Brown Sunshine of Sawdust Valley (6 page)

Even Freddy Westover is “coming around.” He won't admit it to me, but I can tell from the way he talks about Mr. Covington and Brown Sunshine. Watching a true muleteer at work is changing his opinion of mules. He and Smokestack are spending a lot of time at our house.

I'm in seventh grade now. Today my teacher, Miss Spinks, asked me to stand in front of the class and read my composition entitled MULE DAY IN COLUMBIA, TENNESSEE.

“The class will please close all books,” she said, with an eye on Freddy, “and give close attention to Molly's speech.”

My knees started to quake till I got a good look at Freddy in the back row. At first Freddy showed his usual smirk. But then he was listening without a sneer, as if he was interested.

Miss Spinks peered over her half-glasses. “I want the entire class to see how Molly takes a subject she has researched at the library and makes a fine story of it, with a beginning, a middle, and an ending.”

I owe a lot of thanks to our librarian, Miss Potts, who helped me with my essay. I can still see her stacking a pile of books on how General George Washington brought mules to America, and how certain cities held King Mule celebrations that attracted thousands of admirers from all over the United States and Canada. She even brought a roll of newspapers flashing pictures of past Mule Day parades. As the stack of material grew higher and higher, the researchers sitting beside me wrinkled their noses in envy. But as I
studied the Crowning, I could easily imagine Brown Sunshine being crowned King Mule.

Gulping, I began, “For 364 days a year, the mule works for man.” My voice strengthened. “On the 365th day, man works for the mule. He puts on a celebration for all mules. It's almost as big as the Rose Bowl Parade in California and more important to me because it honors live animals and their work.”

The class settled down.

“The reason it's more important,” I went on, without even looking at my notes, “is that this festival crowns an animal that has earned his reward, and not just by being beautiful!

“In Columbia, Tennessee,” I said with pride, and thinking of Brown Sunshine all the while, “the most typical and beautiful mule is crowned KING before thousands of visitors from all across America.”

“Molly,” Miss Spinks got up from behind her desk to stand beside me. “I would like to hold up before the class this splendid illustration of your essay.”

I wished she hadn't done that, because all the kids were going to figure that I was her pet. I took a deep breath and continued.

“Our first President, General George Washington, made the mule popular in America. When the Revolutionary War ended, and the general returned home, he was shocked by the drabness of his land at Mount Vernon. So he turned his mind to scientific farming. He had heard that ‘Spain's enormous Catalonian donkeys sired fine work mules who were greater in size and strength than horses.' Besides, as he put it, ‘their cheap keeping was much in their favor.' General Washington tried several times to buy the Spanish donkeys, but with no luck. It was against Spanish law to export jacks.

“The news that the general himself was interested finally reached the King of Spain, who was so honored that he ordered two of the finest jacks in his kingdom to be sent as a gift. Although one
died on board ship, the other jack arrived at Mount Vernon in fine fettle.

“Examining the handsome jack standing on the piazza of his mansion one summer morning, General Washington said, ‘From him, I hope to secure a race of extraordinary goodness which will stock the country. He is indeed a Royal Gift, and henceforward that will be his name.'

“Within a few years, the general had mated several horse-mares to Royal Gift and gotten some strapping mules. They were so tough that he put them to work at an early age. Friends and neighbors shook their heads in amazement. How fat and sleek the mule kept in spite of his work! How he pulled and plowed and cultivated on the hottest days! They wanted mules, too. And so, before very long, the Virginia countryside was dotted with the long-eared sons and daughters of Royal Gift.”

M
olly's essay was entered in the Tennessee state contest. By the next spring it had won the regional competition and was entered in the statewide finals. Winners wouldn't be announced until school opened in the fall. Molly dared to be hopeful.

Meantime, Brown Sunshine had turned two years old. His training was now more serious. By summer's end, he was doing light work—hauling firewood to clear the Moores' land.

Also, Joe Henry Covington yearned to turn a little dirt himself. He figured that Brown Sunshine was strong enough and ready to plow a garden. Joe Henry even offered his walking plow to give Mrs. Moore a proper garden tool. But he knew he couldn't drive a green mule and handle the plow at the same time. He needed help, and was delighted when a changed Freddy volunteered.

“It won't be easy,” Mr. Covington explained, but Freddy was not convinced. Together they went to work.

Molly was furious. Freddy had taken over
her
mule and
her
job! Mr. Covington hooked Brown Sunshine to the plow. He drove with a single jerk-line while Freddy grabbed the plow handles. This made Brown Sunshine uneasy. After only a few rows, they snagged a root with the blade. A handle
flew up in Freddy's face and smacked him under the chin, making him bite his tongue. His world spun—both his chin and tongue were bleeding.

Molly ran to the house and made up her first ice pack. She hurried outdoors to find Mr. Covington holding his red bandanna under Freddy's chin. Mr. Covington took the ice pack, gave it to Freddy, and pointed to a shade tree. “Take this, son, and sit in the shade, over yonder, till the bleeding stops.”

Molly eagerly stepped in and took the plow in hand. Mr. Covington picked up the jerk-line and Brown Sunshine trusted Molly so completely that he moved off as if he'd been a plower for years.

The system worked so well that Mr. Covington and Molly formed a business going about the neighborhood, plowing and planting. Even Freddy joined in. He loaded all the equipment—the plow, cultivators, disc, and shovels—onto a big wooden “groundslide” to transport from place to place. Brown Sunshine pulled the slide with great enthusiasm, and the daily work gave an obvious satisfaction to Molly and her mule!

W
hen school began that fall, it was announced that Molly Moore's essay had won the state competition. Her achievement was published in newspapers across Tennessee. Molly was asked to go to Nashville to read her essay on TV, and to talk to the General Assembly on Youth Day.

Molly and her mule received a lot of attention and publicity for the upcoming Mule Day. The committee in Columbia took notice and discussed Brown Sunshine as King for a Day. For Molly, it all seemed possible, yet incredible. Her mother made a scrapbook of the news articles, and Pops showed it to everyone who came to the house.

Meanwhile, in midwinter, Tennessee experienced a cold snap for an entire week. One night Molly left the stock tank filled with water. She had insulated Brown Sunshine and Lady Sue's stall with extra straw, which helped keep them warmer but didn't stop the water from freezing. As Lady Sue and Brown Sunshine huddled together, Sunshine's beautiful long tail rested in the stock tank. During the long chilling night, he never even felt the clutch of ice forming about his tail.

The next morning, Molly sang her way down to the barn. With a cheerful “Up and at 'em,” and a slap on Sunshine's rump, she sent him wriggling forward without his usual freedom. He began squealing in panic.

“What is it, Brown Sunshine? What's wrong?”

Lady Sue was already outside but Sunshine was held fast by something. Molly looked more closely. Her eyes widened. His tail was frozen in the tank!

“No, Sunshine! Don't pull! Wait! I'll help you!”

With one fierce tug, Brown Sunshine escaped
the stall. But he escaped with only half his tail. He shook himself in bewilderment, craning his neck until he finally saw his stub of a tail. It didn't bother him at all! He was free, and ready for breakfast!

“You look so different without your flag of a tail,” Molly cried. “How will you show happiness with only half a tail? Will it grow back in time for the King Mule contest? Poor Sunshine!”

Now she heard the school bus coming, so Molly filled a bucket with fresh water and called in Brown Sunshine and his mamma. Lady drank it dry. Molly filled it again but Brown Sunshine refused to drink. He'd had enough of water for the time being, thank you very much! He turned rat-tail bone and went out to the pasture to graze.

A
s early as February, the smell of spring tickled Sunshine's nose. At the same time, the Committee for the Columbia Mule Day Celebration decided to inspect Brown Sunshine for the possible role of King Mule. They arrived at the Moores' before eight in the morning and were impressed to see Molly emerging from the stable with a clump of leathers over her shoulder. She was followed by Joe Henry Covington.

The members of the committee had already taken a look at Brown Sunshine grazing in a nearby pasture. One man immediately made his mission clear. “Molly,” he said, reaching out to shake hands. “I'm Drew Kent and these are my
associates, Dwight Oliver and Shane Bigelow.”

Molly, shaking his hand, replied, “Pleased to meet you. This is Mr. Covington. He is training Brown Sunshine and me to be a team.”

“Ah, yes,” Kent nodded. “Just the man we've been wanting to meet. We've heard how well you know mules and it just so happens we need a Grand Marshal for the parade.”

Molly and Mr. Covington grinned in pleasure.

“And we've come to consider Brown Sunshine for the role of King Mule.”

Molly sighed. “But Brown Sunshine has just turned three. He's so young. We've actually been working him for only a year.”