SMOKY MEETS THE HUMAN
The long spring days followed by the warmer days of middle summer had
took away all signs of snow excepting where the peaks was highest and
the canyons deep and narrow. Up there was crusted hunks still holding
out against the sun and hugging the shady sides of rocky ledges, and
leaving out moisture that kept the springs and creeks running to the
flats below.
The grass was greener up there, the flies wasn't so bad, and besides
there was always a breeze and sometimes a wind which made things mighty
cooling, specially in the shade of the twisted pines scattered over the
country where Smoky, his mammy, and the bunch was ranging.
That high, rocky, and rough territory had a lot to do in the makings of
Smoky. Playing down the steep ridges where shale rock made the footing
slippery and mighty uncertain had took all the wobble and shake out of
his legs, they fit to his body more and rounded up in size so as they
looked like they really belonged to him. His hoofs had long ago lost
their pink soft shell and turned to steel grey and were near as hard
and tough as steel itself, and the way he'd buck and play down a rocky
canyon and jump over down timber, may not of compared with a mountain
goat for sureness, but he more than made up for that in speed and
recklessness, and somehow he'd always hit the bottom right side up.
It was in one of them wild scrambles down a mountain side one day
that Smoky near run into a cinnamon cub which had been curled up and
sleeping on top of a big stump. Smoky stood in his tracks for a second,
and in that second the cub fell off the stump with a snarl and lit
arunning on the other side.
The action of the cub is what decided Smoky whether to stand still,
turn back and high-tail it, or follow and investigate, but his
curiosity was still with him, and bowing his neck he paced high and
mighty on the trail of the hairy puzzle.
Over dead timber he went, sailed acrost washes, and ducked under
branches. He was gaining and would of kept the chase up for quite a
spell, only, and just when things was getting real interesting, there
was a crash, and to his right a dust and a commotion which sounded
like a landslide. In half a second more, a big round brown head showed
itself thru a tangle of broken limbs and underbrush, Smoky got a
glimpse of two small eyes afire, long white teeth a gleaming, and when
all the sudden apparition was backed by a roar that near shook the
mountains, Smoky left. He tore a hole in the earth as he turned tail,
and he wasn't pacing high and mighty as he made distance and raced back
towards his mammy and safety.
His heart was thumping fit to bust as he cleared the timber and got out
in open country, and for the life of him he couldn't figger out how
that little bunch of fur he'd been chasing could turn out into such
a scenery-tearing cyclone as what he'd got a glimpse of. He'd never
reckoned the little cub had a mammy too.
But Smoky was learning fast, and along with his own experiences he
learned from his mother just what was what in the timber and on the
flats;--like another time on the foothills, his mammy was in the lead
and him following close behind on a hot dusty trail towards a shady
spot. Of a sudden there was a rattling sound, and just as sudden his
mammy left the trail as though she'd been shot. Instinct made Smoky do
the same and none too soon, for on the left just a foot or so off the
trail was a wriggling thing that'd just struck, and missed to reach his
ankle by an inch.
Smoky stood off at a safe distance and snorted at it as it coiled up
ready. Somehow he had no hankering to go stick his nose nowheres near
or take a sniff at the grey and dirty yellow colored rattler, and when
his mammy nickered for him to follow there was a warning in her nicker,
he took another look at the snake. He'd remember, and do the same as
his mother had done whenever the rattling sound would be heard again.
Taking in all, Smoky was getting mighty wise along with being mighty
lucky in getting that wisdom, scratches is about all he ever packed
out of any scramble, and scratches didn't count with him. His hide was
getting tough and the blood that flowed in his veins wasn't from a
heart that'd peter out very easy.
The little horse was having a great time up in that high country,
and if he'd seen more of life, he'd most likely wondered how long
it all was going to last, it would of struck him as too good to last
much longer, but as it was, Smoky took in all that life could give
and enjoyed it to the limit. He never passed anything which had him
wondering for fear of missing something. If a limb cracked anywheres
within hearing distance he'd perk his ears towards the sound and seldom
would go on till he found out just why that limb cracked that way, he'd
follow and pester the badger till it'd hunt a hole, he'd circle around
a tree and watch the bushy tailed squirrel as it'd climb up out of his
reach.--Skunks had crossed his trail too, but somehow, the atmosphere
around 'em would sort of dampen his curiosity and he always kept his
distance.
Smoky had met and had experiences with all the range country's wild
animals excepting the lion and the wolf. His mammy kept clear of
the territory where them outlaws ranged, and if by scent the bunch
suspicioned them two as neighbors they'd drift, or else keep on the
lookout till the others had drifted. Smoky met them too and had
scrambles with 'em, but that came later in his life, and it's a good
thing it was later, for I most likely wouldn't be telling about Smoky
now.
The first big event of Smoky's life came when he was four months old.
There was nothing to tell him anything would happen, no dark skies nor
ill winds to threaten or warn, and as it was, the little feller was
just in the steady motion of keeping one end of himself clear of the
few flies that was around, that short tail of his was working like a
pendulum, he was standing up and asleep, the breeze blowed thru his
mane and that same breeze made a sort of lullaby as it passed thru the
branches of the big pine that shaded him and his mammy.
His mammy was asleep too, and so was the rest of the bunch, and when
the cowboy that was riding up the canyon spotted 'em he knowed he could
get above 'em and be where he could start 'em down before any of the
bunch would see him.
It was a mighty good thing he done that, for soon as one of the bunch
got wind of him and raised a head, there was a snort, they came to life
and was on the run in a split second. Down the side of the canyon they
went, a cloud of dust and the cowboy following.
Smoky was right with the bunch from the start, he stampeded with the
leader and once in his life it never came to him to wonder what it was
all about, he just run and plum forgot to investigate.
Tails was a popping as the horses slid off the mountain, jumped off
ledges and sailed acrost washouts. Loosened rocks bumped against
boulders, boulders crashed into dead hanging timber and pretty soon a
landslide brought up the rear, but even that was too slow. The ponies
and the cowboy behind 'em hit the bottom of the canyon first, and when
the slide reached that spot and filled the canyon with ten feet of
boulders, timber, and dirt, the whole wild bunch was half a mile away
and kicking up dust on the foothills at the edge of the flat.
It was away out on the flat and where the dust wasn't so thick that
Smoky took a back slant over his withers and got his first sight of
the human. The way his mammy and the rest of the bunch acted, the way
they run and tried to dodge or leave that human behind sure put the
impression in Smoky's mind that here was a different kind of animal,
the kind that no horse would stop to fight or argue with but instead
run away from, if it was possible.
But it didn't seem possible, for the rider was still right on their
tails, and stayed there till he drove 'em into the long wings of big
log corrals which to Smoky seemed like trees growing sideways instead
of up and down. But the little horse knowed that there was no going
thru them trees. He stuck close as he could to his mammy's side, she
and the bunch milled around for a spell around the big pen, the big
gate closed on 'em and wild eyed the bunch turned and faced a bow
legged, leather covered, sunburnt human.
Smoky shivered as he watched that strange crethure get off one of his
kin, a horse just like any of the bunch him and his mammy was running
with, all excepting for that funny hunk of leather on his back; pretty
soon the human fumbled around a while and then that hunk of leather
was pulled off, the horse was turned loose, shook himself, and walked
towards Smoky and the bunch.
The colt was stary-eyed and never missed a thing, and soon as the loose
horse came his way he took a sniff at his sweaty hide for some kind of
a clue as to just what had been setting on him all thru that long run.
The sniff left him more puzzled than ever, and forgetting the horse he
put all his attention on the crethure which was standing up and on two
legs.
There'd been a lot of lightning up in the mountains where Smoky had
been ranging that summer, he'd seen some fires up there too. That
lightning and them fires was great puzzles to the colt, and when he
seen the human make a swift move with a paw, and then seen a fire in
one of them paws, and later on, smoke coming out of the mouth, it all
made things more than ever impossible for him to figger out. He stood
petrified, and watched.
Pretty soon, them same paws that'd held the fire, reached down and
picked up a coil of rope, a loop was made, and then the human walked
towards him and the bunch. At that move the bunch tore around the
corral and raised the dust; then Smoky heard the hiss of a rope as it
sailed over past him and the loop settled on one of the ponies' heads.
The pony was stopped and led out to the hunk of leather on the ground,
it was cinched on him the same as it'd been on the other horse, and
when the human climbed on is when Smoky first set eyes on one of his
kind in a fight with the two-legged crethure.
It was a great sight to the colt. He'd seen some of his bunch play
and kick often, and he'd done a lot of that himself, but he'd never
seen any get in the position and tear things up the way that pony was
doing. He knowed that pony was fighting, bucking for all he was worth,
and doing his daggonedest to shed that sticking and ill built wonder
that was on top of him. Smoky watched and shook when he heard the pony
beller. He'd never heard one of his kind make that noise before, and
he knowed without wondering just what the beller meant. He remembered
doing near the same that time when the cayote had nipped him in the ham
strings.
Smoky's eyes was blazing as he watched on thru the fight and the pony's
hard jumps dwindled down to crowhops and then a stop. He watched the
man as he got off the horse, opened the gate, lead the horse out and
after closing it, watched him ride on and out of sight. It wasn't
till then that he came back to himself and it come to his mind to
investigate the kind of place it was that cooped him in. He rubbed
noses with his mammy and went to scouting around the big corral. Long
strands of mane which had caught in slivers of the logs told him
there'd been lots of horses here before, sniffs at the ground and more
sniffs at pieces of calves' ears that'd been cut while earmarking
reminded him of the critter he'd seen while he was only a couple of
weeks old. Many calves had been branded in the big corral, and with all
them signs which was plain enough reading to Smoky it only made him all
the more suspicious and spooky.
He was trying to get up enough nerve to go near and take a sniff at a
pair of chaps hanging on the corral gate, when he noticed a dust, and
under it a band of horses being hazed towards the corral he was in.
With that band was a half dozen riders or more, and the sight of them
made Smoky high-tail to his mammy's side in a hurry. Once there, he
took in all that could be seen and watched the riders drive the horses
thru the gate and turn' em in with his bunch. There was a lot of dust,
milling around, and confusion, for there was now near two hundred head
of horses in the one big corral, but to Smoky all that company was
mighty welcome, they meant more protection, he could hide better in
that big bunch and be able to always keep some of the horses between
him and them two-legged crethures.
He kept hid as well as he could while the bunch milled around the
corral, and in a short while, as he watched thru the horses' legs, he
seen where on the outside and close to the pen a fire was started,
long bars of iron was passed thru between the logs and one end of 'em
sticking in the hot blaze. Then, pretty soon a commotion was stirred,
and the bunch went to racing around the corral and snorting. Many was
cut out into another corral, till there was only about fifty left,
mostly young colts about Smoky's age, and a few quiet old mares.
Smoky had no chance to hide, and as he seen the bow-legged humans
uncoil long ropes and heard the loops whiz past him at the speed of a
bullet, terror struck in his heart and he was ready to leave the earth.
He heard some of the colts squeal as they was snared, throwed, and tied
down, and that sure didn't help to ease the fear that'd took hold of
him.
He was doing his best and keeping as far out of reach as he could but
it seemed like them crethures was everywhere, and no place where them
long ropes couldn't reach. It was during one of his wild scrambles for
a get away that Smoky heard the close hiss of a rope, and like a snake
coiled itself around both his front legs, he let out a squeal, and in
another second he was flat to the ground and four feet tied up.
Smoky figgered the end of the world had come as he felt the human touch
him, and if it'd been in his blood to faint away, he'd a done it easy,
but as it was he never missed a thing. He seen one of the crethures run
towards him with a hot iron, smelled burning hair and hide--it was his
own that burned, but it felt cool and there was no pain, for he was at
the stage where the searing iron was no worse than a touch from the
human hand. But there's an end to all, whether it's good or bad, and
pretty soon, Smoky felt the ropes come off his legs, a boost to let
him know that all was over, and when he stood up and run back to the
bunch, there was a mark on his slick hide that was there for life,--as
the brand read, the little horse belonged to the Rocking R outfit.
It was all a mighty great relief to Smoky and the other colts when the
branding come to an end, the bunch all put back together, and when the
colts found their mammies all was turned out and free again, free to go
back to the high mountain range, or run on the flats.
Smoky's mammy took the lead, and after the rest of the bunch was thru
parleying with the strange horses they joined in with her and the colt
and all strung out for the foothills. The next day they all was up in
high country again and everything of the day before was forgotten,
forgotten, all excepting with Smoky and the other little colts. They
still remembered some, on account that it had all been mighty new to
'em, and besides, the sting of the fresh brand was there on their left
thigh to remind.
But as the days went by, and new things happened right along to draw
Smoky's interest in life, the happenings at the corral was gradually
left behind like a bad dream; the burn healed quick and left a neat
brand all of which growed right with him.
Fall came, skies clouded and the rains was getting cold, and each time
it cleared up again it was a little colder, the sun wasn't making as
high a circle and was steady losing some of its heat, and when after
a few mornings' frost the skies clouded again and the wind blowed a
light snow over the high pinnacles, the bunch gradually ranged lower
and lower, till, when they reached the foothills and finally the flats,
the first of the winter had set in and it was time for 'em to drift to
their winter range.
Their winter range was low ridges and benches that raised up in the
middle of the prairie. There was steep ravines where willows and
cottonwoods growed in big patches, the shelter of them was mighty fine
when the cold north winds blowed and the howling blizzard made every
living thing hunt a hole. Tall grass was there too and could always be
reached by pawing for it. In quiet winter days, when the sun came out
and the wind went down the bunch could always leave their shelter and
find places on the ridges where the winds had swept the snow away, and
where the grass was in plain sight.
Drifting acrost that flat open country and investigating that new
winter territory had kept Smoky's eyes, ears, and nostrils mighty busy.
There'd been a lot to keep him looking, listening, and sniffing. Every
buffalo wallow, coulee, and rise had kept his senses on hair trigger
edge, and when the first snow had come, he'd enjoyed that too. It made
him want to buck and play as it fell on his withers and rump, and along
with the cold weather that'd turned the range brown and then white he
was finding more ambition to keep on the jump. He wasn't looking for
shade no more.
If Smoky minded the cold he sure didn't show it, and if you could of
felt his warm hide and seen how thick the hair had growed on it, and
how long, you'd never wondered why it was that the cold raw winds never
fazed him. Mother Nature had seen to that and brought on the winter
gradual, till, when the time come for it to set in, Smoky was well
prepared, he was packing a natural fur coat on a good thick hide, and
with an inch of tallow for a lining, and along with the rich, thick
blood which he kept in good circulation he was mighty able to compete
with the snows and freezing weather, and was never found to hunt
shelter till the blizzard blowed over the ridges from the north.
He pawed snow for his feed that winter, for it had been quite a few
months before when he found that his mammy's milk wasn't quite enough,
and later turned out to be just a taste, and finally, she give him to
understand that he was weaned. There was no arguing with her, and Smoky
knowed better than try, so he pawed and hunted for grass like a big
horse. He et snow and could stay away from water as long as any of the
bunch, and even tho he lost some of his roundness thru the worst of the
winter, you couldn't of noticed it on account of his hair being so long.
Being that Smoky was still quite a privileged character it helped him
considerable thru them long winter months, if he'd see some big horse
dig down into a special good grassy spot, he'd take advantage of his
standing and chase the big horse away. He looked mighty wicked as he
put his ears down, showed his teeth, and delivered a side kick, and the
big horse would _act_ scared to death, and get away from the dangerous
Smoky in a hurry. There was only one in the bunch that wouldn't scare
worth a bit, and that was his mammy, he could paw in the same hole
with her and maybe steal a bunch of grass right from under her nose,
but there was no chasing _her_ away, most likely there was no such
intentions in Smoky's mind anyhow, for the little horse did think an
awful lot of that mammy of his, and even tho she never played with him,
and even nipped him for some things he'd do, he knowed if a showdown
ever come she'd fight to a finish for him.
So, as the snows piled high and the ravines filled with drifts, Smoky
went on and passed the hard of the winter in near the same carefree
reckless way he'd passed the summer before. Of course, pawing for his
feed the way he had to was taking some of his energy, but he'd manage
to reserve some for play, and many is the time when you'd see the bunch
a pawing all intent to reaching the grass, you'd see Smoky tearing up
clouds of light snow and a playing for all he was worth. Other colts
would join him, and pretty soon the young ones would have the white
scenery all tracked the same as if a thousand head of horses had
stampeded thru.
The winter wore on that way, no events came to shake the quiet and
peace of that part of the range, only, one day a rider had showed up
against the skyline. Smoky had been the only one to see him on account
he was a little ways from the bunch and where he could see around a
point. With the sight of that rider Smoky remembered ropes, a corral
and human hands, and he sashayed back to the bunch fast as his legs
could carry him.
Finally, the first sign of spring came, Smoky couldn't appreciate it
very much on account that the warm winds which was starting the snow
to melting only left him weak and lazy. His blood hadn't started to
thin down as yet, and for the first short spell in his life, he had no
hankering to crowhop around and play.
Then a few weeks later the bare earth begin to show in big spots and on
the sunny side of the buttes green grass begin to shoot up. That new
green grass tasted mighty good to Smoky, it tasted so good that the dry
feed he'd wintered on and which could now be got without pawing for,
was only stepped on in hunting for them first blades of green. Nothing
but that would do, and as it was still scarce and hard to find that
early in the year he covered a lot of territory and got very little
feed.
But the rest of the bunch was afflicted the same way, the long dry
grass wasn't good enough no more, and consequences is the bunch lost
some weight. But Mother Nature was on hand there again, she knowed
that's what the bunch needed to condition 'em for the change of
season, and sure enough, pretty soon the warm weather didn't leave 'em
so drowsy no more, and as the grass kept a growing, and finally got
to be everywhere, on the ridges as on the flats, the bunch perked up
again; the long winter hair was loosening and big hunks of it was left
wherever they rolled.
Smoky's winter coat had faded to a brown at the first sign of spring,
and now that the warmer weather had come and green grass was a plenty
there was another color showed where he'd shed off the long hair. It
was what we call "mouse color" only maybe darker, no more of the slick
black hair that decorated his hide the summer before could be seen, the
change of color had showed itself around his ears and flanks but it
wasn't till winter came that the real change had took place and turned
him to a grayish mouse color.
His head and legs was a little darker than his body and showed brown,
and with that little blaze face of his a looming up, he made a mighty
pretty picture, a picture of the kind once you see you never forget;
for Smoky was perfect any way you looked at him and it seemed like as
you sized him up that the other of his kind hadn't been played square
with and some of their good points stole away so as Smoky would be the
perfect little horse.
Smoky had never thought of his good looks and strong body, his good
looks was only a sign of his good health, he felt it all and used it
to the limit for his own benefit and for whatever fun his strength
and energy could afford him. That never lacked, and if he layed
down it was seldom because he was tired, it was more thru a hint from
Mother Nature for him to hold on a while and store up on life and more
strength.
The spring rains came and went, and each time after each spell of
moisture the grass was a little taller and the country greener, the sun
kept a getting warmer too and some days was already hot.
It was during one of these hot days that Smoky's mother disappeared.
Smoky had been snoozing in the shade of a creek bank and it wasn't till
quite a while after he got up and started grazing that he noticed she
was gone. The bunch had been drifting back for the summer range and
was at the foothills of the big range, the big flat below was an easy
place to spot any moving object on, but Smoky couldn't find hide nor
hair of that mammy of his, he trotted around the bunch and, nickering,
investigated for a spell. She couldn't be found.
He took another look at the country around, and nickering in kind of
wonder, he went to grazing again. Somehow he wasn't fidgety as he
should of been, maybe he had a hunch that her disappearing that way was
necessary and that all was hunkydory. Anyway Smoky never missed any
sleep, or feed, or play while she was gone, things went on just the
same, and the little horse's hide was getting slicker every day.
A few days passed, and then one morning the big buckskin horse that was
still in the bunch perked up his ears, nickered, and loped out towards
the flat. A horse was out there and coming towards the bunch, alongside
the horse was a little moving object.
Smoky and the bunch stood in their tracks and watched. Pretty soon
Smoky noticed something familiar in that lone horse coming towards
him, but that little object a tagging along puzzled him, and head up,
he trotted out a ways to investigate. Then it all came to him, for the
lone horse was none other than his mammy.
He lit out on a run a nickering as he went till he got to within a few
feet of her, and then he got a slant at the object a tagging alongside,
a brand new little wobblety legged colt it was, shining black, and
awful timid at the sight of so many strangers. It was Smoky's new
little brother.
Smoky couldn't keep his nose off the baby, and his mammy had to cock
one ear back at him the same as to say "careful, Son," but Smoky was
careful, and as his mammy went on to join the bunch, he followed and
the big buckskin brought up the rear. From then on Smoky ranked second.
[Illustration: And as his mammy went to join the bunch, he followed and
the big buckskin bought up the rear. From then on Smoky ranked second.]