I drove over to Charlie’s Truck Stop this past week to fill up with gas and to pick up some chicken soup and a few other things I needed. As I came within sight of the store, I saw a mule standing near Jake’s American Elm sapling in the grassy area near the railroad tracks. The mule was hitched to a small cart and was contenting itself with nibbling at the grass. I parked in front of the gas pumps and climbed out of the car, still gazing at that mule. It was a right fine specimen, sure enough. The mule was a chocolate brown with cream markings. It turned its head to look at me and I saw it had a cream blaze on its face. Jake came bubbling out of the store as he usually does and asked if I needed any gas. I thought about saying no, I had just parked here by the gas pumps because it was the best place in the county to enjoy the early fall weather. Instead I kept a civil tongue in my head and told Jake to fill ‘er up. Jake grinned real big and began to pour the gas to my tank. I asked Jake when he had bought himself a mule and Jake shook his head and said the mule was in no wise his own. It belonged to the Reverend Johnson who was sitting inside by the pot belly stove with Hermann Spencer and Ronnie Clayton. The Reverend has been taking that mule around about a month and a half now, breaking him in with that cart and getting him comfortable with farm equipment. This is just the first time the mule has been here at the store at the same time I showed up. I was all curious if the Reverend was planning to take up farming in a big way with his mule and I went inside to get the story. Jake called after me that I had spent nigh onto thirty dollars for gas.
The Reverend was sure over by the pot belly stove as Jake had said. He was drinking on a Coke and eating a bag of peanuts as I walked over. Ronnie Clayton had the floor and he was complaining how he was spending the weekend on exotic worlds fighting terrible monsters and rescuing beautiful ladies, then come Monday morning he is back at a factory job making electronic parts for automobile assembly plants. Ronnie leads a rich fantasy life. What the situation is that Ronnie is a not very successful painter in his spare time and he is apparently doing some sort of sci-fi painting for a book cover. He has dreams of one day getting assignments for cover paintings enough to quit his day job and paint book covers full time. I waited until Ronnie had run out of wind and the Reverend looked up and asked how I was getting on. I told him I was just fine and had been admiring his mule hitched up out front.
The Reverend grinned and said I must be talking about Second. The Reverend’s family had a mule when he was growing up and his name was Trixie. This mule out front is Trixie the Second. The Reverend is just calling him Second. He came from a Mister Robert Gridley who owns a small farm to the south of Corinth. I said I had met Robert back when Jake’s brother died. The Reverend saw an ad in the Corinthian that Mister Gridley had a mule for sale and, as he was hankering for a good mule, went to take a look. It was easy to see how the mule had come up for sale. Mister Gridley had not much place to keep the mule. He was confined to a small shed and had less than an acre of fenced in area to move around. Mister Gridley had bought the mule as a young colt with the idea of breaking him to pull a small wagon. Mister Gridley had it in his head to go riding with his wife and son on a Sunday afternoon. Trouble was the wife was not up to the idea of Sunday afternoon rides behind a smelly mule and the boy would rather pass his time with friends and playing computer games than sitting in a wagon bumping along behind a mule. The upshot was the Sunday afternoon rides never came about and Mister Gridley was looking to be rid of his mule.
Mister Gridley had a name for the mule at one point, but he had forgotten what the name was, so the Reverend Johnson had just renamed him after the mule that was in the family as he grew up. When I asked if the Reverend was planning to take his Sunday afternoon rides, he said he was of a mind to go riding most any time he pleased as he is retired and has his time for himself. That is how he has passed his time since Second came into his care. He has been training Second to pull the small cart, but that is not the reason he paid good money for the mule. What the Reverend has in mind is to break the mule to plow and start a garden come spring. He has already broken up the patch where Miss Nelda Ramer had a garden back when she was able to tend one. The Reverend is right pleased to how that mule took to pulling a plow on his first time out. Of course, the Reverend got him comfortable with pulling the plow by having him drag a log around for a couple weeks first.
I was wondering why, if the Reverend wants to grow a garden next year, he doesn’t just get him one of those popular garden plows. Seems that would be a lot less trouble than caring for a mule just so a person can have fresh tomatoes. The Reverend grinned and said cos one of them noisy mechanical plows won’t come up to you and nuzzle your belly asking you to scratch it between the ears, but mainly the Reverend bought that mule cos he wanted a mule. He has memories of trudging along plowing the family garden behind Trixie the First as he was growing up and of his brother trailing along behind busting up dirt clods with his bare feet. That is a memory that has lingered and he wants to do the same thing again at his advanced age. Besides, you can run a mule considerably cheaper than a garden plow, most specially with gas prices the way they are today. The Reverend says he has fixed up the shed where Miss Nelda kept her automobile and Jack Smith next door is letting Second run in his small pasture in return for fresh garden vegetables next year. The Reverend figures he is all set for next spring.
As I was leaving I paid Jake for the gas and it came into my head that having a mule to ride might be a fine idea.
END
