The Rancher's Secret Son. Betsy Amant St.
a baby. I’m great.” She wiped tears from the corners of her eyes, laughed and then winced as what had to be another contraction crumpled her expression. “No. Not great. They’re getting closer together, and stronger.”
“So, I guess we’re not going riding.”
Max turned. Stacy, his oldest camper, a seventeen-year-old with curly blond hair, crossed her arms in the center of the barn aisle. The question in her voice held more than a bit of amusement, and even a punch of satisfaction. Something along the tune of I dare you to try to fix me now. You can’t even run your own camp.
He’d heard that tone before, and there was only one solution. Denial. “Of course we’re still going riding.” He cleared his throat and lowered his voice an octave to show authority. “Luke will take Nicole to the hospital, and we’ll saddle up as planned. Tell the others.”
Stacy rolled her eyes but thankfully turned to obey.
Good enough for now. One hormonal woman at a time, and the one standing in front of him took first priority. He focused on Nicole, who was still alternating deep breaths with winces of pain as she waddled toward the back door of the barn—the one closest to the female dorms.
It was official. He was about to be one chaperone short of a camp. And with his other counselor, Faith, working only part-time since she had young children of her own, he now had no one to stay overnight with the female campers.
God, I need a plan here. And uh, Nicole needs a doctor. Looked like her baby would be four weeks early, unless they were able to stop the labor at the hospital. And even then, he knew enough to understand she’d likely be on full bed rest until the baby came. He swallowed his dismay. “You want me to call 9-1-1?”
Luke stopped as he caught up to Nicole and turned, shaking his head. “Her suitcase is ready. We’ll just grab it and head that way. I’ll call you if we need anything.” He started to say more, then stopped as Nicole clutched his arm. “See you later, man.” He ushered her away, and just like that, Max was left in a bind.
He breathed a prayer for safety for the baby and Nicole both, added one for sanity for Luke, and then headed into the sunlight to face ten campers.
Alone.
Make that another prayer of sanity for himself.
He forced a smile and took a deep breath as he faced his campers, some standing with concerned expressions, others feigning—or perhaps truly feeling—disinterest.
“So there’s been some excitement here on your first day.” He laughed, then cut it short when it sounded as awkward as it felt. “Nicole will be—uh, indisposed—for the rest of this camp session. For good reason, of course. I know she wishes she could be here with you guys. And girls.”
Great. Now he was stumbling all over himself, and the kids just stared at him, expecting answers, and he had none to give. He rolled in his lower lip. “Don’t worry, I’m working on a replacement now.” Or at least, he hoped God was, because he had zero ideas. Luke and Nicole had been his right hands bringing this camp together the past year, and now he was short. Leaving him handicapped and near panic.
His mind raced. He still had Faith, who would be there later that afternoon; Tim, the middle-aged chaplain who also acted as dorm leader and could stay with the guys overnight; and two college kids who served as activity chaperones as needed on a part-time basis. He could see if they’d offer a few more hours, maybe bribe them with gift cards to stay the night here and there to assist Tim. And if Nicole was able to stay on bed rest, then maybe Luke would still come do a few stints as much as he could until she actually had the baby.
He nodded slowly, trying not to panic. He could do this—but not without another female counselor. Someone from the church, maybe? They’d be willing to volunteer, at least, for the ministry angle. But who was qualified to do it? He didn’t just need a babysitter, he needed someone who could interact with these kids and reach them. Someone like Luke and Tim, who understood the guys, knew how to talk to them. Could love them without letting them get away with stuff.
His eyes landed on Cody, who seemed to be avoiding what was going on as he rubbed a black mare under her chin. Mental note—the boy liked animals. Just like Emma always had. He wondered briefly what other interests he shared with his mom—
Emma.
He swallowed as an idea lodged in his mind and refused to budge. Emma, with her child psychology degree. Emma, who was staying nearby at her mother’s and had nothing to do until Cody graduated the camp in a month.
Emma, who’d been the only other person at the table to speak up during the teens’ impromptu concert and showed ability to handle this group of unpredictable, miniature adults.
No. He couldn’t.
But as his eyes swept across his three female campers and landed on Stacy’s pointed smirk, resignation took over any lingering trace of pride. He had to ask her. There was no one else available on such short notice, certainly not anyone qualified. She could still keep her space from Cody since the majority of their activities were gender-separated. The first day trail ride was an exception, to get all the curious boy-girl stares out of each other’s systems. He’d make sure Cody didn’t feel smothered having Emma on the grounds.
But would she do it?
And could he really ask her?
“The details will work themselves out. I’ll get someone in here ASAP. For now, let’s go ahead and saddle up.” Max clapped his hands together, sending a few teens scurrying for their mounts and the others groaning and eyeing their horses with dismay. He knew the feeling. He pretty much wanted to moan and pout, too. God, I know this camp was Your idea, so I’m hoping You have a plan here.
His sinking heart confirmed what he knew and didn’t want to admit. God had a plan, all right.
He just really wished it weren’t going to have to involve Emma Shaver.
Chapter Four
Emma swung on her mom’s front porch swing the next afternoon, her bare feet pushing off the wooden deck. Clanging dishes sounded through the screen door, where her mother was cleaning up from lunch, erasing all evidence of their chicken salad sandwiches. She’d offered to help, but Mom insisted Emma stay outside and enjoy the afternoon.
Sort of how she’d insisted she do the laundry that morning without help. And cleaned the kitchen last night after their snack without help.
Day two, and already Emma wondered if her welcome was fading. That was her mom, though, especially since she became a widow—routine, routine, routine. And Emma wasn’t fitting inside it. Maybe that answered her question about Thanksgiving.
She sighed. Could they really make this last a month without driving each other crazy? They had a temporary routine figured out when Mom visited them in Dallas. Everyone had their own room, their own space. They kept a busy schedule so they wouldn’t be on top of each other all day. Home, however, was a different story.
Did she really just think of Broken Bend as home?
She didn’t want to go there.
Emma tilted her face to the sunlight streaming across her lap and released a deep breath, trying to erase the tension of the past forty-eight-plus hours. The verdict at court. Seeing Max, leaving Cody. The secrets, the burden. She still had to figure out what to tell Max, and when.
Later looked pretty appealing.
She closed her eyes, letting the warmth of the October afternoon sink into her skin. This entire situation left a bad taste in her mouth, and it had nothing to do with the fact her mom had used a little too much mayo in the salad. Her past had caught up to her—and not only caught up, but taken over. She had to deal with it. But what was best for Cody right now?
Tires crunched gravel and she opened her eyes to see a red, extended cab truck pulling into the drive. She squinted at the driver, drenched in shadows as he exited the vehicle. Surely