"I didn't know much more after that, till now, I just sorta felt a weight on my back, and that was all. Maybe I got under Smoky somehow as we fell, but I think it's that fool cow that stepped on me and separated me from my thoughts.
"I'll most likely be all right in a few days, but I recognize this ailing. I got hurt a few years ago from an ornery black horse I was breaking for the Three C's, and being that I don't want this ailing to come back with me to stay, I figger I better quit riding rough ones. There's other parts of me that's hankering for me to quit too, and if you'll let me join the boys at the wagon, I'm mighty willing that somebody else gets my job here."
Clint was quiet for a spell, and then pretty soon he goes on, "But there's one favor I want to ask, Jeff, if you'll let me stay with the outfit, I want to ask that you let me keep Smoky in my string and as long as I'm with the company."
What the cowboy had just said come from what he'd figgered, thought out, and worried on, ever since he'd first set eyes on Smoky. Clint liked all horses, maybe a little too much, but even at that he liked Smoky still more. The fear that somebody else would lay claim to the horse'd had him doing some tall thinking. He knowed that as long as he was breaking horses his work would come with raw broncs only and all half broke horses would be took away from him as fast as he'd turn 'em out. Smoky would had to go too.
And that's where the hitch came. He figgered he'd have to quit breaking horses and go to riding the range, and take the big chance that the horse might be took away from him even then. He'd noticed how Jeff had stood, watched, and admired Smoky, and if signs of a human wanting anything right bad ever showed, there was never no signs more visible than Clint had seen on Jeff's features when the horse was in sight.
There'd been only one way out for the cowboy, and he'd took it.—There was a worried look on his face as he glanced at the foreman and waited for him to answer, but Jeff didn't seem to want to answer right then, and instead he asked:
"How long have you had that horse up, Clint?"
"Two months and maybe a little over," says Clint, wondering some at the question.
"Wasn't there a couple of boys here about a month ago to get all the broncs you'd started?"
"Yes."