Brown Sunshine of Sawdust Valley (8 page)

BOOK: Brown Sunshine of Sawdust Valley

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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

A
s 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.

*Â Â Â *Â Â Â *

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 againÂ .Â .Â .Â 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!