Page 8 of Captivated (Salvation #3)
Chapter Eight
“Wanna learn how to groom him?” Zeeb watched for Nate’s reaction.
With this guy, what you see tells you more than what comes outta his mouth.
Nate hesitated, and Zeeb got ready to back-pedal. Nate’s shy smile took him by surprise. “Could we do it together?”
“Sure.” Zeeb peered at Paul. “That okay with you?”
“Of course. You know what you’re doing.”
Zeeb stepped through the gate and took Sorrel’s halter.
“We’ll take him into the stable. That’s where all the gear is.
” He led Sorrel, Nate walking on the other side of the horse, albeit a few feet away, as though he was maintaining a safe distance.
Inside the stable, Zeeb headed for the rear.
He pointed to the brushes and combs laid out.
“We use these to get rid of all the dirt, tangles, and burrs. Watch me, then you can give it a try.”
Inwardly he was dancing. Okay, he hadn’t expected some kinda miraculous reaction to the horses, but so far Nate was doing pretty good.
Zeeb picked up a brush, conscious of Nate’s intense scrutiny. Then he realized wherever Nate’s head was at, it wasn’t in the stable.
“You okay?”
Sorrel tossed his head, the whites of his eyes flashing as he shuffled in place.
Zeeb could feel the tension radiating off both of them.
Okay, maybe he’s not doing so good after all.
Nate didn’t understand why his mood had flipped. All he knew was he’d gone from feeling calm—and he couldn’t remember reaching that state so fast around strangers—to a state of nervous agitation.
Damn it, he was so sick of feeling this way.
“He can tell you’re scared.” Zeeb’s voice was easy, calm, like the ripple of a slow-moving stream. “Horses are like that. They mirror what you’re feeling.”
Nate didn’t look at him. His shoulders were drawn up, rigid, the fine tremor in his fingers betraying how hard he was working to keep himself under control. “I’m not scared,” he muttered.
He wasn’t scared. He was just wound up tighter than a two-dollar watch.
“Okay.” Zeeb stretched the word out easy and warm. He took a step toward Nate, but not too close, keeping his movements loose and non-threatening. “You know, Sorrel’s not the trusting type either. He came here skittish as hell. Took weeks before he let me near him.”
Nate shifted his weight awkwardly, finally glancing Zeeb’s way. “What changed?”
Zeeb gave him a faint smile. “Patience. And letting him take things at his own pace. You can’t force trust. You gotta earn it.”
For a moment, Nate didn’t respond. His gaze flicked back to the horse, a battle playing out inside him, the instinct to retreat warring with the quiet ache to connect.
“Here,” Zeeb held out the coiled lead rope. “Breathe easy. Don’t rush him.”
Nate hesitated, his body so tightly wound it felt as though he might snap at any second. He unclenched his fists and reached for the rope. Their fingers brushed, a fleeting connection, and Nate flinched at the contact, the sharp, electric awareness of being too close.
“Good,” Zeeb murmured, retreating a little to give him space. “Now, take a step closer and hold your hand out flat. Let him come to you.”
Nate exhaled sharply, trying to push the weight off his chest, and did as Zeeb instructed. His movements were hesitant, but Sorrel’s ears flicked forward. Nate could almost see the tension easing in his body.
He won’t harm me. He’s a gentle soul.
For a moment there, Nate wasn’t sure if he meant Sorrel or Zeeb.
Zeeb stayed quiet, watching the two interact.
As a rule he liked to be active, but there were times when he preferred to be patient and still, and there was something about Nate that made him want to tread carefully.
Underneath all the jagged edges and defenses, Zeeb could sense something else. Something raw and real.
And maybe, just maybe, worth waiting for.
Sorrel stepped forward, his velvety nose brushing Nate’s outstretched hand. The look on Nate’s face shifted from guarded to something softer—surprise, maybe even a flicker of awe. But as quickly as it appeared, it was gone, buried beneath the mask he always seemed to wear.
“See?” Zeeb smiled. “He doesn’t hate you.”
Nate swallowed hard, drawing his hand back as though the contact burned.
“Can we do this later?”
“Whenever you want. You’re writin’ this schedule.
” Zeeb stilled. “I could take you for a ride. Not on a horse,” he added quickly.
“There’s a wagon free. We could take that.
And you could bring your artist stuff. I could even pack us something for lunch so we wouldn’t have to come back until supper time.
That way, if you found a spot you liked, we could stay a while. ”
It didn’t take a whole lotta brains to guess what caused Nate’s nervous flinch.
“I know it’s a bit much askin’ you to take a ride your first full day,” Zeeb remarked. “Especially when you’ve known me all of five minutes. But maybe this is one of those times when you just go with it.”
Nate frowned. “But what would you do while I was drawing or painting?”
Zeeb chuckled. “Read. Something I don’t get a chance to do when guests are here. I’ve got a book I started nearly a month ago, and I’m only halfway through.”
“Are you sure you wouldn’t rather be with the other guests?”
And there he is, givin’ me an out.
Only one problem. Zeeb didn’t want to be with the others. The guy with the guarded green eyes was much more interesting.
Zeeb gave a mock gasp. “You wanna be rid of me already?” He kept his tone teasing and light.
Nate flushed. “I didn’t mean it that way.”
“Your being here is giving me a chance to breathe, to think.” That much was true. As much as Zeeb loved his life on the ranch, the chance to spend two weeks at a very different pace was something of a rarity.
I’m gonna make the most of every minute.
Then he realized he wasn’t there on vacation. He had a job to do.
Zeeb smiled. “This was a great start. You did good.”
Nate blinked. “Really?”
“Of course. You introduced yourself to two horses, you met Paul… I’d call that a success. And the day ain’t hardly started.”
Nate’s shoulders dropped a little.
I think that matters more than you wanna admit.
“I’ve got my sketching pad and pencils in here.” Nate patted his bag. “But my easel’s still in my car, so if we could pick that up?”
Zeeb nodded. “Fetch it. I’ll get the wagon rigged.”
And then Nate was gone, disappearing toward the parking lot behind the bunkhouse.
Zeeb led Sorrel into his stall. He stroked Sorrel’s mane.
“You did good, ole boy. Not gonna take you with us, because that wouldn’t be good for you, but I promise, I’ll bring him back.
” He gazed into the horse’s liquid eyes “You like him, don’tcha?
” Zeeb smiled. “Yeah, I like him too. An’ one of these days, he’s gonna ride you.
” Zeeb closed the stall door and went in search of the wagon.
Maybe I’ll get a glimpse of the real Nate Caldwell.
Whoever he was lay buried under layers of…fear? Anguish?
Zeeb had no clue, but he’d bet his bottom dollar none of it was good.
What surprised him was that he wanted to know more about the enigmatic guest.
He only got here last night, and he’s all I can think about.
“Where are you taking me?” Nate’s easel and bag were stowed behind them.
Salvation had disappeared from view about fifteen minutes ago, and Zeeb steered the horses and wagon across a prairie, through huge stalks of yellow-green grass.
Ahead of them were dark green trees, but what grabbed Nate’s attention was the expanse of blue above him, broken only by wisps of white cloud, as fragile as spider silk.
Zeeb pointed to a ridge ahead of them. “Up there. The trail takes us through the woods to the lake.”
Despite his nerves that still hadn’t dissipated, Nate smiled. “A lake? I love sketching and painting water. How did you know?”
Zeeb shrugged. “I’m taking you there ’cause every time I visit, I wish I had a single artistic bone in my body, to be able to capture the view.”
A cowboy who appreciated the beauty of nature?
Someone put a lot of thought into choosing this guy for my visit.
That went some way to quieting the little voice in his head, the one protesting that he didn’t know this guy from Adam, that Nate wasn’t safe.
Nate could hear his dad’s voice too. Dad trusts Zeeb.
Maybe Nate’s little voice knew shit in this instance.
He turned his mind off for a while to take it all in.
They were riding through a vast open space that brought fresh meaning to the phrase big sky .
Nate loved to gaze at the sun setting on the mountains that bordered Boise, but this was sky on another scale.
He and Zeeb were the only people visible, two specks crawling across the surface of the world.
“It gets to you, don’t it?”
Nate thought that had to be the understatement of the century.
“I don’t think I’ve ever been in a such a peaceful place,” he murmured.
Zeeb chuckled. “Every damn time I do this trail, I always tell the guests this is why I’m here. Life is as complicated or as simple as you make it. I love it here. I get to meet people, carve out the life I want…”
“You said you’ve been at Salvation for twelve years. Where were you before that?”
“Idaho, then a lot of other places.”
Nate blinked. “Idaho? Really? Where, exactly?”
“It was a small rural town in the foothills of the Rocky Mountains. Sorta tight-knit place where everyone knew everyone else’s business. And I have no plans to ever go back there.”
“I live in Boise,” Nate admitted. “I’m only there because Dad is. Except he hasn’t been my dad all that long.”
For the life of him, Nate had no idea why he’d shared that. Maybe it was because Dad had spoken so positively about Zeeb that Nate knew he could be trusted.
Maybe it’s just Zeeb.
Nate could understand the desire to leave the past far behind him. What surprised him was that Zeeb apparently felt the same way.