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.
CHAPTER 16
THE COMMITTEE ARRIVES
As 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.”
“His age is no problem at all,” Bigelow replied. “In England and other countries, kings are often mere lads.”
“Covington,” Oliver said, “what the crowd really likes to see is evidence of work done. And Brown Sunshine already has pull-markings over his shoulders, and light markings above his belly. The plain pull-markings are the greatest! They will make up for the shortness of his tail.”
“Brown Sunshine is definitely as tall as any work-mule,” Drew added. “A King Mule has to be at least fifteen hands at five years, and Brown Sunshine is fifteen hands at three years! And he’s twice as handsome. When he’s crowned King Mule for a Day, the people will go wild! But I don’t suppose mules can really feel a pride rising inside them.”
“Why not?” Molly asked. “They show gladness in different ways from humans.”
“You bet your boots they do,” Joe Henry said, his eyes remembering. “Once when I was in fourth grade, a horse and a mule visited our school. I had sticky hands from just finishing an ice cream cone and the mule licked my fingers long after the ice cream was gone.”
“I’d like to nominate Brown Sunshine as our King Mule if we, the committee, agree,” said Oliver.
“I do,” said Drew.
“Definitely!” Bigelow agreed. “We won’t have too long for this committee to fit the jewels into his crown. And only a few weeks to see how the Queen of the Parade takes on her role of crowning so young a king.”
“Probably,” Drew explained to Molly, “if you had been a few years older, we would have nominated you as Mule Queen! But since you’re only thirteen, we want you to be a member of the Court, and ride on the float with Brown Sunshine. Joe Henry Covington will be Grand Marshal.”
Molly clapped her hands and Joe Henry laughed. How could they have questioned this great honor for Brown Sunshine? It might never be offered again!
Brown Sunshine snorted a kind of relief when the visitors’ car turned out onto the highway. Joe Henry let out a wah-hoo strong enough to be heard by the members of the committee, and to draw a wild honking and hand-waving from their car. Brown Sunshine answered with a half bray, half whinny.
“Molly,” Joe Henry said, “it’s good we have a month of hard work ahead so we won’t go mooning about the glory of the crowning and the people shouting, ‘Brown Sunshine! Brown Sunshine!’”
CHAPTER 17
PREPARATIONS
Dear Diary,
Mom and I are in orbit! We’ve been shopping for a long queenly gown for me to wear to the crowning of Brown Sunshine. The one we finally decided on looks almost like a wedding dress. It’s white and floor-length with puffy bell-shaped sleeves. When I tried it on and looked in the mirror, I didn’t even look like me!
As Mom was paying for my new formal, the clerk pointed out a hidden feature. “Look here,” she said, “this gown has a lined pocket to hold the necessities—a compact, aspirin, a handkerchief, even one of those tiny lipsticks.”
Mom and I both laughed at the idea of all that extra baggage. I told her that I’d rather carry sliced carrots or sugar cubes in the secret pocket than all that other stuff! Then on the long drive home, she tried to impress on me the importance of being a “lady.” I’m not sure this is going to be fun.
But I faced a much bigger worry. What can we do about Brown Sunshine’s sad tail? It looks horrible, almost ratty! Especially when the rest of him is so handsome.
I out and out asked Freddy Westover. For once he didn’t even snicker.
“No problem,” he said. “Howd’ya like to borrow a false tail?”
“From where?”
“From my equipment for my show horses.”
I couldn’t believe it could be that simple. But it was! When we put on his false tail, it perfectly matched Brown Sunshine’s coat. He swished his new tail with abandon, as if it felt good and belonged to him.
CHAPTER 18
SPRING SHOW MULE CLIP
Molly felt sorry for anyone who wasn’t “behind the scenes” with Brown Sunshine on the day before his crowning. After she gave the mule a bath, her father was ready to give him a clean shave called a Spring Show Mule Clip. Mr. Moore was Sunshine’s barber, with the advice of Joe Henry Covington. With his thumb, Mr. Moore tested the sharpness of the buzzing clipper he was ready to use.
Brown Sunshine quivered in fear at the prospect. But he didn’t pull away. His trust overcame his fear.
The talk was in monosyllables.
“Where should I begin, J.H.?” Mr. Moore asked.
“Start down his cheeks and down on his nose.”
“Where then?”
“Shave twelve inches up from his chin, up to his neck.”
Brown Sunshine was not happy with
the talk nor with the noise of the clipper blade. For comfort, he licked a bit of salt from Mr. Moore’s palm before he felt the tickle and heard the buzzing of the razor traveling down his ears, leaving two tufts of hair on the very tips.
At last, it was over. Brown Sunshine was relieved, and pleased by the cool morning wind applauding the results. Mr. Moore rewarded his victim with a whole sugar cube, trying to make peace again between man and mule.
The next day, after Molly finished dressing in her long, white gown, Pops knocked at her bedroom door. He was holding something behind his back.
“Molly,” he said, “I learned long ago, in a creative-writing class, that a good newspaper reporter can take notes during an interview without anyone noticing that he is writing. You can, too.” He pressed a tiny diary into her hand. The small book had two handsome chestnut mules on the front cover and a small pencil tucked into the binding.
“Oh, Pops, I’ll report the whole parade!” Molly said. “Now I’m ready!”
CHAPTER 19
MULE DAY
Dear Diary,
I’ve never ridden in a parade before. Especially a Mule Day Parade. You can’t imagine the excitement of it. This bright red wagon with the yellow-spoked wheels is about to be pulled by two enormous Belgian draft mules. Brown Sunshine himself is standing tall in his reserved box, waiting, as if he knows that history is about to be made. He’s almost the same height as Joe Henry Covington, who’s sitting on the driver’s bench wearing brand-new bibbed overalls and a grin that spreads ear to ear. Because he will be busy waving to the crowd, Mr. Covington’s not doing the driving. John Robert Skillington, the famous driver of many Mule Day parades, is!
The excitement mounts. Three flags on our wagon snap in the breeze—the United States flag, the Maury County flag, and our Tennessee State flag. And banners on both sides of the wagon proclaim:
MR. JOE HENRY COVINGTON
GRAND MARSHAL
MR. JOHN ROBERT SKILLINGTON
HONORARY DRIVER
AND
KING MULE
BROWN SUNSHINE
OF SAWDUST VALLEY
CHAPTER 20
THE KING
Two whopper-size draft mules pulled Molly and Brown Sunshine’s red wagon to the starting place: the regal Atheneum. The building looked untouchable with its intricate cutwork siding and wraparound porch. In the growing audience, Molly could see Mom and Pops waving to Brown Sunshine. They were proud of him, standing like a king, observing his attendants: The Queen and her Court of Five, including his delighted owner!
The Queen carried the glittering golden crown on a pillow of red velvet to match the King’s red wagon. The band played “Seventy-Six Trombones” as she threaded her way through the narrow aisle of the float. When she reached Brown Sunshine, a member of her Court quieted the band. The Queen stood on tiptoe to place the crown between the two magnificent shaved ears, bringing the elastic cords down his cheeks and fastening them with a strong bow-knot under his chin. Now Brown Sunshine’s crown was a-glitter with rhinestones that looked like real diamonds and blue-green sapphires and red rubies—outshining every member of the court.
The crowd roared; the parade was about to start!
Entries surrounded Molly’s wagon. Directly behind her was a wagon filled to the brim with tiptoe dancers, or cloggers. And among the whirling dancers was Molly’s librarian, Elizabeth Potts . . . the very one who had helped her with her essay.
Sharing the wagon with the cloggers was trick-roper Wimpy Jones, towering above his fellow passengers at six foot six. Wimpy tossed his lariat out over the crowd, carefully controlling the size of the loops so he didn’t snag anyone in the audience.
Wagons with big and little floats continued to line up. An elegant all-gray hearse, drawn by two matching gray mules, pulled into the procession. The driver was a giant of a man, dressed in formal black with a wide black hat. The gray block of people bunched in the bed of the wagon were mourners. What more was there to know? Last year, the wagon and driver won the contest. This year, the judges were still deciding. But Molly didn’t want to know! Neither did Brown Sunshine. He was making snuffling noises of delight.
The parade began to move. They were on their way! The King’s float took the lead. Brown Sunshine carefully turned his crowned head to recognize a group of friends. They let out a wild cheer! And he replied with a loud bray, lifting his false tail as if every hair of it were his own.
The almost-noon sunshine shone like a spotlight above the bed of the wagon. And the King seemed to grow in height, in demeanor.
Long lines, mostly of mules, labored up the steep hill that winds through Columbia. The number of watchers doubled, tripled. People perched in trees, straddled housetops, and even climbed on each other’s shoulders to get a closer view of Brown Sunshine and his Court and the famous driver, Skillington.
Buggies and carts and wagons followed, drawn by little cotton mules, large farm mules, still-larger sugar mules, and mammoth draft mules. Drivers were accompanied by office-seekers from city and state and, as they rounded a bend in the road, by a cluster of kids eating ice-cream cones. The melting chocolate drizzled down their hands. Brown Sunshine perked up, swinging his head in the direction of the kids. He stretched out toward the ice cream, slavering. But Molly quickly reached into her pocket and offered him the sliced carrots she’d hidden there earlier. He wasted no time nuzzling her hand to find the warm, damp treat, and he kept licking, even after the carrots were long gone.
The two hours must have seemed endless to the pullers, but it passed quickly for Molly and the Court and the famous officials. They were busy waving and grinning to keep everyone happy.
At last they reached the fairgrounds, at the end of the hill, and Molly slid her tiny diary into her pocket. Everyone wanted to meet the proud King and the beautiful young Queen who had crowned the youngest King in the history of Mule Day, and to shake hands with the one-armed Grand Marshal and the famous Mr. Skillington. They all shook lots of hands. Poor Mr. Covington nearly got his one hand pumped off! Brown Sunshine offered his right forefoot, “shaking hands” with the people who smelled familiar to him. Most of the visitors seemed to be strangers, but then they started shaking hands with each other!
Suddenly Freddy Westover popped out of the crowd. He shook hands with Mr. Covington and Mr. Skillington, and then turned, eyes skimming down the Queen’s Court until they fixed on the last and youngest member.
“Molly!” he gasped, taking in her long gown. “Is it really you?”
She nodded, grinning, as Brown Sunshine lifted his forefoot to be shaken.
CHAPTER 21
HOME
As the crowd thinned to a few stragglers, Brown Sunshine suddenly felt his crown growing heavier on his head. Even the sparkle of the rhinestones seemed to be fading. And the wooden rails confining his body were like rulers, ready to slap. His tail seemed hampered, too, as if it knew that only half belonged to him.
Being a king was a one-day hurdle. The honors were packed into a few hours of beauty. It was as if he felt the brevity of his reign and was ready to go back to work.
* * *
Suddenly, the whole atmosphere changed. The red wagon was slithering its way out of the fairgrounds, letting swallows of new air flow over Brown Sunshine. He could hear the mules pulling. He could feel the fresh air washing his face, trying to loosen the tight strings down his cheeks and the knot under his chin.
Even before Molly had planted a kiss on Brown Sunshine’s forehead and left, Sunshine felt a new surge of life. He was home again . . . in his own paddock with his mother grazing nearby. He fell to his knees in the coolness of the grass, and then to his side. He was rubbed by the earth. He sniffed and rolled in contentment. Then he gave a full turn to his other side. He had never made a full turn before! Overhead he saw the deep blue sky holding a brilliant half-moon.
He squished back and forth, making full turns. He felt a strange new richness of life, as if he were just beginning to live it.
He could hear Molly’s faraway laughter, calling good-bye to folks and hello to “now.” He snorted and let the sound fade in utter homefulness.
Molly peered from her bedroom window to see Sunshine rolling in his pasture. She smiled. Taking out her new diary, she wrote: Dear Diary, Brown Sunshine has affected everyone’s life for the good. Even Freddy Westover is looking taller and wiser, and more wonderful to me.
I’m glad Pops gave me this diary. Now we have a record of Sunshine’s reign. I’ll read it to him whenever I want him to remember how famous he was, and is, to be King for a Day. I wonder if he knows how much he is loved?
Somehow, I think he does!
ALSO BY
MARGUERITE HENRY:
Misty of Chincoteague
A NEWBERY HONOR BOOK
King of the Wind
WINNER OF THE NEWBERY MEDAL
Sea Star: Orphan of Chincoteague
Born to Trot
Brighty of the Grand Canyon
Justin Morgan Had a Horse
A NEWBERY HONOR BOOK
Black Gold
Stormy: Misty’s Foal
White Stallion of Lipizza
Mustang: Wild Spirit of the West
San Domingo: The Medicine Hat Stallion
Misty’s Twilight
First Aladdin Paperbacks edition May 1998
Text copyright © 1996 by Marguerite Henry
Illustrations copyright © 1996 by Bonnie Shields
Aladdin Paperbacks
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