Hunter left his perch on the fence and jogged up to Smokey. “Smokey, you said Sally was my horse. What did you mean?”
“Sometimes we pick the horse. Sometimes the horse picks us. If the horse has her heart set on a certain human, there ain’t nothin’ we can do about it. She’s your horse, all right. She picked you,” said Smokey as he gave Hunter a pat on the shoulder.
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