Weeks had passed since Smoky had raised his head out of the hollow in the snow and spotted the rider, who’d been Clint, coming onto him; and then one day, here comes another rider. Smoky had been the first to spot that other rider, and as was natural him and the rest of the bunch made tracks away from there and till the rider couldn’t be seen no more.
A mile or so on, the bunch went to pawing snow and grazing again. Night was coming on, a wind was raising, and pretty soon light flakes of snow begin to come. Then, when night was well on, and as the wind got stronger and the snow heavier, the rider showed up again, right in the middle of the bunch this time and before Smoky or any of the others could see him. The ponies scattered like a bunch of quail at the sight of him and so close, but they soon got together again, and on a high lope went along with the storm.
The rider followed on after ’em, and as mile after mile of snow covered country was left behind, the ponies realized there was no dodging him. Heavy drifts was lunged into and hit on a high run as they tried to leave him behind, and then as they’d cross creek bottoms a mile or so wide, and where the snow was from two to three feet deep, the run begin to tell on ’em. They finally slowed down to a trot, and as the rider wasn’t pressing ’em any, there came a time when going at a walk seemed plenty fast. They was getting tired.
The night wore on with ’em a traveling that way. The heavy wind pushed ’em on and their long hair was matted with snow, but tired, and hard as the deep snow was to buck thru, it all seemed better to drift on that way than stand still in such as the storm had turned out to be. They drifted on, not minding the rider much no more. Then after a while it begin to get light, slow and gradual; the new day come, and the rider, finding a thick patch of willows, let the ponies drift in the shelter. He tried to look on the back trail as he let ’em drift, and he grinned as the thick stinging snow blurred his view.
“That old blizzard will sure do the work of covering up my trail,” he remarked as he looked for a sheltered spot amongst the willows.
He soon found the sheltered spot and where the wind was more heard than felt; and getting off his tired horse begin tamping himself a place where he could move around a little and not have the snow up to his waist. He tied his horse up where he’d be within easy reach, and soon had a fire started out of dead willow twigs. Rice and jerky was cooked in a small lard bucket, and et out of the same. When that was gone, a few handfuls of snow was melted in the same bucket and coffee was made. Then a cigarette was rolled, a few puffs drawed out of it, and the man, curled up by the fire, was soon asleep.
All of him, from the toe to his gunny sack covered boots to the dark face which showed under the wore out black hat, pointed out as the man being a halfbreed of Mexican and other blood that’s darker; and noticing the cheap, wore out saddle, the ragged saddle blanket on a horse that should of had some chance to feed instead of being tied up, showed that he was a halfbreed from the bad side, not caring, and with no pride.
He slept, feeling sure that no rider would be on his trail in this kind of weather; for the trail he’d made was wiped out and covered over near as soon as he made it, and as for the horses he’d stole, he knowed they wouldn’t be facing this storm and trying to go back; they’d be more for staying in shelter instead and try to find something to eat.
Seventeen head of Rocking R saddle stock, counting Smoky, was half a mile or so further down the creek bottom from where the halfbreed was sleeping. They hugged the thick willows for the shelter they’d give, and feed off the small green branches, the rye grass, and everything they could reach which they could chew on. Smoky and Pecos, side by side, rustled on thru the deep snow, sometimes ahead and sometimes behind the other horses, all a nosing around or pawing for whatever little feed could be found. But many cattle had been there ahead of ’em, and when darkness came on they showed near as drawed as they’d been that morning.
The snowing had let up some during the day, but as night drawed near the wind got stronger. The snow was drifting, and there’d be another night of travel when no trail would be left to show.
The breed woke up, looked around and grinned, then got up and shook himself. The fire was started again, another bait was cooked and consumed, and after all was gathered, he mounted his horse and went to looking for the ponies he’d left to graze down the creek bottom. He run onto ’em a couple of miles further an’ where he’d figgered they’d be; and as dark settled over the snow covered range, he fell in behind ’em and started ’em on the way.
An hour or so of traveling, and then Smoky, who was in the lead, found himself between the wings of a corral, a corral that was made of willows and well hid. The breed had built it for his purpose, and signs showed that it’d been used
