Smoky, the cow horse

by Will James

"Going to make this old broke-down cowboy ride this morning, huh?"

And Smoky did. He bogged his head soon as Clint was well set, and bucked and bellered all over the flat like he was a man eating outlaw. It was the right thing for a live horse to do them cold fall mornings, and Clint was enjoying fanning the dust off Smoky's round rump the same as that pony enjoyed the idea that he sure was giving somebody a tossing.

"Better save some of that," says Clint as he finally pulled Smoky's head up, "cause you might need all the energy you got before you get back."

About twelve miles or so from camp a knoll was reached; from there Jeff "scattered" his riders to circle and comb the country on the way back, Clint and another rider was the last to be let go, and on the "inside" brought with 'em all the cattle they found. Half ways back to camp, Smoky begin to notice big dusts on both sides of him, them dusts kept a getting closer and closer till pretty soon he begin to see that it was more cattle making them dusts. Herds kept a being drove in with the bunch Clint and the other rider had rounded up, and by the time camp was reached, all the dusts had throwed in and made one. Twenty or more riders and over a thousand head of cattle was turned to the cutting grounds and held there a milling.

Smoky was tired, he'd been breathing dust and turning bleary-eyed critters till it seemed like there'd be no end. Besides it felt awful hot on his back where the saddle was, and even tho Clint often got off, uncinched the saddle and raised it so the cool air could circulate thru, it wasn't long when his back, not used to long saddling, would feel as hot as ever again.

It was a great relief to the little horse when the saddle was pulled off as they reached camp and the rope corral. Clint then led him to the creek and washed the dry sweat off his back with the cool water, and as that was done Smoky right away forgot the work of that first circle. He felt a lot at ease with everything in general as Clint turned him loose in the corral, and a while later when fresh horses was caught and ropes begin sailing again, Smoky wasn't for hunting a hole like the times before, he felt that he'd done his.—Pecos was snared while standing a few feet from him, and then the ponies was turned loose. But there Smoky lagged behind a little; he'd spotted Clint who was saddling another horse, and he stood in his tracks, watching, and maybe wondering. Then the wrangler came, and Smoky followed the remuda up the draw.

Plenty of grass, under, and all around him, and chance to stand still was for the first time appreciated by the mouse colored gelding. He'd had a taste of real work, the first taste, and with it had come the feeling that he wasn't no half broke bronc no more. He was even beginning to look at the critter with a knowing eye and something was sprouting up in him which left no doubt but what he was the boy that could handle 'er.

He never figgered on how much there was to learn in the ways of handling that split-hoofed range animal,—he'd had no way to know as yet, and as it was he grazed feeling sure that he knowed a lot about 'em. He felt equal to the old saddle marked cowhorses that was in the same remuda and he wouldn't have nothing to do with the raw broncs that was mixed in. But there that high opinion of himself was stopped, for the old cowhorses wouldn't let him associate with 'em and as they'd chase him away, he failed to notice that they felt the same about him as he did about the uneddicated raw broncs.

But then, credit had to be handed to the little horse on account that even tho he still had a powerful lot to learn, he sure was all for learning, and the pride he'd naturally took in the game along with the coaching of such a cowboy as Clint all promised that he'd sure get there.

Smoky watched every herd that came in, followed the wagon on its everyday move, and was even getting used to them ropes that sung over his head three or four times a day. Of course Clint was always on hand at each corralling to kind of help him get used to all the commotion, and came a time when the little horse knowed exactly where and which side of the corral that cowboy would be. His saddle was always on the ground a few feet on the outside, and every horse he caught to ride would always be led or "snaked" to that same spot, and Smoky got so that whenever he was corralled he'd make a rush for that one spot where he could easy reach Clint's shirt whenever the attention of that cowboy was needed.