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

by Peggy L Henderson

  ****

  Rachel’s hands trembled as she tried to part her long hair into three strands. She knelt on the mattress inside the wagon, her small mirror propped up against her crate. She shivered in the cool evening air, or was it due to anticipation of the unknown? Inhaling a deep breath, she tried to calm her frayed nerves. This was the happiest day of her life. She shouldn’t be nervous. She’d slept in Jake’s arms before. This is different. He’s your husband now. He won’t reject you this time.

  Rachel quickly weaved her hair in a loose braid, and tied the end off with a thin piece of string. She slipped out of her dress, and sat in her thin cotton chemise. Goosebumps covered her arms. What was she supposed to be doing? She reached for her nightdress that lay folded on top of her trunk. Any other night, she would have slept under the wagon. With a conspiratorial grin on her face, Mary had advised that Rachel would have more privacy with Jake on their wedding night if they shared the mattress in the wagon, and had promptly whisked the boys off with her to spend the night at her camp.

  Rachel wiped her palms across her suddenly flushed cheeks. Her husband had been gone from camp for over an hour. After their quick vows, they’d returned to their wagon, and Rachel had fixed a supper of biscuits and gravy with bacon. She wished she’d had time to fix a cobbler, but it was already late in the day, and Jake had told her she shouldn’t have to do any cooking on her wedding day.

  “You’ll have a real wedding when I take you home,” he’d said, and slipped his arms around her middle from behind. Rachel couldn’t imagine what kind of wedding would make her marriage to him more real than it already was.

  “Home?” she asked, turning in his embrace. She wrapped her arms around his neck.

  “After we get to Oregon, I’m taking you and the boys home with me to Montana.” He kissed her forehead, and then grinned. “You’ll love it there.” He paused. “Unless you’d rather stay in Oregon.”

  “I’ll be happy wherever you decide to take us, Jake. You’re my husband.”

  The devilish grin on his face had made her heart skip a beat. He raised his eyebrows. “That’s right,” he said, as if he suddenly remembered something important. “You did promise to obey me. I might keep that part in the vows when you marry me again in the fut . . . when we’re in Montana.”

  “Marry you again?” Rachel didn’t understand the purpose of another exchange of vows.

  “I need to go round up my gear, and move in officially, don’t I? I’ll be back in a bit.” He abruptly changed the subject, kissed her and waved to the boys, then strode off in the direction of the river.

  Thinking about his puzzling words now, Rachel unfolded her nightgown. She was about to slip it over her head, when the wagon rocked slightly to the side, and Jake’s head emerged from between the canvas flaps at the front of the rig.

  “I was gonna say goodnight to the boys, and . . .” Jake’s words trailed off. Rachel clutched the nightdress to her chest and sucked in a deep breath. Jake’s eyes roamed over her. Renewed heat crept up her neck, and her skin tingled all over as he caressed her with his smoldering stare.

  “Where are the boys?” Jake coughed, clearing the hitch from his throat.

  Rachel swallowed. Her heart threatened to leap from her chest. “They’re staying with the Holland’s tonight.” She sought his eyes.

  Moments passed, then Jake pushed through the canvas and landed with a soft thud in the bed of the wagon. In the dim light of the lantern, Rachel stared at her husband. He was bare from the waist up, his shirt flung over one shoulder. The soft glow of the flickering candle bathed his skin in a golden hue. With an unsteady hand, she reached out to touch his arm. Taut, hard muscles bunched beneath her fingers. Jake tossed his shirt to the side, and dropped to his knees in front of her.

  “Rachel.” The sensual way in which he whispered her name made her shudder. Jake tugged on the string that held her braid together, and ran his fingers through her rope of hair until it all spilled freely down her back. Rachel closed her eyes and shivered, anticipating his touch. His calloused hands slid slowly up her bare arms and over her shoulders. Heat exploded inside her. Her breath caught in her throat.

  He cupped her face between his hands. The nightdress she’d clutched to her chest slipped out of her grasp. Rachel braced her palms against his tight abdomen, exploring the contours of his belly and chest with her fingertips. Jake groaned, and brought his mouth down on hers. The ache in her center that she’d experienced the last time Jake kissed her with such passion, the day they arrived at Fort Laramie, returned more fully than before.

  Jake eased her to lie back onto the mattress. He reached up briefly and doused the candle in the lantern, covering them in darkness, then fumbled with his britches.

  “Come here,” he spoke huskily against her cheek a moment later, and gathered her to him. Rachel wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him closer. Her hands continued their exploration of his well-sculpted torso. She couldn’t get enough of touching the smooth skin over hard muscle. When she moved lower to slide her fingers across his hip, Jake tensed, and sucked in a deep breath of air. His upper body trembled.

  “Tell me what to do, Jake,” she breathed.

  “You’re doing just fine,” he whispered in her ear, his voice as strained as her own. He slid his mouth along her neck to her shoulders. His hands began their own exploration of her, moving from her waist up along her ribs, tugging the material of her chemise with him. Jake’s thumbs grazed her breasts, and Rachel arched her back in response to his touch. A soft whimper escaped her lips. In the next instant, he slowly untied the laces holding her chemise together. With torturous slow movements, he slipped the garment from her shoulders. Wherever his hand caressed, his lips followed. Her skin sizzled in the wake of his touch, and renewed shivers coursed down her spine.

  “Tonight I’m taking care of you, sweetheart. You’ve done enough caretaking for a while.” Jake’s mouth covered hers, moving across her lips first slowly, then with greater urgency, coaxing a response from her. Rachel couldn’t get close enough to him. Her fingers dug into his shoulders, and she greedily kissed him back.

  A feeling of weightlessness came over her, as if she floated on air, and there was nothing else in the world except for her and Jake. Her head spun dizzily, and she gave herself over to her husband’s touch as his hands explored every inch of her. He kissed her lips, her neck, her breasts, until Rachel was sure she would explode if he didn’t make the sweet pain in the center of her belly go away. When his hand slid between her thighs, she opened to him willingly.

  He moved on top of her, and a sudden sharp pain ripped through her. Her body stiffened. Jake covered her mouth with his to stifle her cry.

  “Shhhh, it’s over,” he whispered against her lips. His fingers caressed her face, and Rachel willed herself to relax. The pain was quickly replaced by a sensual feeling of fullness, and Jake slowly began to move insider her. He held her hips, and coaxed her to move in time with him. Jake’s movements increased, and a new need arose in her. She arched her hips to draw him in deeper, then wrapped her legs around his waist. Her hands clutched at his damp back.

  Suddenly her world spun out of control. Spasms and ripples of indescribable pleasure rushed through her, and she cried out Jake’s name. He kissed her again as his own body shuddered, and together they collapsed in a tangle of arms and legs against the mattress. Jake rolled off of her, and pulled her up against him, his breathing hard and fast.

  “I love you,” she cried against his chest, and wrapped her arms around his neck. “Don’t let go of me.”

  “I’ll never let you go. There’s nothing that’ll take you away from me. Ever.” Jake swept her hair from her damp face, and held her tight. He ran his hand through her thick strands, and kissed the top of her head. His heart beat strong and steady against her ear.

  Warmth radiated from every part of her, from the inside out. She couldn’t remember a time when she’d ever been so completely happy.

  �
��Tell me about your home. About Montana.” Rachel ran her fingers up and down his arm, the after effect of their lovemaking lulling her into a contented inner peace.

  Jake’s muscles tensed briefly. His hold on her tightened.

  “My folks own a large cattle ranch. For a while, we’ll have to live with them, but the house is big enough for everyone. We’ll build our own home on the spread.”

  Rachel lifted her head to stare up at him in the darkness. It was only his silhouette that she saw. He’d never spoken of his family.

  “What happened to make you so bitter against them, Jake?” Rachel’s heart sped up. She didn’t mean to pry into his personal affairs with his family. Jake sucked in a deep breath.

  “I thought I wanted a different life than what my folks insisted I should do. I was expected to help run the ranch, and it just didn’t interest me. Coming here, meeting all the folks on this wagon train, and especially you, made me realize I was searching for the wrong thing, and in the wrong place.”

  “I hope I’ll please your parents,” she said slowly. What if she wasn’t the kind of woman his folks would have wanted him to marry? It sounded as if Jake’s family was wealthy. She was nothing but a simple farm girl.

  Jake chuckled. “Are you kidding?” He bent his head and kissed her. “They are going to love you. You’re going to exceed their wildest dreams about the kind of girl they think I should marry.” His hand slipped behind her head, and he pulled her up to him. He nuzzled her neck, then whispered in her ear, “Let’s not talk about my family. Let’s talk about you and me.”

  Ripples of desire shot through her.

  “I love you, Rachel Owens.”

  Rachel wrapped her arms around his neck. Jake rolled her to her back and leaned over her. His lips had barely touched hers. A loud banging on their wagon jolted them apart.

  “Jake?” Someone yelled from outside. Rachel recognized Jeb Miller’s voice. “Jake, get out here. We got a problem.”

  Jake cursed loudly. “What the hell is going on?” He pushed himself to a sitting position. “I swear, when we get home, I’m taking you on a honeymoon far away from everyone else,” he grumbled.

  “Jake, we need to talk to you. Wilson’s dead.”

  Chapter 22

  Rachel sat up on the mattress with a blanket draped around her. Outside she heard the loud voices of a dozen men as they gathered at her camp. Jake had reluctantly dressed, and left the wagon with a whispered promise of returning shortly.

  Despite the chill in the air, her body was still heated from the after effects of Jake’s lovemaking. She smiled softly, and lay back against the mattress. The sketchy bits of information she’d gathered over the years about what happened between a man and wife in their marriage bed couldn’t even come close to what her experience had been like with Jake.

  She’d heard women complain about their duty to their husbands, but Polly had made it no secret that she loved Thomas and the things they did in the privacy of their bedroom. Rachel knew that this was one wifely duty she would never object to. Her body hummed, thinking about her husband and what his touch did to her. She hoped he wouldn’t be detained too long with the men.

  Rachel closed her eyes. What would happen now with Mr. Wilson dead? What had happened to him? Straining her ears, she listened to the boisterous talk outside, but only caught snippets of what was being said. Apparently Mr. Wilson had gotten into a scuffle with a trader, and a fight had ensued. The trader had slit Mr. Wilson’s throat, and then disappeared into the night. Jeb Miller loudly proclaimed that his company would move out in the morning as scheduled, and that Jake would not only be their guide, but he would be acting as wagon master from now on as well.

  “It makes no sense to ford the Platte.” Jake’s voice was loud and confident. “There’s an easier route to reach the Sweetwater, to the north of Fort Laramie. Anyone who objects to this route can join up with another company.”

  “We heard tell that the mountains are so steep, and the sand too heavy to drive wagons through,” someone yelled.

  “I ain’t gonna argue with you about this,” Jake called out. “We’re leaving at seven o’clock sharp. Now if you all will excuse me, I have a wife in need of my attention.”

  Many of the men laughed or chuckled, and some made obscene comments. Rachel's cheeks burned so hot, she thought her face would catch fire. She pulled a blanket over her head, as if that would hide her from the embarrassment of facing these people in the morning.

  A few minutes later the wagon tilted and squeaked.

  “You still awake?” Jake called softly. The blanket lifted, and he lay down next to her, and gathered her in his arms.

  “Why did you have to say that to those men?” Rachel whispered, even as her skin tingled to life from his touch.

  “You think they don’t know what we’re doing?” He chuckled against her ear.

  “What will happen now with Mr. Wilson dead?” she asked, rather than contemplate his question. She sucked in a deep breath when Jake nuzzled her neck.

  “We go on as before,” he said absently, his lips trailing a path along her throat to her mouth. A few seconds later, Rachel couldn’t concentrate on anything else but her husband’s touch.

  The following morning, Jake led the company of fifteen wagons along the north side of the Platte River into the Black Hills. Two families plus Marcus Powell had opted to join another company, but they had gained four others who were willing to follow Jake, despite all the arguing the night before.

  Rachel drove the team of mules, her eyes on the man astride the buckskin mustang, the man she proudly called her husband. The terrain over the next several days changed dramatically, from the flat prairie she’d become accustomed to over the last five weeks to mountains and hills covered in pine trees. Wildflowers and plants of all descriptions adorned the valleys, adding to the beauty of the area. The concerns of those who objected to this route were quickly proven to be unfounded, just like Jake had said. On the second day, a party of fifteen Indians blocked their way, demanding food and clothing in exchange for passage. Jake had remained adamant that nothing was to be given to these men, and eventually, the Indians allowed them to pass.

  “What if there had been trouble with those Indians, Jake?” Rachel asked that evening, while lying in her husband’s arms under the wagon.

  “Something I’ve learned from the Native American’s I deal with at home is that they love to barter and haggle, but it’s all in good fun. They looked pretty harmless, but if we had given them what they wanted, they probably would have come back the next day. It’s like feeding a stray cat. Once you give it food, it won’t leave.

  Rachel pondered Jake’s peculiar words. Sometimes he said the strangest things. Calling the Indians Native American sounded very odd, indeed. She didn’t get the chance to ask him about it. He leaned over her in the next instant, his lips and hands igniting a fire inside her that made her forget everything else.

  The final day of travel along the North Platte proved to be the toughest. The wagons traversed an area of immense sandstone bluffs, and had to climb numerous hills where the trail was deep with sand. Several times, a wagon got stuck, and it required the effort of several men and an added team of mules to aid the unfortunate rig. Jake often complained that the wagons were simply too heavy. Those who had packed only the barest necessities fared much better.

  At the Upper Crossing of the Platte, Jake called a two-day rest. He advised everyone to catch up on chores and wagon repairs, and to allow the animals to graze as much as they wanted, even suggesting that grass be cut to bring along. The route up ahead would become more difficult from here on, he said, where water and suitable food would become scarce. Jake advised everyone to unload as much from their wagons as they could spare, save for their supplies.

  “Can we get rid of these heavy trunks?” Jake asked Rachel after setting up camp.

  She could tell he hated asking her to give up her possessions when he pointed at her two wooden chests fill
ed with clothing and linens.

  “I don’t mind giving them up, if you think it would help,” she answered. “I can pile the clothing in a corner of the wagon.

  A few wagons away from their camp, Rachel heard the shrill voices of Annabelle and Harriet Edwards.

  “I will do no such thing, Elijah Edwards! You can’t expect Annabelle and myself to part with my mother’s heirloom furniture. It goes with us, or we stay here!”

  “Maybe poor Elijah should take her up on her offer,” Jake whispered, grinning broadly.

  “Jake!” Rachel slapped his arm in mock outrage. She shot him a disapproving look. A second later they both burst out laughing. Jake’s arms snaked around her, and he pulled her to him. He smoothed some loose strands of her hair behind her ear, his laughter slowly fading. Rachel sucked in a deep breath.

  “I’m a lucky guy,” he whispered huskily, and kissed her until her legs melted like butter, and he had to hold her up.

  For days, they traveled through nothing but miles and miles of sagebrush desert. They had once again joined the main trail, and the road before them was littered with discarded personal items as people who had traveled the road before them attempted to lighten their wagons. Rachel was amazed at the things she saw. Cooking stoves too numerous to count, furniture, blacksmiths’ anvils, harnesses, barrels, kegs, clothing, and even beans and bacon were found along the road. Many dead oxen, no doubt too worn out to travel further, fouled the air with the stench of death and decay.

  Everyone rejoiced when an oddly shaped monolith came into view in the distance. They had reached Independence Rock, and the Sweetwater River. Jake called a halt for the noon rest along the river, where the grass grew in abundance. After unhitching the team so they could graze, Jake grabbed Rachel’s hand, and together with the boys, climbed to the top of the giant, turtle-shaped curiosity.