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

by Debra Clopton

  Even now, though, wasn’t he doing the same thing with Emma? Wanting to push, test his limits, see how close he could get to winning her back?

  No. He couldn’t go there right now.

  He led Cody to a corner of the room that wasn’t occupied and turned his full attention to the boy. The pained glaze in his eyes felt hauntingly familiar. Max had been the same way growing up—it was like looking in a mirror from years ago, all that hurt and sadness bottled behind a thick wall of defense. If it hadn’t been for Brady and his influence—not to mention Emma’s—Max would still be in big trouble. Who would be “Brady” to Cody? Who would knock down those walls?

  He wanted to do it. But one month in a camp wasn’t always long enough. Yet somehow, Max felt more compelled to try than ever before. He sat Cody down on the edge of a chair near the front of the room and took the ottoman across from him, pulling it up so their knees nearly touched and their words wouldn’t carry. “What gives, man?”

  Cody shrugged, an odd mixture of pride and repentance engraved in his expression. “Jarvis is a bully.”

  Max leaned back slightly, crossing his arms over his chest. “You hit him, though. What does that make you?”

  “Smarter?”

  He almost laughed, a gut reaction, but he held it at bay. Despite the surprise of the answer, this was serious. Moments like these had eternal consequence. If Cody didn’t realize the severity of his choices, he might never turn back. The weight of that wiped any trace of a smile from Max’s face. “Wrong answer.”

  Cody sighed and looked down at his hands. “It’s not that big a deal.”

  “It’s sort of a huge deal, Cody.” Max waited until the boy looked up, and held his gaze. “That’s twice you’ve either attempted or succeeded at starting a physical fight here at Camp Hope. You know that’s against the rules.”

  Once more and it’d be his third strike. Unless Max and the other counselors met and decided to wipe the first offense off his camp record since he didn’t actually make contact with Peter at the rope swing. But that could go either way and, regardless, the situation brought Cody way too close to being terminated from the camp. Max had to keep the camp safe for the other campers.

  No playing favorites, even if he did feel inexplicably drawn to Cody.

  “Am I being kicked out?”

  Max couldn’t tell if that was his goal or not, and the thought that it could be made him want to simultaneously slap the teen upside his head and hug his neck. He knew where the rebellion was birthed; he’d experienced it himself.

  But that didn’t make the blatant disrespect and apathy any easier to swallow—especially by those who went out of their way to help hurting kids. Kids who lashed out and hurt others because of their own wounds, like an angry lion with its paw in a trap. Assaulting the one trying to set it free.

  Well, Max had his share of battle wounds and wasn’t afraid of a few more. Not when it could mean the difference between life and death. “If you want out, you’re free to leave.” The words were a gamble, but he knew when a scared teenager was bluffing. Cody’s sudden wide eyes proved his instincts true. “Hit the road, Jack. Have fun in juvie. I know for a fact the food isn’t nearly as good.”

  Cody’s eyes narrowed in defense. “I’m not going to juvie.”

  “You will if you leave here. This is Last Chance City, and you know it.”

  The fight momentarily left his eyes, and suddenly the abandoned, lost little boy was all Max could see. He leaned forward, bracing his elbows on his knees, not wanting to lose the momentary breakdown of a wall. “I want you here, Cody. But you have to follow the rules for the program to work. I can’t help you if I’m constantly breaking up fights.”

  Cody traced an aimless pattern on the knee of his jeans with one finger, not responding.

  “I need you to meet me halfway.” Max held his breath. “And I need you to realize that hitting someone bigger than you doesn’t make you better than them. In fact, it makes you pretty small.”

  The teen’s gaze lifted then, doused in hope and confusion. The sight of it nearly broke Max’s heart. Had no one ever told him that in a way that he could relate to? But who would have if the boy didn’t have a father or even, as far as he knew, a family member or friend taking on the role?

  He swallowed the unusual level of empathy he felt toward Cody and pressed forward with his advice. “Anyone can throw punches and maybe land a few. But it takes a bigger man to walk away and to learn which battles to take on.” He paused. “Make sense?”

  “Sort of.”

  “It will. If you just follow my lead and quit attacking people.” Max rushed on as Cody’s mouth opened in protest. “Even those who you feel attack you first. Trust me, it’s the only way.”

  His shoulders deflated. “Yes, sir.”

  “And, Cody?”

  The boy raised his eyebrows indifferently, but life flickered in his eyes. He cared—whether he wanted to or not.

  Max continued before he could get too excited about the fact. “Man to man, I’m here for you. About anything. All right?”

  A tiny smile lifted one corner of Cody’s mouth before he shoved it aside with his typical, bored expression. He nodded, feigning disinterest.

  It still counted. A small victory, but he’d take it. Max stood, relief coursing through his veins, and gestured for Cody to join him. “You know you have a punishment to fulfill now, huh?”

  “I figured.” Cody sighed and trudged toward the game room door. “Potatoes?”

  “Nope. Rope swing.” They’d kill two birds with one stone, however pathetically small it might be. And they’d stay out there until Cody got it right. “Potatoes will be dessert.”

  He shot the boy a look that silenced his protesting groan and nodded in satisfaction at the “yes, sir” that abruptly followed. One step at a time, whether it was two forward and three back or not.

  One thing remained certain—Cody Shaver was going to know what it was like to have a father figure.

  Even if only for a month.

  * * *

  She shouldn’t have listened. Eavesdropping was wrong, and disrespectful. But after Pastor Tim had intercepted Jarvis in the hallway and she’d gone back to check on Cody, she couldn’t help but overhear the words Max murmured urgently to her son. Things she’d been trying to say to him for months but they had fallen on completely disinterested ears. Would Cody listen to Max any better than he had to her? Would it change anything? Detour him from the path he’d started walking down?

  He’d attacked Jarvis. The memory made her hands shake. Clearly he’d been provoked, but still—her little boy had jumped another kid. At a camp for troubled teens, no less.

  Was this hopeless after all?

  She’d nearly gotten caught when they’d abruptly ended their conversation and headed her way. She’d ducked around the corner into the upstairs bathroom, which was thankfully empty, and hid behind the half-closed door until they passed, breathing the smell of the citrus plug-in and trying to calm her erratic heartbeat as Max’s words replayed in her head. I need you to meet me halfway. It takes a bigger man to learn which battles to take on.

  Man to man, I’m here for you.

  Her heart constricted until she couldn’t breathe. Max had no idea the depth of what he was saying. Not the slightest clue—and it was her fault. But if Cody was starting to respond to him, even slightly, how much more harm would it do to tell the truth now? It wouldn’t be letting a cat out of a bag—no, this would be more akin to unleashing a snarling tiger.

  On her son.

  No. She couldn’t do it. No matter how much it hurt to hear Max be tender and compassionate with her son—his son—she wouldn’t wield a giant red stop sign in front of Cody. Not while there was even a smidgen of hope that this program could save him.

  She sagged aga
inst the bathroom wall, the towel bar digging into her back. But oh, Max had sounded so...sweet. Strong. Achingly familiar. Like all those nights he’d held her and promised he wanted a life with her. That she was a good influence on him. That he’d change.

  Well, he had, sometime over the past thirteen years. And he’d never bothered to let her know.

  She stiffened, the scent of the orange air freshener and the adrenaline churning in her stomach strengthening her resolve. This situation wasn’t all her fault. The door swung both ways, after all, and the other side had never been knocked on. Max could have sought her out if he’d missed her as terribly as he indicated last night in the kitchen. She might have purposefully gone off the grid while pregnant, but there were always ways around that if someone wanted to make the effort badly enough. He could have found her.

  The fact that he didn’t pursue her after turning his life around said plenty about what she’d actually meant to him. She’d been a good time, just like all the other girls he’d been rumored to be with, and nothing more.

  And she knew that going into it. She’d sought Max initially out of rebellion and a skewed sense of need and didn’t deserve anything more than the heartache she got. That’s what happened when good girls went rogue. God had taught her a lesson, and she’d learned it the hard way—in fact, she was still paying for her mistake.

  But she refused to let Cody be a casualty of her spiritual battle. She’d do whatever—whatever—it took to make sure he didn’t follow in his father’s early footsteps. Max would be a good dad to Cody, when the time was right. But that time was not today—even if the memory of their gentle conversation would linger in her ears long after the lights were shut off in the dorm.

  She pushed away from the wall. Enough of this mental back-and-forth. She couldn’t hide in a bathroom forever, and debating with herself wouldn’t accomplish anything. It was time to get back to work. Just because she had to be hands-off with Cody right now didn’t mean she couldn’t try to help Katie, Tonya and Stacy to the best of her ability. Those girls needed her.

  And she needed to be needed.

  Emma cautiously peered around the frame before slipping into the hallway. Surely it was safe to come out now.

  Though anywhere near Max Ringgold could never be considered safe.

  Chapter Nine

  The weekend flew by, and with the activities Max had lined up, Emma didn’t see him or Cody much.

  Thankfully.

  Instead, she focused on her girls, and Faith came by for the entire day Saturday to help out with the group projects. Max lightened the intensity of the workload on weekends, meaning the teens—and by default, Emma—got to sleep until eight o’clock in the morning instead of six-thirty. So she and Faith took the girls on a hike, since exercise was required every day, and then messed around at the rock climbing station until all their arms were too achy to continue.

  Being outside under the impossibly blue sky had been therapeutic, providing Emma a temporary reprieve from the thoughts that circled as relentlessly as vultures. Her first week at Camp Hope hadn’t been boring, that was for sure, though at least Cody hadn’t had any more issues—that Max had made her aware of. Who knew what went on in their private counseling sessions? But being with the girls, facing physical challenges and inhaling the wheat-scented country air, made Emma forget the turmoil of seeing Max and Cody together. Forget her son was one breath away from serious trouble.

  Forget that the man in the cowboy hat still carried a piece of her heart somewhere in the pocket of his Wranglers.

  Now, Monday morning, they were taking their shift in the barn, an hour before the boys would arrive to do their chores. Faith had gone home to her family Saturday night late, meaning she’d missed the optional Sunday morning devotionals. Max didn’t force that time on the teens, though he offered rewards for attending, so more than half the group showed up. Stacy and Tonya hadn’t wanted to attend, preferring to sleep an extra thirty minutes instead, so Emma stayed with them in the dorm, grateful for the excuse. She didn’t know if she was ready to see Max hold a Bible with the same hands he once used to take drugs and hot-wire cars. Her world had been rocked enough the past week. One mind-blowing event at a time.

  She paced the barn aisle in a slow rhythm, feeling way too much like a prison warden as she checked the girls’ progress on mucking stalls. Stacy, her curly hair pulled back into a messy ponytail, worked hard, though not exactly cheerfully. Tonya hoisted her pitchfork with much slower movements, a sheen of sweat dotting her brow despite the early November chill penetrating the barn walls. Then there was Katie, who actually whistled while she shoveled, pausing now and then to pet one of the horses or coo at them in baby talk.

  Emma slowed in front of the stall Katie cleaned, rolling in her lower lip as she studied her. The teen was a mystery, seemingly completely unaffected by the bad moods of the others in the camp. Her file was thin, her transgressions not nearly as severe compared to the other campers. If it didn’t sound so ridiculous, she’d think Katie wanted to be at Camp Hope.

  The ambitious little redhead had thrived the most on the rock climbing wall, too, reaching a height the other girls couldn’t, though Stacy had certainly given it a solid try. Tonya struggled with the challenge, her feet slipping off the rocks and sending her swinging in her harness several times. She’d wobbled unsteadily once back on solid ground but quickly wrote it off to a fear of heights. Faith had pulled Emma aside, worrying that Tonya was lying since she hadn’t mentioned her fear previously, but Emma chalked it up to the fact Tonya probably hadn’t wanted to admit her phobia in front of the other girls. From what she’d seen at Camp Hope so far, saving face meant everything to these kids.

  She could relate. Wasn’t hiding her fears from both Max and Cody her own daily goal?

  “How’s Buttercup?”

  Emma turned at the unfamiliar voice behind her. A pretty woman her own age strolled toward her, shiny chestnut hair pulled back in a low ponytail. She wore a denim jacket and carried a large duffel-style bag, and her eyes gave each horse she passed a cursory glance before she focused on Emma with a smile.

  She assumed Buttercup was one of the horses but couldn’t for the life of her figure out which one or why this woman cared. Was she a visiting parent? Max hadn’t mentioned another counselor, even a part-time one. She hesitated. “Buttercup?” Made her think of cupcakes, which made her miss her favorite indulgence in Dallas. Funny how she hadn’t missed anything else in the week-plus they’d lived in Broken Bend.

  The woman gestured toward the last stall on the right. “The bay mare? Max said she was limping.” She laughed. “Sorry, I always was guilty of getting right down to business. I’m Dr. Rachel Peters—veterinarian.”

  “Oh! Of course. I didn’t realize something was wrong.” Emma stepped aside for Rachel to pass her in the barn aisle, craning her head to make sure the girls were still working. “Go ahead. I’ll go find Max.”

  “No.” The doctor’s expression darkened momentarily, and she cast a quick glance over her shoulder as if checking to make sure he wasn’t already there. “That’s totally not necessary.”

  Weird. Now an uneasy feeling crept through Emma’s stomach. Maybe she’d read too many spy novels lately, but why would the vet not want the horse’s owner to watch her perform a treatment? Something wasn’t on the up-and-up. She might not know much about horses, but Emma knew enough about body language to know this woman was hiding something.

  She followed her into Buttercup’s stall. “Listen, this might not be my place, but I am on staff here right now, and I don’t feel comfortable with this. I think I need to get Max.” She crossed her arms, ready to argue further if necessary.

  Rachel looked up from where she already knelt by Buttercup’s left leg. Surprise highlighted her classically beautiful features. Then she laughed. “I guess that did sound sort of cryptic.” She
shook her head, and wisps of her hair fluttered against her face. “Max and I...we have a history of sorts. So I try to stay out of his way when I make house calls.”

  Another sick feeling spread through Emma’s midsection, though she much preferred the first one to this. History. They’d dated. When? For how long? Had it been serious? A dozen questions vied for release at once, and Emma swallowed them all back. “I see.” She didn’t see, not really, and the fact left a bitter aftertaste in her mouth.

  Rachel rubbed her hand down various parts of Buttercup’s leg, and the horse continued to pull hay from her feeder with stubby lips as if nothing unusual were happening. “He and I go way back.”

  She nodded, though her heart shouted a contradiction. Not as far back as she and Max went.

  Or did they?

  Better yet, why did it matter?

  “It’s none of my business.” Understatement of the year. But at the same time...Emma began easing backward out of the stall, dying to hear more, yet desperate to escape before she did. “I shouldn’t have interfered.”

  Rachel lifted Buttercup’s hoof and studied the shoe before carefully setting her leg back on the straw-covered ground. “It’s sweet you’re protective.”

  Protective? Of Max? Hardly. She’d just wanted to make sure some stranger wasn’t harming his horses under her own nose. She opened her mouth to argue but Rachel continued, brushing her hair back from her face. “It’s good to know he has someone looking out for him again. He’s been brokenhearted before, you know.” She knelt and rummaged through her bag.

  Heat flushed a trail up Emma’s neck and into her cheeks. She pressed her cold fingers against what surely had to be a telltale blush and sucked in a sharp breath. Brokenhearted. By her? By Rachel? Someone else?