Carole said to Fez the next morning. “You’re about to get your first taste of riding Pine Hollow style.” She gripped the horse’s reins firmly and led him out of his stall toward the schooling ring, where she was going to begin fulfilling her inexplicable promise to the congressman’s daughter. Carole had ridden many horses over the years—easy ones, tough ones, old plugs, champion hunter jumpers, and priceless racehorses. Every one of them was a new experience for her, and every new experience was a good one in its own way. She wondered how this horse was going to fit into that. Fez followed Carole dutifully out of his stall and down the stable aisle. He was getting his first real look at his new home, and Carole didn’t rush him. He had every right to be curious. He eyed all the other horses as he passed them. He showed little interest, but Carole was sure he was taking it in. She mounted and then walked him over to the good-luck horseshoe, one of Pine Hollow’s oldest traditions.
