The Measure of a Mule

The summer haze settled over the valley, thick as molasses. On the edge of town, Widow Clara’s barn leaned like a tired ol’ man, and her mule, Rusty, had kicked another hole in the wall.

Clara, gray hair tied in a bun, stood with hands on her hips, glaring at the beast. “That mule’s stubborn as sin,” she muttered to young Ellie Tate, who’d stopped by to drop off peach preserves.

Ellie, sixteen and wiry, scratched Rusty’s ears. “He’s just got spirit, Miss Clara. My pa says a mule’s worth ain’t in how smooth he walks, but how true he pulls.”

Clara snorted. “Fancy talk don’t fix barns, child.”

But Ellie, with her daddy’s knack for critters, had an idea. She’d seen Rusty haul logs for ol’ man Jenkins, strong, but ornery when pushed.

“Lemme try something,” she said.

The next morning, Ellie showed up with a sack of carrots and her brother’s Hohner. She didn’t yank Rusty’s reins or holler.

Instead, she sat on a stump, played a soft tune, and tossed him a carrot. Rusty snorted, then ambled over, munching.

By noon, she had him hauling planks from the lumberyard, slow but steady, while she hummed. Clara watched, jaw slack.

“How’d you tame that devil?”

“Ain’t about taming,” Ellie said. “You don’t fix a mule by breaking him. You find his rhythm and pull together. Like Pa says, ‘A fence doesn’t stand tall if you just pound the posts harder.’”

Clara raised an eyebrow but let Ellie keep at it. Over the week, Rusty and Ellie patched the barn, one plank at a time.

Townsfolk started gathering, offering nails or lemonade, marveling at the girl and her mule. Even ol’ Jenkins, who never parted with a dime, brought a bucket of paint.

“Reckon this barn’ll outlast me,” he grunted.

By Saturday, the barn stood straight, and Rusty grazed contentedly. Clara invited the town for a barbecue, her way of thanking Ellie.

As fireflies danced and banjos twanged, Clara pulled Ellie aside. “You taught me something, girl. I’ve been pushing life too hard, like I could whip it into shape. But you and that mule, you showed me it’s about listening not forcing.”

Ellie grinned, tossing Rusty another carrot. “Just gotta know what pulls true, Miss Clara.”

Under the stars, the valley felt a little closer, bound by a girl’s quiet wisdom and a mule’s stubborn heart.