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

by Debra Clopton

  His beloved camp had morphed into a low-budget soap opera.

  He hung up the phone with Tonya’s parents and ran his hand down his jaw. He felt old. Tired. And borderline useless. Not exactly the way he should be feeling as the end of the camp approached. He’d been so sure this would be the best session ever, yet it was shaping up to be an utter failure.

  Did God want him to even do this ministry anymore?

  He picked up his Bible, tried to quiet the rustlings in his heart, but he couldn’t hear past the layer of anger. It was too raw, too fresh. He just hurt on too many levels—it was as though Emma betrayed him all over again. He’d dealt with the pain of losing her so suddenly, her rash change of mind that now, looking back, made sense. She hadn’t wanted to have a child with him, so she’d bailed. Never looked back.

  Until she’d been forced to.

  Had the kiss they’d shared last night been real on her part, or more lies? He might never know—and it didn’t really matter. It wasn’t as if there could be a repeat with this huge barrier between them. No wonder she’d been so guarded in her time at the ranch. The fact that she’d even taken the job he offered was huge. Maybe she’d been seeking to make amends in her own way, knowing she owed him. But no, that wasn’t Emma. Emma wasn’t the type to strive to right wrongs.

  That was more his style.

  He tucked his Bible back into his desk drawer. No number of Psalms would stop the incessant roiling of his thoughts today. He’d read later when he could make sense of the words beyond his own heartbeat.

  He was a dad. A father. He had a son.

  It still didn’t make sense, though the uncanny connection he felt to Cody now rang clear. The similarities, the matching stubbornness. That deep desire to help him that went beyond what he’d ever felt toward a camper before.

  His son.

  How was he supposed to act around Cody? How could he look at the boy the same? Impossible. He couldn’t—nor should he. But when would they tell him? Had Emma even considered the ramifications of that?

  He almost wished she’d kept her secret a couple weeks longer.

  Max groaned. He wasn’t ready for this. He had no training of his own to be a dad, no example. Look what his own father had been and how Max had turned out. Maybe he’d made it eventually through the worst, but the earlier years...well, he still had a lot of making up to do. A lot to prove. To himself, and to God.

  What if he messed up Cody even further?

  Max shoved away from his desk, the chair squeaking against the floor, and moved to turn off his office light. He couldn’t dwell on that right now, not when he’d have to see Cody soon and be forced to keep up Emma’s charade a bit longer. He had to focus on business for the time being. People depended on him—like Tonya. Her parents would be there by the end of the day, so he needed to tell her to get her things ready.

  He tucked the folded slip of paper recommending professional counseling into his shirt pocket and made a mental note to hand it over to her family when they arrived. Hopefully she’d find the right path and stay on it. He could sort of commiserate now with Emma’s misplaced guilt over the girl. Tonya had such potential—but she’d been keeping a secret, too. He couldn’t help what he wasn’t aware of.

  Which begged the question—what else didn’t he know about his campers?

  It was enough to make a man paranoid.

  He started for the kitchen to grab a bottle of water, then ducked back out at the sound of Mama Jeanie’s singing. She always sang when she cooked, and he didn’t want to listen to the hymns right now, nor did he want another lecture full of cryptic wisdom. Just couldn’t stomach it today.

  He turned up the stairs to his master bedroom, thinking to grab some water from the dorm fridge he kept by his bed instead, and paused at what sounded suspiciously like footsteps—on the second floor, where no campers were allowed. He frowned, quickening his step and pushing open the door to his room with authority.

  No one was there.

  Probably just the floorboards creaking. The house wasn’t exactly new.

  He grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge and twisted open the lid. He took a long sip, then replaced the cap as a sinking sensation spread through his gut. Something was different. He turned a slow circle in the center of the room, trying to place it. The rug on the wood floor by the dresser lay flat and straight. The dark green bedspread still hung crooked like he’d left it—as usual, since the only reason he made his bed in the first place was because he enforced that rule with the campers. The rustic clock of a cowboy knelt before a cross ticked a steady rhythm, the only sound breaking the quiet. He shrugged. All was right.

  Except he hadn’t left his top dresser drawer open an inch.

  He tossed the bottle down and pulled the drawer open. Should be socks. Boxers. And...he fished underneath the rolls of wadded socks. It wasn’t there.

  Oh, no.

  He slammed the drawer shut just as an angry voice sounded from behind.

  Cody, red-faced and steely-eyed, stood framed in the doorway, holding the picture of Max and Emma. “You’re a liar.”

  * * *

  Emma woke with a remnant of the peace she’d found the night before but not all of it. She went through the motions of the day, trying to focus on the girls and their activities, realizing her remaining time with Tonya was short, but she couldn’t shake the memory of Max’s face when she’d confessed.

  Finally, she couldn’t take it any longer. She had to see Max, had to know how he was processing this, or she’d explode with the what-ifs. She left the girls with Faith in the barn, saddling up for a trail ride under Luke’s direction, and headed for the main house.

  Mama Jeanie intercepted her outside the kitchen before the door even shut behind her. “Don’t go upstairs.” Her tone, always brisk and authoritative, seemed even firmer than usual.

  Emma hesitated. “Where’s Max?”

  “Upstairs.” Mama Jeanie shifted the mixing bowl she held in one hand to the other, pausing to swipe her free arm against her apron. “You’re not going on the trail ride?” She gestured out the front window, where Luke, Faith and Tim were monitoring the teens as they buckled saddle girths.

  “Maybe later. Right now I need to find Max.” Not that it was any of Mama Jeanie’s business. The woman had a kind heart, but Emma wasn’t in the mood for instruction from someone who had no idea the level of chaos they were currently in. She headed for the stairs.

  Mama Jeanie’s voice neared panic. “I don’t think right now is a good time.”

  Sudden yelling sounded from above, punctuated by a slamming door and thumping footsteps. Emma’s heart raced as she stared with dread up the staircase. Had Max totally lost it? She looked back at Mama Jeanie, her former irritation long gone as she considered hiding behind the petite woman. Max had never had a temper like that—in fact, that sounded more like how Cody used to—

  Cody pounded down the stairs, almost flying past her, but she reached out with long-honed instincts and caught the sleeve of his sweatshirt. “Not so fast. Where are you going?”

  He spun in a sudden half circle at her interception, and something small and square fluttered from his grip and landed at her feet.

  Emma stared down at her own image, arms curled around Max’s shoulder, a happy grin on her face as he pressed a kiss against her temple, and dread seeped through her chest. She released Cody’s sleeve, staring in horror at the proof she couldn’t deny. No. No. No. Why had Max kept that? So many years ago...the implications bubbled to the surface and layered her dread with regret. He’d waited for her.

  She was going to be sick.

  Max appeared on the bottom steps moments later, out of breath but not heaving nearly as hard as Cody. “Cody, wait.” His “I’m in charge” voice did nothing to defuse the situation. “I know you’re upset, but we’v
e got to talk about this.”

  “Talk about what?” The teen bent and snatched the photo from the ground, waving it in their faces. “Dad.”

  Emma sucked in her breath, and Max’s face drained of color. He hadn’t told him. Cody had figured it out? How?

  It was as if he read her mind.

  “Yeah, I might get in trouble a lot, but I’m not stupid.” He pointed at Max. “Everyone kept telling me how much you looked like me. How we talked the same. Same stupid cowlick.” He slapped at his hair.

  “Why were you in my room, Cody?” A slow flush of red filled Max’s throat and jaw.

  “Looking for cash.” He stuck his chin out in contrived bravado, but the slight quiver gave away his emotion. “On a dare.”

  “From who?”

  “What’s it matter? I found this instead. I didn’t steal.” His eyes, glassy with unshed tears, narrowed at Max. “You lied to me. Made me think you were on my side. And, Mom...you...” His voice grew smaller and the betrayal in his eyes shattered Emma’s heart. “You lied the most. The longest.”

  “We need to talk.” Max held out his hand. “Give me the picture, Cody.”

  From the corner of her eye, she observed Mama Jeanie slipping quietly back into the kitchen, giving them space. She wished she could follow her. Emma knew what Max was doing, trying to defuse the situation by establishing control, by prompting Cody to respond to them in obedience in a small matter to build trust toward the bigger issue. Handing over the picture was the first step to them all calming down and restoring the proper order.

  Not that it’d be that easy.

  “Fine. You want it?” Cody picked up the photo, ripped it in half and tossed the pieces at them. “Take it. I don’t want it. Don’t want either of you.”

  The door slammed behind him, and something unleashed deep inside Emma, cracking open and revealing even more shattered pieces. Her son was done with her. Because of Max.

  Her peace from the night before disappeared completely into a dark abyss of hopelessness. “This is your fault.” She poked her finger hard against Max’s chest. “You did this! You kept that picture. You passed down all of this anger and rebellion. It’s you!”

  “It takes two people to make a child, Emma.” Max gripped her forearms and held her away from him. “You’re the one that left, that never even gave me a chance to be involved!”

  “How could I? I came back, Max. I came back!” She struggled in his grip, all logic and reasoning fleeing her senses as she surrendered herself to the pent-up emotion she’d restrained for far too long. “I saw you making that deal.” The words hissed from her lips, words she’d been longing to fling at him for thirteen years.

  “What deal?” Confusion and pain seeped from his expression, despite his voice rising even louder than hers. But instead of anger, it was laced with panic. “I don’t know what you’re talking about!”

  “The drugs, Max. You said you would quit. That I was enough.” Her voice shook with unshed sobs and she struggled to get the words out through the tears. “I saw you taking that deal. At the park. Near our spot.”

  Clarity bled through Max’s eyes, and he released Emma’s arms abruptly. “I flushed those.”

  She staggered backward. “What?”

  He stabbed his fingers through his hair. “I flushed them. I did the deal, yeah. I was weak. I missed you and wanted a distraction. But the second he left, I remembered my promise to you and that meant more to me than a temporary fix. I never did a hit after the last one you knew about, Emma. I flushed them.”

  He’d flushed them.

  And he’d changed.

  Yet she’d ran.

  Despair began a slow assault, pummeling her heart. She reached toward Max, but it was like stretching toward the past—impossible to grasp.

  “I didn’t know.” The words sounded impossibly weak, and the biggest understatement anyone had ever spoken.

  The grief in his eyes would linger in her memory for the rest of her days. “You didn’t let me tell you.”

  The back door burst open, and Luke ran in, hair mussed and jacket flapping open. “Cody and Jarvis are gone.”

  “Gone? What do you mean?” Max strode past Luke to the porch, scanning both directions. “He was just here.”

  “There was a mix up. We split up the group for the trail ride, and Tim and I both thought Cody was with the other group. We didn’t get far before realizing we didn’t have Cody or Jarvis with us. They’re not in the dorms, either, or the rec room.” Luke’s eyes filled with worry. “I think they ran away.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  Not even twenty-four hours into fatherhood, and Max had lost his son.

  He paced in front of the barn, wishing there was something else he could do besides walk and watch his breath puff as the afternoon waned colder. Tim and Faith had gone back out to finish the trail ride with the rest of the campers, in an effort to keep them in the dark about what was going on a little while longer. Luke called in backup from the church for a search party, while Tonya’s parents picked her up not a minute too soon. Emma had hugged the girl goodbye on the porch, then disappeared inside the dormitory. He didn’t know what she was doing. Packing? Pacing? Praying?

  Would she leave?

  Did he want her to?

  Thankfully Brady, Caley and Ava had come over right away. After quick hugs, the girls went to the kitchen to help Mama Jeanie make some refreshments for the search crew while Brady followed his pace.

  “It’s going to be okay, man. We’ll find them.” Brady rubbed his hands together before pulling his gloves from his jacket pocket.

  “He’s my son.”

  Brady stopped midstep, one glove dangling from his fingers. “Say what?”

  “Cody’s my kid. Emma told me last night.” He shoved his hands in his pockets, not having any gloves to wear and grateful for the cold ache in his fingers that reminded him he wasn’t totally numb after all. Yet.

  Brady’s hand clamped his shoulder. “We’ll figure this out. Nothing’s too big for the Lord.” He offered a wry grin. “Not even this kind of a secret.”

  Max snorted. “Guess we’ll see.” If they found them, that is. Jarvis and Cody together were an unlikely pair, and Max couldn’t figure out what they were up to. Why would the two kids who hated each other the most run off together? To create trouble? To fight it out alone? That didn’t seem like Cody’s style, though the anger that had radiated off him when he left the house earlier hadn’t, either. The kid’s—his son’s—wounds ran deep.

  Mostly because of him and Emma and their mistakes.

  “Search party’s ready. We’re going to split up and spread out.” Luke strode to Max’s side and gestured to the group of men behind him, wearing jackets and ball caps, some with walkie-talkies clipped to their belts. Max recognized most of them from the church, though there were new faces, as well. Ten men in all.

  “Thanks for coming.” They made a quick plan to determine groups and who would search where. Most would go on foot, while one set took the remaining horses from the barn, and another took his and Brady’s four-wheelers. Some would take the road, though that was the least likely way the boys would have traveled.

  Luke stepped closer to Max and lowered his voice. “Have you called the police?”

  “Not yet.” Max rubbed his jaw. “Trying to avoid that if possible. But if they get too far...” His property spread a good ways, but the worst part was, it joined with Brady’s. It wouldn’t take the boys any effort to shimmy under the fence and then have free rein for miles on the Double C—including bulls and wild animals. “Let’s see what we find first.” Just couldn’t wait too long, because once it got dark, the boys were in for a rough night. In some ways it’d teach them a valuable lesson, but Max hoped to avoid lessons involving coyotes—or worse. Besides, his c
ampers’ parents trusted him to keep them safe.

  The sight of Brady’s pistol tucked into the back of his jeans as he hurried off only made the reality of their situation more grim.

  The men left, agreeing Max would stay at Camp Hope to be there for the campers when the trail ride ended. He had to keep things running, whether he felt like it or not. Suddenly alone, he stared down at the path he’d created in the dirt while pacing and slowly began to rub the evidence away with his boot. Too bad he couldn’t erase the past twenty-four hours as easily.

  But what would he change? He couldn’t go back to pretending he didn’t have a kid. The thought now brought a hollow ache to his gut. There were some things the heart couldn’t un-know. He would be there for Cody from here on out, no matter what. But what would that look like? They lived in different worlds. His work was at Camp Hope, in the nowhere town of Broken Bend, Louisiana, while Emma and Cody had their own life in a big thriving Texas city.

  So many questions. So few answers.

  And none of them would matter if Cody didn’t make it back in one piece.

  Panic, the kind Max realized only a father could feel, seized his heart. He began to pray. God, I can’t fix this. I don’t know where my son is, but You do. Could You show us, please? He began to pace again, this time praying with every footstep. There was nothing he could do about the past—he couldn’t get back the time he’d lost, the time Emma had robbed him of. But he could pray for the future.

  And despite his lingering anger and betrayal over Emma’s choices, he wanted a future with them. As a family.

  It seemed too impossible to even pray for.

  Was that what a father’s love did? Sought the impossible? Hoped when there was little or no proof to do so?

  His father hadn’t shown him that kind of love.

  But his Heavenly Father had.

  And he’d ignored it. Shoved it away. Sought to prove himself against the grace freely offered to him.