Come Home to Me (10 page)

“Must be hard to come by,” he said quietly. “Some alone time. What with a husband and three little kids.” His hand slid slowly up and down her arm, sending chills down her spine that weren’t from the crisp early morning air. “Come to think of it, you couldn’t have been a whole lot older than Annabelle when you had Billy.” His penetrating stare was unnerving. There was a question in his eyes, as if he waited for her to comment on what he’d said.

Rachel swallowed the lump in her throat. She’d never had to directly lie about her marital status before. People simply assumed that Thomas was her husband. He had even agreed it would be safer for her if they let people think this. Rachel doubted she would have been allowed to make this trip as an unwed woman.  The only thing she’d done was ask the boys not to call her Aunt Rachel in the presence of other people. To David, she was the only mother he knew, and when he started calling her Mama, no one had ever corrected him.

“I manage, Mr. Owens. Now, if you’ll excuse me, my family is probably waiting on me to fix breakfast.” She stared at his hand on her arm. Her heart beat furiously in her chest, and she was sure he could hear it. The rugged masculine scent of him that carried on the breeze sent her head spinning dizzily.

“Family obligations and a sense of duty can drain the life out of a person, can’t it?” He released her hand. A serious stare and clenched jaw replaced the smile on his face. Rachel didn’t know if his question was directed at her. It sounded as if he spoke from personal experience.

“Do you have family somewhere, Mr. Owens?” she dared to ask.

He hesitated before answering. His jaw clenched even tighter. “Yeah, I got family.”

“Don’t you feel a sense of obligation to them? If they needed you, would you turn your back on them even if it was something you didn’t want to do? Even if you wished your life had turned out differently?”

The hard look on his face puzzled her. She sensed she had struck a nerve.  He ran his hand over his face, then smiled again. It didn’t reach his eyes this time. Clearing his throat, he said, “I think we’re gonna be in for some nasty weather later today. I suggest you button up your wagon, and keep everything inside that you don’t want getting wet.” Abruptly, he stepped away from her. “I’ll see you later, Rachel.” With that, he turned and headed toward camp.

Rachel stared after him, puzzled by his abrupt change in behavior.  She quickly slipped into her shoes, and walked  upstream of the creek before making her way back to the wagons. Something about his demeanor told her there was more to this man than met the eye. She recalled his features hardening the first time she met him, when he mentioned a brother. Something had happened to Jake Owens that involved his family, and he was hurt by it. He suddenly didn’t seem so dangerous to her anymore. 

Chapter 10

Jake untied the oilskin duster from the back of his saddle, and shook out the half-inch layer of trail dust. He didn’t know why he even bothered. The wind, which steadily grew stronger, would blow all the dust off eventually. He stuffed his arms through the sleeves, and pulled the long coat up over his shoulders. He hadn’t needed it yet for anything other than to cover up on a chilly night. He glanced up at the ominous black clouds looming ever closer in the western sky. A sudden gust of wind whipped the coat tails around his ankles like a noose tightening around his neck.  This storm was moving in the direction of the emigrant camp faster than he had anticipated. And those dark clouds promised a heavy downpour. Jake was glad that Wilson had declared today as a rest day. The wagons wouldn’t be able to travel in this weather.

“You’ll be all right in a prairie storm, won’t you, Princess?” He patted his mare’s shoulder, and she nickered as if in answer to his question. She craned her neck, and sniffed at his pockets. Her tail swished, and she side-stepped nervously. The horse obviously sensed the impeding weather, too. She blew hot air through her nostrils onto Jake’s arm, and nudged him with her nose.

“Sorry, no treats here today. I know you like Rachel’s bread, but I didn’t get an invite to breakfast this morning.”

Jake pulled the cinch loose from around her belly, and peeled the saddle off of her back. He had to find a place to store his meager gear until this storm was over. He didn’t want to leave everything out in the open to get soaked. He definitely wasn’t going anywhere near the Edwards’ wagon.  He needed to avoid Annabelle Edwards like the plague. That girl was dangerous.

A smile spread across his lips. He was glad Rachel had overheard his conversation with Annabelle an hour ago. Hopefully now she believed him that he had no interest in the little . . . twit. He chuckled. Was that a hint of jealousy in Rachel’s voice when she called Annabelle a twit?

His face sobered. She was right that people talked behind her back on account of Thomas, and a twinge of guilt hit him that Harriet Edwards made rude remarks about Rachel because of him.

Jake had followed her to the creek this morning with the intention confronting her about her marital status. He’d kept it to himself the day before, mulling it over in his mind as to why she would pretend to be a married woman. He finally came to the conclusion that it was the smartest thing she could have done. He reminded himself what century he was in. An unwed woman might not have even been allowed to make this trip, and it kept men away from her as well. 
Except for you, Jake. The man with the notorious reputation as a skirt chaser.

Well, he certainly hadn’t laid eyes on anyone’s skirt but hers since coming to the nineteenth century.
You’re sweet on Mrs. Parker.
Yeah. Jake sucked in a deep breath and heaved his saddle over his shoulder. He sure was sweet on her. Hell, more like on fire for her. There was no sense in denying it.  What he should do about it was an entirely different problem.
There’s nothing you can do about it. Do your job so you can get the hell home.

“Owens, what do you make of that storm heading our way?” Jeb Miller called, walking briskly toward him.  He held firmly to his hat, and the wind whipped at his clothes as he struggled forward.

“Time to circle the wagons and bring the livestock into the center to corral them,” Jake called loudly to be heard over the wind.

“Wilson didn’t like that idea,” Jeb shouted, and ducked his head away from the wind’s onslaught.

“To hell with Wilson.” Jake frowned. “If we don’t corral the animals, you’ll be chasing them all over Nebraska after the storm is over. Just tell all the families to hitch their teams and form a circle. Find some men to herd the stock into the center. Those cattle will be a lot calmer if they can huddle together.”

Jake met Jeb Miller’s uneasy stare. He could tell the man wasn’t comfortable with going against the wagon master’s orders.

“Do it, Miller,” Jake said firmly.

Miller nodded. “You were right about the river, too, Jake.” He put a hand on Jake’s shoulder, and smiled. “I think we’d better do what you suggest.” The wind knocked his hat off of his head at that moment, and Jeb darted after it.

Jake headed for the wagons. He ducked his head toward his chest to stave off the ferocious winds. Hopefully the emigrants could manage their teams before the full force of this storm was upon them. Men shouted up ahead, and Jake frowned. Jeb Miller and Frank Wilson were in a heated argument. Jake had no doubt what it was about. He lengthened his stride, and Wilson shot a menacing glare in his direction, then stomped forcefully toward him.

“What the hell is this about bringing the livestock into the circle?” he shouted, waving his hands in the air.

“Unless you want to go on a cattle round-up for the next three days after the weather clears, you’ll do it,” Jake yelled back. “The mules you might not ever see again.” 

“We ought to be doin’ what Jake suggests, Frank.” Elijah Edwards had stepped up to them. “He seems to know livestock better than any one of us.” Frank Wilson shot him a murderous glare. Shaking his head and scowling at Jake, he trudged off into the wind.

“Get these wagons moved,” Jake called. There wasn’t a minute to spare. Raindrops already pelted his head.  He scanned the encampment, and spotted Rachel at the far end, tugging on the bridles of two of her mules. They’d been harnessed, but they wouldn’t budge to move into the traces. Her dress whipped around her legs, as did her hair, which had all come free of its usual braid. Where the hell was Thomas?

One of the mules reared, and knocked Rachel to the ground. Jake sensed what was about to happen a split second before the actual event. He dropped his saddle and ran.

“Rachel,” he called. His heart hammered up into his throat. Dammit! Had that mule struck her in the head? Relief flooded him when she moved. Slowly, she sat up, holding her hand to her head. Jake waved his arms in the air, yelling at the mules, trying to prevent them from moving forward. If they panicked and decided to bolt, Rachel would get trampled. His head shot around, and he spotted Thomas. He’d never seen the guy move so fast. Rachel’s brother ran out from behind their wagon, and slid to a stop in front of her. He dropped to his knees, and wrapped his arm around her back, supporting her to sit up.

“Dear God, Rachel, I thought I was gonna lose you, too.” His raspy voice filled with panic.

Jake grabbed the spooked mules by their bridles, and maneuvered them away from Rachel. Straining to hold on to the leather reins, he glanced over his shoulder. Thomas was helping his sister get up off the ground. She looked dazed, but otherwise appeared to be unharmed. The urge to turn those damn mules loose and go to her overwhelmed him, and he gripped the reins tighter. He wanted to pull her into his arms, just to convince himself that she was okay.

Jake forced his attention back to the mules. Stepping to the side of one, he gave it a swift kick in the gut to make the beast move over instead of leaning into him. He led the team sideways rather than straight ahead, and maneuvered them in a tight circle until they finally calmed down. He quickly backed them into their traces, and attached the chains to the harness.

“Thomas, move this wagon behind Edwards’ rig. Let’s get this circle done,” he shouted, and flipped the reins to Thomas Parker. Rain came down in heavier quantities, and he wiped the water from his face. Thomas grabbed the reins and hopped into the driver’s box, slapping the leathers against the mules’ backs. The wagon lurched forward. Rachel stood off to the side, her hair plastered in wet strands to her head and down her back.

Jake reached her in three strides. “Are you okay?” he asked, and held her shoulders.

“Yes.” She nodded, a silent look of thanks in her eyes.

“Once your wagon is in position and the mules are unhitched, get inside, and tie the canvas shut.”

Jake’s hand reached up, and he wiped some wet strands of hair from her face. His thumb brushed lightly against her cheek. She stood quiet as a statue, her wide eyes on his. Was it his imagination, or did she lean her head slightly into his hand? He clenched his jaw. He wanted to kiss the glistening raindrops from her lips.

Abruptly, he released her arms, and wheeled around. One more second, and nothing would have stopped him from pulling her into his arms. A quick glance in all directions told him the wagon circle was complete, and several men herded their oxen and other livestock into the center. The rain came down in sheets, blown sideways by the winds. Jake ran for his saddle, and tossed it under the nearest wagon. 

Frantic families tightened their canvas covers to their wagons, many having to fight the ferocious wind to anchor the heavy material down. Jake could barely see in front of him. Even his oilskin slicker wouldn’t prevent him from getting a thorough drenching. Wagons shook precariously as wind and rain pelted them, and one wagon nearly tipped over.

“Edwards,” Jake yelled, calling to the first man in his line of vision, unsure if anyone even heard him over the pounding rain. “We need to stake these wagons to the ground, or some are gonna topple over.”

Edwards nodded his head. Before Jake could get to him, Rachel’s frantic voice reached his ears. Swiping a futile hand across his face to get rid of the water, he squinted in the direction of her voice. Barely visible, she ran from wagon to wagon. What the hell was she doing?

Jake caught up to her seconds later. She was drenched. Her wet dress clung to her like a second skin, thick strands of her dark hair stuck to her face.

“Why aren’t you in your wagon?” he shouted.

“Tommy’s not there. He’s not in the wagon.”  She blinked the water from her panicky eyes. Her hand shot up and grabbed his arm. “Please. Please, help me find him, Jake.”

“When did you see him last?” Jake’s mind was a mixture of emotions. If the boy he’d come to grow fond of was out in this weather, they might not find him.

“I don’t remember. After breakfast, maybe. The winds picked up, and I told Billy to take David to the wagon. I thought Tommy was with them.”

Jake knew she was crying, but her tears mixed with the rain, making her appear as if she’d just jumped in the creek. Her lips trembled.

“Where’s Thomas?”

“He’s looking for Tommy down by the creek. Please–”

“We’ll find him, Rachel. Get back to the wagon.” He stepped away from her, intent on heading to where the cattle grazed earlier. Perhaps the boy had wandered to see Jake’s mare. Tommy often brought her some leftover bread rinds. Rachel clamped down on his arm.

“I’m going with you.”

“The hell you are. Go make sure the other kids are okay.” He turned to walk away. Her hand held tight to his arm.

“I’m going with you,” she shouted. The determined set of her chin told him this was one battle he wouldn’t win. They were wasting time. He nodded, and grabbed her hand. She had to run to keep up with his long strides, sloshing across the ground that had quickly turned to a muddy soup. The sandy soil, saturated with water, weighed them both down. Beyond the circle of the wagons, he reached his arm around her waist when she stumbled through the muck. No doubt her soaked dress was weighing her down even more.

“Where do you think he could have gone?” Rachel shouted to be heard above the pelting rain. The sky had turned even darker, making visibility worse than at night.

“I’m checking where the animals grazed first,” Jake yelled back. He slowed, and pulled her more tightly to his side. He peeled his duster off his shoulders and arms, and wrapped it around both of them.  At least it would give her some warmth. “Hold on to me and stay close. I don’t need to lose you, too.”

She grabbed on to his arm tighter than before, and together they trudged through the mud, shouting Tommy’s name. Jake searched everywhere the animals had been before the storm hit. He knew they were moving further and further away from camp, and both of them were soaked to the bone. He didn’t know how long they labored through the soupy mud, when he pulled Rachel beneath a wide willow tree with low-hanging branches.