Y16 First Workouts
Let Her Buck
Three Furlong Workout
Apache Sunrise with David Carter aboard
Shatter with Justin Santiago aboard
"I've sat on her mother a couple times," Justin said as he tacked up Shatter. "But I know this filly better. She's explosive, Ripley. I love her."
Ripley laughed and patted Shatter's little star. "That's quite the high praise. You're giving her a high standard to live up to. Do you think she's going to be able to back it up?"
"Do you?" Justin asked quietly.
Ripley had no answer for him. She stepped back and took a good look at the filly that stood before her. Although Shatter was a daughter of Worldbreaker, the only thing she had from her father was his brilliant coloring. Shatter was towering, thick with muscle and just the animal that was going to take Witch Creek back to the top of the class in the turf world. Shatter was a mirror image of her mother, albeit a bit more peppy, but she was a bold one and just looked like a runner. Her 16.2 hands of muscle and gleaming hide left her connections believing that this might just be the most talented turf distance runner that Ripley had ever bred.
David gave Apache Sunrise a soft pat the neck. The young horse aimed him a side glance full of disdain that left him smiling. She was not the typical high class thoroughbred. She certainly didn't behave like it. He grunted when he spotted a clump of mud under her mane. "I swear I cleaned you thoroughly. You're a disgusting filly for such a well bred one."
"She's pristine in her breeding," Ripley murmured as she stepped from Shatter to Sunrise. The chestnut filly settled her fine muzzle in Ripley's cupped hands and eyed her with thoughtful eyes. Ripley swore she had a thing for chestnuts. These two girls, Sunrise and Shatter, had swept off with her heart the first time she ever laid eyes on them. "She's not the typical Admiral's Revenge baby. Usually they have fierce attitudes. He's only thrown two chestnut daughters, her and Admiral's Holiday. Stride of Perfection Stables doesn't know how good they have it with her. We do. I can't wait for this one to race and join our broodmare band. She could be a cornerstone for us."
"She hasn't even started yet and you're ready to retire her?" David laughed jokingly. Apache tilted her head and eyed him. He felt a shiver go down his spine. Boy, this one was a special filly. Sunrise tossed her head until Ripley took over and pulled her bridle up over her ears. "Behave little girl," Ripley chided. "We've got work to do tonight. You're joining me on the track and that means vacations over."
"I wish someone had told me that when I started kindergarten," Justin said with a smile. "I would have made sure to scream a little louder when my mom dropped me off."
Ripley rolled her eyes and turned Sunrise around to face Shatter. She sucked in a big breath, capturing all of her anticipation and excitement. Gosh she was lucky to be able to produce these kind of horses. Shatter pinned her ears when Sunrise stepped forward to touch noses. She wasn't one for interaction with other horses. Justin patted her neck and nodded. "I'm ready when you guys are."
Justin cocked his leg for Ripley to grab. An instant later, he was soaring through the air and landing on Atty's back. The Worldbreaker daughter nickered nervously, but she settled down when Justin patted her butt. "Whatcha gonna do with all that junk, all that junk inside your trunk?" he sang to the filly. Atty's ears flickered and she licked her lips as she always did whenever he sang to her.
David laughed as he landed in the saddle. "Atty does have quite the ass on her."
Ripley rolled her eyes and led the way from the barn. "You two watch, it's going to prove way more useful when she's blowing by her competition."
Ripley stepped to the side as soon as she passed through the barn door and allowed the fillies to go by. Sunrise took the lead, head cranked way high to look at everything. Atty let out an ear piercing whinny and pranced beneath Justin. He kept his legs solid and made sure to sit deep in the tiny saddle. He'd learned a long time ago that Atty wasn't below scare tactics. He crooned to her and kept up a full blown conversation all the way to the turf track.
David was silent. Apache Sunrise walked powerfully beneath him. She knew exactly what they were doing. She loved to run and she would puff herself up until she allowed to explode. David could feel her back tighten the closer they got to the track. She was going to be a springboard, no doubt about that. "Easy, Sunrise. We've got to relax."
Ripley's voice crackled over their headsets as she drove by them on the way to the flat. "Only a mile gallop before the three furlong flat. We want them fresh and ready to roll. Try not to let Sunrise bullet up the hills, David. We both know she gets way too excited."
"You got it," David said. He loosened the reins as they passed the first couple hills. Sunrise cocked her head and watched them as she walked by as if she couldn't believe they weren't running the entire track. David kissed to her and was unprepared for the huge buck she gave him. She squealed and crow hopped a couple strides while David fought to keep his seat. He gathered the reins up and finally had control over the tall filly. "Don't even laugh," he growled to Justin.
Justin sealed his lips shut, but couldn't stop from feeling amused. He patted Atty. "Good girl. We don't need another crazy horse to add to the mix."
The duo finally reached the gap where they were going to start. Sunrise took off first, barreling up the hill and hauling David nearly out of his seat. He heard Justin crooning to Atty, doing anything to keep her calm in the face of Sunrise's explosive run. David tugged on the bit the entire way up the hill, finally dislodging it just as she hit the crest. He sighed in relief when she came back to the planet and skipped down the hillside oh so politely.
Shatter tracked Apache Sunrise through the gallop, ears flicking over her head. She wanted to go after the other filly, but Justin's careful handling told her no. She bowed her neck, fighting only once, and settled into her efficiently monstrous stride. These Worldbreakers could seriously run. She felt like she would run for days. Justin kept his body still as Atty navigated the terrain. She was a neat filly for one so large.
Apache Sunrise was becoming more confident the farther she went. David was doing less restraining and less riding. He didn't have to work hard now on Sunrise. She was floating over the course and they were heading full on for the flat track.
The duo hit the top of the hill and were forced to slow up their drives. Atty caught up halfway down the hill, drawing an irritated rise from Sunrise. The Admiral's Revenge daughter pinned her ears, but stayed on course upon asking. She was competitive, especially in the flat. She knew the race to the wire truly started here and she was not going to go down a beaten horse.
Clods of turf flew into the air as the horses hit the base. Shatter had a brief lead, but she was quickly swallowed up by Sunrise's gargantuan strides. The leaner filly hauled ass to the front and leveled out into her effortless stride. David couldn't help the chuckle. She was a flipping animal this filly. "Good girl."
Shatter tracked Apache Sunrise down the track, her confidence growing with every stride. Justin just touched his left rein and she skipped to the side. He touched the right and she skipped to the right. For a mid-pack type horse, this young filly was a fast one. She wasn't a steady grinder like most of them. She felt like a horse ready to run at the drop of a hat.
David chirped to Sunrise at the final furlong marker. The beauty stormed into her fastest gallop, but she didn't shake Shatter. Justin had watched David's body language and his close proximity to the other jock had let him know when to run. Shatter soared up alongside Sunrise and galloped toward the wire. Both fillies now ran with their ears pinned flat to their skulls and their attitudes blazing in their eyes. Apache held onto the lead, but narrowly. Atty was pelting her with challenge after challenge, but Sunrise was finding more.
Ripley stopped the watch when the pair of chestnuts bulletted through the wire. She glanced down at her watch and smiled. :34 3/5. Blazing fast fractions and these two had run a mile over hills before hand. She didn't even know how they would run when they hit the flat track, but she knew these two were fiercely talented. If their speed matched their pedigrees, Sunrise and Shatter had extremely bright futures ahead of them.
Apache Sunrise with David Carter aboard
Shatter with Justin Santiago aboard
"I've sat on her mother a couple times," Justin said as he tacked up Shatter. "But I know this filly better. She's explosive, Ripley. I love her."
Ripley laughed and patted Shatter's little star. "That's quite the high praise. You're giving her a high standard to live up to. Do you think she's going to be able to back it up?"
"Do you?" Justin asked quietly.
Ripley had no answer for him. She stepped back and took a good look at the filly that stood before her. Although Shatter was a daughter of Worldbreaker, the only thing she had from her father was his brilliant coloring. Shatter was towering, thick with muscle and just the animal that was going to take Witch Creek back to the top of the class in the turf world. Shatter was a mirror image of her mother, albeit a bit more peppy, but she was a bold one and just looked like a runner. Her 16.2 hands of muscle and gleaming hide left her connections believing that this might just be the most talented turf distance runner that Ripley had ever bred.
David gave Apache Sunrise a soft pat the neck. The young horse aimed him a side glance full of disdain that left him smiling. She was not the typical high class thoroughbred. She certainly didn't behave like it. He grunted when he spotted a clump of mud under her mane. "I swear I cleaned you thoroughly. You're a disgusting filly for such a well bred one."
"She's pristine in her breeding," Ripley murmured as she stepped from Shatter to Sunrise. The chestnut filly settled her fine muzzle in Ripley's cupped hands and eyed her with thoughtful eyes. Ripley swore she had a thing for chestnuts. These two girls, Sunrise and Shatter, had swept off with her heart the first time she ever laid eyes on them. "She's not the typical Admiral's Revenge baby. Usually they have fierce attitudes. He's only thrown two chestnut daughters, her and Admiral's Holiday. Stride of Perfection Stables doesn't know how good they have it with her. We do. I can't wait for this one to race and join our broodmare band. She could be a cornerstone for us."
"She hasn't even started yet and you're ready to retire her?" David laughed jokingly. Apache tilted her head and eyed him. He felt a shiver go down his spine. Boy, this one was a special filly. Sunrise tossed her head until Ripley took over and pulled her bridle up over her ears. "Behave little girl," Ripley chided. "We've got work to do tonight. You're joining me on the track and that means vacations over."
"I wish someone had told me that when I started kindergarten," Justin said with a smile. "I would have made sure to scream a little louder when my mom dropped me off."
Ripley rolled her eyes and turned Sunrise around to face Shatter. She sucked in a big breath, capturing all of her anticipation and excitement. Gosh she was lucky to be able to produce these kind of horses. Shatter pinned her ears when Sunrise stepped forward to touch noses. She wasn't one for interaction with other horses. Justin patted her neck and nodded. "I'm ready when you guys are."
Justin cocked his leg for Ripley to grab. An instant later, he was soaring through the air and landing on Atty's back. The Worldbreaker daughter nickered nervously, but she settled down when Justin patted her butt. "Whatcha gonna do with all that junk, all that junk inside your trunk?" he sang to the filly. Atty's ears flickered and she licked her lips as she always did whenever he sang to her.
David laughed as he landed in the saddle. "Atty does have quite the ass on her."
Ripley rolled her eyes and led the way from the barn. "You two watch, it's going to prove way more useful when she's blowing by her competition."
Ripley stepped to the side as soon as she passed through the barn door and allowed the fillies to go by. Sunrise took the lead, head cranked way high to look at everything. Atty let out an ear piercing whinny and pranced beneath Justin. He kept his legs solid and made sure to sit deep in the tiny saddle. He'd learned a long time ago that Atty wasn't below scare tactics. He crooned to her and kept up a full blown conversation all the way to the turf track.
David was silent. Apache Sunrise walked powerfully beneath him. She knew exactly what they were doing. She loved to run and she would puff herself up until she allowed to explode. David could feel her back tighten the closer they got to the track. She was going to be a springboard, no doubt about that. "Easy, Sunrise. We've got to relax."
Ripley's voice crackled over their headsets as she drove by them on the way to the flat. "Only a mile gallop before the three furlong flat. We want them fresh and ready to roll. Try not to let Sunrise bullet up the hills, David. We both know she gets way too excited."
"You got it," David said. He loosened the reins as they passed the first couple hills. Sunrise cocked her head and watched them as she walked by as if she couldn't believe they weren't running the entire track. David kissed to her and was unprepared for the huge buck she gave him. She squealed and crow hopped a couple strides while David fought to keep his seat. He gathered the reins up and finally had control over the tall filly. "Don't even laugh," he growled to Justin.
Justin sealed his lips shut, but couldn't stop from feeling amused. He patted Atty. "Good girl. We don't need another crazy horse to add to the mix."
The duo finally reached the gap where they were going to start. Sunrise took off first, barreling up the hill and hauling David nearly out of his seat. He heard Justin crooning to Atty, doing anything to keep her calm in the face of Sunrise's explosive run. David tugged on the bit the entire way up the hill, finally dislodging it just as she hit the crest. He sighed in relief when she came back to the planet and skipped down the hillside oh so politely.
Shatter tracked Apache Sunrise through the gallop, ears flicking over her head. She wanted to go after the other filly, but Justin's careful handling told her no. She bowed her neck, fighting only once, and settled into her efficiently monstrous stride. These Worldbreakers could seriously run. She felt like she would run for days. Justin kept his body still as Atty navigated the terrain. She was a neat filly for one so large.
Apache Sunrise was becoming more confident the farther she went. David was doing less restraining and less riding. He didn't have to work hard now on Sunrise. She was floating over the course and they were heading full on for the flat track.
The duo hit the top of the hill and were forced to slow up their drives. Atty caught up halfway down the hill, drawing an irritated rise from Sunrise. The Admiral's Revenge daughter pinned her ears, but stayed on course upon asking. She was competitive, especially in the flat. She knew the race to the wire truly started here and she was not going to go down a beaten horse.
Clods of turf flew into the air as the horses hit the base. Shatter had a brief lead, but she was quickly swallowed up by Sunrise's gargantuan strides. The leaner filly hauled ass to the front and leveled out into her effortless stride. David couldn't help the chuckle. She was a flipping animal this filly. "Good girl."
Shatter tracked Apache Sunrise down the track, her confidence growing with every stride. Justin just touched his left rein and she skipped to the side. He touched the right and she skipped to the right. For a mid-pack type horse, this young filly was a fast one. She wasn't a steady grinder like most of them. She felt like a horse ready to run at the drop of a hat.
David chirped to Sunrise at the final furlong marker. The beauty stormed into her fastest gallop, but she didn't shake Shatter. Justin had watched David's body language and his close proximity to the other jock had let him know when to run. Shatter soared up alongside Sunrise and galloped toward the wire. Both fillies now ran with their ears pinned flat to their skulls and their attitudes blazing in their eyes. Apache held onto the lead, but narrowly. Atty was pelting her with challenge after challenge, but Sunrise was finding more.
Ripley stopped the watch when the pair of chestnuts bulletted through the wire. She glanced down at her watch and smiled. :34 3/5. Blazing fast fractions and these two had run a mile over hills before hand. She didn't even know how they would run when they hit the flat track, but she knew these two were fiercely talented. If their speed matched their pedigrees, Sunrise and Shatter had extremely bright futures ahead of them.
Mystery Box Challenge
Five Furlong Workout
Pele's Wrath with Brookson Wells aboard
Roussong with Laura DeComte aboard
"While these two aren't my personal favorites, I have to admit I think they're going to shock a few people out there."
Ripley barely heard Malcolm's comment so fierce was the early spring wind. Her eyes were glued to the two horses weaving down the lane. The wind buffeted their thick black manes and made them work harder just to get down the path. Out of all the juveniles she had for Year Sixteen, these two and Game Over were going to be her wild cards.
Pele's Wrath paused at the bottom of the foothill and focused her ears on Malcolm and Ripley. Once again, both humans were taken aback by her fierce intelligence and her dazzling, yet rare beauty. Her hide was so black it looked purple, like dark lava that had cooled slightly on a Hawaiian volcano. Her body was lean and mean and took directly after her gorgeous dam, Candid Silver. She was a narrow sort of frame that couldn't take a lot of heavy work, but she looked fit. This was the first daughter of Ashes to Ashes. Intrepid Racing Stable had the second, Fading Embers. While that bay filly took after her dad, this one barely looked anything like him.
Roussong didn't second guess everything like Pele's Wrath. He wasn't a cautious sort. He did what he pleased and if the humans said no, he'd argue until he was blue in the face. However, he was frightfully intelligent. His sharp eyes swept over the humans, but his ears were locked on his slim rider. Ripley was impressed by Laura's confidence aboard the colt. She had a broad grin on her face and was at ease enough to give him a pat on the neck. Rou wasn't one for affection, but he was a praise junkie. He flicked his ears and bowled right onto the track like a kid during recess.
"Now I don't know why you don't like, Rou," Ripley said smartly as the bay crow hopped a couple strides. Laura chided him and the Knight Rousseau son pinned his ears and bared his teeth. He had a streak of nastiness, but he knew well enough to not go any further with his bad habits. Mal snorted when the big chested colt stepped into his long flowing jog.
"I do. He was the easiest horse to teach obedience. His best trait is that he actually wants to do good... unlike Lea... She just wants to give me a big middle finger every time I tell her to actually work." He shook his head when the seal brown filly skulked onto the track. She pinned her ears when Roussong circled up alongside of her and threatened to flay him. Rou bolted, well aware that the filly made good on her threats. "Remember," Mal said. "She actually likes me and luckily for you, she likes Brooks enough to listen to him when he's on her back."
Ripley rolled her eyes and leaned against the railing. She watched the horses trot back and forth down the homestretch before calling them to her. Brooks tipped his helmet to her and grinned. Lea was too busy glaring arrows at Rou. Rou danced uneasily beneath Laura, just itching to get away from Medusa's glare. Ripley's lips twitched in amusement, but she motioned Laura to move the worried colt a few feet from Lea. He deflated like a balloon and turned his nose to nuzzle Laura's boot. Laura looked shocked, but her eyes glittered with contentment.
"These two are pretty light horses so we aren't going to do too much with them after this work. We'll keep them happy and maybe blow them out before their respective races. Lea's hard to keep weight on, but I can adjust her feed to help her out if I have to. I want a good five furlongs. I don't know how they'll work together. Lea's faster when she gallops, but Rou might need something to point at."
She paused until the wind died down again. "Just work them in 1:00. If they come in a little slower, that's fine. The winds going to push against them."
Brooks was the first to breakaway from the little powwow. Pele mouthed the bit, sweeping her rather long tail over her haunches impatiently. He let her step into her graceful canter. He'd never felt a canter so smooth before. She was extremely deceiving and unexpectedly brilliant all at once. He kept his hands locked at her withers when she started to pull on him. She pinned her ears and her mouth gaped open in frustration. He shook his head. This was not going to be easy.
Roussong tracked Pele's Wrath into the first turn, his stride easy and his confidence booming. Laura patted the colt's neck and spoke to him. He surprisingly confident for being a Night Stalker descendant. He just marched along courageously and waited for her to hit the panic button. She never would. He broke off into his actual gallop about four lengths back from Pele's Wrath. Laura could already tell Lea was giving Brooks hell. She was tossing her head and being a real pisser, giving him a huge what for. All the while, Rou galloped along like a pro.
"Easy Lea," Brooks muttered. He felt like he was water skiing. She wasn't listening and she was just getting stronger. He couldn't get an adequate judge of time because she'd pick up speed and then fight him. He kept waiting for her to give in or tire, but she didn't. He cursed when his arms started to shake in the third furlong. This near black brat was tireless.
"Jeez," Mal said softly. "She's giving it to him real good. I'm getting some quick fractions out of this too... Are you?" Ripley didn't answer. She felt like her brain was about to explode. This filly was yanking her boyfriend around like it was her day job and her stride was only getting larger. The trainer started counting down the time until the end of the workout. Lea was going to have to get a huge portion of grain to offset this effort.
By the time the duo hit the fourth furlong, Laura basically counted herself out of the pair workout. Pele's Wrath was ten lengths in front and basically running away with Brooks. Roussong was watching her, mouthing the bit and demonstrating his readiness for pursuit. Laura gave him the reins then. She wasn't about to pitch into a fight like Brooks. Rou leaped into the bit, a Ferrari coming to life. She clung to his mane as he mounted a big around the far turn. "Holy shit," she muttered under her breath.
Mal chuckled when Rou wheeled into action two furlongs out from the wire. He had great mechanics and a really effortless stride. He bounded over the ground with a commanding presence and looked like he was doing it easy. He'd made up five lengths, but he was not going to catch his target. Lea had left him in the dust. She needed more education on what two-horse workouts actually meant.
Brooks was trying not to do too much damage. Lea was flying beneath him. She'd ripped the bit from his hands and took off like a cheetah. Her strides were powerful and long. She was running for the sake of running and despite the heavy push of the wind, Pele's Wrath seemed to relish the challenge. Brooks gathered the reins back in as she tapped out the final strides of the five furlong workout. She despised the sudden grip on her mouth and threw her head up, nearly plugging him in the face.
Laura pulled Rou into the middle of the track, keeping well clear of the striking filly. Rou pricked his ears at the wire, knowing he had finished his job. He barreled on by Leah, cocking his ears her way when she bolted after him. Laura pulled him off to the side, just in time for the Ashes to Ashes daughter to blow by them again.
"That's it," Ripley muttered. "Next time she goes out for a workout, she's going to be glued to a pick up pony. That witch is way too smart for her own good."
"And way too fast," Mal commented. "Even with the fighting she hit the five in :58... And this is a deep track, Rips..."
Ripley groaned and turned back for the barn. "At least Rou hit 1:00 on the dot. I know he's ready. He was born ready to race. I just hope she didn't kill herself off for her first start."
Mal didn't watch Ripley leave. He was busy watching the filly put up a fuss. If she even had an ounce of that energy for her first race, Lea was going to run monstrously well. He snorted and rubbed his hands down his face. Roussong trotted up, head bobbing side to side as if he knew he was good shit. Mal met him at the gate and gave him a big pat on the neck. "Great heads up riding, Laura. He went perfectly."
"Thanks," Laura said, eyes glinting with pride. "I'm glad one of these horses is going to live through the night."
Mal chuckled and sighed when Brooks and the filly came jogging up to the gap. Brooks looked outright forlorn, but the filly didn't. Lea looked downright pleased with herself. Mal shook his head when he grabbed a hold of her and led her back to the barn. He wasn't going to count her out just yet. She wouldn't even blow a candle out after all of that.
Pele's Wrath with Brookson Wells aboard
Roussong with Laura DeComte aboard
"While these two aren't my personal favorites, I have to admit I think they're going to shock a few people out there."
Ripley barely heard Malcolm's comment so fierce was the early spring wind. Her eyes were glued to the two horses weaving down the lane. The wind buffeted their thick black manes and made them work harder just to get down the path. Out of all the juveniles she had for Year Sixteen, these two and Game Over were going to be her wild cards.
Pele's Wrath paused at the bottom of the foothill and focused her ears on Malcolm and Ripley. Once again, both humans were taken aback by her fierce intelligence and her dazzling, yet rare beauty. Her hide was so black it looked purple, like dark lava that had cooled slightly on a Hawaiian volcano. Her body was lean and mean and took directly after her gorgeous dam, Candid Silver. She was a narrow sort of frame that couldn't take a lot of heavy work, but she looked fit. This was the first daughter of Ashes to Ashes. Intrepid Racing Stable had the second, Fading Embers. While that bay filly took after her dad, this one barely looked anything like him.
Roussong didn't second guess everything like Pele's Wrath. He wasn't a cautious sort. He did what he pleased and if the humans said no, he'd argue until he was blue in the face. However, he was frightfully intelligent. His sharp eyes swept over the humans, but his ears were locked on his slim rider. Ripley was impressed by Laura's confidence aboard the colt. She had a broad grin on her face and was at ease enough to give him a pat on the neck. Rou wasn't one for affection, but he was a praise junkie. He flicked his ears and bowled right onto the track like a kid during recess.
"Now I don't know why you don't like, Rou," Ripley said smartly as the bay crow hopped a couple strides. Laura chided him and the Knight Rousseau son pinned his ears and bared his teeth. He had a streak of nastiness, but he knew well enough to not go any further with his bad habits. Mal snorted when the big chested colt stepped into his long flowing jog.
"I do. He was the easiest horse to teach obedience. His best trait is that he actually wants to do good... unlike Lea... She just wants to give me a big middle finger every time I tell her to actually work." He shook his head when the seal brown filly skulked onto the track. She pinned her ears when Roussong circled up alongside of her and threatened to flay him. Rou bolted, well aware that the filly made good on her threats. "Remember," Mal said. "She actually likes me and luckily for you, she likes Brooks enough to listen to him when he's on her back."
Ripley rolled her eyes and leaned against the railing. She watched the horses trot back and forth down the homestretch before calling them to her. Brooks tipped his helmet to her and grinned. Lea was too busy glaring arrows at Rou. Rou danced uneasily beneath Laura, just itching to get away from Medusa's glare. Ripley's lips twitched in amusement, but she motioned Laura to move the worried colt a few feet from Lea. He deflated like a balloon and turned his nose to nuzzle Laura's boot. Laura looked shocked, but her eyes glittered with contentment.
"These two are pretty light horses so we aren't going to do too much with them after this work. We'll keep them happy and maybe blow them out before their respective races. Lea's hard to keep weight on, but I can adjust her feed to help her out if I have to. I want a good five furlongs. I don't know how they'll work together. Lea's faster when she gallops, but Rou might need something to point at."
She paused until the wind died down again. "Just work them in 1:00. If they come in a little slower, that's fine. The winds going to push against them."
Brooks was the first to breakaway from the little powwow. Pele mouthed the bit, sweeping her rather long tail over her haunches impatiently. He let her step into her graceful canter. He'd never felt a canter so smooth before. She was extremely deceiving and unexpectedly brilliant all at once. He kept his hands locked at her withers when she started to pull on him. She pinned her ears and her mouth gaped open in frustration. He shook his head. This was not going to be easy.
Roussong tracked Pele's Wrath into the first turn, his stride easy and his confidence booming. Laura patted the colt's neck and spoke to him. He surprisingly confident for being a Night Stalker descendant. He just marched along courageously and waited for her to hit the panic button. She never would. He broke off into his actual gallop about four lengths back from Pele's Wrath. Laura could already tell Lea was giving Brooks hell. She was tossing her head and being a real pisser, giving him a huge what for. All the while, Rou galloped along like a pro.
"Easy Lea," Brooks muttered. He felt like he was water skiing. She wasn't listening and she was just getting stronger. He couldn't get an adequate judge of time because she'd pick up speed and then fight him. He kept waiting for her to give in or tire, but she didn't. He cursed when his arms started to shake in the third furlong. This near black brat was tireless.
"Jeez," Mal said softly. "She's giving it to him real good. I'm getting some quick fractions out of this too... Are you?" Ripley didn't answer. She felt like her brain was about to explode. This filly was yanking her boyfriend around like it was her day job and her stride was only getting larger. The trainer started counting down the time until the end of the workout. Lea was going to have to get a huge portion of grain to offset this effort.
By the time the duo hit the fourth furlong, Laura basically counted herself out of the pair workout. Pele's Wrath was ten lengths in front and basically running away with Brooks. Roussong was watching her, mouthing the bit and demonstrating his readiness for pursuit. Laura gave him the reins then. She wasn't about to pitch into a fight like Brooks. Rou leaped into the bit, a Ferrari coming to life. She clung to his mane as he mounted a big around the far turn. "Holy shit," she muttered under her breath.
Mal chuckled when Rou wheeled into action two furlongs out from the wire. He had great mechanics and a really effortless stride. He bounded over the ground with a commanding presence and looked like he was doing it easy. He'd made up five lengths, but he was not going to catch his target. Lea had left him in the dust. She needed more education on what two-horse workouts actually meant.
Brooks was trying not to do too much damage. Lea was flying beneath him. She'd ripped the bit from his hands and took off like a cheetah. Her strides were powerful and long. She was running for the sake of running and despite the heavy push of the wind, Pele's Wrath seemed to relish the challenge. Brooks gathered the reins back in as she tapped out the final strides of the five furlong workout. She despised the sudden grip on her mouth and threw her head up, nearly plugging him in the face.
Laura pulled Rou into the middle of the track, keeping well clear of the striking filly. Rou pricked his ears at the wire, knowing he had finished his job. He barreled on by Leah, cocking his ears her way when she bolted after him. Laura pulled him off to the side, just in time for the Ashes to Ashes daughter to blow by them again.
"That's it," Ripley muttered. "Next time she goes out for a workout, she's going to be glued to a pick up pony. That witch is way too smart for her own good."
"And way too fast," Mal commented. "Even with the fighting she hit the five in :58... And this is a deep track, Rips..."
Ripley groaned and turned back for the barn. "At least Rou hit 1:00 on the dot. I know he's ready. He was born ready to race. I just hope she didn't kill herself off for her first start."
Mal didn't watch Ripley leave. He was busy watching the filly put up a fuss. If she even had an ounce of that energy for her first race, Lea was going to run monstrously well. He snorted and rubbed his hands down his face. Roussong trotted up, head bobbing side to side as if he knew he was good shit. Mal met him at the gate and gave him a big pat on the neck. "Great heads up riding, Laura. He went perfectly."
"Thanks," Laura said, eyes glinting with pride. "I'm glad one of these horses is going to live through the night."
Mal chuckled and sighed when Brooks and the filly came jogging up to the gap. Brooks looked outright forlorn, but the filly didn't. Lea looked downright pleased with herself. Mal shook his head when he grabbed a hold of her and led her back to the barn. He wasn't going to count her out just yet. She wouldn't even blow a candle out after all of that.
Gold Standard
Three Furlong Workout
Gold Rush with David Carter aboard
Eternally Smoldering with Justin Santiago aboard
Ripley figured she had some of the stoutest distance horses in the bunch. The two powering down the dirt path now were probably at the top of her prospects. One she'd bred two years ago and seen bloom into an Adonis of sorts. He was elegant and muscular. He had the gentle knowing eye and the sculpted face of an equine statue. He was Gold Rush and he was her golden boy. His lines were extremely unique and very recent. Frontier had gone from an unknown quantity to one of the hottest sires thanks to his gorgeous and legendary daughter Night Shade. Witch Creek hadn't waited around for the end of that filly's career. They'd bred Gold Rush just as Nightshade was starting her four year old season.
The other horse that followed Gold Rush down the track was impeccable. He was stout with a thick chest and a dark eye. He moved with a confident swing and harnessed strength underneath Justin Santiago. Justin looked like he he'd won the lottery. He kept reaching down to give the handsome colt a pat on his thick neck. Why wouldn't he? Justin had ridden Eternally Smoldering's dam to a Breeders' Cup Turf Marathon victory and the award as Y13's Best Stayer Mare. Although Witch Creek had bred the DW Flamekissed and Dazzling Dame son for North Diamond Manor, it was only fitting the horse run his first year under Witch Creek's tutelage.
Ripley prayed for success for both colts. Gold Rush would be a new era for Witch Creek and, hopefully, he would follow in Casualty Of War's hoofsteps as a top stud prospect upon retirement. Gold Rush's lines would be important to match against all the Touch Up daughters and granddaughters within Witch Creek's ranks. She met the quartet just as they branched off to the left for the turf track. Flame flared his nostrils and snorted, eyes widening in mock fear. He stomped over the turf and half reared, putting on a show for everyone. "He's just as fiery as his mama," Justin explained.
"He can be fiery, but he needs to keep those toes on the ground," Ripley said, taking a hold on the colt's bridle. "How's he been this morning?"
Justin shook his head, glanced back at Gold Rush who bobbed along quietly, ears flicking overhead. Gold Rush was a mild child in the barn. You could rub him all over, crawl under him and over him. He didn't care. He was a happy horse and very much a first for the Witch Creek staff. "He's not been the perfect angel like Gold Rush, but he's been perfect for Flame."
"Hey!" David protested with a blazing smile. "Envy is frowned upon." Justin and Ripley laughed at that, but their eyes were stern. There was more at stake with this colt. They could afford to take their time with Gold Rush and develop him, but Flame's manners needed to be taught and his skills sharpened. The pressure was almost material, but Ripley barely showed any of its effects. As far as she was concerned, Flame was as much theirs as North Diamond Manors if only for the moment.
"We're just going to do a standard workout. We don't need to go too far, too soon with them. Remember, beside the one month that we give them off, they're running at least thirteen times a year over the course of twelve months. We want fresh, strong horses for the Breeders' Cup. If they're not fresh and training strong, we don't go to the Breeders' Cup."
"Isn't it a little too early for that kind of talk?" David taunted. He grinned at Ripley's look of disdain. "Sorry. I forget we're not like normal barns who take it one race at a time."
"Got that right," Ripley said. She walked around the colts one last time before they broke off at the flag, one mile from the three furlong flat. Flame danced in place, mouth filled with lather. His hooves danced and punched holes in the ground. Gold Rush seemed to just look at him like, "Dude, what are you doing?" The golden colt tossed his head and waited patiently for David to give him his cue.
"Just a mile gallop and the three furlong flat today," Ripley said after her once over was complete. "Meet you at the end. Keep them going at a solid gallop through the wire. I want good efforts out of these horses."
She leaped into her golf cart and stepped on the gas. One last glance at the juvenile colts told her everything she needed to know. Flame was rip-roaring to go and Gold Rush was ready to roll. She pushed the pedal to the floor and didn't look back.
Flame half-reared when the jocks gave their horses the signal to go. He jumped off of his hind end, almost leaping two feet in the air. Justin shook his head at the antics and then threw the reins at the colt. He bounded forward, snorting and throwing his head up. Already, Flame was three lengths behind Gold Rush. Justin sucked in a big breath and forced himself to relax. The bay juvenile tore after his fleet stablemate, ears pinned back into his thick black mane. This one was a royal spitfire and much harder to handle than expected.
David had no such problems with Gold Rush. The affable son of Frontier floated over the turf hills, ears pricked and eyes kind. Every now and then he'd mouth the bit excitedly and snort, but never did he yank for me. He applied light pressure, but relented when David said no. He was malleable and confident. He cruised along at a good clip, flicking his ears over his head as he went along. He seemed to be waiting on Eternally Smoldering, very interested in his workmate's challenge.
Flame was bounding along now, his mouth hard on the bit. Justin's arms burned from the effort of holding the DW Flamekissed colt back, but in a good way. This horse was made for distance and made for fighting. Justin loosened the reins, battling his own instinct to put the horse under a chokehold. Flame responded by settling into a larger stride and by rating off of the bit. He was only two lengths back from Gold Rush now, but Justin was sure if he asked the colt, Flame would swallow the distance with ease.
Gold Rush tossed his head for the first time when David pulled back on the reins at the top of the last hillside. The gorgeous protested vehemently, hooves skittering close to the edge of the hill. David leaned far back in the saddle, pushing down the horse's hind end. Rush's eyes flashed, but he did listen. Flame caught up and joined Rush in the descent. Both colts maneuvered the hillside and leaped into the flat with verve.
Justin was nearly tossed over Flame's rump when the colt took off. Holy crap was he like his mama! He had a ferocious kick, almost quarter horse like in his speed. Flame got the jump on Gold Rush through the first half-furlong, but Rush wasn't going to be outdone. Rush poured it on down the flat, legs spreading until he was almost parallel to the ground. Flame let out a squeak and kicked out with his hind legs, startling both him and Justin. "Stop that, dude."
Gold Rush gained the advantage right then and he had no intentions of giving it back. The lean colt dashed through the final furlongs, maintaining a strict half-length lead throughout. The colts clocked an impressive :36 1/5 for the three furlongs and galloped out strongly up the final hill. Flame was blowing on the way back, snorting and pawing every so often. His body shook with anger and he trumpeted a challenge at Gold Rush's back. Rush didn't respond though. He just swaggered away, tipping his head back and forth like a horse that knew he'd won the battle.
Gold Rush with David Carter aboard
Eternally Smoldering with Justin Santiago aboard
Ripley figured she had some of the stoutest distance horses in the bunch. The two powering down the dirt path now were probably at the top of her prospects. One she'd bred two years ago and seen bloom into an Adonis of sorts. He was elegant and muscular. He had the gentle knowing eye and the sculpted face of an equine statue. He was Gold Rush and he was her golden boy. His lines were extremely unique and very recent. Frontier had gone from an unknown quantity to one of the hottest sires thanks to his gorgeous and legendary daughter Night Shade. Witch Creek hadn't waited around for the end of that filly's career. They'd bred Gold Rush just as Nightshade was starting her four year old season.
The other horse that followed Gold Rush down the track was impeccable. He was stout with a thick chest and a dark eye. He moved with a confident swing and harnessed strength underneath Justin Santiago. Justin looked like he he'd won the lottery. He kept reaching down to give the handsome colt a pat on his thick neck. Why wouldn't he? Justin had ridden Eternally Smoldering's dam to a Breeders' Cup Turf Marathon victory and the award as Y13's Best Stayer Mare. Although Witch Creek had bred the DW Flamekissed and Dazzling Dame son for North Diamond Manor, it was only fitting the horse run his first year under Witch Creek's tutelage.
Ripley prayed for success for both colts. Gold Rush would be a new era for Witch Creek and, hopefully, he would follow in Casualty Of War's hoofsteps as a top stud prospect upon retirement. Gold Rush's lines would be important to match against all the Touch Up daughters and granddaughters within Witch Creek's ranks. She met the quartet just as they branched off to the left for the turf track. Flame flared his nostrils and snorted, eyes widening in mock fear. He stomped over the turf and half reared, putting on a show for everyone. "He's just as fiery as his mama," Justin explained.
"He can be fiery, but he needs to keep those toes on the ground," Ripley said, taking a hold on the colt's bridle. "How's he been this morning?"
Justin shook his head, glanced back at Gold Rush who bobbed along quietly, ears flicking overhead. Gold Rush was a mild child in the barn. You could rub him all over, crawl under him and over him. He didn't care. He was a happy horse and very much a first for the Witch Creek staff. "He's not been the perfect angel like Gold Rush, but he's been perfect for Flame."
"Hey!" David protested with a blazing smile. "Envy is frowned upon." Justin and Ripley laughed at that, but their eyes were stern. There was more at stake with this colt. They could afford to take their time with Gold Rush and develop him, but Flame's manners needed to be taught and his skills sharpened. The pressure was almost material, but Ripley barely showed any of its effects. As far as she was concerned, Flame was as much theirs as North Diamond Manors if only for the moment.
"We're just going to do a standard workout. We don't need to go too far, too soon with them. Remember, beside the one month that we give them off, they're running at least thirteen times a year over the course of twelve months. We want fresh, strong horses for the Breeders' Cup. If they're not fresh and training strong, we don't go to the Breeders' Cup."
"Isn't it a little too early for that kind of talk?" David taunted. He grinned at Ripley's look of disdain. "Sorry. I forget we're not like normal barns who take it one race at a time."
"Got that right," Ripley said. She walked around the colts one last time before they broke off at the flag, one mile from the three furlong flat. Flame danced in place, mouth filled with lather. His hooves danced and punched holes in the ground. Gold Rush seemed to just look at him like, "Dude, what are you doing?" The golden colt tossed his head and waited patiently for David to give him his cue.
"Just a mile gallop and the three furlong flat today," Ripley said after her once over was complete. "Meet you at the end. Keep them going at a solid gallop through the wire. I want good efforts out of these horses."
She leaped into her golf cart and stepped on the gas. One last glance at the juvenile colts told her everything she needed to know. Flame was rip-roaring to go and Gold Rush was ready to roll. She pushed the pedal to the floor and didn't look back.
Flame half-reared when the jocks gave their horses the signal to go. He jumped off of his hind end, almost leaping two feet in the air. Justin shook his head at the antics and then threw the reins at the colt. He bounded forward, snorting and throwing his head up. Already, Flame was three lengths behind Gold Rush. Justin sucked in a big breath and forced himself to relax. The bay juvenile tore after his fleet stablemate, ears pinned back into his thick black mane. This one was a royal spitfire and much harder to handle than expected.
David had no such problems with Gold Rush. The affable son of Frontier floated over the turf hills, ears pricked and eyes kind. Every now and then he'd mouth the bit excitedly and snort, but never did he yank for me. He applied light pressure, but relented when David said no. He was malleable and confident. He cruised along at a good clip, flicking his ears over his head as he went along. He seemed to be waiting on Eternally Smoldering, very interested in his workmate's challenge.
Flame was bounding along now, his mouth hard on the bit. Justin's arms burned from the effort of holding the DW Flamekissed colt back, but in a good way. This horse was made for distance and made for fighting. Justin loosened the reins, battling his own instinct to put the horse under a chokehold. Flame responded by settling into a larger stride and by rating off of the bit. He was only two lengths back from Gold Rush now, but Justin was sure if he asked the colt, Flame would swallow the distance with ease.
Gold Rush tossed his head for the first time when David pulled back on the reins at the top of the last hillside. The gorgeous protested vehemently, hooves skittering close to the edge of the hill. David leaned far back in the saddle, pushing down the horse's hind end. Rush's eyes flashed, but he did listen. Flame caught up and joined Rush in the descent. Both colts maneuvered the hillside and leaped into the flat with verve.
Justin was nearly tossed over Flame's rump when the colt took off. Holy crap was he like his mama! He had a ferocious kick, almost quarter horse like in his speed. Flame got the jump on Gold Rush through the first half-furlong, but Rush wasn't going to be outdone. Rush poured it on down the flat, legs spreading until he was almost parallel to the ground. Flame let out a squeak and kicked out with his hind legs, startling both him and Justin. "Stop that, dude."
Gold Rush gained the advantage right then and he had no intentions of giving it back. The lean colt dashed through the final furlongs, maintaining a strict half-length lead throughout. The colts clocked an impressive :36 1/5 for the three furlongs and galloped out strongly up the final hill. Flame was blowing on the way back, snorting and pawing every so often. His body shook with anger and he trumpeted a challenge at Gold Rush's back. Rush didn't respond though. He just swaggered away, tipping his head back and forth like a horse that knew he'd won the battle.
Long Awaited
Three Furlong Workout
Kismet with Reese Balling Jones aboard
Game Over with Maggiletti Reynolds aboard
Malcolm chuckled from his seat in the golf cart beside Ripley. The trainer had her hands full of the writhing almost one year old Keller. The blond boy whined and wiggled in her arms, throwing a hissy fit the likes of which Mal had ever seen. Ripley was taking it all in stride though. She bounced her knee steadily under the boy until he gradually shut up and started looking around. She flashed Mal a mixed look of exasperation and nerves.
"Hey, don't look at me to help you out? You're the mama here. I just babysit on occasion. You're free to do whatever you want, short of threatening to pitch him into the manure pile."
She laughed at the and moved Keller to sit in between them on the seat. She pushed her thick auburn hair back over her shoulder and looked off toward the barn. "You know what's sad Malcolm Floyd... I actually have threatened to pitch him into the manure pile. He doesn't quite get the concept yet so I'll have to use that threat for when he has any sense of comprehension."
Mal threw his arm around Ripley's shoulders and grinned. "Wise words, Ripley Marsh."
"I try my best," she responds with a quirky smile. "Now... where are these horses so we can district Mr. Keller with a ride on the golf cart."
A soft fog envelopes the turf hills, creating an ethereal like environment for the first set of three. Two juveniles pairs and one experienced pair would get the chance to take the turf hills for a test drive. Anticipation made the hair on Ripley's arm stand up. She could hardly wait for the next match. One of them was a daughter of her own Wire Champion, the first she'd get to race. Kismet was a highly regarded filly, had been since her first days of life. The sleek dappled filly was a bit of an energetic nutcase, but she had speed and will. She was brilliant and today would mark her very first workout of her life.
Similarly, Game Over was energetic and slightly more willful on the track. She'd been a challenge with that fiery attitude and an eagerness to prove that she was just as strong as the humans that wanted to control, contain and ride her. The Wannabe Hero and The Goodness daughter was a pretty little thing, delicate and whimsical in appearance. she was a china doll with an interest in laying down the law every once in a while. Ripley and Malcolm learned very quickly in her early training that she would tolerate the manhandling. She'd fight back and only focus on the conflict, not on running or doing her actual job.
Reese kept her seat light on Kiz. The gray filly tossed her head every few strides. She shifted now and then, pinning her ears at Game Over or jigging to let Reese know that this walk was not very cool at all. In Reese's mind, this filly was a whole lot like Taboo, except for her predictability. She wore ear muffs and blinkers. She would be adorned with a gate blanket when it came time to running and she would not be touched with a whip. EVER. Reese wanted to live and this uber sensitive daughter of Deadly Desires was not going to get her killed. Reese played with the filly's light gray mane, smiling when Kiz flicked her ears and licked her lips. "Atta girl, Kiz. You just have to play nice with me for a little while and then you can go back to your stall."
The neat bay filly that trotted beneath Maggie covered the ground with very little pizzazz, but Maggie could feel the athleticism. This one was sharp and quick. If Maggie so much as lifted a pinkie, the bay filly would shift. She seemed to find anything Maggie requested to do to be apart of a game. For such a willful filly, she was devoted to figuring out her human. A smile spread over Maggie's face when they finally reached Malcolm, Ripley and Keller.
"About time," Ripley said stiffly. She shot a tired glance in the direction of Keller who was busying himself with Malcolm's long hair. "Brooks bailed on me to go place entries for us. He's got to make trucking plans and whatnot." She paused briefly to scan the two fillies, finally nodding in approval. "They both look good. We'll keep it shorter with them since they're awfully light in stature. Mile gallop over the hills leading into the three furlong stretch. Breezes only. Think muscle development for the first half of the work and wind development for the latter."
"Horseys!" Keller cried. He was trapped in Malcolm's lap, bright eyes focused on the bay and gray fillies. Game Over twitched at the sight of the little boy, unnerved by his high pitched voice. Kismet merely ignored him which told Reese the ear muffs were working just fine. "You got it, boss," Reese exclaimed. She nodded to Maggie and both of them turned the horses away from the little vehicle. The fog toned down the sound of the golf cart's purr, but Babe still shivered. She knew today was different and tilted her head to look back over her shoulder at the disappearing object.
We're ready when you are," Maggie said quietly. She turned Babe in a tight circle, waking her up just a little bit for what was going to happen next. The filly snorted, pinning her ears when Kismet came too close for her liking. Kiz was unperturbed though. She merely snaked her head out at her workmate, reminding Babe that in the pasture and the barn, she was the queen bee. Reese grumbled under her breath and fingered the reins. "Enough politics girls."
The women smiled at one another, a great wave of eagerness coming over them. The fillies felt the change, each pulling harder on the bit. This time no one was saying no. Babe went from a trot to a canter, from canter to gallop. Each stride was perfectly in sync and absolutely gorgeous. The filly was a sensational mover, a dancer, a gazelle. anything graceful would describe her. Maggie lowered her hands to the fillies perfectly sculpted neck and glanced backward.
Reese was poised on Kismet's back as the filly negotiated the first hillside. Her ears kept flicking around like she was trying to hear what was going on, but gradually they focused forward. Reese let the reins slide through her hands until Kiz's motion wasn't so choppy, until she galloped strongly after her workmate. She'd inherited her father's uncomfortable gaits at the slower paces, but at a racing gallop she was as smooth and powerful as the next horse.
Neither filly was intent on the lead, a result of Mal's steady early training. If these two could be versatile enough to let the speeds run away from them, they would be dangerous throughout their careers. Game Over and Kismet glided through the gallop, Babe a nonchalant head in front. Her whole attention was focused on just doing slightly better than Kismet. Maggie played around on her back, pretending that she was looking for people behind them. Game Over just kept on trucking, solid and dependable.
The final hillside into the flat came much quicker than usual and both fillies reacted to it. Kiz tossed her head and snorted. Game Over began to pull, repeatedly getting reprimands from Maggie. Neither filly would be allowed to hurtle down the edge into the flat. Game Over pinned her ears in rejection of the new control, but she settled down once she realized she needed to focus on her feet.
Kiz floated down the hillside, her every toe placed perfectly to navigate the run. Reese kept herself leaned back in the saddle, biding her time and keeping her ride focused and balanced. "Settle girl," she murmured quietly. "Two more seconds and you can run as fast as you like."
Game Over leaped the final foot of the hill and took off full bore for the other side of the gap. Maggie wrapped her hands into the flying back mane and told herself to breathe. Babe was not going to just run away with her. "Easy, Babe," Maggie crooned gently. "You've got to calm down."
Kismet coasted just off of Game Over's flank. Her ears bounced up and down above her head, as if she wasn't quite decided on how much energy she wanted to put into this workout. Reese let the reins loosen and smiled when the filly simply extended her stride and kept up with Babe. Babe's bay rump glimmered in a break of morning sunshine, drawing closer and closer. Maggie had finally gained control over her little hot-rod. Reese watched Maggie give the filly a pat on the neck, admitted being impressed by the filly's willingness to come back from a speed frenzy.
The pair passed through the final furlong, legs blurring under them when their riders turned them loose. Babe kept up with her stubbornness, but Reese was quite positive Kiz had her measure. This was Kiz's prime surface and her demeanor suggested this was a cake walk. Reese flicked the reins at her, testing just a little bit. In a snap, Kiz was at Game Over's head and then she was passing her workmate, a blazing move without relatively any effort.
Maggie growled low in her chest, and chirped to Babe. The gutsy filly dug in, giving chase and closing in on her taunter. The Wannabe Hero daughter rolled up alongside Kiz, but never could get by her in the final yards, finishing second by a half-length. "That's a good girl, Babe," Maggie called cheerfully.
Mal and Ripley exchanged a long look as the fillies cantered out of the flat and up the next hill to cool down. Kiz and Babe had just steamrolled through the flat, putting on a dazzling display of brilliance. Although Babe had lost, Ripley was quite confident that over the dirt it would have been a different story. The hard trier versus the regally bred filly gave Ripley a quiet confidence that she needed for Year Sixteen's juvenile races.
Kismet with Reese Balling Jones aboard
Game Over with Maggiletti Reynolds aboard
Malcolm chuckled from his seat in the golf cart beside Ripley. The trainer had her hands full of the writhing almost one year old Keller. The blond boy whined and wiggled in her arms, throwing a hissy fit the likes of which Mal had ever seen. Ripley was taking it all in stride though. She bounced her knee steadily under the boy until he gradually shut up and started looking around. She flashed Mal a mixed look of exasperation and nerves.
"Hey, don't look at me to help you out? You're the mama here. I just babysit on occasion. You're free to do whatever you want, short of threatening to pitch him into the manure pile."
She laughed at the and moved Keller to sit in between them on the seat. She pushed her thick auburn hair back over her shoulder and looked off toward the barn. "You know what's sad Malcolm Floyd... I actually have threatened to pitch him into the manure pile. He doesn't quite get the concept yet so I'll have to use that threat for when he has any sense of comprehension."
Mal threw his arm around Ripley's shoulders and grinned. "Wise words, Ripley Marsh."
"I try my best," she responds with a quirky smile. "Now... where are these horses so we can district Mr. Keller with a ride on the golf cart."
A soft fog envelopes the turf hills, creating an ethereal like environment for the first set of three. Two juveniles pairs and one experienced pair would get the chance to take the turf hills for a test drive. Anticipation made the hair on Ripley's arm stand up. She could hardly wait for the next match. One of them was a daughter of her own Wire Champion, the first she'd get to race. Kismet was a highly regarded filly, had been since her first days of life. The sleek dappled filly was a bit of an energetic nutcase, but she had speed and will. She was brilliant and today would mark her very first workout of her life.
Similarly, Game Over was energetic and slightly more willful on the track. She'd been a challenge with that fiery attitude and an eagerness to prove that she was just as strong as the humans that wanted to control, contain and ride her. The Wannabe Hero and The Goodness daughter was a pretty little thing, delicate and whimsical in appearance. she was a china doll with an interest in laying down the law every once in a while. Ripley and Malcolm learned very quickly in her early training that she would tolerate the manhandling. She'd fight back and only focus on the conflict, not on running or doing her actual job.
Reese kept her seat light on Kiz. The gray filly tossed her head every few strides. She shifted now and then, pinning her ears at Game Over or jigging to let Reese know that this walk was not very cool at all. In Reese's mind, this filly was a whole lot like Taboo, except for her predictability. She wore ear muffs and blinkers. She would be adorned with a gate blanket when it came time to running and she would not be touched with a whip. EVER. Reese wanted to live and this uber sensitive daughter of Deadly Desires was not going to get her killed. Reese played with the filly's light gray mane, smiling when Kiz flicked her ears and licked her lips. "Atta girl, Kiz. You just have to play nice with me for a little while and then you can go back to your stall."
The neat bay filly that trotted beneath Maggie covered the ground with very little pizzazz, but Maggie could feel the athleticism. This one was sharp and quick. If Maggie so much as lifted a pinkie, the bay filly would shift. She seemed to find anything Maggie requested to do to be apart of a game. For such a willful filly, she was devoted to figuring out her human. A smile spread over Maggie's face when they finally reached Malcolm, Ripley and Keller.
"About time," Ripley said stiffly. She shot a tired glance in the direction of Keller who was busying himself with Malcolm's long hair. "Brooks bailed on me to go place entries for us. He's got to make trucking plans and whatnot." She paused briefly to scan the two fillies, finally nodding in approval. "They both look good. We'll keep it shorter with them since they're awfully light in stature. Mile gallop over the hills leading into the three furlong stretch. Breezes only. Think muscle development for the first half of the work and wind development for the latter."
"Horseys!" Keller cried. He was trapped in Malcolm's lap, bright eyes focused on the bay and gray fillies. Game Over twitched at the sight of the little boy, unnerved by his high pitched voice. Kismet merely ignored him which told Reese the ear muffs were working just fine. "You got it, boss," Reese exclaimed. She nodded to Maggie and both of them turned the horses away from the little vehicle. The fog toned down the sound of the golf cart's purr, but Babe still shivered. She knew today was different and tilted her head to look back over her shoulder at the disappearing object.
We're ready when you are," Maggie said quietly. She turned Babe in a tight circle, waking her up just a little bit for what was going to happen next. The filly snorted, pinning her ears when Kismet came too close for her liking. Kiz was unperturbed though. She merely snaked her head out at her workmate, reminding Babe that in the pasture and the barn, she was the queen bee. Reese grumbled under her breath and fingered the reins. "Enough politics girls."
The women smiled at one another, a great wave of eagerness coming over them. The fillies felt the change, each pulling harder on the bit. This time no one was saying no. Babe went from a trot to a canter, from canter to gallop. Each stride was perfectly in sync and absolutely gorgeous. The filly was a sensational mover, a dancer, a gazelle. anything graceful would describe her. Maggie lowered her hands to the fillies perfectly sculpted neck and glanced backward.
Reese was poised on Kismet's back as the filly negotiated the first hillside. Her ears kept flicking around like she was trying to hear what was going on, but gradually they focused forward. Reese let the reins slide through her hands until Kiz's motion wasn't so choppy, until she galloped strongly after her workmate. She'd inherited her father's uncomfortable gaits at the slower paces, but at a racing gallop she was as smooth and powerful as the next horse.
Neither filly was intent on the lead, a result of Mal's steady early training. If these two could be versatile enough to let the speeds run away from them, they would be dangerous throughout their careers. Game Over and Kismet glided through the gallop, Babe a nonchalant head in front. Her whole attention was focused on just doing slightly better than Kismet. Maggie played around on her back, pretending that she was looking for people behind them. Game Over just kept on trucking, solid and dependable.
The final hillside into the flat came much quicker than usual and both fillies reacted to it. Kiz tossed her head and snorted. Game Over began to pull, repeatedly getting reprimands from Maggie. Neither filly would be allowed to hurtle down the edge into the flat. Game Over pinned her ears in rejection of the new control, but she settled down once she realized she needed to focus on her feet.
Kiz floated down the hillside, her every toe placed perfectly to navigate the run. Reese kept herself leaned back in the saddle, biding her time and keeping her ride focused and balanced. "Settle girl," she murmured quietly. "Two more seconds and you can run as fast as you like."
Game Over leaped the final foot of the hill and took off full bore for the other side of the gap. Maggie wrapped her hands into the flying back mane and told herself to breathe. Babe was not going to just run away with her. "Easy, Babe," Maggie crooned gently. "You've got to calm down."
Kismet coasted just off of Game Over's flank. Her ears bounced up and down above her head, as if she wasn't quite decided on how much energy she wanted to put into this workout. Reese let the reins loosen and smiled when the filly simply extended her stride and kept up with Babe. Babe's bay rump glimmered in a break of morning sunshine, drawing closer and closer. Maggie had finally gained control over her little hot-rod. Reese watched Maggie give the filly a pat on the neck, admitted being impressed by the filly's willingness to come back from a speed frenzy.
The pair passed through the final furlong, legs blurring under them when their riders turned them loose. Babe kept up with her stubbornness, but Reese was quite positive Kiz had her measure. This was Kiz's prime surface and her demeanor suggested this was a cake walk. Reese flicked the reins at her, testing just a little bit. In a snap, Kiz was at Game Over's head and then she was passing her workmate, a blazing move without relatively any effort.
Maggie growled low in her chest, and chirped to Babe. The gutsy filly dug in, giving chase and closing in on her taunter. The Wannabe Hero daughter rolled up alongside Kiz, but never could get by her in the final yards, finishing second by a half-length. "That's a good girl, Babe," Maggie called cheerfully.
Mal and Ripley exchanged a long look as the fillies cantered out of the flat and up the next hill to cool down. Kiz and Babe had just steamrolled through the flat, putting on a dazzling display of brilliance. Although Babe had lost, Ripley was quite confident that over the dirt it would have been a different story. The hard trier versus the regally bred filly gave Ripley a quiet confidence that she needed for Year Sixteen's juvenile races.
Concentration
Six Furlong Workout
Cascabel with Brookson Wells aboard
Breaking Point with Laura DeComte aboard
Ripley was eager to get the last two works over and done with today. She wanted to go home and curl up with a book with her son tucked neatly into her lap. She rubbed her belly absentmindedly, feeling a wave of the nausea again this morning. She glanced down the rail, checking to make sure that Malcolm wasn't watching her. She didn't need of her two guard dogs leaping on her for skipping breakfast this morning. That's all it was really. She'd been in a hurry and forgotten to grab something to eat. Now it was ten o'clock and here she was, still waiting for her runners.
Mal reached her just as she was about to snarl. He tilted his head, blue eyes skimming over her taunt face. "You okay?"
"Just dandy," Ripley replied. She brushed her hands back through her hair, shaking out the hay she must have gathered during feeding. "Where are these guys? We've got to get moving. We have horses to do up and stalls to clean."
"And you have nothing to do with that," Mal countered. He squeezed the rail and shook his head. "Just hold your horses, Marsh. Breaking Point was giving Laura a bit of trouble in the barn. He's got a bit of an attitude today because he knows it's time to get to work. Horse has a calendar in his head, I swear."
Ripley sighed, felt another rolling wave of nausea and shuffled to the bench that was placed along the rail. Mal didn't miss this time. She cursed when he stalked over and crouched before her. "Marsh?"
"It's nothing," she growled. "Just hungry that's all." In order to avoid Mal's searching gaze, Ripley glanced up the hillside and pasted a worn smile on her face. "The horses are here, Malcolm."
It should be illegal for much elegance to exist in the body of a horse. Cascabel danced down the hillside, knees sharp with every movement and dainty ears flicking over the top of his classic head. He was a gorgeous specimen with a gleaming bay body dappled out to the nines. Brooks looked like a prince sitting on his back, tall and quietly confident. Cas's soft eyes drifted over the track and he began to mouth his bit, breaking the initial charm up with a much needed reminder that he was only a juvenile.
Breaking Point trailed him, although, not of his own accord. Laura kept squeezing the reins, doing anything to pace the powerful looking colt. Breaking Point was a handful, a picture with a jet black tail almost touched the ground as he walked. Breaker's body was more of a powerhouse, a result of his breeding through the Underdog and from there to War Admiral. This handsome horse had the lines to be a running sensation and he sure looked every inch a future pop star. His dark bay coat glittered with a light sheen of excited sweat and his intelligence was betrayed by sharp eyes.
"They look absolutely incredible," Ripley stated. Mal nodded along, distracted only for the moment from what he just witnessed. Ripley stepped up to the rail as the horses reached level ground and proudly strutted onto the track. Cascabel tossed his head and side stepped, bowing his neck and flexing those perfectly shaped muscles. Brooks grinned at Ripley. "This one's a showman."
Breaker crow hopped in protest of being pulled up, but when Cascabel was brought to a stop before his trainers, Breaker seemed to take notice. The colt flicked his ears in embarrassment, looking down the track as if to pretend the humans weren't actually watching behave so foolishly. Ripley smirked. "He thinks he is so naughty, both of them do, but they're actually the most easygoing horses in the crop."
Laura snorted, "And that's saying something. Wait til we get pony horses up alongside of them and then tell me their easygoing. These colts would love nothing more than to get the chance to muscle some poor unsuspecting pony around. I can just hear the calls now."
Malcolm rolled his eyes and leaned over the rail. "Oh hush. We don't need a jinx and Ripley already made sure to write it down on the entries that the ponies better have shields if they're going to keep up with these two. I don't want to see any horses missing parts of their manes because the boys got a little too friendly."
Brooks patted Cascabel's neck, grinning when the Prince Charming son twisted around to nudge his boot. "Yeah, yeah. I'm sure we're going soon enough. Hold it together, buddy."
"They're both starting out in nine furlong races. Breaker will be up first in the Knickerbocker Stakes, Cascabel will run week two. I want a good workout that gets faster the longer they run. Let's put some air in those lungs. Neither of them run very sharply to start their workouts so this will be good practice for what will come. Go six furlongs, end around 1:11."
The riders nodded and nudged their horses along. Breaker ripped a little buck, but settled right into his ground eating lope. He pinned his ears at Cascabel, but the other colt didn't even acknowledge him. Cas was too worried about putting on a show. He galloped impressively over the track, ears pricked straight up in the air, his gallop as smooth as glass. Mal let out a low wolf whistle when the colt danced right on by Breaker. "He's going to be a live one."
Brooks was thinking the same thing. He tightened the reins, getting a solid feel on Cas's mouth. The light colt pressed up against the bit, flashing good energy and a willingness to run. "Easy there, hoss," Brooks crooned.
Laura chattered away in Breaker's ear as the two colts completed their warm up lopes and then moved into the gallop strides. Cascabel broke off quickly, leaping into the air and then floating away effortlessly. Breaker snorted when dirt kicked up into his broad chest, but he didn't give pursuit like Laura expected. Every sign pointed toward this horse being a dynamo and yet he just galloped steadily over the track, ears flicking over his head like he had nowhere better to be. "You another Nirvana type?" she asked quietly.
Cascabel glided over the track, pulling four lengths in front of Breaking Point. Brooks was sitting as chilly as can be in the tiny racing saddle, his hands measuring out the perfect length of rein to give the comfortable son of Ashanti. He wondered if this is what it was like to ride Fusillade, Ashanti's other elegant son. He knew Ashes to Ashes had also carried this kind of speed when he ran. It was delightful to having a cruising type, one that you could just press the button and find an answer. Brooks glanced under his arm and narrowed his eyes. Breaker was now five lengths back and galloping strongly at the rail, but relatively unhurried.
Laura counted the time off in her head, measuring both that and the ease of Cascabel's stride. The Prince Charming colt was going to be hard to reel in, but Breaker was a powerhouse. He wasn't totally like Nirvana. He had speed to him and he was more willing. She tucked her whip up into the air, letting it swing rhythmically to Breaker's stride. The heavy dark bay colt was thrumming along like an engine and he was just doing it oh so easy. Three furlongs out from the wire, Laura tapped the reins.
Ripley sucked in a breath when Breaker's effortless strides turned aggressive. He attacked the ground like a big cat and covered so much of it without much effort at all. In a matter of seconds, Breaker had inhaled the easy lead that Cascabel had on him and was pounding up along that colt's outside. Cas didn't throw in the towel by any means. He may look pretty, but he had the heart of a lion. He threw back Breaker's challenge, pinned his ears and kicked on, but he couldn't really put separation between himself and the heavy colt.
The duo whirled through the turn so quickly that their legs blurred beneath their bodies and neither trainer was certain when they swapped their leads. Mal was shaking his head in amazement as the pair steamrolled through the stretch, locked in battle and always looking as if there was more to give. Laura and Brooks were still as statues as the two colts surged through the wire and into the gallop out.
Ripley let out a short laugh and stopped the time when they hit seven furlongs. "1:24. That's great... Just imagine what they'll do when they actually have some speed to run down. Perhaps, we have the next generation of power colts once again..."
"Only time will tell," Malcolm murmured. He looped an arm around Ripley's shoulders as the colts were brought back to a lope and then buoyant trots. "Now let's see about getting something for you to eat before the final set today." Ripley sighed mockingly, but allowed herself to be turned away from her future potential stars. Time would definitely tell when it came to these two brave hearted beasts.
Cascabel with Brookson Wells aboard
Breaking Point with Laura DeComte aboard
Ripley was eager to get the last two works over and done with today. She wanted to go home and curl up with a book with her son tucked neatly into her lap. She rubbed her belly absentmindedly, feeling a wave of the nausea again this morning. She glanced down the rail, checking to make sure that Malcolm wasn't watching her. She didn't need of her two guard dogs leaping on her for skipping breakfast this morning. That's all it was really. She'd been in a hurry and forgotten to grab something to eat. Now it was ten o'clock and here she was, still waiting for her runners.
Mal reached her just as she was about to snarl. He tilted his head, blue eyes skimming over her taunt face. "You okay?"
"Just dandy," Ripley replied. She brushed her hands back through her hair, shaking out the hay she must have gathered during feeding. "Where are these guys? We've got to get moving. We have horses to do up and stalls to clean."
"And you have nothing to do with that," Mal countered. He squeezed the rail and shook his head. "Just hold your horses, Marsh. Breaking Point was giving Laura a bit of trouble in the barn. He's got a bit of an attitude today because he knows it's time to get to work. Horse has a calendar in his head, I swear."
Ripley sighed, felt another rolling wave of nausea and shuffled to the bench that was placed along the rail. Mal didn't miss this time. She cursed when he stalked over and crouched before her. "Marsh?"
"It's nothing," she growled. "Just hungry that's all." In order to avoid Mal's searching gaze, Ripley glanced up the hillside and pasted a worn smile on her face. "The horses are here, Malcolm."
It should be illegal for much elegance to exist in the body of a horse. Cascabel danced down the hillside, knees sharp with every movement and dainty ears flicking over the top of his classic head. He was a gorgeous specimen with a gleaming bay body dappled out to the nines. Brooks looked like a prince sitting on his back, tall and quietly confident. Cas's soft eyes drifted over the track and he began to mouth his bit, breaking the initial charm up with a much needed reminder that he was only a juvenile.
Breaking Point trailed him, although, not of his own accord. Laura kept squeezing the reins, doing anything to pace the powerful looking colt. Breaking Point was a handful, a picture with a jet black tail almost touched the ground as he walked. Breaker's body was more of a powerhouse, a result of his breeding through the Underdog and from there to War Admiral. This handsome horse had the lines to be a running sensation and he sure looked every inch a future pop star. His dark bay coat glittered with a light sheen of excited sweat and his intelligence was betrayed by sharp eyes.
"They look absolutely incredible," Ripley stated. Mal nodded along, distracted only for the moment from what he just witnessed. Ripley stepped up to the rail as the horses reached level ground and proudly strutted onto the track. Cascabel tossed his head and side stepped, bowing his neck and flexing those perfectly shaped muscles. Brooks grinned at Ripley. "This one's a showman."
Breaker crow hopped in protest of being pulled up, but when Cascabel was brought to a stop before his trainers, Breaker seemed to take notice. The colt flicked his ears in embarrassment, looking down the track as if to pretend the humans weren't actually watching behave so foolishly. Ripley smirked. "He thinks he is so naughty, both of them do, but they're actually the most easygoing horses in the crop."
Laura snorted, "And that's saying something. Wait til we get pony horses up alongside of them and then tell me their easygoing. These colts would love nothing more than to get the chance to muscle some poor unsuspecting pony around. I can just hear the calls now."
Malcolm rolled his eyes and leaned over the rail. "Oh hush. We don't need a jinx and Ripley already made sure to write it down on the entries that the ponies better have shields if they're going to keep up with these two. I don't want to see any horses missing parts of their manes because the boys got a little too friendly."
Brooks patted Cascabel's neck, grinning when the Prince Charming son twisted around to nudge his boot. "Yeah, yeah. I'm sure we're going soon enough. Hold it together, buddy."
"They're both starting out in nine furlong races. Breaker will be up first in the Knickerbocker Stakes, Cascabel will run week two. I want a good workout that gets faster the longer they run. Let's put some air in those lungs. Neither of them run very sharply to start their workouts so this will be good practice for what will come. Go six furlongs, end around 1:11."
The riders nodded and nudged their horses along. Breaker ripped a little buck, but settled right into his ground eating lope. He pinned his ears at Cascabel, but the other colt didn't even acknowledge him. Cas was too worried about putting on a show. He galloped impressively over the track, ears pricked straight up in the air, his gallop as smooth as glass. Mal let out a low wolf whistle when the colt danced right on by Breaker. "He's going to be a live one."
Brooks was thinking the same thing. He tightened the reins, getting a solid feel on Cas's mouth. The light colt pressed up against the bit, flashing good energy and a willingness to run. "Easy there, hoss," Brooks crooned.
Laura chattered away in Breaker's ear as the two colts completed their warm up lopes and then moved into the gallop strides. Cascabel broke off quickly, leaping into the air and then floating away effortlessly. Breaker snorted when dirt kicked up into his broad chest, but he didn't give pursuit like Laura expected. Every sign pointed toward this horse being a dynamo and yet he just galloped steadily over the track, ears flicking over his head like he had nowhere better to be. "You another Nirvana type?" she asked quietly.
Cascabel glided over the track, pulling four lengths in front of Breaking Point. Brooks was sitting as chilly as can be in the tiny racing saddle, his hands measuring out the perfect length of rein to give the comfortable son of Ashanti. He wondered if this is what it was like to ride Fusillade, Ashanti's other elegant son. He knew Ashes to Ashes had also carried this kind of speed when he ran. It was delightful to having a cruising type, one that you could just press the button and find an answer. Brooks glanced under his arm and narrowed his eyes. Breaker was now five lengths back and galloping strongly at the rail, but relatively unhurried.
Laura counted the time off in her head, measuring both that and the ease of Cascabel's stride. The Prince Charming colt was going to be hard to reel in, but Breaker was a powerhouse. He wasn't totally like Nirvana. He had speed to him and he was more willing. She tucked her whip up into the air, letting it swing rhythmically to Breaker's stride. The heavy dark bay colt was thrumming along like an engine and he was just doing it oh so easy. Three furlongs out from the wire, Laura tapped the reins.
Ripley sucked in a breath when Breaker's effortless strides turned aggressive. He attacked the ground like a big cat and covered so much of it without much effort at all. In a matter of seconds, Breaker had inhaled the easy lead that Cascabel had on him and was pounding up along that colt's outside. Cas didn't throw in the towel by any means. He may look pretty, but he had the heart of a lion. He threw back Breaker's challenge, pinned his ears and kicked on, but he couldn't really put separation between himself and the heavy colt.
The duo whirled through the turn so quickly that their legs blurred beneath their bodies and neither trainer was certain when they swapped their leads. Mal was shaking his head in amazement as the pair steamrolled through the stretch, locked in battle and always looking as if there was more to give. Laura and Brooks were still as statues as the two colts surged through the wire and into the gallop out.
Ripley let out a short laugh and stopped the time when they hit seven furlongs. "1:24. That's great... Just imagine what they'll do when they actually have some speed to run down. Perhaps, we have the next generation of power colts once again..."
"Only time will tell," Malcolm murmured. He looped an arm around Ripley's shoulders as the colts were brought back to a lope and then buoyant trots. "Now let's see about getting something for you to eat before the final set today." Ripley sighed mockingly, but allowed herself to be turned away from her future potential stars. Time would definitely tell when it came to these two brave hearted beasts.
Under The Radar
Three Furlong Workout
Proteus Prince with Justin Santiago aboard
Flying Fashion with Maggiletti Reynolds aboard
Her nausea long since subsided, Ripley sat proudly aboard an elegant chestnut mare, a mare who had been retired from the racetrack for quite a long time now. She was quite the beauty, regal in her appearance with such a tapered head that she looked more like a china doll than a former racehorse turned broodmare sensation. That was what she was though... El Sol Del Mar had set up a legacy that hadn't been seen since the time of Bank On Silver. Two Horse Of the Years, two Hall of Famers with possibly a third on the way, and all of her offspring but one who hadn't finished his career yet grade one winners, later and El Sol Del Mar was onto her next career as a riding horse for Ripley.
Sunny stood with her tail to the spring wind watching the duo of gray colts as they marched down the dirt track to the flat before her. Ripley twined her hands in the long red mane and grinned when Sunny's ears flattened in protest. Retired she may be, but El Sol Del Mar was not a soft mare. She was a champion and champions had attitude no matter how long it's been since they run. Ripley patted the gorgeous mare's neck and smile when the other two horses finally joined them. "Take it easy on them, Sunny. They haven't met you quite yet and don't know how fiery you can be."
"Intrepid sure makes their horses supersized," Justin commented as he pulled Proteus Prince to a stop on the dirt track. The stallion was quite monstrous in size at 17.1 hands. At the moment, he was the largest horse on the roster and the most imposing. The nearly steel gray horse hadn't lightened up much from three to four, but his confidence had grown immensely. His dainty head scanned the track, eyes bright and eager. He mouthed the bit and pawed the ground, looking every inch a focused runner. Since Prince's arrival late in Year Fifteen, the horse had underdone several training episodes. The high energy of his had to be contained and focused. He learned to think with his brain instead of his boy parts. Witch Creek's daily turnout had been new to him, but Prince had settled down and his hot temper had faded.
"Unlike Captain, we had to take him down several notches," Ripley remarked to Connor, Justin's brother, who was leaning against the rail and had been very quiet up to this point. "He was so amped up after a frustrating season. We threw Captain in our silks the next week and tossed him on the track for a win. Not Prince... Prince was a Malcolm project, but boy doesn't he look special now."
Connor grinned. "Totally special. He definitely looks much more relaxed than he did in November."
Ripley smiled and watched as her riders warmed up Prince and Captain. Flying Fashion was a ball of energy beneath Maggie Reynolds, but if anyone could handle the sprinting speedball, it was Maggie. Captain was cake compared to the ever moody Paranormal Hunter and the utlra-flamboyant Artemis' Glory. Captain truly looked ready to take on the world and already Ripley figured she could turn this one's career right into that of a top sprinter. The talent was there. The brains were there. The speed was insanely there. Other than Optical Illusion, there was nothing that really scared Ripley. Captain would be ready after some seasoning and some more confidence building wins. Already, Ripley was pondering a schedule to get him ready for a return to Intrepid Racing Stable. She would give him the boost and get IRS that sprinting star they needed for their ranks.
Proteus Prince shifted under Justin, pulling on the bridle and gesturing toward the track impatiently. Justin grinned and gave the colt's thick crest a pat. "You sure Intrepid wants him back?"
Ripley rolled her eyes and started walking El Sol Del Mar down the track. The chestnut mare pinned her ears when Flying Fashion bounced enthusiastically at her size. The dappled gray three year old was super hyper, rolling his eyes until they showed white and prancing every stride. His tongue, tied because he would bite it, flopped outside of his mouth in time to his movements. "Just trot him along with us Maggie and then break off on the return lap. Prince can follow along."
Proteus Prince followed along, a gigantic shadow with quiet steps. Justin was impressed with what he felt beneath him: loads of power, an overwhelming sense of pride. His pricked ears stayed locked on El Sol del Mar and Flying Fashion as if he were already planning his attack. The Royal Red Richard son thrashed his head, mouthing the bit as the duo in front of him picked up the pace until they were gliding over the ground. Prince lengthened his stride until he was floating, dramatic even on the practice track.
The one lap went without a hitch. Flying Fashion kept tipping his head toward El Sol del Mar, opening and closing his mouth enthusiastically. The Hall of Fame mare was unimpressed with him. She snaked her head out at him and lifted off the ground a couple times to drive her point home. Ripley shook her head and leaned forward, keeping the legend on the ground. "Just go on without us Maggie. Sunny isn't having any part of him today. I really don't know what's crawled up her butt."
"Maybe it's her half-sister. You just had to bring that other filly in here," Maggie teased, giving Captain a pat on the neck.
"Wouldn't you? You saw her workout video from California," Ripley replied. "I'll take any chance of lightning striking twice."
Justin ranged up on El Sol del Mar's other side. The chestnut pinned her ears again, but she relented to the idea that she would never be rid of these two overly spastic cretins. "What's the workout plan, boss?" Justin asked.
"Three furlongs in :36 flat. Gallop out in :48. I want strong and solid. These two will highly benefit from a fast workout to sharpen them up for their first races back." Ripley halted Sunny, pulling her off to the side of the track. She moved off in the opposite direction while Ripley kept glancing backward at her runners.
Flying Fashion immediately took the lead over Prince. Maggie couldn't believe how buoyant he was in his movement. Everything about him was flashy and excited. Maggie to stood in the stirrups and let the Flying Colours colt move into his free-spirited gallop. He snatched at the bit and tossed his head, but soon settled into a ground swallowing gallop. Maggie glanced under her arm and guided Captain to the railing. Prince was lingering three lengths back, head level with his shoulders and every stride larger than the next. Maggie knew from galloping with the dark horse that he would be gunning for them down the homestretch.
Proteus Prince snorted when a clump of dirt hit him in the chest. Justin guided him to the two path and let the reins fly through his hands. Prince ate up the new freedom, bounding along like a big happy dog. His ears flopped over his head as he charged over the dirt surface, kicking it up in his wake like a child on the beach. "Settle, Prince," Justin crooned. He could feel the big horse chomping at the bit, wishing to swallow Captain alive.
The first furlong whipped by impressively as Captain surged through an opening furlong in :12. Maggie paced her breathing, rationing each moment with perfect control. She refused to mess Captain up for his first start. There was something magical about Flying Fashion. He just did everything so perfectly. He skipped over the ground, head high, nostrils flaring wide as he poured on more speed. "Good boy, Captain."
Justin tossed the reins at Prince the moment the duo swept into the stretch. Prince blinked once, twice before realizing that he was free to run. The horse leveled out, pushing mightily off his hind end and roared forward. His ears slammed down into his black mane, his eyes blazed from the rush of adrenaline. Justin melted down into the colt's neck, peering through his mane to keep an eye on Flying Fashion. Five massive strides later, Prince was on even ground with Captain.
Maggie let her boy loose, grinning like a fool when he responded with a dazzling display of speed. Prince took on the challenge like the pro he was, barreling along until he was back neck and neck with Captain.
The two grays surged through the wire, full of fire and excitement. They powered through the final furlong in 11 seconds and change, marking their re-entry into top fitness. Ripley cheered when the pair swept by her for the first turn. "Now that's what I'm talking about," Ripley laughed. "See that, Sunny. Aren't they incredible?" Sunny merely spun on her heels and jogged back to collect the wayward colts.
Proteus Prince with Justin Santiago aboard
Flying Fashion with Maggiletti Reynolds aboard
Her nausea long since subsided, Ripley sat proudly aboard an elegant chestnut mare, a mare who had been retired from the racetrack for quite a long time now. She was quite the beauty, regal in her appearance with such a tapered head that she looked more like a china doll than a former racehorse turned broodmare sensation. That was what she was though... El Sol Del Mar had set up a legacy that hadn't been seen since the time of Bank On Silver. Two Horse Of the Years, two Hall of Famers with possibly a third on the way, and all of her offspring but one who hadn't finished his career yet grade one winners, later and El Sol Del Mar was onto her next career as a riding horse for Ripley.
Sunny stood with her tail to the spring wind watching the duo of gray colts as they marched down the dirt track to the flat before her. Ripley twined her hands in the long red mane and grinned when Sunny's ears flattened in protest. Retired she may be, but El Sol Del Mar was not a soft mare. She was a champion and champions had attitude no matter how long it's been since they run. Ripley patted the gorgeous mare's neck and smile when the other two horses finally joined them. "Take it easy on them, Sunny. They haven't met you quite yet and don't know how fiery you can be."
"Intrepid sure makes their horses supersized," Justin commented as he pulled Proteus Prince to a stop on the dirt track. The stallion was quite monstrous in size at 17.1 hands. At the moment, he was the largest horse on the roster and the most imposing. The nearly steel gray horse hadn't lightened up much from three to four, but his confidence had grown immensely. His dainty head scanned the track, eyes bright and eager. He mouthed the bit and pawed the ground, looking every inch a focused runner. Since Prince's arrival late in Year Fifteen, the horse had underdone several training episodes. The high energy of his had to be contained and focused. He learned to think with his brain instead of his boy parts. Witch Creek's daily turnout had been new to him, but Prince had settled down and his hot temper had faded.
"Unlike Captain, we had to take him down several notches," Ripley remarked to Connor, Justin's brother, who was leaning against the rail and had been very quiet up to this point. "He was so amped up after a frustrating season. We threw Captain in our silks the next week and tossed him on the track for a win. Not Prince... Prince was a Malcolm project, but boy doesn't he look special now."
Connor grinned. "Totally special. He definitely looks much more relaxed than he did in November."
Ripley smiled and watched as her riders warmed up Prince and Captain. Flying Fashion was a ball of energy beneath Maggie Reynolds, but if anyone could handle the sprinting speedball, it was Maggie. Captain was cake compared to the ever moody Paranormal Hunter and the utlra-flamboyant Artemis' Glory. Captain truly looked ready to take on the world and already Ripley figured she could turn this one's career right into that of a top sprinter. The talent was there. The brains were there. The speed was insanely there. Other than Optical Illusion, there was nothing that really scared Ripley. Captain would be ready after some seasoning and some more confidence building wins. Already, Ripley was pondering a schedule to get him ready for a return to Intrepid Racing Stable. She would give him the boost and get IRS that sprinting star they needed for their ranks.
Proteus Prince shifted under Justin, pulling on the bridle and gesturing toward the track impatiently. Justin grinned and gave the colt's thick crest a pat. "You sure Intrepid wants him back?"
Ripley rolled her eyes and started walking El Sol Del Mar down the track. The chestnut mare pinned her ears when Flying Fashion bounced enthusiastically at her size. The dappled gray three year old was super hyper, rolling his eyes until they showed white and prancing every stride. His tongue, tied because he would bite it, flopped outside of his mouth in time to his movements. "Just trot him along with us Maggie and then break off on the return lap. Prince can follow along."
Proteus Prince followed along, a gigantic shadow with quiet steps. Justin was impressed with what he felt beneath him: loads of power, an overwhelming sense of pride. His pricked ears stayed locked on El Sol del Mar and Flying Fashion as if he were already planning his attack. The Royal Red Richard son thrashed his head, mouthing the bit as the duo in front of him picked up the pace until they were gliding over the ground. Prince lengthened his stride until he was floating, dramatic even on the practice track.
The one lap went without a hitch. Flying Fashion kept tipping his head toward El Sol del Mar, opening and closing his mouth enthusiastically. The Hall of Fame mare was unimpressed with him. She snaked her head out at him and lifted off the ground a couple times to drive her point home. Ripley shook her head and leaned forward, keeping the legend on the ground. "Just go on without us Maggie. Sunny isn't having any part of him today. I really don't know what's crawled up her butt."
"Maybe it's her half-sister. You just had to bring that other filly in here," Maggie teased, giving Captain a pat on the neck.
"Wouldn't you? You saw her workout video from California," Ripley replied. "I'll take any chance of lightning striking twice."
Justin ranged up on El Sol del Mar's other side. The chestnut pinned her ears again, but she relented to the idea that she would never be rid of these two overly spastic cretins. "What's the workout plan, boss?" Justin asked.
"Three furlongs in :36 flat. Gallop out in :48. I want strong and solid. These two will highly benefit from a fast workout to sharpen them up for their first races back." Ripley halted Sunny, pulling her off to the side of the track. She moved off in the opposite direction while Ripley kept glancing backward at her runners.
Flying Fashion immediately took the lead over Prince. Maggie couldn't believe how buoyant he was in his movement. Everything about him was flashy and excited. Maggie to stood in the stirrups and let the Flying Colours colt move into his free-spirited gallop. He snatched at the bit and tossed his head, but soon settled into a ground swallowing gallop. Maggie glanced under her arm and guided Captain to the railing. Prince was lingering three lengths back, head level with his shoulders and every stride larger than the next. Maggie knew from galloping with the dark horse that he would be gunning for them down the homestretch.
Proteus Prince snorted when a clump of dirt hit him in the chest. Justin guided him to the two path and let the reins fly through his hands. Prince ate up the new freedom, bounding along like a big happy dog. His ears flopped over his head as he charged over the dirt surface, kicking it up in his wake like a child on the beach. "Settle, Prince," Justin crooned. He could feel the big horse chomping at the bit, wishing to swallow Captain alive.
The first furlong whipped by impressively as Captain surged through an opening furlong in :12. Maggie paced her breathing, rationing each moment with perfect control. She refused to mess Captain up for his first start. There was something magical about Flying Fashion. He just did everything so perfectly. He skipped over the ground, head high, nostrils flaring wide as he poured on more speed. "Good boy, Captain."
Justin tossed the reins at Prince the moment the duo swept into the stretch. Prince blinked once, twice before realizing that he was free to run. The horse leveled out, pushing mightily off his hind end and roared forward. His ears slammed down into his black mane, his eyes blazed from the rush of adrenaline. Justin melted down into the colt's neck, peering through his mane to keep an eye on Flying Fashion. Five massive strides later, Prince was on even ground with Captain.
Maggie let her boy loose, grinning like a fool when he responded with a dazzling display of speed. Prince took on the challenge like the pro he was, barreling along until he was back neck and neck with Captain.
The two grays surged through the wire, full of fire and excitement. They powered through the final furlong in 11 seconds and change, marking their re-entry into top fitness. Ripley cheered when the pair swept by her for the first turn. "Now that's what I'm talking about," Ripley laughed. "See that, Sunny. Aren't they incredible?" Sunny merely spun on her heels and jogged back to collect the wayward colts.
out of orbit
Five Furlong Workout
Luna de Soltera with Maggiletti Reynolds aboard
"Is there such a thing as too much speed?" Malcolm asked Ripley from his seat in the viewing box. The auburn haired woman stood at the window, her cat green eyes flicking over the track, tracing Coveted Faith and Enrapture as they marched around the course. She shrugged her shoulders and smiled at him once the move was through. "Nah. There's no such thing as too much speed. You just need control over that speed."
"You think you've got control over Luna?" Mal asks, lifting an eyebrow. Ripley smoothed her ruffled feathers, doing her best to stifle the irritability. She hated when Mal questioned her judgement, which usually happened whenever she brought another horse into their already overloaded ranks. Everyone questioned her for bringing this filly in and it thoroughly shocked her. Did they want someone else to get their hands on this filly? No, Ripley scoffed inwardly. No one else was going to get their hands on Luna de Soltera as long as she was alive. It'd taken her a long time to locate the dark gray filly through her dam and she sure wasn't going to let go now that she'd caught just a glimpse of her talent.
"I'm not riding her," Ripley said finally. "Maggie is and once Maggie does get control over her, Luna is going to be off the charts good. It may take a few starts, but nothing's going to hold a candle to her."
"Bold words. You say that about Pele's Wrath and now Luna? Those are two very unpredictable runners you have on your juvenile string."
Ripley rolled her eyes and walked to the other window of the viewing box. Luna would be coming down any second for her morning workout, the last of five since her arrival in December. Luna was the best kept secret at Witch Creek Stable, but she wouldn't be for long. "Let's have unpredictable runners because then there's always a chance they get better and better. I would like to never reach the deepest part of my horses' talents. It keeps the competition guessing."
Mal had no response for that so he simply shut his yap and listened for the expected commotion. One thing that Luna did that El Sol Del Mar did not was act out like a spoiled child. His highly trained ears heard the skitter of hooves down the dirt path and his eyes recognized when Ripley stiffened. He climbed to his feet and joined her at the window just as Luna de Soltera high stepped into view.
Maggie couldn't believe her luck in landing the jockey position on Luna. Ripley wanted to keep the juvenile responsibility spread evenly among her riders and only Maggie and Reese had been free to take on another. Fortunately, Luna wasn't quite insane enough to take Reese's final spot. No...Luna fell into Maggie's line up quite perfectly like the missing puzzle piece. Luna wasn't insane, but she sure was a brat.
The dark gray filly played with the bit like a baby with a rattle. Every few strides she tossed her head, crossed her legs and jigged another step. Her tail whipped about behind them like a rattle snake's threatening tail. She wasn't innocent this one. She could be nasty if she wanted to be. Unlike Sunny, Luna wasn't above hurting people if they questioned her judgement.
Maggie sat silently in the saddle as Luna migrated from the dirt path to the track. The filly's ears flicked over her head as she scuffed her feet through the deep dirt. She wasn't as big a fan of the dirt as she was the turf, but she was light enough to skip over the Witch Creek surface if necessary. Maggie let Luna step into a jog, always keeping her eyes focused on what was ahead. The 15.2 hand filly was tiny compared to the other horses here, but she was one heck of a firecracker.
"Keep her quiet," Ripley's voice crackled over the microphone in Maggie's helmet. "She's like her mama so stay focused and don't let your attention wander. Just canter her around once and then let her go on the backside your second time around. Five furlongs in :59. She's faster than the others so I don't expect a slower time."
Maggie flashed a thumbs up in the air and chirped to Luna. The Solitary Voyage daughter pinned her ears, but moved off into a quick footed canter. Maggie took a deep breath as the filly swapped leads and quickened until she was just below her gallop. Oh so carefully, Maggie took up on the reins and crooned to Luna. The filly snorted in disapproval, but she didn't completely object to the control. Maggie let out a sigh and smiled. From here out, things were going to be a piece of cake.
Luna clocked an easy canter around the track, really getting into the exercise during the latter half. Her nostrils flared in and out quietly, as if she wasn't putting in any sort of effort. She was a little machine this filly. Maggie tucked her hands at the prideful horse's withers and counted off the seconds. Just a few more and she would get to ignite the powder keg.
Five quick strides later and Maggie released Luna. If not for her hands in the filly's mane, Maggie might have soared backwards over her hind end. The filly's take off speed was beyond reproach and she zipped from a polite canter to a barn burning run in a matter of moments. The new wind whipped Maggie's hair back from under her helmet as she recentered herself over the filly. Luna was scintillating in full flight and it nearly took Maggie's breath away.
"Holy shit," Mal swore as the little filly that could ripped off a furlong in :10 1/5. Maggie was still as a stone when the filly pounded out the second furlong in nearly identical time. She was a tornado on a child's playground this gray thing. He could see Maggie counting off the time and wondered how she was being so fooled, how his watch was showing that Luna was running every furlong a tick faster than the last and still looked like she was on cruise control.
Maggie was astonished as Luna swapped leads on the turn as if she'd been doing it her whole life. The gray filly hugged the rail so closely that Maggie's leg could have bashed the metallic line. Maggie breathed in and out as Luna coasted into the stretch, tail streaming out behind her. "Easy, Luna," Maggie crooned softly. The filly never relented in her pace, finishing as fast as she started and keeping her ears pinned all the way down the lane.
Her steps were soft and agile, like a cheetah chasing down its prey. She poured it on under zero encouragement with Maggie sitting quietly as she did everything all on her own. She ran a little mean with her head sneaking out and her eyes flashing with fury even in her own company. Maggie wished she would have a little fun for just one workout.
The filly scorched through the wire, ears pricking on the gallop out as if she knew what she'd just done. Ripley was speechless as the gray roan smashed through another gallop out furlong with impressive ease. "Wow."
"Wow," Mal mimicked when he glanced down at his watch. "Do you know what she just ran?"
"I thought I did, but now I think I'm wrong."
Mal let out a breathless laugh. "You're way off. That filly just sizzled five furlongs in :58 flat on a very deep track."
Ripley shook her head and started for the stairs. "Unbelievable."
Mal snorted. "You sure she's going to go a distance?"
Ripley paused midway down the stairs and glanced up at Malcolm, eyebrows raised. "I know of only one horse with that kind of speed and that kind of lung capacity. I won the Girl's Festival, Preakness, Belmont and Breeders' Cup Classic on her. Trust me... she'll go anywhere and on anything we point her toward."
"If you say so," Malcolm murmured and returned to his viewpoint in the box. Luna was jogging off the track, neck bowed and mane billowing out behind her, looking every inch a potential star. Ripley jogged up to the filly, avoided her pinned ears and clasped hands with Maggie. He couldn't hear what they said, but he also couldn't miss the looks of wonderment on each woman's face.
Luna de Soltera with Maggiletti Reynolds aboard
"Is there such a thing as too much speed?" Malcolm asked Ripley from his seat in the viewing box. The auburn haired woman stood at the window, her cat green eyes flicking over the track, tracing Coveted Faith and Enrapture as they marched around the course. She shrugged her shoulders and smiled at him once the move was through. "Nah. There's no such thing as too much speed. You just need control over that speed."
"You think you've got control over Luna?" Mal asks, lifting an eyebrow. Ripley smoothed her ruffled feathers, doing her best to stifle the irritability. She hated when Mal questioned her judgement, which usually happened whenever she brought another horse into their already overloaded ranks. Everyone questioned her for bringing this filly in and it thoroughly shocked her. Did they want someone else to get their hands on this filly? No, Ripley scoffed inwardly. No one else was going to get their hands on Luna de Soltera as long as she was alive. It'd taken her a long time to locate the dark gray filly through her dam and she sure wasn't going to let go now that she'd caught just a glimpse of her talent.
"I'm not riding her," Ripley said finally. "Maggie is and once Maggie does get control over her, Luna is going to be off the charts good. It may take a few starts, but nothing's going to hold a candle to her."
"Bold words. You say that about Pele's Wrath and now Luna? Those are two very unpredictable runners you have on your juvenile string."
Ripley rolled her eyes and walked to the other window of the viewing box. Luna would be coming down any second for her morning workout, the last of five since her arrival in December. Luna was the best kept secret at Witch Creek Stable, but she wouldn't be for long. "Let's have unpredictable runners because then there's always a chance they get better and better. I would like to never reach the deepest part of my horses' talents. It keeps the competition guessing."
Mal had no response for that so he simply shut his yap and listened for the expected commotion. One thing that Luna did that El Sol Del Mar did not was act out like a spoiled child. His highly trained ears heard the skitter of hooves down the dirt path and his eyes recognized when Ripley stiffened. He climbed to his feet and joined her at the window just as Luna de Soltera high stepped into view.
Maggie couldn't believe her luck in landing the jockey position on Luna. Ripley wanted to keep the juvenile responsibility spread evenly among her riders and only Maggie and Reese had been free to take on another. Fortunately, Luna wasn't quite insane enough to take Reese's final spot. No...Luna fell into Maggie's line up quite perfectly like the missing puzzle piece. Luna wasn't insane, but she sure was a brat.
The dark gray filly played with the bit like a baby with a rattle. Every few strides she tossed her head, crossed her legs and jigged another step. Her tail whipped about behind them like a rattle snake's threatening tail. She wasn't innocent this one. She could be nasty if she wanted to be. Unlike Sunny, Luna wasn't above hurting people if they questioned her judgement.
Maggie sat silently in the saddle as Luna migrated from the dirt path to the track. The filly's ears flicked over her head as she scuffed her feet through the deep dirt. She wasn't as big a fan of the dirt as she was the turf, but she was light enough to skip over the Witch Creek surface if necessary. Maggie let Luna step into a jog, always keeping her eyes focused on what was ahead. The 15.2 hand filly was tiny compared to the other horses here, but she was one heck of a firecracker.
"Keep her quiet," Ripley's voice crackled over the microphone in Maggie's helmet. "She's like her mama so stay focused and don't let your attention wander. Just canter her around once and then let her go on the backside your second time around. Five furlongs in :59. She's faster than the others so I don't expect a slower time."
Maggie flashed a thumbs up in the air and chirped to Luna. The Solitary Voyage daughter pinned her ears, but moved off into a quick footed canter. Maggie took a deep breath as the filly swapped leads and quickened until she was just below her gallop. Oh so carefully, Maggie took up on the reins and crooned to Luna. The filly snorted in disapproval, but she didn't completely object to the control. Maggie let out a sigh and smiled. From here out, things were going to be a piece of cake.
Luna clocked an easy canter around the track, really getting into the exercise during the latter half. Her nostrils flared in and out quietly, as if she wasn't putting in any sort of effort. She was a little machine this filly. Maggie tucked her hands at the prideful horse's withers and counted off the seconds. Just a few more and she would get to ignite the powder keg.
Five quick strides later and Maggie released Luna. If not for her hands in the filly's mane, Maggie might have soared backwards over her hind end. The filly's take off speed was beyond reproach and she zipped from a polite canter to a barn burning run in a matter of moments. The new wind whipped Maggie's hair back from under her helmet as she recentered herself over the filly. Luna was scintillating in full flight and it nearly took Maggie's breath away.
"Holy shit," Mal swore as the little filly that could ripped off a furlong in :10 1/5. Maggie was still as a stone when the filly pounded out the second furlong in nearly identical time. She was a tornado on a child's playground this gray thing. He could see Maggie counting off the time and wondered how she was being so fooled, how his watch was showing that Luna was running every furlong a tick faster than the last and still looked like she was on cruise control.
Maggie was astonished as Luna swapped leads on the turn as if she'd been doing it her whole life. The gray filly hugged the rail so closely that Maggie's leg could have bashed the metallic line. Maggie breathed in and out as Luna coasted into the stretch, tail streaming out behind her. "Easy, Luna," Maggie crooned softly. The filly never relented in her pace, finishing as fast as she started and keeping her ears pinned all the way down the lane.
Her steps were soft and agile, like a cheetah chasing down its prey. She poured it on under zero encouragement with Maggie sitting quietly as she did everything all on her own. She ran a little mean with her head sneaking out and her eyes flashing with fury even in her own company. Maggie wished she would have a little fun for just one workout.
The filly scorched through the wire, ears pricking on the gallop out as if she knew what she'd just done. Ripley was speechless as the gray roan smashed through another gallop out furlong with impressive ease. "Wow."
"Wow," Mal mimicked when he glanced down at his watch. "Do you know what she just ran?"
"I thought I did, but now I think I'm wrong."
Mal let out a breathless laugh. "You're way off. That filly just sizzled five furlongs in :58 flat on a very deep track."
Ripley shook her head and started for the stairs. "Unbelievable."
Mal snorted. "You sure she's going to go a distance?"
Ripley paused midway down the stairs and glanced up at Malcolm, eyebrows raised. "I know of only one horse with that kind of speed and that kind of lung capacity. I won the Girl's Festival, Preakness, Belmont and Breeders' Cup Classic on her. Trust me... she'll go anywhere and on anything we point her toward."
"If you say so," Malcolm murmured and returned to his viewpoint in the box. Luna was jogging off the track, neck bowed and mane billowing out behind her, looking every inch a potential star. Ripley jogged up to the filly, avoided her pinned ears and clasped hands with Maggie. He couldn't hear what they said, but he also couldn't miss the looks of wonderment on each woman's face.