“Mr. Wilson, please,” she tried again. “I won’t slow you down. What am I supposed to do if you won’t let me continue on to Oregon?”
Wilson stared at her. He rolled a cigarette, and struck a match against his boot. Taking a long drag and slowly exhaling the smoke, he said, “There are folks here turning back all the time. You can go back to where you came from with one of those outfits.”
“I can’t return home. There’s nothing for me there. I have to go on to Oregon.” Rachel couldn’t believe the man. No wonder Jake constantly argued with him.
Wilson merely shrugged. “Ain’t my problem.” He blew more smoke out of his mouth and without another word, walked away.
Rachel stomped her foot. “Damn him,” she uttered under her breath. What was she going to do now? Glancing around camp, she suddenly felt utterly alone and lost. Women finished up their laundry chores while men repacked wagons or made adjustments on their rigs. At many camps, pieces of furniture or other items an eager family had thought to bring along were piled next to their wagon. People were preparing for the hard journey ahead through the Rocky Mountains, and sadly had to part with their precious heirlooms. Only the most basic necessities were repacked.
Rachel sighed. She’d left everything back in Ohio. Her mother’s furniture had gone to the buyer of the farm. Thomas didn’t want to bring anything that would remind him of Polly. The only item she hadn’t been able to part with was her mother’s wedding band, and that was stored safely in a satchel in her trunk.
Slowly, Rachel walked past families preparing to continue the journey west. An Indian woman shoved a pair of moccasins under her nose, eager for a trade. Rachel shook her head and skirted around the woman. Her mind raced, sorting through possibilities on how to continue her own journey with the train. She knew Mary and Ben Holland would take her, but how could she impose on them? They were newlyweds, and needed their space. Perhaps if she sold her wagon and team of mules, she could buy a horse and pack only a few items with her. The boys could take turns riding, and sometimes ride with the Hollands. They might even allow her some room in the wagon for her dry goods. She shook her head, dismissing the idea. Alone, it might be possible, but not with three children.
She thought about Jake’s promises. He had told her repeatedly he would get her to Oregon. She refused to go and ask him for help. He’d already proven he had no intention of changing his ways. She couldn’t bear the idea of the long months ahead, knowing he would leave her the moment they set foot on Oregon soil. Rachel gritted her teeth. Damn him! How could she still think to be in love with him after he’d gone and met up with that blonde woman? She should have listened to her intuition all along, and not allowed a man like him to work his way into her heart.
“Mrs. Parker.”
Rachel spun around at the sound of her name. A man she didn’t recall seeing before strode toward her on long legs. A hesitant smile spread across his face as he approached, and he pulled his hat from his head, revealing sandy-colored locks to match the neatly trimmed mustache under his nose. His tan cotton britches were held up over his hips by a pair of leather suspenders. A clean blue shirt was tucked into the waistband. His pant legs were stuffed inside a pair of well-worn leather boots. Rachel could easily envision him behind a team of oxen, plowing a wheat field.
“Mrs. Rachel Parker?” he asked expectantly, and stopped a few feet in front of her. His hat was clasped firmly in both hands in front of him.
“Yes,” Rachel answered hesitantly. She had to tilt her head back to look up into his face. Grey eyes, she noted. Not smoldering brown eyes that reached straight into her soul. Rachel mentally shook her head.
The man cleared his throat. “Yes, ma’am,” he said slowly, shifting weight from one foot to the next. “My name is Caleb Bender, ma’am.”
Rachel raised her eyebrows, waiting for the man to continue. He seemed nervous about something. Why would he approach her? When he didn’t speak, she held out her hand. “It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Bender. Is there something I can do for you?”
“Yes, ma’am,” he said again. He quickly wiped his right hand on the side of his britches, and wrapped it around hers for a light shake. His palm was rough and calloused, the hand of a hard-working man.
“Beggin’ your pardon, ma’am, but I couldn’t help but overhear you talking with Mr. Wilson back there.” He released her hand and jutted his chin in the direction she’d come from. He rubbed his cheek, then inhaled a deep breath. Glancing back at her, he held her gaze. Rachel waited. She didn’t have time to extract every word from this man’s mouth, and almost told him to have a good day so she could be on her way. She still had to figure out what to do.
“I lost my wife to the cholera a few weeks back, ma’am, and hearin’ that wagon master say you couldn’t go on to Oregon on your own, I thought that maybe . . .” He cleared his throat again. “Seein’ as you lost your husband, perhaps you’d be willing to wed up with me. I got two girls that need a mother, and . . . well, a man needs a wife.”
Rachel gaped at him. It was the last thing she expected. Too stunned for words, she merely stood there. Caleb Bender reached for her hand, and stepped closer.
“I work hard, ma’am, and I aim to have a productive farm in Oregon. I’d be a good husband to you.”
Rachel shook her head, her eyebrows drawn together. Her mind raced wildly. It would be the perfect solution to her predicament. She stared at the man before her. He looked sincere, and she had no doubt that he would be a good provider. Here, in this wild and untamed land, a person had to do what was necessary to survive. She was learning that real fast.
“Mr. Bender, I have three small children of my own,” she said hesitantly.
“I’d raise them as mine,” he said quickly. Eagerly. He squeezed her hand. No tingles or electrifying sensations raced up Rachel’s arm like the ones she experienced whenever Jake touched her. There would be no passion between her and this man, but he would provide for her, and offer her a secure future.
“There’s a minister here, performing weddings today before folks head out in the morning. We can be hitched and packed before supper. I won’t make any demands on you, not until we get to know one another better.” The words suddenly spilled from his mouth like a gushing waterfall. He brought her hand up to his lips, and kissed it gently.
“What the hell’s going on here?” a loud voice boomed behind her. Rachel yanked her hand from Caleb’s, and jumped back. Jake rushed toward them like an angry bull ready to charge. Caleb stepped forward.
“This is a private conversation between me and the lady, Mr.—”
“The name’s Jake, and this don’t look like a conversation. Is he bothering you, Rachel?” Jake glared at Caleb Bender, who stood at least half a head taller, then turned his seething eyes on her.
“Not that it's any concern of yours, Jake,” Rachel said, glaring at him, “but no, Mr. Bender was not bothering me.”
“Then what’s he doing?” Jake stepped up to her, and wrapped his hand around her upper arm. The jolt to her senses that Caleb failed to produce when he touched her was immediate with Jake’s hand. Rachel sucked in a deep breath. Something squeezed her heart in a painful grip. Could she trade the love she felt for him for a secure future with a man who didn’t spark her desires?
“I’ve heard of you,” Caleb Bender said, interrupting Rachel’s thoughts. “You’re Mr. Wilson’s scout. I was asking Mrs. Parker to marry me, if you must know.”
Jake glared at the man, and his grip on Rachel’s arm tightened. Minutes must have passed while the two men stared at each other. Rachel held her breath, her heart pounding in her ears. She didn’t know what to say or do.
“She’s not marrying you,” Jake finally said. He faced her fully, his dark eyes burrowing into her. “She’s not marrying you,” he repeated, his back turned to Caleb while he stared directly at Rachel, “because she’s marrying me.” His grip on her loosened, and his hand slid up her arm, past her shoulder and up her neck.
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“Jake?” Completely taken by surprise, Rachel sucked in a deep breath. Her heart nearly jumped from her throat.
“Will you marry me, Rachel, or would you rather marry him?” He gestured with his chin to the side.
Rachel swallowed repeatedly. All sound around her ceased as her heart drummed in her ears. Jake wanted to marry her? She could do nothing but merely stare into his expectant eyes. An almost fearful look flashed in his gaze. The muscles in his jaw softened, and a slow smile spread across his face. His hand cupped her cheek, his thumb igniting her skin with his soft caress.
“Rachel, will you marry me?” he asked again, almost in a whisper.
Her vision blurred. Slowly, she nodded her head. There was only one answer in her heart and mind. “Yes. Yes, I’ll marry you.”
Jake expelled the breath he’d obviously been holding in a loud whoosh. “There’s only one girl in my life. I love you, Rachel,” he murmured. He cupped her face between both hands, then brought his mouth down on hers in a kiss that made her legs turn to rubber.
Rachel wrapped her arms around his middle and leaned into him. She couldn’t imagine being held in anyone’s arms but his. Caleb and everyone else around her were forgotten. Jake had just told her that he loved her. Almost since the day they met, he’d looked out for her. Why had she jumped to conclusions about what she’d seen at the fort? And she hadn’t given him a chance to explain. Rachel tightened her hold around him. She knew without a doubt that she was exactly where she was destined to be.
Chapter Twenty-One
The minister stood in the center of a semi-circle that had been created using flat boards and assorted trunks and crates at the outskirt of the main camp of emigrant wagons. People sat or stood, watching the young couple holding hands as they stood in front of the bored-looking minister. Jake paced between a group of wagons. He scanned the area, picking out the other five couples who had decided to take advantage of the minister’s offer to conduct a marriage ceremony before many of the emigrants headed out from Fort Laramie in the morning. His jaw muscles worked furiously in tune with his heart drumming in his chest. This day had been anything but dull. First, he’d almost been forced to get hitched to a young girl that had tried to dupe him into marriage, and now he was about to marry the woman of his dreams.
After leaving Mary Holland’s camp, Jake had walked the riverbank, mulling over the things Rachel’s friend had said to him. He was anxious to find Rachel, and force her, if necessary, to listen to his explanation about that laundress. He had told her repeatedly he would get her to Oregon. He couldn’t understand why she felt the need to seek out Wilson on her own, even if she was mad.
The answer finally dawned on him. Not once had he told Rachel that he loved her, or that he was committed to her. He may have said he’d be there for her until they reached Oregon, but he hadn’t told her any of his plans once they reached the end of the trail. That she was deeply hurt when she thought he’d sought out a hooker confirmed that she needed to know that he loved her. You’re a clueless jackass.
Jake clenched and unclenched his fists. He was definitely in unfamiliar territory. Leading a wagon train through the nineteenth century Nebraska prairie seemed like a cakewalk in comparison to trying to figure out a woman’s needs. Up until he met Rachel, he was too absorbed in his own desires to pay much attention to what a woman wanted out of a relationship. He’d messed up, thinking he could wait to tell her of his feelings, and his plans for the future he hoped to have with her. He’d fully intended to ask her to be his wife as soon as he talked to Reverend Johnson once they reached Oregon. Heck, the reverend should be the one to marry them, seeing as he was responsible for getting them together in the first place.
He raked his hands through his hair, and shook his head. A slow smile spread across his face. He was getting married today! Admittedly, the idea scared the hell out of him. It still hadn’t fully sunk into his brain, but no one could take Rachel away from him now. What would you have done had she turned you down? Yeah, but she didn’t.
An uneasy thought entered his mind. How would she react to the news that he was from the future? Now that she was going to be his wife, he had to tell her. She’d probably think he was loco. On the other hand, he could take that secret to his grave if he stayed in the past. Jake paced between the wagons in tune with the thoughts swinging wildly through his mind. This was one topic of conversation he would save until he talked to the reverend.
While the idea of a life as a farmer in Oregon wasn’t as appealing as returning to the twenty-first century, it didn’t matter where he lived, as long as Rachel was at his side. He could offer her and the boys so much more in his time. Reverend Johnson was certainly aware of that.
A warm feeling spread through him, as if his body was submerged in a hot bath, and the tension flowed from him. He was suddenly eager to get the formalities underway. What was keeping Rachel? Had she changed her mind? Mary Holland had whisked her away when they showed up at camp after Jake’s hasty proposal. Mary had smiled brightly at hearing the news, and nodded her head in approval. Jake craned his neck and scanned the smiling faces of the onlookers.
A heavy hand landed on his shoulder, and Jake turned his head. Jeb Miller put a stop to Jake’s pacing.
“Never figured you for the marryin’ kind, Jake, but I’m glad you’re doin’ right by Mrs. Parker. It’ll keep the old hens from clucking about her all the time, especially after her confession this morning. She’s a decent woman.” Miller slapped him on the back. He shot Jake a meaningful look.
“Yeah,” Jake grumbled.
“You wasn’t with her last night, were ya?” Miller asked. “That was a right good thing she done for you, and glad you’re doin’ the right thing by marrying her. I heard that Wilson refused to let her go on unless she had a husband or family to take her. This solves both her troubles. Edwards needs to put a leash on that gal of his, or better yet, a chastity belt. “ He chuckled, then craned his neck. “Where’s your bride? Looks like that preacher is hitchin’ up the last happy couple before it’s your turn.”
Good question. What was keeping her?
“Jake, Jake.” Tommy scurried between two wagons and skidded to a halt in front of him. His face beamed in a wide smile. Billy was right on his heels. Both boys looked like they’d been scrubbed clean from head to toe. Their hair was combed back against their heads, and they wore clean britches and shirts.
Jake ran a self-conscious hand through his hair. His twenty-first century buzz cut had to look out of place to these people, something he’d never considered before. In the five weeks he’d been here, it had grown considerably. He might be able to comb it to the side at this point, but he never bothered with a comb. It would probably reach his shoulders by the time they got to Oregon. He doubted he could find a pair of electric clippers here on the prairie to buzz it short again.
“Where’s—” Jake looked up. He couldn’t complete his question. Mary Holland beamed brightly, and nudged Rachel in front of her.
Jake swallowed the lump in his throat. He stared at the girl in front of him. A slow tingling feeling started at his neck and traveled down his extremities, through his torso and into his legs. The sensation grew stronger by the second. He’d never seen Rachel with her hair unbraided or unpinned to the back of her head in some way. Only once had part of her hair hung free that he could recall; the first day he saw her, when David pulled the pins from her hair in the barn in Kannesville. Her dark hair tumbled down along both sides of her shoulders in cascading waves, swept back from her face and held in place by two ivory-colored combs. She wore her modest blue dress that matched the color of her eyes. She didn’t need designer gowns or expensive make up. She’d never looked more beautiful.
Wordlessly, Jake reached for her hand, his eyes never leaving hers. That warm, content feeling rushed through his veins again. He was the luckiest guy in the world. Rachel was unlike any other woman he’d known, or even been attracted to. It was still a mystery to him. He�
��d never seen her arms bare, or the skin below her neckline. The clothes she wore covered almost every inch of her, yet she was more desirable than any woman in tight pants, spaghetti straps, or high heels.
“Is there one more couple I’m supposed to marry up today?” the minister called loudly.
“That’s you, son.” Jeb Miller shoved Jake’s shoulder from behind. “Quit ogling your bride and get it over with.”
“Ready?” he managed to ask. Rachel nodded softly. Her wide eyes betrayed how nervous she was.
Jake offered a reassuring smile, and stepped from between the wagons toward the minister, his hand firmly wrapped around Rachel’s. She followed along beside him, the tension in her arm matching his own. They stopped a few feet in front of the minister.
“Your names?” the minister asked, glancing from Jake to Rachel.
“Jake Owens.”
“Rachel Parker.”
“Do you, Rachel Parker, take this man to be your husband? Will you love, honor and obey him, in sickness and in health, ‘til death do you part?”
Rachel gazed up at Jake. The love that shone in her eyes was unmistakable. The lump in his throat grew.
“I do,” Rachel said softly.
“Jake Owens, do you take this woman, Rachel Parker, as your wife, and so promise to honor her in sickness and in health, ‘til death do you part?”
“Now and in the future,” Jake said slowly.
“Just answer yes,” the minister huffed.
“Yeah, I do. I will,” Jake stammered. His hand gripped Rachel’s.
“You’re now man and wife. I believe that was the last couple.” The minster closed his book, and walked away. Jake didn’t see or hear anything or anyone around him except the woman standing before him. She held his stare, uncertainty in her eyes.
Come Home to Me (Second Chances Time Travel Romance Book 1) Page 20
