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called them.
    Mr. Conner’s door was open, and he was at his desk. Lexa knocked on the door and he looked up, seeing us, then smiled.
    â€œCome in,” he said. “What can I do for you?”
    Mr. Conner was as strict about keeping his office neat as he was with us keeping our belongings tidy. A giant Mac sat on his desk; he had a corkboard with a horse calendar pinned to it. There weren’t any pens on his desk—they were all in a pen holder. Not a paper was out of place.
    I saw the cast on his leg sticking out from the side of the desk. Just thinking about his accident made my stomach hurt. Mr. Conner had been teaching Sasha’s advanced class last week and had taken them across the road to practice in a large field. Mr. Conner was also training Lexington, a young horse, for a client. Something had spooked Lexington and the horse had reared, flipped onto his back, and had narrowly missed crushing Mr. Conner’s body. He did pin Mr. Conner’s leg, breaking it. Mr. Conner was going to be in a cast for a while. But if you didn’t see the cast, you’d forget there had ever been an accident. Mr. Conner moved around on his crutches almost as fast as he did without them.
    â€œWe’re going on a trail ride,” Lexa said. “I’m not sure, and neither is Lauren, if it’s cold enough to put blanketsover the horses’ hindquarters or if they’ll be warm enough from the exercise.”
    Mr. Conner put down the pen he’d been holding. His black hair was cropped short, he had a slight tan, and he wore his usual hunter-green jacket with CCA stitched in gold lettering. The school’s colors were everywhere!
    â€œI’m glad you asked me,” he said. “If it was a few degrees colder, I’d say blankets were a good idea. But you’re not going to be out too long, I assume?”
    Lexa and I shook our heads no.
    â€œThen your horses are fine without them,” Mr. Conner continued. “The movement will keep them warm.”
    We smiled at him.
    â€œThank you, Mr. Conner,” I said.
    Lexa echoed my thanks, and we left his office.
    We turned onto the main aisle and almost smacked into Cole.
    â€œWhoa!” Cole said. “Is there a sale at the mall that I don’t know about?”
    We giggled.
    â€œUnfortunately, no,” I said. “But go get your tack and hurry! We’re meeting outside in fifteen.”
    Cole gave me a sharp salute, his face stoic but his green eyes smiling. Cole’s infectious energy always mademe smile. We could talk about anything—horses, cute guys Cole was crushing on—and we always had fun.
    Back at Whisper’s stall, I took off her blanket and folded it carefully. The blanket had kept her clean, but I whisked a body brush over her light coat. I picked her hooves and ran a wide-toothed comb through her mane and tail. In the stall beside us, I heard Lexa cooing to Honor as she did a similar grooming routine.
    Whisper treated every grooming session like her own personal spa time. She let out grunts when I brushed her in a favorite spot and closed her eyes when I combed her mane. I loved making her feel good.
    â€œAll right, pretty,” I said. “Let’s get your tack on and go meet everyone.”
    Even though the stable had heaters, it was still cold inside. But once I’d started grooming Whisper, I’d forgotten about the cold. The exercise had warmed me up.
    I placed a white wool saddle pad on Whisper’s back, then gently put my English saddle on top of it. I tightened the girth to its usual notches and made a note to check it again after I bridled her. Whisper didn’t move when I slipped off her pink halter. I took both of my hands and wrapped them around the stainless-steel bit, warmingit before giving it to Whisper. With the crownpiece in one hand and the bit in the other, I slipped the bit into Whisper’s mouth and eased the crownpiece over her ears. I ran my