“One, two, three,” Aunt Mary counted as she lifted me onto Tango.
“Thanks!” I replied. The early morning light danced off Tango’s dappled chestnut hindquarters. I watched as she vaulted herself onto her 18.2hh Belgian draft. I pressed my heels deeper into the stirrups and repositioned myself in the deep Stubben as Tango picked up a brisk walk to the herd of horses gathered for departure.
Tango and I were to be part of the second flight of horses in the Rappahannock Hunt Club fox hunt that day. My aunt was leading the third field on Caesar, and her friend, Janet, rode my aunt’s prize mare, Ghost, to lead the first field. Third field was a hacking group, second field was hacking and some jumping, while first field was everything. I longed to be part of first field to be right up with the hounds and galloping the countryside for hours, but my aunt held me back since it was my first time riding on a fox hunt.