Page 104 of Captivated
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, inboththeir 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 itsstall.” 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.”
