sound the bugle
Ripley Marsh was more than excited for this next week of races. Two of her horses would be contesting the biggest invitationals of the year, another would be trying to avenge a loss from last year in the Beverly D, and two others were preparing for the Dubai World Cup and World Turf Cup to be held next week. Excited didn't even cover it. Ripley practically bounced out of her toes from her position in the raised observation deck inside the synthetic pantheon. Her green eyes flickered with an undying fire as three horses entered into her technological genius.
Two dark bay mares and a stunning dappled gray stallion barely noted their trainer from the sidelines. Dazzling Dame's burly frame moved with high-energy, forelegs raising off of the ground, eyes flat to her head and eyes blazing with barely controlled excitement. Her rider was a burr upon her back. Dazzling Dame would contest her second to last race of her career in the Beverly D. She was training better than she ever had and looked to be a mighty tough competitor for those awaiting her in the starting gate. Ripley could not have been more proud of the Jessie James mare than she was right now.
Calamity Queen prowled over the course, head held proud and high. Her hooves barely seemed to make a sound as she strutted over the synthetic track. The Touch Up daughter's muscles roiled with barely suppressed power. She would not race again until the Breeders Cup where she would face off with her own stablemate Whipped Cream and the best turf mares and fillies the country had to offer. Ripley was quietly confident with this particular horse. She'd been training beautifully ever since her arrival and if anything, her condition was only increasing in the recent weeks. Maggie patted the filly's sturdy neck, eyes gleaming with happiness. She had a mount to carry her into the Breeders Cup championships. Turf had been Maggie's starting point and she would love to finish off what had been an incredible season aboard the daughter of her formerly prized mount.
Where triumph and confidence existed in Justin and Maggie, Brooks could only feel the impending dread that would be his separation from Frozen Motion. He sat in an untouchable silence, barely acknowledging the other riders. All he could feel was the chasm that would start to develop upon the completion of the Breeders Cup Mile. His blue eyes filled with emotion, Brooks ran a hand down the perfectly trimmed mane of the Spitz stallion. They had come so far since their partnership last winter. Wins in two of the Turf Triple Crown races, powerful victories in the Rose Mile Cup and a simply stunning four year old season, had left Brookson with more memories than he could even count. The dappled gray horse was coming into the Tropical Rainforest Invitational off of the the two best performances of his career in the Cox Plate and Caulfield Cup. Victory was not a given at any point in time, but Brooks could not help feeling tremendously confident in his iron horse. He nudged the gray into a canter after his more volatile stable-mates. Freeze snorted, bowing his neck so that his chin touched his chest. Power laced his muscles and Brooks sighed. He could only enjoy these last few workouts and races.
Ripley could see the wave of emotion crashing down upon her assistant trainer. She'd experienced these very same emotions with El Sol del Mar, but under different circumstances. She had not known upon riding in El Sol del Mar's last race that it would be the end. Injury had stolen the Hall of Fame mare from her before she'd reached her prime. She waved at the riders who hand-cantered past on snorting, proud thoroughbreds. She spoke through the mic that was pinned to her chest. All of them look fantastic guys. A mile and a quarter gallop with a five furlong workout will do. Maggie's voice crackled over the speakers, You got it boss lady. Justin flashed the thumbs up on the first turn. Brooks remained motionless in the saddle, barely giving any indication that he heard. Ripley spoke then, emotion causing her voice to stagger, You've got memories left to create with him, Brooks. He's done more for you in two years than most horses do for people in their entire lifetime. Brooks' shoulders relaxed slightly as the horses cruised into the backstretch for the first round. Ripley nodded in satisfaction.
Strength whipped up through the reins when Maggie asked Calamity Queen to pick it up a notch. The powerful bay filly bolted alongside the rail, legs sweeping with ferociousness over the course. She took over the lead from Dazzling Dame and set a brisk pace going into the far turn. Her blinkered-head was level to her shoulders which swelled powerfully with every grand stride she took. The filly was really coming into her own and Maggie wondered if Calamity Queen might be the biggest threat to Bella Luna and Italian Ice in Year Fourteen. She was not a slouch, but a filly that required time to reach full maturity. Maggie perched over her withers, blue eyes glittering with contentment. They would take it to Dazzling Dame and Frozen Motion right off the bat.
Frozen Motion was not one to rest on his laurels. While his rider mulled over the past, Freeze immediately took up the chase after Calamity Queen. He rolled up the outside of Dazzling Dame, not slowing down for a moment before pressing on to Calamity Queen's haunches. His eyes were lit up with confidence as he rolled up to her outside. The stallion handled the far turn with ease, gliding where Calamity Queen and Dazzling Dame were forced to muscle it. He stayed at her haunches, happy with the pace the younger filly was setting. Freeze had turned into a stalking king of impressive proportions. He was not speed crazed as he had been upon his arrival as a three year old. Mellowing out had turned Frozen Motion into the top competitor for all turf horses.
Justin allowed Dazzling Dame to stride out until she was happy with her own pace. Like Frozen Motion, Dazzling Dame was finally becoming a queen of her division. She moved so powerfully and with such confidence that Justin felt like he could ask her at any time to throw down the gauntlet. Her ears were pricked on the speedy Calamity Queen and the long-striding Frozen Motion. She did not beg for more rein, but simply cruised along two lengths behind them. Her game would come later, the game which she thrived at. She was the cat and they were the mice. All of her competitors had been mice for Dazzling Dame and Justin Santiago. They'd caught half of them this season, but half had escaped. It was crunch time now. Dazzling Dame would be locked and loaded for the final two performances of her outstanding career.
Calamity Queen lead the run into the first turn again, ears flapping up and down over her dark skull. Her eyes blazed at the pressure that Freeze was applying to her outside hip. The reins were taunt as Maggie urged the filly to settle down and to ignore the competitive pressure. It went against the grain for the stout filly, but it had gone against the grain for Frozen Motion as well. He'd turned into a champion. Maggie talked to Calamity Queen, murmuring words into her ears, grinning when the filly settled down slightly. Slightly was good enough for the moment.
Brooks could not hold back the smile now. Frozen Motion acted like he was strolling in the park beside the hard-trying filly. He was so unflappable in the face of competition these days, so mentally and physically tough. The filly bounced her hip off of his shoulder in an attempt to dislodge the pressure, but Freeze remained strong, reflecting the physicality with only a turned ear to listen to Brooks. The man crouched close to his mounts long neck, eyes blazing with competitive fire and all thoughts turned away from retirement. Freeze remained three-quarters of a length behind Calamity Queen, but Brooks had no doubt the horse would have enough to run by her at the end. The mile and a quarter was up in a flash of hooves. Brooks glanced under his arm, looking for Dazzling Dame. The hulking mare would be coming soon.
Justin spotted the quick movement of Brooks turning to see where Dame was at. Don't worry, Brooky. We'll be on our way shortly. The murmur was just enough to drag Dazzling Dame from the depths of her contemplation. Her ears slammed against the back of her head, teeth wrapped around the bit. Justin felt himself being dragged from the saddle as Dazzling Dame commenced her bid. The mare had gotten to deciding her own moves. Justin was more than happy to let her go on. His mare always had enough stamina to keep going no matter the remaining distance. Her ominous strides echoed through the pantheon as she bore down upon Calamity Queen and Frozen Motion. A desperate slash of reins had Dame flicking her forelegs over Freeze's rear hooves. It was a very athletic feat for such a roundly muscled mare. She whipped up to his outside, eyes blazing with fury.
Calamity Queen was feeling the pressure now as the trio stormed down the late backstretch. Her ears were pinned, but she ran unrelentingly. The attack was a powerful one that a lesser horse might have given in to. She had Touch Up blood and therefore, defeat was simply unacceptable. She barreled into the turn, hooves cutting sharply through the synthetic. Her muscled frame bore out on the turn, sandwiching Frozen Motion in between herself and the explosive Dazzling Dame. The stallion did not back off. He pressed on between the two mares, ears pinned and teeth gritted. Brooks shook the reins the moment a little daylight opened up on either side and set the stallion up for the drive. He burst through the hole, launching into the lead off of the turn.
Calamity Queen and Dazzling Dame were in chase mode now. The greyhound had given them the slip. Calamity Queen remained locked on the rail, skimming Maggie's iron off of the metal. Maggie leaned close, noting the growing distance between Freeze and the two mares. The dappled gray stallion was really pouring it on today. It was time to ask Calamity Queen to hunt him down. Maggie shook the reins at the stout filly, cackling when she shot up the rail like a comet. What a saucy filly this one was.
The horses stormed down the racetrack, hooves beating into the newly renovated surface. Freeze held a length and a half advantage, but it was diminishing from the outside. Justin threw the reins down at Dazzling Dame's neck, shouting at her for a move. The Jessie James mare roared forward, black mane and tail whipping out behind her like a cape. She poured on the speed, immediately gathering Frozen Motion's attention. Her head was at his haunches, then his barrel and finally his shoulder. The wire rolled closer, now out two hundred yards. Crunch time had arrived.
Calamity Queen joined them across the track, finally getting a break along the rail. Freeze was now locked in the middle again, but like before he was not backing down. The horses plunged over the track, fighting one another for the victory, that thrilling finish. As though they were one, Dazzling Dame and Calamity Queen commenced a final assault on the grey ghost. They barreled up to his throat latch, but the gray horse was not done. He streaked under the wire a head in front before the mares pinched him back. He bowed his neck, snorting through his nostrils. Brooks patted his neck, eyes glazed with pride. There was no horse like Frozen Motion. There never would be another horse like Freeze again for Brookson Wells.
Dame pulled up, eyes full of irritation and loathing for the grey horse. She clacked her teeth in the dappled stud's direction, threatened a kick. Calamity Queen poured it on up the track, powerfully galloping out. One day her day would come. She would have her moment in the sun.
Two dark bay mares and a stunning dappled gray stallion barely noted their trainer from the sidelines. Dazzling Dame's burly frame moved with high-energy, forelegs raising off of the ground, eyes flat to her head and eyes blazing with barely controlled excitement. Her rider was a burr upon her back. Dazzling Dame would contest her second to last race of her career in the Beverly D. She was training better than she ever had and looked to be a mighty tough competitor for those awaiting her in the starting gate. Ripley could not have been more proud of the Jessie James mare than she was right now.
Calamity Queen prowled over the course, head held proud and high. Her hooves barely seemed to make a sound as she strutted over the synthetic track. The Touch Up daughter's muscles roiled with barely suppressed power. She would not race again until the Breeders Cup where she would face off with her own stablemate Whipped Cream and the best turf mares and fillies the country had to offer. Ripley was quietly confident with this particular horse. She'd been training beautifully ever since her arrival and if anything, her condition was only increasing in the recent weeks. Maggie patted the filly's sturdy neck, eyes gleaming with happiness. She had a mount to carry her into the Breeders Cup championships. Turf had been Maggie's starting point and she would love to finish off what had been an incredible season aboard the daughter of her formerly prized mount.
Where triumph and confidence existed in Justin and Maggie, Brooks could only feel the impending dread that would be his separation from Frozen Motion. He sat in an untouchable silence, barely acknowledging the other riders. All he could feel was the chasm that would start to develop upon the completion of the Breeders Cup Mile. His blue eyes filled with emotion, Brooks ran a hand down the perfectly trimmed mane of the Spitz stallion. They had come so far since their partnership last winter. Wins in two of the Turf Triple Crown races, powerful victories in the Rose Mile Cup and a simply stunning four year old season, had left Brookson with more memories than he could even count. The dappled gray horse was coming into the Tropical Rainforest Invitational off of the the two best performances of his career in the Cox Plate and Caulfield Cup. Victory was not a given at any point in time, but Brooks could not help feeling tremendously confident in his iron horse. He nudged the gray into a canter after his more volatile stable-mates. Freeze snorted, bowing his neck so that his chin touched his chest. Power laced his muscles and Brooks sighed. He could only enjoy these last few workouts and races.
Ripley could see the wave of emotion crashing down upon her assistant trainer. She'd experienced these very same emotions with El Sol del Mar, but under different circumstances. She had not known upon riding in El Sol del Mar's last race that it would be the end. Injury had stolen the Hall of Fame mare from her before she'd reached her prime. She waved at the riders who hand-cantered past on snorting, proud thoroughbreds. She spoke through the mic that was pinned to her chest. All of them look fantastic guys. A mile and a quarter gallop with a five furlong workout will do. Maggie's voice crackled over the speakers, You got it boss lady. Justin flashed the thumbs up on the first turn. Brooks remained motionless in the saddle, barely giving any indication that he heard. Ripley spoke then, emotion causing her voice to stagger, You've got memories left to create with him, Brooks. He's done more for you in two years than most horses do for people in their entire lifetime. Brooks' shoulders relaxed slightly as the horses cruised into the backstretch for the first round. Ripley nodded in satisfaction.
Strength whipped up through the reins when Maggie asked Calamity Queen to pick it up a notch. The powerful bay filly bolted alongside the rail, legs sweeping with ferociousness over the course. She took over the lead from Dazzling Dame and set a brisk pace going into the far turn. Her blinkered-head was level to her shoulders which swelled powerfully with every grand stride she took. The filly was really coming into her own and Maggie wondered if Calamity Queen might be the biggest threat to Bella Luna and Italian Ice in Year Fourteen. She was not a slouch, but a filly that required time to reach full maturity. Maggie perched over her withers, blue eyes glittering with contentment. They would take it to Dazzling Dame and Frozen Motion right off the bat.
Frozen Motion was not one to rest on his laurels. While his rider mulled over the past, Freeze immediately took up the chase after Calamity Queen. He rolled up the outside of Dazzling Dame, not slowing down for a moment before pressing on to Calamity Queen's haunches. His eyes were lit up with confidence as he rolled up to her outside. The stallion handled the far turn with ease, gliding where Calamity Queen and Dazzling Dame were forced to muscle it. He stayed at her haunches, happy with the pace the younger filly was setting. Freeze had turned into a stalking king of impressive proportions. He was not speed crazed as he had been upon his arrival as a three year old. Mellowing out had turned Frozen Motion into the top competitor for all turf horses.
Justin allowed Dazzling Dame to stride out until she was happy with her own pace. Like Frozen Motion, Dazzling Dame was finally becoming a queen of her division. She moved so powerfully and with such confidence that Justin felt like he could ask her at any time to throw down the gauntlet. Her ears were pricked on the speedy Calamity Queen and the long-striding Frozen Motion. She did not beg for more rein, but simply cruised along two lengths behind them. Her game would come later, the game which she thrived at. She was the cat and they were the mice. All of her competitors had been mice for Dazzling Dame and Justin Santiago. They'd caught half of them this season, but half had escaped. It was crunch time now. Dazzling Dame would be locked and loaded for the final two performances of her outstanding career.
Calamity Queen lead the run into the first turn again, ears flapping up and down over her dark skull. Her eyes blazed at the pressure that Freeze was applying to her outside hip. The reins were taunt as Maggie urged the filly to settle down and to ignore the competitive pressure. It went against the grain for the stout filly, but it had gone against the grain for Frozen Motion as well. He'd turned into a champion. Maggie talked to Calamity Queen, murmuring words into her ears, grinning when the filly settled down slightly. Slightly was good enough for the moment.
Brooks could not hold back the smile now. Frozen Motion acted like he was strolling in the park beside the hard-trying filly. He was so unflappable in the face of competition these days, so mentally and physically tough. The filly bounced her hip off of his shoulder in an attempt to dislodge the pressure, but Freeze remained strong, reflecting the physicality with only a turned ear to listen to Brooks. The man crouched close to his mounts long neck, eyes blazing with competitive fire and all thoughts turned away from retirement. Freeze remained three-quarters of a length behind Calamity Queen, but Brooks had no doubt the horse would have enough to run by her at the end. The mile and a quarter was up in a flash of hooves. Brooks glanced under his arm, looking for Dazzling Dame. The hulking mare would be coming soon.
Justin spotted the quick movement of Brooks turning to see where Dame was at. Don't worry, Brooky. We'll be on our way shortly. The murmur was just enough to drag Dazzling Dame from the depths of her contemplation. Her ears slammed against the back of her head, teeth wrapped around the bit. Justin felt himself being dragged from the saddle as Dazzling Dame commenced her bid. The mare had gotten to deciding her own moves. Justin was more than happy to let her go on. His mare always had enough stamina to keep going no matter the remaining distance. Her ominous strides echoed through the pantheon as she bore down upon Calamity Queen and Frozen Motion. A desperate slash of reins had Dame flicking her forelegs over Freeze's rear hooves. It was a very athletic feat for such a roundly muscled mare. She whipped up to his outside, eyes blazing with fury.
Calamity Queen was feeling the pressure now as the trio stormed down the late backstretch. Her ears were pinned, but she ran unrelentingly. The attack was a powerful one that a lesser horse might have given in to. She had Touch Up blood and therefore, defeat was simply unacceptable. She barreled into the turn, hooves cutting sharply through the synthetic. Her muscled frame bore out on the turn, sandwiching Frozen Motion in between herself and the explosive Dazzling Dame. The stallion did not back off. He pressed on between the two mares, ears pinned and teeth gritted. Brooks shook the reins the moment a little daylight opened up on either side and set the stallion up for the drive. He burst through the hole, launching into the lead off of the turn.
Calamity Queen and Dazzling Dame were in chase mode now. The greyhound had given them the slip. Calamity Queen remained locked on the rail, skimming Maggie's iron off of the metal. Maggie leaned close, noting the growing distance between Freeze and the two mares. The dappled gray stallion was really pouring it on today. It was time to ask Calamity Queen to hunt him down. Maggie shook the reins at the stout filly, cackling when she shot up the rail like a comet. What a saucy filly this one was.
The horses stormed down the racetrack, hooves beating into the newly renovated surface. Freeze held a length and a half advantage, but it was diminishing from the outside. Justin threw the reins down at Dazzling Dame's neck, shouting at her for a move. The Jessie James mare roared forward, black mane and tail whipping out behind her like a cape. She poured on the speed, immediately gathering Frozen Motion's attention. Her head was at his haunches, then his barrel and finally his shoulder. The wire rolled closer, now out two hundred yards. Crunch time had arrived.
Calamity Queen joined them across the track, finally getting a break along the rail. Freeze was now locked in the middle again, but like before he was not backing down. The horses plunged over the track, fighting one another for the victory, that thrilling finish. As though they were one, Dazzling Dame and Calamity Queen commenced a final assault on the grey ghost. They barreled up to his throat latch, but the gray horse was not done. He streaked under the wire a head in front before the mares pinched him back. He bowed his neck, snorting through his nostrils. Brooks patted his neck, eyes glazed with pride. There was no horse like Frozen Motion. There never would be another horse like Freeze again for Brookson Wells.
Dame pulled up, eyes full of irritation and loathing for the grey horse. She clacked her teeth in the dappled stud's direction, threatened a kick. Calamity Queen poured it on up the track, powerfully galloping out. One day her day would come. She would have her moment in the sun.
invitation only
There was a buzz about Witch Creek that just could not be stifled. Not by the depressing cloud cover, the winter breeze, the wild cawing of the black crows. Employees called excitedly from stall to stall, eyes lit with excitement and eagerness. Ripley and Brooks had locked themselves in the office for hours on end, making plans for horse transport and final workouts. Reese and Laura had been pouring over past performance logs for days. Maggie could not have been more frantic, pacing from one barn to another, before settling in Royal Assault's stall. The dark bay mare had barely been a comfort, but Maggie had been forced to leave by Al Thompson because she was stressing the heavily pregnant horse out. The blond could not sit still and so she was presently bugging Justin who had taken to obsessively grooming Hokum, Dazzling Dame and Prima Donna.
It was officially crunch time, but it was less about the Breeders Cup and more about the news that Ripley Marsh had just announced. Brookson had practically leaped out of skin at the thunderous applause by the barn's employees when Ripley had announced that Frozen Motion would not be retiring in four weeks as expected. Rather the dappled gray stallion would take Witch Creek back to the Dubai World Championships. Screaming Mimi had finished second behind Worldbreaker in the race last year, but this time they would have an even larger shot. Witch Creek would not be resting on its laurels after the Breeders Cup.
Ripley Marsh and Brookson Wells were talking animatedly from the sides of their mounts in this next set. Red Herring's body rippled with well-conditioned muscle. His fine, copper-colored coat reflected the barn light and dapples flickered over his haunches. The powerful three year old could not look more healthy and ready to take on his biggest challenge in the Palm Tree Paradise Invitational. Brooks had not been expecting a start in such a prestigious race for his grade two colt, but the minute the invitations had been put in the paper, Brooks had fled to Ripley. Red Herring just had to have a go at the older horses. While he was not at the grade level of the rest of the field, Red Herring was training more forwardly now than at any point in his career. Brooks' patted the colt's thick neck, watching as the animal's eyes showed some white. The hot-tempered horse was just itching to battle.
Fiery Touch did not display any of the hot-headed temper that was so obvious in Red Herring. She stood tall and proud, muscles quietly obvious beneath her light bay coat. The daughter of Touch Up had shown the world that she could indeed win on the biggest stage. Ripley was still buzzing from the dead-heat victory with Nightshade in the Dubai Filly Cup. The auburn-haired trainer prayed that lightning would strike twice in the Dubai World Cup against the best stallions and mares in the world. Ripley stroked the short black mane that glittered along the length of her neck. The mare's dark eyes flashed with interest as Red Herring lifted off of his front hooves. She pranced sideways, head cranked to get the best view of the burly horse before her. Ripley unclasped the cross-ties and led the classically built female out of the barn.
Brooks followed along, swiftly mounting up as soon as they'd passed through the barn doors. Whipping cold brutalized Brookson's body, but he was flying on cloud nine. Freeze would be coming back briefly in Year Fourteen. Red Herring would finally get a chance to prove himself on the biggest stage yet. Things were looking up for the man who had lost all hope going into Year Thirteen. He switched his blue gaze to Ripley Marsh as she jumped into the light racing saddle. Fie nickered, prancing in place until Ripley picked up the reins and told her to move on.
The chestnut and bay horses quickly reached the track, muscles flowing beneath their hides. Their blood was pumping through their veins at a solidly building pace. Each knew what this track was about. It was time to blow off some steam. The riders stood in the saddles, signaling for them to pick up hand-canters. Red loped mightily along on the inside of Fie. His nostrils flared in and out, steam billowing from them so that he looked like a dragon. The colt was toughening with age, blossoming into an animal that the world might not be prepared for. Brooks tucked his heavily gloved hands at the colt's withers, noting the ease with which Red Herring galloped along.
Fie danced over the course, rangy body getting the most out of the open space. Her stripe-marked head remained at Red Herring's throat latch as he rumbled through the opening quarter of the mile and a quarter gallop. She would not let the chestnut horse escape her notice. Too often, the bay mare had been fooled to settle off an easy pace. Ripley leaned close to her mount, smiling at the ears that were lost in mane. Fie was an intense mare, full of herself and mighty powerful. The owner of Witch Creek had come to know a lot about this stubborn mare in the last two years. Fie would be better off doing what she did best: thinking for herself. If Fie wanted to remain close to the lead she would. If, like in the Dubai Filly Cup, Fie wanted to settle back off of the pace, she would do that without any arguments from Ripley. The chosen tactic by the Touch Up daughter had worked out perfectly last time out.
The pair galloped strongly into the far turn, Red locked on the inside, Fie free-wheeling it on the outside. Brooks knew Red Herring would be a handful for any horse going into the Palm Tree Paradise Invitational. The colt didn't know the meaning of quit and he could throw a wrench in the plans of others without a second thought. Sweet Inferno and Paradise Island would have to face off with a colt that was heading into his prime career, who had notched two big wins in the last season, and a colt that was known for gritting his opponents into the ground. Red Herring was the lowest graded horse in the race, but to say he was a dark horse was a severe understatement. He was an absolute trigger-happy, wild card in the invitational. The others would have a fight on their hooves, even the closers Euphoria's Warrior and Fire Dancer.
Red Herring and Fiery Touch pressured each other down the homestretch and beneath the wire. Never once did they let off of the speed-crazy gas. Yet, both of them raced so easily that it could fool their riders and the people watching them. Fie's tongue flapped outside of her mouth, her eyes rimmed with the white of determination. If Red was going to take on the top horses in the invitational, he would have to get through her first. Ripley ratcheted up the pressure on Red Herring going down the backstretch again. She flicked the reins, setting Fie down for a slaughtering drive. The lean bay mare moved up to run head and head with Brooks' powerful colt.
Red snorted in surprise when Fie launched a bid for the lead, but he could tell she wasn't serious just yet. He ducked back on the rail, letting her have the lead, but not removing his daunting presence. He rolled along at her throatlatch now, pacing the mare with a light of mischief in his eyes. Brooks steadied himself aboard the ruby colored horse, but understood what Red Herring was trying to tell him. Fie could have the lead for now, but she wasn't going to catch a moment's rest.
They swept through three brutally challenging furlongs, but neither horse showed any sign of slowing down. Ripley allowed Fie to spin out a little wide on the turn, knowing the mare would snap right back to her original path upon straightening out. The Touch Up horse did just that immediately, sweeping the lead back out from under Red Herring's white nose. The colt tossed his head, demanded rein from Brooks and was given it. He bolted forward in a tremendous turn of foot, but Fie was back on him like a lion on its prey. She was fierce in her attack and Red was fierce in his bid for the lead. Both horses roared down the track, legs blurring in their quest for victory. The horses dove beneath the wire, Red getting his nose across the line in first. The pair refused to pull up right away, brains fuzzy with speed. The riders talked them down, grinning from ear to ear. Witch Creek was very well-prepared for crunch time!
It was officially crunch time, but it was less about the Breeders Cup and more about the news that Ripley Marsh had just announced. Brookson had practically leaped out of skin at the thunderous applause by the barn's employees when Ripley had announced that Frozen Motion would not be retiring in four weeks as expected. Rather the dappled gray stallion would take Witch Creek back to the Dubai World Championships. Screaming Mimi had finished second behind Worldbreaker in the race last year, but this time they would have an even larger shot. Witch Creek would not be resting on its laurels after the Breeders Cup.
Ripley Marsh and Brookson Wells were talking animatedly from the sides of their mounts in this next set. Red Herring's body rippled with well-conditioned muscle. His fine, copper-colored coat reflected the barn light and dapples flickered over his haunches. The powerful three year old could not look more healthy and ready to take on his biggest challenge in the Palm Tree Paradise Invitational. Brooks had not been expecting a start in such a prestigious race for his grade two colt, but the minute the invitations had been put in the paper, Brooks had fled to Ripley. Red Herring just had to have a go at the older horses. While he was not at the grade level of the rest of the field, Red Herring was training more forwardly now than at any point in his career. Brooks' patted the colt's thick neck, watching as the animal's eyes showed some white. The hot-tempered horse was just itching to battle.
Fiery Touch did not display any of the hot-headed temper that was so obvious in Red Herring. She stood tall and proud, muscles quietly obvious beneath her light bay coat. The daughter of Touch Up had shown the world that she could indeed win on the biggest stage. Ripley was still buzzing from the dead-heat victory with Nightshade in the Dubai Filly Cup. The auburn-haired trainer prayed that lightning would strike twice in the Dubai World Cup against the best stallions and mares in the world. Ripley stroked the short black mane that glittered along the length of her neck. The mare's dark eyes flashed with interest as Red Herring lifted off of his front hooves. She pranced sideways, head cranked to get the best view of the burly horse before her. Ripley unclasped the cross-ties and led the classically built female out of the barn.
Brooks followed along, swiftly mounting up as soon as they'd passed through the barn doors. Whipping cold brutalized Brookson's body, but he was flying on cloud nine. Freeze would be coming back briefly in Year Fourteen. Red Herring would finally get a chance to prove himself on the biggest stage yet. Things were looking up for the man who had lost all hope going into Year Thirteen. He switched his blue gaze to Ripley Marsh as she jumped into the light racing saddle. Fie nickered, prancing in place until Ripley picked up the reins and told her to move on.
The chestnut and bay horses quickly reached the track, muscles flowing beneath their hides. Their blood was pumping through their veins at a solidly building pace. Each knew what this track was about. It was time to blow off some steam. The riders stood in the saddles, signaling for them to pick up hand-canters. Red loped mightily along on the inside of Fie. His nostrils flared in and out, steam billowing from them so that he looked like a dragon. The colt was toughening with age, blossoming into an animal that the world might not be prepared for. Brooks tucked his heavily gloved hands at the colt's withers, noting the ease with which Red Herring galloped along.
Fie danced over the course, rangy body getting the most out of the open space. Her stripe-marked head remained at Red Herring's throat latch as he rumbled through the opening quarter of the mile and a quarter gallop. She would not let the chestnut horse escape her notice. Too often, the bay mare had been fooled to settle off an easy pace. Ripley leaned close to her mount, smiling at the ears that were lost in mane. Fie was an intense mare, full of herself and mighty powerful. The owner of Witch Creek had come to know a lot about this stubborn mare in the last two years. Fie would be better off doing what she did best: thinking for herself. If Fie wanted to remain close to the lead she would. If, like in the Dubai Filly Cup, Fie wanted to settle back off of the pace, she would do that without any arguments from Ripley. The chosen tactic by the Touch Up daughter had worked out perfectly last time out.
The pair galloped strongly into the far turn, Red locked on the inside, Fie free-wheeling it on the outside. Brooks knew Red Herring would be a handful for any horse going into the Palm Tree Paradise Invitational. The colt didn't know the meaning of quit and he could throw a wrench in the plans of others without a second thought. Sweet Inferno and Paradise Island would have to face off with a colt that was heading into his prime career, who had notched two big wins in the last season, and a colt that was known for gritting his opponents into the ground. Red Herring was the lowest graded horse in the race, but to say he was a dark horse was a severe understatement. He was an absolute trigger-happy, wild card in the invitational. The others would have a fight on their hooves, even the closers Euphoria's Warrior and Fire Dancer.
Red Herring and Fiery Touch pressured each other down the homestretch and beneath the wire. Never once did they let off of the speed-crazy gas. Yet, both of them raced so easily that it could fool their riders and the people watching them. Fie's tongue flapped outside of her mouth, her eyes rimmed with the white of determination. If Red was going to take on the top horses in the invitational, he would have to get through her first. Ripley ratcheted up the pressure on Red Herring going down the backstretch again. She flicked the reins, setting Fie down for a slaughtering drive. The lean bay mare moved up to run head and head with Brooks' powerful colt.
Red snorted in surprise when Fie launched a bid for the lead, but he could tell she wasn't serious just yet. He ducked back on the rail, letting her have the lead, but not removing his daunting presence. He rolled along at her throatlatch now, pacing the mare with a light of mischief in his eyes. Brooks steadied himself aboard the ruby colored horse, but understood what Red Herring was trying to tell him. Fie could have the lead for now, but she wasn't going to catch a moment's rest.
They swept through three brutally challenging furlongs, but neither horse showed any sign of slowing down. Ripley allowed Fie to spin out a little wide on the turn, knowing the mare would snap right back to her original path upon straightening out. The Touch Up horse did just that immediately, sweeping the lead back out from under Red Herring's white nose. The colt tossed his head, demanded rein from Brooks and was given it. He bolted forward in a tremendous turn of foot, but Fie was back on him like a lion on its prey. She was fierce in her attack and Red was fierce in his bid for the lead. Both horses roared down the track, legs blurring in their quest for victory. The horses dove beneath the wire, Red getting his nose across the line in first. The pair refused to pull up right away, brains fuzzy with speed. The riders talked them down, grinning from ear to ear. Witch Creek was very well-prepared for crunch time!
otherwordly beauty
Ripley's body was practically tingling with excitement. Today would be her first day riding in the mammoth synthetic indoor track of her own ingenious creation. Most Kentucky tracks could deal with the snow because they were further south than Witch Creek, therefore, they could have outdoor turf runs all year long. Not Witch Creek. Ripley had forgotten about that when she'd opened her doors in the beginning of Year Twelve. The winter of last year had been brutal and she'd had to split training between Witch Creek's dirt track and shipping to either GHF or TW. Now she'd adapted to the issue, embraced it more or less and created a comfortable environment for her horses to run in. She rubbed her hands together from the saddle of Cross My Heart. Her green eyes flickering over the well-maintained indoor track.
Cross was taunt with energy and excitement. Her gallops had been over the track, but Justin had been aboard, not Ripley. She knew things were different today. Ripley was on her back and that meant she would finally get to run. Her muscles quivered when Bella Luna and GS Royal Crown stepped into the building to join her. Her ears pricked all the way forward, focusing heavily on Bella Luna. The black filly had taken up a recent dislike of the Turf Triple Crown winner. Ripley wondered if more happened in the early gallops than was let on. Cross did not naturally dislike other horses. She clacked her teeth in Bella Luna's direction, switching her tail over her coal-black rump. Her eyes rolled with white when Ripley did not allow her to go after the gray filly who just watched with wise eyes.
Reese patted the filly's neck, glancing over at Maggie who was circling with Crow, trying to hide her smirk. Crow was not interested in the pesky female politics. His dark frame paced impatiently up and down the track, awaiting further direction. He snorted, prancing sideways, nickering when Maggie didn't answer him. He'd come to be such a flirt over the season with humans and mares. Maggie rode his enthusiasm out, enjoying the feeling of an excited thoroughbred between her legs. He tossed his head, black mane neatly wacking her in the face. She talked to him, keeping one eye on Ripley and one eye on her dervish of a colt. Reese was lucky. Bella Luna would stand for days. She was an odd sort of filly, long beyond her skittish early days. She was a girl turned into a beautiful woman. Maggie hoped Crow would turn into three-quarters of the horse that the filly was.
Ripley nodded, allowed Cross to step into a jog and from a jog into a warm-up hand-canter. The black filly jetted forward, bounding over the synthetic with determined, yet light strides. Cross My Heart was a fierce filly and fresh off of a long lay-off. Crow and Cross would be contesting the same race, facing off against Innocent Passion. Cross had lost the last race of the Turf Sprinter Tiara to that filly and Ripley knew that once Cross saw Innocent Passion, she would turn into a demon. Cross hated to lose and specifically hated to lose against Innocent Passion. Ripley could already feel the hateful fire that would pour out of Cross. Ripley had lied when she had thought that Cross didn't hate horses, but there was a special place in the dark filly's heart for the Stride of Perfection representative.
Reese kept Bella Luna well clear of the speed demon that was Cross My Heart. The black filly flew over the course with GS Royal Crown neatly tucked at her haunches. The gray colt loved a good race and if he wanted to run, being side by side with Cross was where he would have to be. Bella Luna glided over the synthetic track, ears bobbing over her head in what would appear to be disinterest. Reese called it having a brain. Bella Luna knew she didn't have to run full out, knew that she didn't have to try particularly hard until the five furlong workout at the end of the mile gallop. Cross could only handle a mile before she went nut-so. Reese stroked her light colored filly's neck. Bella Luna was an ice queen compared to Cross My Heart. Perhaps that explained why the black filly had grown to dislike her.
The gray filly tracked her to spitfire stable-mates with easy, elongated strides. While Crow and Cross were coming off a type of layoff, Bella Luna had been running steadily since July. Her next start would be key to as to how she would head in the Breeders Cup. The Turf Triple Crown winner had dropped some races, but Reese was sure that the filly was just getting warmed up. The World Turf Cup awaited them and so did former stable-mate Flawed Princess and World Filly Cup winner Italian Ice. They would not find Bella Luna unprepared this time. She would be ready to fire her best shot and take down the other two. Reese could only hope that their strategy worked out in the long run. She had the mount to get the job done. Bella snorted through softly-tapered nostrils, her eyes gleaming with warmth and excitement. She loved to stretch her legs over the course, to do anything that had anything to do with running. Reese perched at her withers as they headed up the homestretch for the first time. The next time around they would end half-way up the homestretch in mid-flight.
Cross set a furious pace up the stretch, legs blurring black beneath her small frame. She dared GS Royal Crown to keep up, pinning her ears every time he drew up to her throat. The dark gray colt pressed her mercilessly, but Cross always had something extra to hold him at bay. Maggie could feel Crow getting frustrated, his body dampening with sweat. She twitched the reins, forcing him to back off. He struggled at first, but then settled beneath the gentle offer. He let out a bucket of air as the distance between himself and the black filly increased to a length and a half. His ears bobbed now over his head, his long strides settling to cruising speed. If Maggie wanted to win the Green Mile, she could not pit GS Royal Crown against Cross My Heart. She would inadvertently kill her horse off by running with their stablemate. Cross was simply too fast to take on right from the get-go unless you had a horse with just as much speed and stamina. It was rare and few horses could hold the candle to the black filly right out of the gate.
Ripley patted Cross' lean neck, praising her. Cross settled down, ears pricked as she cruised through the turn. Ripley looked under her arm. Crow was a length and a half back, Bella three lengths behind Cross. The gray filly was well in hand. Crow was catching a breather. Ripley knew that after a whole year the horses were in fine shape. Cross would have a ton of horse on her hooves if she couldn't maintain this brutal speed. The filly released an ear-splitting whinny a moment before her release. She stuttered briefly, but her hooves still flashed quicker beneath her body than either GS Royal Crown's or Bella Luna's. The black filly was dying for run. Five furlongs was all she would get today, just enough to take the edge off for her first race back.
Bella Luna launched her gray body forward, her turn of foot strong over the synthetic surface. She powered away from her previous stance and drew within a length of Crow who had commenced his bid to run side by side with Cross. Bella Luna's ears were pinned as she mercilessly stalked her stablemates. The filly had become fierce in the aftermath of her losses. She was dying for a victory, dying to prove herself. The fury that lanced up the reins was not Reese's. She had faith in her filly and knew they would eventually come out on top. But Bella wanted the win now. She cruised up alongside Crow's outside, nearly dragging Reese from the saddle. Reese's eyes widened with shock as the gray filly rolled down the center of the track.
Maggie gave a yip of excitement from Crow's dark back. Here was a real horse race. The trio spanned over the track, hoofbeats echoing loudly like muffled gun fire within the structure. Cross maintained a fierce neck advantage, only putting on my demonstrative speed when Bella Luna drew up to run with them. Crow would not back down from between the two lithe fillies. He was muscled and tough. He was stronger and braver than he had ever been. When they pinched him, he burst through the hole, brushing them back with fury glimmering in his gaze. This was his game. He was a bull to get by, a bull too stubborn to give up on a win. Maggie kept her hands quiet. She did not want Crow to give it his all against these stablemates. There were other horses and challenges waiting for them.
Cross gritted down as she launched into the homestretch, blowing Crow and Bella away briefly with a shocking explosion. Ripley clung to the filly's neck as she stormed up the track a length and a half in front. Crow would never catch a fresh Cross My Heart, but Bella Luna might. Ripley did not need to look to her right to know that Bella Luna's gray body would fill the view. She could hear her hooves, her determined breaths. She wanted to win. She was tired of losing. Cross and Bella left Crow behind a length back, Maggie holding him together and not letting him go shaky legged on her. The Green Mile awaited them. The colt snorted, lifting his knees higher in excitement as the fillies dashed away from him to a length and a half led. However, he didn't argue with Maggie's commands. He had an idea as to where this was going.
The black and gray flew beneath the wire, nose to nose. Cross squealed furiously, nearly sending Ripley over her shoulder with a ferocious buck. Bella Luna simply hand-cantered along, ears twin white towers above her classic head. Reese patted Bella's neck. The gray filly would be tough in the World Turf Cup and her foes would find her more prepared than her last couple starts. Cross' attitude seemed to sum up both horses' minds at once.
BRING IT ON, the black filly seemed to scream. She barely suppressed her tantrum out of the synthetic track. Ripley could not wait to get the black demon on the track. The filly had to get a couple of runs in before the Breeders Cup. Ripley wondered if the filly might come back as good as she had come into Year Thirteen with the way she was training.
Cross was taunt with energy and excitement. Her gallops had been over the track, but Justin had been aboard, not Ripley. She knew things were different today. Ripley was on her back and that meant she would finally get to run. Her muscles quivered when Bella Luna and GS Royal Crown stepped into the building to join her. Her ears pricked all the way forward, focusing heavily on Bella Luna. The black filly had taken up a recent dislike of the Turf Triple Crown winner. Ripley wondered if more happened in the early gallops than was let on. Cross did not naturally dislike other horses. She clacked her teeth in Bella Luna's direction, switching her tail over her coal-black rump. Her eyes rolled with white when Ripley did not allow her to go after the gray filly who just watched with wise eyes.
Reese patted the filly's neck, glancing over at Maggie who was circling with Crow, trying to hide her smirk. Crow was not interested in the pesky female politics. His dark frame paced impatiently up and down the track, awaiting further direction. He snorted, prancing sideways, nickering when Maggie didn't answer him. He'd come to be such a flirt over the season with humans and mares. Maggie rode his enthusiasm out, enjoying the feeling of an excited thoroughbred between her legs. He tossed his head, black mane neatly wacking her in the face. She talked to him, keeping one eye on Ripley and one eye on her dervish of a colt. Reese was lucky. Bella Luna would stand for days. She was an odd sort of filly, long beyond her skittish early days. She was a girl turned into a beautiful woman. Maggie hoped Crow would turn into three-quarters of the horse that the filly was.
Ripley nodded, allowed Cross to step into a jog and from a jog into a warm-up hand-canter. The black filly jetted forward, bounding over the synthetic with determined, yet light strides. Cross My Heart was a fierce filly and fresh off of a long lay-off. Crow and Cross would be contesting the same race, facing off against Innocent Passion. Cross had lost the last race of the Turf Sprinter Tiara to that filly and Ripley knew that once Cross saw Innocent Passion, she would turn into a demon. Cross hated to lose and specifically hated to lose against Innocent Passion. Ripley could already feel the hateful fire that would pour out of Cross. Ripley had lied when she had thought that Cross didn't hate horses, but there was a special place in the dark filly's heart for the Stride of Perfection representative.
Reese kept Bella Luna well clear of the speed demon that was Cross My Heart. The black filly flew over the course with GS Royal Crown neatly tucked at her haunches. The gray colt loved a good race and if he wanted to run, being side by side with Cross was where he would have to be. Bella Luna glided over the synthetic track, ears bobbing over her head in what would appear to be disinterest. Reese called it having a brain. Bella Luna knew she didn't have to run full out, knew that she didn't have to try particularly hard until the five furlong workout at the end of the mile gallop. Cross could only handle a mile before she went nut-so. Reese stroked her light colored filly's neck. Bella Luna was an ice queen compared to Cross My Heart. Perhaps that explained why the black filly had grown to dislike her.
The gray filly tracked her to spitfire stable-mates with easy, elongated strides. While Crow and Cross were coming off a type of layoff, Bella Luna had been running steadily since July. Her next start would be key to as to how she would head in the Breeders Cup. The Turf Triple Crown winner had dropped some races, but Reese was sure that the filly was just getting warmed up. The World Turf Cup awaited them and so did former stable-mate Flawed Princess and World Filly Cup winner Italian Ice. They would not find Bella Luna unprepared this time. She would be ready to fire her best shot and take down the other two. Reese could only hope that their strategy worked out in the long run. She had the mount to get the job done. Bella snorted through softly-tapered nostrils, her eyes gleaming with warmth and excitement. She loved to stretch her legs over the course, to do anything that had anything to do with running. Reese perched at her withers as they headed up the homestretch for the first time. The next time around they would end half-way up the homestretch in mid-flight.
Cross set a furious pace up the stretch, legs blurring black beneath her small frame. She dared GS Royal Crown to keep up, pinning her ears every time he drew up to her throat. The dark gray colt pressed her mercilessly, but Cross always had something extra to hold him at bay. Maggie could feel Crow getting frustrated, his body dampening with sweat. She twitched the reins, forcing him to back off. He struggled at first, but then settled beneath the gentle offer. He let out a bucket of air as the distance between himself and the black filly increased to a length and a half. His ears bobbed now over his head, his long strides settling to cruising speed. If Maggie wanted to win the Green Mile, she could not pit GS Royal Crown against Cross My Heart. She would inadvertently kill her horse off by running with their stablemate. Cross was simply too fast to take on right from the get-go unless you had a horse with just as much speed and stamina. It was rare and few horses could hold the candle to the black filly right out of the gate.
Ripley patted Cross' lean neck, praising her. Cross settled down, ears pricked as she cruised through the turn. Ripley looked under her arm. Crow was a length and a half back, Bella three lengths behind Cross. The gray filly was well in hand. Crow was catching a breather. Ripley knew that after a whole year the horses were in fine shape. Cross would have a ton of horse on her hooves if she couldn't maintain this brutal speed. The filly released an ear-splitting whinny a moment before her release. She stuttered briefly, but her hooves still flashed quicker beneath her body than either GS Royal Crown's or Bella Luna's. The black filly was dying for run. Five furlongs was all she would get today, just enough to take the edge off for her first race back.
Bella Luna launched her gray body forward, her turn of foot strong over the synthetic surface. She powered away from her previous stance and drew within a length of Crow who had commenced his bid to run side by side with Cross. Bella Luna's ears were pinned as she mercilessly stalked her stablemates. The filly had become fierce in the aftermath of her losses. She was dying for a victory, dying to prove herself. The fury that lanced up the reins was not Reese's. She had faith in her filly and knew they would eventually come out on top. But Bella wanted the win now. She cruised up alongside Crow's outside, nearly dragging Reese from the saddle. Reese's eyes widened with shock as the gray filly rolled down the center of the track.
Maggie gave a yip of excitement from Crow's dark back. Here was a real horse race. The trio spanned over the track, hoofbeats echoing loudly like muffled gun fire within the structure. Cross maintained a fierce neck advantage, only putting on my demonstrative speed when Bella Luna drew up to run with them. Crow would not back down from between the two lithe fillies. He was muscled and tough. He was stronger and braver than he had ever been. When they pinched him, he burst through the hole, brushing them back with fury glimmering in his gaze. This was his game. He was a bull to get by, a bull too stubborn to give up on a win. Maggie kept her hands quiet. She did not want Crow to give it his all against these stablemates. There were other horses and challenges waiting for them.
Cross gritted down as she launched into the homestretch, blowing Crow and Bella away briefly with a shocking explosion. Ripley clung to the filly's neck as she stormed up the track a length and a half in front. Crow would never catch a fresh Cross My Heart, but Bella Luna might. Ripley did not need to look to her right to know that Bella Luna's gray body would fill the view. She could hear her hooves, her determined breaths. She wanted to win. She was tired of losing. Cross and Bella left Crow behind a length back, Maggie holding him together and not letting him go shaky legged on her. The Green Mile awaited them. The colt snorted, lifting his knees higher in excitement as the fillies dashed away from him to a length and a half led. However, he didn't argue with Maggie's commands. He had an idea as to where this was going.
The black and gray flew beneath the wire, nose to nose. Cross squealed furiously, nearly sending Ripley over her shoulder with a ferocious buck. Bella Luna simply hand-cantered along, ears twin white towers above her classic head. Reese patted Bella's neck. The gray filly would be tough in the World Turf Cup and her foes would find her more prepared than her last couple starts. Cross' attitude seemed to sum up both horses' minds at once.
BRING IT ON, the black filly seemed to scream. She barely suppressed her tantrum out of the synthetic track. Ripley could not wait to get the black demon on the track. The filly had to get a couple of runs in before the Breeders Cup. Ripley wondered if the filly might come back as good as she had come into Year Thirteen with the way she was training.