“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 filled 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.
“What a view,” Jake exclaimed, keeping a firm hand on David, who sat perched on Jake’s shoulders. Rachel had to agree. She could see for miles in all directions, including a large herd of buffalo in the distance, but what beckoned her most were the clear waters of the Sweetwater River. How long had it been since she washed herself in water not laden with silt and sand?
Jake pulled David from his shoulders, and told Billy to keep a tight hold on the toddler. He pulled his knife from his belt.
“What are you doing?” Rachel asked.
Jake knelt to his feet, and looked up at her. “Carving our names in the rock. Looks like a lot of other people have done the same.” He pointed at the rock. Sure enough, the names of many people had been carved into the stone. Rachel watched as Jake scraped first his name into the rock, then added hers below, and outlined it with a heart.
“Can you carve our names, too?” Tommy asked, watching Jake’s handiwork.
“I’ve seen boys carve their sweetheart’s name in a tree before,” she said out loud.
After carving all the boys’ names next to the heart, Jake stood to his feet. “Well, since there are no trees here, and since you’re my sweetheart, I reckon this is appropriate.”
Rachel’s insides flooded with love for this man. It was hard to believe that a little over a month ago she had considered him rude and abrasive.
After their rest, the company of wagons forded the Sweetwater River, and followed along its banks on the south side until they came to a grassy clearing. The river continued to flow through a narrow canyon between two high bluffs a short distance away. Devil’s Gate, Jake had called it.
While setting a pot of beans over the campfire to cook, Rachel gathered an armful of dust-covered clothes, and headed for the river. Mary Holland joined her, just as eager to do some washing.
“Isn’t it beautiful here?” Mary asked, a wide smile on her face. They sat at the banks of the river, enjoying the cool early evening breeze. Rachel dipped a pair of Tommy’s britches into the water.
Several other women soon joined them. Annabelle Edwards glared at Rachel from several yards away. The girl hadn’t spoken directly to her since leaving Fort Laramie, and Rachel had no desire to seek her out. Her mother had offered no apologies to Jake for the accusations they’d made against him. In contrast, Elijah Edwards had approached Jake several times, seeking his forgiveness for the way his wife and daughter had acted. The entire incident hadn’t stopped Harriet from trying to be the center of attention among most of the other women, carrying on in her usual style. Rachel had noticed a definite change in most women’s attitudes towards her, however, and several ladies appeared uncomfortable in Harriet’s presence. No one spoke of Annabelle’s behavior in public, and other than the hateful looks she cast at Rachel, she kept to herself or close to her mother most of the time.
Rachel couldn’t remember a happier time, or a more picturesque area than the Sweetwater Valley they traveled through for the next several days. Along the way they encountered Indians and white traders, and Rachel gladly traded a sack of dried peaches for a pair of moccasins. Her boots were worn beyond wear. Somehow, Jake had managed to barter for new footwear for the boys as well. He had told her to enjoy the scenery now. Once they reached South Pass, an area that would take them over the Continental Divide, the landscape would be harsh and dry once again.
“South Pass should be easy to cross,” he told her. “Then you’ll be on the other side of the continent.”
“I’ve never heard of mountains as being easy to cross,” Rachel scoffed. “I know you’re just trying to set my mind at ease.”
They sat in front of their campfire, and Jake pulled out his map that he carried with him at all times. Rachel had never looked at it closely. She leaned over for a better view.
“I’ve never seen such an elaborate map.” The pictures looked almost real. Alive. She’d seen photographs in Ohio once, but nothing as clear as this. It looked as if a photograph had been taken from high up in the air, looking down at the entire expanse from Missouri to Oregon Territory. Miniscule typeset covered the map.
Jake glanced up at her. “It’s called a satellite image. I’ll explain it to you someday.” He held her gaze, almost as if he waited for her to question him further, and he seemed uneasy. Rachel pushed the silly thought from her mind. Why would Jake feel uneasy about a map? There were many things she’d never heard of before. She should be grateful that Jake had this map to guide him.
“I’ll go check on the boys,” she said softly, and stood from her seat on the overturned bucket. Jake folded the map, and reached for her before she had a chance to walk away, and pulled her onto his lap. A soft squeal escaped her lips, and Jake quickly covered her mouth with his. When she wrapped her arms around his neck and leaned into him, he drew back.
“What will the rest of the camp think if they hear you making those noises?” he asked, his breath hot against her neck.
“They’ll think I have a husband who loves me well,” Rachel answered huskily. “As I recall you telling me, everyone already knows.” She pressed her lips to his, and a ripple of desire swept through her. A quiet growl escaped Jake’s throat, and his hands traveled the length of her torso. Then he pulled his head back and lifted his hands from her waist.
“Better check on the kids, Rachel, because in another ten seconds I’m dragging you under that wagon.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
Jake dismounted his mare, and stood before the great fork in the road. To the left, the trail led south to Fort Bridger. To the right, he could shave nearly sixty miles from their trip. It also meant very little food or water for the animals for almost three days. Standing in the crossroads, he stared at the vast expanse of dusty prairie, warily eyeing the mountains in the distance.
For days, he and a few of the other men had been forced to drive the livestock several miles from camp each night to find suitable grazing for the hu
ngry and weakened animals. More than a few showed the strain of the journey. Jake’s mare was still in good flesh, as were Rachel’s team of mules. He attributed it to the fact that Rachel’s wagon was probably lighter than most others.
Elijah Edwards had lost one of his mules, and had finally put his foot down with his wife and daughter. At their camp one night, he’d emptied out their wagon to the point that only the barest necessities remained. Annabelle had pitched a fit like a two-year-old having a tantrum in a toy store. Jake thought the girl might snap completely.
Thankfully he hadn’t had any more problems with Annabelle. Harriet Edwards kept her distance, although she glared at him sometimes with disdain in her eyes. Jake usually countered it with a wide smile, making the woman scuffle off in a huff. To this day, Jake had his suspicions that Marcus Powell and Annabelle had gotten a little too cozy, and maybe things had gotten out of hand. That coward had decided to join up with another wagon train, now that his buddy Frank Wilson wasn’t around anymore to cover his back.
“What do you think?” Jeb Miller came up beside Jake, who stood staring at the two sets of wagon ruts that disappeared in a V-shape into the distance.
“We’ve made good time so far. I don’t see what the advantage will be to risk our lives and that of the animals. I say we go the south way. I’m not putting Rachel or the kids at risk to save a few days.”
Jeb’s lips rose in a smile. “You’re a changed man, Jake. I bet a month ago you would have thought differently.” He slapped Jake’s back. “Nothing like a good woman to put you on the straight and narrow, eh?”
“Yeah.”
Jake glanced over his shoulder towards camp. Just watching Rachel perform everyday tasks like baking batches of bread each evening, or playing with the boys before bedtime, brought an inner peace to him unlike anything he’d ever felt. She would quietly sit with him after supper, and he enjoyed just holding her in his arms most nights. She was still too shy and modest to come right out and tell him she wanted him to make love to her, but she didn’t need to say the words. Her innocent actions, the way she clung to him and kissed him, made him wonder what he ever saw in the modern women he used to be with. That chapter in his life was over.
Jake marveled at her resilience during the times when water was scarce, and the heat beat down on them relentlessly. She always gave most of her share to the children and even the livestock. She drove the wagon with a fierce determination, whether through a sandstorm or torrential rains. And he loved her more every day.
Negotiating the Snake River Valley had to be the most frustrating part of the journey to date. They’d been on the trail for nearly three months, and tempers were running short. Two men had gotten into an argument over a camping spot, which had resulted in one man accidentally shooting himself in the foot.
The Snake River Plains had taken a heavy toll on the animals, some looking like walking skeletons. Jake relied heavily on his map, looking for the best places to ford the treacherous river. He finally chose a spot where the river was about six hundred yards wide, and broken up by several islands. The water appeared to be no deeper than four or five feet. Or so he hoped.
“We’ll chain the wagons together in groups of five or six, and use every available animal to pull,” he told Jeb Miller. It would be an all-day undertaking to cross this river, but there was no way around it. Once across, it would be a long uphill climb. Jake wondered silently how many animals they would lose. He hated seeing the mules and oxen in such bad shape. There was nothing he could have done. He knew that, but it didn’t make looking at the emaciated critters any easier. He only hoped that they would find better foraging once they were out of the floodplain, or they might all be walking the rest of the way to Oregon.
By midafternoon, ten wagons had made it safely across the river. The final group had just entered the water when one of the lead mules slid and lost its footing. Thrashing wildly in the water, several of the other mules balked in their harnesses. Jake guided his horse into the water as people on both sides of the river shouted loudly. The voice his ears honed in on was Rachel’s. Thank God she’d already crossed safely.
Jake reached the panicked mule, and leaned over his saddle. He grabbed for the animal’s bridle. Damn! He should have thrown his lasso over the mule’s head instead, but hearing Rachel call his name had temporarily distracted him. The fearful animal lunged forward as it finally regained a foothold on the slippery rocks in the river, and yanked Jake from the saddle. He hit the icy water and went under, right between the thrashing hooves of the mule. Jake surfaced, gulping for air. Before he could get out of the way, the mule kicked out and caught him in the ribs. Blinding pain shot through him, and he fought to keep his head above water. Over the rushing sound of the river, he could hear people yelling at him, and he caught a glimpse of Rachel running along the shore. Gritting his teeth against the pain, he let the river’s current sweep him away from the frightened animal. The water wasn’t deep in most places, and he was able to drag himself through the river, half walking and half swimming. Reaching the rocky shore, he collapsed to the ground.
“Jake,” Rachel called to him, her voice sounding frantic and far away. “You can’t leave me, Jake. Please. I love you.” She knelt beside him, panic in her voice. Jake opened his eyes and clutched at his side. He forced a grin.
“It’s gonna take more than a mule and water to keep me away from you,” he whispered, despite the pain it caused him to speak. Her hands cradled his head in her lap, and she bent over him and kissed him.
“I’m all right,” he groaned, and tried to sit up. “I just got the wind knocked out of me.”
Jeb Miller and Ben Holland appeared and helped him to his feet. Keeping him between them, they slung his arms across their shoulders, and walked him to his wagon.
“Might want to have Rachel bind those ribs,” Jeb said, poking at his sides. “Don’t feel like anything’s broke, but it’s gonna hurt like hell for a few days.”
“Yeah,” Jake grumbled, sitting on the wagon’s tailgate. His eyes met Rachel’s. He held out his hand to her, which she grabbed eagerly.
“You could have died,” she whispered, her eyes shimmering with the tears she tried to hold back.
“But I didn’t,” he said, his gaze locked on hers. “I’m okay, sweetheart.” He rubbed her palm with his thumb. Smiling brightly, he added, “Now help me out of these clothes so I don’t catch cold.”
Jake’s bruise healed slowly over the next few weeks. He tried to hide the pain he was in from Rachel, but he knew that she was aware of his discomfort. She doted on him worse than a mother hen, and he enjoyed every minute of it. But he couldn’t afford to slow down, or allow the wagon train to slow down. Summer would be giving way to winter soon, and it was that knowledge that kept them going over the rigorous Blue Mountains. They lost several more cows and mules over the weeks, and tempers flared worse than before among the people.
The weeks dragged on. Jake led them through the irregular rocky terrain of the Blue Mountains covered in spruce and pine trees, sometimes so thick, they had to cut trees to get wagons through. Several in their company suffered from what Jeb Miller called mountain fever, and they buried several of their members along the way.
Jake once again had a choice to make when they reached the Cascade Range: either take the Columbia River heading south, or the more formidable Barlow Road over the range. Put to a vote, the company chose to head toward a trading post along the Columbia for some much-needed supplies.
“There’s already snow in them mountains,” one trader told Jake. “I wouldn’t advise taking your families over. I got some dependable Injuns that’ll float you down the river. They know the course of the water and how to navigate it. A few others’ll take your stock over the mountains to Oregon City.”
Jake studied the man, wondering if he could be trusted. His map did indicate that the river was the preferable choice than the long way around Mount Hood.
“We’re gonna travel by boat?” To
mmy asked excitedly.
“Looks like it,” Jake told the eager boy.
For the next three days, the men busied themselves building rafts, and removing the wheels of the wagons, which would be floated down the river. This would be the last hurdle. Within days, they would be in Oregon City. Jake’s heart sped up. The river should be relatively easy compared to all the trials they endured traveling the trail. He quickly discovered this wasn’t the case.
The wind turned out to be their biggest challenge. In places, the river was almost a lake, and the strong gusts through the Columbia Gorge made forward movement nearly impossible. There was no natural current to aid in floating them down river. Everyone helped out with long poles, pushing the crafts forward. Sometimes Jake wondered if the overland mountainous trail wouldn’t have been the better choice. Rachel rubbed at his sore and aching shoulders each evening, despite being worn out herself.
“You sure know how to spoil a man,” he told her, pulling her up against him with her back turned to him. “Only fair I return the favor.” Her muscles relaxed under the steady kneading of his hands. Jake bent forward and kissed her neck. “A few more days, and it’ll be over,” he whispered in her ear.
Four days later, after more than five months of travel, the weary company saw the first signs of civilization as Oregon City came into view along the banks of the Multnomah River. Loud cheers arose from the people. After months of windswept plains, treacherous river crossings, and seemingly impossible mountain ascends and descends, they’d reached the end of the trail. Jake felt the excitement along with everyone else. These people were about to embark on a new life, having survived hardships unimaginable in modern times. Whether he would return to the twenty-first century or stay in this time remained to be seen.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Jeb Miller shook Jake’s hand heartily when they disembarked from the raft. Town folks flocked to the dock to greet the new arrivals, some cheering and waving in welcome.
Come Home to Me (Second Chances Time Travel Romance Book 1) Page 22