May Week Two Workouts: Scroll for Individuals
Sweeto Cheeto& Wish Upon A Star. Popcorn Blitz& Dazzling Dame. Fiery Touch& Van Guard. Ashes to Ashes& Midnight Thriller. Red Herring& Screaming Mimi.
Cross My Heart& GS Royal Crown
Cross My Heart& GS Royal Crown
celebratory return
Courtesy of Event of The Year Photos
The morning came bright and early, very bright and early at Witch Creek Stable. With twelve horses to work out today, there was no doubt that the days had to start earlier and earlier. Unfortunately for Brooks and Maggie they had the first pair of horses. Justin and Ripley were usually the morning glories. Brooks had cast a vicious look in Ripley's direction when she'd snuggled deeper into her comforter while he went out to work. She didn't have a horse until the third set against Maggie. Her horses Indian Darling and Mastermind were injured and on vacation so she wasn't working as much as Brooks and Maggie were. But she'd have her time. Brooks would make sure of it. The blonde man walked into the barn, looking around. They were packed to maximum capacity. Another smaller barn had been built from some of the horse's winnings, a ten horse barn. They would need it next year. Next year the stalls would be jammed packed in the main racing barn. No one was retiring and the three leasees wouldn't be leaving until Akita Rose Stables returned to full operation. Supernatural, the Dylan Himself filly, would stay in the smaller barn with all of the up coming yearlings, currently weanlings.
Brooks rubbed his hands over his face. The workout partners were being switched up like crazy now. They'd have an extra horse in Year Thirteen when Indian Darling returned. There would always be a bermuda horse, unless Ripley got it in her head to purchase another equine. God he hoped not. They would have a ball already with the amount of horses next year. Witch Creek Stable did not have any slouches in the barn, just one horse who needed a break and a whole bunch of flyers. That horse was Sweeto Cheeto. Brookson Wells was going to take over there. Maggie had done a stupendous job, but with her taking on so many other turf/dirt horses, she couldn't keep up with Cheeto as well. Brookson had done a very good job with Frozen Motion, recuperating him to perform at a top level and now he was going to attempt it in the latter stages of the Like A Cheetah stallion's career. It would be a challenge with all of Cheeto's low placings, but he had won two races in a row this year. He was a tough son-of-a-gun and he'd thrived off of this break. The pair that was about to be work could go on either the turf or the dirt. Brooks was sure that Wish and Cheeto would be geared over both surfaces, both had a knack for it. Brooks frowned as he patted the shooting star blaze on Cheeto's gorgeous black face. Cheeto nickered softly, eyes glimmering like embers. He knew what was coming. He hadn't been allowed out of his stall in the early morning by Justin like he usually was. He knew he was going to run today.
Brooks glanced down the stall row to where Wish stood, beautiful head poking out of the stall. The filly was an absolute stunner. Intelligent and very fancy. She had an extremely classy look and eye on her. There was a cool confidence beneath all of that mahogany hide. She'd come from Silver Stride Stables as Ripley's last big sales purchase for the next four years. The Everyday Hero filly would undoubtedly be a grand success when it came down to the races and in the breeding industry. She already had made a smooth impression going out on the track in recent galloping sessions. She just bounded along, spreading her beautiful form out. She had a honest presence and Brooks was secretly glad Ripley had managed to get the filly after all. And so was Maggie.
The blonde sprinted into the barn, scaring all twelve horses that were in the barn to the back of their stalls. Even her new filly. She was ecstatic. Maggie really got along well with the fillies. She wasn't quite certain which surface Wish would be geared for. Maybe dirt for her two year old season. Maggie'd stayed up all night pondering. They had Lulu for the turf, but the filly couldn't run long. Indian Darling was out for the year so they needed a classy dirt filly for the Breeders Cup Juvenile Fillies come end of the season. Darla would be ready to rock and roll in Year Thirteen, so maybe, just maybe Wish would switch to the turf. Maggie pondered over the filly. She was a gorgeous thing. Her white stripe stood out dramatically amid all of that dark cocoa hide. She was beautiful, a product of very nice breeding. All Maggie knew was that she wanted to get on this filly and to get started.
Maggie and Brooks led the horses out of their stalls, looking over their bodies. Sweeto Cheeto was cloaked in night colored hide and loaded with muscle. He had put on weight over his break, which technically still wasn't over. He had a few more weeks to go, but today was his wake up call. He hadn't entered retirement just yet. The plan was to continue racing next year as a five year old, but if he kept showing his interest in just hanging around the barn, Brooks knew Ripley would second guess her decision on keeping him racing. It was Brooks' job to locate that shimmering spirit that echoed in those dark stallion eyes. Maggie had brought it out in a few races, but Brooks would continue along that path, hoping for a more dramatic increase in spirit. The 16.3 hand stud stood calmly in the cross-ties eyeing his new partner in curiosity. Cheeto flicked his ears when she nickered softly in return to his gentle looks.
Maggie patted the elegant filly's neck and brought her attention back to her groom. The filly had settled in beautifully at the farm. She was a relaxed and confident creature. It would definitely help her when race day came and she had to be shipped to either Green Horse Fields or The Wire. A kind attitude was so useful for soothing the insane when chaos reined within the rest of Witch Creek's string. Maggie ran her hands down the strong legs of the Dylan Himself filly, blue eyes glimmering in excitement. Today would be the first true workout at Witch Creek. Wish had what it took to be a runner, but could she be a Witch Creek flyer? Maggie believed she could be. Wish could be their secret weapon in the future. Maggie chuckled and patted the filly's muscular shoulder. Her sale had come rather privately, closed before it reached the headlines. Wish hadn't made too big a splash in the races with only one win, a fourth and a fifth place finish to her name. Maggie was certain that she would be a slower developing filly. It would be simple to get her back in gear. The way Witch Creek trained allowed for maturation and growth throughout the year. Wish would fit them perfectly.
...
On the track, Wish Upon a Star and Sweeto Cheeto marched side by side along the outside rail. Both horses were calm and settled in, breathing the mist in, enjoying the moisture in the air as it played over their gleaming hides. Wish Upon A Star carried herself elegantly, head high and lifted, bright eyes swarming over the ground. She'd relished in the days of coming to Witch Creek. There had been no nerves, no worries that she would get it into her head to just bolt across the ground and not stop when she came to the fence. Wish was a pretty solid horse and she used her body more delicately than one would think. Maggie posted to her gently waving trot. Her dark mane swiveled about in the light wind and her tail flowed out behind her body. She was one beautifully built creature. She was meant for stardom. Maggie patted the filly's neck, smiling when she actually leaned into the soothing pressure.
Brooks was impressed by Sweeto Cheeto's character. He let the filly bounce off of him, kick away from him, do anything she very well pleased to him. He was an interesting stallion. He didn't react dangerously to her feminine traits nor did he show any interest in her at the moment. He was just being himself. Happy, go-lucky, eager to be back on the track Sweeto Cheeto. His powerful body cruised over the surface atop muscled legs, he carried himself high and tall. He was the master of his own fate at this point. If he wanted to race he had to prove it. He had to start responding in workouts and in races. His two wins this season gave Ripley, Brooks and Maggie hope that the big guy wasn't completely screwed up from his lack of winning. At the moment it seemed as if he'd forgotten about all of his recent losses and was confident in himself. Away from the track, Cheeto was happy as a clam to settle for second behind Red Herring. There really was no overwhelming dominance hierarchy on the male side. No one messed with Red though. And no one messed with Sweeto Cheeto. He was a tough horse and he wasn't afraid to show it. A chicken around water, the stallion was fierce in protecting his paddock. He actually had gotten to trumpeting over to DW Flamekissed and Positively Precious a few times, declaring that there was indeed another stallion on the property.
Maggie and Brooks rode the strong horses around the track, gradually letting them pick up easy going canters. Cheeto was naturally faster than Wish. Wish was more of a midpacker, though she could run as a pre-ceder when necessary. She took her time getting around, mainly focusing on the human on her back. Sweeto Cheeto could care less about Brooks. The stallion was getting unbelievably excited beneath his new rider. His muscles were pounding atop his bones which were thumping within his gleaming jet black hide. Mist came from his nostrils and he bowed his neck, a black dragon. For the moment Cheeto was king of the track. His ears were stuck on Wish as she came up the inside at a long rolling canter. He snorted and fought for his head, rocking onto his back legs again and again. Brooks sent an exasperated look at Maggie.
Don't look at me. He's never done that before. With me or Ripley. Brooks didn't bother calming Cheeto down. If the stallion wanted to be hyped up for his first workout back, he would let him. He would get more out of it this way than any other way. Brooks stood in the short stirrups, hands light and he leaned over Cheeto's neck. Not saying a word, but moving with the powerfully rocking animal. Ripley hadn't given any specific instructions for the workout, for neither horse. Brooks pursed his lips. It would have to be an easy one. Wish didn't run for a few more weeks. June Week One would be her first run back since her win in the Kermesse Maiden at The Wire. She would be ready to go by then, there was no doubt about it. Her first planned start would be in the Matron Stakes against other fillies and Maggie would have her tuned up by then.
Sweeto Cheeto would also be making his first start back since April in the Veritas Stakes series. He would be more than capable of handling it according to the way he was acting now. Brooks wanted to go on the horse because he was really starting to get strong and pull. He glanced at Maggie. We need something fast and furious... got anything? Maggie analyzed both of their horses and nodded. One mile gallop. Three furlong workout. A nice tune up to get them back and ready to roll. Brooks flipped her a thumbs up and then decidedly let Sweeto Cheeto roll. And boy did he roll.
The black stallion surged forward, body lurching and overwhelming Wish Upon A Star. The filly was taken aback at first, hooves stuttering in the dirt when her partner took off. Maggie found herself sitting back on a rearing horse and then suddenly found herself hurtling through wind and fire. Wish roared after her workmate, legs pumping strongly beneath her and soon she was nice and caught up with Sweeto Cheeto. The black stallion pinned his ears at her, eyes blazing and poured on some more speed. It soon became clear to Maggie and Brooks that this would be no mile long gallop. There was no patience in the animals pulsating beneath them. They wanted to run and they wanted to run now! SEVEN FURLONGS! Maggie shouted into the wind. If Brookson heard her, he gave no response. Maggie shook her head, hardly breathing. Wish had incredible high class speed. She shouldered her way up to place a nose in front of Sweeto Cheeto.
Ripley stared from the top of the hillside looking down at the track. Her green eyes were bugged out as the horses poured it on up the back stretch. Cheeto's big frame looked stunning beside Wish's elegant one. He looked all wild from her vantage point and very much in control of the situation. He looked massive and ready to run a big one when he raced in three weeks. Ripley almost was tempted to bring him back next week, but she sighed and told herself to have patience. Still she clicked on the stop-watch and waited enthusiastically for them to hit the furlong pole before the wire.
Brooks and Maggie were totally too involved in their mounts to notice the fact that the owner and head trainer stood on top of the hill. The blondes were not even moving on their horses. Sweeto Cheeto and Wish Upon A Star surged head and head, neck and neck, hooves flying in tandem over the dirt track. There was no control here, just wild fluent speed. It was so smooth. Both horses had excellent control of their large forms. They were graceful and lived up to their well-bred names. Wish gave Sweeto Cheeto a taste of his medicine, pushing forward to place her neck in front. But then Cheeto responded, pushing terrifyingly hard off of his voluptuous hind end and went storming to a one and a half length advantage. Maggie remained still, realizing Brooks wasn't even pushing his mount. Wish stretched like a greyhound, reaching her top cruising stride. She allowed Cheeto to take the lead without any regrets. She was a tough filly and a very honest filly. She knew she would not keep up with the black tornado that surged across the track. Plus, she had racing tactics.
The mahogany bay filly strode authoritatively just off to Cheeto's right, swerving a bit off of the rail when both horses ran into the final turn. Brooks was silent as a mouse atop Cheeto. The big black was in full control and it was a worthwhile ride. The comet-striped Like A Cheetah stallion was commanding a very solid, very strong presence as he made a demonstration out of this workout. Brooks glanced back and saw that Wish Upon A Star was not fading, but that she wasn't trying as hard to keep up with his mount. Maggie clearly wasn't going to push the elegant bay. Brooks wasn't even pushing a button on Cheeto. He returned his face to the front, wiggled his fingers and suddenly, Cheeto ripped into another gear, leaving Brooks and Ripley on the hill mesmerized and still with shock.
Maggie gulped from behind as the burly black stallion suddenly roared away by three lengths, tapping into some unknown talent and will that he must have gained over his two month long break. Maggie asked her filly for a gear, feeling she needed to get something more from Wish. The Everyday Hero filly instantly responded, spurting away beneath Maggie's driving forward moving hands. Her hooves pounded in the racing rhythm over the track, her body stretched out, ears pinned, head low. She was a beautifully driving horse. A beautiful charger fit for the track. She was ready to rock'n'roll. And though Cheeto had clearly been better today, Wish had no idea that she was going to be just as brilliant in the future. Maggie patted her filly's high crested neck, praising her, blue eyes locked on the train like form bounding effortlessly back into the first turn. She saw Ripley running down the hill in her peripheral vision and braced for the trainer's anger.
But Ripley was lit up with joy and excitement. There was something like pride glinting in those cat-green eyes as well. Maggie rode her sweating filly to Ripley. Ripley was speechless and she was waiting for Brooks to come back. Maggie followed the woman's direction. Cheeto was returning, neck bowed, nostrils flared. He looked more powerful than an emperor returning home from war. Ripley slapped her hands on the track rail. She couldn't wait to tell Brooks that Sweeto Cheeto had broke the training record for seven furlongs both at Witch Creek, Green Horse Fields and The Wire. She let out a breath to tell him and then she stopped herself. No. Not here. She'd let Brooks and everyone else find out how good the Like A Cheetah runner actually was in his next race.
Brooks rubbed his hands over his face. The workout partners were being switched up like crazy now. They'd have an extra horse in Year Thirteen when Indian Darling returned. There would always be a bermuda horse, unless Ripley got it in her head to purchase another equine. God he hoped not. They would have a ball already with the amount of horses next year. Witch Creek Stable did not have any slouches in the barn, just one horse who needed a break and a whole bunch of flyers. That horse was Sweeto Cheeto. Brookson Wells was going to take over there. Maggie had done a stupendous job, but with her taking on so many other turf/dirt horses, she couldn't keep up with Cheeto as well. Brookson had done a very good job with Frozen Motion, recuperating him to perform at a top level and now he was going to attempt it in the latter stages of the Like A Cheetah stallion's career. It would be a challenge with all of Cheeto's low placings, but he had won two races in a row this year. He was a tough son-of-a-gun and he'd thrived off of this break. The pair that was about to be work could go on either the turf or the dirt. Brooks was sure that Wish and Cheeto would be geared over both surfaces, both had a knack for it. Brooks frowned as he patted the shooting star blaze on Cheeto's gorgeous black face. Cheeto nickered softly, eyes glimmering like embers. He knew what was coming. He hadn't been allowed out of his stall in the early morning by Justin like he usually was. He knew he was going to run today.
Brooks glanced down the stall row to where Wish stood, beautiful head poking out of the stall. The filly was an absolute stunner. Intelligent and very fancy. She had an extremely classy look and eye on her. There was a cool confidence beneath all of that mahogany hide. She'd come from Silver Stride Stables as Ripley's last big sales purchase for the next four years. The Everyday Hero filly would undoubtedly be a grand success when it came down to the races and in the breeding industry. She already had made a smooth impression going out on the track in recent galloping sessions. She just bounded along, spreading her beautiful form out. She had a honest presence and Brooks was secretly glad Ripley had managed to get the filly after all. And so was Maggie.
The blonde sprinted into the barn, scaring all twelve horses that were in the barn to the back of their stalls. Even her new filly. She was ecstatic. Maggie really got along well with the fillies. She wasn't quite certain which surface Wish would be geared for. Maybe dirt for her two year old season. Maggie'd stayed up all night pondering. They had Lulu for the turf, but the filly couldn't run long. Indian Darling was out for the year so they needed a classy dirt filly for the Breeders Cup Juvenile Fillies come end of the season. Darla would be ready to rock and roll in Year Thirteen, so maybe, just maybe Wish would switch to the turf. Maggie pondered over the filly. She was a gorgeous thing. Her white stripe stood out dramatically amid all of that dark cocoa hide. She was beautiful, a product of very nice breeding. All Maggie knew was that she wanted to get on this filly and to get started.
Maggie and Brooks led the horses out of their stalls, looking over their bodies. Sweeto Cheeto was cloaked in night colored hide and loaded with muscle. He had put on weight over his break, which technically still wasn't over. He had a few more weeks to go, but today was his wake up call. He hadn't entered retirement just yet. The plan was to continue racing next year as a five year old, but if he kept showing his interest in just hanging around the barn, Brooks knew Ripley would second guess her decision on keeping him racing. It was Brooks' job to locate that shimmering spirit that echoed in those dark stallion eyes. Maggie had brought it out in a few races, but Brooks would continue along that path, hoping for a more dramatic increase in spirit. The 16.3 hand stud stood calmly in the cross-ties eyeing his new partner in curiosity. Cheeto flicked his ears when she nickered softly in return to his gentle looks.
Maggie patted the elegant filly's neck and brought her attention back to her groom. The filly had settled in beautifully at the farm. She was a relaxed and confident creature. It would definitely help her when race day came and she had to be shipped to either Green Horse Fields or The Wire. A kind attitude was so useful for soothing the insane when chaos reined within the rest of Witch Creek's string. Maggie ran her hands down the strong legs of the Dylan Himself filly, blue eyes glimmering in excitement. Today would be the first true workout at Witch Creek. Wish had what it took to be a runner, but could she be a Witch Creek flyer? Maggie believed she could be. Wish could be their secret weapon in the future. Maggie chuckled and patted the filly's muscular shoulder. Her sale had come rather privately, closed before it reached the headlines. Wish hadn't made too big a splash in the races with only one win, a fourth and a fifth place finish to her name. Maggie was certain that she would be a slower developing filly. It would be simple to get her back in gear. The way Witch Creek trained allowed for maturation and growth throughout the year. Wish would fit them perfectly.
...
On the track, Wish Upon a Star and Sweeto Cheeto marched side by side along the outside rail. Both horses were calm and settled in, breathing the mist in, enjoying the moisture in the air as it played over their gleaming hides. Wish Upon A Star carried herself elegantly, head high and lifted, bright eyes swarming over the ground. She'd relished in the days of coming to Witch Creek. There had been no nerves, no worries that she would get it into her head to just bolt across the ground and not stop when she came to the fence. Wish was a pretty solid horse and she used her body more delicately than one would think. Maggie posted to her gently waving trot. Her dark mane swiveled about in the light wind and her tail flowed out behind her body. She was one beautifully built creature. She was meant for stardom. Maggie patted the filly's neck, smiling when she actually leaned into the soothing pressure.
Brooks was impressed by Sweeto Cheeto's character. He let the filly bounce off of him, kick away from him, do anything she very well pleased to him. He was an interesting stallion. He didn't react dangerously to her feminine traits nor did he show any interest in her at the moment. He was just being himself. Happy, go-lucky, eager to be back on the track Sweeto Cheeto. His powerful body cruised over the surface atop muscled legs, he carried himself high and tall. He was the master of his own fate at this point. If he wanted to race he had to prove it. He had to start responding in workouts and in races. His two wins this season gave Ripley, Brooks and Maggie hope that the big guy wasn't completely screwed up from his lack of winning. At the moment it seemed as if he'd forgotten about all of his recent losses and was confident in himself. Away from the track, Cheeto was happy as a clam to settle for second behind Red Herring. There really was no overwhelming dominance hierarchy on the male side. No one messed with Red though. And no one messed with Sweeto Cheeto. He was a tough horse and he wasn't afraid to show it. A chicken around water, the stallion was fierce in protecting his paddock. He actually had gotten to trumpeting over to DW Flamekissed and Positively Precious a few times, declaring that there was indeed another stallion on the property.
Maggie and Brooks rode the strong horses around the track, gradually letting them pick up easy going canters. Cheeto was naturally faster than Wish. Wish was more of a midpacker, though she could run as a pre-ceder when necessary. She took her time getting around, mainly focusing on the human on her back. Sweeto Cheeto could care less about Brooks. The stallion was getting unbelievably excited beneath his new rider. His muscles were pounding atop his bones which were thumping within his gleaming jet black hide. Mist came from his nostrils and he bowed his neck, a black dragon. For the moment Cheeto was king of the track. His ears were stuck on Wish as she came up the inside at a long rolling canter. He snorted and fought for his head, rocking onto his back legs again and again. Brooks sent an exasperated look at Maggie.
Don't look at me. He's never done that before. With me or Ripley. Brooks didn't bother calming Cheeto down. If the stallion wanted to be hyped up for his first workout back, he would let him. He would get more out of it this way than any other way. Brooks stood in the short stirrups, hands light and he leaned over Cheeto's neck. Not saying a word, but moving with the powerfully rocking animal. Ripley hadn't given any specific instructions for the workout, for neither horse. Brooks pursed his lips. It would have to be an easy one. Wish didn't run for a few more weeks. June Week One would be her first run back since her win in the Kermesse Maiden at The Wire. She would be ready to go by then, there was no doubt about it. Her first planned start would be in the Matron Stakes against other fillies and Maggie would have her tuned up by then.
Sweeto Cheeto would also be making his first start back since April in the Veritas Stakes series. He would be more than capable of handling it according to the way he was acting now. Brooks wanted to go on the horse because he was really starting to get strong and pull. He glanced at Maggie. We need something fast and furious... got anything? Maggie analyzed both of their horses and nodded. One mile gallop. Three furlong workout. A nice tune up to get them back and ready to roll. Brooks flipped her a thumbs up and then decidedly let Sweeto Cheeto roll. And boy did he roll.
The black stallion surged forward, body lurching and overwhelming Wish Upon A Star. The filly was taken aback at first, hooves stuttering in the dirt when her partner took off. Maggie found herself sitting back on a rearing horse and then suddenly found herself hurtling through wind and fire. Wish roared after her workmate, legs pumping strongly beneath her and soon she was nice and caught up with Sweeto Cheeto. The black stallion pinned his ears at her, eyes blazing and poured on some more speed. It soon became clear to Maggie and Brooks that this would be no mile long gallop. There was no patience in the animals pulsating beneath them. They wanted to run and they wanted to run now! SEVEN FURLONGS! Maggie shouted into the wind. If Brookson heard her, he gave no response. Maggie shook her head, hardly breathing. Wish had incredible high class speed. She shouldered her way up to place a nose in front of Sweeto Cheeto.
Ripley stared from the top of the hillside looking down at the track. Her green eyes were bugged out as the horses poured it on up the back stretch. Cheeto's big frame looked stunning beside Wish's elegant one. He looked all wild from her vantage point and very much in control of the situation. He looked massive and ready to run a big one when he raced in three weeks. Ripley almost was tempted to bring him back next week, but she sighed and told herself to have patience. Still she clicked on the stop-watch and waited enthusiastically for them to hit the furlong pole before the wire.
Brooks and Maggie were totally too involved in their mounts to notice the fact that the owner and head trainer stood on top of the hill. The blondes were not even moving on their horses. Sweeto Cheeto and Wish Upon A Star surged head and head, neck and neck, hooves flying in tandem over the dirt track. There was no control here, just wild fluent speed. It was so smooth. Both horses had excellent control of their large forms. They were graceful and lived up to their well-bred names. Wish gave Sweeto Cheeto a taste of his medicine, pushing forward to place her neck in front. But then Cheeto responded, pushing terrifyingly hard off of his voluptuous hind end and went storming to a one and a half length advantage. Maggie remained still, realizing Brooks wasn't even pushing his mount. Wish stretched like a greyhound, reaching her top cruising stride. She allowed Cheeto to take the lead without any regrets. She was a tough filly and a very honest filly. She knew she would not keep up with the black tornado that surged across the track. Plus, she had racing tactics.
The mahogany bay filly strode authoritatively just off to Cheeto's right, swerving a bit off of the rail when both horses ran into the final turn. Brooks was silent as a mouse atop Cheeto. The big black was in full control and it was a worthwhile ride. The comet-striped Like A Cheetah stallion was commanding a very solid, very strong presence as he made a demonstration out of this workout. Brooks glanced back and saw that Wish Upon A Star was not fading, but that she wasn't trying as hard to keep up with his mount. Maggie clearly wasn't going to push the elegant bay. Brooks wasn't even pushing a button on Cheeto. He returned his face to the front, wiggled his fingers and suddenly, Cheeto ripped into another gear, leaving Brooks and Ripley on the hill mesmerized and still with shock.
Maggie gulped from behind as the burly black stallion suddenly roared away by three lengths, tapping into some unknown talent and will that he must have gained over his two month long break. Maggie asked her filly for a gear, feeling she needed to get something more from Wish. The Everyday Hero filly instantly responded, spurting away beneath Maggie's driving forward moving hands. Her hooves pounded in the racing rhythm over the track, her body stretched out, ears pinned, head low. She was a beautifully driving horse. A beautiful charger fit for the track. She was ready to rock'n'roll. And though Cheeto had clearly been better today, Wish had no idea that she was going to be just as brilliant in the future. Maggie patted her filly's high crested neck, praising her, blue eyes locked on the train like form bounding effortlessly back into the first turn. She saw Ripley running down the hill in her peripheral vision and braced for the trainer's anger.
But Ripley was lit up with joy and excitement. There was something like pride glinting in those cat-green eyes as well. Maggie rode her sweating filly to Ripley. Ripley was speechless and she was waiting for Brooks to come back. Maggie followed the woman's direction. Cheeto was returning, neck bowed, nostrils flared. He looked more powerful than an emperor returning home from war. Ripley slapped her hands on the track rail. She couldn't wait to tell Brooks that Sweeto Cheeto had broke the training record for seven furlongs both at Witch Creek, Green Horse Fields and The Wire. She let out a breath to tell him and then she stopped herself. No. Not here. She'd let Brooks and everyone else find out how good the Like A Cheetah runner actually was in his next race.
dazzling blitz
Courtesy of Allison L. Janezic.
Thunderstorm Stakes: Terror Smile (front runner), Popcorn Blitz (front runner)
Veritas Stakes Race One: Ode To Glory (mid-pack), Dame (Preceder)
So maybe the new horse would be a good one after all. Brookson was still peeved that Ripley had managed to bring in two more strays. They had plenty. Maggie stared at Brooks as he ranted and ranted alongside her second mount for the morning. She could see where he was peeved, but she'd been the one to tell Ripley to go after the filly. Not that she would tell Brooks. Horses had been calling Maggie's name left and right, just like they called to Ripley Marsh. Not a single horse of theirs had reached grade three yet, but they were regarded as a very strong string of horses. Everyday they only got stronger. Next year they would be quite powerful, scarily enough. Six horses waited in the wings to be worked with. Indian Darling. Supernatural. Sincerely Yours. Limited Edition. Prima Donna. The Devil's Hourglass. Oh boy, Witch Creek would definitely have their hands full for the next coming years. Especially being loaded with fillies.
Maggie leaned down and kissed her mount's thick bright chestnut neck. Her now beloved Popcorn Blitz was plenty good enough. He'd been plenty good enough to win the Boys Festival over Wannabe Hero, but he'd just needed an extra week to come back to true form. They'd skipped the Star Festival and had rerouted to the original race they had planned for him in May Week Three. Popcorn Blitz was heading to the Thunderstorm Stakes. Today's workout would be mega important. There was a snake waiting in the wings for Blitzen in this race and her name was Terror Smile. The gray filly had recently returned from injury, much sooner than planned. She was a grade four and a front runner and she had destructive speed. The third horse in the race would be The Innocent Skier, also grade four and a closer. The pace could set up for him. Popcorn Blitz would be up against it, but the big beautiful horse was ready to roll. He would get the most out of this workout today having to go up against Dazzling Dame, twin to Infnite Warcry. Blitzen would be ready to hold off all challengers. Maggie watched the dark bay filly stroll out over the turf one hundred yards ahead of them. She'd really taken to Witch Creek quite quickly, especially with the help of her exercise rider Justin Santiago.
The young boy was the only one who the filly listened to and even shown a glimmer for affection towards. He handled her nicely and she was sweet to him. Maggie watched as the filly let out a cow kick and suddenly decided to not move. Well... most of the time she was sweet on him. Justin shook his head, dark brown eyes firing up. He hated when Dame did this. She could be such a mule sometimes. But he didn't kick her like she wanted. The filly expected him to fight with her, but he didn't. It was no use. He would not be able to move a 1000 lb mare with his 100 lb body. And she knew it too. He glared at Maggie when the woman snickered at him. He now understood why Brookson only tolerated her with a brotherly affection and torment. She deserved it. Nice cow you got there Santiago. Maggie stroked her handsome Blitzen's neck. Why don't you get her moving so I can show you what a real horse runs like.
Justin stuck his tongue out at her as she nudged Blitzen into a jog. The chestnut ate up the ground willingly, happy to be out over his turf track. He'd been expecting Maggie as if he'd read the clipboard across from his stall that said he would be one of the many enjoying a workout. Popcorn Blitz flicked his ears and then shook his head, ridding himself of the nasty flies. The one thing Maggie hated most about Summer was the heat and the flies. She missed Europe for this single reason, but she was so much happier here, so much more at home. With Ripley and her horse Crow. She was developing into quite the hot jockey on the American tracks. Maggie glanced flirtatiously over her shoulder to look back at Justin. Dame had finally started moving after all. She was quite a good filly for him, a nice starting race horse. Ripley had plans to stick the boy on Prima Donna next year as a two year old so Dame would be a good teacher to him.
Justin petted his filly's neck, rubbing his hands over her mane. Dame was his. Had been ever since she'd first flipped out coming off of the trailer and especially after their workout against Frozen Motion last week. Ripley would ride the filly in her race. Justin's job was to get her ready for Ripley's ride, at least until October. He sighed. Dame wouldn't be completely his until October when he finally passed his Jockey Test and got his license. He patted his mulish filly and she flopped her ears back to take notice of him. The striped face filly picked up the pace in order to catch up to Blitzen. The Speed Demon stallion was full of energy today. The tough horse let out a squeal and a buck, attempting to take off in a bolt, but Maggie read him like a book. He squealed again, finding himself locked to a jog. Justin was glad Dame didn't pull any of that. He knew she would be good for Ripley in the Veritas Stakes Race One at The Wire next week. The dark bay was training too well and he could tell she missed racing very much. So far she was only running against a SOPS two year old by the name of Ode to Glory. The horse was a mid-pack runner and Justin knew Ripley was going to go easy with Dame on the lead. He told her she better. Dame was a good filly. She just needed a world of patience and a confident first race back.
Alright Santiago. Enough thinking back there. I can hear you all the way up here. Now what did Ripley say to do? Justin asked Dame to catch up to Blitzen and she did, quite eagerly. Justin shook his head at Maggie. She said that you should go suck your thumb. Maggie slitted her eyes at him and landed a hearty punch for a girl on his arm. Dame squealed and flashed her teeth, Blitzen flashed his back, both horses eager to protect their riders. Next time you won't have a body guard Santiago. Justin laughed so much tears came to his eyes. Maggie grinned despite herself and she patted Blitzen, rewarding his loyalty.
Ripley actually said that we're going to do a mile with a four furlong workout. Maggie nodded in approval as they reached the base of the track. Blitzen isn't going to go easy on you guys like Frozen Motion did last week. Justin snorted, raised an eyebrow and then lifted his hands, body leaning forward. The light contact and movement was just subtle enough that Dame realized what he wanted and immediately bolted into a gallop. His breath was knocked to the back of his lungs. She had so much of an impact when she first took off. He was quiet with her, perching lightly over her withers. She breathed softly, ear flicking back when Blitzen roared up on her left. Maggie shook her head at the boy. The kid had learned to ride so quick, so fast. She felt a little green eyed, but her adrenaline was up. They weren't going to let him and the younger filly get away with it.
The pair stormed over the turf hills, going at a very solid clip. Typically when Ripley wanted smaller gallops and workouts she was gearing the horses up for their next start. Dame and Blitzen both needed fast workouts to prepare them for race day. Both horses were traveling well in-hand. Popcorn Blitz especially. The big chestnut dwarfed his smaller workout partner and he thundered alongside her, body heaving and muscling over the earth. Blitzen was a hard knocking son of a gun. He didn't have much respect on the track, but he brought a speedy class. He was a very tough competitor. He ranged up, nosing the lead away from Dame. Maggie glanced over and saw that Justin had actually tapped on the breaks. Dame slowed willingly, now a half length back. A huge grin spread over his face and it made Maggie's day. Maggie returned her attention to the rolling track. Both horses were just cruising right along. There was effort in Popcorn Blitz's stride. He was the ultimate workmanlike sprinter. He loved to win and he desperately would love to continue his win streak to two wins. It would be a tough race against Terror Smile and The Innocent Skier, but he had conditioning and the sturdiest legs in the barn. Maggie crooned softly and he flicked his ears back playfully, lifting his knees in response.
Dame was such a fantastic, fantastic filly. She was long overshadowed by her twin, so overshadowed that Justin had not even known that Infinite Warcry actually had a twin. Well now he did and he believed that with conditioning, Dame would be just as good if not a little better in the turf ranks. Eventually they would have to face off with Infinite Warcry and Frozen Motion, but there was a long way to go until that point. She had to start winning and making herself a threat. Justin twitched his fingers and the filly bounded gracefully forward to match Popcorn Blitz's stride. The large chestnut flattened his ears and Dame had hers forcefully pinned on him. Justin didn't move a muscle or turn a hair when Blitz swerved into Dame. She shrieked furiously and butted him back, a tough nut. He smirked when she pushed Blitzen diagonally over the turf. Very tough indeed.
The pair thrashed at one another for the next half mile, wind whipping through their manes as they charged over the terrain, kicking clumps of earth behind them. The horses were dramatic in their run, casting vicious looks at one another, flames burning in the hoofprints left behind on the turf. They were crazy in their speed, brilliant, devastating. And they still weren't at top speed. They still had a quarter mile before they reached top speed. Justin was sitting as still as ever, letting Dame do all of the work on her own. She was moving nicely, keeping right off Popcorn Blitz, keeping level. She wasn't going in for the kill just yet. And Justin knew that was exactly how she thought of it. He stroked her shimmering black mane, reveling in her delicate power. She was something out of this world.
Blitzen was cruising right along, recognizing as Maggie did now that Dazzling Dame was not going anywhere. She was no slouch. She'd proven this to Brooks and was fighting for the right to stay with Witch Creek's string. Justin had turned her around enough to show that she did indeed have talent. Popcorn Blitz leaped nimbly up the top of the hill, powerful stride stretching and bunching to meet the odd terrain. He waited on Dazzling Dame, flicking his large, frame overwhelming the crest. Dazzling Dame flared her nostrils and pricked her ears excitedly. She let out an excited snort. Oh boy this was it. Justin leaned forward and together, Blitzen and Dame rolled right down the hill, legs sweeping forward. They were racing excellently, so controlled over the sleek surface. Maggie and Justin were careful to not move until the second they touched down on the flat portion of the turf.
The moment Blitzen found a hold on the ground, the Speed Demon stallion lurched forward, muscle hurtling like a line backer. He went from 0 to 60 in 3 big sweeping strides, nearly throwing Maggie in back of the saddle. Maggie could feel the wind tearing at her face, hot wind branding her. The stallion could sprint. He could run with the best and win. He had the ultimate physique and ultimate conditioning. He laid it all on the line, a master of his furious talent. Maggie barely moved, barely breathed. He was scary fast. One more urge from her and he would pick up another ethereal gear. So she didn't move. They'd save it for race. They'd save it for Terror Smile and The Innocent Skier.
Dame was impatient to be off, but she stayed desperately light on Justin's hands. She was so high energy, but so willing to give her head. Justin kept her close, letting Popcorn Blitz draw ahead by three giant strides. He was a glorious sucker. Vibrantly tough. Dazzling Dame conceded the lead when she realized it wasn't such a bad idea after all. She let her stride out, but stayed in control. Tight and beautiful, collected. Justin moved only once when they passed the two furlong mark and Blitzen was six lengths ahead. The sprinter understood the purpose of this workout was to key himself up as much as possible. He roared away. Justin, with a flick of his wrist, flicked Dame off cruise control and into rocket fuel. She put on such a burst of speed that Justin's head was nearly given whiplash. He curled in close to her mane, a simple bug, as she suddenly soared over the turf, eyes lighting up with competitiveness and desperate will to run her legs off. She covered the ground in quick, floating strides, a beautiful dark swan.
Maggie glanced under her arm and saw Dame right at Blitzen's hip. She'd been back a ways. Maggie was surprised and yet because Brooks had warned her that the filly had a terrific turn of foot, not. Popcorn Blitz switched gears into second, the most powerful of all, and surged forward once again, knocking Dame back as they roared into the final fourth furlong. Maggie remained still. That was the amazing thing about Witch Creek's horses. None of them particularly needed encouragement. A tap would suffice. Some needed nothing and that was Popcorn Blitz. She patted the colt's neck expecting to be home free. A buzz sounded to her left and she looked, suddenly Dame's face was beside Blitzen's shoulder. Justin was a burr in her mane, not even looking where he was going unless he was looking over her left shoulder.
Justin whispered encouragement to his gloriously fast filly. Oh Ripley would find a ton of horse beneath her in the final stages of the Veritas Stakes Race One. For sure. Dame was ready to get back to the track. Ready, not for battle, but for the joy of the final flight. Dazzling Dame raced alongside her much bigger opponent, eyes gleaming with pride and fire. She was a strong one. Blitzen flattened his ears, attempted intimidation by crowding, but Dame merely skipped sideways, putting a nose in front. Blitzen, too used to winning just off of his last emphatic victory, was not to be denied. He clicked into another gear off of a tap from Maggie and the big chestnut darted forward across the imaginary finish and up the hillside. Justin wanted to swear inwardly. The stallion had nosed his filly out. Maggie let out a loud cheer, slapping her great horse's neck. The Thunderstorm Stakes would be a very good race, a chance to break into the grade four ranks and again assert that he was not to be overlooked in the future. All that stood between them and the winner's circle was nine furlongs and two horses by the name of Terror Smile and The Innocent Skier.
Justin glared and didn't ask Dame to stop, instead asking for her best. He wanted to feel her best, to see if she was as good as he thought she was. Dazzling Dame picked up on the tense cue and she flew beyond a pulled up Blitzen, up and over the hillside, slim legs a blur beneath her racy turf body. Her speed was blinding, everything whistled by his face, his eyes. She was filled with awesome speed. It would be most evident on race day. When she had something to truly win, Dame would give it her best. Justin was sure that if Ripley, his boss, followed his specific instructions, she would get the best out of Dame. The best was good enough to be in the pantheon of greats.
Veritas Stakes Race One: Ode To Glory (mid-pack), Dame (Preceder)
So maybe the new horse would be a good one after all. Brookson was still peeved that Ripley had managed to bring in two more strays. They had plenty. Maggie stared at Brooks as he ranted and ranted alongside her second mount for the morning. She could see where he was peeved, but she'd been the one to tell Ripley to go after the filly. Not that she would tell Brooks. Horses had been calling Maggie's name left and right, just like they called to Ripley Marsh. Not a single horse of theirs had reached grade three yet, but they were regarded as a very strong string of horses. Everyday they only got stronger. Next year they would be quite powerful, scarily enough. Six horses waited in the wings to be worked with. Indian Darling. Supernatural. Sincerely Yours. Limited Edition. Prima Donna. The Devil's Hourglass. Oh boy, Witch Creek would definitely have their hands full for the next coming years. Especially being loaded with fillies.
Maggie leaned down and kissed her mount's thick bright chestnut neck. Her now beloved Popcorn Blitz was plenty good enough. He'd been plenty good enough to win the Boys Festival over Wannabe Hero, but he'd just needed an extra week to come back to true form. They'd skipped the Star Festival and had rerouted to the original race they had planned for him in May Week Three. Popcorn Blitz was heading to the Thunderstorm Stakes. Today's workout would be mega important. There was a snake waiting in the wings for Blitzen in this race and her name was Terror Smile. The gray filly had recently returned from injury, much sooner than planned. She was a grade four and a front runner and she had destructive speed. The third horse in the race would be The Innocent Skier, also grade four and a closer. The pace could set up for him. Popcorn Blitz would be up against it, but the big beautiful horse was ready to roll. He would get the most out of this workout today having to go up against Dazzling Dame, twin to Infnite Warcry. Blitzen would be ready to hold off all challengers. Maggie watched the dark bay filly stroll out over the turf one hundred yards ahead of them. She'd really taken to Witch Creek quite quickly, especially with the help of her exercise rider Justin Santiago.
The young boy was the only one who the filly listened to and even shown a glimmer for affection towards. He handled her nicely and she was sweet to him. Maggie watched as the filly let out a cow kick and suddenly decided to not move. Well... most of the time she was sweet on him. Justin shook his head, dark brown eyes firing up. He hated when Dame did this. She could be such a mule sometimes. But he didn't kick her like she wanted. The filly expected him to fight with her, but he didn't. It was no use. He would not be able to move a 1000 lb mare with his 100 lb body. And she knew it too. He glared at Maggie when the woman snickered at him. He now understood why Brookson only tolerated her with a brotherly affection and torment. She deserved it. Nice cow you got there Santiago. Maggie stroked her handsome Blitzen's neck. Why don't you get her moving so I can show you what a real horse runs like.
Justin stuck his tongue out at her as she nudged Blitzen into a jog. The chestnut ate up the ground willingly, happy to be out over his turf track. He'd been expecting Maggie as if he'd read the clipboard across from his stall that said he would be one of the many enjoying a workout. Popcorn Blitz flicked his ears and then shook his head, ridding himself of the nasty flies. The one thing Maggie hated most about Summer was the heat and the flies. She missed Europe for this single reason, but she was so much happier here, so much more at home. With Ripley and her horse Crow. She was developing into quite the hot jockey on the American tracks. Maggie glanced flirtatiously over her shoulder to look back at Justin. Dame had finally started moving after all. She was quite a good filly for him, a nice starting race horse. Ripley had plans to stick the boy on Prima Donna next year as a two year old so Dame would be a good teacher to him.
Justin petted his filly's neck, rubbing his hands over her mane. Dame was his. Had been ever since she'd first flipped out coming off of the trailer and especially after their workout against Frozen Motion last week. Ripley would ride the filly in her race. Justin's job was to get her ready for Ripley's ride, at least until October. He sighed. Dame wouldn't be completely his until October when he finally passed his Jockey Test and got his license. He patted his mulish filly and she flopped her ears back to take notice of him. The striped face filly picked up the pace in order to catch up to Blitzen. The Speed Demon stallion was full of energy today. The tough horse let out a squeal and a buck, attempting to take off in a bolt, but Maggie read him like a book. He squealed again, finding himself locked to a jog. Justin was glad Dame didn't pull any of that. He knew she would be good for Ripley in the Veritas Stakes Race One at The Wire next week. The dark bay was training too well and he could tell she missed racing very much. So far she was only running against a SOPS two year old by the name of Ode to Glory. The horse was a mid-pack runner and Justin knew Ripley was going to go easy with Dame on the lead. He told her she better. Dame was a good filly. She just needed a world of patience and a confident first race back.
Alright Santiago. Enough thinking back there. I can hear you all the way up here. Now what did Ripley say to do? Justin asked Dame to catch up to Blitzen and she did, quite eagerly. Justin shook his head at Maggie. She said that you should go suck your thumb. Maggie slitted her eyes at him and landed a hearty punch for a girl on his arm. Dame squealed and flashed her teeth, Blitzen flashed his back, both horses eager to protect their riders. Next time you won't have a body guard Santiago. Justin laughed so much tears came to his eyes. Maggie grinned despite herself and she patted Blitzen, rewarding his loyalty.
Ripley actually said that we're going to do a mile with a four furlong workout. Maggie nodded in approval as they reached the base of the track. Blitzen isn't going to go easy on you guys like Frozen Motion did last week. Justin snorted, raised an eyebrow and then lifted his hands, body leaning forward. The light contact and movement was just subtle enough that Dame realized what he wanted and immediately bolted into a gallop. His breath was knocked to the back of his lungs. She had so much of an impact when she first took off. He was quiet with her, perching lightly over her withers. She breathed softly, ear flicking back when Blitzen roared up on her left. Maggie shook her head at the boy. The kid had learned to ride so quick, so fast. She felt a little green eyed, but her adrenaline was up. They weren't going to let him and the younger filly get away with it.
The pair stormed over the turf hills, going at a very solid clip. Typically when Ripley wanted smaller gallops and workouts she was gearing the horses up for their next start. Dame and Blitzen both needed fast workouts to prepare them for race day. Both horses were traveling well in-hand. Popcorn Blitz especially. The big chestnut dwarfed his smaller workout partner and he thundered alongside her, body heaving and muscling over the earth. Blitzen was a hard knocking son of a gun. He didn't have much respect on the track, but he brought a speedy class. He was a very tough competitor. He ranged up, nosing the lead away from Dame. Maggie glanced over and saw that Justin had actually tapped on the breaks. Dame slowed willingly, now a half length back. A huge grin spread over his face and it made Maggie's day. Maggie returned her attention to the rolling track. Both horses were just cruising right along. There was effort in Popcorn Blitz's stride. He was the ultimate workmanlike sprinter. He loved to win and he desperately would love to continue his win streak to two wins. It would be a tough race against Terror Smile and The Innocent Skier, but he had conditioning and the sturdiest legs in the barn. Maggie crooned softly and he flicked his ears back playfully, lifting his knees in response.
Dame was such a fantastic, fantastic filly. She was long overshadowed by her twin, so overshadowed that Justin had not even known that Infinite Warcry actually had a twin. Well now he did and he believed that with conditioning, Dame would be just as good if not a little better in the turf ranks. Eventually they would have to face off with Infinite Warcry and Frozen Motion, but there was a long way to go until that point. She had to start winning and making herself a threat. Justin twitched his fingers and the filly bounded gracefully forward to match Popcorn Blitz's stride. The large chestnut flattened his ears and Dame had hers forcefully pinned on him. Justin didn't move a muscle or turn a hair when Blitz swerved into Dame. She shrieked furiously and butted him back, a tough nut. He smirked when she pushed Blitzen diagonally over the turf. Very tough indeed.
The pair thrashed at one another for the next half mile, wind whipping through their manes as they charged over the terrain, kicking clumps of earth behind them. The horses were dramatic in their run, casting vicious looks at one another, flames burning in the hoofprints left behind on the turf. They were crazy in their speed, brilliant, devastating. And they still weren't at top speed. They still had a quarter mile before they reached top speed. Justin was sitting as still as ever, letting Dame do all of the work on her own. She was moving nicely, keeping right off Popcorn Blitz, keeping level. She wasn't going in for the kill just yet. And Justin knew that was exactly how she thought of it. He stroked her shimmering black mane, reveling in her delicate power. She was something out of this world.
Blitzen was cruising right along, recognizing as Maggie did now that Dazzling Dame was not going anywhere. She was no slouch. She'd proven this to Brooks and was fighting for the right to stay with Witch Creek's string. Justin had turned her around enough to show that she did indeed have talent. Popcorn Blitz leaped nimbly up the top of the hill, powerful stride stretching and bunching to meet the odd terrain. He waited on Dazzling Dame, flicking his large, frame overwhelming the crest. Dazzling Dame flared her nostrils and pricked her ears excitedly. She let out an excited snort. Oh boy this was it. Justin leaned forward and together, Blitzen and Dame rolled right down the hill, legs sweeping forward. They were racing excellently, so controlled over the sleek surface. Maggie and Justin were careful to not move until the second they touched down on the flat portion of the turf.
The moment Blitzen found a hold on the ground, the Speed Demon stallion lurched forward, muscle hurtling like a line backer. He went from 0 to 60 in 3 big sweeping strides, nearly throwing Maggie in back of the saddle. Maggie could feel the wind tearing at her face, hot wind branding her. The stallion could sprint. He could run with the best and win. He had the ultimate physique and ultimate conditioning. He laid it all on the line, a master of his furious talent. Maggie barely moved, barely breathed. He was scary fast. One more urge from her and he would pick up another ethereal gear. So she didn't move. They'd save it for race. They'd save it for Terror Smile and The Innocent Skier.
Dame was impatient to be off, but she stayed desperately light on Justin's hands. She was so high energy, but so willing to give her head. Justin kept her close, letting Popcorn Blitz draw ahead by three giant strides. He was a glorious sucker. Vibrantly tough. Dazzling Dame conceded the lead when she realized it wasn't such a bad idea after all. She let her stride out, but stayed in control. Tight and beautiful, collected. Justin moved only once when they passed the two furlong mark and Blitzen was six lengths ahead. The sprinter understood the purpose of this workout was to key himself up as much as possible. He roared away. Justin, with a flick of his wrist, flicked Dame off cruise control and into rocket fuel. She put on such a burst of speed that Justin's head was nearly given whiplash. He curled in close to her mane, a simple bug, as she suddenly soared over the turf, eyes lighting up with competitiveness and desperate will to run her legs off. She covered the ground in quick, floating strides, a beautiful dark swan.
Maggie glanced under her arm and saw Dame right at Blitzen's hip. She'd been back a ways. Maggie was surprised and yet because Brooks had warned her that the filly had a terrific turn of foot, not. Popcorn Blitz switched gears into second, the most powerful of all, and surged forward once again, knocking Dame back as they roared into the final fourth furlong. Maggie remained still. That was the amazing thing about Witch Creek's horses. None of them particularly needed encouragement. A tap would suffice. Some needed nothing and that was Popcorn Blitz. She patted the colt's neck expecting to be home free. A buzz sounded to her left and she looked, suddenly Dame's face was beside Blitzen's shoulder. Justin was a burr in her mane, not even looking where he was going unless he was looking over her left shoulder.
Justin whispered encouragement to his gloriously fast filly. Oh Ripley would find a ton of horse beneath her in the final stages of the Veritas Stakes Race One. For sure. Dame was ready to get back to the track. Ready, not for battle, but for the joy of the final flight. Dazzling Dame raced alongside her much bigger opponent, eyes gleaming with pride and fire. She was a strong one. Blitzen flattened his ears, attempted intimidation by crowding, but Dame merely skipped sideways, putting a nose in front. Blitzen, too used to winning just off of his last emphatic victory, was not to be denied. He clicked into another gear off of a tap from Maggie and the big chestnut darted forward across the imaginary finish and up the hillside. Justin wanted to swear inwardly. The stallion had nosed his filly out. Maggie let out a loud cheer, slapping her great horse's neck. The Thunderstorm Stakes would be a very good race, a chance to break into the grade four ranks and again assert that he was not to be overlooked in the future. All that stood between them and the winner's circle was nine furlongs and two horses by the name of Terror Smile and The Innocent Skier.
Justin glared and didn't ask Dame to stop, instead asking for her best. He wanted to feel her best, to see if she was as good as he thought she was. Dazzling Dame picked up on the tense cue and she flew beyond a pulled up Blitzen, up and over the hillside, slim legs a blur beneath her racy turf body. Her speed was blinding, everything whistled by his face, his eyes. She was filled with awesome speed. It would be most evident on race day. When she had something to truly win, Dame would give it her best. Justin was sure that if Ripley, his boss, followed his specific instructions, she would get the best out of Dame. The best was good enough to be in the pantheon of greats.
ancient fire
Courtesy of Event of the Year Photos.
Ripley and Maggie rode out onto the dirt track, green and blue eyes blazing excitedly as they looked around. It would be a fun ride today, that's for sure. The bright light blue gate stood strong against the golden morning light. It was brilliant to finally have a contraption so useful for the race horses. Especially when breaking from the gate was particularly important for any start of the race. Ripley patted her filly's neck, taking in the beautiful morning and the beautiful horses. Maggie's colt pranced anxiously beneath her and into Fiery Touch. The dark bay colt was full of himself this morning. Why shouldn't he be? It was great to see him on his toes and ready to roll. Van's first race with Witch Creek Stable had taken him out a little. He'd needed a few days to recover. A third place finish was nothing to sneeze at in only your second start and it was considerably much improved than his rough beginning to the race track. Maggie crooned to the beast dancing beneath her, relishing in the kingly power that emanated from the Native Flame monster.
With Mastermind out of racing for the next month and a half, some of the focus could return to the other beasts of the stable. Mainly Fiery Touch and Frozen Motion, but the other two year olds were finally given a chance to step out of the Speed Demon colt's shadow. This would be Van Guard's first opportunity to prove that Witch Creek had a strong hand for this year and next year's classic races. But first, the big colt had to break his maiden... Quite a process. But it all started with the gate and the gate was what would be worked on today. His next start would come in the May Maiden Dirt at Green Horse Fields. He was facing Sea Siren, The Rising and C'est Impossible. It would be an interesting race. The main pace leader would be The Rising, who actually was only a preceder, but would have to go on the lead. Van Guard would stalk about two lengths behind in second, giving his big body a chance to rev up and idle until the homestretch. C'est Impossible from Prison Hill Stables would likely be next, followed by Bowen Acres Stable's Sea Siren. The race was relatively paceless. Van Guard wasn't a speed horse truly, his long legs just placed him casually in the stalking position. He didn't try very hard to run in the initial stages of the race. It would be a tough race for the others if Van was ready to roll in homestretch. Maggie patted the two year old's neck as he pranced studishly along the outside rail of the practice dirt track. He loved her attention, loved everyone's attention, which was good because being as large as he was, Van would get a lot come race day at Green Horse Fields.
Ripley was content today. Fiery Touch not so much. The bay filly was a little monster today. She wanted to run and run like crazy. She'd been dangerous in her stall, bucking and kicking, attempting to savage the grooms and Ripley any time she could. The Touch Up filly had finally tapped into her sire's demonstrative, bratty power and Ripley was actually happy about it. It was good to see the 16.2 hand filly displaying competitive fire. The competitive nature was ancient in horses. Horses weren't typically a competitive species with one another for food or water, but get them rolling and they strove to beat one another. It was an ancient magic, ancient fire and it was coming for Fiery Touch. The Flash at Dawn filly tossed her head, let out a heart pounding buck and bolted after her stable mate. Ripley stood in the stirrups, green eyes glinting with adrenaline and excitement. The Acorn Stakes hadn't been too rough on Fie. Like Frozen Motion, the talented bay had been running all year long. She was geared up and ready to roll. Her three weeks rest before the Acorn would really help too, considering everyone else she'd been running against was bound to get tired as the series wore on. Fie had incredible stamina and incredible conditioning. She was holding up nicely and was beautifully dappled out.
The Mother Goose Stakes was next in the Triple Tiara. Once again, Fie would face Paradise Island and Arachne. Winning Touch was not running in the rest of the series apparently. Fie had beaten Arachne and had nearly come a half-length into beating Paradise Island during the running of the Acorn Stakes. Fiery Touch was out for blood this time and she wanted to win. It would be a dangerous combination. Paradise Island and Arachne would be going head and head for the nine furlong race. Typically, a cold closer, Fie would usually have sat back six lengths behind and closed from there, but this time Ripley was changing the plan. She knew how Fie worked. The Touch Up filly ran effortlessly in the initial furlongs of the race, so effortlessly that her sheer size, much like Van Guard, carried her closer to the speed than she was actually running. Fiery Touch would only be three lengths behind the two other fillies. Nine furlongs in a duel was an awful long race to run and Ripley was confident that Fie would be the one holding the advantage this time around. If Fie could handle that advantage and come away all the better for it, Ripley would be more than happy with her Touch Up mount.
The pair of horses swung into an easy gallop about the track. Fie was blistering with fighting energy, pushing herself into Van Guard around the turn. Ripley sent a sad shrug in Maggie's direction. Maggie flipped her the casual bird and shook Van Guard up. The dark bay launched forward, big body stretching and contracting over the dirt track. Dirt clumps flung up into Fie's face. The filly ignored them, letting them bounce off before picking up speed and dashing back to Van's side. In the last two weeks, Fie had really taken to her new racing partner. She liked him a lot. He gave her a challenge because as fast as she went, Van could go faster due to his lack of trying. Fiery Touch fluidly galloped over the ground, eyes bright as diamonds. She was an angry, competitive mare these days, but she still loved to run for the joy of running. Ripley patted the filly's oak brown neck and let her out a little. Fiery Touch tried to snap at the bit, wanting total control, but gave up when Ripley's hands were already there. She flung her head high and kicked sideways, nearly taking Van's butt out. The big colt and the large filly gripped the dirt easily as they swung into the turn, bodies tense for the run.
Maggie and Ripley allowed them to finish the stifling gallop up the back stretch, hair whipping around their pale faces. The horses were begging for more run, slaughtering each other with their will to beat one another. Van Guard was a big easy horse to get along with, but he was just as full of run as the next horse, just as eager to push his will onto another. The riders were still, buried like burrs in the manes of their storming mounts. Hoofbeats sounded like thunder in the air, adrenaline pumped through trained veins. The horses were ready to roll. Maggie and Ripley pulled the mounts up heading into the far turn. The filly and colt put up a strong fight, leaping and crow hopping forward. They weren't done! Both horses were throwing tantrums, squealing and fighting, prancing with their front hooves. The riders exchanged fired up looks and finally managed to get their horses under control.
But the horses weren't done. Before they left the track, they still had one demon to face. The gate. Maggie and Ripley turned the strong horses toward the gate and met Brooks eyes. The curly haired blonde was fired up from watching the horses. He couldn't wait to use the new toy. We'll load them in and get them out as quickly as possible. How long you running for when they break? Ripley crooned to her filly and ran a quiet hand down her mane, soothing her attitude and ego. Five furlongs. Brooks nodded in agreement before jumping down from the gate work. Fiery Touch and Van Guard danced around, bodies pumping in excitement. They wanted to run. They knew what this would be like, breaking from the gate. They only broke from a gate during a race. Maggie and Ripley patted them with soft hands, keeping cool and collected. They were riding on a wave as well, a wave of excitement.
Brooks led Fiery Touch into the gate first. The filly snapped briefly at his fingers when he gripped the bridle beside the bit. Ripley scoffed and rode her into the gate. Fie was a pain in the butt when she got going. She was a really intense filly these days. An intense filly with a competitive edge was brilliant to have. Brooks shook his head, patted Ripley's arm and then jumped down to walk Maggie and Van into the gate. Van Guard was much more appreciative of the attention. He went in like a pro, towering body squeezed casually into the slim walking stall. He let out a quiet nicker and Fie returned a neigh. Brooks smiled and stroked a hand down the colt's beautiful face. Maggie grunted appreciatively then leaned forward. In the next stall, Ripley did the same.
Silence spread between the two women as they waited for Brooks to clang open the gates. It was a competitive silence. Each woman knew what was going to happen, each relished in the thought of potentially outbreaking and outracing one another. Van Guard and Fiery Touch each picked up on the tension, their eyes were focused and ears pricked, bodies braced. Ripley and Maggie were pleased that the pair were standing so quietly and so expectantly. Ripley patted Fie, heard the whirr before the gates suddenly bounced open with a resounding crash. In the space of three seconds, Fiery Touch and Van Guard were charging full speed ahead into the homestretch. Fiery Touch's elegant form broke faster than Van Guard's, but the Native Flame colt's sweeping stride soon had him placed about a length a head of her. Fie settled into her intense gait, letting Ripley get accustomed to her running style once again. The filly was an incredible ride. She settled down on the rail, ears pricked and tuned to Van Guard who was setting a high cruising pace.
Maggie was pleased with the way he ran. He just seemingly bounded over the ground, legs lifting, hooves barely touching the earth in those seconds. He was smooth for such a giant animal, a ground eater. Van was well on his way to racing with the best. He just needed to break his maiden. Maggie held him in and close to her body. The animal was quite relaxed and listening. An opposite to Fie. Ripley braced her hands on the bay filly's neck. She was so ready to roll it was unbelievable. Ripley loved training her horse away from The Wire and Green Horse Fields. They didn't need to train there. They got more out of training at home and less people would know her racing tactics. Fie was not going to be the typical closer in the Mother Goose. She would not come from way out of it. She would be there ready to take advantage of the front-running situation between Paradise Island and Arachne. She was shapely and ready to change. Her competitive juices were blazing so much that her running style was changing, molding to fit the racing situation. She was only a grade five tackling these competitors. She was doing extremely well in it too.
As the blistered past the wire, Ripley gathered herself and her mount, Fie tensed, and suddenly dropped the reins and launched herself up the filly's strong neck. Fiery Touch instantly rebroke, roaring up the inside of a cruising Van Guard as though he were standing still. Maggie grimaced and dropped the reins as well. Her mount surged forward, male muscle bunching beneath her to charge after his suddenly flying workmate. The workout had just gotten hotter in the space of four seconds. Ripley and Fiery Touch roared into the first turn again, mane and hair flying backward as they joined on the outside by a pulsating gangly, Van Guard. The Native Flame colt's ears were pinned back, his legs moving swiftly beneath him. He was full of himself, Maggie shook her fingers to keep him focused. And suddenly he was cool as a cucumber. Settling back off of Fie's hip. Fiery Touch flicked her ears in curiosity, but Ripley kept to her task, moving her fingers.
The pair hurtled into the backstretch, Van Guard once again rising up to run neck and neck with Fiery Touch. The three year old and two year old burned with that ancient fire, marching up the stretch, black tails streaming behind them. Ripley and Maggie were simply sitting on their backs, letting them gut it out. The filly and colt were full of energy as they crossed through the final furlongs of the workout. Ripley and Maggie found it a little easier to pull the pair up, but not by much. Their energy was high and they were ready for their next starts. The May Maiden Dirt and The Mother Goose Stakes wouldn't know what hit them when Van Guard and Fiery Touch were charging after the leader on the final turn.
With Mastermind out of racing for the next month and a half, some of the focus could return to the other beasts of the stable. Mainly Fiery Touch and Frozen Motion, but the other two year olds were finally given a chance to step out of the Speed Demon colt's shadow. This would be Van Guard's first opportunity to prove that Witch Creek had a strong hand for this year and next year's classic races. But first, the big colt had to break his maiden... Quite a process. But it all started with the gate and the gate was what would be worked on today. His next start would come in the May Maiden Dirt at Green Horse Fields. He was facing Sea Siren, The Rising and C'est Impossible. It would be an interesting race. The main pace leader would be The Rising, who actually was only a preceder, but would have to go on the lead. Van Guard would stalk about two lengths behind in second, giving his big body a chance to rev up and idle until the homestretch. C'est Impossible from Prison Hill Stables would likely be next, followed by Bowen Acres Stable's Sea Siren. The race was relatively paceless. Van Guard wasn't a speed horse truly, his long legs just placed him casually in the stalking position. He didn't try very hard to run in the initial stages of the race. It would be a tough race for the others if Van was ready to roll in homestretch. Maggie patted the two year old's neck as he pranced studishly along the outside rail of the practice dirt track. He loved her attention, loved everyone's attention, which was good because being as large as he was, Van would get a lot come race day at Green Horse Fields.
Ripley was content today. Fiery Touch not so much. The bay filly was a little monster today. She wanted to run and run like crazy. She'd been dangerous in her stall, bucking and kicking, attempting to savage the grooms and Ripley any time she could. The Touch Up filly had finally tapped into her sire's demonstrative, bratty power and Ripley was actually happy about it. It was good to see the 16.2 hand filly displaying competitive fire. The competitive nature was ancient in horses. Horses weren't typically a competitive species with one another for food or water, but get them rolling and they strove to beat one another. It was an ancient magic, ancient fire and it was coming for Fiery Touch. The Flash at Dawn filly tossed her head, let out a heart pounding buck and bolted after her stable mate. Ripley stood in the stirrups, green eyes glinting with adrenaline and excitement. The Acorn Stakes hadn't been too rough on Fie. Like Frozen Motion, the talented bay had been running all year long. She was geared up and ready to roll. Her three weeks rest before the Acorn would really help too, considering everyone else she'd been running against was bound to get tired as the series wore on. Fie had incredible stamina and incredible conditioning. She was holding up nicely and was beautifully dappled out.
The Mother Goose Stakes was next in the Triple Tiara. Once again, Fie would face Paradise Island and Arachne. Winning Touch was not running in the rest of the series apparently. Fie had beaten Arachne and had nearly come a half-length into beating Paradise Island during the running of the Acorn Stakes. Fiery Touch was out for blood this time and she wanted to win. It would be a dangerous combination. Paradise Island and Arachne would be going head and head for the nine furlong race. Typically, a cold closer, Fie would usually have sat back six lengths behind and closed from there, but this time Ripley was changing the plan. She knew how Fie worked. The Touch Up filly ran effortlessly in the initial furlongs of the race, so effortlessly that her sheer size, much like Van Guard, carried her closer to the speed than she was actually running. Fiery Touch would only be three lengths behind the two other fillies. Nine furlongs in a duel was an awful long race to run and Ripley was confident that Fie would be the one holding the advantage this time around. If Fie could handle that advantage and come away all the better for it, Ripley would be more than happy with her Touch Up mount.
The pair of horses swung into an easy gallop about the track. Fie was blistering with fighting energy, pushing herself into Van Guard around the turn. Ripley sent a sad shrug in Maggie's direction. Maggie flipped her the casual bird and shook Van Guard up. The dark bay launched forward, big body stretching and contracting over the dirt track. Dirt clumps flung up into Fie's face. The filly ignored them, letting them bounce off before picking up speed and dashing back to Van's side. In the last two weeks, Fie had really taken to her new racing partner. She liked him a lot. He gave her a challenge because as fast as she went, Van could go faster due to his lack of trying. Fiery Touch fluidly galloped over the ground, eyes bright as diamonds. She was an angry, competitive mare these days, but she still loved to run for the joy of running. Ripley patted the filly's oak brown neck and let her out a little. Fiery Touch tried to snap at the bit, wanting total control, but gave up when Ripley's hands were already there. She flung her head high and kicked sideways, nearly taking Van's butt out. The big colt and the large filly gripped the dirt easily as they swung into the turn, bodies tense for the run.
Maggie and Ripley allowed them to finish the stifling gallop up the back stretch, hair whipping around their pale faces. The horses were begging for more run, slaughtering each other with their will to beat one another. Van Guard was a big easy horse to get along with, but he was just as full of run as the next horse, just as eager to push his will onto another. The riders were still, buried like burrs in the manes of their storming mounts. Hoofbeats sounded like thunder in the air, adrenaline pumped through trained veins. The horses were ready to roll. Maggie and Ripley pulled the mounts up heading into the far turn. The filly and colt put up a strong fight, leaping and crow hopping forward. They weren't done! Both horses were throwing tantrums, squealing and fighting, prancing with their front hooves. The riders exchanged fired up looks and finally managed to get their horses under control.
But the horses weren't done. Before they left the track, they still had one demon to face. The gate. Maggie and Ripley turned the strong horses toward the gate and met Brooks eyes. The curly haired blonde was fired up from watching the horses. He couldn't wait to use the new toy. We'll load them in and get them out as quickly as possible. How long you running for when they break? Ripley crooned to her filly and ran a quiet hand down her mane, soothing her attitude and ego. Five furlongs. Brooks nodded in agreement before jumping down from the gate work. Fiery Touch and Van Guard danced around, bodies pumping in excitement. They wanted to run. They knew what this would be like, breaking from the gate. They only broke from a gate during a race. Maggie and Ripley patted them with soft hands, keeping cool and collected. They were riding on a wave as well, a wave of excitement.
Brooks led Fiery Touch into the gate first. The filly snapped briefly at his fingers when he gripped the bridle beside the bit. Ripley scoffed and rode her into the gate. Fie was a pain in the butt when she got going. She was a really intense filly these days. An intense filly with a competitive edge was brilliant to have. Brooks shook his head, patted Ripley's arm and then jumped down to walk Maggie and Van into the gate. Van Guard was much more appreciative of the attention. He went in like a pro, towering body squeezed casually into the slim walking stall. He let out a quiet nicker and Fie returned a neigh. Brooks smiled and stroked a hand down the colt's beautiful face. Maggie grunted appreciatively then leaned forward. In the next stall, Ripley did the same.
Silence spread between the two women as they waited for Brooks to clang open the gates. It was a competitive silence. Each woman knew what was going to happen, each relished in the thought of potentially outbreaking and outracing one another. Van Guard and Fiery Touch each picked up on the tension, their eyes were focused and ears pricked, bodies braced. Ripley and Maggie were pleased that the pair were standing so quietly and so expectantly. Ripley patted Fie, heard the whirr before the gates suddenly bounced open with a resounding crash. In the space of three seconds, Fiery Touch and Van Guard were charging full speed ahead into the homestretch. Fiery Touch's elegant form broke faster than Van Guard's, but the Native Flame colt's sweeping stride soon had him placed about a length a head of her. Fie settled into her intense gait, letting Ripley get accustomed to her running style once again. The filly was an incredible ride. She settled down on the rail, ears pricked and tuned to Van Guard who was setting a high cruising pace.
Maggie was pleased with the way he ran. He just seemingly bounded over the ground, legs lifting, hooves barely touching the earth in those seconds. He was smooth for such a giant animal, a ground eater. Van was well on his way to racing with the best. He just needed to break his maiden. Maggie held him in and close to her body. The animal was quite relaxed and listening. An opposite to Fie. Ripley braced her hands on the bay filly's neck. She was so ready to roll it was unbelievable. Ripley loved training her horse away from The Wire and Green Horse Fields. They didn't need to train there. They got more out of training at home and less people would know her racing tactics. Fie was not going to be the typical closer in the Mother Goose. She would not come from way out of it. She would be there ready to take advantage of the front-running situation between Paradise Island and Arachne. She was shapely and ready to change. Her competitive juices were blazing so much that her running style was changing, molding to fit the racing situation. She was only a grade five tackling these competitors. She was doing extremely well in it too.
As the blistered past the wire, Ripley gathered herself and her mount, Fie tensed, and suddenly dropped the reins and launched herself up the filly's strong neck. Fiery Touch instantly rebroke, roaring up the inside of a cruising Van Guard as though he were standing still. Maggie grimaced and dropped the reins as well. Her mount surged forward, male muscle bunching beneath her to charge after his suddenly flying workmate. The workout had just gotten hotter in the space of four seconds. Ripley and Fiery Touch roared into the first turn again, mane and hair flying backward as they joined on the outside by a pulsating gangly, Van Guard. The Native Flame colt's ears were pinned back, his legs moving swiftly beneath him. He was full of himself, Maggie shook her fingers to keep him focused. And suddenly he was cool as a cucumber. Settling back off of Fie's hip. Fiery Touch flicked her ears in curiosity, but Ripley kept to her task, moving her fingers.
The pair hurtled into the backstretch, Van Guard once again rising up to run neck and neck with Fiery Touch. The three year old and two year old burned with that ancient fire, marching up the stretch, black tails streaming behind them. Ripley and Maggie were simply sitting on their backs, letting them gut it out. The filly and colt were full of energy as they crossed through the final furlongs of the workout. Ripley and Maggie found it a little easier to pull the pair up, but not by much. Their energy was high and they were ready for their next starts. The May Maiden Dirt and The Mother Goose Stakes wouldn't know what hit them when Van Guard and Fiery Touch were charging after the leader on the final turn.
burn it down
Courtesy of Event of The Year Photos.
Midnight Thriller and Ashes to Ashes marched over the dirt track, bodies excitedly tensed up and rearing to go. The black and bay had been on edge since their last races in the Saskatchewan Derby and the Fluffy Cup, respectively. Both of the power house horses were still riding on the adrenaline high that came from racing, both couldn't wait to do it again and both were thirsting for another victory. Ashes to Ashes was one win away from being a grade four, not finishing out of the money in all of his starts this year. Midnight Thriller had done a complete reversal in attitudes. The filly was dying for another win, where when she'd first come to Witch Creek, the filly could have cared less for running. She'd finished first in the April Week Four race and then second in the Sas. Derby. She now had more in the money placings than out of the money placings and she was well on her way to getting back to normal. Ripley couldn't be happier with the dark filly's progress, Especially since her sister had won the Kentucky Derby.
Brooks patted Ash's thick neck as they jogged around the outside of the rail. The stunning bay colt was really moving nice today, willingly move out in his trot. He was ready to roll and ready to fight. His second place finish in the Fluffy Cup had awoken the colt to the fact that he could still lose after winning two times in a row. The colt loved being in the winner's circle. Ripley and Brooks still had no major plans for the youngster. He wouldn't be placed in the Kentucky Derby and had a very outside chance of making the Canada Triple Crown at The Wire. He was doing extremely well, well enough to draw attention in the news production about the top three year olds at The Wire. His wins had been powerful and his second place finish very strong. He wasn't a slouch and was definitely helping Witch Creek to establish a three year old racing group.
Midnight Thriller's next start would be in May Week Three in the Yukon Derby Race One. The filly was more than ready to take on certain races in the series. So far only Sweet Inferno from Stride of Perfection Stables and Perfect Moment from Close Racing were entered in the first series race. Sweet Inferno was a confirmed front runner and Perfect Moment was a confirmed mid-pack runner. Midtee would settle perfectly in between them and would be ready to take over the lead in the Grade Five race at the head of the stretch. The black filly had been training like the devil himself, pounding over the dirt track like a freight train, getting it all out before race day came in a week. She would be relaxed and calculating and ready to roll, more than ready to roll... Ready to win. Ripley was happy to say that as of right now, Midnight Thriller was on the improve and that she couldn't wait for the filly's next few races. Ripley patted the black's neck, smiling when she bowed her head until she touched her chin to her chest. The filly was a beast. A wonderful, beautiful, devastating beast.
Brooks knew that Ripley was more than satisfied with the Night Stalker filly and he also knew that he wasn't too fond of being her workmate. As long as they kept the workout shorter and sweeter than last time, Brooks would be content. Ashes to Ashes couldn't hold a candle to the black one behind 10 furlongs. He wasn't built to be a marathoner like Midtee. He was thick and chunky and tough, made for the classic distance races. Midnight Thriller was lithe, speedy and built for longer races. The bay kept a wary eye on the smarting filly. He didn't want to be pounded like he had been last week. Brooks was pretty sure, Midtee and losing the Fluffy Cup, had brought the Crooked Fire colt back to planet earth. Brooks wanted to get the nicely built bay back into the sky. He didn't want Ash to think he had limits because he did, but he would never have to face such a stamina test again against Midtee or anyone else for that matter.
His next race would be in the Pandorra Derby over seven furlongs and against four other horses. The race was loaded with speed, so maybe it was good that Ash had gotten in an endurance workout. The longest lasting speed would do the trick in this race. Declarate, Sweetness Unlimited, Mercurial Magic and Daydream would be tough foes, but Brooks was sure Ash could handle them and prove his worth again. He would be only on the lead by Daydream, even then he could settle off of her haunch and rate quietly from the inside. Next would likely come Sweetness Unlimited, as she too was a pre-ceder. Mercurial Magic, once Witch Creek, now Stride of Perfection, would most likely rate as a stalker in this kind of race. Declarate would sit back as a mid-pack. Brooks was slightly worried that there would be enough pace for the Bowen Acres filly to run them all down, but for the moment he believed that Mercurial Magic would be the biggest challenger. Brooks patted his own colt's neck. Ash would do fine. He could hold his own and prove that he was a truly solid race horse.
Ripley and Brooks and their mounts had completed a full jogging circuit around the track and were back at the wire rather quickly. Both riders were happy to be in the saddles of these guys. More for Ripley because she had just realized she actually a nice string of three year olds to go along with her two year olds. She had a dirt miler colt, a classic dirt filly, a classic turf filly, a marathoner and a miler filly. She was set up rather nicely for the other Breeders Cup races at the end of the year if her bunch continued to perform above expectations. Brooks eyed his girlfriend, watching as her eyes went from dreamy to narrowed. She'd been so content these days. He'd like to think he was the reason for it. And then she set those irritated green eyes on him and his hopes were all but eliminated.
You're positive you won't go beyond a mile and a quarter gallop? Brooks snorted. He should have guessed it would be about something having to do with the horses. Ash flicked an ear at her irritated tone. You know my limits Ripley. You know his. He's important. If he's not good enough for Midtee, we'll find someone else. Ripley scoffed. There was no one else who could keep up with her over long distances. She was in a conundrum. Honestly, Ripley had never had a pure marathon runner before. Midtee would be running in a nine furlong race, but gradually she would work up to running long and she wouldn't be coming back down from it. It would make her tough to pair up with next year, but if Indian Darling came back as good as ever, Darla would give a fight beyond eleven furlongs. Ripley's problem would then be: who would she choose to ride? Ripley firmly believed that one horse needed one rider to be able to perform up to expectations. Well right now we don't have anyone else. So a mile and a quarter it is. Four furlong workout for both of them. They're both running shorter this time, so we can get away with it.
Brooks grinned. This would totally backfire on him if neither horse ran up to expectations. That was a risk he had to take and a result he was betting he wouldn't see. The riders let the colt and filly out into a gallop, going quiet. These were two horses who needed complete and total attention. Ash moved like a prime engine beneath him, his legs pistons moving him forward at a strong clip. He easily collared Midnight Thriller, ears pricking up in excitement. He stretched his neck out, looking for more rein. Brooks kept him hemmed in and down, wanting him to stay nice and relaxed. The big bay needed to learn how to rate if he was going to win the Pandorra Derby. Gradually, he settled down, learning to stretch his large stride rather than running faster to make up for it. Brooks kept his hands quiet, pleased he'd gotten the burly horse exactly where he wanted him.
Midtee was on the muscle for Ripley today, not that Brooks would be able to tell. The filly was mouthing the bit crazily, spit flinging back from her jaws and hitting her cobalt shoulders. She wanted to go today and needed the edge to be taken off. She was really scooting in a tight way, not stretching herself like Ash did. She felt quicker when she used a shorter stride. Ripley sat patiently above her withers, green eyes taking in Ash's relaxing form. It would be a harder workout this time and she felt bad for putting up such a fuss for a longer workout with Brooks. Midnight Thriller tossed her beautiful black head and pulled a little more, switching her tail over her rump. She was filled with an inner fire that never dimmed or extinguished. The black runner had an infinite fire and it was beautiful to see when it was molded correctly. Ripley stroked the filly's neck, holding the reins tight with one hand while she did so. Midtee relaxed then as they cruised into the homestretch. She angled her body sideways to slow herself down. Midnight Thriller knew all about stalking and pouncing. She didn't need lessons in waiting which made her a solid workout partner for Ashes to Ashes. If she was relaxed so was he.
The evidence of that began to ring true as they again rounded into the backstretch. Ashes was all nice and stretched out, lumbering along beneath Brooks as if he hadn't a care in the world. Brooks was ecstatic. This kind of attitude would give them more win opportunities than being a flat-out speed horse. He was controllable speed, a huge threat. Brooks patted the colt's neck praising him. The speed portion of today would be arriving in about :20 seconds. Brooks glanced under his shoulder and had that same dreading feeling when he looked at Midnight Thriller as he had last week. The black filly was a fighter jet waiting in the wings. She just had this aura about her that she could run right up to you and nail you at any moment. Even when she wasn't winning, she'd still exuded this aura, but it was so more threatening when she actually meant it.
Ripley stuck out her tongue when Brooks looked back. The man shook his head and turned back to his mount. At least the distance was shorter. They'd give it all they had. Midtee wouldn't be so good at a shorter distance. Ripley could practically hear Brooks making up reasons why Ash would beat her black filly in this workout. She didn't doubt that the thick Crooked Fire colt would be able to at a shorter distances, but at longer ones, Midtee had proven herself as queen. Ripley patted the filly's neck as they slipped toward the half-way mark that indicated the beginning of the speed test. Midnight Thriller pricked her ears right up, swished her tail and seemed to beg Ripley for her cue to get running.
Brooks flashed over the marker first and let his mount go. Ash immediately steamrolled the immediate ground before him, dashing away to lead by three lengths. He was a very quick horse and especially when he was on his toes. Four furlongs was not enough time to settle into a nice cruising speed. He needed to get going from the get-go. Midtee would be coming and coming fast. Brooks encouraged Ash with his typical sound track of country music: this time Over by Taylor Swift. He wasn't particularly fond of the song and it was fairly girly, but it was upbeat and Ash seemed to like it. He heard Ripley let out a hoot of laughter and his cheeks flushed red with embarrassment. Ash, however, suddenly picked up another gear and spurted five lengths to the lead into the far turn. Brooks couldn't tell if that was what stopped Ripley's laughing or if they were too far to hear her now. He grinned and shook Ash up some more.
Ripley refocused, becoming stiff with adrenaline. Midtee flattened her ears in response because even though Ripley's hands were light on the reins, she was still giving off waves of emotion. She dropped the reins then and Midtee roared to life in a split second. The jet black filly took off and was blazing for Ashes to Ashes. Brooks flinched. She was coming. Her hoof beats were loud as a drum. Ash gave off another wave of speed, trying to eliminate the assault completely. But within five seconds, Midtee's brilliant turn of foot had her catching up with the bay colt. Only this time he was fighting back ears pinned, eyes blazing. Brooks was impressed as he pushed into the lighter built filly. Ash was back to the way he had been, gutting it out every step of the way. Midtee pushed back, eyes glowing determinedly against a very fiery back drop. She was out for blood. Her ears were lost in her mane as she fought every step of the way to beat Ash, to bury him, to claim that she was the fastest, longest lasting filly in the land.
The pair streaked up the homestretch, bodies a mass of muscle, bone and blood. Each gutting it out for a victory until the next time they raced again. Midtee and Ash roared together again, bouncing off one another, creating a boom as they collided. Their speed continued to increase and increase. Suddenly they were streaking under the wire, bodies drenched in sweat, still aiming hated glares as they passed beyond their intended target. Ripley and Brooks remained silent, each impressed and very satisfied with the horses' workouts. Ash and Midtee were out for a fight and for a chance at victory. The winner's circle was only 7 and 9 furlongs away.
Brooks patted Ash's thick neck as they jogged around the outside of the rail. The stunning bay colt was really moving nice today, willingly move out in his trot. He was ready to roll and ready to fight. His second place finish in the Fluffy Cup had awoken the colt to the fact that he could still lose after winning two times in a row. The colt loved being in the winner's circle. Ripley and Brooks still had no major plans for the youngster. He wouldn't be placed in the Kentucky Derby and had a very outside chance of making the Canada Triple Crown at The Wire. He was doing extremely well, well enough to draw attention in the news production about the top three year olds at The Wire. His wins had been powerful and his second place finish very strong. He wasn't a slouch and was definitely helping Witch Creek to establish a three year old racing group.
Midnight Thriller's next start would be in May Week Three in the Yukon Derby Race One. The filly was more than ready to take on certain races in the series. So far only Sweet Inferno from Stride of Perfection Stables and Perfect Moment from Close Racing were entered in the first series race. Sweet Inferno was a confirmed front runner and Perfect Moment was a confirmed mid-pack runner. Midtee would settle perfectly in between them and would be ready to take over the lead in the Grade Five race at the head of the stretch. The black filly had been training like the devil himself, pounding over the dirt track like a freight train, getting it all out before race day came in a week. She would be relaxed and calculating and ready to roll, more than ready to roll... Ready to win. Ripley was happy to say that as of right now, Midnight Thriller was on the improve and that she couldn't wait for the filly's next few races. Ripley patted the black's neck, smiling when she bowed her head until she touched her chin to her chest. The filly was a beast. A wonderful, beautiful, devastating beast.
Brooks knew that Ripley was more than satisfied with the Night Stalker filly and he also knew that he wasn't too fond of being her workmate. As long as they kept the workout shorter and sweeter than last time, Brooks would be content. Ashes to Ashes couldn't hold a candle to the black one behind 10 furlongs. He wasn't built to be a marathoner like Midtee. He was thick and chunky and tough, made for the classic distance races. Midnight Thriller was lithe, speedy and built for longer races. The bay kept a wary eye on the smarting filly. He didn't want to be pounded like he had been last week. Brooks was pretty sure, Midtee and losing the Fluffy Cup, had brought the Crooked Fire colt back to planet earth. Brooks wanted to get the nicely built bay back into the sky. He didn't want Ash to think he had limits because he did, but he would never have to face such a stamina test again against Midtee or anyone else for that matter.
His next race would be in the Pandorra Derby over seven furlongs and against four other horses. The race was loaded with speed, so maybe it was good that Ash had gotten in an endurance workout. The longest lasting speed would do the trick in this race. Declarate, Sweetness Unlimited, Mercurial Magic and Daydream would be tough foes, but Brooks was sure Ash could handle them and prove his worth again. He would be only on the lead by Daydream, even then he could settle off of her haunch and rate quietly from the inside. Next would likely come Sweetness Unlimited, as she too was a pre-ceder. Mercurial Magic, once Witch Creek, now Stride of Perfection, would most likely rate as a stalker in this kind of race. Declarate would sit back as a mid-pack. Brooks was slightly worried that there would be enough pace for the Bowen Acres filly to run them all down, but for the moment he believed that Mercurial Magic would be the biggest challenger. Brooks patted his own colt's neck. Ash would do fine. He could hold his own and prove that he was a truly solid race horse.
Ripley and Brooks and their mounts had completed a full jogging circuit around the track and were back at the wire rather quickly. Both riders were happy to be in the saddles of these guys. More for Ripley because she had just realized she actually a nice string of three year olds to go along with her two year olds. She had a dirt miler colt, a classic dirt filly, a classic turf filly, a marathoner and a miler filly. She was set up rather nicely for the other Breeders Cup races at the end of the year if her bunch continued to perform above expectations. Brooks eyed his girlfriend, watching as her eyes went from dreamy to narrowed. She'd been so content these days. He'd like to think he was the reason for it. And then she set those irritated green eyes on him and his hopes were all but eliminated.
You're positive you won't go beyond a mile and a quarter gallop? Brooks snorted. He should have guessed it would be about something having to do with the horses. Ash flicked an ear at her irritated tone. You know my limits Ripley. You know his. He's important. If he's not good enough for Midtee, we'll find someone else. Ripley scoffed. There was no one else who could keep up with her over long distances. She was in a conundrum. Honestly, Ripley had never had a pure marathon runner before. Midtee would be running in a nine furlong race, but gradually she would work up to running long and she wouldn't be coming back down from it. It would make her tough to pair up with next year, but if Indian Darling came back as good as ever, Darla would give a fight beyond eleven furlongs. Ripley's problem would then be: who would she choose to ride? Ripley firmly believed that one horse needed one rider to be able to perform up to expectations. Well right now we don't have anyone else. So a mile and a quarter it is. Four furlong workout for both of them. They're both running shorter this time, so we can get away with it.
Brooks grinned. This would totally backfire on him if neither horse ran up to expectations. That was a risk he had to take and a result he was betting he wouldn't see. The riders let the colt and filly out into a gallop, going quiet. These were two horses who needed complete and total attention. Ash moved like a prime engine beneath him, his legs pistons moving him forward at a strong clip. He easily collared Midnight Thriller, ears pricking up in excitement. He stretched his neck out, looking for more rein. Brooks kept him hemmed in and down, wanting him to stay nice and relaxed. The big bay needed to learn how to rate if he was going to win the Pandorra Derby. Gradually, he settled down, learning to stretch his large stride rather than running faster to make up for it. Brooks kept his hands quiet, pleased he'd gotten the burly horse exactly where he wanted him.
Midtee was on the muscle for Ripley today, not that Brooks would be able to tell. The filly was mouthing the bit crazily, spit flinging back from her jaws and hitting her cobalt shoulders. She wanted to go today and needed the edge to be taken off. She was really scooting in a tight way, not stretching herself like Ash did. She felt quicker when she used a shorter stride. Ripley sat patiently above her withers, green eyes taking in Ash's relaxing form. It would be a harder workout this time and she felt bad for putting up such a fuss for a longer workout with Brooks. Midnight Thriller tossed her beautiful black head and pulled a little more, switching her tail over her rump. She was filled with an inner fire that never dimmed or extinguished. The black runner had an infinite fire and it was beautiful to see when it was molded correctly. Ripley stroked the filly's neck, holding the reins tight with one hand while she did so. Midtee relaxed then as they cruised into the homestretch. She angled her body sideways to slow herself down. Midnight Thriller knew all about stalking and pouncing. She didn't need lessons in waiting which made her a solid workout partner for Ashes to Ashes. If she was relaxed so was he.
The evidence of that began to ring true as they again rounded into the backstretch. Ashes was all nice and stretched out, lumbering along beneath Brooks as if he hadn't a care in the world. Brooks was ecstatic. This kind of attitude would give them more win opportunities than being a flat-out speed horse. He was controllable speed, a huge threat. Brooks patted the colt's neck praising him. The speed portion of today would be arriving in about :20 seconds. Brooks glanced under his shoulder and had that same dreading feeling when he looked at Midnight Thriller as he had last week. The black filly was a fighter jet waiting in the wings. She just had this aura about her that she could run right up to you and nail you at any moment. Even when she wasn't winning, she'd still exuded this aura, but it was so more threatening when she actually meant it.
Ripley stuck out her tongue when Brooks looked back. The man shook his head and turned back to his mount. At least the distance was shorter. They'd give it all they had. Midtee wouldn't be so good at a shorter distance. Ripley could practically hear Brooks making up reasons why Ash would beat her black filly in this workout. She didn't doubt that the thick Crooked Fire colt would be able to at a shorter distances, but at longer ones, Midtee had proven herself as queen. Ripley patted the filly's neck as they slipped toward the half-way mark that indicated the beginning of the speed test. Midnight Thriller pricked her ears right up, swished her tail and seemed to beg Ripley for her cue to get running.
Brooks flashed over the marker first and let his mount go. Ash immediately steamrolled the immediate ground before him, dashing away to lead by three lengths. He was a very quick horse and especially when he was on his toes. Four furlongs was not enough time to settle into a nice cruising speed. He needed to get going from the get-go. Midtee would be coming and coming fast. Brooks encouraged Ash with his typical sound track of country music: this time Over by Taylor Swift. He wasn't particularly fond of the song and it was fairly girly, but it was upbeat and Ash seemed to like it. He heard Ripley let out a hoot of laughter and his cheeks flushed red with embarrassment. Ash, however, suddenly picked up another gear and spurted five lengths to the lead into the far turn. Brooks couldn't tell if that was what stopped Ripley's laughing or if they were too far to hear her now. He grinned and shook Ash up some more.
Ripley refocused, becoming stiff with adrenaline. Midtee flattened her ears in response because even though Ripley's hands were light on the reins, she was still giving off waves of emotion. She dropped the reins then and Midtee roared to life in a split second. The jet black filly took off and was blazing for Ashes to Ashes. Brooks flinched. She was coming. Her hoof beats were loud as a drum. Ash gave off another wave of speed, trying to eliminate the assault completely. But within five seconds, Midtee's brilliant turn of foot had her catching up with the bay colt. Only this time he was fighting back ears pinned, eyes blazing. Brooks was impressed as he pushed into the lighter built filly. Ash was back to the way he had been, gutting it out every step of the way. Midtee pushed back, eyes glowing determinedly against a very fiery back drop. She was out for blood. Her ears were lost in her mane as she fought every step of the way to beat Ash, to bury him, to claim that she was the fastest, longest lasting filly in the land.
The pair streaked up the homestretch, bodies a mass of muscle, bone and blood. Each gutting it out for a victory until the next time they raced again. Midtee and Ash roared together again, bouncing off one another, creating a boom as they collided. Their speed continued to increase and increase. Suddenly they were streaking under the wire, bodies drenched in sweat, still aiming hated glares as they passed beyond their intended target. Ripley and Brooks remained silent, each impressed and very satisfied with the horses' workouts. Ash and Midtee were out for a fight and for a chance at victory. The winner's circle was only 7 and 9 furlongs away.
Wild Cry
Courtesy of Event of The Year Photos.
Burning Blazes Stakes: Dirty Diana (strong closer), Red Herring (pace presser)
This was it. The test if $5.5 million had been worth the Crescential x Requiem filly. Brooks, Maggie and Ripley stood side by side at the edge of the dirt track. Their eyes were blazing and excited. The rush to purchase Screaming Mimi had been interesting, especially when news reporters had called and then shown up on Witch Creek's doorstep the next day. It was strange being in the center of attention. Since Frozen Motion had won the Kentucky Open, reporters from the thoroughbred magazines had been calling constantly for an update. Freeze wasn't as available to the public as his arch-rival Infinite Warcry was. Frozen Motion only left the stable grounds on race day. He didn't need to be camera chased on the race track during his preparatory hours. Ripley examined the track, watching as Justin and Connor led the black filly around the track, getting her accustomed to her surroundings before Maggie and Brooks mounted.
Brooks held onto Red Herring's reins, patting the chestnut's neck. The blaze faced colt dipped his head briefly toward Brooks, but immediately returned to the alert position watching Screaming Mimi. The humans also turned their attention to the filly. She was a big sucker. 16.3 hands and only three years old, the Crescential daughter was only smaller than Van Guard. Her black body glinted coldly in the heated sun, a contradiction to the extremely hot day. She pranced between the boys, well into her second circuit around the track. She was on fire today just as she had been since she'd arrived. And not in a good way either. Mims was the toughest filly in the barn now, toughest to work with at least. Though Dazzling Dame and the new yearling Prima Donna could certainly give her a run for her money. The black filly bolted between the two boys, screaming as she did so and practically yanking them out of their shoes. Connor cursed as she dragged them across the track, bucking and launching herself forward forcefully. Justin yelled at Connor for squealing and he jabbed at the lead shank on his side. The filly turned her very expressive head and bared her teeth viciously. Justin yelled at her, spit and she instantly squealed, backing off. She was such a big son of a gun. Her black socks were the only sign of virtue and daylight. The rest of her was fiery and cold at the same time. She was not a nice a filly. Mims cast a challenging look at the three humans along the rail before allowing herself to be tugged in their direction.
You sure you wanted that filly Ripley? She's no Cheeto. Maggie said nervously. Ripley looked at her friend with eager cat-green eyes. Yes I wanted her and she's definitely not a Cheeto. But we need her right now. She'll be awesome later in the year. Ripley clapped her hands together, went to Red Herring and leaned down. She ran cool fingers over the horse's legs, checking for sores or heat. As usual Red was as solid as ever. Brooks would be riding him in the Burning Blaze Stakes at Green Horse Fields next week. The chestnut had been on a roll this year, winning two races and finishing second and third in his other two. He was a very solid purchase from an unknown ranch out west. Ripley grinned when he flattened his ears at her. Such a cantankerous horse. Brooks rubbed a firm hand down Red Herring's massive blaze. Red nodded as if in silent conversation with his regular rider. He refocused quickly though when the boys finally managed to drag a furious Mims over to the gap.
Hey Black Beauty, Maggie crooned. Mims switched her tail over her rump, cast an arrogant gaze in Maggie's direction and then looked toward the track, completely unaffected. Maggie shook her head and eyed Ripley warily. If she kills me, you aren't getting anything. Ripley sent a toothy smile Maggie's way and helped her up into the small racing saddle. Ripley patted Screaming Mimi's shoulder. Mims didn't mind Ripley so much as the other humans. She sent a respectful eye in Ripley's direction, but didn't attempt any savagery. There was mutual respect. Maggie had taken a beating from Mims just yesterday when she was feeding. The black filly knew how to use her body and teeth. A black bruise was blooming on Maggie's upper thigh and it wasn't the most pleasing feeling in the world.
While Ripley helped Brooks fix the saddle on Red Herring, Maggie began to feel the filly out. One word. Solid. That was the only way to describe the equine beneath her. Screaming Mimi was built like a stallion. There was nothing delicate about her, not even her head. She was just so built and so fired up. The second Maggie had settled in the saddle, the Crescential filly had puffed herself up and instantly tensed. She had a fantastically powerful aura about her. It was overwhelming because nothing Maggie rode at the moment so expressed this attitude. It was as if Screaming Mimi wouldn't be controlled once she got under way. Maggie let out a long wary breath and attempted to relax. Screaming Mimi stood as still as an obsidian stone.
Brooks patted Red Herring when he was finally in the saddle. He looked at Ripley, How long today? Ripley had already thought the days workouts out at four in the morning. Reporters had both annoyed and exhilarated her. Make it a mile and a quarter gallop with a four furlong blow out. It'll get Mims back in the grind and prepare Red for his ten furlong race next week. Brooks nodded, took up the reins and asked Red Herring to move onto the track. You ready Maggot? Maggie nodded, asked the filly to step out and she did so without a fight, surprisingly. The instant they were on the loamy soil, both riders asked their horses to move into a trot alongside the outer rail of the track. Red Herring was feeling feisty today. He launched three nearly back breaking bucks and bolted. Used to the playful attitude, Brooks managed to shut him down and rein him in before he got Screaming Mimi wound up or injured himself.
Screaming Mimi did not react at all to Red's burst of energy. She flattened her ears and moved forward, expressively telling Red to keep his distance. The chestnut was more than ready to stay away from the larger and older filly. Red may be a bully to Mastermind and the rest of the two year olds, but he wasn't out to get whooped by the Black Widow, as she'd come to be known at Witch Creek. Maggie dared to run a gentle hand over Screaming Mimi's neck, breathing a sigh of relief when the filly kept her eyes forward. She didn't threaten to break into a faster gait. Nothing. She was quiet and collected, very calculating. Maggie thought that maybe this workout wouldn't be so bad after all. Maybe their partnership would be better than she'd given the filly credit for.
Brooks kept Red Herring in until the hit the back stretch. He knew Maggie had been a little nervous about becoming the regular rider for Screaming Mimi. Especially after the attack on her yesterday. Mims didn't give him any trouble. She didn't have a fear of men like Cross My Heart did, but she had a good dose of healthy respect. Brooks sang to Red Herring in a cheerful voice, keeping his colt focused on the task at hand rather than the filly trotting a few yards off to the left and behind. Red Herring would have another race in the Burning Blazes Stakes. His main competition for the moment was the only competition that was entered. Dirty Diana had recently faced off with Van Guard, finishing second ahead of his third. The gray filly was out to tackle a bigger race at Green Horse Fields, one Red Herring had been pointed to for months now. The 16.1 hand chestnut had been on a roll in his most recent gallops, really tackling the ground and not wanting to stop. He was ready for his next start. So far no one would be in the race to challenge him for the lead, as Dirty Diana was a closer. Red would certainly take advantage of the situation. He was too good not to.
The lumbering chestnut took up his powerful gallop, lowering his head and flicking his ears about. He pulled at the bit, stretching his shoulders and wanting more rein already. Brooks looked back to see where Maggie was. The woman and her black filly were about two lengths behind having a discussion about manners and how to properly gallop. He grinned. Only Maggie would lecture a filly during a workout. Less talky, more actiony. Maggie glared at him and he turned away, tongue in cheek.
So far Maggie was impressed with Screaming Mimi's daring attitude. She wasn't a slouch. She was out to test Maggie and it was working. The filly didn't want Maggie to touch her when she was galloping. Every time Maggie moved a finger, the filly would bolt to the inside or the outside, at once letting out a squeal or a buck. Maggie shook her head in frustration and simply let the reins slide through her fingers until the filly was cantering with only a pinky in control. Instantly, Mims acted like a different horse. Her pinned ears went up, she began to play, lifting her knees high and constantly changing leads. Maggie raised an eyebrow, touched the reins with her other fingers and the Black Widow picked up speed and refocused, ears pinned. Just a pinky, playful and relaxed Mims came out. Maggie grinned. So the filly was a bit of a contradiction after all. Red Herring was really cruising ahead of them. The chestnut had not had a bad day since he'd started training at Witch Creek. He would get a month off come July, but until then he'd be rocking and rolling like everyone else. Maggie felt like he was the top dirt colt for the classic distances currently at Witch Creek. Her Van Guard had some catching up to do before he could make a similar claim.
Brooks let Red Herring out another notch, feeling the power that emanated beneath him. Red Herring was a top three year old colt and he'd laid the claim pretty quickly. He wasn't a slouch and he had a bit of a rivalry now with Born To Impress from Star Thoroughbreds. Brooks sat chilly on him, letting him set his own pace. He was a good work horse, not a terrific one like Mastermind. He didn't feel the need to challenge himself during his workouts, didn't feel the need to sparkle. He liked to put up a fight, but with his barn rival on vacation, he really didn't have an interest in battling. Brooks glanced under his arm. Maggie and Mims were about three lengths off of them, galloping right along. They seemed to be doing fine together now. It was strange that Brooks didn't get that dreading aura when he looked at Mims, the way he did when he looked at Midtee. Screaming Mimi was a known champion, a known power asset. He wondered if she still had that tremendous two year old talent. Brooks believed it was because Midtee was still a relatively unknown, unproven horse was the reason why he got odd feelings about her. She was still figuring racing out.
Screaming Mimi tossed her head up when she spotted Brooks watching her. Maggie felt the same way. It was as if he was checking to see if they were awake or if she'd fallen asleep at the wheel. What was funny, was that with Mimi, Maggie felt like she could and the jet colored filly would do fine on her own. Mims was settled in and confident. She was handling the dirt track really well, practically skipping over it for such a large sized filly. As they cruised into the homestretch, Screaming Mimi perked up and picked up some speed, but Maggie didn't ask for any more, Mims settled back down to her old confident self, granted one length closer to Red Herring. Brooks didn't move so he must not have noticed.
The three year old and two year old marched back around the bend and into the backstretch, finishing up the mile and a quarter gallop. Neither horse was really tired, which said a lot for Screaming Mimi's ability to hold her fitness. The big black filly was wanting to do more and didn't seem to mind so much distance. She'd been getting out twice for the last three days anyway, once in the morning and once in the evening. She just needed an extra push. Maggie patted the filly's neck and eyed Brooks. Red Herring was tensing up in the back end so the colt must be ready for a run. Maggie sat still in the saddle and waited.
Brooks could feel the Black Widow riding closer now. She was more of the reason for his and Red's tenseness. Red Herring was finally coming to realize that this was not going to be one of his easy workouts without Mastermind. He would actually have to work. He flattened his ears when Brooks let the reins slide through his hands and took off, pushing mightily off of his powerful hind end. He stormed away from the black filly, eyes blazing. He didn't want to be anywhere near her hulking presence. Brooks stayed still after the initial let-go. Red had a very distinctive high cruising speed and he didn't need much more encouragement once he got the idea that he was actually competing.
Maggie tightened up on the reins a little, noting Mim's flying head in response and then loosened, but still maintained both hands on the reins. The black filly burst forward, stretching her legs out to maximum length. She had a very beautiful, very fast stride. She was only three lengths behind Red Herring and he was really cruising. Mims took advantage of her large form and settled into a very controlled pace. She wasn't playing so much as keeping track of Red Herring. The workout was flying by. Neither rider knew how fast they were going, but Ripley, from the sidelines, was shaking her head as they clicked off sub :11 fractions for the first two furlongs.
Red Herring and Screaming Mimi charged around the turn, both carried a little wide by their general size. Maggie was able to get Screaming Mimi readjusted and ready for a burst of run up the rail. Her blue eyes glinted when Red moved over, nearly blocking the gap. Horror formed in her mind briefly, as Screaming Mimi suddenly shot forward like a comet, body heading straight for the slim gap. Maggie held tight, praying Red didn't come in and they didn't go over the dirt rail. She hadn't expected Screaming Mimi to instantly go after the position. She wanted to close her eyes, but the black filly was streaking through the hole in a matter of seconds, brushing against Red's running form. Brooks glanced with surprise at Maggie and then realized what was actually happening.
Maggie should have said Sayonara. Screaming Mimi never slowed down. She was in an all out drive, pushing over the track, dominating and leaving Red Herring in the dust. Screaming Mimi hadn't lost her two year old form even after the minor injuries that had kept her out of action since. She glanced behind her seeing Red Herring being pushed forward now. The four furlongs were up and Mimi cruised under the wire three lengths ahead of Red Herring. Maggie pulled her dominating filly up after the wire, but Red Herring kept going. Brooks pushed him forward with his hands and body. Red Herring was working beyond four furlongs and he wasn't tiring in the least. The blocky, talented two year old hadn't been prepared for that much burst of energy.
Brooks hadn't either. It was his fault for Red's unpreparedness. Next time would be a different matter. Brooks dropped his hands from the colt's neck as they shattered records to get to the sixth furlong of the new addition to the original workout. Red Herring was flying around the turn, body stretched to maximum potential. He was more of a beast than his short workouts allowed for. The longer he went, the faster he got. Brooks raised an eyebrow. Suddenly he knew who the perfect workout partner would be for Midnight Thriller. His big, daring Red Herring was more than ready for the Burning Blaze Stakes. More than ready. Brooks pulled the colt up further up the backstretch and let him complete the track in an easy canter. Maggie and Screaming Mimi were already next to Ripley. Maggie was giving rave reviews about her mount. And Ripley's eyes were blazing with triumph. Only Silver Stride Stables had wanted Screaming Mimi and she was going to make everyone else pay for not showing interest.
Ripley nodded to Brooks. That was a very good idea of yours. He needed to know that he could beat her. We'll never know if he can, but he was sure flying in that six furlong. It was brilliant. We're talking :9 second furlongs. Almost as fast as a quarter horse. Brooks grinned and leaned down to rub his brawny two year old. With experience, Red would be unstoppable.
This was it. The test if $5.5 million had been worth the Crescential x Requiem filly. Brooks, Maggie and Ripley stood side by side at the edge of the dirt track. Their eyes were blazing and excited. The rush to purchase Screaming Mimi had been interesting, especially when news reporters had called and then shown up on Witch Creek's doorstep the next day. It was strange being in the center of attention. Since Frozen Motion had won the Kentucky Open, reporters from the thoroughbred magazines had been calling constantly for an update. Freeze wasn't as available to the public as his arch-rival Infinite Warcry was. Frozen Motion only left the stable grounds on race day. He didn't need to be camera chased on the race track during his preparatory hours. Ripley examined the track, watching as Justin and Connor led the black filly around the track, getting her accustomed to her surroundings before Maggie and Brooks mounted.
Brooks held onto Red Herring's reins, patting the chestnut's neck. The blaze faced colt dipped his head briefly toward Brooks, but immediately returned to the alert position watching Screaming Mimi. The humans also turned their attention to the filly. She was a big sucker. 16.3 hands and only three years old, the Crescential daughter was only smaller than Van Guard. Her black body glinted coldly in the heated sun, a contradiction to the extremely hot day. She pranced between the boys, well into her second circuit around the track. She was on fire today just as she had been since she'd arrived. And not in a good way either. Mims was the toughest filly in the barn now, toughest to work with at least. Though Dazzling Dame and the new yearling Prima Donna could certainly give her a run for her money. The black filly bolted between the two boys, screaming as she did so and practically yanking them out of their shoes. Connor cursed as she dragged them across the track, bucking and launching herself forward forcefully. Justin yelled at Connor for squealing and he jabbed at the lead shank on his side. The filly turned her very expressive head and bared her teeth viciously. Justin yelled at her, spit and she instantly squealed, backing off. She was such a big son of a gun. Her black socks were the only sign of virtue and daylight. The rest of her was fiery and cold at the same time. She was not a nice a filly. Mims cast a challenging look at the three humans along the rail before allowing herself to be tugged in their direction.
You sure you wanted that filly Ripley? She's no Cheeto. Maggie said nervously. Ripley looked at her friend with eager cat-green eyes. Yes I wanted her and she's definitely not a Cheeto. But we need her right now. She'll be awesome later in the year. Ripley clapped her hands together, went to Red Herring and leaned down. She ran cool fingers over the horse's legs, checking for sores or heat. As usual Red was as solid as ever. Brooks would be riding him in the Burning Blaze Stakes at Green Horse Fields next week. The chestnut had been on a roll this year, winning two races and finishing second and third in his other two. He was a very solid purchase from an unknown ranch out west. Ripley grinned when he flattened his ears at her. Such a cantankerous horse. Brooks rubbed a firm hand down Red Herring's massive blaze. Red nodded as if in silent conversation with his regular rider. He refocused quickly though when the boys finally managed to drag a furious Mims over to the gap.
Hey Black Beauty, Maggie crooned. Mims switched her tail over her rump, cast an arrogant gaze in Maggie's direction and then looked toward the track, completely unaffected. Maggie shook her head and eyed Ripley warily. If she kills me, you aren't getting anything. Ripley sent a toothy smile Maggie's way and helped her up into the small racing saddle. Ripley patted Screaming Mimi's shoulder. Mims didn't mind Ripley so much as the other humans. She sent a respectful eye in Ripley's direction, but didn't attempt any savagery. There was mutual respect. Maggie had taken a beating from Mims just yesterday when she was feeding. The black filly knew how to use her body and teeth. A black bruise was blooming on Maggie's upper thigh and it wasn't the most pleasing feeling in the world.
While Ripley helped Brooks fix the saddle on Red Herring, Maggie began to feel the filly out. One word. Solid. That was the only way to describe the equine beneath her. Screaming Mimi was built like a stallion. There was nothing delicate about her, not even her head. She was just so built and so fired up. The second Maggie had settled in the saddle, the Crescential filly had puffed herself up and instantly tensed. She had a fantastically powerful aura about her. It was overwhelming because nothing Maggie rode at the moment so expressed this attitude. It was as if Screaming Mimi wouldn't be controlled once she got under way. Maggie let out a long wary breath and attempted to relax. Screaming Mimi stood as still as an obsidian stone.
Brooks patted Red Herring when he was finally in the saddle. He looked at Ripley, How long today? Ripley had already thought the days workouts out at four in the morning. Reporters had both annoyed and exhilarated her. Make it a mile and a quarter gallop with a four furlong blow out. It'll get Mims back in the grind and prepare Red for his ten furlong race next week. Brooks nodded, took up the reins and asked Red Herring to move onto the track. You ready Maggot? Maggie nodded, asked the filly to step out and she did so without a fight, surprisingly. The instant they were on the loamy soil, both riders asked their horses to move into a trot alongside the outer rail of the track. Red Herring was feeling feisty today. He launched three nearly back breaking bucks and bolted. Used to the playful attitude, Brooks managed to shut him down and rein him in before he got Screaming Mimi wound up or injured himself.
Screaming Mimi did not react at all to Red's burst of energy. She flattened her ears and moved forward, expressively telling Red to keep his distance. The chestnut was more than ready to stay away from the larger and older filly. Red may be a bully to Mastermind and the rest of the two year olds, but he wasn't out to get whooped by the Black Widow, as she'd come to be known at Witch Creek. Maggie dared to run a gentle hand over Screaming Mimi's neck, breathing a sigh of relief when the filly kept her eyes forward. She didn't threaten to break into a faster gait. Nothing. She was quiet and collected, very calculating. Maggie thought that maybe this workout wouldn't be so bad after all. Maybe their partnership would be better than she'd given the filly credit for.
Brooks kept Red Herring in until the hit the back stretch. He knew Maggie had been a little nervous about becoming the regular rider for Screaming Mimi. Especially after the attack on her yesterday. Mims didn't give him any trouble. She didn't have a fear of men like Cross My Heart did, but she had a good dose of healthy respect. Brooks sang to Red Herring in a cheerful voice, keeping his colt focused on the task at hand rather than the filly trotting a few yards off to the left and behind. Red Herring would have another race in the Burning Blazes Stakes. His main competition for the moment was the only competition that was entered. Dirty Diana had recently faced off with Van Guard, finishing second ahead of his third. The gray filly was out to tackle a bigger race at Green Horse Fields, one Red Herring had been pointed to for months now. The 16.1 hand chestnut had been on a roll in his most recent gallops, really tackling the ground and not wanting to stop. He was ready for his next start. So far no one would be in the race to challenge him for the lead, as Dirty Diana was a closer. Red would certainly take advantage of the situation. He was too good not to.
The lumbering chestnut took up his powerful gallop, lowering his head and flicking his ears about. He pulled at the bit, stretching his shoulders and wanting more rein already. Brooks looked back to see where Maggie was. The woman and her black filly were about two lengths behind having a discussion about manners and how to properly gallop. He grinned. Only Maggie would lecture a filly during a workout. Less talky, more actiony. Maggie glared at him and he turned away, tongue in cheek.
So far Maggie was impressed with Screaming Mimi's daring attitude. She wasn't a slouch. She was out to test Maggie and it was working. The filly didn't want Maggie to touch her when she was galloping. Every time Maggie moved a finger, the filly would bolt to the inside or the outside, at once letting out a squeal or a buck. Maggie shook her head in frustration and simply let the reins slide through her fingers until the filly was cantering with only a pinky in control. Instantly, Mims acted like a different horse. Her pinned ears went up, she began to play, lifting her knees high and constantly changing leads. Maggie raised an eyebrow, touched the reins with her other fingers and the Black Widow picked up speed and refocused, ears pinned. Just a pinky, playful and relaxed Mims came out. Maggie grinned. So the filly was a bit of a contradiction after all. Red Herring was really cruising ahead of them. The chestnut had not had a bad day since he'd started training at Witch Creek. He would get a month off come July, but until then he'd be rocking and rolling like everyone else. Maggie felt like he was the top dirt colt for the classic distances currently at Witch Creek. Her Van Guard had some catching up to do before he could make a similar claim.
Brooks let Red Herring out another notch, feeling the power that emanated beneath him. Red Herring was a top three year old colt and he'd laid the claim pretty quickly. He wasn't a slouch and he had a bit of a rivalry now with Born To Impress from Star Thoroughbreds. Brooks sat chilly on him, letting him set his own pace. He was a good work horse, not a terrific one like Mastermind. He didn't feel the need to challenge himself during his workouts, didn't feel the need to sparkle. He liked to put up a fight, but with his barn rival on vacation, he really didn't have an interest in battling. Brooks glanced under his arm. Maggie and Mims were about three lengths off of them, galloping right along. They seemed to be doing fine together now. It was strange that Brooks didn't get that dreading aura when he looked at Mims, the way he did when he looked at Midtee. Screaming Mimi was a known champion, a known power asset. He wondered if she still had that tremendous two year old talent. Brooks believed it was because Midtee was still a relatively unknown, unproven horse was the reason why he got odd feelings about her. She was still figuring racing out.
Screaming Mimi tossed her head up when she spotted Brooks watching her. Maggie felt the same way. It was as if he was checking to see if they were awake or if she'd fallen asleep at the wheel. What was funny, was that with Mimi, Maggie felt like she could and the jet colored filly would do fine on her own. Mims was settled in and confident. She was handling the dirt track really well, practically skipping over it for such a large sized filly. As they cruised into the homestretch, Screaming Mimi perked up and picked up some speed, but Maggie didn't ask for any more, Mims settled back down to her old confident self, granted one length closer to Red Herring. Brooks didn't move so he must not have noticed.
The three year old and two year old marched back around the bend and into the backstretch, finishing up the mile and a quarter gallop. Neither horse was really tired, which said a lot for Screaming Mimi's ability to hold her fitness. The big black filly was wanting to do more and didn't seem to mind so much distance. She'd been getting out twice for the last three days anyway, once in the morning and once in the evening. She just needed an extra push. Maggie patted the filly's neck and eyed Brooks. Red Herring was tensing up in the back end so the colt must be ready for a run. Maggie sat still in the saddle and waited.
Brooks could feel the Black Widow riding closer now. She was more of the reason for his and Red's tenseness. Red Herring was finally coming to realize that this was not going to be one of his easy workouts without Mastermind. He would actually have to work. He flattened his ears when Brooks let the reins slide through his hands and took off, pushing mightily off of his powerful hind end. He stormed away from the black filly, eyes blazing. He didn't want to be anywhere near her hulking presence. Brooks stayed still after the initial let-go. Red had a very distinctive high cruising speed and he didn't need much more encouragement once he got the idea that he was actually competing.
Maggie tightened up on the reins a little, noting Mim's flying head in response and then loosened, but still maintained both hands on the reins. The black filly burst forward, stretching her legs out to maximum length. She had a very beautiful, very fast stride. She was only three lengths behind Red Herring and he was really cruising. Mims took advantage of her large form and settled into a very controlled pace. She wasn't playing so much as keeping track of Red Herring. The workout was flying by. Neither rider knew how fast they were going, but Ripley, from the sidelines, was shaking her head as they clicked off sub :11 fractions for the first two furlongs.
Red Herring and Screaming Mimi charged around the turn, both carried a little wide by their general size. Maggie was able to get Screaming Mimi readjusted and ready for a burst of run up the rail. Her blue eyes glinted when Red moved over, nearly blocking the gap. Horror formed in her mind briefly, as Screaming Mimi suddenly shot forward like a comet, body heading straight for the slim gap. Maggie held tight, praying Red didn't come in and they didn't go over the dirt rail. She hadn't expected Screaming Mimi to instantly go after the position. She wanted to close her eyes, but the black filly was streaking through the hole in a matter of seconds, brushing against Red's running form. Brooks glanced with surprise at Maggie and then realized what was actually happening.
Maggie should have said Sayonara. Screaming Mimi never slowed down. She was in an all out drive, pushing over the track, dominating and leaving Red Herring in the dust. Screaming Mimi hadn't lost her two year old form even after the minor injuries that had kept her out of action since. She glanced behind her seeing Red Herring being pushed forward now. The four furlongs were up and Mimi cruised under the wire three lengths ahead of Red Herring. Maggie pulled her dominating filly up after the wire, but Red Herring kept going. Brooks pushed him forward with his hands and body. Red Herring was working beyond four furlongs and he wasn't tiring in the least. The blocky, talented two year old hadn't been prepared for that much burst of energy.
Brooks hadn't either. It was his fault for Red's unpreparedness. Next time would be a different matter. Brooks dropped his hands from the colt's neck as they shattered records to get to the sixth furlong of the new addition to the original workout. Red Herring was flying around the turn, body stretched to maximum potential. He was more of a beast than his short workouts allowed for. The longer he went, the faster he got. Brooks raised an eyebrow. Suddenly he knew who the perfect workout partner would be for Midnight Thriller. His big, daring Red Herring was more than ready for the Burning Blaze Stakes. More than ready. Brooks pulled the colt up further up the backstretch and let him complete the track in an easy canter. Maggie and Screaming Mimi were already next to Ripley. Maggie was giving rave reviews about her mount. And Ripley's eyes were blazing with triumph. Only Silver Stride Stables had wanted Screaming Mimi and she was going to make everyone else pay for not showing interest.
Ripley nodded to Brooks. That was a very good idea of yours. He needed to know that he could beat her. We'll never know if he can, but he was sure flying in that six furlong. It was brilliant. We're talking :9 second furlongs. Almost as fast as a quarter horse. Brooks grinned and leaned down to rub his brawny two year old. With experience, Red would be unstoppable.
cross and crown
Courtesy of Allison L. Janezic.
The last workout of the day would be the quickest run. It always was this way, no matter what. It was always Cross My Heart that caused the workout to be run the quickest. The black filly with the glorious white star just had this nature about her that always ended up in a dog-fighting supreme run. The filly had yet to place out of the top two in her races and each time, she'd only missed by a nose. Cross was not the most established, most loved horse, but how could you not take note of a filly who gave it her all in one race, leaving it all on the track and still had enough energy for the next race. She had plenty of time between races to gather her resources if she needed to, but it wasn't necessary. Like Frozen Motion, Cross rebounded faster than any other horses in the barn. She just had a wild nature, the nature to be ready for anything that comes at you.
GS Royal Crown had needed a few days off after the Nacelle Stakes, his first race against a field that had turned out to be a lot more competitive than Ripley Marsh had originally planned for. It was her own fault and Maggie's fault for letting him run against such a harsh field first time out. As a result, the beautiful gray colt was returning back to the two year old ranks to make some noise. His next start would be In The Follow The Hoof Prints Turf, a new race series, designed specifically for two year olds. Unfortunately, most of Witch Creek's other runners were either on vacation, injured or were being pointed for other races. Crow was the only one going and was facing three other horses in Intrepid Racing Inc.'s Livin' The Jazz and Bowen Acres Stable's GS Super Charged and Calamity Queen from Star Thoroughbreds. Livin' The Jazz was a closer and for the most part, unless another horse was entered, so was GS Royal Crown. GS Super Charged, a ridiculously overpriced two year old bay by TC champ Admiral's Revenge, was in the race as well. Ripley had gone on rants that SOPS had been nuts to offer so much for the colt. How a relatively unused colt could go for nearly a billion dollars and a whole shelf of reserves was beyond Ripley. Maggie shook her head, back to the point. The Bowen Acres colt was also a closer. Calamity Queen was a front runner by Touch Up and out of Royal Assault. Luckily, Crow wouldn't mind settling in second for most of the race behind Calamity Queen. He was geared to do so in case not many others showed up. The last part of the turf race would be quick, just as always. Crow would know that the homestretch was the time that you picked up the most speed. He wouldn't miss an opportunity to establish himself as a colt to watch. Maggie and Ripley sat aboard the filly and colt just outside of the turf track. The bay and gray were quiet and beautiful against the back drop of emerald green grass.
Cross was also training for a race, but it would not occur until Week Four of May. She had time and at the moment, no other horses were signed up for the race. After this workout, which would simulate racing conditions, Cross would merely gallop two miles every day until the sprint race at the end of the month. The filly didn't need that much conditioning and with her original workout partner, Bella Luna, on vacation, Crow would stand in as her workmate. The filly was actually quite taken with the elegant Sea Struck colt. She would constantly press her nose into his side, whuffle her lips over his frame, sigh. He took it as if her right to touch him was naturally expected. He was a true male. Maggie patted her colt's shoulders and neck, relaxing into him. This workout was always the best. Cross brought out the most fun in Ripley and Maggie really was enjoying her opportunity to work with the steel gray colt. He was a pleasure to ride, though bratty in the barn. It was a wonderful contradiction.
How long you want today Ripley? Ripley patted Cross's neck and picked up a jog. We're going to simulate racing conditions. A brief canter for a half-mile and then a six furlong workout. These two don't need foundation right now. They need a wake up call. Maggie grinned excitedly. She loved these workouts, only because for Ripley, they were so unusual. Other barns mainly focused on speed, speed and more speed. Ripley focused on stamina, stamina and more stamina. Usually Ripley's way worked out better. Maggie rubbed her hands together over Crow's reins and followed Ripley and her sharp black filly up the first hill. The pair of horses worked well together. Cross was enjoying the change. Ripley could feel the filly's move beautifully beneath her sparkling black hide. She was relaxed today, so different from the initial animal. It was because Ripley had added male clothing to the filly's stall. Now that she was used to the male scent, she wasn't so flustered and nervous when Brooks or Justin entered the barn. She was calm and quiet. She still needed the end stall, away from most of the action, but she wasn't screaming anymore. Thank God.
Cross My Heart was a stunning filly to ride. She had so much fire inside of her for such a small, delicate filly. She burned with an inner rage when she raced. She hated to lose and though she had lost two races since her maiden victory, Cross was still fighting along, still causing problems for every front runner she faced. She tired horses out and never lost a pound, never not finished eating her grain. She was the perfect workmate for Crow. He needed a runner to keep up with him. Maggie slapped her vibrant colt's neck as they cantered down the side of the hill. GS Royal Crown was full of energy, a hurricane beneath all of this dark gray hide. He rode like a horse who had so much speed to give and to share. He felt like he was on the brink being a run away train, but he never did break. He allowed Maggie to control him, making him a very useful horse when it came to race time. He was pumped up ever, becoming more so as the gallop became longer and Cross showed the potential for the dog fight.
The pair cruised over the terrain, stretching their legs out to full capabilities, enjoying the feeling of adrenaline coursing through their veins. Cross and Ripley maintained a short lead as they marched up another hill, Cross' black legs flew beneath her, exaggerating the fact that she was a very, very impressive runner. Her four races to date had nearly broken records. It would be said that the black filly was the fastest horse on Witch Creek property at the moment. Mastermind cruised too easy and listened too well in order to break records. Cross on the other hand was barely controllable. She raced the way she wanted and usually that was how Ripley wanted the filly to run. There could be no disagreement. Cross was a confirmed front runner and that was that.
Maggie perched politely over Crow's dramatic frame. The gray just had this stunningly quick aura around him, as though he were a rocket in disguise. Maggie barely moved... ever. The guy was dramatic in his run, dramatic in his self-image. He was the brattiest, girliest colt. He loved being the center of attention and flashed his ears all the way back into his mane when Ripley praised Cross. Maggie laughed and gave the selfish colt a loving pat. He immediately perked back up and again settled into his elegant stride. She couldn't help but smile. He was a true character. Maggie guided the colt backwards and behind Cross as they drove up the next hill. The half mile ended at the top of the slope. Cross would gun it. Crow would stay back and then dog fight later. It was no use. You couldn't dog fight with the top dog. It created problems and hurt feelings.
The wind whistled through Ripley's ears as Cross bolted at the top of the hill. She read Ripley's mind so perfectly sometime that it creeped the woman out. The black filly surged forward along the flatter top and then suddenly dropped her speed to pick her way down the hill. Cross was not dynamic. She was a straight forward, balls-to-the-wall, kind of equine. She did nothing less than fast. Ripley could barely breath as they streaked into a bit of a stretch. Her filly just stole the air from her lungs. It was a terrible feeling, but what a blast to ride. She glanced beneath her arm and spotted Maggie. The blonde was having no trouble at all with Crown. The gray cruised over the ground in big bounding leaps. He was not a large colt, but his larger than life personality made up for it.
She couldn't believe how nice he rode. He flew and was contained at the same time. He didn't pull or attempt to bolt after his new work-mate. He stayed calm and confident and did his own thing. If Maggie wriggled her fingers, his steely ears pinned back and he nearly launched her in back of the saddle. A light tap on the reins had him returning to fluid control. She snorted. No way was Ripley getting away with a romping workout this time. The blonde woman, narrowed her eyes between her two year old's ears and sighted Cross. The black filly was poetry in motion, gorgeous and a fighter. Her ears were searching for Crow. Maggie could feel it, as though the filly had eyes in the back of her beautifully savage head. She would have a fight in her today.
The pair blasted through the first four furlongs of the workout. Cross four lengths in front of her more comfortable workmate. The filly was a dominating personality. She burned and blistered a clumpy grass path in her wake. A knight's slim ceremonial mount. Ripley rode her confidently. She knew the capabilities of her filly and knew that Maggie would be flicking the switch soon on Crow. The problem with Cross, is that the black filly always had a target on her back. Lucky for Ripley, there were no harder or grittier characters out on the track, at Green Horse Fields or The Wire. There was no dog-fighter. It was only a matter of time before Cross started putting everything together and coming away with the victory.
GS Royal Crown flicked his ears back at Maggie when let out a cluck. He tensed right up, waiting for Maggie to take light control. When she didn't he pinned his ears and tapped into another gear. Maggie grimaced. There was no sneak attack to this horse. She could tell by Ripley's back bracing, that GS Royal Crown had alerted her to the run. He wasn't exactly quiet as a mouse. But Ripley made no other moves on Cross and withing seven seconds, Crow was at Cross's throat latch. He hadn't expected it to take so long to catch up with the filly. Maggie could feel the surprise light through him. Cross was a very fast, very stamina oriented filly. She didn't tire in sprint races. Not at all. She was matched perfectly for them.
Cross' eyes blazed that hideous red when she caught sight of Crow on her left. She was angered so much that she instantly picked up another gear, causing Crow to fall back at her haunches. He let out a furious squeal and pushed off as well, back at her throat latch. Cross tried it again, but this time GS Royal Crown was settled in with her, had her measured. He still couldn't by her. She egged him on with those bolts she called eyes. He egged her on with his constant presence. Twin tornadoes of black and gray that spurred each other up the hill and over at this brutal pace. Maggie and Ripley had no control at this point. Ripley especially. Cross wasn't interested in losing again. She was furious and ready to roll! Crown didn't want to lose either. He'd taken a beaten last week, but he was back and better than ever.
As the pair stormed into the final furlong, the riders could feel the enigmatic storm brewing. Both horses were going to put up a grand fight in their next races. For Cross it was going to be for blood, for Crow just the feeling of beating someone else would do. Ripley and Maggie grinned. Maggie stopped her mount easily. Cross kept going until she was satisfied Crow was well-beaten. She stopped, looked back over the turf, mane whipping in the dramatic wind. Crown did the same a little ways back, lifting his head and sniffing. He eyed the filly and cast his challenge back. She squealed and let out an impromptu buck, tossing her head. Oh yes... A storm was definitely brewing.
GS Royal Crown had needed a few days off after the Nacelle Stakes, his first race against a field that had turned out to be a lot more competitive than Ripley Marsh had originally planned for. It was her own fault and Maggie's fault for letting him run against such a harsh field first time out. As a result, the beautiful gray colt was returning back to the two year old ranks to make some noise. His next start would be In The Follow The Hoof Prints Turf, a new race series, designed specifically for two year olds. Unfortunately, most of Witch Creek's other runners were either on vacation, injured or were being pointed for other races. Crow was the only one going and was facing three other horses in Intrepid Racing Inc.'s Livin' The Jazz and Bowen Acres Stable's GS Super Charged and Calamity Queen from Star Thoroughbreds. Livin' The Jazz was a closer and for the most part, unless another horse was entered, so was GS Royal Crown. GS Super Charged, a ridiculously overpriced two year old bay by TC champ Admiral's Revenge, was in the race as well. Ripley had gone on rants that SOPS had been nuts to offer so much for the colt. How a relatively unused colt could go for nearly a billion dollars and a whole shelf of reserves was beyond Ripley. Maggie shook her head, back to the point. The Bowen Acres colt was also a closer. Calamity Queen was a front runner by Touch Up and out of Royal Assault. Luckily, Crow wouldn't mind settling in second for most of the race behind Calamity Queen. He was geared to do so in case not many others showed up. The last part of the turf race would be quick, just as always. Crow would know that the homestretch was the time that you picked up the most speed. He wouldn't miss an opportunity to establish himself as a colt to watch. Maggie and Ripley sat aboard the filly and colt just outside of the turf track. The bay and gray were quiet and beautiful against the back drop of emerald green grass.
Cross was also training for a race, but it would not occur until Week Four of May. She had time and at the moment, no other horses were signed up for the race. After this workout, which would simulate racing conditions, Cross would merely gallop two miles every day until the sprint race at the end of the month. The filly didn't need that much conditioning and with her original workout partner, Bella Luna, on vacation, Crow would stand in as her workmate. The filly was actually quite taken with the elegant Sea Struck colt. She would constantly press her nose into his side, whuffle her lips over his frame, sigh. He took it as if her right to touch him was naturally expected. He was a true male. Maggie patted her colt's shoulders and neck, relaxing into him. This workout was always the best. Cross brought out the most fun in Ripley and Maggie really was enjoying her opportunity to work with the steel gray colt. He was a pleasure to ride, though bratty in the barn. It was a wonderful contradiction.
How long you want today Ripley? Ripley patted Cross's neck and picked up a jog. We're going to simulate racing conditions. A brief canter for a half-mile and then a six furlong workout. These two don't need foundation right now. They need a wake up call. Maggie grinned excitedly. She loved these workouts, only because for Ripley, they were so unusual. Other barns mainly focused on speed, speed and more speed. Ripley focused on stamina, stamina and more stamina. Usually Ripley's way worked out better. Maggie rubbed her hands together over Crow's reins and followed Ripley and her sharp black filly up the first hill. The pair of horses worked well together. Cross was enjoying the change. Ripley could feel the filly's move beautifully beneath her sparkling black hide. She was relaxed today, so different from the initial animal. It was because Ripley had added male clothing to the filly's stall. Now that she was used to the male scent, she wasn't so flustered and nervous when Brooks or Justin entered the barn. She was calm and quiet. She still needed the end stall, away from most of the action, but she wasn't screaming anymore. Thank God.
Cross My Heart was a stunning filly to ride. She had so much fire inside of her for such a small, delicate filly. She burned with an inner rage when she raced. She hated to lose and though she had lost two races since her maiden victory, Cross was still fighting along, still causing problems for every front runner she faced. She tired horses out and never lost a pound, never not finished eating her grain. She was the perfect workmate for Crow. He needed a runner to keep up with him. Maggie slapped her vibrant colt's neck as they cantered down the side of the hill. GS Royal Crown was full of energy, a hurricane beneath all of this dark gray hide. He rode like a horse who had so much speed to give and to share. He felt like he was on the brink being a run away train, but he never did break. He allowed Maggie to control him, making him a very useful horse when it came to race time. He was pumped up ever, becoming more so as the gallop became longer and Cross showed the potential for the dog fight.
The pair cruised over the terrain, stretching their legs out to full capabilities, enjoying the feeling of adrenaline coursing through their veins. Cross and Ripley maintained a short lead as they marched up another hill, Cross' black legs flew beneath her, exaggerating the fact that she was a very, very impressive runner. Her four races to date had nearly broken records. It would be said that the black filly was the fastest horse on Witch Creek property at the moment. Mastermind cruised too easy and listened too well in order to break records. Cross on the other hand was barely controllable. She raced the way she wanted and usually that was how Ripley wanted the filly to run. There could be no disagreement. Cross was a confirmed front runner and that was that.
Maggie perched politely over Crow's dramatic frame. The gray just had this stunningly quick aura around him, as though he were a rocket in disguise. Maggie barely moved... ever. The guy was dramatic in his run, dramatic in his self-image. He was the brattiest, girliest colt. He loved being the center of attention and flashed his ears all the way back into his mane when Ripley praised Cross. Maggie laughed and gave the selfish colt a loving pat. He immediately perked back up and again settled into his elegant stride. She couldn't help but smile. He was a true character. Maggie guided the colt backwards and behind Cross as they drove up the next hill. The half mile ended at the top of the slope. Cross would gun it. Crow would stay back and then dog fight later. It was no use. You couldn't dog fight with the top dog. It created problems and hurt feelings.
The wind whistled through Ripley's ears as Cross bolted at the top of the hill. She read Ripley's mind so perfectly sometime that it creeped the woman out. The black filly surged forward along the flatter top and then suddenly dropped her speed to pick her way down the hill. Cross was not dynamic. She was a straight forward, balls-to-the-wall, kind of equine. She did nothing less than fast. Ripley could barely breath as they streaked into a bit of a stretch. Her filly just stole the air from her lungs. It was a terrible feeling, but what a blast to ride. She glanced beneath her arm and spotted Maggie. The blonde was having no trouble at all with Crown. The gray cruised over the ground in big bounding leaps. He was not a large colt, but his larger than life personality made up for it.
She couldn't believe how nice he rode. He flew and was contained at the same time. He didn't pull or attempt to bolt after his new work-mate. He stayed calm and confident and did his own thing. If Maggie wriggled her fingers, his steely ears pinned back and he nearly launched her in back of the saddle. A light tap on the reins had him returning to fluid control. She snorted. No way was Ripley getting away with a romping workout this time. The blonde woman, narrowed her eyes between her two year old's ears and sighted Cross. The black filly was poetry in motion, gorgeous and a fighter. Her ears were searching for Crow. Maggie could feel it, as though the filly had eyes in the back of her beautifully savage head. She would have a fight in her today.
The pair blasted through the first four furlongs of the workout. Cross four lengths in front of her more comfortable workmate. The filly was a dominating personality. She burned and blistered a clumpy grass path in her wake. A knight's slim ceremonial mount. Ripley rode her confidently. She knew the capabilities of her filly and knew that Maggie would be flicking the switch soon on Crow. The problem with Cross, is that the black filly always had a target on her back. Lucky for Ripley, there were no harder or grittier characters out on the track, at Green Horse Fields or The Wire. There was no dog-fighter. It was only a matter of time before Cross started putting everything together and coming away with the victory.
GS Royal Crown flicked his ears back at Maggie when let out a cluck. He tensed right up, waiting for Maggie to take light control. When she didn't he pinned his ears and tapped into another gear. Maggie grimaced. There was no sneak attack to this horse. She could tell by Ripley's back bracing, that GS Royal Crown had alerted her to the run. He wasn't exactly quiet as a mouse. But Ripley made no other moves on Cross and withing seven seconds, Crow was at Cross's throat latch. He hadn't expected it to take so long to catch up with the filly. Maggie could feel the surprise light through him. Cross was a very fast, very stamina oriented filly. She didn't tire in sprint races. Not at all. She was matched perfectly for them.
Cross' eyes blazed that hideous red when she caught sight of Crow on her left. She was angered so much that she instantly picked up another gear, causing Crow to fall back at her haunches. He let out a furious squeal and pushed off as well, back at her throat latch. Cross tried it again, but this time GS Royal Crown was settled in with her, had her measured. He still couldn't by her. She egged him on with those bolts she called eyes. He egged her on with his constant presence. Twin tornadoes of black and gray that spurred each other up the hill and over at this brutal pace. Maggie and Ripley had no control at this point. Ripley especially. Cross wasn't interested in losing again. She was furious and ready to roll! Crown didn't want to lose either. He'd taken a beaten last week, but he was back and better than ever.
As the pair stormed into the final furlong, the riders could feel the enigmatic storm brewing. Both horses were going to put up a grand fight in their next races. For Cross it was going to be for blood, for Crow just the feeling of beating someone else would do. Ripley and Maggie grinned. Maggie stopped her mount easily. Cross kept going until she was satisfied Crow was well-beaten. She stopped, looked back over the turf, mane whipping in the dramatic wind. Crown did the same a little ways back, lifting his head and sniffing. He eyed the filly and cast his challenge back. She squealed and let out an impromptu buck, tossing her head. Oh yes... A storm was definitely brewing.