Page 7 of Captivated (Salvation #3)
Chapter Seven
Nate typed a short message to Zeeb. Finished breakfast.
A moment later, Zeeb pinged back. Great. I’ll be with you soon.
Nate’s heartbeat raced. He wasn’t sure why he was nervous. All he was going to do was meet some horses, for God’s sake.
At the stables. Where there’d be more people.
There were times when Nate wanted to confront the doctors, the ‘therapists’, all those bastards who’d left him with a pervasive sense of shame and self-loathing, who’d reduced him to a shell of his former self, emotionally numb and distrustful of others.
As for what he’d do to them if he ever saw them again?
He was making a list, trying to keep the things that wouldn’t have him sent to prison at the top of it.
Nate sat on the couch, his hands a little clammy.
Breathe. It’s going to be okay.
Except he didn’t know that for sure.
He couldn’t sit still anymore. He grabbed his jacket, then changed his mind. He wouldn’t need it, according to the forecast. He’d stuffed his sketch pad and pencils into his bag. If he needed his easel, it was in the trunk of his car.
I’ve never been within three feet of a horse. This could be a disaster.
Footsteps on the porch.
This was it.
Nate opened the door, then remembered the bag that had contained his breakfast. He picked it up and handed it to Zeeb. “That was amazing.” What surprised Nate was how calm he managed to sound.
Zeeb beamed. “That Matt sure can cook.” He cocked his head. “You ready?”
“As I’ll ever be.” Nate flushed. “I’ve never been up-close and personal with a horse before. And compared to me, they’re huge.”
Zeeb smiled, and Nate noted with relief that there was no sign he thought it weird or funny Nate and horses hadn’t mixed before.
“We’ll take it slow, okay? And no one’s gonna put you on a horse if you don’t wanna, all right?”
Nate breathed a little easier. The logical part of his brain already knew how things would be, but hearing the words again somehow reinforced the knowledge.
“Okay.” He smiled, even though his heart wasn’t fully in it. “Let’s go see these horses.”
Zeeb’s beaming smile told Nate he’d said the right thing.
The stable was warm, the scent of leather and fresh hay wrapping around them. Horses stirred in their stalls, a few poking their heads over the wooden doors to inspect the newcomers. Zeeb paused by the closest stall, where a chestnut mare stood quietly.
“This here is Lucy,” he said, giving the horse a gentle pat on the neck. “She’s a sweetheart. Good listener too.”
Nate hovered a few feet away, his posture stiff. “I don’t know much about horses,” he admitted, his voice soft enough that Zeeb had to lean in to hear.
“That’s okay,” Zeeb said easily. “You don’t need to know much to start. Just gotta be patient. They got a way of knowing what you need, even when you don’t.”
Nate didn’t respond, but his gaze softened as it lingered on Lucy. Zeeb caught the faintest trace of longing there, a need for connection buried under layers of wariness.
“You wanna say hi?” he offered, his voice quieter, more careful.
Nate hesitated, then stepped forward, his movements tentative as he reached out, the tips of his fingers brushing Lucy’s velvety nose. The horse huffed a warm breath against his hand, and something in Nate’s posture eased just a little.
Zeeb stayed quiet, letting the moment stretch. He knew better than to push. Nate was like a spooked colt—one wrong move, and he’d bolt. Still, there was something about the way Nate stood there, looking so lost, that made Zeeb want to stick around, to figure out the story behind those guarded eyes.
“She likes you,” Zeeb said in a soft voice, watching as Nate ran a hand down Lucy’s flank.
Nate huffed a bitter laugh. “Guess that makes one of us.”
Zeeb frowned but didn’t press. Whatever weight Nate carried, it wasn’t something that would lift anytime soon. But Zeeb wasn’t the kind to scare off at the first sign of trouble. If there was more to Nate Caldwell than his sharp edges and closed-off stares, Zeeb was curious enough to find out.
“Well, lucky for you, Lucy’s a good judge of character.” Zeeb flashed a grin. “And me? I don’t scare easy.”
Nate didn’t smile back, but he didn’t pull away either. And for now, Zeeb figured that was a start.
“Can I go outside?” Nate asked.
“Sure. I’ll show you the paddock. We might even see Paul out there. There ain’t nothing that man can’t do with a horse.” Zeeb’s eyes twinkled. “Except maybe teach it to tango. And I’m not even sure about that.”
Hot damn, that was almost a smile.
Zeeb had found a crack in Nate’s armor, and he was going to do his best to widen it a little.
Nate heard the sound of hooves long before he saw them, steady, rhythmic, like a heartbeat in the distance.
As he approached the paddock, he saw a figure, tall and slim, silhouetted against the morning sun.
Nate had no idea of his age, but he wore his long black hair tied back in a loose ponytail.
He was leading a large, chestnut-colored horse with a calm, steady gait, walking in circles along the paddock’s perimeter.
The horse’s coat gleamed in the morning light, and Nate felt a strange pull toward it.
“Ah, you must be Nate,” the man called out, his voice low and steady, like the sound of the wind through tall grass. “I’m Paul Stormcloud. Welcome to the ranch.”
Nate gave a stiff nod, unsure of what to say. He glanced at the horse again, his throat tightening as a vague, unfamiliar feeling settled in his chest. The animal was massive, its muscles rippling under its sleek coat, and yet it moved with a grace and gentleness that belied its size.
“This here’s Sorrel,” Paul continued, giving the horse a gentle pat on the neck. The horse’s dark eyes regarded Nate with an almost knowing expression, as if sizing him up.
Nate hesitated. He wasn’t sure if he was more wary of the horse or Paul.
Zeeb strolled over to join him. “I see you two have met.” He glanced at Nate. “Everything okay?”
Nate knew Zeeb was checking to see if Nate was comfortable having Paul around.
He did a quick assessment. Paul exuded calm. It rolled off him in a gentle wave, and Nate could almost feel it settling on his shoulders like a soft blanket.
“Yeah,” he said with a smile. “Everything’s fine.”
Well, almost.
“Would you like to lead Sorrel around the paddock?” Zeeb asked.
Paul gave him an inquiring glance.
Nate’s heart pounded.
“Is it okay if I just watch?”
Paul’s smile was warm. “Of course. Take your time. You’re in no rush here.”
Nate lingered by the fence, keeping a safe distance. He felt exposed, surrounded by nothing but open air and the feeling of being so painfully out of place. He loved the way Paul moved, so sure, so at ease with the horse and the land. It made Nate uncomfortable, and he couldn’t pinpoint why.
Is it because I’ve never felt that at ease my whole life?
Paul let the horse walk, leading it in slow, deliberate circles. The rhythm of the hooves against the ground was soothing, a sound that settled into the back of Nate’s mind and made him forget, for a moment, the constant hum of anxiety and the tightness in his chest.
Beside him, Zeeb didn’t utter a sound, and Nate was grateful for the quiet.
After a few minutes, Paul brought Sorrel to stand a few feet away.
He stroked the horse’s mane. “Horses are special animals. They’re sensitive.
They can pick up on your emotions—your fear, your anger, your uncertainty.
But they can also sense kindness. And when you show them respect, they’ll give you that same respect back.
” He paused, his gaze focused on Nate. “It’s all about trust.”
Nate’s brow furrowed. That last word felt foreign in his mouth, like a language he’d forgotten how to speak. I used to trust people . But then he reached the age of nine, and his world had shattered.
And right then, he wanted to trust Sorrel.
“How do I…?” Nate’s voice trailed off. He didn’t know what to ask, didn’t know where to start.
Paul nodded, as though he’d understood the unfinished question. “I’ll show you how to approach them. But remember, it’s not about forcing anything. It’s about being present, being calm. Horses don’t respond well to tension or aggression. They respond to softness, to consistency.”
Nate watched as Paul led Sorrel to a small wooden post at the edge of the paddock. He gestured for Nate to come closer, the invitation clear but gentle.
“You want to give them space at first,” Paul said, his voice steady and even. “Let them come to you. Let them decide you’re not a threat.”
Nate didn’t move at first. The idea of an animal deciding whether he was safe felt absurd, but there was something in Paul’s tone that made him hesitate, something that made him want to listen.
Paul smiled again, this time with the same warmth he’d shown earlier. “Go ahead. Sorrel won’t bite.”
Nate’s hands trembled slightly as he took a step forward, his feet dragging in the dirt. The closer he got, the more his heart hammered as if the proximity of the horse brought something primal to the surface.
Sorrel stood still, his head lowered, his ears flicking in Nate’s direction. For a long moment, they stared at each other, the horse’s gaze calm and unwavering, while Nate felt his stomach churn, his nerves knotting in his gut.
“Just breathe,” Paul advised in a soft voice, watching from the side. “In through your nose, out through your mouth.”
Nate obeyed, taking a slow, steady breath, willing himself to stay calm.
The tension in his body was palpable, but he tried to ignore it, focusing on the quiet rhythm of his breathing.
He took another step, then another, until he was close enough to feel the warmth of Sorrel’s coat radiating in the cooler morning air.
Hesitantly, Nate reached out. His fingers brushed against the horse’s shoulder, and for a moment, the world seemed to pause.
The horse didn’t flinch, didn’t pull away.
Instead, Sorrel leaned into the touch, his muscles relaxing beneath Nate’s hand.
It was subtle, almost imperceptible, but it was enough.
Nate’s chest tightened again, but this time it was different. The ache wasn’t as sharp, and he wasn’t as afraid. The connection, small though it was, felt like something real, something that hadn’t been forced.
It felt like… trust.
Paul watched without a sound, and Nate knew he was allowing the moment to unfold at its own pace.
“You’re doing great,” he said after a long pause, his voice low and even. “It’s not about rushing. Just let it happen.”
Nate nodded, his hand lingering on Sorrel’s shoulder, his heartbeat gradually slowing as he felt the horse’s steady warmth against his palm.
It wasn’t a magical cure, and he wasn’t suddenly healed, but for the first time in what felt like forever, Nate felt a small spark of something else, not anger, shame, or fear.
It was the beginning of something he wasn’t sure he understood yet, but despite his feelings of trepidation, Nate didn’t mind the uncertainty.
Maybe this wasn’t such a ridiculous idea after all.