Ellery’s Twenty-Four Sheep

Ellery had counted the same sheep twice. The patchwork blanket seemed to have a secret fold for every number.

“Was that sheep number twelve or number thirteen?” Ellery whispered.

From the chair by the window, Sasha leaned forward. Moonlight made a pale square on the floor, and the blanket lay across Ellery’s bed in lumpy hills and valleys. Its squares were blue, green, and buttery yellow, with little stitched sheep wandering in rows.

“I think it was twelve,” Sasha said. “But I can’t be sure.”

Ellery looked at the blanket. “I want to find every sheep before I say goodnight. The count has to come out just right.”

That was how the game had begun, Ellery remembered. On another evening, Sasha had pointed out the sheep stitched along the blanket’s edge. Ellery counted them, then discovered more in the middle. Soon the blanket was not just a blanket. It was a pasture, and every sheep was a small, woolly puzzle.

Tonight, Ellery started again. One sheep, two sheep, three sheep. A blue square held a sheep with a crooked ear. The next had a tiny stitched smile. Ellery touched each one gently with a fingertip.

“Four, five, six,” Ellery murmured.

Then the blanket puckered near the middle. A fold covered part of a green patch. Ellery lifted the fold and found a sheep looking out from underneath.

“Seven!”

But when Ellery followed the row, the crooked-eared sheep appeared again. Had it been number three? Or was this a different sheep with an ear just like it?

Ellery’s eyebrows drew together. “I’ve counted that one already.”

“Maybe,” Sasha said. “The blanket moved.”

Ellery smoothed the fabric, but one hand made a new wrinkle while the other flattened an old one. The sheep seemed to trade places whenever the blanket shifted.

For a moment, Ellery wanted to give up and say goodnight with no number at all. Then a patch of moonlight reached the bedspread, and Ellery noticed something: the sheep were arranged in neat lines, even where the blanket bunched up.

“Wait,” Ellery said. “They have rows!”

Sasha stood and came to the bedside. “Then we can count one row at a time.”

Ellery sat up straight. The rows were easier to see now: four long lines of sheep, though the folds bent them like paths over little hills.

“We’ll smooth just the first row,” Ellery said. “You hold the edge so the other rows don’t slide.”

Sasha pinched the blanket’s top corner between two fingers. Ellery spread one palm over the first line and pressed gently from left to right. A wrinkle flattened. The sheep stayed in place, and the rows below did not budge.

“Ready?” asked Sasha.

“Ready.”

Together they pointed along the first row. “One, two, three, four, five, six.”

Ellery placed a finger beside the last sheep. “Six in the first row. We’ll leave that row alone now.”

They moved down to the second. Sasha held the edge again while Ellery smoothed only the next line. This row had a deep fold near the middle. For a moment, two sheep looked like one, their stitched backs tucked together.

Ellery paused. “I can see a little ear under there.”

With one careful swipe, Ellery opened the fold. There were the two sheep, side by side, each with its own tiny face.

“Not one sheep pretending to be two,” Sasha said. “Two sheep being themselves.”

Ellery grinned. They pointed without losing their place. “One, two, three, four, five, six.”

“Twelve altogether,” Sasha said.

The third row was easier. Ellery kept one fingertip beside the last sheep in the second row, then started fresh below it. “One, two, three, four, five, six.” Eighteen.

Only the bottom row remained. The blanket had gathered there in a soft bunch. Ellery looked at the last sheep already counted, then at the row still hidden in the folds.

“What if we lose our place?” Ellery asked.

“We know where each row begins,” Sasha replied. “And I’m right here.”

Ellery guided the fabric flat. A small sheep appeared, then another, until all six stood in view. Together they counted them slowly, from one to six.

“Four rows of six,” Sasha said. “Twenty-four sheep.”

“Twenty-four,” Ellery said, satisfied. “That’s just right.”

Sasha let go of the blanket’s corner. The sheep rested in their stitched green and blue pastures.

“Now the blanket can do its blanket job,” Sasha said.

Ellery nodded. The counting game was finished, but the sheep did not have to go anywhere. They could stay right where they were while the room grew quiet around them.

Ellery and Sasha lifted the blanket together and spread it over the bed. A little hill rose near Ellery’s knees, and a valley dipped beside the pillow.

Ellery looked toward the window. The moonlit patch on the floor rested below the sill, still and pale. Sasha returned to the chair and pulled a small book onto their lap, ready to sit nearby while Ellery got comfortable.

Ellery chose one sheep to be the last one seen before closing their eyes. It was near the corner, a little sheep with one crooked ear and a stitched smile. Ellery had met it early in the count, and now it seemed like a good one to say goodnight to.

“Goodnight, crooked ear,” Ellery whispered.

Sasha turned a page without a sound. Ellery watched the chosen sheep while the room grew still. The last sheep’s stitched smile stayed in view as Ellery’s eyelids lowered.