Chestnut

by Jennifer Li Shotz

  “Do you see him?” she called out to Colton, who was searching the next row over.

  “No,” he shouted back.

  Meg turned down the last row, worry creeping in that she wouldn’t find him after all. Then, at last, Meg heard one bark rise above all the others. It was heartbreakingly familiar, and Meg sucked in her breath.

  “It’s him!” she cried to Colton. “Chestnut—is that you?”

  At the end of the row she froze, her eyes locked on the most magnificent sight she had ever seen. Chestnut was in the middle kennel, paws up on the door, his nose pressed through the metal wire. He was shaking and barking and whining, clearly overwhelmed by all the sights, sounds, and smells. At the sight of her, he instantly started wagging his tail and wriggling around the cage like crazy.

  “Hi, buddy,” she said as calmly as she could, trying to soothe him. “Shhhh . . . it’s okay—I’m here now. You’re okay.” She unlatched the door and it opened with a squeak.

  Colton rounded the corner just as Chestnut was hurtling himself out of the kennel and into Meg’s arms. She laughed as the dog squirmed and covered her face in sloppy dog kisses and squirmed some more.

  Janice came up behind them. “I have never been more glad to be wrong in my entire life,” she laughed. “Someone’s happy to see you.”

  “Not as happy as I am to see him,” Meg said, feeling like she might actually burst with happiness. She put the dog down on the ground and wiped away the last of her tears with her sleeve. “Can we take him home, ma’am?”

  Chestnut spun in a circle, doing a goofy, happy dance. He barked playfully at Janice, then sat down right at her feet, gazing up at her with big, pleading eyes. They all laughed, and Janice bent down and scratched Chestnut behind the ears.

  “I’m not sure I could stop you if I tried,” she said, grinning up at Meg. “Look at this face!” She patted Chestnut, who looked from her to Meg and back again. “Yes,” Janice said. “You can take him home where he belongs.”

  Colton signed the forms while Meg slipped the collar over Chestnut’s head and snapped the leash onto it. “I’m so sorry you had to come here, buddy,” Meg whispered into his ear. “And I’m sorry for scaring you, but I have a new plan, and if it works, we’re going to be together after all. First we’ve got a job to do though.”

  Chestnut blinked at her patiently, as if he understood what she was saying. Meg clicked her tongue and he followed her out the door, ready to get to work.

  ★ Chapter 21 ★

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  * * *

  Chestnut ran cheerfully beside Meg’s bike the whole way back to Colton’s. Meg kept looking at him out of the corner of her eye, unable to really believe that she had him back. She wasn’t sure how she would repay Colton for all of his help, but she knew she’d have to do something amazing for him and his family. Without them, Chestnut would still be stuck in a cage in that cold, lonely shelter.

  When she thought about him there, her anger at her parents flared up. She wasn’t being fair, she knew. They were just being parents, and she was the one who had lied in the first place. She’d gotten herself into some serious trouble, but still . . . it seemed so cruel that they had forced her to abandon Chestnut.

  But Meg had a more pressing issue to worry about right then: figuring out who had stolen their trees. She knew she’d have to forgive her parents eventually. Maybe when she and Chestnut solved the crime, they’d be able to forgive her, too. As they stopped at the end of Colton’s driveway, she turned her thoughts to how they would get started.

  “I’m just going to take Chestnut over to the spot where the trees were taken,” she said. “And then I’ll bring him back here, okay?”

  “Sure,” Colton said. “I promised Dad a rematch, so I’d better get in there. When you bring him back, I’ll introduce him to my parents and get him settled.”

  Meg handed him her reflector vest, then reached out her gloved fist, and Colton bumped it with his. “Thanks, Colt,” she said. “For everything.”

  Colton nodded. “That’s what friends are for.” He rode up the driveway. Just before he pulled his bike into the barn, he turned back. “Be careful, Meg the Leg.”

  “Always,” Meg replied.

  She rode back toward her family’s property and ditched her bike outside the fence line between Colton’s land and hers. Now that she and Chestnut were out on their own, at night, far from any houses, she was starting to get a little nervous. She’d never been afraid on her own farm before, but no one had ever stolen anything there either.

  The quickest route to the spot where the trees were cut down was across the fields. “Come on, boy,” Meg said to Chestnut as she ducked between the fence rails. He hopped through them right behind her. “Let’s go solve a mystery,” she said to her dog.

  Chestnut seemed happy to follow wherever she led him. When they got to the back lot where the trees had been cut down, Meg gasped. Just as Mr. Mike had said, someone had come along and cut down every single tree in this corner of the farm, leaving only short stumps behind. Though she knew what had happened, seeing the proof of it felt like a punch in the gut. This was more than a theft. This was a violation of her family’s safety too.

  It was so upsetting that Meg couldn’t afford to think about it right then. From what she could make out, the ground was covered with fresh snow and speckled with the pine needles and pinecones that covered every acre of the tree farm. She didn’t see any footprints—which meant the snow had fallen after the trees had been cut down. That could be important information.

  Here and there Meg saw a depression under the snow, which, she thought, looked a little like a spot where a tree had been dragged. She stood still and scanned the area, carefully observing every detail she could make out in the beam of her flashlight, sorting out which ones could be clues. She didn’t see anything obvious, so it was time to put Chestnut to work.

  She signaled to him with a click of her tongue. He ran to her, and she dipped her fingers in some sap dripping off one of the tree stumps. She held the sap out to him, and he sniffed and snorted, inhaled and exhaled, absorbing every detail about the trees that he could. When he was ready, she gave him the command.

  “Chestnut, go find it!”

  Chestnut instantly got to work. He skimmed his nose along the ground, leaving little marks in the snow. He was following an invisible path, stopping at each stump for an instant before moving on to the next. At the end of a row, he moved farther along and turned right, walking along the fence. Meg ran to catch up with him. “What is it—did you find something?”

  Chestnut had sped up into a trot. Meg could see that he was in the zone, just like he had been when he’d first hunted pinecones. This part of the farm was ringed in chain link. The dog ran along the fence line for a few yards until he came to a sudden stop. He pawed at the ground, sniffed at the snow, and bobbed his head around the metal wire, his nostrils twitching furiously.

  Meg held her breath as she watched and waited. Finally, Chestnut raised his snout to scent the air, then looked at Meg and barked excitedly.

  He had found something!

  She ran over to his side and saw, right in front of him, a torn shred of dark fabric snagged on a jagged point of metal. The fence had been clipped in several places and pried open, making a hole big enough for a full-grown person to climb through. This was where the thieves had entered the farm, Meg realized. That meant this scrap of fabric had to be from something one of the robbers was wearing. The thought made her shudder.

  Chestnut pressed his nose to the fabric as if to make sure she saw it, then barked again and clambered through the fence. Meg snatched the piece of cloth and stuffed it in her coat pocket, then followed Chestnut through the opening, careful not to scratch herself on the sharp ends. Chestnut shot off into the woods surrounding the farm. He was on the case.

  Meg ran after him, blood pounding in her ears.

  As she followed her dog through the dark forest, she imagined a world where they were t
he heroes of Briggs Family Tree Farm. She could see her dad smiling proudly as he explained to the staff that thanks to Meg and Chestnut, not only would they get to keep their jobs, but they’d be getting a Christmas bonus, too. She imagined Mr. Mike patting her on the shoulder with gratitude. The others would cheer and give Chestnut happy scratches behind the ears. Sarah and Ben would wink at her as they applauded. And her mom would come over with a perfectly sized doggy Christmas sweater that she’d slip over Chestnut’s head and around his paws. When Meg would look at it, she’d see it said “Briggs” on it—and she’d know Chestnut was hers forever.

  Meg smiled to herself as this wonderful scene played in her mind. But as she watched Chestnut beeline toward their target, she knew that he had no worries about what Meg’s family would say. He wasn’t focused on saving anything. His only concern was to follow his training, and that meant tracking the scent that he had found. Meg was a little bit jealous—she wished that she could forget everything else that was bubbling and roiling through her mind.

  They climbed over a fallen log and for a moment, Chestnut stopped. He seemed to be staring off into the distance, not particularly focused on anything. Panic shot through Meg. What if he’d lost the trail?

  She saw that his nose was twitching. He swung his head from side to side, then sniffed some more. He took two steps in one direction, then three in another. Finally, after a moment that felt like a lifetime to Meg, Chestnut barked. He spun around, ran back to the log, and sniffed underneath and all around it until he picked up a scent again. This time, he headed off at a sharp angle, and Meg saw a new bounce in his step—a renewed excitement as he followed the scent, his training, and his instincts.

  Meg was in awe of her dog. He was adorable, he was sweet, and he was a good boy. And on top of all that, he was an amazing tracker who did things no human—nor even most dogs—could do. She wished she had thought to bring some treats, because Chestnut deserved a reward for all of his hard work.

  Chestnut was moving faster and faster. Meg wondered how far they would have to go to find the trees, but it didn’t matter. She would go as far as she needed to, and she knew Chestnut was just as dedicated. His nose would lead them to the truth.

  They headed deeper into the woods, hot on the trail of the thieves who were trying to ruin their family Christmas.

  ★ Chapter 22 ★

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  * * *

  Though the trees were thick, the moon was high. As Chestnut led Meg deeper into the woods, it lit their way. Every few minutes, Chestnut got so far ahead of her that she couldn’t see him, but when she whistled or called his name he stopped. His tail wagged while he waited for her, but she could tell that he was impatient. As soon as he decided she was close enough, he turned and dashed forward again, his nose leading him onward.

  After they’d trekked for a while, the moon slipped behind a cloud, the woods went dark, and suddenly Meg could barely see three feet in front of her. But she wasn’t afraid. She’d spent her entire childhood traipsing through these woods, exploring and pretending. She just didn’t want to get separated from Chestnut.

  “Chestnut,” she called. “To me.” She’d heard Colton say this to his dogs many times, and she hoped it would work.

  Immediately, she heard the dog’s footsteps heading back toward her. She knelt down and waited for him, then scratched his head and snuggled him when he got there. “You’re such a good boy, Chestnut,” she said. “I can’t see as well as you can. Can you stay close?”

  As if he understood, Chestnut slowed down while Meg picked up her pace, and together they closed the distance between them. Hopping over fallen trees, scrambling through rock-littered gullies, Meg followed Chestnut. The dog was like a tracking machine. Occasionally he stopped, lifting his nose from the ground to sniff at the air before darting off to follow the scent again.

  Time slipped by, and Meg shivered as the night grew colder. A lot colder. Every time she inhaled she felt the icy air way down deep in her lungs. The farther she got from the farm, the more undisturbed the land was—and the deeper the snow on the ground. Her legs sank shin-deep, making it harder and harder to walk.

  Meg squinted into the darkness, broken every couple minutes by a flash of moonlight, and realized that they’d gone deeper into the forest than she’d ever been before. She’d been so focused on following Chestnut that she’d lost track of the direction they were heading, and now she was disoriented. Which direction was the farm? Where was the lot, or Colton’s house? The land, the trees—even the air felt different and unfamiliar wherever they were.

  “Chestnut, stop,” she called out. He stood still, one paw frozen midstep, and turned back to look at her expectantly. “Hold on, buddy,” she said. She felt a tiny wriggle of fear. Even if she and Chestnut could find the stolen trees, what if they couldn’t find their way home again? She needed to get her bearings.

  Meg scanned the immediate area and spotted a clearing up ahead. It was a good place to stop and plant herself while she tried to spot a landmark or plot their location. “Come on, Chestnut,” she said. “Let’s figure out where we are.”

  The clouds cracked open, and the moon beamed down from high above them. Snow crunched beneath her boots. With Chestnut trotting close at her side, Meg reached the open area and looked up at the stars, trying to spot the North Star. She wasn’t an expert, but she figured she could do that much.

  As Chestnut wandered a few feet away to trace a scent, Meg spun in a slow circle, her eyes locked on the sky. Suddenly the snow shifted beneath her feet. Just as Chestnut let out a loud, sharp bark of alarm and warning, Meg screamed.

  In the space of a single breath, the ground beneath her gave way. She was submerged in an icy pond so cold that it felt like her whole body was being squeezed in a horrible monster’s grip. Meg flailed wildly, and frigid water filled her mouth and nose and splashed in her eyes. She couldn’t see anything around her. She was chin deep, and her hair was soaked. She had no thoughts, no ideas, no words—there was only the crushing pain of the bitterly cold water.

  Then, somehow, through the blank of her mind, Meg heard a soft, distant sound. At first, she couldn’t make it out—couldn’t understand what it was. It was rhythmic, repetitive—a single sound playing over and over and over again until it sounded like one. It was loud and insistent. It tugged at her mind, demanding her attention more than the pain or fear or cold. Meg focused on the sound. Somehow, she understood that she needed to move toward it, so she kicked upward. Her waterlogged boots and coat felt like they weighed a hundred pounds each, and her limbs were weak. Where had all her strength gone? But she pushed herself on. Whatever that sound was, she had to get to it.

  Her shoulder knocked into something hard and cold. The layer of ice that covered the pond. Though her limbs were almost entirely numb, she raised her arms out of the water and tried to pull herself up onto the ice. She lifted her head and there was Chestnut, standing above her, barking frantically. Barking. That was the sound she had heard. Chestnut.

  Meg coughed, spitting out water as she gasped for air. She tried to catch hold of something, but her wet gloves were too slippery and the surface of the ice was too slick for her to grab onto. The ice began to crumble at her touch, falling away under her as she flailed her arms desperately. With a heart-rending howl, Chestnut leaped forward and snapped at her sleeve, grabbing it with his front teeth. He held on with all his power, but the unsteady layer beneath him gave way too. His front paws slipped into the freezing water, and he yelped in pain—but held tightly to Meg’s jacket.

  Meg sank lower in the water. Her eyes began to close, and she didn’t have much strength left to fight her way back up. She felt a powerful pulling on her arm though, and it was keeping her from going under. She opened her eyes just in time to see Chestnut again, this time sliding downward toward her, scrambling with his hind legs to pull himself backwards. She realized with horror that she was pulling him under with her. Adrenaline shot through Meg’s body like lightning,
and her mind snapped back into focus. No!

  As if an unseen force was raising her up from below, Meg gripped at the ice with her gloved hands and managed to lift her shoulders out of the water. She heaved Chestnut backwards with one hand. He couldn’t help but let go of her coat as he scuttled onto safer ground. He began barking again frantically, desperately, intensely.

  Meg finally got a better grip on the ice, and she tried to pull herself farther up, but it was so hard. All of her strength had been sapped by the cold. She clawed at the cold surface, straining to hang on. Just as she thought she couldn’t make it another second, she felt something warm and soft against her cheek. Chestnut was there, his face close to hers, giving her his strength. She grabbed hold of his collar, her frozen fingers stiff and unbending. He barked a warning before pulling backwards, his claws scratching and sliding as he tried to dig into the ice. She held on with every last drop of hope she had.

  Chestnut pulled harder, giving her just the tiniest bit of leverage she needed to hinge herself up and out of the water, onto the ice. Meg whimpered as she kicked and pulled and slid on her belly to safer ground. The winter air felt warm compared to the water, and her whole body felt like it was on fire as her nerves came back to life. Her chest ached and burned like it was going to explode. But Chestnut was there, at her side, nudging at her and misting her face with his warm breath. When she finally reached a firm spot on the snow-covered dirt, she rolled over onto her back, and he hovered over her, as if he were checking her for injury.

  “Chestnut,” she gasped, reaching up and pulling him in close. “You saved me. You saved my life.” She couldn’t keep from crying, and as the hot tears streamed down her face, she let out a long, hoarse sob. Chestnut looked so upset that Meg only cried harder, and she was pretty sure he would have too if he could have. He studied her face questioningly, helplessly, then howled plaintively. He stopped only long enough to lick her tears before howling once more.