss froze on her lips and he pulled back slightly. “Rachel?” he mumbled. His eyes widened in surprise.

  Rachel eased her hold around his neck. Was she doing something wrong? The thought had barely crossed her mind when he let out a throaty groan, and his mouth slanted across hers in a heated onslaught. His hands slid up and down her back, gripped her by the waist, and moved further down. He grabbed her thigh, pulling her leg across his lap. Rachel gasped for air. She clung to his shoulders, parting her lips to respond to his kiss. Slowly, over the last few days, she’d learned how to kiss him back, and she pressed her mouth more fully to his. Breathing became impossible. Every nerve ending where he touched her sprang to life.

  Jake’s lips trailed hot kisses along her cheek, then down her throat. With each passing second, his actions increased in intensity. He pulled her fully onto his lap, and buried his head along her neck.

  Rachel moaned his name, her hands raking though his hair, holding him to her. She shuddered in his embrace, chills of pleasure rippling up and down her spine. Jake’s hand slid between them and covered her breast, his thumb stroking across her sensitive area.

  “God, Rachel, what are you doing to me?” he breathed in her ear. “And what am I going to do about you?”

  Don’t ever let me go. Please say you’ll never let me go.

  He suddenly pulled back. Cupping her face between his hands, his eyes smoldered with an almost feral ferocity. He brought his mouth down on hers again. Slowly, he softened his kiss, until it ended as it had started, with an almost tender caress of his lips against hers.

  “Don’t stop,” she whispered, and wrapped her arms more fully around his neck. She forced air into her starved lungs, her chest heaving as if she’d just exerted herself by running for miles. Her heartbeats pulsed in her lips and drummed in her ears. An unfamiliar ache throbbed in the lower regions of her abdomen, and she was sure that only he could make it go away.

  Rachel pressed her lips to his, unwilling to let go of him. With every second that ticked by, her feeling of an unexplainable need intensified. If he kissed her just a while longer, surely it would satisfy her hunger.

  Jake gripped her waist, and pulled his head back slightly. His dark eyes registered renewed surprise as they roamed her face. His breathing was as labored as her own, and he rested his forehead against hers.

  “Sweetheart, I have to stop,” he whispered hoarsely. His words sounded forced, as if he was in pain. He peeled one of her hands away from his neck, and held it to his chest. His heart beat strong and wild beneath her palm through the fabric of his shirt.

  “Why?” she uttered. Why did he have to stop? When they returned to their company, there would be few opportunities to be together like this. Shame and embarrassment suddenly crept into her thoughts. Had she done something wrong? He’d rejected her twice already. How could he not feel what she was feeling, like her insides would burn up if he didn’t continue what he started?

  “I don’t know how I’m going to survive these next few months,” he said, his voice raspy. “You’re driving me absolutely crazy. You have no idea how gorgeous and desirable you are.” His hands slid up and down her back. Rachel’s heart swelled with love for him. Would he tell her he loved her now?

  “Jake, I . . . I lo–”

  “Hey, that’s the Parkers’ rig,” a loud voice shouted from somewhere behind the wagon. The voice was quickly followed up by the sounds of hoof beats. One of the mules tied to the back of the wagon brayed.

  Rachel nearly fell from Jake’s lap. He grabbed her arm to steady her. Hastily, she slid back onto the seat next to him. She ran a quick trembling hand up her flaming hot face and smoothed back the hair that had come loose from her bun. What if they had been seen just a few minutes sooner? Perspiration trickled between her breasts at the thought. She shot a quick glance at Jake. The look on his face was murderous, and he cursed under his breath.

  “Yep. That’s Jake’s horse,” someone else called. Seconds later, Jeb Miller and Ben Holland pulled up alongside the wagon. Rachel tried to suck air into her lungs. The hard lump in her throat made it nearly impossible.

  Jeb Miller tapped his finger to his hat, and smiled brightly at her. “Mrs. Parker. Glad you caught up with us.” His eyes darted to Jake, then back to Rachel. God! What if he saw us? Rachel wished the wagon’s floorboards would swallow her up.

  “Miller,” Jake grunted. He casually ran his hand through his hair and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. How could he remain so composed? “We found the Horner wagon yesterday. Everyone dead.”

  Jeb Miller shook his head. “Plumb shame. Henry Granger recovered. The Horners were the only other people who had it bad. Had a few other folks with some stomach cramps, but nothing else. How’s Thomas?”

  Jake shook his head. Jeb Miller yanked his hat from his head. “So sorry, ma’am,” he said, addressing Rachel. All she could do was nod, and avert her eyes. Jeb Miller cleared his throat.

  “Well, ah, we’re camped here for a few days. Got here yesterday. Wilson says for folks to stock up on things they need, and to get rid of stuff they don’t to lighten up the wagons, and make any necessary repairs. Best head on over to camp.”

  “Your boys will be glad to see you, Mrs. Parker. They’ve missed you,” Ben Holland said.

  A heavy sigh of relief escaped Rachel’s lungs. The boys were all right.

  “Lead the way, Miller,” Jake said, and slapped the reins against the mules’ backs. He shot her a look, regret and longing clearly written on his face, before his facial features hardened, and he stared straight ahead. Rachel clutched her hands in her lap. Her body still hummed from Jake’s touch. She vowed to tell him that she loved him at the next opportunity.

  ****

  “We’re going to head over to the fort. Ben wants to see about some blacksmithing he needs done on the wagon, and I have some letters to mail. How about going with us, Rachel?”

  Rachel turned to face Mary Holland. Wiping David’s face, she glanced around the hustle and bustle of this large camp, hoping to find Jake among the throng of people. Emigrants mixed with Indians and white traders, dogs barked, and horses whinnied. She hadn’t had a moment's peace and quiet since they’d arrived yesterday.

  Jake had secured a place alongside the Holland wagon to park her rig when they arrived. He’d taken care of the mules while she reunited with her nephews. She hadn’t seen him since he left camp after supper. He’d simply told her a hasty good night, and then disappeared.

  David had refused to let go of her for most of the day, clinging to her neck like a tick on a hound. Quietly, she’d explained to Tommy and Billy that their papa was now with their mama, and that both their parents were watching them from heaven. The boys had
quietly accepted her explanation that their mama must have been really lonely, and needed their papa with her, and that the four of them would now have to look out for each other.

  Talking to the children about family made her wonder about Jake. She knew he harbored ill feelings toward his family for some unknown reason. Perhaps she would ask him about it, if they ever found a moment alone together again. Several companies of emigrant trains were encamped here, not to mention all the Indians and traders. Finding time to be alone with Jake might be impossible.

  Rachel stretched her neck, trying to see past a group of Indian teepees. She couldn’t see Jake anywhere among the many people. Indian men dressed in nothing but loincloths milled about, while women carried naked children on their backs. Rachel couldn’t help but smile. What would Harriet Edwards think of these people and their lack of modesty?

  Some of the white traders had Indian wives, Rachel noticed. None of those men looked like anyone she would want to engage in business with. The women peddled moccasins and beaded jewelry, and many emigrants paid good money for the footwear.

  Mary patted her on the arm. She smiled knowingly when Rachel looked her way. “Ben was at a meeting earlier about which route to follow when we leave tomorrow. Jake is with them, arguing with Mr. Wilson again. Come and enjoy some time at the fort with me, and let the menfolk talk business. I hear it’s almost like a real town in there. It’ll get your mind off of him.”

  Rachel smiled softly, and lowered her gaze. “Is it that obvious?”

  Mary leaned forward to whisper in her ear. “If I didn’t know better, you’ve got the look about you like a newlywed bride.” She cast expectant eyes at her.

  “Oh, no, nothing like that,” Rachel said quickly, and shook her head. Heat crept up her neck into her cheeks. “I . . . we haven’t—”

  Mary laughed. “Don’t say another word, Rachel. I’m sure you haven’t, but looking at Annabelle Edwards over there, she’s about as green as the grass growing along the riverbank.”