But now, it looked like Old Man Winter had come just in time and saved him from the bone pile. There'd been two weeks when the cold winds howled, whistled thru the cracks of the stable and shook it, and in them two weeks, the old horse had recuperated some till he was able to listen to the howling wind and feel the while that no equestrian would be showing up to interrupt the rest he was needing so bad. Every person around wondered when that awful wind was going to stop, but with Cloudy, and if he could of, he'd wished that wind would last forever. It'd got to be sweet music to his ears, and he dozed to his heart's content only to be woke up out of his dream to stare at a fresh forkful of hay once in a while. Then he'd eat a spell, listen to the wind some more, and on the sound of it, go to dozing again. May be dreaming of a winter range, somewheres, and far away. Pecos is by him maybe, while he dreams, then other ponies of the Rocking R, and on a ridge watching him is Clint--the only real friend he'd ever knowed. The winter months wore on and Cloudy begin to look like a horse again; then spring come, and the air that came with it got the folks to wanting to be out. One day the gray haired gent who'd rode Cloudy in mornings of the summer before showed up again and was picked on as one steady customer for the pony; then a few days later a young lady came to the stable who "just loved horses," and asked if she could get Cloudy every afternoon and whenever the weather was fit to ride in. The stable man let her have the horse once and noticing what good care she'd took of him, figgered her as another steady customer for the old horse. With her and the grey haired man showing up every day he allowed how that would be enough work for him, and none of the other equestrians ever got a chance to set on that horse from then on. A few years before, and if Cloudy had been the kind of a horse folks would want to ride, that pony would of been able to take on a couple more equestrians and stand up under the work easy enough, but now, he was getting too old for much more riding, and the stable man realizing that, was trying to make him last as long as he could. But Cloudy was getting stiff mighty fast along the shoulders and front legs, he couldn't reach out no more in the same stride that'd been his, and instead, whenever a front foot touched the ground for another step, it was like he was placing it on needles, and careful so as not to jar his shoulders and the rest of his body any more than he could help.