Betsy St. Amant - The Rancher's Secret Son

The other nine campers, three girls and six boys, had arrived and checked in half an hour before and were being given a brief tour by the live-in counselors, Luke and Nicole Erickson. He’d noticed the increasing size of Nicole’s stomach beneath her maternity top earlier and had raised an eyebrow at Luke, who’d assured him she wasn’t due for another month. Just in time to finish this camp. Then he’d have to find a replacement for her while she took maternity leave.

The stress of that significant problem suddenly dimmed compared to the throbbing in his temples at Emma’s proximity. He slipped behind the desk to give himself space, trying to ignore the way his heart pounded under his work shirt like a runaway horse.

“Here we are. Cody Shaver.” He ran his finger over the printed name and made a check mark in the column—and a mental note not to let Nicole handle the precamp paperwork anymore. If he’d seen Emma’s name as Cody’s guardian on his forms earlier, he’d have had a heads-up. All he personally received was the list of the kids’ names two weeks prior to camp, so he could pray for them.

Then again, the odds of another ex-girlfriend popping up seemed a little slim.

“Is there a problem?” Emma’s voice sounded as strained as the muscles in his neck as he jerked his head up to look at her, realizing he’d been staring at the document for far longer than he should have. Emma Shaver. Wow. When did she have a son? How old was Cody? He’d have to check the full file later. But apparently Emma hadn’t wasted a lot of time pining over Max after leaving for college.

Though she was supposed to have come back.

The thought burned his stomach and he licked his suddenly dry lips. “No, there’s no problem. No problem at all.” The past was the past. The important part now was that Cody was here, and he needed help—regardless of who his mother was. Max had to get his priorities in order, quick, or he’d do more harm than good. These kids counted on him, and he wouldn’t let them—or God—down.

Not again.

He found his warmest smile, despite the cold expression in Emma’s eyes attempting to freeze his heart. “Welcome to Camp Hope, Cody. It’s going to be a great month.”

The kid grunted, as if he didn’t believe him. Emma didn’t look as if she particularly believed him, either.

Which was fine, because at the moment, he didn’t fully believe himself.

Chapter Two

Luke led the tour of the campus, the scripted words falling naturally from his mouth. Good thing, because Max was having a terrible time paying attention.

As they crossed the worn path from the dorms to the barn, Max glanced up at the white letters painted on the rustic red sign, hanging ten feet above the cattle guard at the end of his long gravel driveway. Camp Hope. He’d painted the sign himself last year, acquired three splinters trying to hang the thing and almost toppled off the ladder on his way back down. But nothing worth doing was easy, the main point he was trying to prove at his ranch for troubled teens.

He knew—he’d been one.

He shuffled behind the group of nervous parents and disgruntled teens as Luke led them into the barn, trying not to let his gaze keep resting on Emma. But that was a little like trying not to glance at a lit candle while standing in a pitch-black room.

God, a little direction here? I’m lost. Max was confident he’d followed the Lord’s guiding when he opened Camp Hope over a year ago and received the training necessary to minister to teenagers. He’d already watched almost seventy teens graduate the month-long program, many of whom had come to know God in the process. For a lot of them, Camp Hope was the last stop before juvenile detention, or worse. Max knew how to smell contraband cigarette smoke a mile away, knew the current gang loyalty colors, and now, after trial and error, knew the vents in the dorm could be pried open and made into a hiding spot.

He just didn’t know how to look at Emma Shaver without bursting into flame.

Max rested his back against the door frame of the barn and inhaled the comforting aroma of horses. One by one, the teens perked up as Luke went over the rules of horsemanship and what chores would be expected of them in the stables. Funny how they’d give endless grief over making their beds, but most had no trouble shoveling manure or grooming a colt. Something about horses reached deep inside and brought out the good in folks.

A stirring of anticipation returned, and Max fought to hold on to it. He’d been so excited about this particular camp a few weeks ago as the planning process wrapped up. Somehow, he just knew this session would be the best one yet. He felt it in his spirit during his morning Bible readings in the sunroom, heard it in the excitement in his own voice when he shared his plans with his best friend and former boss, Brady McCollough.

Brady had just slapped his hat against his leg to free it of dirt, and heartily agreed. He could feel it, too, and Max trusted his friend’s judgment. Brady lived several miles down the road, but the back of their two properties joined at a barbed wire fence. Max had saved for years to be able to buy one hundred acres near his friend and finally start his own spread. Brady’s wife, Caley, said he and Brady argued more than an old married couple, but that was just because they knew each other so well and remained friends anyway. Max had been there for Brady through the tragic death of his first wife, while Brady had been responsible for hauling Max out of the muck and into a church pew. If Brady felt that same prompting, Max could bank on it.

It was just that so far, he didn’t have a clue how Emma Shaver and her kid showing up at his camp could possibly be a God thing. Maybe more like a cosmic joke.

Brady would definitely get a kick out of this one. Would probably rattle something off about God working in mysterious ways. Max usually agreed—but this went a little beyond mysterious. Still, he’d do his best to help Cody like he would any other teen there, and thankfully would have little to do with Emma. After all, it wasn’t Cody’s fault Max knew his mom from another lifetime ago. He refused to let that fact filter through in any of his interactions with Cody. Another month and Emma would be right back out of his life forever.

Apparently like she’d always wanted.

“And that’s the tour.” Luke clapped his hands, jerking Max back to reality and causing two boys to jump. “Boss?”

His mind raced. He really had to get it together or he wouldn’t be a very good example. He took a deep breath and tried to center his head on anything other than Emma. Tour over. So, time for dinner. Then the inevitable parent-teen goodbyes, which was his least favorite part of the camp. He shot a glance at Emma. But today, that part might be a good thing.

He found his smile and gestured toward the main house. “Time for grub, everyone!”

A few teens murmured their pleasure; others kept their hollow expressions as they filed out of the barn and toward the house like a chain gang. Max fought a grin. The campers always started out the same, and with God’s grace, usually ended with an 180-degree change. Hopefully this session wouldn’t be an exception. It just took faith, perseverance—and a huge dose of patience.

He ended up at the back of the line, Luke in the lead, with Cody lagging in the middle. The humid Louisiana wind ruffled Max’s hair and loosened his sweaty shirt from his back. Late October still boasted afternoon temps in the seventies, though the nights and mornings were downright chilly. It was the perfect time of year for a camp—the summer sessions made everyone grumpy, and the ice storm that hit last January had holed them up inside for far too long. This would be the last session he offered until next year. He needed a break for the holidays, though he usually just crashed Brady and Caley’s Thanksgiving and Christmas celebrations.