April Week Two Workouts: Scroll for Individuals.
Popcorn Blitz& Cold Mountain. Red Herring& Mastermind. Fiery Touch& Van Guard. Ashes to Ashes& Midnight Thriller. Cross My Heart& Bella Luna
blitzkrieg
Photo courtesy of Allison L. Janezic
The first workout of the day was set to begin at six in the morning. Ripley was already up and at 'em with a cup of steamy hot cocoa, staring out the window at the racing barn. It was already 60 something degrees outside and promised to be an extremely hot day. Ripley usually couldn't stand working on said hot days, but she had a feeling today would be a good one. Workout days in which most of the Witch Creek stock got their works in were always great days. The workouts reaffirmed Ripley's belief that her stable was doing well and would continue to do well. She needed that reassurance. She turned around when Brooks stumbled in half dressed from the bedroom. She raised an eyebrow and he mumbled under his breath about coffee. Ripley smiled, Morning sunshine. Brooks glared at her through squinty, tired eyes. No coffee made yet? Just hot chocolate? Marsh you kill me. Ripley smirked at him. You're lucky I don't have you on for the first set of workers Brookson Wells. Brooks narrowed his eyes just in case she changed her mind. She eyed him innocently before swinging out of the front door and down the path to the barn. No one was a morning person like herself. She loved being up when no one else was around and doing the hard work such as stall cleaning. Now that Justin and Connor were around though, she could roam her property and prepare the early workers herself.
Maggie was stumbling from the Broodmare barn, clothed in her traditional tied up t-shirt and worn out jeans. It was a Tuesday morning so she shouldn't have been out partying all night. The blonde nodded at Ripley as she stopped at her beatup truck and drank down some headache pills. She'd been having headaches for a couple weeks now and the doctors were telling her it was bad eyesight. Maggie snorted. She knew whether or not her eyes were bad and they weren't. She slammed the pill bottle back into her center console and marched back into the Broodmare barn when she realized she still had her slippers on. Ripley muffled a laugh. Her staff were definitely not morning people. Shaking her head, Ripley turned on the lights in the racing string barn. She got nickers and whinnies of welcome. Her horses were definitely morning people. Well except for Cheeto, who was stretched out on the bottom of his stall snoring. Ripley stroked the black's stallion's face and smiled when he opened one eye. He was definitely enjoying his deserved vacation from training and racing.
Ripley moved on checking on each horse briefly and dumping their grain into their buckets. Fie and Van were pacing holes in their stalls from boredom and Ripley made note to get them out ASAP. Her plans were to have them go out together in the third set. With Indian Darling out, Fie was going to have to get used to running early, Maggie hated the heat. Ripley stopped at Darla's stall and looked in on her wild partner. Pain coated the filly's eyes still even after all the bute and pain meds. She'd gone through surgery well though her waking up had been a bit scary according to the vets. Darla was out for the rest of the year due to her bone chip and Ripley would sure miss her. The woman let out a sigh as she moved to Cold Mountain's stall. The big black colt stared at her through his gradually warming brown and blue eyes. He loved Ripley very much, had taken good care of her in the running of the Silk Road Stakes. He hadn't particularly liked the turf, had actually slipped a couple of times on the turn, but he hadn't gone down and he'd protected Ripley. The black colt's last race was a fluke and Ripley was out to show that it had been a fluke by running him in the Jenaisaiquoi Derby at The Wire. He would face a stern test there as he was also facing grade four caliber horses, with only one win to his name. However, Captain was more than capable of making a splash with the right preparation. He would get it in his workout against Popcorn Blitz.
Ripley moved onto Blitzen at the moment. The blaze faced chestnut stallion nickered in greeting and reached for the grain bucket even as Ripley proferred it to him. He stuck his whole face in the grain and munched away, happy as a clam. He would be running in the Boys Festival in Week Three. He would face Wannabe Hero and Silver Birch. Wannabe Hero was on a powerful win streak and was already at grade three. Silver Birch was a grade four horse without a win this year as well. All three horses were on the lead horses. It would be a stern battle from the get-go but Ripley was confident they, Maggie and Blitzen, were ready to rock and roll. She liked a nice battle now and then anyway. Blitzen had a real chance if he focused. He had a win this year and had been training like a machine at home and on his brief visits to The Wire and Green Horse Fields. Today's workout would be the first between Cold Mountain and Popcorn Blitz. The need for a harder workmate for Frozen Motion would prompt another switch next time out. Popcorn Blitz would take on the bridging on grade three horse after his run in the Boys Festival. Maggie would be on the chestnut stallion for both the workout and the race.
Ripley gathered tack for both colts after dishing out the remaining feed and thought over the race coming up for Cold Mountain. It would be a tough one indeed. Cold Mountain only had one win to his name while The Goodness, a horse from Close Racing, and Native Gold, from Star Thoroughbreds, had five wins to their names. He would be facing two front runners in the form of Sophie's Voice, a two year old from Silver Stride Stables, and The Goodness. The one good thing Ripley always found in Cold Mountain was that he wasn't the need the lead type front runner. He broke on top and then usually settled into a long stride without using much effort. If Sophie's Voice and The Goodness wanted the lead, they could have it. This wasn't Cold Mountain's first rodeo and he wouldn't be keyed up exiting the gate. A tracking third could get the job done. Ripley would just have to be on the lookout for Native Gold and Sweetness Unlimited. It was a bold move even entering in this race, but Ripley knew the way Cold Mountain was training. He hadn't run enough in his last start in the Silk Road and he needed another race. The Jenesaiquoi Derby was perfect for them. Cold Mountain would track nicely and then keep going while the other two leaders faded hopefully. He would have enough punch to hold off the closers and hopefully he would manage to get his second win of his career and his first win of the season. Cold Mountain had finished second and third in five of his six starts this year. He wasn't having a bad year and he deserved a blue ribbon in the win column.
Ripley watched Maggie come into the barn, holding her head, clearly emphasizing the fact that she had a headache and did not want to be talked to. The blonde went over to Popcorn Blitz and stroked the Speed Demon colt's hide. He leaned into her hand and whuffled his lips over her hair. He wanted to win for this new jockey of his. He still felt guilty over dropping a bomb last time out in the Stable Face Off Turf Sprint. He never dropped bombs like that and he wanted to make Maggie proud of him. He licked her fingers and sighed. A smile came to Maggie's face and Ripley was happy. This was what it was about. Feeding off the horses and finding success because of it.
...
It was about forty-five minutes before Ripley and Maggie were mounted and out on the dirt track. Feeding had taken a while, Brookson had engaged them in conversation with Justin and Connor, but the horses had been angels for once during preparation. Captain was being a bit of a trouble maker at the moment, letting out the occasional buck or so, mid-jog. He loved stretching his legs in the light of dawn. He flicked his ears at Blitzen, calmly taking in his new competitor. Blitzen squealed and let out a raucous buck, jarring Maggie, wanting to go into a gallop immediately. Both colt and stallion loved the feel of being on the track. They knew challenges awaited them at this point. It would be a fast workout due to the fact that both horses were leaders and loved to move at a fast, yet relaxed run. They were a perfect match on this day and could be useful as a match later down the road. Ripley ran her hands down Captain's neck, smiling when he bowed his neck and pranced forward. He was a pleasant horse sometimes. It was just when he was bored and not doing anything that he became a terror, pacing his stall or making a mess of his paddock. He had some aggression to him, but usually he waited to let it all out on the track.
Maggie felt her headache slide to the back of her head and eased herself into the working out mind. This was Popcorn Blitz. The fun horse to work out at Witch Creek Stable. He moved like an express train even at a jog. He knew he had some races coming up and he knew how to get himself there in the best condition possible. Blitzen tossed his head and fought for control. Maggie reminded herself to lighten up her contact. Blitzen didn't need a heavy hand to get moving. She sighed and eased herself into a relaxing frame of mind. The first workout of the day would be a fun one. Maggie stroked the stallion's bright chestnut neck and let him move into a swinging canter at Ripley's cue. Blitzen cantered sideways playfully, tongue sticking out and ears flapping so that he was goofier looking of the two colts. Cold Mountain cantered about as pretty as you please, dainty on those slim legs of his. Captain wasn't a bully until he got running. Maggie admired his powerful build briefly and patted her own colt. Blitzen was nearly the same height, but he was wider, heavier through the belly and hind end. Cold Mountain had a chest made of steel and wide shoulders. The colts were both tough, but relatively easy to work with.
They made their quietly about the track. Each rider lost in her own thoughts. It was so easy to not get caught up in being competitive at times like these. So easy to pretend that they were actually on a trail ride, rather than preparing a star athlete or two. Captain and Blitzen were actually quite content to move along at this fairly even pace. They wanted to run, but like their riders they were enjoying the early morning ride. Ripley sat still atop Cold Mountain's towering black figure. He was filled with such power that it made up for the losses. He was experienced and he was ready to roll in the Jenesaiquoi Derby. It was more about Ripley pushing the right button at the right time. They were used to one another already, settled into each other's rhythms, knew what exactly made the other tick. It was a solid partnership, that with a little more work, could result in champion making results. Ripley leaned forward as they rounded into the far turn again. Maggie did this as well.
The plan Rip? Maggie called over Popcorn Blitz's obnoxious snorting. Ripley called back, Mile gallop. Three Furlong tune-up. With that, she let her mount go and Captain took off to reach for this new release. Blitzen took off more on reaction than on Maggie's actual command and stormed up the rail alongside his black stablemate. The initial rush was what made the workout a blast. Both colts had exceptional gate speed and it was all the same even without a physical gate present. The sprinters were geared for quick exits and the ability to get to the lead really fast. However, Cold Mountain settled back once Blitzen nabbed the lead. That was the best part about Cold Mountain. The big black was ferocious, but he was experienced enough to know not to gun for the lead. It was only a gallop after all and when Ripley didn't bother asking for more, Captain was more than happy to relax into her soft hands. Maggie's mount on the other hand was raw speed. She didn't move a muscle on Blitzen. The big chestnut did everything his own way. Fast and furious. He would have left Captain in a cloud of dust at this point, but Maggie had an iron lock on the bit. She wiggled it via reins in his mouth and finally the Speed Demon stallion realized that he was supposed to slow down.
It was an almost instantaneous response to the grip. Popcorn Blitz just settled into this long, thundering stride of his, maintaining his length advantage. He didn't want to give away this solid lead. Cold Mountain didn't want to give the rival too much of an advantage. They were at an impasse and a very happy medium.Sweat beaded on the riders' brows as they concentrated on their mounts and maintaining this perfectly precise pace. One nip of a finger here or there and this rolling gallop would be lost in a battle of pure speed. At the moment, Captain and Blitzen were performing spectacularly well. Their bodies glimmered in the early morning sun and both of them were focused on maintaining this rateable speed. It would help in both of their next races. Speed types were so common in sprint races. But what most people didn't realize is that there were different types of speed. There was a Cross My Heart kind of speed, barely controllable and wildly fast. A Popcorn Blitz speed, really fast, but able to control if the rider so choose. And there was a Cold Mountain kind of speed, easily controlled and harbored until the stretch. Witch Creek displayed all three types in each of those horses.
Blitzen and Captain moved into the far turn, officially completing their mile gallop. Both horses were beginning to pump themselves up with adrenaline. They understood one turn miles, understood that now is when they would be able to quicken and run away with the race. Ripley and Maggie grinned at one another briefly, wriggling their pinkies at the same times. Captain and Blitzen exploded forward suddenly, both nearly launching their well-braced riders into the back of the short racing saddle. The speed was brutal as black and chestnut legs swarmed through the turn and hooves left deep punctures in the loamy sand-dirt-stone mix. They both were carried wide, but moved as one back toward the rail, closing in on it as if they were blocking a potential challenge in a race from sneaking up on them. Blitzen and Captain moved as one, challenging each other with massive bodies, testing their comparative sprinting strengths. They had each other in a death lock as they made their way into the homestretch.
Ripley and Maggie were silent. This was a wild speed to worship over. Popcorn Blitz poked a nose in front and then Cold Mountain matched him stride for stride to make up the slim margin. Then Cold Mountain took the lead and Blitzen fought to get back to that, gathering more speed and more speed. Neither was willing to give up. Both of them were well-matched. They were the challenge for one another that would prepare them for the Boys Festival and the Jenesaiquoi Derby. The riders pulled a set of goggles down the block the whipping wind from causing tears in their eyes. Ripley and Maggie let out shrieks, egging their horses on through the final hundred yards. That shriek set both of them off. The colts pushed deep in their hind ends just before the wire. If a picture had been taken, Popcorn Blitz's white nostril would have been seen coming down ahead of Captain's black one. It didn't matter to the horses or the riders. What mattered was that the sprinters were ready to face their challenges in their respective races.
Maggie was stumbling from the Broodmare barn, clothed in her traditional tied up t-shirt and worn out jeans. It was a Tuesday morning so she shouldn't have been out partying all night. The blonde nodded at Ripley as she stopped at her beatup truck and drank down some headache pills. She'd been having headaches for a couple weeks now and the doctors were telling her it was bad eyesight. Maggie snorted. She knew whether or not her eyes were bad and they weren't. She slammed the pill bottle back into her center console and marched back into the Broodmare barn when she realized she still had her slippers on. Ripley muffled a laugh. Her staff were definitely not morning people. Shaking her head, Ripley turned on the lights in the racing string barn. She got nickers and whinnies of welcome. Her horses were definitely morning people. Well except for Cheeto, who was stretched out on the bottom of his stall snoring. Ripley stroked the black's stallion's face and smiled when he opened one eye. He was definitely enjoying his deserved vacation from training and racing.
Ripley moved on checking on each horse briefly and dumping their grain into their buckets. Fie and Van were pacing holes in their stalls from boredom and Ripley made note to get them out ASAP. Her plans were to have them go out together in the third set. With Indian Darling out, Fie was going to have to get used to running early, Maggie hated the heat. Ripley stopped at Darla's stall and looked in on her wild partner. Pain coated the filly's eyes still even after all the bute and pain meds. She'd gone through surgery well though her waking up had been a bit scary according to the vets. Darla was out for the rest of the year due to her bone chip and Ripley would sure miss her. The woman let out a sigh as she moved to Cold Mountain's stall. The big black colt stared at her through his gradually warming brown and blue eyes. He loved Ripley very much, had taken good care of her in the running of the Silk Road Stakes. He hadn't particularly liked the turf, had actually slipped a couple of times on the turn, but he hadn't gone down and he'd protected Ripley. The black colt's last race was a fluke and Ripley was out to show that it had been a fluke by running him in the Jenaisaiquoi Derby at The Wire. He would face a stern test there as he was also facing grade four caliber horses, with only one win to his name. However, Captain was more than capable of making a splash with the right preparation. He would get it in his workout against Popcorn Blitz.
Ripley moved onto Blitzen at the moment. The blaze faced chestnut stallion nickered in greeting and reached for the grain bucket even as Ripley proferred it to him. He stuck his whole face in the grain and munched away, happy as a clam. He would be running in the Boys Festival in Week Three. He would face Wannabe Hero and Silver Birch. Wannabe Hero was on a powerful win streak and was already at grade three. Silver Birch was a grade four horse without a win this year as well. All three horses were on the lead horses. It would be a stern battle from the get-go but Ripley was confident they, Maggie and Blitzen, were ready to rock and roll. She liked a nice battle now and then anyway. Blitzen had a real chance if he focused. He had a win this year and had been training like a machine at home and on his brief visits to The Wire and Green Horse Fields. Today's workout would be the first between Cold Mountain and Popcorn Blitz. The need for a harder workmate for Frozen Motion would prompt another switch next time out. Popcorn Blitz would take on the bridging on grade three horse after his run in the Boys Festival. Maggie would be on the chestnut stallion for both the workout and the race.
Ripley gathered tack for both colts after dishing out the remaining feed and thought over the race coming up for Cold Mountain. It would be a tough one indeed. Cold Mountain only had one win to his name while The Goodness, a horse from Close Racing, and Native Gold, from Star Thoroughbreds, had five wins to their names. He would be facing two front runners in the form of Sophie's Voice, a two year old from Silver Stride Stables, and The Goodness. The one good thing Ripley always found in Cold Mountain was that he wasn't the need the lead type front runner. He broke on top and then usually settled into a long stride without using much effort. If Sophie's Voice and The Goodness wanted the lead, they could have it. This wasn't Cold Mountain's first rodeo and he wouldn't be keyed up exiting the gate. A tracking third could get the job done. Ripley would just have to be on the lookout for Native Gold and Sweetness Unlimited. It was a bold move even entering in this race, but Ripley knew the way Cold Mountain was training. He hadn't run enough in his last start in the Silk Road and he needed another race. The Jenesaiquoi Derby was perfect for them. Cold Mountain would track nicely and then keep going while the other two leaders faded hopefully. He would have enough punch to hold off the closers and hopefully he would manage to get his second win of his career and his first win of the season. Cold Mountain had finished second and third in five of his six starts this year. He wasn't having a bad year and he deserved a blue ribbon in the win column.
Ripley watched Maggie come into the barn, holding her head, clearly emphasizing the fact that she had a headache and did not want to be talked to. The blonde went over to Popcorn Blitz and stroked the Speed Demon colt's hide. He leaned into her hand and whuffled his lips over her hair. He wanted to win for this new jockey of his. He still felt guilty over dropping a bomb last time out in the Stable Face Off Turf Sprint. He never dropped bombs like that and he wanted to make Maggie proud of him. He licked her fingers and sighed. A smile came to Maggie's face and Ripley was happy. This was what it was about. Feeding off the horses and finding success because of it.
...
It was about forty-five minutes before Ripley and Maggie were mounted and out on the dirt track. Feeding had taken a while, Brookson had engaged them in conversation with Justin and Connor, but the horses had been angels for once during preparation. Captain was being a bit of a trouble maker at the moment, letting out the occasional buck or so, mid-jog. He loved stretching his legs in the light of dawn. He flicked his ears at Blitzen, calmly taking in his new competitor. Blitzen squealed and let out a raucous buck, jarring Maggie, wanting to go into a gallop immediately. Both colt and stallion loved the feel of being on the track. They knew challenges awaited them at this point. It would be a fast workout due to the fact that both horses were leaders and loved to move at a fast, yet relaxed run. They were a perfect match on this day and could be useful as a match later down the road. Ripley ran her hands down Captain's neck, smiling when he bowed his neck and pranced forward. He was a pleasant horse sometimes. It was just when he was bored and not doing anything that he became a terror, pacing his stall or making a mess of his paddock. He had some aggression to him, but usually he waited to let it all out on the track.
Maggie felt her headache slide to the back of her head and eased herself into the working out mind. This was Popcorn Blitz. The fun horse to work out at Witch Creek Stable. He moved like an express train even at a jog. He knew he had some races coming up and he knew how to get himself there in the best condition possible. Blitzen tossed his head and fought for control. Maggie reminded herself to lighten up her contact. Blitzen didn't need a heavy hand to get moving. She sighed and eased herself into a relaxing frame of mind. The first workout of the day would be a fun one. Maggie stroked the stallion's bright chestnut neck and let him move into a swinging canter at Ripley's cue. Blitzen cantered sideways playfully, tongue sticking out and ears flapping so that he was goofier looking of the two colts. Cold Mountain cantered about as pretty as you please, dainty on those slim legs of his. Captain wasn't a bully until he got running. Maggie admired his powerful build briefly and patted her own colt. Blitzen was nearly the same height, but he was wider, heavier through the belly and hind end. Cold Mountain had a chest made of steel and wide shoulders. The colts were both tough, but relatively easy to work with.
They made their quietly about the track. Each rider lost in her own thoughts. It was so easy to not get caught up in being competitive at times like these. So easy to pretend that they were actually on a trail ride, rather than preparing a star athlete or two. Captain and Blitzen were actually quite content to move along at this fairly even pace. They wanted to run, but like their riders they were enjoying the early morning ride. Ripley sat still atop Cold Mountain's towering black figure. He was filled with such power that it made up for the losses. He was experienced and he was ready to roll in the Jenesaiquoi Derby. It was more about Ripley pushing the right button at the right time. They were used to one another already, settled into each other's rhythms, knew what exactly made the other tick. It was a solid partnership, that with a little more work, could result in champion making results. Ripley leaned forward as they rounded into the far turn again. Maggie did this as well.
The plan Rip? Maggie called over Popcorn Blitz's obnoxious snorting. Ripley called back, Mile gallop. Three Furlong tune-up. With that, she let her mount go and Captain took off to reach for this new release. Blitzen took off more on reaction than on Maggie's actual command and stormed up the rail alongside his black stablemate. The initial rush was what made the workout a blast. Both colts had exceptional gate speed and it was all the same even without a physical gate present. The sprinters were geared for quick exits and the ability to get to the lead really fast. However, Cold Mountain settled back once Blitzen nabbed the lead. That was the best part about Cold Mountain. The big black was ferocious, but he was experienced enough to know not to gun for the lead. It was only a gallop after all and when Ripley didn't bother asking for more, Captain was more than happy to relax into her soft hands. Maggie's mount on the other hand was raw speed. She didn't move a muscle on Blitzen. The big chestnut did everything his own way. Fast and furious. He would have left Captain in a cloud of dust at this point, but Maggie had an iron lock on the bit. She wiggled it via reins in his mouth and finally the Speed Demon stallion realized that he was supposed to slow down.
It was an almost instantaneous response to the grip. Popcorn Blitz just settled into this long, thundering stride of his, maintaining his length advantage. He didn't want to give away this solid lead. Cold Mountain didn't want to give the rival too much of an advantage. They were at an impasse and a very happy medium.Sweat beaded on the riders' brows as they concentrated on their mounts and maintaining this perfectly precise pace. One nip of a finger here or there and this rolling gallop would be lost in a battle of pure speed. At the moment, Captain and Blitzen were performing spectacularly well. Their bodies glimmered in the early morning sun and both of them were focused on maintaining this rateable speed. It would help in both of their next races. Speed types were so common in sprint races. But what most people didn't realize is that there were different types of speed. There was a Cross My Heart kind of speed, barely controllable and wildly fast. A Popcorn Blitz speed, really fast, but able to control if the rider so choose. And there was a Cold Mountain kind of speed, easily controlled and harbored until the stretch. Witch Creek displayed all three types in each of those horses.
Blitzen and Captain moved into the far turn, officially completing their mile gallop. Both horses were beginning to pump themselves up with adrenaline. They understood one turn miles, understood that now is when they would be able to quicken and run away with the race. Ripley and Maggie grinned at one another briefly, wriggling their pinkies at the same times. Captain and Blitzen exploded forward suddenly, both nearly launching their well-braced riders into the back of the short racing saddle. The speed was brutal as black and chestnut legs swarmed through the turn and hooves left deep punctures in the loamy sand-dirt-stone mix. They both were carried wide, but moved as one back toward the rail, closing in on it as if they were blocking a potential challenge in a race from sneaking up on them. Blitzen and Captain moved as one, challenging each other with massive bodies, testing their comparative sprinting strengths. They had each other in a death lock as they made their way into the homestretch.
Ripley and Maggie were silent. This was a wild speed to worship over. Popcorn Blitz poked a nose in front and then Cold Mountain matched him stride for stride to make up the slim margin. Then Cold Mountain took the lead and Blitzen fought to get back to that, gathering more speed and more speed. Neither was willing to give up. Both of them were well-matched. They were the challenge for one another that would prepare them for the Boys Festival and the Jenesaiquoi Derby. The riders pulled a set of goggles down the block the whipping wind from causing tears in their eyes. Ripley and Maggie let out shrieks, egging their horses on through the final hundred yards. That shriek set both of them off. The colts pushed deep in their hind ends just before the wire. If a picture had been taken, Popcorn Blitz's white nostril would have been seen coming down ahead of Captain's black one. It didn't matter to the horses or the riders. What mattered was that the sprinters were ready to face their challenges in their respective races.
red flag
Photo courtesy of Allison L. Janezic
Ripley, Brooks and Maggie stood at the entrance to the barn. They'd just released Popcorn Blitz and Cold Mountain. The workout had been beyond satisfying for Ripley and Maggie. Pure speed in massive bodies always had a delightful effect on the two women. They grinned at each other as if sharing the same naughty thoughts while Brooks pretended to ignore the interaction. The 21 year old had just realized the downside of being with two women who also happened to be best friends: you were never in on the secrets. For being so talkative, most of the communication between Ripley Marsh and Maggiletti Reynolds was on the down low. Brooks shrugged off his pet peeve and looked into the barn. Red Herring looked out at him. The chestnut's bold white face betrayed his interest in the humans. Any other day and the colt featured a cold attitude the size of Texas. Brooks grinned. His mount had been absolutely spectacular in the last race.
Maggie followed Brooks' attention and nudged Ripley. Uh-oh. Brooks is plotting evily inside the beautiful head of his. Ripley grinned at her far younger boyfriend. Brooks shook his head. Pondering not plotting. Brooks reached for Ripley's hand and she smiled even in her eyes. If there was any doubt about Witch Creek returning to the major races, I'm positive that doubt has been erased. After the Magic Millions and Ashes victory in the Alphan Derby at The Wire, I am stunned to say that you're training has completely changed my opinion of how races should prepare. Ripley blushed, but Maggie nodded in complete agreement. Ripley was too modest for her own good. She deserved all the credit in the world. Agreed. The crowd was roaring when Mastermind and Red demolished their juvi. fields. Myself included. Mastermind was just waving the red flag of his saying "Here I am. Catch me if you can." Ripley grinned. She'd especially reveled in Mastermind's win. The elegant Speed Demon colt had been an absolute power house in the Dirt Sprint. He hadn't been stopping in any sense of the word. It'd taken the length of the track to even manage to shut his lean grey-hound body down.
The trio of humans went inside to where Justin and Connor had pulled the two year olds out of the stalls. Mastermind and Red Herring had basically taken control of the two year old dirt division. Red had more than done enough to wrap up the win in the Magic Millions Colt Dirt. What had been even more shocking was that had only been Red Herring's second start of his career. Ripley still felt shivers from the excitement of that race. But the Magic Millions was over and it was time to move on after a week of celebrating the victories of the two colts. Especially because the races that were coming up were supposed to be tougher than either colt had faced yet. The Silver Stride Stakes and Serendipity Handicap were both run at nine furlongs. The Serendipity Handicap had come up a lot stronger with the likes of Innocent Passion, Ventura, Blue Me Away and Mastermind entered. Three of them were grade four racers, with the fourth, Innocent Passion, verging on grade four as well. Red Herring's biggest challenger in the Silver Stride Stakes was Sizzling Dawn, a filly that had been giving Indian Darling trouble the entire year so far. Red Herring looked more than capable of beating her off his two emphatic wins. Today's workout would be the key for both stunningly talented colts.
Justin and Connor groomed them while Maggie and Brooks talked shop. Justin was more than excited to be handling Mastermind. He'd taken such an interest already, attending the races with Ripley and Brooks whenever possible. He'd stalked all of the old magazines in the office and had determined that Impressario had been the greatest horse to set hoof on the track so far. Not that he would tell Ripley that. She was so clearly biased when it came to El Sol del Mar. His dark brown eyes glimmered when Mastermind reached around to nibble on his blue jacketed sleeve. The logo of Witch Creek stable proudly stood out on his chest. He wore it everyday to work. He stroked Mastermind's face and grinned a huge smile when the colt snorted. Ripley had been letting Justin ride The Devil's Touch around the farm in order to keep her in shape. Justin thought it was the coolest thing in the world. Connor wasn't as interested in the horse deal as Justin was. He was just in it to turn his life around. What Justin saw was an opportunity to get his dream job. Jockey for Witch Creek. He glanced at Ripley who was watching him with her soft cat-green eyes.
Ripley saw herself in the skinny boy grooming the champion colt. An eagerness to learn, to ride, to get better and avoid the hardships of a past life. She would give Justin the opportunity to build up his confidence on horse back. He'd been doing incredible with The Devil. If he continued to be this wonderful with the horses, Justin may just have a spot on her jockey roster by the end of Year Thirteen. She turned to Maggie and Brooks. A mile and a half gallop with a five furlong workout. That should bottom 'em right up. Maggie nodded and walked over to Justin. She put a light hand on his shoulder and guided him to the tack room along with Connor. She chatted the boys up, discovered Connor had met a girl groom he was quite taken with. She smiled. Brooks and Ripley exchanged a kiss and went to pull on their gear.
...
Twenty minutes later, Ripley and Brooks rode out atop their chestnuts onto the dirt track. Red Herring was practicing his leaps for the moon beneath Brooks, challenging as always until he decided that his defiance wasn't going to win Brooks over easily. The colt snorted, bowed his thick neck and bolted. Brooks and the fiery chestnut careened away, barreling along the rail. Ripley just shook her head and guided Mastermind down to the inner rail. She loved Red Herring, but goodness he could be a total tool of a horse. She stroked Mastermind's neck as he got a little snorty over watching Red's show. He felt incredible beneath Ripley. His trot was long and fluid, an extended ride. He was a rocking horse. He'd filled out very nicely so far and still had plenty of growing to do. The colt tossed his head emphatically when they reached the first turn. He wanted to run and catch up with his work mate. Ripley leaned forward in response and gave him his head.
He was incredible, monstrous in stride. A story book character. Brooks could barely hang on to Red as he marched around the turn. The powerfully built horse heard Mastermind gunning for him. Mastermind hadn't raced against him in the Magic Millions, but Red had wished he'd been in the race. Brooks had felt the horse searching for his work-mate, wanting to prove himself that he could dominate just about anyone. A rivalry was building between the Witch Creek two year olds. What's more there was still another dirt two year old yet to be unveiled in Witch Creek's colors, that of Van Guard. Red had to be on the lookout for his own stablemates. Brooks glanced under his armpit to see Mastermind streaming up quietly along the inside. The lean horse loved the turns, where as Red wasn't particularly fond of them. The big chestnut's blocky form carried him farther out into the center of the track, but he picked up the lost speed straightening into the backstretch.
The pair galloped enthusiastically, challenging one another in this controlled speed duel. If Mastermind drew back, Red Herring drew back. If Mastermind sped up purposefully, Red ran faster to meet him eye for eye. The competition was brutal. Wind flapped through Ripley's helmet as she leaned closer to her mount. Mastermind took this as a cue to pick up speed, his tail fanned behind him as he lurched forward. Red pushed off his hind end with so grand an effort that Brooks nearly ended up in the back of the saddle. Red caught up to him and met him galloping stride for galloping stride. He'd gained new confidence from his past two efforts. He forced himself on Mastermind, but Mastermind didn't relent for he too had gathered more confidence. The red ghost and rocket spurred each other on as they passed through furlong after furlong. Laying themselves across the track, bloody warriors as they pushed beyond the mile and a half gallop. Brooks and Ripley glanced at each other, eyes lit up with adrenaline, bodies braced for the pounding they would take from these two colts.
At the same time, on cue, both riders dropped their reins. Mastermind pulled himself forward in a great burst of speed and raced into the backstretch once again. His legs swept beneath him, barely touching the loamy dirt of the track as he pummeled his workmate. Red Herring let Mastermind go for two strides on his own decision. Brooks sat on auto-pilot, shaking his head when finally, Red propelled himself forward to run beat for beat with Mastermind. Ripley's Speed Demon colt let out another notch of controlled energy. He did everything so easily. Red was a burr in his mane. But where Mastermind had controllable talent, Red was a gritty wild horse. He bolted forward, flattening his ears to his head in anger. He attempted to savage Mastermind, but Mastermind squealed and returned the hate filled look. It truly was hate filled. Brooks and Ripley moved at the same time on both their two year olds, running their hands along the necks of their striving colts.
Instantly, Red and Mastermind refocused. They each gunned around the first turn, flying uncontrollably for the finish. Pitting pedigree against unknown talent. Brooks and Ripley were seeds settled right into the blooming flowers that were the horses. Witch Creek was staking it's claim for the two year old male divisions. It'd begun with Mastermind and Red Herring in the Magic Millions and would continue in the Silver Stride Stakes and Serendipity Handicap. The riders screamed from their effort as they rocketed beneath the wire. Mastermind and Red pouring it on making the five furlong workout six instead. They were increasingly hard to pull up, but by the time that gigantic task was accomplished, both of the incredible animals were barely breathing heavy.
Maggie followed Brooks' attention and nudged Ripley. Uh-oh. Brooks is plotting evily inside the beautiful head of his. Ripley grinned at her far younger boyfriend. Brooks shook his head. Pondering not plotting. Brooks reached for Ripley's hand and she smiled even in her eyes. If there was any doubt about Witch Creek returning to the major races, I'm positive that doubt has been erased. After the Magic Millions and Ashes victory in the Alphan Derby at The Wire, I am stunned to say that you're training has completely changed my opinion of how races should prepare. Ripley blushed, but Maggie nodded in complete agreement. Ripley was too modest for her own good. She deserved all the credit in the world. Agreed. The crowd was roaring when Mastermind and Red demolished their juvi. fields. Myself included. Mastermind was just waving the red flag of his saying "Here I am. Catch me if you can." Ripley grinned. She'd especially reveled in Mastermind's win. The elegant Speed Demon colt had been an absolute power house in the Dirt Sprint. He hadn't been stopping in any sense of the word. It'd taken the length of the track to even manage to shut his lean grey-hound body down.
The trio of humans went inside to where Justin and Connor had pulled the two year olds out of the stalls. Mastermind and Red Herring had basically taken control of the two year old dirt division. Red had more than done enough to wrap up the win in the Magic Millions Colt Dirt. What had been even more shocking was that had only been Red Herring's second start of his career. Ripley still felt shivers from the excitement of that race. But the Magic Millions was over and it was time to move on after a week of celebrating the victories of the two colts. Especially because the races that were coming up were supposed to be tougher than either colt had faced yet. The Silver Stride Stakes and Serendipity Handicap were both run at nine furlongs. The Serendipity Handicap had come up a lot stronger with the likes of Innocent Passion, Ventura, Blue Me Away and Mastermind entered. Three of them were grade four racers, with the fourth, Innocent Passion, verging on grade four as well. Red Herring's biggest challenger in the Silver Stride Stakes was Sizzling Dawn, a filly that had been giving Indian Darling trouble the entire year so far. Red Herring looked more than capable of beating her off his two emphatic wins. Today's workout would be the key for both stunningly talented colts.
Justin and Connor groomed them while Maggie and Brooks talked shop. Justin was more than excited to be handling Mastermind. He'd taken such an interest already, attending the races with Ripley and Brooks whenever possible. He'd stalked all of the old magazines in the office and had determined that Impressario had been the greatest horse to set hoof on the track so far. Not that he would tell Ripley that. She was so clearly biased when it came to El Sol del Mar. His dark brown eyes glimmered when Mastermind reached around to nibble on his blue jacketed sleeve. The logo of Witch Creek stable proudly stood out on his chest. He wore it everyday to work. He stroked Mastermind's face and grinned a huge smile when the colt snorted. Ripley had been letting Justin ride The Devil's Touch around the farm in order to keep her in shape. Justin thought it was the coolest thing in the world. Connor wasn't as interested in the horse deal as Justin was. He was just in it to turn his life around. What Justin saw was an opportunity to get his dream job. Jockey for Witch Creek. He glanced at Ripley who was watching him with her soft cat-green eyes.
Ripley saw herself in the skinny boy grooming the champion colt. An eagerness to learn, to ride, to get better and avoid the hardships of a past life. She would give Justin the opportunity to build up his confidence on horse back. He'd been doing incredible with The Devil. If he continued to be this wonderful with the horses, Justin may just have a spot on her jockey roster by the end of Year Thirteen. She turned to Maggie and Brooks. A mile and a half gallop with a five furlong workout. That should bottom 'em right up. Maggie nodded and walked over to Justin. She put a light hand on his shoulder and guided him to the tack room along with Connor. She chatted the boys up, discovered Connor had met a girl groom he was quite taken with. She smiled. Brooks and Ripley exchanged a kiss and went to pull on their gear.
...
Twenty minutes later, Ripley and Brooks rode out atop their chestnuts onto the dirt track. Red Herring was practicing his leaps for the moon beneath Brooks, challenging as always until he decided that his defiance wasn't going to win Brooks over easily. The colt snorted, bowed his thick neck and bolted. Brooks and the fiery chestnut careened away, barreling along the rail. Ripley just shook her head and guided Mastermind down to the inner rail. She loved Red Herring, but goodness he could be a total tool of a horse. She stroked Mastermind's neck as he got a little snorty over watching Red's show. He felt incredible beneath Ripley. His trot was long and fluid, an extended ride. He was a rocking horse. He'd filled out very nicely so far and still had plenty of growing to do. The colt tossed his head emphatically when they reached the first turn. He wanted to run and catch up with his work mate. Ripley leaned forward in response and gave him his head.
He was incredible, monstrous in stride. A story book character. Brooks could barely hang on to Red as he marched around the turn. The powerfully built horse heard Mastermind gunning for him. Mastermind hadn't raced against him in the Magic Millions, but Red had wished he'd been in the race. Brooks had felt the horse searching for his work-mate, wanting to prove himself that he could dominate just about anyone. A rivalry was building between the Witch Creek two year olds. What's more there was still another dirt two year old yet to be unveiled in Witch Creek's colors, that of Van Guard. Red had to be on the lookout for his own stablemates. Brooks glanced under his armpit to see Mastermind streaming up quietly along the inside. The lean horse loved the turns, where as Red wasn't particularly fond of them. The big chestnut's blocky form carried him farther out into the center of the track, but he picked up the lost speed straightening into the backstretch.
The pair galloped enthusiastically, challenging one another in this controlled speed duel. If Mastermind drew back, Red Herring drew back. If Mastermind sped up purposefully, Red ran faster to meet him eye for eye. The competition was brutal. Wind flapped through Ripley's helmet as she leaned closer to her mount. Mastermind took this as a cue to pick up speed, his tail fanned behind him as he lurched forward. Red pushed off his hind end with so grand an effort that Brooks nearly ended up in the back of the saddle. Red caught up to him and met him galloping stride for galloping stride. He'd gained new confidence from his past two efforts. He forced himself on Mastermind, but Mastermind didn't relent for he too had gathered more confidence. The red ghost and rocket spurred each other on as they passed through furlong after furlong. Laying themselves across the track, bloody warriors as they pushed beyond the mile and a half gallop. Brooks and Ripley glanced at each other, eyes lit up with adrenaline, bodies braced for the pounding they would take from these two colts.
At the same time, on cue, both riders dropped their reins. Mastermind pulled himself forward in a great burst of speed and raced into the backstretch once again. His legs swept beneath him, barely touching the loamy dirt of the track as he pummeled his workmate. Red Herring let Mastermind go for two strides on his own decision. Brooks sat on auto-pilot, shaking his head when finally, Red propelled himself forward to run beat for beat with Mastermind. Ripley's Speed Demon colt let out another notch of controlled energy. He did everything so easily. Red was a burr in his mane. But where Mastermind had controllable talent, Red was a gritty wild horse. He bolted forward, flattening his ears to his head in anger. He attempted to savage Mastermind, but Mastermind squealed and returned the hate filled look. It truly was hate filled. Brooks and Ripley moved at the same time on both their two year olds, running their hands along the necks of their striving colts.
Instantly, Red and Mastermind refocused. They each gunned around the first turn, flying uncontrollably for the finish. Pitting pedigree against unknown talent. Brooks and Ripley were seeds settled right into the blooming flowers that were the horses. Witch Creek was staking it's claim for the two year old male divisions. It'd begun with Mastermind and Red Herring in the Magic Millions and would continue in the Silver Stride Stakes and Serendipity Handicap. The riders screamed from their effort as they rocketed beneath the wire. Mastermind and Red pouring it on making the five furlong workout six instead. They were increasingly hard to pull up, but by the time that gigantic task was accomplished, both of the incredible animals were barely breathing heavy.
guardian fire
Photo courtesy of Event of the Year Photos
The frustrations continued for Fiery Touch and Ripley Marsh. Like Midnight Thriller, Fie had fallen into a bit of a speed bump. The bay would be doing excellent if you turned all of her third place efforts into firsts. Unfortunately that was illegal and two horses still had finished ahead of her in every one of her races. Thirditis had Fie locked in its grips and it didn't seem as though it was going to ever let her go. They'd tried switching jockeys from Ripley to Maggie, but it just wasn't working. Fiery Touch was running her heart out in every single race with breaks in between weeks of racing. She just didn't close the deal. There were always better horses. Last week she'd run pretty darn well to finish third behind colts in the Santa Anita Derby. A third was a third, but the change of scenery had Fiery Touch fired up and livid. The filly, usually calm and collected, was tearing up her stall and her paddock, racing along the fence line and being an absolute monster to any human or horse that set foot near her. Her workmate, Indian Darling, had succumbed to a regular two year old injury, and was out of training and racing. Ripley wasn't quite as depressed about it as she should be. The filly had fallen to injury just in time. Just before her workmate had turned into a racezilla.
Fie wanted to run again. Her blood was on boil and even now the light bay was pawing at her stall matting and flinging shavings up against the wall. In her recent gallops, she'd barely been controlled and there was still two weeks until the Acorn Stakes. It was going to be a frightening race. Ripley was on edge. The way Fie was training, the bay was becoming an express train. Most of her competitors would be running in the Kentucky Oaks this weekend. Fie was staying home, one, because she wasn't allowed to compete due to her grade five status and two, because the other horses would hopefully be more tired. However, Fie was making everyone at Witch Creek tired just watching her and listening to her. The boss was having a meltdown and it was effecting the entire racing string. None of the horses wanted to be in the barn and who could blame them. At the moment only Van Guard and Fiery Touch were actually present in the racing barn. Van was staring nervously down the shed row, keyed up and ready to rumble. The horse was a stall player too so the pair of them together were quite foolish. Ripley was ecstatic to be able to ride against Maggie and Van Guard today.
Her best friend sat on a tack box in front of Van's stall repairing Indian Darling's blinker hood. Maggie didn't know that Brooks and Ripley had returned just in time to catch the last bit of Van's workout the other week. What they'd seen had blown their mind. Witch Creek in the form of Battle Brook Stables hadn't been known for it's two year old colts back in the day, more or less they'd been with the fillies on both surfaces. However, Witch Creek in the present was suddenly chock full of stunning two year old colt talent. Mastermind and Red Herring were already coming to hand on the track. Van Guard would be a challenge with Red Herring in keeping them apart once Van broke his maiden. And Van Guard would be breaking his maiden if his dominating workout the other day had anything to say about it. The colt had moved so boundingly easy over the track at Witch Creek which was deeper than most, therefore more trying and protective on the horse's legs. However, he'd been flying. Ripley and Brooks had timed the colt in their heads and each furlong he'd clicked off had been closer to 10 seconds. That was incredible. That was as fast as a vehicle covering the same ground. How did a two year old colt with so much growing up to do produce those kind of times? Neither Brooks nor Ripley could guess. But putting him in a workout with their top three year old filly would help them guess even further.
Maggie watched Ripley watch Van with curious eyes. Ripley had a glint of hunger and triumph in those cat green eyes of hers. It would worry Maggie, but she was betting it was about Van and that she was okay with. She wanted Ripley to see the galloping work that she'd put into the massive two year old. She wanted the assistant training job just like Brooks had. If Ripley thought Van Guard was doing good than clearly Maggie was doing well. Maggie was closer to her assistant training job now. The blonde smiled and reached up to pat the side of Van's red-bay face. He leaned into the pressure for a moment of affection. Within seconds the colt was backing away dramatically into his stall. Thus the pawing ensued. Maggie knew exactly where she wanted Van Guard to make the second start of his racing career. It happened to be in April Week Four at The Wire in the Philliper Maiden. Two horses were entered, Sea Siren from Bowen Acres Stables and Dirty Diana from Stride of Perfection Stables. Both of them were closers and both had experienced the same beginnings to racing as Van Guard had. Dirty Diana would be the horse to beat in this race. She had finished second last time out in the Avril Maiden behind an older horse and she'd also greatly improved over her first two races. Sea Siren had been boldly entered in the Magic Millions Colt Turf where he'd run fifth. Maggie was positive that if Van Guard settled into the big rolling stride of his and had everything his own way on the track, his first start in Witch Creek colors would go quite nicely, possibly ending in a victory. The big colt would have the lead all to himself and he would get the jump on Dirty Diana. Maggie practically purred at the victory waiting her Native Flame protege.
No wonder everyone hates coming in the barn with all this racket. Thank God my apartment's above the broodmare barn! Ripley grinned at Maggie and nodded in exasperated agreement. I need to get these two out so Mastermind, Red Herring and Blitzen can get beauty sleep for their next races. Ripley went to stand in front of Fie's stall and glanced over the filly. The stripe-marked bay instantly stopped her focused attention on digging out her stall and raced to the door, shoving her face into Ripley's. Ripley let out a slow breath and reached up to stroke the white marking. Hey there filly lady. I have some complaints about you that we need to take care of. Ripley looked to Maggie. Maggie nodded. You know I don't want to take her out from under you Maggot. I know her better at this point and I want to get her running in the Acorn. She needs to get there. I know she can. She knows she can. We're all tired of finishing third. We want first or second. Maggie raised her hands defensively at her friend's nervous battle. Oh go on and be quiet Marsh. I understand. I expected it. And quite honestly I don't want her in this state. I'd rather work with my own class clown then yours too.
Ripley laughed and patted Fie's neck. She'd filled out incredibly over the last few weeks and was going to look even better come Acorn Stakes day. Ripley intended on putting weight and muscle into this filly. She needed it. Stress had thinned her down and the big race was coming. Paradise Island was the clear cut leader of the Triple Tiara division. The rest, Winning Touch, Union Jaque, Arachne and After Dusk, were closely bunched together. Ripley was excited to see such a big field possibly being gathered for the Triple Tiara. Paradise Island was a tough nut to crack, but if she was tired from racing, a fresh Fiery Touch would be very willing to close it down. Ripley was plotting very carefully where she wanted to go and when. A break would do nice for Fie. Her late kick would be tremendous at the end. Workouts with Van Guard that simulated a race would also workout.
The pair of women led the filly and colt out of the stall, each setting to work on the nice sized animals. Silence finally settled in the barn as both horses were withdrawn from their stalls. They both stood stock still for their riders. They wanted to get out on the track as fast as possible.
...
Ripley and Maggie walked the horses over the dirt, both keeping relatively quiet. Ripley wanted something sharp and fast. Something to take the edge off of Fie and Van for his first start. Ripley rubbed her chin as the horses picked up sweeping jogs. Maggie rubbed her hands up and down Van's neck appreciating his dominating attitude. The colt was proud to be a Witch Creek race horse. He knew his job was to bring the spotlight and the victory to his barn. He wanted more of Maggie's affection and when he ran strong and fast, he always got it. Ripley nodded to herself, bringing Maggie's attentions away from her powerhouse and onto her boss. A mile gallop with a six furlong workout will do the trick. Maggie raised an eyebrow, impressed. Ripley was really gearing Fiery Touch up for her start in three weeks. Who could blame her?
Fiery Touch was an absolute pain in the rear end today. She was dancing sideways and doing fancy dressage moves every other stride. She wanted to be off. Wanted to race this big son of a gun next to her and show him who the boss was. She wanted Indian Darling running beside her. The two year old filly had been a challenge, a fighter. This big guy looked full of himself. He needed a good whooping. Fie tossed her head up and down, dancing her butt in Van's gigantic direction. Van just turned his rear end in a mimic of hers and continued on his easy going, confident way. Fie nearly lost it, gripping the bit between her teeth and pulling the reins between Ripley's gloved hands. She was the queen around her. Fie launched a solid buck and threatened to bolt. Ripley leaned back and pulled her under control again. Maggie raised an eyebrow.
Wow! Someone is quite full of themselves on this lovely morning! Maggie said. Ripley nodded. You aren't even kidding. Let's get them galloping. Maggie caught the drift here. Ripley wanted a good, solid, heart pounding run. Maggie could sense that Ripley didn't want to give Fie any time to think for herself. Fiery Touch thrashed around some more at the head of the backstretch, already worked up. Her eyes were blazing. She wanted to gun it down the track. Van Guard trotted patiently alongside her on the outside. There was no way she was going to fall for Ripley's rail tricks today, especially with a colt as big as Van. Come on now Fie! You don't want a two year old showing you up again! Do you? Fie let out a snort and Ripley dropped her hands, taking her cue. Instantly, Fie was on the bridle.
Maggie stared as Fiery Touch took off from a near stand still. She'd never seen the light bay so agitated. Maggie booted her mount forward and in moments, Van was swallowing up the speedy dust left in Fie's wake. The big bay colt didn't grab at the bit as ferociously as his new workmate did, instead, he worked off his legs rather than his mouth. Maggie found that it would be harder to control him if jammed in a crowd, but at the moment it was quite easy to deal with him. He lengthened into an easy rocking horse stride, Maggie leaned into his mane, letting it whip her pale face. God he was so wonderful. He pulled himself right on up to Fie's outside and settled in just off her hip. Fiery Touch pinned her ears back, but a remark from Ripley had the three year old refocusing back on the job. She bolted away then settled back into her fierce gallop. Tossing dirt up into Van's face. The bay charged right on through it, not a care in the world. Maggie stroked the colt's neck, confidence zooming through her.
He was such a tough animal for such a young horse. He was immature in the barn and when being handled, but any day out on the track, people would think he was an older horse based on his appearance and demeanor. Maggie stilled herself back up even as Fiery Touch pushed herself up the track. She'd steadied a little bit in her fast pace, enough that Van was able to run neck and neck with her. Fie got a load of the horse running beside her, eyes flashing. He was big, but she wasn't impressed. She put on a burst of speed and he fell back. Maggie shook her head. Fiery Touch was a competitive wrecking ball today. Ripley remained quiet, eyes forward. She was impressed with Fie's new attitude. This was the drive she'd been searching for in her mount. The Acorn Stakes couldn't come soon enough. Ripley guided her close to the rail and the filly wrapped herself up against it, gaining momentum and ground from the tighter corner.
Van Guard settled a length off her now. He wasn't going to keep up with her throughout this workout and gallop at this pace. Fie even backed herself off coming down the homestretch, gathering her breath from that first suicidal wave. She wasn't tired, just tired of gunning it without a purpose. Ripley nodded in satisfaction. Here was the real Fie. Early speed would help them get up close rather closing from far back like they had been. They would still be the last or second to last horse in the field, but an earlier move would bring quicker results. Ripley crooned to her filly as they marched back into the first. The horses slipped past the furlong markers and over the dirt at an easier pace, each stretching to their maximum limits to get all of their muscles going. The horses were limbered up and ready to roll. And so were the riders.
As they marched up the backstretch, Ripley and Maggie seemingly came alive from a sleep. Both of them straightened in the saddle, blue and green eyes narrowed. This was it. The battle to see if Van Guard was the real deal and if Fie could respond to a new challenger first time out. Both bays also sensed the rising adrenaline and tension, their strides shortened in response and their ears flicked backward as if searching for a threat. Of course there was none. The marker passed and Maggie let Van Guard go. He surged right on by Fiery Touch, catching her off guard. The bay filly and Ripley stared in shock as the ground-eating monster moved by on the outside. He'd literally taken two full strides while passing them. He pulled himself to an easy two length lead. Ripley let out a notch on Fiery Touch. She made up the ground, head lowering in order to become economical as they both picked up racing speeds.
Van Guard was going extremely nice. Maggie had yet to move on him since the initial let-go. Van boldly moved along, ears flopping back and forth as if he didn't expect for Fiery Touch to make up the lost ground. However, Fie was no slouch in speed or in size. Maggie looked back to see the bay filly lengthening her stride, moving easily and not even trying to catch Van. Her initial fury was gone. In place was the in control, ever listening Fiery Touch that Ripley knew the best. Maggie turned back and coaxed Van off the rail to give the filly some room. Her big bay needed to learn that any horse when passed could come back to challenge. Ripley nodded in silent agreement with the move. The pair streaked into the far turn, large bodies swinging out into a different path as they picked up ever increasing speed. Fiery Touch was rearing to go now. Ripley let her out notch by notch until the light bay was at Van's flanks.
It was then that the Native Flame colt truly became aware of his competitor. He braced for the onslaught of speed, almost caught in the headlights that Fiery Touch had returned to do battle. Ripley smirked at his listening ears as they drew even on the far turn. Maggie shook the reins at Van to wake him up and he attempted to slip away with those massive strides of his. Only now, Fie was ready to go with him. The second he moved, Fie moved as well. She bolted up the inside rail, black tail streaming out behind her. Fie was a pretty large filly and she just lengthened so nicely. She drew a half length in front as they raced into the homestretch. She wanted to win badly.
Van Guard wasn't even trying or that's what it felt like at least. Maggie moved her hands on him, again asking him for a burst of speed. Fie was slipping away. The big colt shook his head again as if waking up and then exploded when he realized what Maggie was asking. He stormed right on by Fiery Touch, this time not stopping and waiting for her. So much for Ladies First. Ripley finally let go of her entire grip on the reins, they hung slack against Fie's neck. She shot forward as though she'd been sling shotted from a gun and charged up the inside, once again coming to Van's throat latch. He wasn't an easy horse to run down. Every time Fie thought she had his measure, he found one more notch to his limbs and pulled away. But where he was pushed forward merely on raw talent, Fie was bolstered by fury and heart. The light bay found more of her invisible powers to draw from and fought for the lead up the rail. Ripley egged her on in this workout, pushing her hands as if simulating a race. Maggie did as well. Van and Fie swept forward two hundred yards from the wire, eyes alight with shock and fury, respectively.
Fiery Touch gathered herself and suddenly spurted away to take a length lead. She glided beneath the wire a length and a half in front of her stable mate, triumph glinting in her eyes. She strode over the dirt track, strong as can be and moved again into the first turn. Fiery Touch was ready to rumble and with three weeks to prepare her, Ripley was feeling confident that Witch Creek had a threat in the Acorn after all. Maggie watched in admiration from her position farther back on Van. Her big colt hadn't given his all. Once he found his heart and became battle tested then he would truly understand racing. He'd taken very well to having Fiery Touch run up along his inside. He was going to be ready for the Philliper Maiden off this powerful workout. Maggie knew every button to push. He wouldn't get bored during the running of a true race the way he did at home. He'd have his work cut out for him, but he did everything so easy, maybe, just maybe, he would prove Maggie wrong.
Fie wanted to run again. Her blood was on boil and even now the light bay was pawing at her stall matting and flinging shavings up against the wall. In her recent gallops, she'd barely been controlled and there was still two weeks until the Acorn Stakes. It was going to be a frightening race. Ripley was on edge. The way Fie was training, the bay was becoming an express train. Most of her competitors would be running in the Kentucky Oaks this weekend. Fie was staying home, one, because she wasn't allowed to compete due to her grade five status and two, because the other horses would hopefully be more tired. However, Fie was making everyone at Witch Creek tired just watching her and listening to her. The boss was having a meltdown and it was effecting the entire racing string. None of the horses wanted to be in the barn and who could blame them. At the moment only Van Guard and Fiery Touch were actually present in the racing barn. Van was staring nervously down the shed row, keyed up and ready to rumble. The horse was a stall player too so the pair of them together were quite foolish. Ripley was ecstatic to be able to ride against Maggie and Van Guard today.
Her best friend sat on a tack box in front of Van's stall repairing Indian Darling's blinker hood. Maggie didn't know that Brooks and Ripley had returned just in time to catch the last bit of Van's workout the other week. What they'd seen had blown their mind. Witch Creek in the form of Battle Brook Stables hadn't been known for it's two year old colts back in the day, more or less they'd been with the fillies on both surfaces. However, Witch Creek in the present was suddenly chock full of stunning two year old colt talent. Mastermind and Red Herring were already coming to hand on the track. Van Guard would be a challenge with Red Herring in keeping them apart once Van broke his maiden. And Van Guard would be breaking his maiden if his dominating workout the other day had anything to say about it. The colt had moved so boundingly easy over the track at Witch Creek which was deeper than most, therefore more trying and protective on the horse's legs. However, he'd been flying. Ripley and Brooks had timed the colt in their heads and each furlong he'd clicked off had been closer to 10 seconds. That was incredible. That was as fast as a vehicle covering the same ground. How did a two year old colt with so much growing up to do produce those kind of times? Neither Brooks nor Ripley could guess. But putting him in a workout with their top three year old filly would help them guess even further.
Maggie watched Ripley watch Van with curious eyes. Ripley had a glint of hunger and triumph in those cat green eyes of hers. It would worry Maggie, but she was betting it was about Van and that she was okay with. She wanted Ripley to see the galloping work that she'd put into the massive two year old. She wanted the assistant training job just like Brooks had. If Ripley thought Van Guard was doing good than clearly Maggie was doing well. Maggie was closer to her assistant training job now. The blonde smiled and reached up to pat the side of Van's red-bay face. He leaned into the pressure for a moment of affection. Within seconds the colt was backing away dramatically into his stall. Thus the pawing ensued. Maggie knew exactly where she wanted Van Guard to make the second start of his racing career. It happened to be in April Week Four at The Wire in the Philliper Maiden. Two horses were entered, Sea Siren from Bowen Acres Stables and Dirty Diana from Stride of Perfection Stables. Both of them were closers and both had experienced the same beginnings to racing as Van Guard had. Dirty Diana would be the horse to beat in this race. She had finished second last time out in the Avril Maiden behind an older horse and she'd also greatly improved over her first two races. Sea Siren had been boldly entered in the Magic Millions Colt Turf where he'd run fifth. Maggie was positive that if Van Guard settled into the big rolling stride of his and had everything his own way on the track, his first start in Witch Creek colors would go quite nicely, possibly ending in a victory. The big colt would have the lead all to himself and he would get the jump on Dirty Diana. Maggie practically purred at the victory waiting her Native Flame protege.
No wonder everyone hates coming in the barn with all this racket. Thank God my apartment's above the broodmare barn! Ripley grinned at Maggie and nodded in exasperated agreement. I need to get these two out so Mastermind, Red Herring and Blitzen can get beauty sleep for their next races. Ripley went to stand in front of Fie's stall and glanced over the filly. The stripe-marked bay instantly stopped her focused attention on digging out her stall and raced to the door, shoving her face into Ripley's. Ripley let out a slow breath and reached up to stroke the white marking. Hey there filly lady. I have some complaints about you that we need to take care of. Ripley looked to Maggie. Maggie nodded. You know I don't want to take her out from under you Maggot. I know her better at this point and I want to get her running in the Acorn. She needs to get there. I know she can. She knows she can. We're all tired of finishing third. We want first or second. Maggie raised her hands defensively at her friend's nervous battle. Oh go on and be quiet Marsh. I understand. I expected it. And quite honestly I don't want her in this state. I'd rather work with my own class clown then yours too.
Ripley laughed and patted Fie's neck. She'd filled out incredibly over the last few weeks and was going to look even better come Acorn Stakes day. Ripley intended on putting weight and muscle into this filly. She needed it. Stress had thinned her down and the big race was coming. Paradise Island was the clear cut leader of the Triple Tiara division. The rest, Winning Touch, Union Jaque, Arachne and After Dusk, were closely bunched together. Ripley was excited to see such a big field possibly being gathered for the Triple Tiara. Paradise Island was a tough nut to crack, but if she was tired from racing, a fresh Fiery Touch would be very willing to close it down. Ripley was plotting very carefully where she wanted to go and when. A break would do nice for Fie. Her late kick would be tremendous at the end. Workouts with Van Guard that simulated a race would also workout.
The pair of women led the filly and colt out of the stall, each setting to work on the nice sized animals. Silence finally settled in the barn as both horses were withdrawn from their stalls. They both stood stock still for their riders. They wanted to get out on the track as fast as possible.
...
Ripley and Maggie walked the horses over the dirt, both keeping relatively quiet. Ripley wanted something sharp and fast. Something to take the edge off of Fie and Van for his first start. Ripley rubbed her chin as the horses picked up sweeping jogs. Maggie rubbed her hands up and down Van's neck appreciating his dominating attitude. The colt was proud to be a Witch Creek race horse. He knew his job was to bring the spotlight and the victory to his barn. He wanted more of Maggie's affection and when he ran strong and fast, he always got it. Ripley nodded to herself, bringing Maggie's attentions away from her powerhouse and onto her boss. A mile gallop with a six furlong workout will do the trick. Maggie raised an eyebrow, impressed. Ripley was really gearing Fiery Touch up for her start in three weeks. Who could blame her?
Fiery Touch was an absolute pain in the rear end today. She was dancing sideways and doing fancy dressage moves every other stride. She wanted to be off. Wanted to race this big son of a gun next to her and show him who the boss was. She wanted Indian Darling running beside her. The two year old filly had been a challenge, a fighter. This big guy looked full of himself. He needed a good whooping. Fie tossed her head up and down, dancing her butt in Van's gigantic direction. Van just turned his rear end in a mimic of hers and continued on his easy going, confident way. Fie nearly lost it, gripping the bit between her teeth and pulling the reins between Ripley's gloved hands. She was the queen around her. Fie launched a solid buck and threatened to bolt. Ripley leaned back and pulled her under control again. Maggie raised an eyebrow.
Wow! Someone is quite full of themselves on this lovely morning! Maggie said. Ripley nodded. You aren't even kidding. Let's get them galloping. Maggie caught the drift here. Ripley wanted a good, solid, heart pounding run. Maggie could sense that Ripley didn't want to give Fie any time to think for herself. Fiery Touch thrashed around some more at the head of the backstretch, already worked up. Her eyes were blazing. She wanted to gun it down the track. Van Guard trotted patiently alongside her on the outside. There was no way she was going to fall for Ripley's rail tricks today, especially with a colt as big as Van. Come on now Fie! You don't want a two year old showing you up again! Do you? Fie let out a snort and Ripley dropped her hands, taking her cue. Instantly, Fie was on the bridle.
Maggie stared as Fiery Touch took off from a near stand still. She'd never seen the light bay so agitated. Maggie booted her mount forward and in moments, Van was swallowing up the speedy dust left in Fie's wake. The big bay colt didn't grab at the bit as ferociously as his new workmate did, instead, he worked off his legs rather than his mouth. Maggie found that it would be harder to control him if jammed in a crowd, but at the moment it was quite easy to deal with him. He lengthened into an easy rocking horse stride, Maggie leaned into his mane, letting it whip her pale face. God he was so wonderful. He pulled himself right on up to Fie's outside and settled in just off her hip. Fiery Touch pinned her ears back, but a remark from Ripley had the three year old refocusing back on the job. She bolted away then settled back into her fierce gallop. Tossing dirt up into Van's face. The bay charged right on through it, not a care in the world. Maggie stroked the colt's neck, confidence zooming through her.
He was such a tough animal for such a young horse. He was immature in the barn and when being handled, but any day out on the track, people would think he was an older horse based on his appearance and demeanor. Maggie stilled herself back up even as Fiery Touch pushed herself up the track. She'd steadied a little bit in her fast pace, enough that Van was able to run neck and neck with her. Fie got a load of the horse running beside her, eyes flashing. He was big, but she wasn't impressed. She put on a burst of speed and he fell back. Maggie shook her head. Fiery Touch was a competitive wrecking ball today. Ripley remained quiet, eyes forward. She was impressed with Fie's new attitude. This was the drive she'd been searching for in her mount. The Acorn Stakes couldn't come soon enough. Ripley guided her close to the rail and the filly wrapped herself up against it, gaining momentum and ground from the tighter corner.
Van Guard settled a length off her now. He wasn't going to keep up with her throughout this workout and gallop at this pace. Fie even backed herself off coming down the homestretch, gathering her breath from that first suicidal wave. She wasn't tired, just tired of gunning it without a purpose. Ripley nodded in satisfaction. Here was the real Fie. Early speed would help them get up close rather closing from far back like they had been. They would still be the last or second to last horse in the field, but an earlier move would bring quicker results. Ripley crooned to her filly as they marched back into the first. The horses slipped past the furlong markers and over the dirt at an easier pace, each stretching to their maximum limits to get all of their muscles going. The horses were limbered up and ready to roll. And so were the riders.
As they marched up the backstretch, Ripley and Maggie seemingly came alive from a sleep. Both of them straightened in the saddle, blue and green eyes narrowed. This was it. The battle to see if Van Guard was the real deal and if Fie could respond to a new challenger first time out. Both bays also sensed the rising adrenaline and tension, their strides shortened in response and their ears flicked backward as if searching for a threat. Of course there was none. The marker passed and Maggie let Van Guard go. He surged right on by Fiery Touch, catching her off guard. The bay filly and Ripley stared in shock as the ground-eating monster moved by on the outside. He'd literally taken two full strides while passing them. He pulled himself to an easy two length lead. Ripley let out a notch on Fiery Touch. She made up the ground, head lowering in order to become economical as they both picked up racing speeds.
Van Guard was going extremely nice. Maggie had yet to move on him since the initial let-go. Van boldly moved along, ears flopping back and forth as if he didn't expect for Fiery Touch to make up the lost ground. However, Fie was no slouch in speed or in size. Maggie looked back to see the bay filly lengthening her stride, moving easily and not even trying to catch Van. Her initial fury was gone. In place was the in control, ever listening Fiery Touch that Ripley knew the best. Maggie turned back and coaxed Van off the rail to give the filly some room. Her big bay needed to learn that any horse when passed could come back to challenge. Ripley nodded in silent agreement with the move. The pair streaked into the far turn, large bodies swinging out into a different path as they picked up ever increasing speed. Fiery Touch was rearing to go now. Ripley let her out notch by notch until the light bay was at Van's flanks.
It was then that the Native Flame colt truly became aware of his competitor. He braced for the onslaught of speed, almost caught in the headlights that Fiery Touch had returned to do battle. Ripley smirked at his listening ears as they drew even on the far turn. Maggie shook the reins at Van to wake him up and he attempted to slip away with those massive strides of his. Only now, Fie was ready to go with him. The second he moved, Fie moved as well. She bolted up the inside rail, black tail streaming out behind her. Fie was a pretty large filly and she just lengthened so nicely. She drew a half length in front as they raced into the homestretch. She wanted to win badly.
Van Guard wasn't even trying or that's what it felt like at least. Maggie moved her hands on him, again asking him for a burst of speed. Fie was slipping away. The big colt shook his head again as if waking up and then exploded when he realized what Maggie was asking. He stormed right on by Fiery Touch, this time not stopping and waiting for her. So much for Ladies First. Ripley finally let go of her entire grip on the reins, they hung slack against Fie's neck. She shot forward as though she'd been sling shotted from a gun and charged up the inside, once again coming to Van's throat latch. He wasn't an easy horse to run down. Every time Fie thought she had his measure, he found one more notch to his limbs and pulled away. But where he was pushed forward merely on raw talent, Fie was bolstered by fury and heart. The light bay found more of her invisible powers to draw from and fought for the lead up the rail. Ripley egged her on in this workout, pushing her hands as if simulating a race. Maggie did as well. Van and Fie swept forward two hundred yards from the wire, eyes alight with shock and fury, respectively.
Fiery Touch gathered herself and suddenly spurted away to take a length lead. She glided beneath the wire a length and a half in front of her stable mate, triumph glinting in her eyes. She strode over the dirt track, strong as can be and moved again into the first turn. Fiery Touch was ready to rumble and with three weeks to prepare her, Ripley was feeling confident that Witch Creek had a threat in the Acorn after all. Maggie watched in admiration from her position farther back on Van. Her big colt hadn't given his all. Once he found his heart and became battle tested then he would truly understand racing. He'd taken very well to having Fiery Touch run up along his inside. He was going to be ready for the Philliper Maiden off this powerful workout. Maggie knew every button to push. He wouldn't get bored during the running of a true race the way he did at home. He'd have his work cut out for him, but he did everything so easy, maybe, just maybe, he would prove Maggie wrong.
ashes in the dark
Photo courtesy of Brandon Benson
Brooks and Ripley were pretty excited about this next match up over the dirt track. Ashes to Ashes and Midnight Thriller were both Akita Rose Stables products. One with the bloodlines of a precocious two year old champion in Crooked Fire, the other with classic lines in Night Stalker and El Sol del Mar. So far this year, Ashes to Ashes was beyond and away the better of the two. The three year old colt had won three times this season and had not placed out of the top three in six starts on the year so far. His resume was looking pretty impressive and his next start would come in the Fluffy Cup at Green Horse Fields versus his own stable mate, Popcorn Blitz. Two others were also entered in the form of Prideful Limits, Feline Frenzy and Arachne. Midnight Thriller had been put into races where she could not show her best efforts. Since her third place effort in the Unicorn Horn Fillies Dirt, Midtee had placed out of the money in every subsequent start, even her first start with Witch Creek. Ripley was out to turn the black filly's season around beginning with the Deschampbault Derby over at The Wire. The owner of Witch Creek Stable and former owner of Battle Brook was not one for changing game plans, but she would make a change this time around.
If Midnight Thriller was not up to her full potential in time for Acorn Stakes, the first race of the Triple Tiara, the black filly would not be going. The Triple Tiara did not make or break a filly racehorse. It did limit options for classic consideration, but there would be time later on for classics. Ripley wasn't going to ruin one of El Sol del Mar's first fillies. If she shaped up in time to run in the Belmont Stakes or Queens Plate, maybe a classic run at the colts would more than make up for the missed opportunity in the Triple Tiara. Ripley drank her lemonade and leaned against the stall. She'd already spoken about her plans to Brooks and Maggie and surprisingly both were quite happy with them. Both wanted to see Midnight Thriller succeed on the track before passing on El Sol del Mar's bloodlines in the breeding shed. And both were quite confident that Ripley Marsh could reverse the clock on the Night Stalker filly and turn her into a grade one race horse down the line. She was already doing it with Ashes to Ashes. Midtee just had to play catchup.
Justin and Connor groomed the horses under Ripley's watchful eye. Midtee and Ashes were both known for throwing hissy fits when being tacked up. Midtee was seemingly in love with Justin so Ripley was quite sure that the filly's bad attitude was not going to make so much of an appearance as it usually did. The black filly nuzzled and whuffled her lips over Justin's dark curls every time he ducked under her head. She would reach around and rub his sides, eyes flicking with love. There was no doubt about who the filly's affections were drawn towards. In the cross-ties facing Midtee, Ashes wasn't so happy about Midtee's affections either. The 16.2 hand bay stomped and tossed his head, nickering lovingly in her direction, doing anything to draw her gaze away from the boy. It worked, but only for seconds at a time. Ripley laughed and went up to Ash and stroked his shoulders. Easy big guy. She knows you love her very much. She's just playing hard to get. Ash lowered his hurt face into Ripley's gentle hands and blew out a soft breath. The big bay had settled in pretty darn nicely since coming to Witch Creek. Ripley'd fallen for the big colt quite quickly. So had Brooks. Ash fit in perfectly at Witch Creek. It was with guilty thoughts, that Ripley hoped Akita Rose took a while to build their barns back up. Just to keep this big guy around.
Ripley smiled at the horse and went to look at Midnight Thriller. The Night Stalker filly had finished fourth in her first start for Witch Creek. She'd run wonderfully up until that final furlong. It'd felt as if she'd given up in the Cadillax Stakes. The black filly just hadn't answered Ripley's call to battle. The partnership was new so maybe that was the reason for the poor showing. However, it was also a reason for concern. After being beaten so badly recently, Midtee didn't have the heart to run anymore. It needed to be fixed. Ripley was planning to focus Midtee's talents down to the marathon races at twelve furlongs. The competition was more fined tuned toward the classic ten furlong distance. Midtee didn't like to stop going. In fact after her last race, it'd taken a whole other circuit of the track to even pull her up. She wanted to run so bad, but was afraid of losing at the wire. Ripley hoped today's workout would show her that she could win and didn't have to be afraid to throw down a challenge. Her next start would be in Deschampbault Derby. So far the only other entrant was Sweet Inferno, a half sister to Ashes to Ashes. Sweet Inferno only had one win to her name after facing older horses for most of the year so far. However, she'd finished ahead of Midtee in the Cadillax Derby. Midtee was going to be geared up for this next race. The classic distance had been thrown out for the moment. Marathoning would be the way to go.
Ripley dug out a carrot from her pocket and fed the three year old filly. Midtee bobbed her head up and down in appreciation, her eyes glinting with happiness. She'd taken a little longer than Ash to settle into Witch Creek. Now that she knew she was safe, the filly was thriving. How was she to catch this morning Justin? Justin rolled his eyes and laughed. Ask Connor. He caught her I didn't. Ripley looked over at Justin's older brother and saw him roll his eyes. A nightmare to say the least. She only lets Justin catch her. Ripley laughed and patted Connor's shoulder as he bent over to pick Ash's hooves. She's a bag girl anyway. You just have the effect on the angel girls. Connor snorted. Like Lulu. He relaxed. He loved the gray filly. She was the nicest one in the barn as far as he was concerned. So Connor, how much longer until the program is over? Connor and Justin sat up alertly, frightened looks in both their eyes. Ripley pretended to ignore the looks while she messed with Midtee's bridle.
Only a few weeks Ms. Marsh. Ripley pursed her lips, pretending like she was mulling something over. In fact, she'd already come to the conclusion a few weeks ago after she'd seen how well the boys dealt with horses. Well both of you are adults and both of you have to go to some schooling. Justin's eyes flared up in anger, just as she suspected they would. The boy just didn't want to go back to school. The look in Connor's eyes though was quite the opposite. They were filled with hope and excitement. Connor if you'd like to go to college, I'm more than capable of paying off the tuition. Mastermind's wins have pretty much paid off two years of your college education. She looked back at the boy whose eyes were wide with shock. Are you kidding me Ripley? Ripley let out a hoot and smiled. No sir. Just fill out some college apps. and put them on my desk first thing Friday. Connor was so pale beneath his caramel colored skin. Thank you Ripley! The boy was truly stunned. He'd never been given this kind of consideration before in his life. Ripley was afraid of the kind of consideration he had been given. She still couldn't place a hand on his shoulder without him nearly falling to the ground. Justin was looking at her expectantly, with a sad look to his eyes. He didn't want to go to school. He wanted to stay with Ripley and Witch Creek.
Ripley was in the process of putting on Ash's bridle when Justin spoke. What about me Ripley? Are you making me go to school? Ripley raised her eyebrows as if she'd just noticed him. Nah. I need a boy working around the barn. You see we've got some yearlings that need breaking and training. Little old me can't handle those rotten one year olds. Justin's face lit up in a glow. However, I will be forcefeeding equine books and math books down your throat. Just because you're not getting an edumacation, doesn't mean you're going to let that brain rot on me. I need smart people. Connor snorted and Justin bounced himself right into Ripley's arms for a bear hug. He was such an opposite to his older brother, who cast an anxious look down shed row.
...
Brooks and Ripley rode side by side on the black and bay horses, eyes sweeping over the Witch Creek property. They had one more workout after this between Cross and Bella Luna. The day was about to become quite bustling. The weanlings would be separated from their mommas and the yearlings would begin training today or tomorrow. A hectic day, but it would pass into a peaceful tomorrow. Brooks looked over at Ripley. She looked great in this early morning light and very satisfied. He liked to take some credit from putting that satisfaction on her face. He loved her more than anything, more than any woman he'd ever known. She was the perfect woman for him. He smiled when she sent a narrowed look in his direction. What Brooks? Brooks let out a grin and took her hand in his. Oh nothing. Just thinking you look quite ravishing this morning. Ripley blushed as red as a tomato. Brooks bared a toothy smile her way. God, he was going to have to wait all the way until the Breeders Cup to engage her. He wanted to get it over with now. That's how head over heels he was for her.
The pair looped their way around the stud barn, eyeing the bay, chestnut and black bodies of DW Flamekissed, Positively Precious and Imitation Black. The stallions were settled in their own adjacent paddocks, lifting their heads curiously as Midtee and Ash passed by before settling back to grazing. They had the life here at Witch Creek Stable and they knew it. Everything that came to Witch Creek had a life time home here. Ripley patted Midnight Thriller's neck and settled into the filly's feminine stride. Including rival barn horses if they ever needed one.
Ash bucked heartily the moment he set hoof on the dirt track. Brooks nearly went tumbling over his head and Ripley snorted. The man was continually at odds with his male counterparts. At least he could stick to the saddle. Brooks tucked a wry curl back into his riding helmet and looked sheepishly at Ripley. My bad. I forgot that he doesn't like to be told when to move. Ripley rolled her eyes and asked Midtee for an easy jog. The black filly still moved in her strange sweeping gait, but Ripley had become accustomed to it over the last month and a half. She moved her hips in time to the gait and kept an extremely light contact with the filly's soft mouth. Their last race had been a learning experience for them. They would be better off for the next race. It would determine whether the Marathon route would work for Midtee or not.
Brooks was extremely impressed with the overall body of work that Ashes to Ashes was bringing into his training and racing game. The colt was hard to handle in the fact that you basically had to leave him alone and let him do his own thing prior to and after the race. The muscled animal wasn't difficult in any other sense of the word. He was a running machine, powerful and strong. He thrived on racing. He'd get a week off and then run back in the Fluffy Cup against Popcorn Blitz at Green Horse Fields in April Week Four. Popcorn Blitz would bring more speed to the table, but Ash just exuded class wherever he went. More entries had been taken as well including Prideful Limits, Feline Frenzy and Arachne. The Fluffy Cup was loaded with speed upon speed. Every runner was a confirmed Front Runner. Brooks was going to take advantage of the situation and draw Ashes back to a preceder/stalker position. The bay could handle it, especially being more a distance horse. The bettors had pushed him down to favoritism in his subsequent starts after Witch Creek had taken over. Both starts he'd won going away over two three horse fields. He'd been emphatic and tough. There was no doubt that he would start going places. Brooks had been nervous in the first start together, not knowing how Ash would react to gating and the race, whether he would take orders. He had surprisingly done both very well. Brooks patted the horse's neck contentedly.
How far and fast today Marsh? Ripley jerked herself out of her reverie and thought. I want to test Midtee out over a distance. Witch Creek might just need a marathon runner in the racing ranks. Let's plan on a mile and a half gallop with a seven furlong test. Give them both a solid workout. Ash has a week to recuperate and should do well off of this and gallops up to the Fluffy Cup. Brooks nodded. This would be a fun, battle testing ride.
They'd jogged their way around the track and were back in the homestretch when Ripley signaled for them to break off into a gallop. Midtee picked up a quick stride in response to the break, but gradually settled into a relaxed, ground-swallowing gallop. The black filly was a gorgeous ride. Confident in her movement, an economical runner, Midtee ran with her head low, stretching her body out to it's full length, but not it's full capabilities. The Night Stalker filly was the picture of the lengthy race horse in the old time paintings. She stayed perfectly in her own path, hedging Ash close into the rail, causing Brooks to look up at Ripley in suspicion. Ashes to Ashes wasn't a big fan of the rail. Who could blame him with that gigantic muscular frame of his? Brooks glared at Ripley until she looked up and casually flicked her wrist. Instantly, Midtee moved off Ash and gave him some breathing room. Ripley could be such a witch when you rode against her. She knew the weaknesses of most every horse, especially those at Witch Creek. She knew Midtee was gaining some confidence by pushing Ash into the rail. No wonder she was more than happy to move Midtee away.
The black filly picked up speed as they marched into the homestretch. Brooks had to admit that the El Sol del Mar filly looked pretty confident riding today beneath Ripley. There was an edge to her that hadn't been there before. Her fury that she'd displayed in the last workout was still burning within her body, but it was controlled, almost relaxed. Ash was having an easy time keeping up with her for the moment, but it would be more of a matter at the end of the speed test. Midtee was built for long races. Ash, not so much. If he could keep up with Midtee than he was running on talent and raw body strength. Brooks kept his hands quiet, but his mouth was constantly moving as he spoke to the thick horse. Ash kept his ears back to listen, listening for the country music that would set him off on a blistering run. That was a new trick. Ripley didn't know about it yet. He would be more than happy to show her that she wasn't the only one with tricks up her sleeve.
The filly and colt ate up the track in the mid-morning light. The black and the bay ran strongly up the track, eyes flashing with every passing furlong, as if they too could count the distance and time until they really got to run. Midnight Thriller lifted her head up in excitement when Ripley moved her hands closer to her lap. The filly was an absolute fire ball at the moment. She could feel Ripley's excitement for all of her big plans. The black filly wanted to go, go, go. She was hyped up and ready to prove to Ripley and the rest that she could win if she learned how. The filly lifted her forelegs up in play and did a quick running in place stride, tearing for Ripley's control. Ripley remained quiet and confident. This was her ride. She was going to make it a good one.
They whipped into mile number two. Ash was pumped up with adrenaline as they raced for the backstretch. The colt wasn't used to running for so long in a gallop. He knew they had to be close to finished. His energy was tremendous. He wanted to use it to beat down his filly workmate. His love for her in the barn had greatly diminished out on the track. He wanted to pummel her to a pulp. His aggression was gradually increasing, his breathing becoming louder with every stride. He didn't tear at Brooks like Midtee tore at Ripley. However, he also didn't settle like the black filly did. It was as if Ripley had told Midnight Thriller the plan because instantly the filly relaxed back into her cruising galloping stride and let off the gas pedal. Ash tossed his head quickly losing patience. Brooks prayed for this next mile to be over quickly.
Ripley could feel Ash unraveling beneath Brooks. The big bay wanted to pour it on. He wasn't tired by any stretch of the imagination. He just wanted his head and he wanted it now. Midtee's ears were crammed back into her mane, eyes blazing with an overwhelming ferocity. She also wanted to go, but Ripley had told her to slow down and to settle. She did so, but kept a watchful eye on Ashes to Ashes. If the Crooked Fire colt gunned it, then so would she regardless if the rider on her back wanted her to or not. Ripley counted the furlong markers off as they charged into the far turn. Half the homestretch and then it would be the start to the seven furlong workout. Her adrenaline must have spiked because instantly, Midtee's head flew up in sudden excitement. Ripley shhed at her and ran her hands along the filly's neck, trying to calm herself down as well as her mount. She wanted to see if her plan would work. Would there be any horse left at the end of this long, arduous run?
There it was. The wire, usually marking a finish, flashed by, marking the start. Brooks let out a huge sigh of relief and finally let Ashes to Ashes move out into a heart pounding gallop. The big bay surged beyond his workmate, ears pinned in frustration. He'd been searching for this release. Brooks sat completely still on the Crooked Fire colt's back, letting him settle into his running gait. He glanced to the right and saw Ripley had let out Midnight Thriller a notch. Midtee moved easily, letting Ash have his lead. She was a dynamic and very contrary filly. She had been fighting for the chance to run and now that she could, it didn't matter so much at the moment. Ripley still remained quiet as Ash took a three length lead over his stablemate.
The pair flew through the first three furlongs, Ash finally settling down enough for Midtee to regain a length of the runaway lead. Brooks felt a load of energy beneath him. Ash was waiting for Midtee's challenge and he was winging it out here on the front end. Brooks wanted the work done. He was proud of his horse for keeping up this strong pace for nearly three miles of work, but he knew Ripley's filly had this in the bag. Glancing beneath his arm, he felt dread pour through his veins. The Night Stalker filly was absolutely stalking Ash. Her head was low, her ears back, eyes blazing, but she was basically on cruise control beneath Ripley. Oh Lord she was magnificent mid-run.
The fifth furlong passed and he looked back. Ripley grinned and dropped the reins and suddenly Midnight Thriller was roaring up alongside Ashes to Ashes. They would end this race just after the final turn and at the moment they were just heading into it. But her black filly was absolutely flying. She swarmed Ash instantly and then didn't even bother to wait for a rebuttal. Brooks and Ash shook their heads in frustration when she simply overwhelmed them and flew into the turn, black body turning into a high class military jet. Ripley wasn't moving on her and was actually pretty afraid at the moment. Not that she would tell Brooks, but the speed that this filly had was like nothing she'd ever ridden beyond a mile and a quarter. This filly wanted distance and as they kept going, she terrifyingly got stronger and faster. Within the two furlongs, Midtee had developed a seven length lead. Ripley brought her quickly underwraps after the final turn. She let out a breath. What an amazing filly. A true marathoner.
Ashes to Ashes was more exasperated than tired, Brooks shut him down after the workout. Not bothering to catch up to Midtee. Ash had been flying, but he was no marathon runner. He was content with up to the classic distance and had been unbeatable up until the fifth furlong of that workout. The sixth and seventh furlongs had merely been his gallop out. He praised Ash's effort with soft words and lilting bit of country of music. Ash pranced and acted like he hadn't just gotten romped all over in his workout. Ash had been brilliant and was more than ready for the Fluffy Cup. He wasn't ready to face Midnight Thriller in a marathon race and frankly, both horse and rider were more than satisfied with that fact.
If Midnight Thriller was not up to her full potential in time for Acorn Stakes, the first race of the Triple Tiara, the black filly would not be going. The Triple Tiara did not make or break a filly racehorse. It did limit options for classic consideration, but there would be time later on for classics. Ripley wasn't going to ruin one of El Sol del Mar's first fillies. If she shaped up in time to run in the Belmont Stakes or Queens Plate, maybe a classic run at the colts would more than make up for the missed opportunity in the Triple Tiara. Ripley drank her lemonade and leaned against the stall. She'd already spoken about her plans to Brooks and Maggie and surprisingly both were quite happy with them. Both wanted to see Midnight Thriller succeed on the track before passing on El Sol del Mar's bloodlines in the breeding shed. And both were quite confident that Ripley Marsh could reverse the clock on the Night Stalker filly and turn her into a grade one race horse down the line. She was already doing it with Ashes to Ashes. Midtee just had to play catchup.
Justin and Connor groomed the horses under Ripley's watchful eye. Midtee and Ashes were both known for throwing hissy fits when being tacked up. Midtee was seemingly in love with Justin so Ripley was quite sure that the filly's bad attitude was not going to make so much of an appearance as it usually did. The black filly nuzzled and whuffled her lips over Justin's dark curls every time he ducked under her head. She would reach around and rub his sides, eyes flicking with love. There was no doubt about who the filly's affections were drawn towards. In the cross-ties facing Midtee, Ashes wasn't so happy about Midtee's affections either. The 16.2 hand bay stomped and tossed his head, nickering lovingly in her direction, doing anything to draw her gaze away from the boy. It worked, but only for seconds at a time. Ripley laughed and went up to Ash and stroked his shoulders. Easy big guy. She knows you love her very much. She's just playing hard to get. Ash lowered his hurt face into Ripley's gentle hands and blew out a soft breath. The big bay had settled in pretty darn nicely since coming to Witch Creek. Ripley'd fallen for the big colt quite quickly. So had Brooks. Ash fit in perfectly at Witch Creek. It was with guilty thoughts, that Ripley hoped Akita Rose took a while to build their barns back up. Just to keep this big guy around.
Ripley smiled at the horse and went to look at Midnight Thriller. The Night Stalker filly had finished fourth in her first start for Witch Creek. She'd run wonderfully up until that final furlong. It'd felt as if she'd given up in the Cadillax Stakes. The black filly just hadn't answered Ripley's call to battle. The partnership was new so maybe that was the reason for the poor showing. However, it was also a reason for concern. After being beaten so badly recently, Midtee didn't have the heart to run anymore. It needed to be fixed. Ripley was planning to focus Midtee's talents down to the marathon races at twelve furlongs. The competition was more fined tuned toward the classic ten furlong distance. Midtee didn't like to stop going. In fact after her last race, it'd taken a whole other circuit of the track to even pull her up. She wanted to run so bad, but was afraid of losing at the wire. Ripley hoped today's workout would show her that she could win and didn't have to be afraid to throw down a challenge. Her next start would be in Deschampbault Derby. So far the only other entrant was Sweet Inferno, a half sister to Ashes to Ashes. Sweet Inferno only had one win to her name after facing older horses for most of the year so far. However, she'd finished ahead of Midtee in the Cadillax Derby. Midtee was going to be geared up for this next race. The classic distance had been thrown out for the moment. Marathoning would be the way to go.
Ripley dug out a carrot from her pocket and fed the three year old filly. Midtee bobbed her head up and down in appreciation, her eyes glinting with happiness. She'd taken a little longer than Ash to settle into Witch Creek. Now that she knew she was safe, the filly was thriving. How was she to catch this morning Justin? Justin rolled his eyes and laughed. Ask Connor. He caught her I didn't. Ripley looked over at Justin's older brother and saw him roll his eyes. A nightmare to say the least. She only lets Justin catch her. Ripley laughed and patted Connor's shoulder as he bent over to pick Ash's hooves. She's a bag girl anyway. You just have the effect on the angel girls. Connor snorted. Like Lulu. He relaxed. He loved the gray filly. She was the nicest one in the barn as far as he was concerned. So Connor, how much longer until the program is over? Connor and Justin sat up alertly, frightened looks in both their eyes. Ripley pretended to ignore the looks while she messed with Midtee's bridle.
Only a few weeks Ms. Marsh. Ripley pursed her lips, pretending like she was mulling something over. In fact, she'd already come to the conclusion a few weeks ago after she'd seen how well the boys dealt with horses. Well both of you are adults and both of you have to go to some schooling. Justin's eyes flared up in anger, just as she suspected they would. The boy just didn't want to go back to school. The look in Connor's eyes though was quite the opposite. They were filled with hope and excitement. Connor if you'd like to go to college, I'm more than capable of paying off the tuition. Mastermind's wins have pretty much paid off two years of your college education. She looked back at the boy whose eyes were wide with shock. Are you kidding me Ripley? Ripley let out a hoot and smiled. No sir. Just fill out some college apps. and put them on my desk first thing Friday. Connor was so pale beneath his caramel colored skin. Thank you Ripley! The boy was truly stunned. He'd never been given this kind of consideration before in his life. Ripley was afraid of the kind of consideration he had been given. She still couldn't place a hand on his shoulder without him nearly falling to the ground. Justin was looking at her expectantly, with a sad look to his eyes. He didn't want to go to school. He wanted to stay with Ripley and Witch Creek.
Ripley was in the process of putting on Ash's bridle when Justin spoke. What about me Ripley? Are you making me go to school? Ripley raised her eyebrows as if she'd just noticed him. Nah. I need a boy working around the barn. You see we've got some yearlings that need breaking and training. Little old me can't handle those rotten one year olds. Justin's face lit up in a glow. However, I will be forcefeeding equine books and math books down your throat. Just because you're not getting an edumacation, doesn't mean you're going to let that brain rot on me. I need smart people. Connor snorted and Justin bounced himself right into Ripley's arms for a bear hug. He was such an opposite to his older brother, who cast an anxious look down shed row.
...
Brooks and Ripley rode side by side on the black and bay horses, eyes sweeping over the Witch Creek property. They had one more workout after this between Cross and Bella Luna. The day was about to become quite bustling. The weanlings would be separated from their mommas and the yearlings would begin training today or tomorrow. A hectic day, but it would pass into a peaceful tomorrow. Brooks looked over at Ripley. She looked great in this early morning light and very satisfied. He liked to take some credit from putting that satisfaction on her face. He loved her more than anything, more than any woman he'd ever known. She was the perfect woman for him. He smiled when she sent a narrowed look in his direction. What Brooks? Brooks let out a grin and took her hand in his. Oh nothing. Just thinking you look quite ravishing this morning. Ripley blushed as red as a tomato. Brooks bared a toothy smile her way. God, he was going to have to wait all the way until the Breeders Cup to engage her. He wanted to get it over with now. That's how head over heels he was for her.
The pair looped their way around the stud barn, eyeing the bay, chestnut and black bodies of DW Flamekissed, Positively Precious and Imitation Black. The stallions were settled in their own adjacent paddocks, lifting their heads curiously as Midtee and Ash passed by before settling back to grazing. They had the life here at Witch Creek Stable and they knew it. Everything that came to Witch Creek had a life time home here. Ripley patted Midnight Thriller's neck and settled into the filly's feminine stride. Including rival barn horses if they ever needed one.
Ash bucked heartily the moment he set hoof on the dirt track. Brooks nearly went tumbling over his head and Ripley snorted. The man was continually at odds with his male counterparts. At least he could stick to the saddle. Brooks tucked a wry curl back into his riding helmet and looked sheepishly at Ripley. My bad. I forgot that he doesn't like to be told when to move. Ripley rolled her eyes and asked Midtee for an easy jog. The black filly still moved in her strange sweeping gait, but Ripley had become accustomed to it over the last month and a half. She moved her hips in time to the gait and kept an extremely light contact with the filly's soft mouth. Their last race had been a learning experience for them. They would be better off for the next race. It would determine whether the Marathon route would work for Midtee or not.
Brooks was extremely impressed with the overall body of work that Ashes to Ashes was bringing into his training and racing game. The colt was hard to handle in the fact that you basically had to leave him alone and let him do his own thing prior to and after the race. The muscled animal wasn't difficult in any other sense of the word. He was a running machine, powerful and strong. He thrived on racing. He'd get a week off and then run back in the Fluffy Cup against Popcorn Blitz at Green Horse Fields in April Week Four. Popcorn Blitz would bring more speed to the table, but Ash just exuded class wherever he went. More entries had been taken as well including Prideful Limits, Feline Frenzy and Arachne. The Fluffy Cup was loaded with speed upon speed. Every runner was a confirmed Front Runner. Brooks was going to take advantage of the situation and draw Ashes back to a preceder/stalker position. The bay could handle it, especially being more a distance horse. The bettors had pushed him down to favoritism in his subsequent starts after Witch Creek had taken over. Both starts he'd won going away over two three horse fields. He'd been emphatic and tough. There was no doubt that he would start going places. Brooks had been nervous in the first start together, not knowing how Ash would react to gating and the race, whether he would take orders. He had surprisingly done both very well. Brooks patted the horse's neck contentedly.
How far and fast today Marsh? Ripley jerked herself out of her reverie and thought. I want to test Midtee out over a distance. Witch Creek might just need a marathon runner in the racing ranks. Let's plan on a mile and a half gallop with a seven furlong test. Give them both a solid workout. Ash has a week to recuperate and should do well off of this and gallops up to the Fluffy Cup. Brooks nodded. This would be a fun, battle testing ride.
They'd jogged their way around the track and were back in the homestretch when Ripley signaled for them to break off into a gallop. Midtee picked up a quick stride in response to the break, but gradually settled into a relaxed, ground-swallowing gallop. The black filly was a gorgeous ride. Confident in her movement, an economical runner, Midtee ran with her head low, stretching her body out to it's full length, but not it's full capabilities. The Night Stalker filly was the picture of the lengthy race horse in the old time paintings. She stayed perfectly in her own path, hedging Ash close into the rail, causing Brooks to look up at Ripley in suspicion. Ashes to Ashes wasn't a big fan of the rail. Who could blame him with that gigantic muscular frame of his? Brooks glared at Ripley until she looked up and casually flicked her wrist. Instantly, Midtee moved off Ash and gave him some breathing room. Ripley could be such a witch when you rode against her. She knew the weaknesses of most every horse, especially those at Witch Creek. She knew Midtee was gaining some confidence by pushing Ash into the rail. No wonder she was more than happy to move Midtee away.
The black filly picked up speed as they marched into the homestretch. Brooks had to admit that the El Sol del Mar filly looked pretty confident riding today beneath Ripley. There was an edge to her that hadn't been there before. Her fury that she'd displayed in the last workout was still burning within her body, but it was controlled, almost relaxed. Ash was having an easy time keeping up with her for the moment, but it would be more of a matter at the end of the speed test. Midtee was built for long races. Ash, not so much. If he could keep up with Midtee than he was running on talent and raw body strength. Brooks kept his hands quiet, but his mouth was constantly moving as he spoke to the thick horse. Ash kept his ears back to listen, listening for the country music that would set him off on a blistering run. That was a new trick. Ripley didn't know about it yet. He would be more than happy to show her that she wasn't the only one with tricks up her sleeve.
The filly and colt ate up the track in the mid-morning light. The black and the bay ran strongly up the track, eyes flashing with every passing furlong, as if they too could count the distance and time until they really got to run. Midnight Thriller lifted her head up in excitement when Ripley moved her hands closer to her lap. The filly was an absolute fire ball at the moment. She could feel Ripley's excitement for all of her big plans. The black filly wanted to go, go, go. She was hyped up and ready to prove to Ripley and the rest that she could win if she learned how. The filly lifted her forelegs up in play and did a quick running in place stride, tearing for Ripley's control. Ripley remained quiet and confident. This was her ride. She was going to make it a good one.
They whipped into mile number two. Ash was pumped up with adrenaline as they raced for the backstretch. The colt wasn't used to running for so long in a gallop. He knew they had to be close to finished. His energy was tremendous. He wanted to use it to beat down his filly workmate. His love for her in the barn had greatly diminished out on the track. He wanted to pummel her to a pulp. His aggression was gradually increasing, his breathing becoming louder with every stride. He didn't tear at Brooks like Midtee tore at Ripley. However, he also didn't settle like the black filly did. It was as if Ripley had told Midnight Thriller the plan because instantly the filly relaxed back into her cruising galloping stride and let off the gas pedal. Ash tossed his head quickly losing patience. Brooks prayed for this next mile to be over quickly.
Ripley could feel Ash unraveling beneath Brooks. The big bay wanted to pour it on. He wasn't tired by any stretch of the imagination. He just wanted his head and he wanted it now. Midtee's ears were crammed back into her mane, eyes blazing with an overwhelming ferocity. She also wanted to go, but Ripley had told her to slow down and to settle. She did so, but kept a watchful eye on Ashes to Ashes. If the Crooked Fire colt gunned it, then so would she regardless if the rider on her back wanted her to or not. Ripley counted the furlong markers off as they charged into the far turn. Half the homestretch and then it would be the start to the seven furlong workout. Her adrenaline must have spiked because instantly, Midtee's head flew up in sudden excitement. Ripley shhed at her and ran her hands along the filly's neck, trying to calm herself down as well as her mount. She wanted to see if her plan would work. Would there be any horse left at the end of this long, arduous run?
There it was. The wire, usually marking a finish, flashed by, marking the start. Brooks let out a huge sigh of relief and finally let Ashes to Ashes move out into a heart pounding gallop. The big bay surged beyond his workmate, ears pinned in frustration. He'd been searching for this release. Brooks sat completely still on the Crooked Fire colt's back, letting him settle into his running gait. He glanced to the right and saw Ripley had let out Midnight Thriller a notch. Midtee moved easily, letting Ash have his lead. She was a dynamic and very contrary filly. She had been fighting for the chance to run and now that she could, it didn't matter so much at the moment. Ripley still remained quiet as Ash took a three length lead over his stablemate.
The pair flew through the first three furlongs, Ash finally settling down enough for Midtee to regain a length of the runaway lead. Brooks felt a load of energy beneath him. Ash was waiting for Midtee's challenge and he was winging it out here on the front end. Brooks wanted the work done. He was proud of his horse for keeping up this strong pace for nearly three miles of work, but he knew Ripley's filly had this in the bag. Glancing beneath his arm, he felt dread pour through his veins. The Night Stalker filly was absolutely stalking Ash. Her head was low, her ears back, eyes blazing, but she was basically on cruise control beneath Ripley. Oh Lord she was magnificent mid-run.
The fifth furlong passed and he looked back. Ripley grinned and dropped the reins and suddenly Midnight Thriller was roaring up alongside Ashes to Ashes. They would end this race just after the final turn and at the moment they were just heading into it. But her black filly was absolutely flying. She swarmed Ash instantly and then didn't even bother to wait for a rebuttal. Brooks and Ash shook their heads in frustration when she simply overwhelmed them and flew into the turn, black body turning into a high class military jet. Ripley wasn't moving on her and was actually pretty afraid at the moment. Not that she would tell Brooks, but the speed that this filly had was like nothing she'd ever ridden beyond a mile and a quarter. This filly wanted distance and as they kept going, she terrifyingly got stronger and faster. Within the two furlongs, Midtee had developed a seven length lead. Ripley brought her quickly underwraps after the final turn. She let out a breath. What an amazing filly. A true marathoner.
Ashes to Ashes was more exasperated than tired, Brooks shut him down after the workout. Not bothering to catch up to Midtee. Ash had been flying, but he was no marathon runner. He was content with up to the classic distance and had been unbeatable up until the fifth furlong of that workout. The sixth and seventh furlongs had merely been his gallop out. He praised Ash's effort with soft words and lilting bit of country of music. Ash pranced and acted like he hadn't just gotten romped all over in his workout. Ash had been brilliant and was more than ready for the Fluffy Cup. He wasn't ready to face Midnight Thriller in a marathon race and frankly, both horse and rider were more than satisfied with that fact.
cross thy heart
Photo courtesy of Allison L. Janezic
Ripley crooned to her black filly quietly in the stall. Her little engine that could. Cross My Heart had been incredible in her first three starts of her racing. She'd run away and hid in the Stable Face Off Maiden Turf Sprint. Her last start had been against a more experienced two year old filly, who'd had to give it her all in order to beat down the savage little black filly. Yes, Cross probably had the most guts out of the entire Witch Creek racing string. It was as though she knew that she had something to prove. Maybe prove to everyone else. Ripley so far was quite satisfied with her kill auction purchase. The two year old was skittish, hard to handle if you were a man. She had been a little difficult at the gate, but there was no horse more breath taking in her speed than Cross My Heart. It was about time people started owning up to it too.
Ripley glared pointedly down the stall row. Cross lowered her head and sniffed the shavings, letting out a sigh of happiness. If Brooks saw the filly this way, there would be no doubt that Cross was possibly a better purchase than even Red Herring had been. The auburn haired woman ran her fingers over the filly's white diamond, grinning into her softly haunted eyes. Cross had come to physical perfection so nicely in the last few weeks. Racing and constant workouts had turned her into a dainty machine built for running. Quite frankly, Cross reminded Ripley of the little Arabian horses running across the Saudi Arabian desert. She had the looks of a horse that could go long, but why mess with something that was already perfect at short distances. Ripley ran her hands over the filly's dappled out haunches, crooning to ease the tension lines above her dark eyes. Cross was something. A rising star for the Witch Creek barn. That much Ripley was certain. Cross cocked a hoof and twitched her tail. Ripley looked up and out of the entrance to the stall. Cross whinnied nervously and the peace was lost.
Brooks' shadow passed over the opposite side of the stalls as he reached for Bella Luna. The silver-gray filly nickered happily when she saw him. He heard the nervous pacing of Cross and ignored it. She was Ripley's filly through and through. Ripley's filly more than Witch Creek's filly. Bella Luna on the other hand was Witch Creek's filly. The two year old juvenile was running among the top of the racing elites. Her last race in the Magic Millions Fillies Turf had pretty much solidified her as a threat to watch later on both this season and next. She'd run well against Ventura and Nightshade and was now on the hunt for a win of her own. For a filly with only one win to her name, Bella Luna was packing quite a punch in her recent races. She hadn't run out of the top three since February. Her next start would come April Week Four in the April Juvenile Face Off. Ode to Glory from Stride of Perfection Stables was a mid-packer and Bella Luna would have a nice jump over that horse being a stalker herself. However, Ode to Glory wasn't the only starter, Blue Me Away from Silver Stride Stables was also entered. The colt was possibly the best two year old on the turf. With four wins coming in the top races for Juvenile Turfers. Blue Me Away was a front runner and Bella Luna would be in perfect position for stalking him. It wouldn't be an easy race, but recently with the way Lulu was training, she was gunning for her second win of the season. They would be a factor in the later races, it was just a matter of getting there.
Brooks was so content with his mounts these days. Frozen Motion would be going in the Kentucky Open against Infinite Warcry for the Turf Triple Crown. He was worried about that start, but Freeze was training just as nicely as Bella Luna. Red Herring had made a splash in the Juvenile Dirt divisions. Brooks stroked the silver-white filly, going over her legs and looking into her eyes and ears. Bella Luna was his top priority. Today's workout was a top priority as well. He patted Lulu's neck and met Ripley in the tack room. He swung her hand in a circle, picking her up by her armpits. Hey pretty lady. Ripley snorted and obliged him a soft kiss. Hi. Quit scaring my filly. Brooks rolled his eyes and put the woman down. Here we go again. If I can't come in the barn to get my own horse ready, than Cross should move. Ripley glared at him as she snagged Cross' bridle. Get over it. Try to make an attempt to befriend her at least. You'll realize she isn't out to get your goat. Ripley swung angrily out of the tack room and marched into Cross' stall. Brooks heard her quietly click it shut, such a contrast to the woman who most likely would have slammed the door had it not been the door to the racing barn.
She was so easy to set off these days. Brooks walked himself out of the tack room and walked into Bella Luna's stall. The filly eyed him with nervously curious eyes. He rubbed his hands over her sleek body and all was right with the world. Bella Luna sighed and nearly fell asleep at the wheel. Cross took a while to calm down in contrast, body lightly sweating up. As soon as Ripley settled into the routine of grooming, however, she fell just as quiet and peaceful as Bella Luna. If only he could see what they had. Then he would realize that Cross was just as much Witch Creeks' has she was Ripley's.
...
Cross danced excitedly as they set hoof on the turf at the start of the rolling track. She was keyed up and extremely happy. Ripley stroked her neck in an effort to calm her, but Cross would have none of it. She tossed her head and danced sideways, letting out a wild whinny. She loved to run. Loved to have some sense of achievement beneath her belt. Her next start would not come until May Week One in the I'm Special Stakes. Ripley was going to have her ready to roll off of long gallops and light drills. This workout would only help her achieve that goal again and run into the winner's circle. Cross tossed her head and tried to jerk the bit out of Ripley's hands. Ripley circled the filly, eyes moving over to match Brookson's. Bella Luna stood quietly confident beneath him, watching her hyperactive workmate and wondering if they would again take up the brewing rivalry. The pair could meet up sometime in a future race, but not this year as long as there were plenty other races to separate them.
A mile and a quarter gallop with a four furlong workout. Brooks smiled and patted his filly. Bella Luna was primed for a big effort in the workout, hoping to catch Cross when she was tired at the end. No problem for us. Ripley stuck her tongue out, rolled her eyes and pulled the filly around to run toward the track. Cross instantly took off, rearing up at first and pushing off her hind legs. She bounded forward instantly causing wind to yank through Ripley's long red-brown tresses. Her cat green eyes flickered in excitement. There was nothing like Cross when she first got going. The filly just knew how to break perfectly. Brooks let Bella Luna out more slowly, though when her partner took off she'd become quite defiant. Lulu tossed her head and flicked her ears, fighting the control of her rider.
The slim filly leaped into gear, pushing forward, eyes bright and wide as saucers. Bella Luna almost gritted her teeth in anger when Cross maintained a perfectly cut length advantage. The black filly's ears were pinned back to listen to Bella Luna, practically goading her workmate to come and catch her. Brooks finally managed to get Bella Luna settled into her comfortable floating stride. The worst part of this was the fact that when Bella Luna backed off, Cross did as well. The black filly was putty in Ripley's hands. She slowed to a nice easy canter, allowing Bella Luna to run up and join her. The black and silver filly were quite a picture running effortlessly across the emerald green grass. They matched in body and stride. The only difference was what was going on in the brain. Bella Luna was calculating and confident, willing to listen to Brooks' every command. Cross was wild and willing, just barely relenting to Ripley's soft hands and control. The black gritted her teeth around the bit and threatened to break forward into a faster pace. However, a soft touch had the filly quiet again, eyes blazing and ready to put it on.
Brooks shook his head. He should have guessed that Cross would not be such an easy mark. The filly was difficult through and through. Though at least this time, Cross' contrariness would work in his favor. He wanted Bella Luna in tip top shape. Cross was the perfect way to get her there. Bella Luna needed to have a partner in order to keep herself fit and filled with adrenaline. A dog-fighter like Cross was perfect for her. The fillies roared as one up and over hills, ears pinned to their heads, reaching for their largest and best stride. The crown of the hill passed and suddenly they were forced to shorten up, slide down on their rear ends and keep balance. The riders were quiet all through this. Letting them gather themselves and figure out the puzzle that was the hills. This kind of preparation would allow for them to be nimble during the running of the race. This would definitely benefit them in the long run.
The mile and a quarter flew by faster than expected. Both fillies were covered in sweat, eyes glimmering in excitement. They wanted to run, run, run. They wanted to create a hurricane from the force of the running. Cross My Heart and Bella Luna zipped up the last hill, Ripley allowing the gallop to extend into a run and from a run into racing speed. The moment they hit the bottom, Ripley lurched forward and Cross rebroke, slinging her body forward energetically. She was a little bulldog fighting for the win. A pure dog-fighter. Bella Luna was not caught quite as off guard this time and settled into track second a half-length off her stable mate. The pair settled into a sprint speed that absolutely scorched the times they'd previously created. Neither runner was willing to give the other a breather. Any horse but Cross would torch herself running these kinds of fractions, but the filly was just too brilliantly fast. Bella Luna kept up, extending her stride in order to not use so much energy. Cross spurted away, testing her workmate, black tail flinging out behind her. She squealed in annoyance when Bella Luna remained latched at her hip. As if saying, "Are you kidding me?"
Lulu was a chess piece in his hands. Waiting to make that move at the perfect moment. She lowered her head level to her shoulders, giving Brooks' the perfect vantage point. They strode up the hill again, fillies stride for stride. The workout was doing exactly what it should: egging the competitive fires on while giving the filly's the perfect workout. Neither was tiring as they slowed just a bit to head down the gentle hill. The moment they reached bottom, they took off again. This was it. Witch Creek's perfect homestretch. Cross and Lulu rocketed forward, knowing this place very well from all of their training. Cross' eyes rimmed red with fury when Lulu threatened to put a nose in front. She put on a burst of speed, digging deep and gritting her teeth, fighting to win this workout with all her might. Bella Luna, not so quick to give up any longer, matched her this time. She flicked her ears back, found some untapped energy and bolted forward, sweeping beneath the makeshift wire to win by a nose.
Cross pulled herself up temperamentally, eyes blazing, nearly knowing Ripley's head with her own. She was furious. Her eyes were on fire, her mane and tail whipped about in rage. She wanted to win. Cross My Heart reared up, testing Ripley's abilities to keep her going forward. Brooks looked back and saw the show the black filly was putting on, fighting for control. She was a little devil. When Ripley pushed the filly to the ground, Cross bolted and careened right on by Bella Luna, a midnight tornado of rage. It was only after Ripley allowed this brief loss of control, that Cross finally allowed herself to come to a halt, not the least bit quietly either. She swung her temperamental butt in Lulu's direction. Lulu merely flicked her silver-white tail in annoyance and disgust. Brooks could practically feel his filly rolling her eyes in disgust. Sore loser. Ripley crooned quietly to her mount, talking her down from her fit-full rage. What a difference from the nervous filly in the stall. Both fillies were fighters and both were gunning for the win. Brooks nodded in satisfaction to Ripley, too lost in his thoughts to do much else. Witch Creek was out to pigeon hole both divisions, male and female. He was more than satisfied with these turn of events.
Ripley glared pointedly down the stall row. Cross lowered her head and sniffed the shavings, letting out a sigh of happiness. If Brooks saw the filly this way, there would be no doubt that Cross was possibly a better purchase than even Red Herring had been. The auburn haired woman ran her fingers over the filly's white diamond, grinning into her softly haunted eyes. Cross had come to physical perfection so nicely in the last few weeks. Racing and constant workouts had turned her into a dainty machine built for running. Quite frankly, Cross reminded Ripley of the little Arabian horses running across the Saudi Arabian desert. She had the looks of a horse that could go long, but why mess with something that was already perfect at short distances. Ripley ran her hands over the filly's dappled out haunches, crooning to ease the tension lines above her dark eyes. Cross was something. A rising star for the Witch Creek barn. That much Ripley was certain. Cross cocked a hoof and twitched her tail. Ripley looked up and out of the entrance to the stall. Cross whinnied nervously and the peace was lost.
Brooks' shadow passed over the opposite side of the stalls as he reached for Bella Luna. The silver-gray filly nickered happily when she saw him. He heard the nervous pacing of Cross and ignored it. She was Ripley's filly through and through. Ripley's filly more than Witch Creek's filly. Bella Luna on the other hand was Witch Creek's filly. The two year old juvenile was running among the top of the racing elites. Her last race in the Magic Millions Fillies Turf had pretty much solidified her as a threat to watch later on both this season and next. She'd run well against Ventura and Nightshade and was now on the hunt for a win of her own. For a filly with only one win to her name, Bella Luna was packing quite a punch in her recent races. She hadn't run out of the top three since February. Her next start would come April Week Four in the April Juvenile Face Off. Ode to Glory from Stride of Perfection Stables was a mid-packer and Bella Luna would have a nice jump over that horse being a stalker herself. However, Ode to Glory wasn't the only starter, Blue Me Away from Silver Stride Stables was also entered. The colt was possibly the best two year old on the turf. With four wins coming in the top races for Juvenile Turfers. Blue Me Away was a front runner and Bella Luna would be in perfect position for stalking him. It wouldn't be an easy race, but recently with the way Lulu was training, she was gunning for her second win of the season. They would be a factor in the later races, it was just a matter of getting there.
Brooks was so content with his mounts these days. Frozen Motion would be going in the Kentucky Open against Infinite Warcry for the Turf Triple Crown. He was worried about that start, but Freeze was training just as nicely as Bella Luna. Red Herring had made a splash in the Juvenile Dirt divisions. Brooks stroked the silver-white filly, going over her legs and looking into her eyes and ears. Bella Luna was his top priority. Today's workout was a top priority as well. He patted Lulu's neck and met Ripley in the tack room. He swung her hand in a circle, picking her up by her armpits. Hey pretty lady. Ripley snorted and obliged him a soft kiss. Hi. Quit scaring my filly. Brooks rolled his eyes and put the woman down. Here we go again. If I can't come in the barn to get my own horse ready, than Cross should move. Ripley glared at him as she snagged Cross' bridle. Get over it. Try to make an attempt to befriend her at least. You'll realize she isn't out to get your goat. Ripley swung angrily out of the tack room and marched into Cross' stall. Brooks heard her quietly click it shut, such a contrast to the woman who most likely would have slammed the door had it not been the door to the racing barn.
She was so easy to set off these days. Brooks walked himself out of the tack room and walked into Bella Luna's stall. The filly eyed him with nervously curious eyes. He rubbed his hands over her sleek body and all was right with the world. Bella Luna sighed and nearly fell asleep at the wheel. Cross took a while to calm down in contrast, body lightly sweating up. As soon as Ripley settled into the routine of grooming, however, she fell just as quiet and peaceful as Bella Luna. If only he could see what they had. Then he would realize that Cross was just as much Witch Creeks' has she was Ripley's.
...
Cross danced excitedly as they set hoof on the turf at the start of the rolling track. She was keyed up and extremely happy. Ripley stroked her neck in an effort to calm her, but Cross would have none of it. She tossed her head and danced sideways, letting out a wild whinny. She loved to run. Loved to have some sense of achievement beneath her belt. Her next start would not come until May Week One in the I'm Special Stakes. Ripley was going to have her ready to roll off of long gallops and light drills. This workout would only help her achieve that goal again and run into the winner's circle. Cross tossed her head and tried to jerk the bit out of Ripley's hands. Ripley circled the filly, eyes moving over to match Brookson's. Bella Luna stood quietly confident beneath him, watching her hyperactive workmate and wondering if they would again take up the brewing rivalry. The pair could meet up sometime in a future race, but not this year as long as there were plenty other races to separate them.
A mile and a quarter gallop with a four furlong workout. Brooks smiled and patted his filly. Bella Luna was primed for a big effort in the workout, hoping to catch Cross when she was tired at the end. No problem for us. Ripley stuck her tongue out, rolled her eyes and pulled the filly around to run toward the track. Cross instantly took off, rearing up at first and pushing off her hind legs. She bounded forward instantly causing wind to yank through Ripley's long red-brown tresses. Her cat green eyes flickered in excitement. There was nothing like Cross when she first got going. The filly just knew how to break perfectly. Brooks let Bella Luna out more slowly, though when her partner took off she'd become quite defiant. Lulu tossed her head and flicked her ears, fighting the control of her rider.
The slim filly leaped into gear, pushing forward, eyes bright and wide as saucers. Bella Luna almost gritted her teeth in anger when Cross maintained a perfectly cut length advantage. The black filly's ears were pinned back to listen to Bella Luna, practically goading her workmate to come and catch her. Brooks finally managed to get Bella Luna settled into her comfortable floating stride. The worst part of this was the fact that when Bella Luna backed off, Cross did as well. The black filly was putty in Ripley's hands. She slowed to a nice easy canter, allowing Bella Luna to run up and join her. The black and silver filly were quite a picture running effortlessly across the emerald green grass. They matched in body and stride. The only difference was what was going on in the brain. Bella Luna was calculating and confident, willing to listen to Brooks' every command. Cross was wild and willing, just barely relenting to Ripley's soft hands and control. The black gritted her teeth around the bit and threatened to break forward into a faster pace. However, a soft touch had the filly quiet again, eyes blazing and ready to put it on.
Brooks shook his head. He should have guessed that Cross would not be such an easy mark. The filly was difficult through and through. Though at least this time, Cross' contrariness would work in his favor. He wanted Bella Luna in tip top shape. Cross was the perfect way to get her there. Bella Luna needed to have a partner in order to keep herself fit and filled with adrenaline. A dog-fighter like Cross was perfect for her. The fillies roared as one up and over hills, ears pinned to their heads, reaching for their largest and best stride. The crown of the hill passed and suddenly they were forced to shorten up, slide down on their rear ends and keep balance. The riders were quiet all through this. Letting them gather themselves and figure out the puzzle that was the hills. This kind of preparation would allow for them to be nimble during the running of the race. This would definitely benefit them in the long run.
The mile and a quarter flew by faster than expected. Both fillies were covered in sweat, eyes glimmering in excitement. They wanted to run, run, run. They wanted to create a hurricane from the force of the running. Cross My Heart and Bella Luna zipped up the last hill, Ripley allowing the gallop to extend into a run and from a run into racing speed. The moment they hit the bottom, Ripley lurched forward and Cross rebroke, slinging her body forward energetically. She was a little bulldog fighting for the win. A pure dog-fighter. Bella Luna was not caught quite as off guard this time and settled into track second a half-length off her stable mate. The pair settled into a sprint speed that absolutely scorched the times they'd previously created. Neither runner was willing to give the other a breather. Any horse but Cross would torch herself running these kinds of fractions, but the filly was just too brilliantly fast. Bella Luna kept up, extending her stride in order to not use so much energy. Cross spurted away, testing her workmate, black tail flinging out behind her. She squealed in annoyance when Bella Luna remained latched at her hip. As if saying, "Are you kidding me?"
Lulu was a chess piece in his hands. Waiting to make that move at the perfect moment. She lowered her head level to her shoulders, giving Brooks' the perfect vantage point. They strode up the hill again, fillies stride for stride. The workout was doing exactly what it should: egging the competitive fires on while giving the filly's the perfect workout. Neither was tiring as they slowed just a bit to head down the gentle hill. The moment they reached bottom, they took off again. This was it. Witch Creek's perfect homestretch. Cross and Lulu rocketed forward, knowing this place very well from all of their training. Cross' eyes rimmed red with fury when Lulu threatened to put a nose in front. She put on a burst of speed, digging deep and gritting her teeth, fighting to win this workout with all her might. Bella Luna, not so quick to give up any longer, matched her this time. She flicked her ears back, found some untapped energy and bolted forward, sweeping beneath the makeshift wire to win by a nose.
Cross pulled herself up temperamentally, eyes blazing, nearly knowing Ripley's head with her own. She was furious. Her eyes were on fire, her mane and tail whipped about in rage. She wanted to win. Cross My Heart reared up, testing Ripley's abilities to keep her going forward. Brooks looked back and saw the show the black filly was putting on, fighting for control. She was a little devil. When Ripley pushed the filly to the ground, Cross bolted and careened right on by Bella Luna, a midnight tornado of rage. It was only after Ripley allowed this brief loss of control, that Cross finally allowed herself to come to a halt, not the least bit quietly either. She swung her temperamental butt in Lulu's direction. Lulu merely flicked her silver-white tail in annoyance and disgust. Brooks could practically feel his filly rolling her eyes in disgust. Sore loser. Ripley crooned quietly to her mount, talking her down from her fit-full rage. What a difference from the nervous filly in the stall. Both fillies were fighters and both were gunning for the win. Brooks nodded in satisfaction to Ripley, too lost in his thoughts to do much else. Witch Creek was out to pigeon hole both divisions, male and female. He was more than satisfied with these turn of events.