Brown Sunshine of Sawdust Valley (4 page)

When Mrs. Moore arrived at the neighbor's farm a few minutes later, Doc Winquist, black bag in hand, stood at the gate waiting for the pickup to grind to a stop.

He opened the truck door and set his bag on the floor. All in one breath he said, “Now compose yourself, Florence, and tell me all the symptoms so I can be ready to go to work soon as we get there.”

Her foot bearing down on the gas pedal, Mrs. Moore explained as the old pickup crow-hopped
along. “Molly loves this gentle mare. And I saw her rolling and thrashing in the pasture.”

“Yes, go on.”

“First time Molly's had a horse of her own. And now, just when everything is getting so perfect, the mare could die.”

“We'll not let her die. Colic isn't always a killer. It can be just a stomach ache. Has the mare been wormed regularly?”

“Yes, I'm sure of it.”

“Good! Has she been overeating?”

“I don't think so. But her barrel did look bloated.”

“It could be a gas pocket. Horses can't burp like people, so they get down and roll. Or . . .”

“Or what?”

“Or poor teeth sometimes cause indigestion. Oh, any number of things. Now I tell you what . . .”

The whine of a police siren interrupted him.

“Guess you're speeding, Florence. Pull over and let me do the talking.”

The officer got out of his car and slow-footed to the pickup. “Fire someplace?” he drawled.

“Yes, Officer,” the doctor said. “A mare with colic must feel like she's swallowed a firebomb. I'm Doc Winquist, the vet.”

The officer pinched off his sarcasm. He nodded to Mrs. Moore and shook hands with the doctor.

“I once lost a good saddlebred mare to the colic,” the officer said. “She had a twisted gut. Died because I couldn't get a vet soon enough.”

“Oh, Officer . . .”

“Now, lady, don't go jumpin' to conclusions. My horse was getting on in years.”

“So is our mare,” wailed Mrs. Moore.

The officer stuffed his pencil and pad into his pocket. “We're wastin' time,” he said. “Follow me.”

Siren screaming, the police car shot ahead to lead the way, as traffic melted into the distance.

M
olly's school bus pulled into the Moores' driveway just as the police car and the pickup roared ahead in a cloud of dust. Molly was first to leap out of the bus and run after them as they headed for the pasture.

When Molly saw Doc Winquist, she felt sick.
What could be wrong? Lady Sue was fine when I fed her before I left for school
. But as Molly rounded the corner of the house, she had a full view of the pasture—there was Lady standing up, looking all golden in the sunlight.

A flood of relief washed over Molly. She crawled through the fence with Doc Winquist and the officer close on her heels.

Suddenly they came to a full stop. Lady was standing directly ahead. Her tail was shifted to one side—exposing a bubblelike white bag.

Molly looked closer in terror. What was happening to her mare? Then she saw a tiny hoof stretching inside the white bag of her stomach.

Doc Winquist laughed with relief. “Molly! Why didn't you tell me your mare was in foal?”

Both Molly and her mother gasped in unison. “
But we didn't know!
” Molly's brain whirled with unanswered questions. How could she not have
known that Lady was in foal? Who was the sire? What did
he
look like?

Molly and Mrs. Moore stepped back to give Doc Winquist plenty of room to help his patient. Lady Sue put her nose to the ground and started to lie down, then she stood up quickly and changed sides.

“This is okay,” Doc Winquist assured them. “She's positioning a safe birth for the foal. Looks like Lady's done this before. That's why you didn't know. I'll bet you thought she was just gaining weight. This often happens with brood mares—and some humans,” he added.

In a quick moment, Lady made a complete turn to her other side while a long foreleg and a flattened nose escaped the bag.

The head appeared as Doc Winquist gently stroked the sac away from the dark brown, furry foal. He continued
to massage the sac away from the foal's wet face.

“Do all babies have such long ears when they're born?” Molly asked.

“Only if the baby is a mule, Molly. And this one is definitely a mule!”

“A MULE!” Molly gasped in disbelief. What would the rest of her small brown body look like?

In moments the beautiful form of the entire baby appeared, and there was no doubt that it was anything but perfect. “Oh, she's precious and she's
mine!
” Molly cried out.

“Only one problem, Molly,” Doc Winquist said. “She is a
he
.”

“I don't care. He's
beautiful!
He's even more beautiful than my Dream Horse.”

A crowd of kids from the school bus had gathered around to see the excitement. Doc Winquist was already in charge and the policeman stood with hands on his hips, whistling in amazement.

“How'd you get a mule, Molly?” one of the kids asked.

Freddy Westover closed in, howling in laughter. “You get a mule when the father is a jack—a donkey! Ha, ha! Molly's got a mule.”

Molly tried to gather her thoughts quickly. She didn't want Freddy catching her off guard. “I know, Freddy. I've got eyes!” She watched the sun glistening on the baby's wet coat. “Anyway, I've already got a name for him.”

“What is it?” her mother and Freddy and all the kids from the school bus demanded, almost in the same breath. “What's his name?”

Molly took a deep breath to clear her confusion.
“His name is . . .” Her voice stopped only a moment, then picked up with a determined look at Freddy. “His name is . . . 
Brown Sunshine of Sawdust Valley
!”

“But he's brown because his coat is still wet from the birthing,” Mrs. Moore said.

“I know, I know.” Molly ran her fingers over Lady Sue. “She's wet, too. She had her baby all by herself.”

Now a white Chevy curved into the yard and skidded to a stop at a respectful distance from the mare, who was nuzzling her baby, licking him from head to tail, identifying him forever as her own.

When he came over and caught sight of the brand-new mule, Mr. Moore bellowed his happiness. “Molly! . . . we each have our own animal now! The baby mule with the handsome ears is all yours!”

The school kids sighed in wonder and envy as they stumbled up the steps of the bus heading for home.

I
t was almost dark before Sawdust Valley settled down to an evening of quiet—the school bus doors had squeezed shut, with the police car in the lead and Freddy Westover heading for home, throwing his last jibe to Molly.

“Lemme know how much the auctioneer adds on to Lady Sue's price for giving you a freebie mule.” With a grin, he mounted his bicycle, made a double salute to Molly's mother and father, and winged his way homeward.

Dr. Winquist led Lady Sue with her wobbling baby to the stable.

“So,” he said, “you really didn't suspect Lady Sue was in foal?”

“We had no idea, Doc Winquist! I guess because Lady was so skinny when we got her, we thought the weight gain was just good food and care.”

“He was a complete surprise. That's what makes the little fellow all the more welcome,” said Mrs. Moore, “doesn't it, Molly?”

“Exactly!” Molly said. She was stroking Sunshine with her fingertips. The foal wriggled out of reach and out of step.

Soon his feet felt the touch of fresh straw, and he fell to his knees with an audible sigh. The watchers grinned one to the other in shared envy. Even the mare sighed.

Only Mr. Moore had a worry. “I wonder why the auctioneer didn't tell us that Lady was in foal.”

Doc Winquist answered, “Maybe he thought it would add a great deal to her cost. Or maybe it
would kill the sale for people who don't like mules, or double the price for people who do. Or maybe he just didn't know.”

“Still, we don't have the jack's history,” Mr. Moore said with a frown. “His owner might pop up and bother us for a great sum of money—if Brown Sunshine ever wins at a mule show in Nashville or out in California or right here in Columbia, Tennessee.”

Mrs. Moore solved everything. “Let's leave that for another day. Right now, Molly is ready to warm some bran mash that she made this morning for Lady Sue, and Doc Winquist is anxious to get a ride home after a long day. Pops is happy to drive him, as he has a string of questions to ask about caring for the baby mule.”

“And what will you be doing, Mrs. Moore?” the vet asked, laughing.

“I'll be fixing a fine dinner for Molly and her father—the proud owners of a newborn with long elegant ears!”

Dear Diary,

I'm glad I wasn't home until the
good
news! I would have been terrified seeing Lady rolling from side to side on the ground. Poor Mom! But she really handled it well, burning up the road all the way to Doc's place, then to the Jensens', then back. And what a surprise! What they thought was colic was Brown Sunshine ready to be born.

The first two nights I slept in the stable with Brown Sunshine and Lady Sue. I couldn't believe Mom and Pops let me! They actually suggested it—
if
I had Freddy's weimaraner Smokestack on guard.

Even though Smokestack belongs to Freddy, he used to come over on his own if ever Lady Sue or I needed him. Now Smoke is feeling more important than ever with a brand-new creature to watch over. It's unbelievable how gentle an eighty-pound weimaraner can be! He sniffed and snuffed his way slowly toward the stable as if he knew there was guard work to do. And then he sniffed and snuffed Brown Sunshine from head to tail. And Lady Sue let him do it! Now, that alone is proof that Smokestack is special.