Saving Shiloh Read Online Free Page A

wasn’t the kind of question you should ask about anyone.Accident, I’m thinkin’, looking at her now. Nobody’d have a daughter like that on purpose.
    Shiloh starts dancin’ around when I put on my jacket and cap. He thinks we’re going to take a run down to Doc Murphy’s or somethin’, but I know that as soon as I turn right at the end of the lane, he’ll start to whine and go back. Surprises me, though. This time he goes halfway across the bridge before he stops. I finish the rest of the trip alone.
    I’m thinkin’ how when a man wrecks his truck and his leg both, and almost loses his job—his life, even—he’s sunk about as low as he can get. Dad says either he’ll hate himself so much he’ll decide to change, or he’ll hate the way other folks feel about him, and turn that hating onto them. Sure hope he don’t turn his hating onto me.
    I’m passing by the house of one of Judd’s neighbors, the family that took two of his dogs to care for till Judd’s better. I see the smaller one at their window now, barkin’ at me, but his tail’s wagging. Never saw any of Judd’s dogs wag their tails before.
    I get to Judd’s and have to knock three times before he comes to the door, and then I see I woke him up.
    â€œWhat you doin’ out this early?” he asks, hair hangin’ down over his face, his pants pulled on over a pair of boxer shorts bunched up above his waistband.
    â€œDad wanted me to bring over this squirrel stew,” I tell him, handing him the jar. “Thought you ought to have a share of it.”
    That pleases him then—as much as you can please a man you just woke up. “Can get some more squirrels where those come from—pick ’em right off the tree,” he says, and laughs.
    It’s then I know this is one big mistake.
    â€œWell,” I say, “actually, we don’t eat all that much meat. But Ma didn’t want the stew to go to waste.” Trying to be polite and honest at the same time is hard work.
    Judd quits smilin’. “She didn’t like it then, so you’re giving it to me?”
    Uh-oh. “No! She likes it fine. Just wanted you to have some.” Right this minute I am wondering what the difference is between a fib and a lie. Last summer, when Shiloh run away from Judd and come to me, and I hid him up in our woods, I told Judd Travers I hadn’t seen his dog. Didn’t tell my folks I had Shiloh, neither, and they claim I lied. What am I doing now? I’d like to know. Ma don’t appreciate those dead squirrels any more than I do. If I stand here and tell Judd Travers the naked truth, though, I’ll get my britches warmed pretty quick when I get home, you can bet.
    â€œWell, you tell your ma that anytime she wants some more, let me know. I can’t hunt nothing else, I can at least shoot squirrel.”
    â€œI’ll tell her,” I say. And I head back home.
    There’s somethin’ good waiting for me when I get there. Ma says David Howard called and wants to know can I spend the day at his place. His ma will be picking me up about eleven.
    â€œYa-hoo!” I say, throwing my jacket in the air, and Shiloh dances around, too; if there’s any happiness going on, he’s a part of it.
    â€œChange your shirt and comb your hair,” says Ma.
    I go into the girls’ bedroom where I got a bureau in the corner, all my clothes in it. I get out a sweatshirt with BLACKWATER FALLS on it, and put it on.
    Dara Lynn’s still in her pajamas—she and Becky. Got their paper dolls spread all over the bed.
    â€œWhere you goin’?” Dara Lynn asks.
    â€œOver to David’s,” I say. And then, not even looking at her, “Can’t wait to have lunch at David Howard’s: chicken salad with pineapple in it, pickles and potato chips, and a big old fudge brownie covered with coffee ice cream and