August Week Three Workouts: Scroll
Screaming Mimi& Cross My Heart. Ashes to Ashes& Red Herring.
my screaming heart
Courtesy of Event of the Year Photos
This should be an interesting workout, Marsh, Maggie called from atop her cobalt beast. Screaming Mimi danced eagerly beneath her. The well-muscled mare had not done any race track running in since July Week Four. Mims loved the track almost as much as she loved torturing the staff at Witch Creek. The fiery lass had been on the muscle in every gallop this week and every person on the jock team had been on her at least once. No one wanted to deal with her bone crunching runs more than they had to. Maggie was only glad the the Crescential mare wasn't so hard on the rider in the races, since she was riding in all of them. She was on her toes and analyzing Cross like a predator to her prey.
Where Mims was nearly 17 hands, Cross was a mere 15.3 hands. She was dwarfed by the monster mare. However, Cross was on a roll. The filly had won two top races in her last three starts. The Sorrento Stakes at The Wire and the Azalea Cup Fillies at Green Horse Fields. She was spotless in her body and mind. And she was finally beginning to garner attention. The black filly from the kill auction was making a name for herself on the racetrack among the elite two year olds of Year Twelve. In eight starts, Cross had won five and finished second three times. All three of those times had been by a nose or less. The filly was three noses away from perfection. A true dogfighter with remarkable speed, ability and heart. More surprising was that each of her efforts was all 110% of her and she never got tired, never failed to fire in a race or a workout. Ripley had to admit Cross was under-appreciated for all she had done so far. It wouldn't last for long though if she continued to run the way she did.
Cross' next race would be August Week Four in the Best Pal Stakes and Mims' would be August Week Three in the Enigma Stakes. Mims had dropped three races straight, two of which were to the Mare on Fire, Alluring Assault. And another to top turf sprinter Lynara's Kingdom. They weren't bad losses and she certainly wasn't losing her fire and confidence. However, Ripley wanted a barn burner, figuratively of course, for this next workout. And Cross would give it to her. Cross stuck it to every horse she ran with, every time.
Maggie was excited for this workout. She loved riding Screaming Mimi full out. The Black Widow in full flight was a sight to see. She ran with a power nearly unmatched. In time she would catch up with all of the horses. And with Ripley attempting to sell off Limited Edition, who knew if Mims would stay in training for a little longer into Year Thirteen. Maggie ran her fingers through the temperamental mare's mane. She liked Mims more and more. Her spirit was changing the entire stock at Witch Creek for the good. She looked to be the best turf horse for this season for Witch Creek, but she had some catching up to do behind Frozen Motion.
The women set the fillies out for a swift jog. Cross taking two strides for Mims' every one. The filly with the white mark on her forehead and cross on her belly made a statement beside the giant. Something that was so hard to do. Mims was snorting intimidatingly from Cross' right. The black filly wasn't impressed in the least. Of all the two year olds at Witch Creek, Ripley was positive Cross had the most guts. She wasn't afraid of older horses at all. The shrimp just knew how to full out run. Ripley leaned close to her neck, grinning as the filly broke into a short strided, eager canter. She was quick this one. They would be running on the dirt track against Mims. The dirt track provided better traction for speed workouts. Cross knew it as well.
The blonde woman was positive Mims was going to have a tougher time than she thought against the unwieldy two year old. Maggie shook the reins, was rewarded with pinned ears, in order to wake Screaming Mimi up. It was one thing to not meet fire with fire because you didn't possess it. But Mims did and she wasn't going to fall asleep at the wheel anytime soon. Mims ground her teeth together and bowed her neck, instantly picking up a loping gallop. She didn't have to try to keep up with Cross. She was effortless in all things. Maggie let out a murmur, apologizing for waking her out of her pre-workout splendor.
Mile gallop. Five furlong blitz please. Maggie nodded, rubbing her hands together inside her brain. Oh this would be a fast one. Mims was usually a closer in her workouts and races. That style wouldn't do today. Cross would run them off their feet from the get go if they laid back. Even before Maggie could move, Cross was already off beneath Ripley. Mims' head rocketed upward in annoyance and shock. Maggie nearly fell off when the black filly lurched forward with a rock solid lunge. No it wasn't just Cross with a quick turn of foot.
Ripley reveled in Cross My Heart, just as Cross reveled in running. Their bond had increased with every day and every race. There was no one Cross preferred more than Ripley. They were a partnership in full-flight. From five-furlongs to a mile, it was likely that no one could run with her. No closer could outdo Cross. It was nearly impossible. She had to be met head and head on the lead. Few could match her lightning quickness. Ripley enjoyed every race. It reassured her that a horse could be picked up from the middle of nowhere and be made into a champion. Ripley relaxed in the saddle, hands light on the filly's mouth. Her mane waved back into Ripley's face. Cross understood galloping now. She relaxed and allowed time for Mims to get into full swing.
Screaming Mimi was understandably insulted. Maggie could feel the sparking temper racing through her veins. Mims did not like to be outdone. The mare's usually playful ears were pinned. Galloping she was not as relaxed. She was just beginning to realize that her assessment of the situation was wrong. Maggie grinned, nearly wanting to exclaim "I told you so!" Her large stride allowed her to catch up to a half-length behind Cross. Her large form cruised over the ground, shoulder muscles blooming beneath her glistening black hide. Her gallop stride was fantastic. She was a hulking mare, but it was so perfectly timed. So beautiful. Maggie made sure to keep her hands ever moving. The mare could not risk falling asleep.
With every furlong the speed increased. The workout was definitely going to be a barn burner. Cross and Ripley still remained in control, not quite flying just yet. Mims thundered just to their right, a dragon lying in wait. The track flew beneath them, dirt and dust was launched behind the horses. The horses enjoyed kicking back the sand. It made them eager for more run. Ripley and Maggie hunched alongside the cobalt necks of filly and mare. The wind whipped and crackled over their wind jackets, chilling their bones to only have their adrenaline warming them back up.
The mile cranked by and the fillies galloped quickly up the backstretch once again. Their riders' stillness told them that this would be the final loop around the track. Mims was finally awake. Maggie had nothing left to do. Ripley and Cross were moving at a solid clip, her black tail flying behind them like a vampire's cape. The auburn haired woman was ready to roll. She cast a swift glance back to Mims and Maggie. They were right on Cross' haunch at the moment. Her black filly had not betrayed any nerves with the more mature filly stalking from that position. Always solid, always ready to rock and roll no matter the competition.
At the middle of the backstretch, all hell broke loose in the form of running horses. Cross got the first jump on Mims. Mims reached out and grabbed at the two year old's tail. Cross bucked and squealed, bolting to the inner rail, stirrups sparking. Maggie rushed Mims forward and the black mare finally let go of Cross' tail in favor of speeding right on by her. Maggie glanced at Ripley, saw red anger blooming on her cheeks. Her green eyes were filled with fire at Mims as she passed. Ripley immediately pulled the former kill auction filly up and brought her to the outside. Cross was fine, just stunned. Ripley let her relax, eyeing Mims as she bolted up the track.
It was on the turn, two furlongs into the workout that Ripley finally let her go. The black filly showed a whole new dimension by allowing herself to be rated. When the let go finally came, Cross was there and pouring it on. She went from 30 miles per hour to 40. Her body swung into all out action, blistering the turf. Three lengths separated the runners and within seconds Cross had made up the missing ground and was bulleting by her older counterpart. Mims attempted to savage Cross again, but a quick slap on the neck and a tug of the reins had the dragon focusing again. She leaped forward, eyes wild with anger and set dead aim on Cross.
The fillies gunned up the homestretch, snorting and professing their dislike for one another. Mims had played a dirty trick on Cross and Cross was no longer having her friendship. Her eyes rimmed red, her body tensed. She was furious and all sorts of temperamental. The fillies whipped up the track, cantankerous with one another, their hoof beats echoing throughout the valley where the dirt track was located. Their strides lengthened, the wind became a dull roar in their riders' ears. Full flight was magnificent.
Neither horse relented and the fierce tone they were setting carried to the clockers Witch Creek had invited for a private show. The clockers held their breaths in shock and disbelief. Screaming Mimi was one of the best turfers on the circuit and Cross was keeping up with her, challenging her. It was unbelievable. The pair of black fillies swept beneath the wire, not quite reaching the record due to the easier beginning of their workout.
Ripley and Maggie shut them down rather quickly and harshly. The filly and mare were aggressive and did not want to pull up. Cross bucked and bucked, trying to dislodge Ripley. She was full of herself. Ripley circled her around and around, not wanting to circle the track another time. Especially with a wild one. She cooed and talked and eventually the sweet Cross returned. Maggie had allowed Mims to canter out a little more. Mims always settled more quickly. But it was without a doubt, both Mims and Cross were prepared for their next starts whether the competition liked it or not.
Where Mims was nearly 17 hands, Cross was a mere 15.3 hands. She was dwarfed by the monster mare. However, Cross was on a roll. The filly had won two top races in her last three starts. The Sorrento Stakes at The Wire and the Azalea Cup Fillies at Green Horse Fields. She was spotless in her body and mind. And she was finally beginning to garner attention. The black filly from the kill auction was making a name for herself on the racetrack among the elite two year olds of Year Twelve. In eight starts, Cross had won five and finished second three times. All three of those times had been by a nose or less. The filly was three noses away from perfection. A true dogfighter with remarkable speed, ability and heart. More surprising was that each of her efforts was all 110% of her and she never got tired, never failed to fire in a race or a workout. Ripley had to admit Cross was under-appreciated for all she had done so far. It wouldn't last for long though if she continued to run the way she did.
Cross' next race would be August Week Four in the Best Pal Stakes and Mims' would be August Week Three in the Enigma Stakes. Mims had dropped three races straight, two of which were to the Mare on Fire, Alluring Assault. And another to top turf sprinter Lynara's Kingdom. They weren't bad losses and she certainly wasn't losing her fire and confidence. However, Ripley wanted a barn burner, figuratively of course, for this next workout. And Cross would give it to her. Cross stuck it to every horse she ran with, every time.
Maggie was excited for this workout. She loved riding Screaming Mimi full out. The Black Widow in full flight was a sight to see. She ran with a power nearly unmatched. In time she would catch up with all of the horses. And with Ripley attempting to sell off Limited Edition, who knew if Mims would stay in training for a little longer into Year Thirteen. Maggie ran her fingers through the temperamental mare's mane. She liked Mims more and more. Her spirit was changing the entire stock at Witch Creek for the good. She looked to be the best turf horse for this season for Witch Creek, but she had some catching up to do behind Frozen Motion.
The women set the fillies out for a swift jog. Cross taking two strides for Mims' every one. The filly with the white mark on her forehead and cross on her belly made a statement beside the giant. Something that was so hard to do. Mims was snorting intimidatingly from Cross' right. The black filly wasn't impressed in the least. Of all the two year olds at Witch Creek, Ripley was positive Cross had the most guts. She wasn't afraid of older horses at all. The shrimp just knew how to full out run. Ripley leaned close to her neck, grinning as the filly broke into a short strided, eager canter. She was quick this one. They would be running on the dirt track against Mims. The dirt track provided better traction for speed workouts. Cross knew it as well.
The blonde woman was positive Mims was going to have a tougher time than she thought against the unwieldy two year old. Maggie shook the reins, was rewarded with pinned ears, in order to wake Screaming Mimi up. It was one thing to not meet fire with fire because you didn't possess it. But Mims did and she wasn't going to fall asleep at the wheel anytime soon. Mims ground her teeth together and bowed her neck, instantly picking up a loping gallop. She didn't have to try to keep up with Cross. She was effortless in all things. Maggie let out a murmur, apologizing for waking her out of her pre-workout splendor.
Mile gallop. Five furlong blitz please. Maggie nodded, rubbing her hands together inside her brain. Oh this would be a fast one. Mims was usually a closer in her workouts and races. That style wouldn't do today. Cross would run them off their feet from the get go if they laid back. Even before Maggie could move, Cross was already off beneath Ripley. Mims' head rocketed upward in annoyance and shock. Maggie nearly fell off when the black filly lurched forward with a rock solid lunge. No it wasn't just Cross with a quick turn of foot.
Ripley reveled in Cross My Heart, just as Cross reveled in running. Their bond had increased with every day and every race. There was no one Cross preferred more than Ripley. They were a partnership in full-flight. From five-furlongs to a mile, it was likely that no one could run with her. No closer could outdo Cross. It was nearly impossible. She had to be met head and head on the lead. Few could match her lightning quickness. Ripley enjoyed every race. It reassured her that a horse could be picked up from the middle of nowhere and be made into a champion. Ripley relaxed in the saddle, hands light on the filly's mouth. Her mane waved back into Ripley's face. Cross understood galloping now. She relaxed and allowed time for Mims to get into full swing.
Screaming Mimi was understandably insulted. Maggie could feel the sparking temper racing through her veins. Mims did not like to be outdone. The mare's usually playful ears were pinned. Galloping she was not as relaxed. She was just beginning to realize that her assessment of the situation was wrong. Maggie grinned, nearly wanting to exclaim "I told you so!" Her large stride allowed her to catch up to a half-length behind Cross. Her large form cruised over the ground, shoulder muscles blooming beneath her glistening black hide. Her gallop stride was fantastic. She was a hulking mare, but it was so perfectly timed. So beautiful. Maggie made sure to keep her hands ever moving. The mare could not risk falling asleep.
With every furlong the speed increased. The workout was definitely going to be a barn burner. Cross and Ripley still remained in control, not quite flying just yet. Mims thundered just to their right, a dragon lying in wait. The track flew beneath them, dirt and dust was launched behind the horses. The horses enjoyed kicking back the sand. It made them eager for more run. Ripley and Maggie hunched alongside the cobalt necks of filly and mare. The wind whipped and crackled over their wind jackets, chilling their bones to only have their adrenaline warming them back up.
The mile cranked by and the fillies galloped quickly up the backstretch once again. Their riders' stillness told them that this would be the final loop around the track. Mims was finally awake. Maggie had nothing left to do. Ripley and Cross were moving at a solid clip, her black tail flying behind them like a vampire's cape. The auburn haired woman was ready to roll. She cast a swift glance back to Mims and Maggie. They were right on Cross' haunch at the moment. Her black filly had not betrayed any nerves with the more mature filly stalking from that position. Always solid, always ready to rock and roll no matter the competition.
At the middle of the backstretch, all hell broke loose in the form of running horses. Cross got the first jump on Mims. Mims reached out and grabbed at the two year old's tail. Cross bucked and squealed, bolting to the inner rail, stirrups sparking. Maggie rushed Mims forward and the black mare finally let go of Cross' tail in favor of speeding right on by her. Maggie glanced at Ripley, saw red anger blooming on her cheeks. Her green eyes were filled with fire at Mims as she passed. Ripley immediately pulled the former kill auction filly up and brought her to the outside. Cross was fine, just stunned. Ripley let her relax, eyeing Mims as she bolted up the track.
It was on the turn, two furlongs into the workout that Ripley finally let her go. The black filly showed a whole new dimension by allowing herself to be rated. When the let go finally came, Cross was there and pouring it on. She went from 30 miles per hour to 40. Her body swung into all out action, blistering the turf. Three lengths separated the runners and within seconds Cross had made up the missing ground and was bulleting by her older counterpart. Mims attempted to savage Cross again, but a quick slap on the neck and a tug of the reins had the dragon focusing again. She leaped forward, eyes wild with anger and set dead aim on Cross.
The fillies gunned up the homestretch, snorting and professing their dislike for one another. Mims had played a dirty trick on Cross and Cross was no longer having her friendship. Her eyes rimmed red, her body tensed. She was furious and all sorts of temperamental. The fillies whipped up the track, cantankerous with one another, their hoof beats echoing throughout the valley where the dirt track was located. Their strides lengthened, the wind became a dull roar in their riders' ears. Full flight was magnificent.
Neither horse relented and the fierce tone they were setting carried to the clockers Witch Creek had invited for a private show. The clockers held their breaths in shock and disbelief. Screaming Mimi was one of the best turfers on the circuit and Cross was keeping up with her, challenging her. It was unbelievable. The pair of black fillies swept beneath the wire, not quite reaching the record due to the easier beginning of their workout.
Ripley and Maggie shut them down rather quickly and harshly. The filly and mare were aggressive and did not want to pull up. Cross bucked and bucked, trying to dislodge Ripley. She was full of herself. Ripley circled her around and around, not wanting to circle the track another time. Especially with a wild one. She cooed and talked and eventually the sweet Cross returned. Maggie had allowed Mims to canter out a little more. Mims always settled more quickly. But it was without a doubt, both Mims and Cross were prepared for their next starts whether the competition liked it or not.
ashes burning red
Courtesy of Event of the Year Photos.
This was likely the last workout for Ashes to Ashes on Witch Creek soil. The powerful bay Crooked Fire colt was going back to Akita Rose Stables soon. Brooks wasn't upset the way he'd thought he would be when he had to say goodbye to his newest partner in crime. But he kind of was and he understood why the parting had to happen. Ashes was getting bored at Witch Creek. He didn't want to participate in the easy going gallops anymore. He wanted more fire and he was creating havoc. Just the other day he'd let all of the horses out of the racing barn. Luckily, Witch Creek was fenced in, but they'd still had to track down 20 horses across a vast amount of territory. Ashes would go to a great home in Akita Rose Stables, where he'd lived when he hadn't been living at Witch Creek. Witch Creek would still get a few of his foals and someday Brooks would be riding them. Just like old times.
Justin was excited to be sitting on Red Herring. While Brooks said his last goodbye to his training partner, Justin familiarized himself with a mainstayer of Witch Creek Stables. The two year old was quite different from Dazzling Dame. He never sat still where as Dame had this stealthy stillness to her. Red bounced around, kicked, bolted, bucked. He was certainly keeping Justin on his toes. Ripley was grinning at him when she rode by on a galloping Mastermind. The Witch Creek track was busy today. Two other horses were charging up the backstretch, one after the other. Justin knew from here and from being in the barn earlier, the horses were Wish Upon A Star and Winning Touch. All of the horses were fired up today. Justin stuck his tongue out after his boss, just as Red squealed and ripped another cow kick.
Brooks grinned at Justin. He's a fiery guy, isn't he? Justin guided Red Herring into a crab-walk, the crab part not on purpose. Oh, he's something alright. Brooks laughed, stroked Ashe's proud bay neck. He's ready to go. So let's go. Brooks asked Ashes to pick up a jog, feeling the smoothness of it travel through the horse's muscles and into Brooks' body. The Crooked Fire son was extremely talented and extremely easy going. His first start back in Akita Rose Stable colours would be in the Grade Four Dirt Autumn Cup. Ashes was going to be ready to roll no matter the jockey. He didn't need a specific rider, but it helped. Lately, Ashes liked to go on auto-pilot. He'd gotten that good in his races and workouts.
Red's next start was in the Lone Star Derby. Justin wouldn't be riding him in that race. Brooks would. Brooks didn't need to ride Red everyday to be a good partner to the colt. Justin admired Red's muscle. He was a brave colt, strong, with a mind of his own. The blaze faced flaxen maned chestnut bowed his thick neck and paraded alongside his older counterpart. He snorted angrily when Ashes picked up speed to just stay ahead of him. But Red also picked up speed and soon the horses were moving at such a fast trot clip, both Brooks and Justin could have sworn they were on trotters. The man and boy smiled at each other and pulled the horses back to an easy-going jog. A swift signal had Ashes in a canter and Red bolting into a quick canter-gallop.
Red and Ashes both had natural early speed. It was high cruising and they didn't tire. The horses had layers of stamina built into them, all thanks to Ripley's maniacal training regimen. The horses pushed off of their back end, something most stables didn't bother to teach their race horses. They were loaded with talent and it was just exemplified by their workouts. And it worked because neither of the colts had finished out of the top three in Year Twelve.
Justin leaned close to Red's neck, smiling quietly when he was allowed to play with Red's unique mane. The colt was handsome and unfriendly. A dangerous and tempting combination. Justin made sure to keep his hands light on the reins. Red was temperamental and he wouldn't hesitate to dump Justin if he knew he could get away with it. Brooks kept a close eye on both horse and rider, but he was enjoying Ashes to Ashes for their final ride. The brilliant colt would be leaving come this afternoon. When they next met it would be in competition against one another. The blonde man leaned close, spoke softly to the large horse and was laughing when Ashes bolted. His need for country music was impressive to say the least.
In response to Ashes' quick burst of speed, Red spurted forward. He was a monster in full flight and Justin was shocked to discover how big the colt's stride actually was. Red Herring was not a slouch, he was an energizer bunny with a mean side. He swept up to Ashes' shoulder, poking his pink nose in front. Ashes' flattened his ears back into his mane and shouldered Red backward. Red, not daunted in the least by rough tactics, pushed back while they galloped up the backstretch. The horses were full of themselves today.
Ripley, Reese and Maggie watched from the rail aboard their speedy thoroughbreds. They were enjoying the show that the four males were putting on. How far are they going? Reese asked. Ripley grinned without taking her eyes off the horses. As far as Brooks wants to go before they break into workout speed. Maggie and Reese laughed. Ripley was a strange woman, so regimented and so freely giving at the same time. Reese's eyes softened. She'd been too hard on the head trainer as of late for always being on a schedule.
The colts cranked it on the far turn, Red zooming two paths out, giving Ashes' the clearance he needed. Red bounded forward, knees high and boldly stretching. He caught up to Ashes when they rounded into the homestretch. It was going to be a quick workout today. Neither horses nor riders wanted to be fenced in by rules and regulations. Brooks shook his hands and sent Ashes forward with a quick country tune. Red Herring responded based on the increase of speed. The bay and chestnut flew up the homestretch, manes and tails whipping in the wind they created.
Justin was ecstatic. Red Herring was a monster on four legs. The chestnut met Ashes sucker punch for sucker punch. And then he was ready for more. Justin could feel the tension in the heavily muscled body beneath him. Red Herring was waiting on Justin's signal. They'd never told him he waited for signals like that. Justin didn't move yet. Red would get his turn quite soon. For now he ran head and head with a high cruising Ashes to Ashes. Brooks knew Justin was sitting on a keg of gun powder. Red was doing fantastic in his gallops and would be looking for redemption in both this workout and the Lone Star Derby.
Brooks called upon Ashes for more speed and was rewarded by the colt rebreaking up the stretch. His stride lengthened beautifully and he increased his speed by leaps and bounds. He didn't lower his speed going into the clubhouse turn either. His stretched out frame went wide because of it, carrying out Red again. Justin waited, praying for the straightaway to come sooner. Red was beginning to pull.
There he goes! Reese called. Ripley and Maggie nodded in agreement. She was talking about the chestnut horse that suddenly was roaring forward and ahead of Ashes. Justin had barely moved a muscle. The blaze faced two year old was flying and climbing. His hooves sounded like thunder as he pulled himself by Ashes. Brooks grinned. Oh so it was going to be a horse race after all. Brooks let his reins go and suddenly Ashes surged up the rail and in two strides was meeting Red stride for stride. This was a true blue Witch Creek horse race. The colts stuck to one another at such a top speed that Ripley almost wished the clockers had stayed to catch the time of this one. They had gotten a slow time on Mims and Cross' workouts, but a spectacular visual workout. This was both spectacular visually and in time. Ripley could feel it: the speed and its intensity.
The horses raced once again into the far turn, Red's eyes were fiery. He could not rid himself of this dark bay flea running at his side. He wasn't even really trying, but Justin had put a lid on what was actually beneath Red's hide. He wanted the horse to have something left for the race this week. But Brooks hadn't put a lid on his. While Justin guided Red Herring down the center of the track, pulling up from the workout, Brooks was urging Ashes to still greater heights. This horse was going to be at his peak performance when he left for Akita Rose Stables this afternoon. They would get a horse ready to dominate the races. They just had to make sure they followed through and kept him going.
Brooks let out a wild call as Ashes streaked toward the wire, muscles bunching and flowing beneath his frame. He was all power and talent. This was the way Brooks wanted Ashes to Ashes to go out for Witch Creek. Another bright star that Ripley Marsh and Witch Creek Stable had touched at some point in his career.
Justin was excited to be sitting on Red Herring. While Brooks said his last goodbye to his training partner, Justin familiarized himself with a mainstayer of Witch Creek Stables. The two year old was quite different from Dazzling Dame. He never sat still where as Dame had this stealthy stillness to her. Red bounced around, kicked, bolted, bucked. He was certainly keeping Justin on his toes. Ripley was grinning at him when she rode by on a galloping Mastermind. The Witch Creek track was busy today. Two other horses were charging up the backstretch, one after the other. Justin knew from here and from being in the barn earlier, the horses were Wish Upon A Star and Winning Touch. All of the horses were fired up today. Justin stuck his tongue out after his boss, just as Red squealed and ripped another cow kick.
Brooks grinned at Justin. He's a fiery guy, isn't he? Justin guided Red Herring into a crab-walk, the crab part not on purpose. Oh, he's something alright. Brooks laughed, stroked Ashe's proud bay neck. He's ready to go. So let's go. Brooks asked Ashes to pick up a jog, feeling the smoothness of it travel through the horse's muscles and into Brooks' body. The Crooked Fire son was extremely talented and extremely easy going. His first start back in Akita Rose Stable colours would be in the Grade Four Dirt Autumn Cup. Ashes was going to be ready to roll no matter the jockey. He didn't need a specific rider, but it helped. Lately, Ashes liked to go on auto-pilot. He'd gotten that good in his races and workouts.
Red's next start was in the Lone Star Derby. Justin wouldn't be riding him in that race. Brooks would. Brooks didn't need to ride Red everyday to be a good partner to the colt. Justin admired Red's muscle. He was a brave colt, strong, with a mind of his own. The blaze faced flaxen maned chestnut bowed his thick neck and paraded alongside his older counterpart. He snorted angrily when Ashes picked up speed to just stay ahead of him. But Red also picked up speed and soon the horses were moving at such a fast trot clip, both Brooks and Justin could have sworn they were on trotters. The man and boy smiled at each other and pulled the horses back to an easy-going jog. A swift signal had Ashes in a canter and Red bolting into a quick canter-gallop.
Red and Ashes both had natural early speed. It was high cruising and they didn't tire. The horses had layers of stamina built into them, all thanks to Ripley's maniacal training regimen. The horses pushed off of their back end, something most stables didn't bother to teach their race horses. They were loaded with talent and it was just exemplified by their workouts. And it worked because neither of the colts had finished out of the top three in Year Twelve.
Justin leaned close to Red's neck, smiling quietly when he was allowed to play with Red's unique mane. The colt was handsome and unfriendly. A dangerous and tempting combination. Justin made sure to keep his hands light on the reins. Red was temperamental and he wouldn't hesitate to dump Justin if he knew he could get away with it. Brooks kept a close eye on both horse and rider, but he was enjoying Ashes to Ashes for their final ride. The brilliant colt would be leaving come this afternoon. When they next met it would be in competition against one another. The blonde man leaned close, spoke softly to the large horse and was laughing when Ashes bolted. His need for country music was impressive to say the least.
In response to Ashes' quick burst of speed, Red spurted forward. He was a monster in full flight and Justin was shocked to discover how big the colt's stride actually was. Red Herring was not a slouch, he was an energizer bunny with a mean side. He swept up to Ashes' shoulder, poking his pink nose in front. Ashes' flattened his ears back into his mane and shouldered Red backward. Red, not daunted in the least by rough tactics, pushed back while they galloped up the backstretch. The horses were full of themselves today.
Ripley, Reese and Maggie watched from the rail aboard their speedy thoroughbreds. They were enjoying the show that the four males were putting on. How far are they going? Reese asked. Ripley grinned without taking her eyes off the horses. As far as Brooks wants to go before they break into workout speed. Maggie and Reese laughed. Ripley was a strange woman, so regimented and so freely giving at the same time. Reese's eyes softened. She'd been too hard on the head trainer as of late for always being on a schedule.
The colts cranked it on the far turn, Red zooming two paths out, giving Ashes' the clearance he needed. Red bounded forward, knees high and boldly stretching. He caught up to Ashes when they rounded into the homestretch. It was going to be a quick workout today. Neither horses nor riders wanted to be fenced in by rules and regulations. Brooks shook his hands and sent Ashes forward with a quick country tune. Red Herring responded based on the increase of speed. The bay and chestnut flew up the homestretch, manes and tails whipping in the wind they created.
Justin was ecstatic. Red Herring was a monster on four legs. The chestnut met Ashes sucker punch for sucker punch. And then he was ready for more. Justin could feel the tension in the heavily muscled body beneath him. Red Herring was waiting on Justin's signal. They'd never told him he waited for signals like that. Justin didn't move yet. Red would get his turn quite soon. For now he ran head and head with a high cruising Ashes to Ashes. Brooks knew Justin was sitting on a keg of gun powder. Red was doing fantastic in his gallops and would be looking for redemption in both this workout and the Lone Star Derby.
Brooks called upon Ashes for more speed and was rewarded by the colt rebreaking up the stretch. His stride lengthened beautifully and he increased his speed by leaps and bounds. He didn't lower his speed going into the clubhouse turn either. His stretched out frame went wide because of it, carrying out Red again. Justin waited, praying for the straightaway to come sooner. Red was beginning to pull.
There he goes! Reese called. Ripley and Maggie nodded in agreement. She was talking about the chestnut horse that suddenly was roaring forward and ahead of Ashes. Justin had barely moved a muscle. The blaze faced two year old was flying and climbing. His hooves sounded like thunder as he pulled himself by Ashes. Brooks grinned. Oh so it was going to be a horse race after all. Brooks let his reins go and suddenly Ashes surged up the rail and in two strides was meeting Red stride for stride. This was a true blue Witch Creek horse race. The colts stuck to one another at such a top speed that Ripley almost wished the clockers had stayed to catch the time of this one. They had gotten a slow time on Mims and Cross' workouts, but a spectacular visual workout. This was both spectacular visually and in time. Ripley could feel it: the speed and its intensity.
The horses raced once again into the far turn, Red's eyes were fiery. He could not rid himself of this dark bay flea running at his side. He wasn't even really trying, but Justin had put a lid on what was actually beneath Red's hide. He wanted the horse to have something left for the race this week. But Brooks hadn't put a lid on his. While Justin guided Red Herring down the center of the track, pulling up from the workout, Brooks was urging Ashes to still greater heights. This horse was going to be at his peak performance when he left for Akita Rose Stables this afternoon. They would get a horse ready to dominate the races. They just had to make sure they followed through and kept him going.
Brooks let out a wild call as Ashes streaked toward the wire, muscles bunching and flowing beneath his frame. He was all power and talent. This was the way Brooks wanted Ashes to Ashes to go out for Witch Creek. Another bright star that Ripley Marsh and Witch Creek Stable had touched at some point in his career.