One morning early in this spring month, while Belding was on his
way from the house to the corrals, he saw Nell running
Blanco Jose down the road at a gait that amazed him.
She did not take the turn of the road to come in by the gate.
She put Jose at a four-foot wire fence, and came clattering into
the yard.
"Nell must have another tantrum," said Belding. "She's long past due."
Blanco Jose, like the other white horses, was big of frame and
heavy, and thunder rolled from under his great hoofs. Nell pulled
him up, and as he pounded and slid to a halt in a cloud of dust
she swung lightly down.
It did not take more than half an eye for Belding to see that she
was furious.
"Nell, what's come off now?" asked Belding.
"I'm not going to tell you," she replied, and started away, leading
Jose toward the corral.
Belding leisurely followed. She went into the corral, removed
Jose's bridle, and led him to the watering-trough. Belding came
up, and without saying anything began to unbuckle Jose's saddle
girths. But he ventured a look at Nell. The red had gone from
her face, and he was surprised to see her eyes brimming with tears.
Most assuredly this was not one of Nell's tantrums. While taking
off Jose's saddle and hanging it in the shed Belding pondered in
his slow way. When he came back to the corral Nell had her face
against the bars, and she was crying. He slipped a big arm around
her and waited. Although it was not often expressed, there was a
strong attachment between them.
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