Page 65 of Captivated (Salvation #3)

Chapter Fifty-Four

“That’s it,” Zeeb whispered. “Yeah, keep doing that.” His voice was husky even to his own ears. Watching Nate like this was almost as good as sex.

Almost.

Nate stood in the middle of the paddock, his back toward Butterscotch, ignoring him. All the hands stood at the fence, arms resting on it, watching as the pony moved closer to Nate. Every time Butterscotch got within a few feet of him and stepped in front of him, Nate would turn away.

The pony looked a damn sight better than he had a month ago, but then again, they’d been at this same point several times.

All we need now is a breakthrough.

“Walk toward me,” Paul said to Nate in a low voice. “Don’t look back.”

Nate strolled over to the fence, and the hairs on Zeeb’s arms stood up when Butterscotch followed.

“You’re doin’ it,” he whispered urgently.

Nate stood, his back straight, his breathing shallow. Then Butterscotch lowered his head and bumped Nate’s hand with his nose.

Zeeb beamed. “Attaboy, Nate. Don’t cave now.”

Nate ignored the pony’s attempt, moving along the fence toward the gate.

Butterscotch followed.

He kept on strolling.

Butterscotch kept following.

When he pushed his nose into Nate’s hand a second time, Nate held out the apple he’d been carrying.

“You want this?”

The pony took it, and Nate didn’t move until it was all gone. Zeeb held his breath.

Go on, Nate. You gotta try.

Nate brought his hand up slowly, so slowly, and while Butterscotch stood still, he didn’t flinch or react. When Nate finally stroked the pony’s nose, Zeeb heard the catch in everyone’s breath.

It was a start.

Nate smiled. “Hello there, Butterscotch,” he said in a low, even voice. “Hey, boy.”

Paul’s face was one huge smile. “You did good, Nate.”

“Yes, he did, but the show’s over,” Teague said quietly.

“We’ve said goodbye to one set of guests, and the new ones arrive in a couple of hours, so get moving, guys.

And that means stripping the bunks in the bunkhouse, setting up the bedrooms in the Leather Barn, checking towels, soap, you know the drill. ”

The hands didn’t grumble, but trudged in the direction of the bunkhouse.

Teague smiled at Nate. “Looks like you’ve got a new friend.”

Nate’s face glowed in the reflected light. “Yeah.”

“I’d say one day you’ll get to ride him, but he’s a little on the small side for that,” Paul said as he led Butterscotch toward the stable. “What matters is helping him live without fear, knowing he’s loved. We’re not there yet, but we will be.” Teague followed him.

Nate stepped through the gate and Zeeb gave him a hug.

“That was awesome.” He pressed his cheek to Nate’s. “Love you,” he whispered.

“You know I’m never going to get tired of hearing that, don’t you?”

Zeeb smiled. “Good, cuz I’ll never get tired of sayin’ it.” He released Nate from his one-armed hug. “What time does your dad get in?”

“I don’t know.” Nate grinned. “Let me consult my brand-new phone that someone bought for me.” He removed it from his jeans pocket, tapped the screen, and scrolled.

“Well, you couldn’t get by without one, could you?” Nate’s cry of delight when he’d opened the box had warmed Zeeb’s heart. Then he found contacts had already been added, and Zeeb was rewarded with a kiss.

Which had quickly morphed into something a lot hotter.

Love makes sex so much better. A nd Zeeb had a feeling they’d only gotten started.

Nate smiled. “He left the house at seven, so he could be here any time after three.” He inclined his head toward the bunkhouse. “We should go help the guys.”

Zeeb huffed. “You can help strip the bunks—I’ll tidy. Well, as much as I can.”

Nate kissed the tip of his nose. “You can offer moral support.”

He rolled his eyes. “Sure. Because makin’ beds is such a stressful job.”

When they entered the bunkhouse, Zeeb noticed the change in atmosphere instantly. The quiet that pervaded the space made his scalp prickle.

“Whassup?”

Matt pointed to Walt, who sat at the table, frowning. “He just got a call from Donna. You know, the girl who works at the post office in Bozeman?”

“Sure, I know Donna.” Zeeb gave Walt an inquiring glance. “What did she have to say for herself?”

“I asked her to keep her ear to the ground, you know, to see if she could find out anything about the attack on you an’ Toby.” Walt gave Teague a nod. “An’ y’all need to hear this.”

“What did she need to know?” Matt retorted. “They’re a bunch of hating assholes.”

Walt arched his eyebrows. “And they just decided one morning they were going to beat up a couple of guys from the ranch? If they planned this—and that’s the way it looks—then maybe they had a reason.

” He scowled. “ Apart from being hatin’ bigoted assholes.

Well, Donna did some digging—and she uncovered a few things. ”

“Such as what?” Nate joined Walt at the table.

Walt scraped his fingers through his hair. “Did you know the town is struggling financially?”

Teague snorted. “Everyone knows that. Been going on for a couple of years now. But what does that have to do with anything?”

“Well, word had gotten around that Salvation is attracting outsiders who don’t contribute a bean to the ‘real’ economy,” Walt air-quoted.

Teague guffawed. “Yeah, right. Where do they think we buy our feed from? Our supplies? There has to be quite a bit of money from the ranch flowing through their coffers, only those dickheads are too dumb to work that out.”

“And three or four of those guys who were arrested had been laid off recently. Put that together, an’ what’ve you got?

Frustration, a shitload of conspiracy theories buzzin’ around in a social media echo chamber…

” Walt’s brows furrowed. “Those guys weren’t lashing out at Toby and Zeeb specifically, but at what they represent—a whole lot of urban, queer, kinky outsiders ‘taking over’ their town.

Which is bullshit, but Donna might have nailed it. ”

“I’ve been thinkin’ about this. There could be another reason,” Butch said, frowning. “Any of you heard of this new preacher who came to Bozeman maybe three months ago?”

Matt guffawed. “And when was the last time any of us set foot in a church?”

“What about him?” Zeeb asked.

“Just rumors,” Butch said with a shrug. “I don’t know his name—and I haven’t been bothered enough to find out—but it seems he’s been preaching some fiery sermons about ‘cleansing the town’ of sin and ‘perverse influences.’”

Teague scowled. “Three guesses who he’s painting as those influences.”

Butch nodded. “The thing is, it sounds like he’s portraying this as a holy war. Maybe some of those guys took him literally. The preacher painted a target on Toby’s and Zeeb’s back. He could’ve made them out to be enemies in whatever black and white world these assholes live in.”

Teague coughed. “And speaking of rumors… Did you know one of the ranch hands was involved in an assault on a minor?”

There was an explosion of noise.

“Like fuck. Never happened.”

“What kind of bullshit is this?”

“Who are they naming as their suspect?”

Teague held his hands up. “I only heard about this yesterday, from Robert. He had a call from the Sheriff—who, by the way, knows it’s bullshit—who wanted to give him a heads up. He’d sat on it for maybe a month or two.”

“They’ve made it up,” Walt protested.

Teague rolled his eyes. “Of course they made it up. But then they spread the rumor, and no one makes any effort to fact-check it. They see the Sheriff doing nothing, so they decide to take the law into their own hands.” He gave Zeeb a sympathetic glance.

“I would’ve said you and Toby were just in the wrong place at the wrong time, except that’s hogwash because we know they planned this.

Those morons thought they were handing out justice.

What they really did was be someone’s pawns. ”

A phone buzzed.

Walt glanced at his. “Hey, Donna says to check out the news on Channel 6.” He grabbed the remote and aimed it at the TV. Seven faces filled the screen, and across the bottom a rolling banner screamed Post Office Horror Attack: Seven Men Arrested After Assaulting Gay Couple.

“Motherfucker,” Zeeb growled. “It’s only makin’ the news now ? This was twelve days ago. And gay couple ? Don’t they bother to check?”

“Course not,” Butch commented. “Why let the truth get in the way of a good story?”

Matt leaned in, his gaze narrowed. “Wait a sec.” He walked over to the TV and stabbed a finger at the screen. “I know that guy!”

“You probably saw him in town. They all drink at the bar,” Walt remarked.

Matt snorted. “Yeah, but none of the others sucked my dick.”

Zeeb gaped. “What the fuck? When was this?”

“About six months ago. I’d gone for a drink—and whatever else came my way.

He was sitting in the bar with his buddies, drinking one shot after another.

The bartender cut him off, he got belligerent, and they kicked him out.

He made an awful lot of noise when he left, slamming the door, yelling…

Then when I called it a night, I found him stumbling down the road.

The way he was weaving he never would have made it.

Didn’t want him dying, so I pulled over and offered him a ride. ”

“Aw, no,” Zeeb exclaimed. “Tell me you didn’t let him blow you when he was drunk.”

Matt’s eyebrows shot up. “What? Fuck no. I know all about consent, man. I took him to his place, and he passed out in my truck. I helped him get into his apartment, and he was getting all handsy. So I pushed him into the bedroom, got him on the bed, and told him to sleep it off.” He shook his head.

“Guy cupped his limp dick and asked me to get in bed with him. I said no. Then he ran to the bathroom and puked. I helped him get cleaned up and put him back into bed. It was about one in the morning, so I decided to crash on his chair in case he got sick again.”

“Then what happened?” Teague demanded.