“Well, anyway, Smoky, I’m glad to see that you’ve got a mighty fine winter range to run on; with all the feed I see here and the shelter that’s with it you hadn’t ought to lose an ounce of fat,” Clint felt for the pony’s ribs and grinning resumed, “and if you ever get any fatter than you are now you’ll be plum worthless.”
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 won’t be seeing me no more till next spring?—That’s a long time ain’t 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.
“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 a plenty 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 though 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.
It came about that the big black had took a liking to Pecos, and at the same time a dislike for Smoky. Pecos was neutral for a while and wondered what the black was up to when he tried to chase Smoky away from him. Smoky wouldn’t chase worth a nickel but he was getting skinned up considerable a trying to hold his ground. Things went on that way for a day or so and every once in a while the black made a dive for Smoky like he was going to tear him to pieces.—His intentions was good, but Smoky sure was no invalid. When the snow settled again where he’d held his ground the little horse hadn’t give away one inch.
But the black was twice as old as Smoky, more up to the game of fighting, and heavier by a hundred pounds. All that begin to tell on the mouse colored hide, and there might of come a time when Smoky would of had to hightail it, only, as the scraps was repeated off and on, Pecos begin to notice and realize that that black was taking too much territory, and he didn’t like him nohow.
So, that’s how come, that when the black put down his ears and made another grand tearing rush for Smoky, that something struck him from the off side and upset him and his plans of attack all to pieces. He found hisself jerked off his feet and rolled plum over the top of Smoky and he lit head first on the other side. When he picked himself up out of the snow his spirits was dampened some in wonder, and more so when he shook his head and was able to see and noticed that there was two mighty vicious looking ponies a waiting for him to come again. He shook his head once more at that, and as Smoky and Pecos bowed their necks and came his way the black turned tail and started a looking for other company and which would appreciate him more.
But whether it was orneriness or just plain thick headedness, the black tried to butt in again the next day; maybe he just wasn’t convinced. Anyway, Pecos noticed him first and before the black could even get to Smoky. War was started right there, but Pecos was no match for the black and even though he wasn’t for quitting, the worst of the battle was on his side. It was about when the crusted snow was flying the thickest that Smoky, who’d been off a ways, noticed the commotion. He seen his pardner down on his knees and the black a chewing away on him, and right about then the standing Smoky was transformed into a eleven hundred pound bombshell. The explosion came as he connected with the black and then black fur begin to fly and soar up above.—Somehow or other the black managed to gather enough of his scattered senses to know what had happened; them senses told him to act, and act quick, and he did. He tore himself away from the pressing, tearing mixture of flying hoofs and sharp teeth
