“Think your pa will want to trade or buy any horses?”
“I don’t think so,” replied Jim. “We’ve got two teams that are pretty good.”
The old man led the last horse to the trough for a drink. It was the small brown horse that Jim had noticed at the end of the string. It wasn’t an impressive horse at all. It was very thin, the hip bones making big bumps as if they were trying to push their way through the poor horse’s hide. There was an ugly, partially healed sore on his back, and he limped slightly on his right foreleg. His coat was a shaggy lusterless gray-brown. It was hard to tell what either the tail or mane was like as both were so matted with cockleburs and bits of weed. Lastly, the little horse didn’t hold his head as he should, but kept it cocked to one side as if he were looking at something very odd and interesting. To most horse fanciers this odd position of the head would have been the crowning defect of the long list, but it was just this feature that attracted Jim. The pony seemed to be looking at him quizzically. As Jim looked closer he was certain he saw a twinkle in the horse’s eye as if the animal were trying to share some sort of joke with him.
Jim stopped pumping water and moved closer to the little horse. He was so painfully thin and that sore looked so tender that Jim felt a surge of sympathy. He wished the horse could stay there and rest. The object of Jim’s compassion lifted his muzzle from the trough, shook his head, and snorted until he had blown the water from his nostrils. Then he looked squarely at the boy and winked. This time Jim was certain the horse grinned too. It was very plain what the pony meant. He seemed to say: “Thanks for the water and your kindness. I’m rather deceiving in appearance and am in much better shape than most people would think.”
Walking around to look at the horse from the other side, Jim spied a mark on the pony’s left shoulder. It was an H lying on its side like this:
“That’s a brand, isn’t it?” asked the boy excitedly.
“Yep. I reckon that is the lazy-H brand.”
“Where did he get it?”
“Well, this is a Western mustang. The man I bought him from said a carload of cow ponies was shipped in from Texas a couple of years ago. He picked up this feller at the sale.”