Page 105 of Captivated

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.Reallylooked. Zeeb went back to forking manure into the wheelbarrow.

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

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. “Talkabout it? Dude, I haven’t eventhoughtabout 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?”

---