She held out the feed pan, and gritted her teeth when Tango gratefully ducked his nose into it.

She let him have one quivery-lipped nibble, and pushed the pan ingratiatingly toward the black muzzle beyond.
Jake was not a bronk.

Having "good blood" he was tame to a degree.

He knew Mary V very well by sight, and, if horses can talk, he had no doubt learned a good deal about her from his friend Tango, who usually came home with a grievance.

Jake accepted the feed pan graciously, and he did not shy off when Mary V pushed Tango out of her way and began to smooth Jake's crinkly mane and coax him with endearing words.