Chestnut Read online

  Meg patted his head as she dismounted from her bike. “Go ahead,” she said, urging him to play. She was in the process of greeting each of Colton’s dogs when she heard the farmhouse door swing open. She looked up to see Colton pulling on his coat as he crossed the yard.

  “Hey!” he said. His eyes widened when he saw Chestnut. “Uh, what’s he doing here?”

  Meg sighed. “He escaped from the shed and tracked me to Gigi’s house. I had to lie and say he was one of your dogs.”

  Colton looked at Meg, and she knew that he didn’t approve of her lying again. But Chestnut sidled over to him and happily received Colton’s ear scratches. The other dogs were giving Chestnut the once-over with their noses. At first the Plott hound tensed up, but after a moment, he shyly sniffed at Bentley. His ears twitched as Bentley sniffed him back, but then Bentley splayed his front legs and lowered his chest to the ground, letting Chestnut know he wanted to play. Next Mya, the German shepherd mix, lunged at Chestnut playfully and he jumped backwards. He shot her some side-eye, then decided he wanted to play, too.

  Chestnut barked and half lunged at Mya, then scurried away, inviting her to chase him. They ran in a circle around the yard, and soon Bentley joined in and chased them both.

  “What’s your plan, Meg?” Colton asked.

  “I honestly don’t know,” Meg said, watching the dogs play. “He’s going to get me in trouble if he keeps escaping, but I feel so bad keeping him locked up in the shed. It isn’t fair to him. I just feel like I’m failing at everything, Colt.” She bit her lip to keep her feelings from spilling over, but she couldn’t fight it. “What if Chestnut can’t be trained? What if he’s always going to be anxious when I’m not around? What if he’ll never stay put? What if the ornaments bomb and I can’t afford to keep him after all? What if I get caught lying before I have a chance to tell my mom and dad and grandma the truth? What if . . .” She trailed off, because there were just too many what ifs to count.

  “What if,” Colton said, punching her lightly on the shoulder, “everything works out fine?”

  Meg looked over, her eyes wide. “Does that mean that you’re going to help me?”

  Colton shrugged. “I might have decided to switch strategies. Listen, worrying isn’t going to help. My grandpa always says, ‘Worrying is just borrowing trouble,’ and he’s right. You’ve already told a lie—”

  “A lot of lies,” she said with a pained look.

  “Okay, a lot of lies. Right now, your best bet is to try to train Chestnut to be the perfect farm dog.”

  Meg’s shoulders sagged. “I know you’re right. I just . . . I don’t want to lose him. I know I’ve only had him for a couple days, but he’s already . . . I don’t know . . . It’s corny, but Chestnut feels like family.”

  At the sound of his name, Chestnut stopped wrestling with Mya. He looked at Meg and popped up to standing, waiting for her command. Meg knelt down and hugged her dog. Chestnut nestled gently into her shoulder, his nose pressed against her as if he were hugging her back.

  Colton clicked his tongue and all of his dogs sat, waiting for his command. Chestnut looked at them, confused at first, then followed their lead. Meg smiled. She knew in her heart that Chestnut could be trained to help out on the farm. She knew that he was a good dog, and that he was meant to be hers. She just didn’t know how to make it all happen yet.

  “To me,” Colton said, gesturing to his dogs. Moving as a pack, they ran to him and sat at attention. Chestnut trailed after them and sat down too.

  “Good,” Colton said, passing out a round of dog biscuits from his pocket. Meg had never known a time when Colton didn’t have a pocket full of dog treats. It was one of a million reasons why he was the coolest person she knew.

  “Lie down,” Colton said. All six of his dogs lay down. They were practically drooling for treats, but Colton waited patiently until Chestnut lay down as well. Then he passed out another round of dog biscuits. “Good work, team,” he said, praising each of them with a pat.

  “Roll over,” Colton said, moving his finger in a circular motion as he spoke. Four of his dogs rolled over immediately, while Mya rolled onto her back and wiggled like she had an itch. Bella stood up on her hind legs and danced in a little circle. Colton managed to keep a straight face, but Meg laughed at her silly moves.

  “Not like that, Bella,” Colton said, his voice firm. He gave a treat to each of the dogs that had rolled all the way over, then stood in front of Mya. “Mya, roll over,” he said, repeating the hand signal. This time Mya rolled all the way over and wagged happily as she took her treat from Colton’s fingertips.

  “Bella, roll over,” Colton said. The dog looked at him for a moment, as if she were deciding whether or not she felt like behaving. Then she rolled over, just as the others had done.

  “That’s a good girl, Bella,” Colton said, reaching down to pet her as she calmly took her biscuit. Colton sat down on the steps. Bella lay down next to him and put her front paws on his lap.

  “Now you try with Chestnut,” he said to Meg, tossing her a treat.

  Meg stood in front of her dog, who watched her with a curious—and slightly confused—expression. “Chestnut,” Meg said, making the circular gesture. “Roll over.”

  Chestnut flopped onto his side, watching Meg carefully. “Encourage him,” Colton suggested.

  “That’s a good start,” Meg said to Chestnut. “Good boy. Now roll over!” Chestnut flipped onto his back, wiggled happily for a moment with his paws in the air, then slowly flopped over onto his opposite side.

  “Give him the treat,” Colton said, grinning. “It wasn’t pretty, but it was a roll.”

  Meg scratched Chestnut’s ears. She held out a treat, and he hopped to his feet in a flash to accept his reward. “He’s a smart dog, isn’t he, Colt?”

  “Totally,” Colton said. He considered the dog carefully. “I think he’s just really freaked out because he was abandoned. He needs to know that you’re not going to leave him too.” Colton walked over to Chestnut, who swept his tail across the ground.

  Meg knew what it felt like to be anxious. Sometimes, when she lay in bed at night thinking about how worried her parents seemed all the time, she felt her heart beat faster. She couldn’t stop her mind from jumping to the worst possible outcome—what if they lost the farm? What if they had to move? In those moments, she felt helpless and scared, like the whole world was closing in.

  She understood why Chestnut felt that way, but it was awful to think of him being so frightened. No matter how many times Meg’s parents told her not to worry, she couldn’t stop herself. It was the same for Chestnut—so how would she ever get him to believe that she wouldn’t abandon him too?

  “I just—” Meg fumbled for the right words. “Where do I even start? Even if I could get Chestnut to believe that I’m always going to be there for him, what if . . . what if my parents don’t let me keep him?” Her eyes filled with tears. “And I just end up abandoning him like the last person he loved?”

  Colton shook his head sadly. He picked up a stray tennis ball and threw it. The herd of dogs went chasing after it, barking and tripping over one another. “Right now, all you can do is try not to let that happen, okay? You’ve got to focus on helping Chestnut become a great farm dog. I’ve got some training books you can read, and you’re going to work with him as hard as you can. Everything else will work itself out.” Chestnut trotted back to them, carrying the tennis ball. Colton took it from his mouth and lightly thumped the dog on the side. “I just know it will.”

  “Thanks, Colt.” Meg wiped her eyes and took a deep breath. Right then and there, she believed Colton was right. He just had to be.

  ★ Chapter 14 ★

  * * *

  * * *

  Meg walked Chestnut back to the shed as the sun started to go down. The closer they got to the ramshackle wooden building, the more she was filled with dread. How was she going to keep him locked in all night? He’d proven that he was able to escape and track
her down. What if she woke up in the morning to find him on their lawn? Or at the Christmas tree lot? What would she tell her parents then?

  When they got to the shed, Meg saw that her fears were for nothing. Chestnut was completely worn out from his playdate with Colton’s dogs. He ambled right inside and headed straight for the horse blankets, which he now knew were his bed. He spun in a circle and scratched at the fabric, looking for the most comfortable spot before settling down, curling himself into a little doughnut shape and resting his head on his paws.

  Meg sat down on the ground next to him. She patted her knees, and Chestnut looked up at her. He raised his head and gently laid it in her lap. Then he laid his paw over her arm, like a dog version of a hug.

  She leaned her head against the wall for a moment and absently traced the brindle stripes on Chestnut’s silky fur. Chestnuts roasting on an open fire . . . she hummed. Jack Frost nipping at your nose . . . Here in the shed with her dog, Meg felt peaceful and safe.

  Chestnut had fallen asleep to her lullaby. He snored softly, and Meg smiled.

  After a moment, he made a soft woofing sound in his sleep. His legs moved as if he was running. She wondered what he was dreaming about. Was he playing with Mya or tracking a squirrel? Chasing Meg or barking at trucks? She curled herself around him, breathing in the smell of his warm fur and puppy breath. She wished that she could stay like this forever. Here in the shed, there was no room for anxiety or fear. She didn’t have to try to prove herself to her family. She didn’t have to try to help save the farm. In here, she felt peaceful and safe. Chestnut was already hers, and they could just be together.

  Despite the musty straw, dirt floor, and wind blowing outside, the shed was cozy. Meg and Chestnut were snuggled together for warmth. She was going to head home soon—very soon—but first she just wanted to close her eyes . . . only for a minute . . .

  * * *

  Meg woke to the sound of morning songbirds, louder than they normally were. Her stomach grumbled as her eyes popped open. At first she was disoriented—where was she? This wasn’t her bedroom, and she wasn’t in her soft bed. She shivered and realized she was lying on something damp and hard. Her back hurt. And what was Chestnut doing here? The dog had woken up when she did, his tail wagging like crazy before his eyes were even open.

  Chestnut . . . not her bed . . . the cold . . . Meg jumped to her feet, suddenly wide awake—and suddenly all too aware of where she was. She was in the shed. With Chestnut. And it was morning—she’d spent the whole night there! Had her parents realized she was gone? Had her whole family been looking for her? She had to get home. Meg ran for the door but stopped with her hand on the latch.

  She turned back to look at Chestnut, who was up on his feet, looking at her with a confused expression. His ears were up and his head was cocked to the side, as if to say, Where are you going?

  Meg gulped. “Chestnut—I’m so sorry, but I have to go! I’ll be back. I promise.” She turned to the door and heard the dog whine. She squeezed her eyes shut. What if Chestnut wouldn’t let her go?

  Then she remembered what Colton had said.

  She had to make sure Chestnut knew that she’d always come back. She turned to look at him, and he started wagging his tail again.

  If only she could make Chestnut trust that she was always thinking of him—and feel like she was with him all the time. Meg squinted through the slats in the wall and saw that the sun hadn’t quite peeked over the horizon. She guessed it was about five o’clock in the morning. Her mom and dad wouldn’t be up for a little while yet. Maybe she’d get lucky—maybe they had fallen asleep early and not realized she was gone.

  Maybe she had just a bit of time to work with Chestnut before she went home.

  “Come on, Chestnut. Let’s go for a little walk.” The dog leaped up, ready and willing to follow Meg wherever she led. His tail was going like crazy, and he pressed his warm nose into Meg’s hand, looking for a morning scratch. She tickled him behind the ears and under his chin, and his mouth turned up in a furry smile. He let out a happy snort as he trotted over to the door of the shed and scratched at it.

  “All right, you,” Meg said. The door creaked, and he ran past her out into the gray dawn.

  The air was crisp, and Meg’s lungs stung as she breathed in the morning cold and exhaled puffs of steam. Several more inches of snow had fallen overnight. They walked through the woods for a few minutes, the crunch of Meg’s boots the only sound around them. Chestnut sniffed the ground, his tail straight out behind him as he searched for something. Suddenly he froze, his ears up and back, his front legs slightly splayed, and his eyes intently focused on something Meg couldn’t see.

  Out of the corner of her eye, Meg spotted a tiny shadow scurrying by. Chestnut barked excitedly and leaped like a bucking bronco, chasing a terrified field mouse that was running for its life.

  “Shhh! Chestnut—you’re going to wake up the whole town!” At the sound of her voice, Chestnut snapped his mouth shut and zipped back to her side. Meg giggled. “Did you have to scare the life out of that poor little thing?” The dog blinked at her, as if he could convince her of his innocence. She burst out laughing.

  Meg thought back to one of the dog training books she and Colton had looked at before she left. In the first chapter, the trainer who wrote it said that you shouldn’t make a big deal out of coming and going. Acknowledging the dog as you’re leaving or when you return will just increase his anxiety.

  Meg took a deep breath. “Chestnut, come.” He followed her back to the shed without hesitation. She opened the door, and Chestnut trotted inside. Without a word, she closed the door behind him, walked about ten feet away, and stood still, waiting. From inside the shed came the soft, sad sound of whining. Meg bit her lip and forced herself to ignore it. After several long moments, when the whining had died down, she went back to the door and opened it. Her heart swelled when she saw Chestnut standing just on the other side, his eyes full of worry. She wanted to scoop him up in her arms, but Meg steeled herself and, following the book’s directions, didn’t acknowledge or pet the dog. Instead, she left the door open, spun around, and walked away, letting Chestnut choose whether to follow her or not.

  Of course, he did. She walked back into the woods while he wandered nearby, sniffing to his heart’s content. When he was staring intently at some kind of critter scratching under a downed tree branch, Meg knew he wasn’t focused on her. She wanted to reward him, so she slipped him a treat and scratched him behind the ears. He glanced at her quickly, half wagged his tail, then turned back to his target.

  “Good boy,” Meg praised him.

  While he was distracted, Meg picked up a stick. She whistled to get Chestnut’s attention, and his head shot toward the sound. She held the stick out in front of her as he watched it closely, anticipation on his face. Meg drew her arm back over her shoulder, then threw it as hard as she could. It arced off into the trees, and Chestnut bolted after it.

  She smiled to herself. That hadn’t gone so badly. He had whined, but then he’d calmed down. He’d followed her but hadn’t been hyperfocused on her—he’d been interested in other things, as if he trusted that she would still be nearby.

  Chestnut galloped back with the stick and dropped it in front of her. She rewarded him with a treat, which he wolfed down in one swallow before pawing at the ground to tell her to throw the stick again.

  “Sit,” Meg said. He sat down and looked up at her expectantly. “Good boy.”

  He stayed seated but bobbed his snout up and down as he caught a scent on the breeze. Meg held out a hand to pet him, and he buried his nose in her palm, sniffing it furiously. Something she’d read in the book came back to her—that when a dog and owner are really bonded, the dog can sometimes be soothed by an item that smells like the owner, like a piece of clothing. She didn’t know if it would work, but it couldn’t hurt.

  Meg unwound the rainbow-striped scarf from her neck—the one her mom had knitted for her over the summer—and cro
uched down in front of Chestnut. She held it out for him to sniff. He ran his nose along the rows of yarn, inhaling repeatedly, then exhaling with a snort to clear his nostrils. His tail started to wag.

  “I’m going to put this on you,” she said. “It smells like me, so maybe you’ll always feel like I’m close by, okay?” Meg wrapped the scarf loosely around his neck. A frantic look in his eyes, the dog tried to back out of the soft but strange contraption around his neck. When it moved with him he swiped at it, getting his paw stuck in it. He tried to pull his leg back, but his claws were tangled in the yarn. Whimpering, Chestnut spun around in a circle on three legs, trying to undo himself, until finally Meg wrapped her arms around him to stop him. He was shaking as she eased his paw out.

  “Aw, Chestnut!” she said. “You’re okay. It’s just a scarf—it’s not going to hurt you.” She stroked his head. Chestnut blinked and sniffed at the scarf again, then stretched his face toward her and licked her cheek. Meg squeezed her eyes shut and giggled. “Thank you,” she cooed. “I love you too.”

  Meg threw the stick a few more times, giving him a chance to use up his energy. She chased him in a zigzag through the trees, then squealed when he turned around and chased her right back. Panting and grinning, Meg led Chestnut back to the shed. She filled his food and water bowl and sat down next to him on a blanket. He promptly covered her in doggy kisses and lay down beside her.

  It was getting late—Meg really needed to head home. Today was a school day.

  Her parents would be waking up soon, and she couldn’t put it off any longer. She stood up, and the dog whimpered. Meg took a breath and reminded herself that staying tough now would help Chestnut in the long run. But that was hard to do when he was gazing up at her with those big, sweet—and sad—brown eyes.