Louie’s mother said, “They came. They told us.”
His father said, “We’re sorry you’ve been disturbed. We’re taking care of it.”
Louie did not say anything because his father had placed a cautioning hand on his shoulder, but what he was thinking was, Your baby disturbs us! Your crying baby wakes me up!
Shortly after Mrs. Tooley went back inside her house, Mack walked up the drive. He looked as if he were carrying a heavy weight on his back.
“What’s the matter?” Louie asked.
“Claudine.”
“Oh. Again?”
“She’s breaking my heart, Louie.”
Mack rubbed his hand down Winslow’s neck and back. “I wish Gus were here,” he said.
Louie and his parents silently nodded.
“I miss him,” Mack said.
Louie and his parents continued to nod in silent agreement.
“I mean, I know protecting people and our country is important, and I know it’s selfish to wish someone else had gone instead, but I miss him.”
A sad and mournful and barely audible eeee-awe was Winslow’s response.
Louie was unable to speak.
It rained the rest of the day.
43
Something was wrong
That night, with the rain came the wind, powerful gusts howling through the trees. Twice Louie checked on Winslow to be sure he was secure and dry in his shelter. Thunder and lightning followed: sudden deep booms that shook the windows and sharp, bright, crackling light that lit up Louie’s bedroom.
Louie crawled into Gus’s bed and hid under the covers until the storm ceased and all was silent. He hadn’t slept long before he was awakened by the sound of Winslow braying.
Oh, no, Louie thought, not now, not so loud, not in the middle of the night. Mrs. Tooley’s baby will wake up and she will be mad.
The braying continued, louder.
Oh, please, not now.
The braying was loud and relentless. Louie sat up. Something was wrong.
Louie’s first thought as he reached the back door was that someone was taking Winslow and that Winslow was protesting.
Louie’s father was already in the kitchen. “What a racket! What’s going on?” he asked.
“Not sure, going to check.” Louie grabbed a flashlight and headed outside.
The yard and pen were muddy from the rains. Straw was blown against the wire fencing and buckets were overturned. Winslow was kicking his back legs against the fence, agitated and insistent.
“Easy, boy, what’s the matter?” Louie did not see or hear anyone. The gate was still latched. “What is it? Tell me.”
As Louie opened the gate, Winslow lunged at him. He smelled of smoke. It seemed to be coming from the garage loft.
“Dad! Dad!”
The donkey pushed Louie away from the garage and into the yard, where he turned to the Tooleys’ house and raised his head and brayed long and loud: EEEE-AWE! EEEE-ONKA-AWE! EEEE-AWE!
“It’s okay, Winslow, okay, shh, quiet now—” but then he saw more smoke overhead. It was coming from the Tooleys’ house.
44
Please, please
As Winslow continued to bray, Louie banged on the Tooleys’ back door. Overhead, the smoke increased, spewing from a hole in the Tooleys’ roof and from their attic window.
And then Louie heard the baby wail and saw lights go on upstairs and then downstairs and at last Mrs. Tooley burst out the back door carrying the blanket-wrapped baby.
Winslow insisted on nudging the blanket, murmuring in a small voice what sounded like please, please.
A flurry of sirens announced the arrival of fire trucks and within minutes the house was surrounded by firemen and ladders and hoses and water spraying through the air, lit up by streetlights in a yellow glow as the water arced toward the Tooleys’ roof and Louie’s garage.
Louie’s parents and Mack and his family and dozens of other neighbors gathered nearby.
“The storm! The lightning!”
“Must’ve hit the roof!”
“Lucky you got out!”
“How did you—”
“When did you—”
Nora came running up the street, clad in rumpled pajamas and a sweatshirt. “I knew it!” she shouted. “I knew something was wrong!” She put her forehead right up against Louie’s. “You okay?” When he nodded, she turned immediately to Winslow, wrapping her arms around his neck. She said the same to him, “You okay?”
Mrs. Tooley was still clutching her baby tightly and Winslow was still at her side, nudging her baby bundle.
“You!” Mrs. Tooley said to Winslow. “You noisy thing. You saved us.”
45
Boom-Boom
After the firemen and Nora left, Mrs. Tooley and Louie’s parents sat at the kitchen table in Louie’s house. Mrs. Tooley was weepy and dazed. “Louie, do you mind checking on Boom-Boom?”
“Boom-Boom?”
“The baby. Boom-Boom.”
“Um. That’s his name?”
Louie’s mother said, “He’s in your room. Mrs. Tooley can sleep there, too. You can sleep downstairs tonight, okay?”
Louie tiptoed into his room, wary of waking the baby, who was asleep in a portable crib that had been placed between Louie’s bed and Gus’s.
Boom-Boom had chubby cheeks and long eyelashes, and on his head a tangled curly blob of black hair that looked like a burnt cauliflower had exploded there. One tiny hand clutched a corner of the yellow blanket to his chin, and the thumb of the other hand was snug in his mouth.
You are the cause of all that loud crying? Louie thought.
Louie lightly placed his hand on the baby to make sure he was breathing. He could feel the baby’s warmth and the gentle rise and fall of his chest.
Louie wondered if there was a Mr. Tooley somewhere, and if there was, it must be hard to be away from his son, and it must be hard for Mrs. Tooley to be on her own.
And then he thought about Nora and wondered how hard it would be to have had a baby brother who didn’t make it, and a dog who died too.
And he thought about Winslow, who never knew his mother, and how odd it would be to be raised by strangers who didn’t speak your language.
Boom-Boom awoke, caught sight of Louie, and launched into a full-blown howl.
Immediately from outside came Winslow’s loud bray.
Louie lifted the wailing Boom-Boom and carried him downstairs to Mrs. Tooley.
“Listen!” he said. “The baby cried first, and then Winslow started braying! Get it?”
Everyone looked puzzled.
“Winslow is a protector. He is braying because the baby is crying. Winslow is alerting people.”
“Alerting people?” Mrs. Tooley asked.
“He’s saying, ‘The baby needs help! Protect the baby!’”
46
You’d be proud
The kitchen was a busy place the next morning. Louie’s parents were making coffee and pancakes, and Mrs. Tooley was feeding Boom-Boom, who was propped up in a baby chair, slapping his hands in cereal and rubbing it on his face and in his hair. Nora was taking it all in, having stopped by to check on Winslow.
In the middle of this, Uncle Pete clomped into the kitchen with a loud, “Hey, there!” He had heard about the fire, and he was making sure everyone was okay, but he also had other worries of his own. A coyote had taken one of the newborn lambs in the night.
“Terrible, terrible sight, what was left behind, I don’t even want to tell you. Blood and mess and traumatized sheep.”
Nora pressed a hand to her mouth and muttered, “Blech.”
Louie felt as if something had dropped out of his chest, down through his legs and onto the floor. He didn’t want to say anything, but the words came out of his mouth anyway.
“You need Winslow.”
There was a moment of complete silence as everyone turned to Louie. Even Boom-Boom paused, with his hand in
his mouth.
“Well, his mother was a good sheep protector,” Uncle Pete admitted. “My LGD.”
“Little Gray Donkey,” Louie said.
“That’s what Gus called her,” Uncle Pete said, “but it usually stands for Livestock Guardian Dog. In my case, I had a Livestock Guardian Donkey.”
Nora was staring hard at Louie. “You mean you could just let Winslow go?”
Louie turned to her. “Winslow would definitely make a loud ruckus if any critter tried to get near those sheep, right? He could be with other animals, and he’d have a purpose. He’d have an important job and he’d be good at it.”
“You’d be proud of him,” Uncle Pete said.
“And we could visit him, right?” Louie asked.
“Sure, whenever you want, every single day, if you like.”
“Nora, too?”
“Sure.”
47
The best donkey
That day, Louie and Nora took Winslow for one last walk up to the top of the sledding hill, where they sat and ate bologna sandwiches while Winslow munched grass.
“He’s a good donkey,” Louie said.
“The best donkey,” Nora added.
Winslow turned his head and gave them a long look before returning to his munching.
Louie said, “I talk to him all the time—not out loud—but in my head, and he listens, and—don’t laugh—but it seems as if he is talking to me, too.”
“I do the same thing,” Nora said. “He’s very understanding.”
Louie tossed part of his bread crust to Winslow, who gave it a sideways glance and returned to the grass in front of him, as if to say, “No thanks, I’ve got grass.”
“I’ll miss him,” Louie said.
“But we can visit him, right? Your uncle Pete said so—we could go whenever we want.”
“We could go every day if we wanted.”
“After school, we could ride bikes out there. Except that—”
“What?”
“I don’t have a bike.”
“You can use mine. I’ll use Gus’s.”
48
Settling in
After school, Louie and Nora walked down the road with Winslow and through the town and all the way out to Uncle Pete’s, where they reintroduced Winslow to the animals and to his new home with the sheep.
“Hey, there!” Uncle Pete said. “Want to help me with this?” He carried a tray with a syringe and vials. “Need to give that lamb its shots. Maybe you could hold it while I do that.”
“Or you could hold it and I could give it the shots,” Louie said. “I know how to do that now.”
“Oh! Really? Well, sure then, go right ahead. I’ll hold the lamb.”
“Or I could hold the lamb, while Louie gives it the shots,” Nora suggested.
Uncle Pete looked from one to the other, nodding. “That would be fine, just fine.”
When Louie returned home, his parents were sitting on the front steps, holding the mail. Louie’s mother waved a postcard.
“Guess who?”
The note was brief:
Hi, everybody—
News: Five days leave in July!
See you then!
Remember me?
Gus
Earlier that morning, Louie had thought he would feel infinitely sad on this day when he had to leave Winslow at the farm, but instead, as Winslow settled in with the ewe and her newborn lamb, and with news of Gus coming home, Louie felt that everything was as it should be.
49
The light
As Louie fell asleep each night, he saw a slideshow in his mind: scenes moving by, some slowly, some quickly, some merging with others. The parade of images was different each night, offering up people and places in new combinations.
He often saw his parents and Gus and Mack and Claudine. He saw Uncle Pete and the farm and Mrs. Tooley and her baby and a girl named Cookie. He saw an indigo bunting atop a golden sunflower, and he saw a thin man on a brown bench and a jacket-bear.
He saw Nora in her bumblebee coat and hat, and he heard her saying “I knew it!”
He saw a little gray donkey in his arms, and he saw Winslow with his mouth wide open, bellowing the strangest sounds, and he saw a lamb curled at Winslow’s feet at the farm.
One night Louie was awakened by silvery light pouring in through his bedroom window. The light shone a path across the room and onto Gus’s bed and the opposite wall with the painting of the boy and the calf.
He wondered if Gus was awake wherever he was and did he see this same light?
He wondered if Winslow was awake in his new home at the farm. Would the light be shining on the sign that Louie had added to Winslow’s pen?
Remember me,
Louie
About the Author
Sharon with Dove the lamb
Photo by Karin Leuthy
SHARON CREECH has written twenty-one books for young people and is published in over twenty languages. Her books have received awards in both the U.S. and abroad, including the Newbery Medal for Walk Two Moons, the Newbery Honor for The Wanderer, and Great Britain’s Carnegie Medal for Ruby Holler.
Before beginning her writing career, Sharon Creech taught English for fifteen years in England and Switzerland. She and her husband now live in Maine, near a farm where her teenage granddaughter raises sheep. “Our grandchildren have bottle-fed several orphaned lambs,” Creech says. “I was going to write the story of one of these lambs, but since our granddaughter wanted to do that, I chose to write about a donkey instead.” You can visit her online at www.sharoncreech.com.
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Books by Sharon Creech
WALK TWO MOONS
ABSOLUTELY NORMAL CHAOS
PLEASING THE GHOST
CHASING REDBIRD
BLOOMABILITY
THE WANDERER
FISHING IN THE AIR
LOVE THAT DOG
A FINE, FINE SCHOOL
RUBY HOLLER
GRANNY TORRELLI MAKES SOUP
HEARTBEAT
WHO’S THAT BABY?
REPLAY
THE CASTLE CORONA
HATE THAT CAT
THE UNFINISHED ANGEL
THE GREAT UNEXPECTED
THE BOY ON THE PORCH
MOO
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Copyright
SAVING WINSLOW. Text copyright © 2018 by Sharon Creech. Illustrations copyright © 2018 by Vincent Moustache. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the nonexclusive, nontransferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse-engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.
www.harpercollinschildrens.com
COVER ART BY VINCENT MOUSTACHE
COVER DESIGN BY LAURA ECKES
* * *
Library of Congress Control Number: 2017962817
ISBN 978-0-06-257070-3 (trade bdg.) — ISBN 978-0-06-257072-7 (lib. bdg.)
Digital Edition SEPTEMBER 2018 ISBN: 978-0-06-257073-4
Print ISBN: 978-0-06-257070-3
* * *
1819202122CG/LSCH10987654321
FIRST EDITION
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