The Black Stallion

man looked at the boy in wonder and admiration; then he followed his wife toward the house.
    Tom's aunt and uncle had long since departed for town when he finished his supper. As he sat in the deep leather chair before the kitchen table, he watched the last rays of the setting sun rest upon the wooded mountains. The Queen had been fed and bedded down in her roomy box stall for the night. There was nothing to do now but wait—wait for morning, hoping the Queen wouldn't have her foal tonight while he was alone.
    He thought of his bringing the Queen into the barn for the night. Uncle Wilmer wouldn't like it; he'd said it was a waste of straw. And telling Aunt Emma that he thought the Queen would have her foal this week in spite of what Uncle Wilmer had said wasn't going to help matters, either. Not at all.
    Restlessly Tom rose from his chair and carried the dishes to the sink. As he washed them he found himself thinking,
I
hope I'm wrong. At least, I hope it won't be tonight. I'd like to have Uncle Wilmer around just in case something goes wrong. I'm afraid. Not for myself but for the Queen. If anything happened to her through my ignorance or carelessness
…
    Tom finished the dishes and put them away in the corner cupboard; then he went to the stove and banked the fire before returning to the chair and looking out the window again. It was almost dark now.
    Jimmy Creech told me what to do
, he thought.
He said he had full confidence in me. And Jimmy wouldn't put his faith in just anybody. He must believe it, so I've got to believe it, too. I've got to have confidence in myself. George Snedecker said I wouldn't have any trouble, either… That's exactly what he wrote in the letter I got from him yesterday.
    Tom reached for the letter lying upon the mantle just above the kitchen table. He read it again.
    Carlisle Fair June 21 Dear Tom,
    Jimmy is off with some of his old pals who are racing here, so I got a chance to write, like I was going to do all week.
    I wanted to tell you how well Jimmy is doing, because I know you been worrying about him, like I been doing. We don't have to worry no more. At least that's the way it looks right now. Old Jimmy is driving like he used to drive. He's almost picking up Symbol and carrying him! That's the kind of driving Jimmy is doing here. He ain't won no races yet, but he's gotten two seconds and three thirds, so he's paying expenses all right. But most important to you and me is that he's in very good spirits, acting young and happy-like, and getting a big kick out of driving. That's more like the Jimmy Creech I used to know.
    I wanted to tell you that I think you did it to him. You and the Queen. And don't you think for one minute that that man from Hanover Farms didn't meet Jimmy's price for the Queen. Jimmy just didn't sell her. He couldn't when he saw how you felt about her. Jimmy feels the same way about the Queen as you do, but when he got sick he forgot, I guess. You made him remember. Now he's looking forward to the Queen's foal like a papa expecting a baby. And it's done him a world of good.
    Like I said before, you did it. You and the Queen. So we're waiting to hear from you. And we know that our Queen couldn't be in better hands than yours. You just watch her, Tom. That's all you have to do. You won't have any trouble, and being good to her and loving her as you do is the best thing in the world for her at this time.
    It's getting late, so I got to quit now. We got a big day ahead of us tomorrow.
    Your friend, George Snedecker
    After folding the letter, Tom put it back in the envelope. If loving the Queen and watching her would take care of everything, as George wrote, then he had nothing to worry about. He went eagerly to the door and across the lawn. Perhaps he didn't need Uncle Wilmer at all. Perhaps he could do it all by himself, just as he'd planned.
    Upon reaching the paddock in front of the barn, he saw the Queen's head thrust over the half-door of the box stall. She whinnied and he went to her. He stroked her nose, then opened the door and went inside. He tried to get far enough away from the Queen to look at her body, but she kept moving closer to him, nuzzling his pocket for carrots. Finally he gave up trying to keep away from her and she pushed her nose into his pocket.
    As she stood quietly beside him he thought, maybe Uncle Wilmer is right. Maybe she won't have her foal for a long time. She's so calm, and not a bit nervous. I don't believe she'd be acting this