Love Inspired January 2014 - Bundle 1 of 2: Her Unexpected CowboyHis Ideal MatchThe Rancher's Secret Son

by Debra Clopton

  Faith crossed her arms over her stained T-shirt. “I had to remember that was God’s job.”

  Oh.

  “I’m here to guide them—but I’m not responsible for their success.” She hesitated. “Or their failure.”

  Great. Now she felt about two inches tall. This was a faith-centered camp, and she’d already tried to usurp God by her own efforts—and made fun of a fellow counselor in the process.

  Emma swallowed, ignoring the aftertaste of dirt—and crow. “You’re right. That’s priority.” Or it needed to be, anyway. But how could she lead by an example she wasn’t following herself?

  Faith started to speak, but a muffled cry sounded from behind them. Emma turned to see Tonya still attempting to make it through the barbed wire course. Despite the teen’s lithe figure, she struggled to progress—likely because of having less muscle tone capable of pulling her forward. Emma knew; she had faced the same problem. Sitting in her office, seeing patients the past several years in a row had clearly done nothing for her endurance.

  Or apparently, her own emotional health.

  Emma shook off the guilt and focused on Tonya. “Use your knees.” She immediately dropped to her own, her faded jeans sinking into the dirt, and gestured to Tonya through the rows of barbed wire. “Dig in with your forearms, not just your elbows.”

  Tonya let out a muffled cry of defeat, her face twisted into a mask of helplessness. Gone was the facade of “I’ve got it all together,” the masked image of “I belong on a runway.” Suddenly, she resembled exactly what she was—a scared, dirt-streaked young girl. “I can’t.”

  Well, she had to, unless Max was willing to cut the course apart to get her out. Emma glanced at him across the field, several yards away, blowing his whistle as the group gathered at the next challenge. Somehow, she didn’t figure he would.

  Faith touched Emma’s shoulder and she jerked, having almost forgotten the counselor was there. “Do you need me?”

  Emma couldn’t express how much she appreciated that trust—so undeserved. She shook her head. “No, I’ll talk her out. Don’t worry.”

  “I wasn’t worried in the least.” Faith proved her statement by wiggling her fingers in a wave and heading toward the rest of the group without a single glance back.

  It was up to Emma.

  She directed her attention back to Tonya. “You can do it. I know you’re tired, but it’s a lot better on this side. Trust me.” There was a metaphor somewhere in that, but neither of them had the time to go there now. Next crisis, maybe.

  Tears slipped down the teen’s beautiful, cocoa-colored cheeks, and she squeezed her eyes shut. “I’m dizzy.”

  Probably from stress. A lot of her patients manifested stress physically through headaches, nausea or dizziness. Emma leaned forward on her knees, tilting her head to meet Tonya’s bleary gaze. “Try again. Slowly.”

  Tonya shook her head rapidly. Great. Now her hair was threatening to tangle, and if that happened, Emma might as well go grab some wire cutters. There was only one thing to do. With a resigned breath, she lowered herself flat on her stomach and began crawling into the dreaded course to meet her.

  Surprise highlighted Tonya’s glistening eyes. “You came back.” Relief saturated her voice so completely Emma couldn’t help but smile.

  “I’m on your team.” She held the teen’s gaze to make her point, then tapped her dirt-caked hands. “Now dig.”

  Tonya’s lips pursed and she took a deep breath, then began pulling herself forward.

  “Forearms.”

  She adjusted her form and Emma began to crawl backward to get out of her way. After several bogged moments in the mud, they finally slipped under the end of the wires together and stood.

  “Thanks.” A red flush tinted Tonya’s face and she looked down, then away, the mask vacant but starting to flicker. “You know, for doing that. Coming back in and everything.”

  The immediate expression of gratitude still caught Emma off guard. She wanted to turn the incident into a lesson, but sometimes, the best lessons learned were the ones that weren’t forced. “No woman gets left behind.”

  A surprised smile quirked the corners of Tonya’s mouth, then faded. “Not everyone thinks so.” Her gaze darted to her teammates, who Emma could now clearly see were well on their way to the next event.

  “You’ll realize, probably sooner than you want, that friends don’t always make the best choices.” She flicked her hand to dismiss her before Tonya could revert to distant default. Emma wanted to leave this battlefield one step ahead. “Go on, now. The next challenge awaits.”

  “I’m pretty sure a significant one was already met.”

  She spun around at Max’s voice in such close proximity. “Max.” Her heart raced, and she squeezed her cold fingers into a fist. He still had the ability to get her blood pressure up.

  She refused to ponder why.

  His eyes warmed as they drew her in. Vaguely, she noticed Tonya jogging toward her group, but really, all she could take in was the way Max’s T-shirt hugged his muscles. He’d apparently shed the work shirt from earlier that morning, and the heather-gray color did dangerous things to his eyes.

  And her heart.

  He smiled, oblivious to the reaction she fought so hard in his presence. Anger, that was it. It had to be a weird visceral response to the years of bitterness toward him. Nothing more. Not attraction. Not curiosity.

  Definitely not regret.

  He ran his hand briefly over his hair, cowboy-hat free in honor of the course. “That was great.” He gestured toward the barbed wire course with a tanned arm. “Faith told me Tonya was having trouble but that you had it under control.”

  Yet he still had to come see for himself? Well, she couldn’t hold that against him. Other things, yes, but not that.

  She forced a smile in return. “She just needed some encouragement.”

  “I saw you go get her.” Max reached out and briefly touched her arm. The graze of his fingers burned and she jerked automatically away from the impact. “A lot of ground was covered. And not just literally. I’m impressed.”

  “I did what anyone would do.” She crossed her arms to avoid another congratulating pat, not sure she had enough bitterness riled up at the moment to be a sufficient barrier. Her heart soared at the thought she’d actually made a difference toward Tonya, and that she’d made the right choice in how she’d handled the girl’s struggle. Maybe she could do some good at the camp after all.

  Yet that good mood lowered her defenses, and with a secret the size of hers, she had to stay on guard.

  Max shook his head. “I think most counselors would have talked her through it from the sidelines. You dove back into the game.”

  She’d never been one for sports analogies, but she got his point. “I’m glad you’re not regretting hiring me.” Wait a minute, she wasn’t getting paid. She fumbled for the right words. “Or not hiring me. I mean, asking me to volunteer.” Perfect. Maybe if she kept talking, she could actually fit her foot in her mouth.

  A slow grin lit Max’s face, and her stomach reluctantly flipped. “I don’t regret that at all.”

  His emphasis on the word made her breath hitch, and she rolled in her bottom lip. The weight of her secret suddenly resembled a thousand anvils taking residence on her shoulders—too heavy to bear. Had she been wrong? About everything?

  No. She blinked, reminding herself of the memories she dredged up regularly to starve the guilt. Drugs. Guns. Bad guys. She’d saved her son.

  But exactly how far was Cody from that now, anyway?

  Max’s expression suddenly shadowed. “Uh-oh. Looks like Cody’s having trouble on the rope swing.”

  She followed his gaze to the challenge ahead, where the rest of the teams had gathered with Chaplain Tim, Faith and another male counselor wh
ose name escaped her. The joy she’d known from helping Tonya bled from her heart like water through a sieve. She could hear the taunting of Cody’s failure on the rope from some of the other boys, and compassion mixed with her natural mama-bear instincts. No one made fun of her son. She rushed forward.

  “I’ve got it.”

  His protest didn’t deter her and she pressed on. “I have to—”

  Max’s brow furrowed and he grasped her wrist to stop her. “I said, I’ve got it.” The warning in his eyes spoke volumes, reminding her of her place. She might have made a significant step with Tonya, but the proof was in the pudding—or more accurately, the bog. And right now her son was dangling above it, trapped and scorned.

  Proving once again that she could help everyone in the world except for those she loved the most.

  Chapter Seven

  It was the same in every camp—it never took long for the group to find the weakest link and stage an attack. Now the guys who had taunted Cody were raking the front yard as punishment, while the rest of the campers were allowed an hour of free time before dinner—their only break after an entire day of barn chores, the obstacle course, hiking and the individual chats with him he dubbed One4One.

  Max folded his arms and leveled his gaze at Cody, who could have been enjoying some video games or watching a movie had he not gotten in trouble, but was instead washing Max’s work truck. A trace of guilt still lingered over the way he’d stopped Emma so abruptly that morning, but she couldn’t go barreling over to save the day for her son. Talk about making matters worse for a guy. Plus, it was Max’s issue to handle. Emma had proven herself in the incident with Tonya, but even with the girls, she wouldn’t have final say in everything that came up. Volunteers were volunteers. Necessary, yes, but the bottom line came down to the kids, God—and Max.

  He had a lot of making up to do there.

  Speaking of making up—he hoped Emma wouldn’t be mad at him. He had only done what he had to in order to stop her from making a mistake, but that look in her eyes still taunted his soul. It’d been one part confusion, two parts hurt, all topped with a healthy heaping of doubt. Emotions he could recognize a mile away.

  He should know, he saw them in the mirror often enough.

  “This stinks.” Cody let out another, stronger word as he sloshed a bucket of water against the driver’s side door and halfheartedly rubbed it with a sponge. The water hose tangled on the gravel drive at his feet. Max considered suggesting that he un-kink it before turning the water back on but held the advice inside. The kid would figure it out when it wouldn’t flow.

  And just like the hose, he needed to figure out what was clogging Cody.

  “You do understand why you’re out here, don’t you?” He tugged the brim of his hat lower over his eyes to block the glare of the afternoon sun reflecting off the windshield.

  Cody shrugged, water dripping down his forearms and leaving dirty trails. He glared. “Because I said those bad words on the rope swing?”

  “Hardly.” Max snorted. “You just said a bad word ten seconds ago and didn’t even notice.”

  Cody remained silent, scrubbing at a mud streak on the truck door with more attention than it really required. Was he listening, finally? Max shifted his weight, wishing he’d brought a chair outside to pull up and level with the kid. But there’d be time enough for that during their One4One tomorrow. “You’d have been punished for the cursing, too, but not as severely. You’re out here because when you got off the rope, you swung at Peter.”

  “And missed.” Cody shot him a pointed glance, as if his bad aim should excuse him.

  “Sometimes, intention matters more than result.” A fact he wished he could go back and alter in his own life. If only these kids could glimpse five years, ten years into the future—man, what changes they’d make. “Trying to hit him is as bad as doing it.”

  The sponge splashed into the bucket, spraying water on Max’s boots as Cody straightened to his full height. “It’s not fair! He was laughing at me. They all were.”

  Not all, but Max could imagine it felt that way, hanging above a crowd and demonstrating to everyone that he couldn’t hack the challenge. Cody was the youngest, and smallest, kid in the camp. Physically, he was behind the other guys, but in spirit, he could rise far above—if only he’d properly channel that frustration and rage. Max had been the same way when he was in junior high, having not grown into his tall frame until later in his teen years. It stung being the smallest kid on the team in a culture obsessed with equating muscles with masculinity.

  But if he’d been told there were more important things to consider at the age of thirteen, would he have listened any better than Cody? If his dad had told him...maybe. Too late to ever know now. And from the blank line on Cody’s paperwork regarding his father, well, the kid wouldn’t get to discover that theory for himself, either.

  Once again, he and Cody were in the same holey boat.

  But Max hadn’t sunk to the bottom, and he was determined that Cody—and the rest of the kids in his charge this month—wouldn’t, either. He drew a steadying breath, praying for patience and wisdom. “How’d you feel, when they laughed at you?”

  Cody picked up the hose, fumbling with the nozzle and averting his eyes. “I didn’t care.”

  “No lying at Camp Hope.”

  He let out a huff. “Fine. I felt stupid. Happy now?”

  “Not really.” Max waited a beat, understanding the frustration that drove the teen’s illogical outbursts. They’d work on that together. But first things first. “Why did you feel stupid?”

  “Because I couldn’t do it. And everyone else could.”

  Definitely wasn’t the time to point out the girls had struggled with the challenge, except Stacy, who’d shown surprising strength and made it across the bog on her first try. “It’s not about what everyone else does. It’s about your effort. And if you hadn’t come down off the rope trying to land punches, I’d have been proud of how hard you tried.”

  Cody’s hands stilled on the water hose. “Really?” The gruff tone attempted to camouflage the hope under the words but failed.

  Max pretended not to notice. “Yeah, man. And besides, not being able to do something challenging on the first try doesn’t make you stupid. But handling it the way you did makes you a quitter.”

  “Let me guess.” Cody tried to spray the truck, but the water clogged as Max had predicted. He looked at the length of hose and finally knelt to untwist it. “No quitting at Camp Hope, either.”

  Max grinned. “You’re a fast learner. And that’s why you’re going to try again tomorrow.”

  Panic flashed across Cody’s face before he unleashed the water on the truck. The spray created a mist against the sunlight. “Do I have to?”

  “You want to be a quitter? Feel stupid?”

  He shook his head, staring down at the river of soapy suds sliding across the gravel.

  “Remember—everyone does things at their own pace, in their own time. You’re here for you.” Max reached out and clapped his hand on Cody’s shoulder, slightly surprised at the connection he felt toward the little guy. Probably because he was one of the youngest campers he’d ever had at the ranch—and maybe because so much of Cody reminded him of himself as a teenager. If he could keep these guys from making some of his mistakes, it’d all be worth it.

  “Just keep trying.” He patted Cody’s shoulder before dropping his hand to his side. “And keep your fists to yourself.”

  Cody smirked but didn’t argue as he shut off the water. “If you say so.”

  “There’s just one more thing.” Max plastered on his most serious expression, effective enough that Cody’s face fell.

  “What is it?” He squinted as if bracing himself.

  Max gestured to the truck, holding back a grin. “You missed a spot
.”

  He totally deserved the wet sponge that splattered against his stomach.

  * * *

  Despite the day of heavy physical activity, Emma couldn’t sleep. She adjusted the pillow under her head for the tenth time, wondering if Katie were going to snore every night or if this was an exception. Across the room from her bunk, Stacy muttered in her sleep, her deep Southern accent giving an odd rhythm to the half-formed words, while Tonya lay quietly, a pink glittered sleep mask covering her eyes.

  Emma rolled over, pulled the blanket over her ears, and squeezed her eyes shut. But all she could see in her mind’s eye was a replay of Cody swinging helplessly from a rope, the expression on his face a mixture of anger, embarrassment and fear.

  She sat up abruptly before she could picture the same expression paired with an orange jumpsuit, and swung her legs over the side of the bed. Maybe some water or milk from the kitchen would settle her nerves and help her sleep. A distraction was necessary, regardless. She couldn’t keep lying in bed alternating between regretting the past and wishing away the future.

  Including the regret of not having slammed past Max when he’d stopped her from getting involved with Cody.

  Max asked her to come to the camp as a favor—for him, of all people—then expected her to look the other way when her child was hurting and in need? When Cody was made out to be a target? When the last thing he needed at the camp was more reason to grow angry and bitter and distant?

  Though deep down, she couldn’t ignore the sensation that Max had a point. Underneath the surface layers of mama-bear instincts and desperation lay the truth—she’d have made things worse.

  Still, that didn’t take away the incessant desire to fix it. Fix Cody.

  Fix herself.

  Maybe she’d make that milk a hot chocolate.

  Emma threw on a flannel robe, knotted it at her waist and shoved her feet into the closest shoes she could find—her shower flip-flops. The night air would be chilly, but she’d rush to the kitchen and be back before she had time to get cold—or before the girls could wake up and realize she’d left.