Page 33 of Captivated (Salvation #3)

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Nate smiled. “I don’t ever remember being so hungry. Must have been all the exercise.”

Zeeb almost snorted coffee out his nose. “Excuse me? Who was doin’ all the hammering? Hm? Oh yeah, that was me. You , on the other hand, held the pliers.”

The bunkhouse was empty, the way it usually was in the middle of the day. Teague and Walt had taken the guests out to look at the herd—it seemed they’d gotten a taste for it the other night—which meant they’d be back around supper time.

Zeeb was thankful for their absence. All through breakfast he’d been aware of glances in his direction. Nah, in both their directions, as if they were waiting for something to happen between him and Nate.

Like what?

Something had been nagging away at him all morning, but each time he thought he’d gotten close, it slipped away from him.

And suddenly it was there.

Zeeb picked up his phone and pulled up Google. “What did you say the name of that place was? In Oregon, right?”

Nate frowned. “Sanctuary Hill. Why do you want to know?”

Zeeb typed the name, then scrolled. He blinked.

“Dave was right. They passed a bill in Oregon in 2015, makin’ it illegal for licensed counselors and therapists to practice conversion therapy on minors.

That must’ve been a couple of years after you ran away, right?

” Nate nodded, and Zeeb returned his attention to the screen.

“And now they’re puttin’ forward a bill to ban it for people of all ages. ”

Nate snorted. “You mean Sanctuary Hill will go out of business? My heart bleeds for them. Except I’m sure Mr. Thomas will find himself a new job in a state that hasn’t banned it yet.”

Zeeb stared at the article and burst out laughing.

“What’s so funny?”

“The camp is already closed. Seems a couple of the ‘counselors’ were caught doing naughty things with each other. One guy’s wife caught them at it, and one of the kids discovered the other one.” He grinned. “Well, whaddaya know about that? One of the counselors was a certain Mr. Lyle Thomas.”

Nate gaped at him for a second, and Zeeb couldn’t gauge his reaction. Finally, he spoke.

“Well, that figures. I can see it now. ‘Tell us what you’ve done, what you’ve thought, what you’ve imagined,’ he used to say. I’ll bet as soon as the session was over, he’d run back to his room and jack off.”

Zeeb put his phone down. “You okay?”

“Trying not to think about it, if I’m honest. Because if I do, I’ll only get angry, and I don’t want to spend the rest of today pissed off.”

“I’ll have to keep you occupied, that’s all.” He grinned. “And I know just how to do it.” He pushed his chair back and stood. “Let’s go.”

“Go where? Is it a secret?” Nate grabbed his hat.

Zeeb led the way to the stable, Nate at his side. He stepped into the light, airy space and sniffed.

“I love that smell,” he murmured. He knew Paul wouldn’t be there: he’d taken the horse trailer, and he and Butch had gone to pick up the new pony.

Zeeb went over to one of the stalls where a pitchfork leaned against the wall.

He grabbed it and held it out to Nate. “You ever muck out a stall before?”

“No.” Nate eyed the tool as if he feared it might attack him. “But I’ve been accused of talking shit, so I figure I’m halfway qualified.”

Zeeb laughed. “It ain’t brain surgery, that’s for sure. Just be prepared for an aching back by the time we’re done.”

Nate walked over to the stall where Lightning stood, his nose over the gate, greeting Nate with a soft whinny. “How do we start?”

“By removing the horse.” Zeeb opened the gate and went inside. “Hey there, beauty. You want us to give you some nice clean bedding?”

Nate chuckled. “If he says, ‘Yes please, Zeeb,’ I’m out of here.”

Zeeb led Lightning into the main area, and tethered him to a post. “Okay, take your pitchfork an’ remove all the manure and soiled bedding.

Leave any that’s still clean. Then take all the shit out, using that wheelbarrow.

” He pointed to it. “The next thing is to sweep the stall clean of dust, cobwebs, and whatever else that don’t belong in there, then check it for any hazards. ”

“Like what?”

“Protrudin’ nails, for one. When that’s done, add fresh bedding, and you’re finished. One horse, ready to go back into its stall.” Zeeb grinned. “And then it’s a case of rinse ‘n’ repeat.” He beamed. “You wanna do your own stall or work with me?”

“I’d rather work with you.”

Zeeb shrugged. “I’m easy.”

“That’s what Teague said,” Nate said in a teasing tone.

He gave Nate a mock glare, then pointed to the stall. “Just for that, you get to shovel the first load of horse shit.”

He’d done the right thing and presented Nate with a choice. Happily for Zeeb, it was the one he’d have chosen too.

He tried not to think about Saturday. He had a feeling Nate was going to leave a big hole in his life.

And since when does that happen when a guest leaves? They came and went, some leaving happy or enjoyable memories. Zeeb had to be honest: he couldn’t describe Nate’s stay as enjoyable.

It was a much more visceral reaction than that.

They worked side by side, the rhythm steady, the air filled with the soft rustle of straw and occasional muttered curses when Nate jabbed himself in the foot with his pitchfork. Zeeb had nailed it about the aching back: Nate was already feeling it.

After the third stall, he straightened, then rested his weight on the fork handle.

“This doesn’t suck.”

Zeeb raised his eyebrow. “Is that what counts for praise? I’m overwhelmed.”

“I mean it.” Nate paused, gazing at his surroundings. “There’s something about it. It’s real. No expectations. Just… this.”

“Yeah.” Zeeb’s voice was low. “That’s kinda the point.”

Nate looked at him then. Really looked. Zeeb went back to forking manure into the wheelbarrow.

Before he could stop himself, Nate blurted, “Did you ever lose someone’s trust? Like… really lose it?”

Zeeb’s expression didn’t change, but something in his eyes flickered. “Yeah. Once. Took me a long time to forgive myself for it.”

Nate cocked his head. “Did they ever forgive you?”

“No.” Zeeb’s face contorted. “But someone else did.” He continued with his task, only his back was stiffer, and he avoided Nate’s gaze.

“I’m sorry,” Nate whispered.

It was Zeeb’s turn to straighten. He put down his pitchfork, stretched, and arched his back. “Time for a break, I reckon.” He pointed to the thermos he’d brought from the bunkhouse. “How about we spread a blanket over those bales of hay, and sit a spell while we drink our coffee?”

Nate bit his lip. “I was hoping you’d say that. My back is starting to complain.”

“Then let’s give it a rest for a while.” Zeeb grabbed one of the blankets they used to cover the horses and shook it out over a large bale. They sat, and Zeeb poured coffee into two tin cups. He handed one to Nate, then drank from his own, staring at the far wall of the stable.

Soft light filtered through the upper windows, golden and slow, warming the space with the kind of hush usually reserved for cathedrals, broken only by the low noises of the horses now and then.

Nate sighed. “I am sorry.”

Zeeb turned to face him. “You ain’t got nothing to be sorry about. You touched a nerve, that’s all.”

“Is it something you can talk about?”

Zeeb huffed. “ Talk about it? Dude, I haven’t even thought about it for years.

More than twenty years, if you wanna know the truth.

” He took another drink, then expelled a long sigh.

“When I was nineteen, about a year after I’d left Idaho, I found work on a mid-sized cattle ranch in Wyoming.

It was a rough place, not cruel, mind you, but hard-edged, with long hours and no room for softness.

The ranch owner’s son, Eli, was around my age.

” Zeeb shook his head. “Eli was sharp-tongued and wild, but he had something about him that made people… gravitate toward him, I guess you’d say, circle him, like he was the sun an’ they were orbiting planets, if that makes any sense. ”

Nate smiled. “I think it paints a very accurate picture. And what I’d expect from someone who wanted to write stories.”

Zeeb chuckled. “Quit that. You’re makin’ me blush. Anyhow, I kept my distance at first, but then Eli noticed me.”

“What made you aware of it?”

“It started as teasing. Then I guess you’d call it camaraderie.” His face tightened. “And then it became something else.” Another sip.

“We don’t have to talk about it. Not if it makes you uncomfortable.”

Zeeb sighed again. “Actually, I think it’s best if I keep workin’ on this burr.

Needs to come out. It’s been stuck there too long.

” He took a breath. “There were… moments. Nothing huge. A hand brushing too long, a lingering look over the fire, that kinda thing. Drunken confessions that meant more than either of us would admit in daylight. And we never kissed, never crossed the line physically, but oh my Lord , the tension. And it was mutual.”

“What happened?” Nate asked, his voice soft.

“One night, Eli pushed it too far. He grabbed me behind the barn. He was grinning, whisperin’ things that weren’t jokes anymore.

” Zeeb shivered. “An’ I froze.” He met Nate’s gaze, his eyes wide.

“Don’t get me wrong, I wanted it. God , I wanted it, but fear hit me like a whip.

” He swallowed. “I shoved Eli away, hard. Called him something ugly. Something I’d heard thrown at me back in Idaho.

Eli’s face cracked, an’ there was hurt in his eyes, but mostly what I saw there was betrayal.

He walked away and never looked at me again. ”

Nate covered Zeeb’s large hand with his own.

“The next morning, I found my things packed. Eli’s daddy fired me on the spot, saying they didn’t need ‘drama,’” he air-quoted.

“I knew Eli hadn’t said anything. That was the worst part.

Eli hadn’t thrown me under the bus. I’d done all the damage myself.

” He stared into his cup. “I carried that guilt for years . Not for turning down Eli, no sir, but for the way I’d done it.

For being so scared of being seen. I hurt someone who didn’t deserve it.

It wasn’t just a missed opportunity. It was a betrayal of something honest between us. ”

“What did you do?”

He snorted. “I buried it, that’s what. I kept on the move, working ranch after ranch. I dated women, trying to make that part of myself disappear.”

Nate gave a half smile. “Yeah, and I can see that worked out really well for you.”

Zeeb chuckled. “You’re right. It never disappeared, just found a hiding place an’ stayed there.

It wasn’t until years later, at another job, that I worked under an older ranch manager named Clint.

He was a good man, quiet and kind, an’ he took an interest in me not for what I hid, but for how hard I worked.

” Zeeb smiled. “One day Clint caught me staring a little too long at a cowboy who came through with feedstock. I expected the worst. Instead, Clint simply said, ‘Ain’t no shame in wantin’ what you want.

Just don’t lie to yourself forever.’” Another hard swallow.

“It wasn’t forgiveness from Eli, but it was something.

I guess it opened me up a crack, enough to stop hating that part of myself.

” He gave Nate a sad smile. “So to answer your question, the person I hurt was Eli. The person who forgave me—not for what I did, but for who I was—was Clint.”

Nate squeezed his hand. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

He smiled. “Trusting me. Letting me in.” He removed his hand, although he’d have been happy to leave it there a while longer.

Lightning tossed his head, and Nate laughed. “Did you bring apples for the horses?”

Zeeb snorted. “For all these? Are you kidding? We ain’t got a hoard of ’em stashed in the kitchen.” He flushed, and cleared his throat. “But I might’ve brought a couple. For my favorites.”

Nate couldn’t help smiling. “You have favorites? Which ones?”

Zeeb pointed to Lightning. “This ole boy. Lucy. Bailey.” He gazed affectionately at the chestnut horse.

“I like Bailey too,” Nate admitted. “He’s so calm.”

“He’s had years to learn calm. It didn’t come natural. Some horses are like that, jumpy at first, then solid once they find someone they trust.”

Nate gazed at him. “You think I’m like that too.”

Zeeb held his gaze. “I know you are.” He didn’t look away, and neither did Nate, until his heartbeat got loud enough to make him wonder if Zeeb could hear it too. The space between them suddenly felt too small.

Zeeb broke the silence first. He reached into the bag he’d brought from the kitchen, then held out an apple. “Here. Go give Bailey a treat, and then we’ll get back to our mucking out.” He flashed Nate a quick smile. “We’ll have a nice surprise for Paul when he gets back.”

Nate took the apple and stood, his pulse still rapid as he walked over to Bailey’s stall.

Zeeb had said he’d feared being seen.

Nate knew exactly how he felt.