The Rancher's Secret Son. Betsy Amant St.

felt like an insurmountable wall, and for a long moment, Emma considered turning and leaving. She swallowed the dismay bubbling in her stomach and worked to keep back the familiar tears of failure. Dinner might be almost ready, but she already felt as if she’d been chewed up and spit out.

      But no. This was her chance. The girls were baiting her, testing her. Especially Stacy, who already demonstrated leadership influence on the other girls by being the oldest in the camp. If she let them pull rank now, the next month would be torture on her—and useless for them. They’d all lose.

      She shoved aside the personal barb and followed the girls inside, briefly wondering where Faith was and why the girls were even walking around the ranch alone in the first place. Was that against the rules? She’d have to ask Max. So much she didn’t know.

      But she knew how to handle this.

      Her heavy footsteps brought all three girls’ heads up. Stacy, where she perched on the edge of her bed changing her shoes; Tonya, where she examined her complexion in the room’s only full-length mirror; and Katie, who rummaged through her top dresser drawer.

      Emma took advantage of their surprise and squared her shoulders. “Here’s how it’s going to be.” She lifted her chin and crossed her arms, purposefully coming across defensive in her body language. First step, lay down the rules. Set the standard. “I’m in charge here, whether you girls like it or not, and whether you think I deserve to be or not. That’s not your decision to make, it’s Max’s. And it’s been made.”

      She drew a breath, maintaining eye contact with them all, especially Stacy, whom she had the farthest to go to reach. Second step, initiate heart. “We can do this the easy way or the hard way. Personally, I’d like to have fun with you girls. I’m not here to braid hair and paint fingernails and be your best friend. But I really don’t want to be a dictator, either.”