It was just a few weeks after her surgery and the realization of what was done still hadn’t sunk in. The muscle pains continued even as the outer scars began to form. She stood there in the bathroom looking down at her stomach as a tear ran down her cheek. “I always thought I would have another…how could he still love me? I hate myself for this.” She thought. Her depression had been digging her deeper and deeper since the surgery. Every day, she woke up with the regret and the self-loathing of the absolute denial of a child she had been given. “How could he really be okay with this?” she kept thinking. “I’m not okay with this.” Despite Chuck continuing to try to reassure her that it was okay, that it wasn’t something that he would regret; Cheyenne continued to think it was all her fault, that it was something he might leave her for. “I blame myself…why shouldn’t he?” She continued to think as she agonized over that little scar that now appeared on her once smooth stomach. Even after Evelynn, Cheyenne had a perfect looking stomach; but in her eyes, the tiny scar destroyed her.
Brrinng…the phone rang, startling her. She wiped the tear from her face, clearing her throat as she walked over and grabbed her phone from her night stand. Before answering, she saw it came up as Old Man Miller on her caller ID. “Hello?” She turned to see that it was almost 10:00 am, “how is it all ready 10?” she thought as she half listened to what he was saying. “Wait, what? I’m sorry Mr. Miller, can you repeat that?...really? Are you sure? Ah…yeah, yeah I can do that. I’ll be down there in just a bit to see you.” She grabbed a dirty pair of jeans she had lying on the ground next to her hamper and quickly put them on, carefully buttoning them as to not pinch her still slightly tender incision. She quickly scanned her closet for a shirt to throw on, “hhmm, that one will work, I think” she thought as she grabbed a blue T-shirt. She ripped it off of the hanger and pulled it on over her head. Her hands slid softly over her stomach as she pulled it all the way down.
She picked up her phone again and tried to call Chuck, no answer. “Well, I can’t wait.” She muttered as she put her phone in her back pocket. She tossed her hair back into a pony tail, which had become her go to hair style these days; quickly brushed her teeth and made her way down to the kitchen. She scanned the pantry for something to eat quickly; a granola bar would do for now. She poured some coffee in her coffee mug; then, skimmed through her favorite part of the paper, the classifieds. Why she kept looking at it, she didn’t really know. They didn’t need any more horses, but something continued to call to her, “what if she missed a horse in need?” As usual, she didn’t see anything that caught her eye and threw the paper in the recycling bin.
She peeked outside to see if she could see where Chuck might be. She knew where he likely was, but didn’t want to go all the way over there. He was likely at the training track, getting the horses ready for their next race. The races had been a bit slow lately and they really needed to get the horses back into shape to start performing better. She took a deep breath as she debated what to do then saw a pen sitting on the counter. She rummaged through the junk drawer and found a small note pad and scribbled, “Went to Mr. Miller’s, be back soon.” Then, grabbed her purse from the couch and went out the door.
The day warmed up as the sun continued to rise. The neighs of horses echoed across the land as the horses grazed and the staff performed their daily tasks. Even a few high pitched calls rang out as the young foals played. A dust cloud rose from the ground as Cheyenne’s bright red truck approached the estate. She pulled up to the house and stopped. The door creaked as she opened it. She held it open for a moment grabbing what looked like a pile of blankets and her purse and quickly made her way into the quiet empty house. She tossed her purse on the couch and collapsed next to it, still holding everything else in her hands. Looking down she lifted some of the fabric, giving light to a thin little puppy curled up inside.
Her eyes were tired as she looked down at the little puppy. It squirmed as it gave out a quiet little squeak of a cry. The little white and tan puppy was barely a few days old but had already been rejected by its mother. It was scared and hungry; Cheyenne rubbed its little head lightly shushing it, to comfort it. “I know little one, I know. Let’s go find you some food.” She said softly, getting up to go find some ingredients to make a homemade puppy formula to feed it. She put the frail puppy down into a large shoe box she found in the closet. “Easy now, I’ll be right back.” She said as she tucked the puppy into its new bed.“Hey Cheyenne?!” Chucked came billowing into the house, looking for her; “shush! I’m right here.” She snapped back. “Oh, there you are. Where did you go?” he asked, “wait, what’s that?” he continued.
Without looking up at him, she answered, “Old Man Miller called me this morning. His dog gave birth to ten puppies a few days ago. This one was the runt…she rejected him.” She began to explain. “Oh?” Chuck listened as he looked down at the little pup that was now quietly resting. “Yeah, he called me and asked if I could help care for him. He said he didn’t have the time for it; he didn’t know what else to do, otherwise he was going to have to let it go.” She turned and finally looked at Chuck, “I just couldn’t say no. I hope you’re not mad.”
“Well, no, I’m not mad. I wouldn’t have been able to say no either, but how are you feeling? Are you going to be able to take care of yourself and the puppy?” He looked at her concerned, scratching his head. “Yes. Maybe he needing me will help me heal.” She hoped it was true. She didn’t like feeling this way, and didn’t want to admit to Chuck just how bad she was feeling. She wanted to put on a smile and pretend she was fine. They both knew she couldn’t hide her feelings from him, but she tried none the less. She poured the mixture into a small cup to try to start feeding it by syringe and started working with the puppy to feed. She and Chuck stood there watching, hoping it would work. “He’s really tiny Cheyenne.” He said as he watched her, thinking how badly things could go if the puppy died.
“I know. I really hope he pulls through.” Cheyenne said, as she concentrated on what she was doing.
“So, what breed is he?” chuck continued. “You don’t recognize it?” Cheyenne smirked and she continued, “He’s a Bull Terrier. Old Man Miller got a male from us years ago, this pup is a grandson of it I think.” She said with a hint of satisfaction. “Oh, that’s cool.” Chuck said smiling. “Well, I will let you be, I need to get back to the track. I just wanted to check on you.” He said as he bent down, kissing her on her head. “Okay.” She said, without looking up.
Chuck left the house with a deep feeling of worry. His gut was always right and something told him that this little puppy would either be a wonderful thing or a terrible thing for Cheyenne. He hoped for the best, but his gut had him fearing the worst.
Brrinng…the phone rang, startling her. She wiped the tear from her face, clearing her throat as she walked over and grabbed her phone from her night stand. Before answering, she saw it came up as Old Man Miller on her caller ID. “Hello?” She turned to see that it was almost 10:00 am, “how is it all ready 10?” she thought as she half listened to what he was saying. “Wait, what? I’m sorry Mr. Miller, can you repeat that?...really? Are you sure? Ah…yeah, yeah I can do that. I’ll be down there in just a bit to see you.” She grabbed a dirty pair of jeans she had lying on the ground next to her hamper and quickly put them on, carefully buttoning them as to not pinch her still slightly tender incision. She quickly scanned her closet for a shirt to throw on, “hhmm, that one will work, I think” she thought as she grabbed a blue T-shirt. She ripped it off of the hanger and pulled it on over her head. Her hands slid softly over her stomach as she pulled it all the way down.
She picked up her phone again and tried to call Chuck, no answer. “Well, I can’t wait.” She muttered as she put her phone in her back pocket. She tossed her hair back into a pony tail, which had become her go to hair style these days; quickly brushed her teeth and made her way down to the kitchen. She scanned the pantry for something to eat quickly; a granola bar would do for now. She poured some coffee in her coffee mug; then, skimmed through her favorite part of the paper, the classifieds. Why she kept looking at it, she didn’t really know. They didn’t need any more horses, but something continued to call to her, “what if she missed a horse in need?” As usual, she didn’t see anything that caught her eye and threw the paper in the recycling bin.
She peeked outside to see if she could see where Chuck might be. She knew where he likely was, but didn’t want to go all the way over there. He was likely at the training track, getting the horses ready for their next race. The races had been a bit slow lately and they really needed to get the horses back into shape to start performing better. She took a deep breath as she debated what to do then saw a pen sitting on the counter. She rummaged through the junk drawer and found a small note pad and scribbled, “Went to Mr. Miller’s, be back soon.” Then, grabbed her purse from the couch and went out the door.
The day warmed up as the sun continued to rise. The neighs of horses echoed across the land as the horses grazed and the staff performed their daily tasks. Even a few high pitched calls rang out as the young foals played. A dust cloud rose from the ground as Cheyenne’s bright red truck approached the estate. She pulled up to the house and stopped. The door creaked as she opened it. She held it open for a moment grabbing what looked like a pile of blankets and her purse and quickly made her way into the quiet empty house. She tossed her purse on the couch and collapsed next to it, still holding everything else in her hands. Looking down she lifted some of the fabric, giving light to a thin little puppy curled up inside.
Her eyes were tired as she looked down at the little puppy. It squirmed as it gave out a quiet little squeak of a cry. The little white and tan puppy was barely a few days old but had already been rejected by its mother. It was scared and hungry; Cheyenne rubbed its little head lightly shushing it, to comfort it. “I know little one, I know. Let’s go find you some food.” She said softly, getting up to go find some ingredients to make a homemade puppy formula to feed it. She put the frail puppy down into a large shoe box she found in the closet. “Easy now, I’ll be right back.” She said as she tucked the puppy into its new bed.“Hey Cheyenne?!” Chucked came billowing into the house, looking for her; “shush! I’m right here.” She snapped back. “Oh, there you are. Where did you go?” he asked, “wait, what’s that?” he continued.
Without looking up at him, she answered, “Old Man Miller called me this morning. His dog gave birth to ten puppies a few days ago. This one was the runt…she rejected him.” She began to explain. “Oh?” Chuck listened as he looked down at the little pup that was now quietly resting. “Yeah, he called me and asked if I could help care for him. He said he didn’t have the time for it; he didn’t know what else to do, otherwise he was going to have to let it go.” She turned and finally looked at Chuck, “I just couldn’t say no. I hope you’re not mad.”
“Well, no, I’m not mad. I wouldn’t have been able to say no either, but how are you feeling? Are you going to be able to take care of yourself and the puppy?” He looked at her concerned, scratching his head. “Yes. Maybe he needing me will help me heal.” She hoped it was true. She didn’t like feeling this way, and didn’t want to admit to Chuck just how bad she was feeling. She wanted to put on a smile and pretend she was fine. They both knew she couldn’t hide her feelings from him, but she tried none the less. She poured the mixture into a small cup to try to start feeding it by syringe and started working with the puppy to feed. She and Chuck stood there watching, hoping it would work. “He’s really tiny Cheyenne.” He said as he watched her, thinking how badly things could go if the puppy died.
“I know. I really hope he pulls through.” Cheyenne said, as she concentrated on what she was doing.
“So, what breed is he?” chuck continued. “You don’t recognize it?” Cheyenne smirked and she continued, “He’s a Bull Terrier. Old Man Miller got a male from us years ago, this pup is a grandson of it I think.” She said with a hint of satisfaction. “Oh, that’s cool.” Chuck said smiling. “Well, I will let you be, I need to get back to the track. I just wanted to check on you.” He said as he bent down, kissing her on her head. “Okay.” She said, without looking up.
Chuck left the house with a deep feeling of worry. His gut was always right and something told him that this little puppy would either be a wonderful thing or a terrible thing for Cheyenne. He hoped for the best, but his gut had him fearing the worst.