Page 77 of A Furever Home
Chili lay resplendently across my feet—her new favorite spot.
Arthur and Cheyenne were out walking with Sadie and Twain. Now that Sadie was settling in, Arthur had decided she could use leash training, and Twain was good doggie company.
Sadie did best with another dog to model calm behavior.
At odd moments, I saw signs the little white dog was growing attached to Cheyenne—almost like she understood my sister was her savior—but Sadie was still skittish and nippy when suddenly approached.
But in the backyard with Arthur’s three pooches? Doggie heaven.
I worried about Cheyenne taking on too much, or getting bitten, but Arthur was guiding her step by step, and I saw how it steadied Cheyenne to be strong for someone else, even a small dog. I couldn’t imagine how my sister must feel, waiting for her life to be decided by older people she didn’t trust. God, I was proud of her, though. No whining, no hiding in her room, just chin up and shoulders back and keeping on going.
Along with training Sadie, Cheyenne was doing a lot of housework.
A lot.
My house had never sparkled this much—at least since I’d begun the daycare.
Meals were pretty sweet as well. Her cooking even meant more stolen moments for me with Arthur. Between his work at the shelter and the daycare for me, and mentoring Cheyenne, we didn’t have a ton of extra time. I treasured that last hour after Cheyenne went to bed, when I could duck into Arthur’s room and be his boyfriend and nothing else, and let the world run without us for a little while?—
Wham! Wham!
Pounding on the door came so loud Chili leapt up.
The racket jolted me out of my reverie.
Shit.
Eb came skittering into the dining room.
Double shit.
I grabbed my cell phone and, out of an abundance of caution, sent Arthur a text.
Don’t come home until I text it’s safe.
As the pounding continued, I forced a grin at the dogs. “Let’s go to Arthur’s room, kids!”
My fake joviality had Chili trotting along, but Eb appeared skeptical.
“No, really, everything’s fine.”
Still more pounding.
Finally, Eb followed me as well.
And, of course, I slammed the door in their faces, closing them in. As much as I would appreciate Eb’s company and support, I wasn’t going to risk Arthur’s dogs. I’d seen Denver kick a baby calf once. Not letting Chili near his boots.
The pounding was unrelenting. The noise set my teeth on edge and I was sweating. I’d forgotten how much I hated my brothers.
Call the cops or?—
A shout. “Cheyenne, get the fuck out here!”
Is that Denver’s voice? It sounded like him. I didn’t want to confront my brother in front of the neighborhood, but I wasn’t certain I wanted the cops showing up either. And letting him escalate would not endear me to anyone. So much for being a boring neighbor.
Mentally apologizing to everyone in the vicinity, I opened the front door. “Denver, she’s not?—”
Shit.
