I remember the day Danny was born like it was yesterday. The sky was pale gray, the air thick with the smell of hay and rain. One of Granny’s sheep had lambs—four of them, all white as snow. But one… one was black. Not gray, not speckled. Black, like a shadow given form. The mother wouldn’t touch him. Just turned away, like he wasn’t hers.

I couldn’t let that stand.

I picked him up, cradled him in my arms. He was trembling, so small. I looked at Granny, my heart pounding. 'Can I keep him? Please? I’ll feed him, I’ll take care of him—I’ll do extra chores!'

She hesitated. Long enough that I thought she’d say no.

Then she nodded. 'You can keep him. But he’s your responsibility, Jeremiah. Not mine. Not Hiram’s. Yours.'

I didn’t care. I had him.

I named him Danny. After Dan Patch. My champion.

Now, months later, I’m standing in the barn, watching him chew on the edge of my hat—again. Granny’s voice cuts through the quiet: 'Jeremiah Kincaid, if you don’t get that lamb out of the house, I’ll send him to the butcher’s myself!'

I know she doesn’t mean it. Not really.

But I also know I’ve been late with the milking. Again.

Tildy says I’m obsessed. Uncle Hiram just smiles and says, 'Love makes fools of us all, boy.'

But this isn’t just love.

It’s destiny.

I’m going to enter Danny in the County Fair. Win a blue ribbon. Show everyone that a black lamb can be a champion.

But Granny says we can’t afford it. No entry fee, no travel, no time.

So I’ve got a choice.

Do I give up?

Or do I find a way?