Horses -- Juvenile fiction; West (U.S.) -- Juvenile fiction
Smoky followed Clint as he turned and went to where he'd left his
horse, "I wonder," says that cowboy, "if you've got the hunch that you
wont be seeing me no more till next spring?--that's a long time aint
it? but never mind old horse, I'm the first cowboy you're going to see
when spring does break up."
Clint was about to get on his horse and ride away, but he stopped, and
felt of Smoky's hide once more.
[Illustration: Clint was about to get on his horse and ride away, but
he stopped, and felt of Smoky's hide once more.]
"Well, so long, Smoky, take care of yourself and don't let anything
drag you down."
Smoky watched him ride away and nickered once as the cowboy went over
the point of a ridge and disappeared. He watched a long time even after
that and till he was sure Clint was gone, and finally turning went to
grazing back till he was by the side of Pecos again.
* * * * *
The winter came and hit the range with the average amount of snow,
freeze ups, and cold winds. The cayotes howled the hunger they felt,
for there was no weak stock to speak of for them to feed off of, and
outside of small varmints they could get once in a while, pickings was
mighty poor. Horses and cattle was and stayed in fine shape and the
stockman could hit his bed after the long day's ride knowing that he
could go to sleep right off and not lay awake a wondering what he could
do to pull his stock thru.
Smoky met all what the weather had to hand him, with a good layer of
fat, a thick skin, and a long coat of hair. He lost a few ounces but
he could of spared many pounds and felt as good, feed was aplenty and
the little pawing that had to be done to reach it was like so much
exercise and only kept his blood in good circulating order.
[Illustration: Feed was aplenty and the little pawing that had to be
done to reach it was like so much exercise and only kept his blood in
good circulating order.]
The winter months wore on, the ponies drifted from ridge to ridge, from
shelter to shelter and nothing much came to disturb the quiet of the
land, nothing much excepting when a big shaggy black tried to throw
in with Pecos, the same black that'd kicked the cowboy over the Great
Divide. But his interfering and butting in was welcome tho in a way,
Smoky and Pecos had so much good energy going to waste that they'd been
just aching for some excuse to use some of it for some good.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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