Chestnut

by Jennifer Li Shotz

  “What’s going on out there?” Colton shouted from inside the screen door. “To me,” he commanded, and every pair of canine ears perked up before the entire crew charged off toward him as one. Meg was left alone at the edge of the yard. “Hey, Meg!” Colton called out once she was unburied from the pile of fur and affection. “What are you doing here?”

  “Hey, Colton,” she said, following after the dogs.

  “What’s up?” Colton asked. The Christmas lights in the yard flicked on, illuminating her as she approached.

  Colton stepped out onto the porch and ran a hand over the top of his hair. Ever since he’d decided to grow his hair out on top, he was always trying to fix it into place. Meg giggled. “You just making sure it’s still there?” she asked.

  He pulled on a pair of muddy boots that sat on the stoop and grimaced at the cold. “A man’s fade has got to be in perfect order,” he said, grinning broadly as he trotted down the steps to meet her. “Hello, beasts.” He ruffled the fur of his four-legged friends, who had gathered at the bottom of the steps and watched him attentively.

  Colton then held out a fist toward Meg, which she bumped with her gloved hand. “Happy birthday, Meg the Leg.” He’d started calling her that on the first day she met him, when he had just moved to their school and she had scored a goal in gym class soccer. These days he only brought out the nickname for special occasions.

  She beamed at him, taking in his generally rumpled appearance and wide smile. “Thanks, Colt. I need a favor, though.”

  “What’s up?” he asked again. He picked up a stick from the ground and threw it for the dogs to chase. Several tore off after it, while the older ones huffed and lay down, happy for the moment of relative calm in their lives—and the scratches Meg and Colton offered.

  “I . . . uh, I found a dog,” she said, feeling suddenly shy about her plan. Saying it out loud meant it really wasn’t something she’d dreamed or made up. It was real. Chestnut was real.

  Colton’s eyes went wide. “What? Where?”

  “On the farm. He was stuck in the fence—he’s so cute, Colt. You wouldn’t believe him!”

  Just talking about Chestnut made all her shyness disappear. She was so excited to tell her friend everything about the dog that the words came tumbling out of her mouth. She told Colton about untangling Chestnut from the fence and taking him to the shed and spending so long trying to convince him to stay there while she went to work. She described how the pup had acted when she’d tried to leave, how he’d seemed afraid and anxious. Meg watched Colton’s face carefully for any hints to how he was reacting. What he thought about Chestnut would tell her a lot about the dog—and her chances of keeping him. After all, Colton was the son of the county’s two best veterinarians. He knew everything there was to know about animals, and dogs in particular.

  But Colton was just listening carefully and not displaying any response one way or the other.

  “He’s pretty skinny,” Meg went on. “And his paw is hurt. He’s limping a little, but if I could get him healed and cleaned up, then I could train him and maybe my mom and dad would . . .”

  She glanced at Colton, who had started biting his lip and staring at the ground, like he was lost in thought. Meg knew that look. It was the same one he got when he was thinking about the next move in a chess game. Her gut twisted with worry. If Colton wouldn’t help her, she didn’t know what she’d do.

  “Why do you look like that?” she asked nervously. “You think it’s a bad idea?”

  “I’m not saying that.” He shrugged. “I’m just thinking about everything you’ve told me about your parents and dogs, and, you know, they don’t sound like they’d be into it at all. Do you really think your folks are likely to let you keep him, no matter how well trained he is?”

  Meg winced. One of the things she loved most about Colton was his honesty, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t hard to hear sometimes. He had a kind heart and a ready smile, and they had an unspoken deal as friends: always tell the truth. And Colton was right.

  “I know, but—” Meg didn’t know how to finish the sentence. Wanting her parents to change their minds wasn’t going to make it happen. Her heart sank, but then she stopped herself from giving up. All day, Meg had been imagining the scene of her parents meeting Chestnut and being won over by his cuteness. In her mind she’d seen them saying yes, and she wasn’t going to let go of that without a fight.

  “I just worry that showing up with a dog is the last way to get them to change their minds,” Colton said. “It might make them feel kind of . . . I don’t know, pressured?”

  “But what if they did? Change their minds, I mean.”

  Tinker came running back to Colton with the slobbery stick in his mouth. Colton took it and hefted it in his hand.

  “That’d be great,” Colton answered, hurling the stick across the yard again. The dogs shot off after it with a clatter of claws and yips. “But, Meg, think of it like chess. You have to consider every possible move and think three steps ahead. What’re you going to do if they don’t?”

  Meg understood what Colton was trying to say. Truthfully, she should’ve expected this practical answer from her best friend, but she didn’t have time for his skepticism. Besides, thinking three steps ahead was what she was trying to do by asking for his help.

  Meg shook her head. “I’m not going to think about that yet. Let me worry about my parents. Right now, I need your help with his injured paw—will you help me?”

  Colton shifted his weight from foot to foot. He sighed. He looked up at her, and she pleaded with her eyes. She waited, barely breathing. Meg knew she was asking a lot. Colton never lied, and asking him to cover for her was pretty much the same thing. But she also knew that he and his whole family lived for animals, and his conscience wouldn’t let him leave one to suffer unnecessarily.

  After a minute, he finally spoke. “Yeah, I’ll help. Wait here.”

  He returned a few minutes later with his pockets bulging. “I had to sneak some stuff from the first aid kit, and Mom was trying to get me to watch a movie with her, so it took me a bit. I told her I was going over to your house for birthday cake.”

  Meg’s breath caught in her throat. She hadn’t thought about it all day, but she knew there wasn’t going to be any birthday cake this year. No one in her house had time to bake one, and buying one was an unnecessary expense. Her parents hadn’t had to tell her that—she’d just understood. Embarrassed, she looked away from Colton. “Let’s go,” she mumbled.

  Colton stopped. “You okay?” he asked, his voice soft.

  Meg sighed, knowing she’d never be able to hide her feelings from him. “I hadn’t even thought about cake,” she said. Her eyes were suddenly hot with tears. She willed them not to spill over and run down her cheeks. “I know it’s a stupid thing to get upset about, but I just realized that money’s too tight for cake.” Her voice trembled as she continued. “If we can’t afford cake, how on earth are we going to afford a dog? And my parents bought me this really expensive coat for my birthday—I was so selfish to want it in the first place. I should have made my mom return it and get her money back.”

  “Maybe,” Colton replied. “But maybe it’s all right for you to have something nice once in a while too. I mean, your parents are the adults. They wouldn’t have bought it for you if they couldn’t afford to, right? I’m sure they’ll figure it all out.”

  Meg loved that about Colton. He never judged her or anyone else. He was just good and thoughtful and understanding.

  “Let’s stop by the barn and grab some dog food,” he said. “I’ll bet this stray of yours is hungry.”

  Inside the barn, Colton filled a bag with kibble and grabbed a bowl, a big bottle of water, and a couple of old horse blankets. They packed it all onto a sled they could pull behind them. Loaded down with supplies, they trekked back across the tree farm in comfortable silence.

  Even before they reached the shed, Meg could hear Chestnut whining. Her heart pounded
as she ran to the door, hoping he was okay. As soon as she opened the latch and swung the splintered wood on its rusty hinges, Chestnut limped toward her, shivering. His eyes were wide and glassy as he surveyed Meg and Colton.

  “Oh my gosh,” Colton said, his voice filled with concern as he shone his flashlight toward the dog. “He is limping pretty bad, huh?”

  They stepped into the shed, and Meg sat down on the ground and patted her knees. Chestnut climbed into her lap and spun around a few times. As the dog nuzzled her eagerly, Colton crouched down and reached out a hand for him to sniff too. Chestnut tore his attention away from Meg to investigate this new person who’d shown up with her. After a moment, Colton stroked Chestnut’s side and studied the striped pattern of his fur.

  “I think he’s a Plott hound,” Colton said.

  Meg scratched at Chestnut’s ears. “A Plott hound? Aren’t those pretty expensive dogs?”

  “Yeah. They’re awesome hunting dogs, and they’re excellent trackers.”

  Colton sat down on the ground beside Meg and continued petting Chestnut. He was gaining the dog’s trust before he tried to examine his paw, Meg knew. With his other hand Colton gave Meg the bag of kibble. “Get ready to feed him this while I try to get a good look at his paw, would you?”

  Meg scooped out a handful of food, which Chestnut smelled instantly. His whole body wiggled with ravenous excitement. She held her palm out to the dog, who sniffed the kibble for a moment and then gobbled it up nearly in one bite. He was no longer paying any attention to Colton, who gently raised Chestnut’s injured white paw and shone his flashlight on it.

  Chestnut didn’t even seem to notice what Colton was doing. When all the kibble was gone, he ran his warm tongue across Meg’s palm, searching for crumbs. She giggled and held out another handful of food. Chestnut quickly crunched it into bits.

  Meanwhile, Colton found the source of Chestnut’s wound. “Oh, poor buddy,” he said. He drew a pair of tweezers from one of his stuffed pockets.

  “What is it?” Meg asked, craning her neck to see while still holding her hand out for Chestnut to eat.

  “Hold still, boy,” Colton said as he squinted at the paw. “He’s got a cut, but there’s also a thorn in it. That’s probably what’s got him limping so bad. It’s got to hurt.”

  Meg held Chestnut still with one hand and kept him furnished with kibble with the other. His fur was smooth and soft against her palm. Colton gripped the dog’s injured paw firmly while he carefully removed the thorn with the tweezers. Chestnut jerked his paw and gave a little yelp as Colton worked. Meg’s heart jumped to her throat when she felt the dog quiver with fear and pain, but she knew they were helping him. She just wished she could tell him that.

  “Shhhhh,” she soothed him. “It’s okay. I know it hurts right now, but it’ll be over in just a sec.”

  The thorn was out. Colton let his breath out in a rush and ran a hand down Chestnut’s neck. “That’s going to feel a lot better, buddy. I promise.” Colton pulled out a tube of antibiotic ointment and squeezed some onto his fingers before rubbing it into the pad of Chestnut’s paw. The dog looked at Meg with fear in his eyes, as though asking her if it was going to hurt anymore. Meg calmed him with a soft stroke and gentle shush. After a few moments, Chestnut returned to his kibble tentatively. Meg felt him lean into her as his body began to relax.

  “You should pour him some water,” Colton said as he began to wrap the dog’s foot in a gauzy bandage. Meg did as she was told. When Colton was finished, Chestnut wiggled to his feet to drink, testing the injured foot gingerly.

  Chestnut was thirsty. He lapped at the water without pausing, which gave Colton a chance to check the rest of him over. Colton knelt beside the dog and ran his hands over him lightly, leaning down to look at his belly and the underside of his tail. Meg watched as Colton tugged the burrs out of Chestnut’s fur. When he’d had enough water, Chestnut raised his head and stared at Colton for a long moment, as if sizing up the person who was inspecting him—and deciding whether or not he was okay with it. Chestnut must have approved of Colton, because he pushed his cold, wet nose against Colton’s hand.

  Colton laughed. “It’s a real shame,” he said, patting Chestnut’s side. The dog sat down and rolled over, showing his belly and begging for scratches, which Colton happily provided.

  “What is?” Meg asked. Chestnut closed his eyes, stuck all four paws into the air, and let his head loll back, enjoying the attention.

  “A beautiful dog like this . . . he must have been abandoned after hunting season. It happens a lot, you know.”

  “What do you mean?” Meg shuddered at the thought of someone discarding a dog like trash. Especially a sweet, happy pup like Chestnut.

  “Hunters breed and train hounds for hunting, but it costs a lot to take care of them all year long when they’re really only ‘useful’ during hunting season. So after the season is over, some people—not a lot, but some—just take the dogs out into the mountains and leave them.”

  As if he could understand what Colton was saying, Chestnut wiggled back onto his front, then jumped up on all fours and bounced happily in front of Colton.

  “He’s thanking you,” Meg said.

  “You’re welcome, pal.” Colton smiled, and Chestnut licked his cheek before letting out a happy little grunt and flopping back down on Meg’s lap.

  She threw her arms around the dog’s warm neck. Who would leave an animal alone in the mountains—in the snow and cold? It was the worst thing she’d ever heard, and it broke her heart. She couldn’t imagine how confused and sad Chestnut must have been, all alone out there. She looked into his brown eyes, which stared back at her so trustingly. He rested his head on her arm and his lids began to droop. Meg felt like her heart would burst with love for this little guy.

  “Well,” Colton said, sitting down next to her. “I’m afraid your next move is pretty obvious.”

  “What do you mean?” Meg asked.

  “I mean, I don’t think you can keep this poor guy cooped up in this shed. And I don’t think you should hide this from your family.”

  Meg’s eyes went wide. Was Colton suggesting that she give up Chestnut? She tried to think of something to say but came up short.

  “I’ve taken care of his paw,” he continued. “But he belongs at the shelter, where he can get the care he needs. And a proper home.” Colton’s eyes were kind as he said the last part, but it still didn’t take away the sting Meg felt.

  “B-but . . . he found me. He needs me.” Chestnut rolled over, so his belly and paws were up. He swatted at Meg’s chin while he dozed. “I just have to find a way to convince my mom and dad,” she said.

  “If he’s at the shelter, you can still do that,” Colton said. “If your mom and dad come around, maybe you can adopt him.”

  Meg’s mind reeled.

  “You need to think strategically, Meg,” Colton said. “Promise you’ll take him to the shelter first thing in the morning.”

  The idea of taking Chestnut to a place where she might never see him again made her heart want to shatter into a thousand tiny pieces. But then again, she wasn’t sure how long it might take to convince her parents to let her keep him. Maybe Colton’s strategy was right. She scratched behind Chestnut’s ears. He stirred and looked up at her with big trusting eyes. Maybe the shelter was the best place for him.

  Meg took a deep breath. “Promise.”

  ★ Chapter 6 ★

  * * *

  * * *

  Colton spread the horse blankets on the cold ground and called Chestnut over to them. Chestnut stepped onto the fabric and lay right down on them.

  “Good boy,” Colton singsonged. He picked up the corners of the top blanket and wrapped them around the dog like a canine-size burrito. “There you go.” Colton patted Chestnut’s head softly and turned to Meg. “I’ve got to get home,” he said. “I promised my mom I’d watch that movie with her when I got back.” He pointed to the pile of medical supplies. “I’ll leave that
stuff here. See that balloon?”

  She nodded.

  “I clipped off the skinny part of it. Now you can use the rest to cover his bandage if you take him out on a walk. It’ll keep the wound dry. If his bandage gets wet, you’ll need to change it.”

  Meg nodded.

  “Colton—” Meg bit her lip, her voice small. “Thanks for your help today. It really means a lot.”

  He gave her a sad smile. “’Course, Meg the Leg.”

  Meg smiled back at him, but her heart was heavy with the thought of taking Chestnut to the shelter in the morning. Colton headed for the door, and Chestnut slipped out from under his blanket and trotted over to him, wanting to say goodbye. Colton leaned down and scratched behind the Plott hound’s ears for a minute.

  “See you, buddy.” Colton turned to leave, then looked back over his shoulder at Meg. “Happy birthday again,” he said. He hesitated, then went on. “We’ll figure something out, about Chestnut. I know we will.”

  “See you tomorrow,” she managed to say through the lump in her throat.

  After he left, Meg plopped down onto the blanket. Chestnut trotted over to her and wagged his tail. He had gotten a second wind and looked full of puppy energy.

  “You want to walk for a minute before I tuck you in?” Meg asked. Chestnut’s ears immediately perked up, and she realized he knew the word walk. Someone had to have taught him, which meant that Colton was probably right about him having once belonged to someone.