Read Online Come Home to Me by Peggy L Henderson - Free Book Online Page B

wife smiled, her eyes full of thanks. Holland had already thanked him profusely after Jake pulled him from the river. Women ladled out food from Dutch ovens sitting in the coals, kids sat wide-eyed by the fire, and men talked in hushed tones. Several people waved to him and smiled, while others cast him suspicious looks. He passed the Edwards wagon. Mr. Edwards was talking to Jeb Miller. They held up their coffee mugs in greeting, and Jake nodded. Mrs. Edwards stood at the tailgate of her wagon, fiddling with a metal pot. Next to her stood a girl who could only be her daughter. She had he same brown hair tied up in a bun as Mrs. Edwards. The girl looked over at Jake, and smiled coyly, then lowered her chin and batted her lashes at him.
    Jake’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. In the brief moment he walked past, he quickly assessed the girl. She was the same height as her mother, but not quite as round. She did have curves in all the right places, but she couldn’t be more than fourteen or fifteen years old. To be polite, he returned her smile and tipped his fingers against his temple. Her smile widened.
    Jake groaned. Hopefully he hadn’t done the wrong thing and led this girl to believe he was interested. He lengthened his stride and hurried along through the encampment.  Up ahead, Rachel’s boys, Billy and Tommy, ran around, their arms outstretched and fingers pointing pretend guns at each other. The little toddler, David, looked like the monkey in the middle, trying to keep up with his older brothers. Jake smiled. He played like that with Tom when they were young, chasing each other through the barns and fields at the family ranch. He clenched his jaw. He didn’t want to remember. Tom embraced the ranching, the old west lifestyle. Jake had wanted out. He scoffed. Tom should be the one here, leading this group of emigrants. Not him.
    Rachel’s soft voice snapped him out of his thoughts. His eyes roamed the camp in front of him. A fire burned low some ten feet from the wagon, but she wasn’t there. Neither was Thomas. Jake approached slowly, the delicious smell of something he couldn’t identify cooking in the Dutch oven sitting in the coals. His mouth watered. Rachel spoke again, and this time he honed in to where her voice was coming from. He still couldn’t see her, but he was sure she stood on the other side of the wagon. 
    “When are you going to start living your life again, Thomas? Your sons need their father. You’ve barely acknowledged David since he’s been born. It’s been nearly two years.”
    “How can I look at him . . . when . . .” Thomas’ gruff voice cut her off.
    “You’re his father. He needs you. Billy and Tommy need you. I can’t continue to be both mother and father to them. They are growing up.” Rachel implored in a pleading tone.
    Jake listened, guilt flooding him for eavesdropping. He wondered about the argument. What had happened two years ago? There was one thing she wasn’t saying. Jake waited for it, but the words he expected from a woman never came. She spoke of her kids needing their father. What she didn’t say was I need you .
      ”Mr. Owens, Mr. Owens, you came.” Tommy ran up to him at that moment. Jake turned and plastered a wide smile on his face. The boys surrounded him. The tot waddled up to him and grabbed hold of the fringes on his buckskins, babbling words that Jake didn’t understand.
    “Tell us how you saved Mr. Holland,” Billy demanded. Jake knelt down until he was at eye level with the boys.
    “First, I don’t go by Mr. Owens. Call me Jake,” he said. Billy and Tommy’s mouths dropped. The hero worship in their eyes grew exponentially.
    “You’re right on time for supper, Mr. Owens.” Rachel’s frigid and formal voice from behind him surprised him for a fleeting second. Jake’s lips rose at the corners of his mouth before he stood and turned to face her. The vulnerability in her pleading words to her husband a minute ago was gone. Jake