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

by Peggy L Henderson

  Rachel’s gaze followed where Mary jutted her chin. Sure enough, Annabelle Edwards stood by her family’s wagon, glaring at her. Rachel turned away. She didn’t care what the little twit or her mother thought.

  “All right, Mary. A trip to the fort sounds like a fine idea.” Rachel couldn’t think of anything she needed at the post trader’s store. She still had plenty of supplies, and with one less adult, her provisions would last even longer. She’d also heard someone mention that goods in the store were outrageously expensive.

  Mary’s smile widened, and she called to her husband that they were ready to go. Rachel rounded up Billy and Tommy, and lifted David into the back of the Holland’s wagon. Billy and Tommy climbed over the tailgate, and Rachel sat with Mary and Ben on the driver’s bench. After fording the shallow Laramie Fork of the Platte River, the fort was about a mile away. It was a high walled adobe structure, with a double-gated archway.

  Rachel stared wide-eyed once they entered the fort. It did indeed remind her of a small town. The square compound was lined with multi-storied buildings. The post trader’s store was the busiest. People walked in and out at a steady rate. There was a blacksmith shop and corrals at the opposite side of the square. One section held what appeared to be residences. Rachel assumed that was where the soldiers lived.

  Ben dropped them off in front of the post trader’s store, warning his wife not to spend all their money. Mary kissed him on the cheek, a wide smile on her face. Rachel lifted David onto her hip, and warned Billy and Tommy to stay close. The boys’ eyes were larger than hers. Ben drove the wagon across the compound to the blacksmith shop.

  “Come on,” Mary said excitedly, and pulled Rachel with her inside the store. Sacks of dry goods littered the floor. The shelves were stacked with everything from coffee to tobacco, to whiskey. Rachel gaped at the outlandish prices.

  “Who would pay a dollar fifty for a pint of sugar?” she whispered to Mary. “Or a dollar for a pint of flour. That’s outrageous!”

  “Good thing Ben and I don’t need any of that,” Mary whispered back. “Let me post my letters, then we can leave. Ben would not be happy with me if I spent any money on dry goods here.”

  Rachel glanced around. Would Thomas have stocked up on more liquor, even at eight dollars per gallon? Her eyes fell on a jar of lotion. She rubbed at the dry skin on the back of her hands. For five dollars, she’d use bacon grease. Shaking her head, she decided to wait outside for Mary. Even with prices so high, it appeared as if the trader was doing a brisk business. She wanted to leave the crowded building.

  Tommy and Billy stared wide-eyed at some glass jars filled with assortments of candy. Quickly, Rachel ushered the boys outside in front of her before they asked her to buy them some. She couldn’t afford such luxuries. What little cash money she had was better spent in Oregon. She was glad for the breath of fresh air once she stepped from the stuffy store. She gazed around the compound. Several soldiers milled about, but it was mostly emigrants and some Indians that occupied the fort. Ben Holland’s rig was parked at the blacksmith’s shop, along with several other wagons. Beyond that, several women dumped tubs of water in front of the building. It appeared to be a laundry shop.

  Rachel was about to turn and see what was keeping Mary, when a familiar figure caught her eye. Jake! Her heart fluttered. He was here at the fort? She assumed he’d be with Mr. Wilson back at camp. He looked to be in a hurry, darting between a few Indians, and heading for the laundry shop. It was too far to call out to him. She headed in his direction, then stopped in her tracks. A pretty blonde haired laundress stood in the doorway of the shop, smiling at him. The neckline of her dress was cut too low to be considered proper.

  Rachel’s heart leapt to her throat. Jake approached the woman, and held her by the arm. She leaned toward him, and then they both turned and disappeared inside the building. Rachel swallowed repeatedly, the sting of tears threatening in her eyes. She hastily wiped at her face.

  “I’m all done,” Mary chimed behind her. Rachel turned away from her friend. She didn’t want to be seen with tears in her eyes.

  “I’m heading back to camp, Mary. The boys and I can walk. I’m suddenly not feeling well.” She barely managed to get the words out.

  Rachel ignored Mary’s calls and rushed to the fort’s entrance. She shifted David to her other hip, and Tommy and Billy ran to keep up with her. Tears blurred her vision, and a tightness squeezed her chest. She forced air into her lungs, the sensation of drowning threatened to overtake her. All this time, she had clung to the hope that Jake would change his ways. Clearly, she was mistaken. What a fool she’d been to believe he truly cared for her. She’d gambled with her heart, and lost. She wouldn’t be so foolish from now on.

  Chapter 19

  Jake led his mare through the emigrant camp, eager to call an end to this day. He waved off traders wanting to peddle their wares and in a few instances, their women. He smirked. There was only one woman he was interested in, and he hadn’t seen her all day. Leaving her camp after supper the night before had been difficult. After grabbing his gear from the back of her wagon, he’d headed off away from camp to spend some time alone. He hadn’t felt much like socializing with the men. Spending a sleepless night under the stars near the river, the day ahead proved to be no better.

  Rachel. She’d surprised the hell out of him before they reached Fort Laramie. A slow smile spread across his face. All he’d wanted was a few minutes alone with her before reaching camp, to talk to her and reassure her that he would be there for her, and to tell her . . . what? He didn’t know what to tell her. That he loved her? He came close to saying it, after he kissed her. That she would throw herself at him, and kiss him with such innocent passion stunned him beyond belief. That hadn’t been a response out of grief. Jake’s heart pounded, and his insides suddenly heated. If Miller and Holland hadn’t shown up when they did . . .

  God! How was he going to survive the next few months? He hated the idea of sneaking around, keeping his relationship with her a secret. Everyone thought she was a widow now. Why couldn’t he openly declare his interest in her? He wasn’t sure how proper such a thing was in this time. Rachel was supposed to be in mourning, or something like that. He didn’t want to cause any trouble for her.

  Jake inhaled a deep breath. He was almost at the far end of camp where he parked her wagon yesterday. He lengthened his stride. Seeing Rachel would brighten his unpleasant day. After tossing and turning all night, thinking about her, his day had started off badly. For the better part of the morning, he’d exchanged heated words with Frank Wilson. If he didn’t have his suspicions before, Jake was more convinced than ever that the man had lied to these people, telling them he’d made several trips to Oregon and back. The man was a complete mule’s ass. He refused to listen to reason.

  According to the map the reverend had given to Jake, there was a route to the north of Fort Laramie. Not only would it avoid a double fording of the Platte River, but also the most treacherous parts through the Black Hills. Wilson was adamant that such a route didn’t exist, that it was foolish to try, and that the only way was to ford the Platte River and continue on the south side. After studying his map, Jake argued that a northern route would be safer. Others had chimed in, most men siding with Wilson that a northern route was futile. Their only argument was that it’s what they’d been told by the ferry operator and the officers at the fort.

  Jake trusted the map the reverend had given him. It hadn’t led him wrong yet. And it indicated where the safest river crossings were along the way. He hated having to lie to these people, saying he’d traveled that trail when he really had no idea what conditions were like. He only hoped that the reverend’s map continued to guide him right.

  To make matters worse, Wilson was allowing seven other wagons to join them. A group of emigrants who’d arrived a week before Jeb Miller’s company had lost their wagon master and scout to cholera, along with half of their members. The disease had decimated their train, and th
ey’d asked to join up. Not that it mattered to Jake, but the few men that were left sided with Wilson.

  After butting heads with the men, Jeb Miller had cornered him, and asked him to go up to the fort with him. Curious about what the fort looked like behind those high adobe walls, Jake had begrudgingly agreed. He wished now that he hadn’t. His day had only gotten worse after his altercation with the wagon master. After securing his mare at the horse corral, he’d told Miller he’d meet him at the post trader’s store. He wanted to look around a bit. Little did he know he was in for the shock of his life when he spotted . . .

  “Hey, Billy. Look, it’s Jake.” Tommy Parker ran up to him. “Have you seen the fort, Jake?” the boy asked eagerly, skidding to a halt in front of him. Jake tousled the kid’s dark hair.

  “Sure have.” He grinned. “I think I even found something there for you and your brothers.” Tommy’s eyes lit up, and he exchanged an eager look with Billy. Jake stepped to the side of his horse, and reached into his saddlebag.

  “Make sure and share equally.” He handed Billy a brown paper sack. “And that includes David.”

  The boys tore into the bag, their faces lighting up as if it were Christmas. They each pulled out strands of licorice, lemon drops, and other assorted candies.

  “Thanks, Jake. We saw the candy at the store.” Billy grinned, biting a huge piece off the licorice. “I bet Aunt Rachel wouldn’t let us have any.”

  “You were at the fort?” Hell, if he’d known Rachel was going to be there, he would have waited for her. “Where’s your aunt?” he asked, looking around camp.

  “She wasn’t feeling well. We had to leave mighty quick,” Tommy answered, sucking on a lemon drop. He swiped his hand across his mouth, sugar dripping from his chin. “She couldn’t even wait for Mr. and Mrs. Holland to bring us back to camp.”

  “Sick? What’s wrong with her?” Jake’s heart lurched. Rachel couldn’t be coming down with cholera, could she? Ice-cold fear raced up his spine. “Where is she?” he demanded. He handed Billy the reins to his horse.

  “Sleeping in the wagon, I s’pose,” Tommy said. “Mrs. Holland told us not to disturb her. Mrs. Holland’s taking care of David.”

  Jake dashed for Rachel’s wagon. He climbed up into the driver’s seat, and pushed aside the canvas. In the narrow space of the wagon, Rachel lay curled up under a blanket where the boys usually slept on a straw-filled mattress. Quietly, he eased himself through the opening. If anyone saw him go into the wagon, he didn’t care at the moment. The rig rocked and creaked. Rachel’s head snapped up.

  “Rachel?” Jake whispered softly, kneeling beside her. She stared up at him. Her tear-swollen eyes, the gloomy look on her face, shocked him.

  “Get out,” she demanded, and scrambled to a sitting position. Wiping a hand across her face, she clutched the blanket to her chest. Her eyes twitched.

  “What’s wrong?” Confused, Jake was relieved at the same time that she didn’t appear to be sick.

  “I want you to leave.” Her stare matched the frigid tone of her voice.

  Jake reached for her arm. His eyebrows drew together. “Why are you so upset? I’m sorry I was gone all day. I wanted to come see you sooner, but –”

  “I saw you with that woman.” Rachel yanked her arm away, and scrambled to the back of the wagon.

  Her accusing stare, mixed with the hurt he saw on her face, tore him apart. Jake shook his head. What was she talking about?

  “What wom . . . ah, hell. Rachel.” He ran his hand through his hair. Comprehension finally dawned on him. “That wasn’t what you’re thinking.” Jake cursed silently. This day had suddenly gotten even worse, if that was at all possible. How was he going to explain what she thought she saw at the fort? He could only imagine what it must have looked like to her. Dammit! Here he thought Rachel finally liked him, and didn’t think the worst of him.

  “Rachel, nothing happened with her, I swear.” He moved closer. Rachel’s hand shot up in front of her.

  “Don’t come near me, Jake. I said I want you to leave. You don’t have to lie to me.” Her lips quivered, and she sucked in a deep breath.

  “Dammit, nothing happened. She . . . reminded me of someone. Someone who was responsible—”

  “I don’t need to hear your explanation, Jake. Please leave me alone. I thought . . .” She shook her head. “Never mind what I thought,” she spat. “Obviously I was wrong about you. Men like you don’t change their ways.”

  Before he had a chance to grab her arm, Rachel climbed over the wagon’s tailgate. She rushed off in the dimming light of the evening, heading for the Holland wagon. Dumbfounded, he stared after her. The last thing Jake wanted was to cause a scene. Reluctantly, he stood, and climbed down from the rig.

  “Goddammit,” he cursed between clenched teeth. How the hell was he going to make her understand what she’d seen? In her eyes, he was guilty simply by his reputation that haunted him relentlessly. He raked his hands through his hair, and looked up. Tommy and Billy stood by the wagon, quietly staring at him. Billy still held the reins to Jake’s horse.

  “Why is Aunt Rachel mad at you?” Tommy asked. Concern was etched on his face.

  “She thinks I did something I didn’t do, Tommy.” Jake said solemnly, and took his mare’s reins from Billy’s hands.

  “Does that mean you ain’t gonna come around no more?” Billy asked, and lowered his head.

  “No.” Jake shook his head. “I’ll give her a day to cool off. Maybe then she’ll let me explain myself. “You two be nice to her. She’s hurtin’ right now, but I’ll make it all better. I promise.”

  “We know you ain’t no liar, Jake. Even if Aunt Rachel says you are.” Tommy said brightly.

  Great! How the hell was he going to convince her otherwise, if she wouldn’t talk to him? He’d do what he said to the boys. He’d give her until tomorrow to think about it. If he had to pin her to the ground, she was going to listen to him explain what she’d seen.

  Jake mounted his horse and rode off toward the riverbank where he’d spent the previous night. His past . . . no, his future . . . was haunting him. After leaving the horse corrals at the fort, Jake intended to find Jeb Miller. When he walked across the compound, he’d seen that blonde laundry woman standing in the doorway of the shop, a coy smile on her face. Jake’s stomach had nearly dropped to the ground. Sandra! He could have sworn that woman was Sandra.

  Anger had surged through him. That little bitch had set him up as a murderer. He hadn’t been able to think straight. Darting among the Indians and emigrants, Jake found himself facing the blonde. Not only did she look like Sandra, but she also acted flirty. Jake had grabbed her arm and ushered her into the building.

  What kind of games was the reverend playing with him by sending Sandra to the past to torment him? He quickly realized that this woman was not Sandra. Biting his tongue, he’d apologized for confusing her with someone else after he hurled some choice words in her face. He’d quickly left the laundry shop, several angry women shouting after him. Rachel must have seen him go into the shop with the girl. If she had stuck around, she would have seen him come back out not five minutes later. Dammit! Could this day possibly get any worse?

  ****

  Jake startled awake. Something cold and hard jabbed him in the chest. Instinctively, his hands shot up before he opened his eyes.

  “There’s that sonofabitch,” a menacing voice growled from above.

  “What the--”

  “Get up, Owens,” the man demanded, jabbing the end of his rifle deeper into Jake’s chest. “And don’t try anything. I been itchin’ to pull that trigger for weeks.”

  Jake recognized Marcus Powell’s voice. What the hell was that lowlife up to?

  “Get that gun out of my chest, and I’ll get up, Powell,” Jake said slowly. He blinked, trying to focus his mind.

  Powell stepped back, and Jake slowly rose to his feet.

  “Mind telling me what the hell is going on?” Jake grumbled. When he lo
oked up, a half dozen other men stood before him, everyone pointing their guns at him. Elijah Edwards stepped forward. Sadness mingled with anger on his face.

  “How could you do it, Jake?” he asked.

  “We shoulda known he couldn’t be trusted,” someone else said heatedly. “He deserves a bullet right now, seeing as there ain’t any trees suitable to string him up.”

  Jake’s gaze darted from one man to the next. What the hell were they talking about? What was he supposed to have done? Marcus Powell grabbed him by the arm, and shoved him forward. Jake wrenched away from the man’s grip. Powell wouldn’t be so brave if he didn’t have six other men behind him.

  “Don’t make a fuss, Jake. We gotta decide what to do with ya,” Elijah said. “I counted you as a friend. My wife wants to kill ya, but Annabelle’s got other notions.”

  Annabelle! What was that little twit up to now?

  “Would someone mind telling me what I’ve done?” he said, gritting his teeth. He looked straight at Elijah Edwards. Powell snorted.

  “You violated my daughter last night,” Edwards shouted. He seized Jake by the shirt, his face inches away.

  Dumbfounded, Jake raised his eyebrows. He what?

  “Violated your daughter? Edwards, you’re out of your goddamn mind!” Jake gripped Elijah’s wrist to pull his hand away. Marcus Powell shoved his rifle into Jake’s lower back.

  “She’s at the wagon with my wife. Luckily there’s a doctor here.” Edwards released his hold. “How could you do that to my little girl?”

  That little girl is nothing but a little tease. Jake knew Annabelle would get herself in trouble someday, the way she flirted with men. He shot a dark look at Marcus Powell. She’d had herself wrapped around that no-good creep, too.

  “I didn’t touch your daughter, Edwards,” Jake said between gritted teeth.

  “She says you pulled her into the bushes last night, and . . . and . . .” Edwards wiped a trembling hand over his face. “Harriet found her cryin’ this morning, her dress torn, and she’s been bleedin’.”