November Week Three Workouts: Scroll
Dazzling Dame& Mastermind. Frozen Motion& GS Royal Crown.
Van Guard& Paranormal Hunter.
Indian Darling.
Van Guard& Paranormal Hunter.
Indian Darling.
dazzle me master
Courtesy of Event of the Year Photos.
This was it, Ripley thought as she watched both Van Guard and Strike The Win strut down the horse trailer and into their respective stalls. She was done with buying more horses. She'd bought her way to the maximum capacity possible. Twenty-one horses was enough for her. Especially for next year's string. Ripley shook her head, tossing her auburn strands back over her shoulders.
Brooks rubbed Van Guard's face, looking into his bright eyes. The colt's nostrils fluttered excitedly and his ears twitched from side to side. This horse had been here before, had trained over this surface before. Ripley sighed, leaned against Mastermind's stall. Her excited sculpture-esque colt watched the dark bay down the way with competitive eyes. Mastermind hadn't forgotten Van Guard either. His muscles twitched inside his stall, tail switched over his rump. His competitor was back in the house. Ripley patted the Speed Demon son's neck, grinning when he snake faced at her, keeping her from view of Native Flame's third son. Lately, Mastermind had become quite possessive over her. She hadn't been galloping him because of racing at The Wire, Intrepid, Akita Rose and Green Horse Fields. He missed her and it was nice to see that he did have portion of his heart dedicated to the Witch Creek staff.
Ripley crooned to him, rubbing his forelock away from his small star. The colt nickered quietly, beckoning her with sweetness to give more attention. She smiled and kissed his head. The colt closed his eyes. Mastermind was lightening up. It was a pleasure to see. She opened her eyes to examine the filly walking into the barn.
A huge gap separated the filly and Justin, a slack in the lead rope. Dazzling Dame was at the end, her large crested neck, gleaming as she passed from light to shadow. Her forelock was soaked with snow, as was her long dark tail. She twitched her soft nostrils as she stepped inside and her whole titan form stopped dead. Her eyes gleamed with anger when she spotted Strike The Win and Van Guard. Her body tensed into attack mode, but a quick snort from the opposite side of the barn had her turning away.
Ripley followed the filly's gaze and watched Screaming Mimi watch Dame. The black empress glared at Dame until the mahogany bay bowed her head and stepped quietly after Justin. And as quick as a snap, the potential conflict was over. Strike The Win and Van Guard went back to their stalls. Mims began to chow down on her hay and Dame stood irritably with a hoof cocked between cross-ties. Maggie stepped out of Mims' stall and patted the filly's neck. I'm going to miss this attitude of hers. We may have to bring Para over. She'd be better served in this barn than reigning in tyranny over with the younger group.
Ripley grinned as she ran her hands over Dazzling Dame's stocky legs. Paranormal Hunter, half to exciting sprinter prospect, Flashpoint, was Maggie's new Year Thirteen mount and also the newly committed Queen Bee. She was the head Gorgon, Medusa herself, according to Maggie. And no one argued. Para had laid down the law when Hourglass had gone to attack Supernatural. And now Hourglass was sporting a new scar on her left shoulder.
Mims will definitely be missed, but she has a date with Cheeto next year. Nice having a grade one quality mare around, isn't it? Maggie nodded, stroking a finger down the cobalt mare's face. Definitely. The attitude is something else. Though Freeze, Dame, Fie and Ashes will be our top dogs. We'll be set for a little while. Ripley nodded in agreement, glanced after Brooks as he lead both Freeze and Ashes down to their separate paddocks. The boys were definitely going to be playing an important role in the string.
As would the stocky dark horse before her and the elegant chestnut horse who was transforming into a green eyed monster. Ripley shouted when Mastermind began to bang on the stall door. He pinned his ears at her in annoyance. Clearly, he wanted her having nothing to do with Dazzling Dame. Ripley gave the Jessie James' filly one last pat and marched over to Speed Demon's colt. What do you want sir? Mastermind's ears went lopsided and eyes softened up. She shook her head, glanced at Justin. Tack her up and meet us out on the dirt track.
Justin smiled his broad smile at her before turning it on his pride and joy. She was finally his. They'd ridden in their first race together, a beautiful second place finish behind a tough horse in Wild Kiss. Next stop would be the Beverly D. and then the Breeders Cup Filly and Mare Turf. A harsh introduction for a newbie, but he had the horse and he knew her like the back of his hand. Dame tilted her head as he rubbed inside her eye, so clearly expressing her joy that Justin had to laugh. She was his filly through and through.
...
Ripley circled Mastermind up and down the homestretch of the racetrack. Her beautiful, eagle-eyed colt moved like water, bending to her every desire and every shape she wished upon him. His dark eyes glimmered with excitement, his nostrils flared to take in the scents of the track. He was ready to rock and roll, to feel the wind rush through his mane and to crush whatever stable mate they threw at him this time. Mastermind was quite the morning glory. He threw out workouts at the staff that just caused them to wonder over his potential greatness. However, lately the afternoon blooms weren't quite up to snuff. And Ripley wasn't sure why.
They'd gone over the elegant colt piece by piece, searching for some sort of injury. Finding none, Ripley was left wondering if something else was nagging the colt in his races. And so she was trying something that had likewise turned Indian Darling's performances around last year. Blinkers. The colt's ears were pricked and his whiskers were constantly twitching. He could feel the material fluttering around his face and he moved around like a train trying to feel his way. The cups blocked half of his vision on both sides. He would be able to see the noses of the competition, but would not be able to see how fast they were coming. Mastermind had gotten playful and lazy. Ripley's tactics with him had slowed him down. Now he needed to refocus. She patted his shoulder as she asked him to move into his long fluid trot.
The chestnut colt bounded along effortlessly, knees lifting in tandem, tail swinging over his dappled rump. There was never a horse that looked better than this one while on the muscle. His performances had tailed off a little, but he was still a champion two year old. She posted eagerly to his rhythm, talking to him without stopping, making sure to keep her voice upbeat and chipper. Mastermind bowed his head, pinned his ears and prepared to buck at her noisiness. He was used to the quiet, used to being allowed to do what he wanted. Not today. Today he was going to dazzle her and prove why he was her top two year old horse.
Justin and Dame watched from the gap as Ripley put Mastermind through his paces. Dame's ears were pricked straight, watching the Speed Demon colt's every movement. She was impressed and content to just stand around and watch. Her muscles twitched as if eager to join in the games, but Justin made her stand. Soon she was prancing sideways, tossing her head, flicking her tail rapidly and getting frustrated with being held in place. Justin grinned as she grabbed at the bit, moving her tongue around it and testing every nook and cranny of his control. Dame was not a lady in the sense of politeness. He was just about to have her trot off when Ripley called to him. He glanced up, maintaining half of his brain on Dame's every movement.
Gallop a mile, seven furlong breeze. With that, Ripley dropped her hands and sent Mastermind flying up the track. Dame hauled on his hands and Justin merely let go in response. There was no denying the herd flight instinct. He gripped her mane as she barreled along after her fleeter stable-mate, felt the speed kick up from her strong hind-end. Her dark body cruised over the ground giving the sense of flight rather than running. Justin leaned close as she drew up to Mastermind's haunches, her nostrils bringing in his scent. Her ears pinned back, but she made no more moves to get closer to the Speed Demon colt. She was content bringing up the caboose for now. Justin took up the reins again, letting her find her best gallop stride.
Mastermind was a rock-solid combination between turf and dirt runner. The chestnut could absolutely fly over both surfaces, though he definitely knew the difference. He always pulled harder on the dirt as if he knew that the name of the game changed depending on which surface you ran on. Dirt you ran fast for as long as you could and as hard as you could. Turf you ran with patience and a strong closing kick. Today, Mastermind was running fierce. His mouth attempted to snatch the aluminum bit out of Ripley's hands. His hooves beat loudly over the hardening dirt track and his eyes flashed with excitement. This was his game. Dame was on his territory today. His ear was pinned back to listen for her on the outside. He couldn't see her, but that fact merely made his game more intense.
A fire burned deep within both horses. It swept up and threatened to swallow their riders whole. The pair charged up the backstretch, wind whipping around their knife-like bodies. Dame fell back a little and Justin allowed it to happen. He knew Mastermind would be a little keener than usual due to the blinkers. He settled Dazzling Dame back, letting her go at her own pace and soon Mastermind was alone by three lengths. Justin could feel the relief in Dame. She was not a dirt horse. She had brutal speed and it was cruising, but she simply could not go at this blistering pace for a mile and seven furlongs. She lowered her head, gamboling along behind the fiery two year old before her.
Ripley knew when Dame fell back and so did Mastermind. However, the colt didn't relax like he normally would have. Ripley didn't allow for it. She wanted him to keep going. He needed to wake up and she wanted him surprised when Dazzling Dame caught up with them in the sixth and seventh furlong of the breeze. However, she did rate him down a little bit. He could not go at this pace and still be ready for the long breeze she had planned for him. He settled down, legs still moving rather quickly beneath his aerodynamic frame. His head lowered, his stride became longer and more relaxed. Mission accomplished.
Mastermind and Dame cruised through the homestretch, eagerly completing their mile gallop. There would be no time to catch their breath. Ripley nudged Mastermind forward and he picked up his racing pace again, flaming mane slapping Ripley in her delicate face. Dame was urged forward a length, but Justin was more patient than Ripley and a two length gap still remained. Justin could feel Dame revving up. Her solid body filled with adrenaline and her ears remained pin back into her mane. She was a fierce little filly, strong-minded and eager to run. But not yet. They were going to test Mastermind today on Ripley's orders.
Mastermind was now cruising through his usual high speed lead-up. He was in his glory today. Seven furlongs was right down the middle and his favorite distance to run. Ripley patted the colt's neck as they rushed down the backstretch. He was a brilliant machine today, felt as perfect as he had when he first started the season off. After the Breeders Cup he would get some time off. There was no rush to pick this horse back up so soon. There was no Triple Crown for him. Ripley was fine with that. They would let him mature into the fast son of a gun he was. But after the Breeders Cup Juvenile Sprint. Ripley leaned close, taking a hand-full of mane into her delicate hands. The colt felt her intensity and moved lower to the ground, stretching out as they neared the far turn.
Warning bells rang in Justin's brain. The far turn was nearing and when Mastermind dropped down like that, the other jocks knew it was time to get into gear. Mastermind's sheer brilliance could blow you off the map. Justin snatched up the reins and shook Dazzling Dame awake. The vibrant filly suddenly roared to life, making up the two lengths in a split-second and flying up to Mastermind's head. Ripley grinned when Mastermind's ears lifted straight on end. The colt had caught sight of Dame's nose alright. His knees lifted higher and he pushed mightily from the back in order to stay ahead as they cruised into the turn.
Dame pushed in when Mastermind's leaner body was nearly carried off by centrifugal force. His great stride was hampered and the filly brutally kept him pinned. Ripley grimaced when her short stirrups clashed with Justin's leg. Mastermind's stride was interrupted and suddenly it was Dame they were chasing. Her bug of a jockey was pumping her forward, eager to take advantage of Mastermind's non-response. A hoot from Ripley had Mastermind shaking awake, as if coming out of a coma. There was nothing worse for Mastermind than being bullied.
The Jessie James filly flew into the homestretch, cornering the turn so well that both Ripley and Justin had sparks of pride blistering in their chests. She spurted away to a five length lead, away from Mastermind and Ripley. The turf filly was bloody fast, no matter the surface it appeared. Ripley shook the reins at Mastermind and laughed maniacally when he erupted beneath her. There was no controlled fire burning within this colt. It was a dark fire, a wild fire. He hurtled after his older-counterpart, legs spreading over the track in a way that reminded Ripley and the grooms, Brooks, Maggie and Reese of race horse caricatures. But no one laughed. They were dead silent, even though their heart beats sounded like drums.
Silence, beside the ring of hoof-beats, filled the track as Mastermind closed the five furlongs in a simple succession of three long strides. A fourth drew him even with Dame. Ripley stopped urging at that point, wanting no more from the insanely angry colt. But he kept going, sticking to Dame for three strides, meeting her eye to eye, the only part of her he could see.
Justin felt Dame falter for a moment, as he himself did for a second. Mastermind was incredible mid-flight, domineering. He was in possession of a brilliant aura that you only got glimpses of in the barn, the paddock and the parade. Here he shined. A brief-second was all that it took for Mastermind to intimidate Dazzling Dame. Mastermind stopped playing games, lowered the gauntlet and then surged forward, a half-length in front at the wire.
A wolf whistle went up at the rail from Brooks. If I didn't know any better... I'd say Mastermind is back. Stunned into silence, the only thing the others could do was nod.
Dame and Mastermind cruised out around the far turn, slackening their pace on command. These horses knew where the wire was and knew the difference between race and post-gallop. Soon Dame and Mastermind were bickering like kids, pinning their eyes and cocking their hooves. Dame let out a fierce kick, nearly nailing Mastermind in the hind end. A shout from Ripley echoed through the equine brains and all intensity was lost. Dame was back in the driver's seat, second in command to Screaming Mimi herself, having completely forgotten about her loss to Mastermind.
Well that was something else. Justin said as they trotted the horses back to the gap. Ripley nodded. That's for sure. I almost wish the press was here. I may have to release something about our horses' conditions. Ripley put an arm around Justin's shoulder when he got close, ignoring the instinct flinch that the kid just could not banish. She did really well. That move she made on the far turn was absolutely fantastic. I am really impressed Justin. Justin grinned his half-smile, modesty flushing his cheeks. You think so?
I do! She'll be a champion mare for you next year. A grade one. Imagine a grade one mare in your first season as a jock. Justin's face glowed with excitement. There was nothing like racing to him, absolutely nothing at all. Ripley could feel that same passion burning inside her as she glanced down at Mastermind. She had plans to retire in five years, but man she was going to miss race riding. When you're barn was so loaded, it would be tough to walk away from being jock.
She kissed Mastermind's neck, stroking his mane. He blew her away, every workout, every race. He tempted her to keep riding. It was time he start blowing away the competition once again and start bringing people back to the track.
Brooks rubbed Van Guard's face, looking into his bright eyes. The colt's nostrils fluttered excitedly and his ears twitched from side to side. This horse had been here before, had trained over this surface before. Ripley sighed, leaned against Mastermind's stall. Her excited sculpture-esque colt watched the dark bay down the way with competitive eyes. Mastermind hadn't forgotten Van Guard either. His muscles twitched inside his stall, tail switched over his rump. His competitor was back in the house. Ripley patted the Speed Demon son's neck, grinning when he snake faced at her, keeping her from view of Native Flame's third son. Lately, Mastermind had become quite possessive over her. She hadn't been galloping him because of racing at The Wire, Intrepid, Akita Rose and Green Horse Fields. He missed her and it was nice to see that he did have portion of his heart dedicated to the Witch Creek staff.
Ripley crooned to him, rubbing his forelock away from his small star. The colt nickered quietly, beckoning her with sweetness to give more attention. She smiled and kissed his head. The colt closed his eyes. Mastermind was lightening up. It was a pleasure to see. She opened her eyes to examine the filly walking into the barn.
A huge gap separated the filly and Justin, a slack in the lead rope. Dazzling Dame was at the end, her large crested neck, gleaming as she passed from light to shadow. Her forelock was soaked with snow, as was her long dark tail. She twitched her soft nostrils as she stepped inside and her whole titan form stopped dead. Her eyes gleamed with anger when she spotted Strike The Win and Van Guard. Her body tensed into attack mode, but a quick snort from the opposite side of the barn had her turning away.
Ripley followed the filly's gaze and watched Screaming Mimi watch Dame. The black empress glared at Dame until the mahogany bay bowed her head and stepped quietly after Justin. And as quick as a snap, the potential conflict was over. Strike The Win and Van Guard went back to their stalls. Mims began to chow down on her hay and Dame stood irritably with a hoof cocked between cross-ties. Maggie stepped out of Mims' stall and patted the filly's neck. I'm going to miss this attitude of hers. We may have to bring Para over. She'd be better served in this barn than reigning in tyranny over with the younger group.
Ripley grinned as she ran her hands over Dazzling Dame's stocky legs. Paranormal Hunter, half to exciting sprinter prospect, Flashpoint, was Maggie's new Year Thirteen mount and also the newly committed Queen Bee. She was the head Gorgon, Medusa herself, according to Maggie. And no one argued. Para had laid down the law when Hourglass had gone to attack Supernatural. And now Hourglass was sporting a new scar on her left shoulder.
Mims will definitely be missed, but she has a date with Cheeto next year. Nice having a grade one quality mare around, isn't it? Maggie nodded, stroking a finger down the cobalt mare's face. Definitely. The attitude is something else. Though Freeze, Dame, Fie and Ashes will be our top dogs. We'll be set for a little while. Ripley nodded in agreement, glanced after Brooks as he lead both Freeze and Ashes down to their separate paddocks. The boys were definitely going to be playing an important role in the string.
As would the stocky dark horse before her and the elegant chestnut horse who was transforming into a green eyed monster. Ripley shouted when Mastermind began to bang on the stall door. He pinned his ears at her in annoyance. Clearly, he wanted her having nothing to do with Dazzling Dame. Ripley gave the Jessie James' filly one last pat and marched over to Speed Demon's colt. What do you want sir? Mastermind's ears went lopsided and eyes softened up. She shook her head, glanced at Justin. Tack her up and meet us out on the dirt track.
Justin smiled his broad smile at her before turning it on his pride and joy. She was finally his. They'd ridden in their first race together, a beautiful second place finish behind a tough horse in Wild Kiss. Next stop would be the Beverly D. and then the Breeders Cup Filly and Mare Turf. A harsh introduction for a newbie, but he had the horse and he knew her like the back of his hand. Dame tilted her head as he rubbed inside her eye, so clearly expressing her joy that Justin had to laugh. She was his filly through and through.
...
Ripley circled Mastermind up and down the homestretch of the racetrack. Her beautiful, eagle-eyed colt moved like water, bending to her every desire and every shape she wished upon him. His dark eyes glimmered with excitement, his nostrils flared to take in the scents of the track. He was ready to rock and roll, to feel the wind rush through his mane and to crush whatever stable mate they threw at him this time. Mastermind was quite the morning glory. He threw out workouts at the staff that just caused them to wonder over his potential greatness. However, lately the afternoon blooms weren't quite up to snuff. And Ripley wasn't sure why.
They'd gone over the elegant colt piece by piece, searching for some sort of injury. Finding none, Ripley was left wondering if something else was nagging the colt in his races. And so she was trying something that had likewise turned Indian Darling's performances around last year. Blinkers. The colt's ears were pricked and his whiskers were constantly twitching. He could feel the material fluttering around his face and he moved around like a train trying to feel his way. The cups blocked half of his vision on both sides. He would be able to see the noses of the competition, but would not be able to see how fast they were coming. Mastermind had gotten playful and lazy. Ripley's tactics with him had slowed him down. Now he needed to refocus. She patted his shoulder as she asked him to move into his long fluid trot.
The chestnut colt bounded along effortlessly, knees lifting in tandem, tail swinging over his dappled rump. There was never a horse that looked better than this one while on the muscle. His performances had tailed off a little, but he was still a champion two year old. She posted eagerly to his rhythm, talking to him without stopping, making sure to keep her voice upbeat and chipper. Mastermind bowed his head, pinned his ears and prepared to buck at her noisiness. He was used to the quiet, used to being allowed to do what he wanted. Not today. Today he was going to dazzle her and prove why he was her top two year old horse.
Justin and Dame watched from the gap as Ripley put Mastermind through his paces. Dame's ears were pricked straight, watching the Speed Demon colt's every movement. She was impressed and content to just stand around and watch. Her muscles twitched as if eager to join in the games, but Justin made her stand. Soon she was prancing sideways, tossing her head, flicking her tail rapidly and getting frustrated with being held in place. Justin grinned as she grabbed at the bit, moving her tongue around it and testing every nook and cranny of his control. Dame was not a lady in the sense of politeness. He was just about to have her trot off when Ripley called to him. He glanced up, maintaining half of his brain on Dame's every movement.
Gallop a mile, seven furlong breeze. With that, Ripley dropped her hands and sent Mastermind flying up the track. Dame hauled on his hands and Justin merely let go in response. There was no denying the herd flight instinct. He gripped her mane as she barreled along after her fleeter stable-mate, felt the speed kick up from her strong hind-end. Her dark body cruised over the ground giving the sense of flight rather than running. Justin leaned close as she drew up to Mastermind's haunches, her nostrils bringing in his scent. Her ears pinned back, but she made no more moves to get closer to the Speed Demon colt. She was content bringing up the caboose for now. Justin took up the reins again, letting her find her best gallop stride.
Mastermind was a rock-solid combination between turf and dirt runner. The chestnut could absolutely fly over both surfaces, though he definitely knew the difference. He always pulled harder on the dirt as if he knew that the name of the game changed depending on which surface you ran on. Dirt you ran fast for as long as you could and as hard as you could. Turf you ran with patience and a strong closing kick. Today, Mastermind was running fierce. His mouth attempted to snatch the aluminum bit out of Ripley's hands. His hooves beat loudly over the hardening dirt track and his eyes flashed with excitement. This was his game. Dame was on his territory today. His ear was pinned back to listen for her on the outside. He couldn't see her, but that fact merely made his game more intense.
A fire burned deep within both horses. It swept up and threatened to swallow their riders whole. The pair charged up the backstretch, wind whipping around their knife-like bodies. Dame fell back a little and Justin allowed it to happen. He knew Mastermind would be a little keener than usual due to the blinkers. He settled Dazzling Dame back, letting her go at her own pace and soon Mastermind was alone by three lengths. Justin could feel the relief in Dame. She was not a dirt horse. She had brutal speed and it was cruising, but she simply could not go at this blistering pace for a mile and seven furlongs. She lowered her head, gamboling along behind the fiery two year old before her.
Ripley knew when Dame fell back and so did Mastermind. However, the colt didn't relax like he normally would have. Ripley didn't allow for it. She wanted him to keep going. He needed to wake up and she wanted him surprised when Dazzling Dame caught up with them in the sixth and seventh furlong of the breeze. However, she did rate him down a little bit. He could not go at this pace and still be ready for the long breeze she had planned for him. He settled down, legs still moving rather quickly beneath his aerodynamic frame. His head lowered, his stride became longer and more relaxed. Mission accomplished.
Mastermind and Dame cruised through the homestretch, eagerly completing their mile gallop. There would be no time to catch their breath. Ripley nudged Mastermind forward and he picked up his racing pace again, flaming mane slapping Ripley in her delicate face. Dame was urged forward a length, but Justin was more patient than Ripley and a two length gap still remained. Justin could feel Dame revving up. Her solid body filled with adrenaline and her ears remained pin back into her mane. She was a fierce little filly, strong-minded and eager to run. But not yet. They were going to test Mastermind today on Ripley's orders.
Mastermind was now cruising through his usual high speed lead-up. He was in his glory today. Seven furlongs was right down the middle and his favorite distance to run. Ripley patted the colt's neck as they rushed down the backstretch. He was a brilliant machine today, felt as perfect as he had when he first started the season off. After the Breeders Cup he would get some time off. There was no rush to pick this horse back up so soon. There was no Triple Crown for him. Ripley was fine with that. They would let him mature into the fast son of a gun he was. But after the Breeders Cup Juvenile Sprint. Ripley leaned close, taking a hand-full of mane into her delicate hands. The colt felt her intensity and moved lower to the ground, stretching out as they neared the far turn.
Warning bells rang in Justin's brain. The far turn was nearing and when Mastermind dropped down like that, the other jocks knew it was time to get into gear. Mastermind's sheer brilliance could blow you off the map. Justin snatched up the reins and shook Dazzling Dame awake. The vibrant filly suddenly roared to life, making up the two lengths in a split-second and flying up to Mastermind's head. Ripley grinned when Mastermind's ears lifted straight on end. The colt had caught sight of Dame's nose alright. His knees lifted higher and he pushed mightily from the back in order to stay ahead as they cruised into the turn.
Dame pushed in when Mastermind's leaner body was nearly carried off by centrifugal force. His great stride was hampered and the filly brutally kept him pinned. Ripley grimaced when her short stirrups clashed with Justin's leg. Mastermind's stride was interrupted and suddenly it was Dame they were chasing. Her bug of a jockey was pumping her forward, eager to take advantage of Mastermind's non-response. A hoot from Ripley had Mastermind shaking awake, as if coming out of a coma. There was nothing worse for Mastermind than being bullied.
The Jessie James filly flew into the homestretch, cornering the turn so well that both Ripley and Justin had sparks of pride blistering in their chests. She spurted away to a five length lead, away from Mastermind and Ripley. The turf filly was bloody fast, no matter the surface it appeared. Ripley shook the reins at Mastermind and laughed maniacally when he erupted beneath her. There was no controlled fire burning within this colt. It was a dark fire, a wild fire. He hurtled after his older-counterpart, legs spreading over the track in a way that reminded Ripley and the grooms, Brooks, Maggie and Reese of race horse caricatures. But no one laughed. They were dead silent, even though their heart beats sounded like drums.
Silence, beside the ring of hoof-beats, filled the track as Mastermind closed the five furlongs in a simple succession of three long strides. A fourth drew him even with Dame. Ripley stopped urging at that point, wanting no more from the insanely angry colt. But he kept going, sticking to Dame for three strides, meeting her eye to eye, the only part of her he could see.
Justin felt Dame falter for a moment, as he himself did for a second. Mastermind was incredible mid-flight, domineering. He was in possession of a brilliant aura that you only got glimpses of in the barn, the paddock and the parade. Here he shined. A brief-second was all that it took for Mastermind to intimidate Dazzling Dame. Mastermind stopped playing games, lowered the gauntlet and then surged forward, a half-length in front at the wire.
A wolf whistle went up at the rail from Brooks. If I didn't know any better... I'd say Mastermind is back. Stunned into silence, the only thing the others could do was nod.
Dame and Mastermind cruised out around the far turn, slackening their pace on command. These horses knew where the wire was and knew the difference between race and post-gallop. Soon Dame and Mastermind were bickering like kids, pinning their eyes and cocking their hooves. Dame let out a fierce kick, nearly nailing Mastermind in the hind end. A shout from Ripley echoed through the equine brains and all intensity was lost. Dame was back in the driver's seat, second in command to Screaming Mimi herself, having completely forgotten about her loss to Mastermind.
Well that was something else. Justin said as they trotted the horses back to the gap. Ripley nodded. That's for sure. I almost wish the press was here. I may have to release something about our horses' conditions. Ripley put an arm around Justin's shoulder when he got close, ignoring the instinct flinch that the kid just could not banish. She did really well. That move she made on the far turn was absolutely fantastic. I am really impressed Justin. Justin grinned his half-smile, modesty flushing his cheeks. You think so?
I do! She'll be a champion mare for you next year. A grade one. Imagine a grade one mare in your first season as a jock. Justin's face glowed with excitement. There was nothing like racing to him, absolutely nothing at all. Ripley could feel that same passion burning inside her as she glanced down at Mastermind. She had plans to retire in five years, but man she was going to miss race riding. When you're barn was so loaded, it would be tough to walk away from being jock.
She kissed Mastermind's neck, stroking his mane. He blew her away, every workout, every race. He tempted her to keep riding. It was time he start blowing away the competition once again and start bringing people back to the track.
royal freeze
Courtesy of Event of the Year Photos.
Brooks and Maggie shook their heads as Mastermind and Dazzling Dame cooled out down the center aisle of the barn. It would be a tough workout to follow up, but they had the horses to do it. Frozen Motion and GS Royal Crown were not exactly in the limelight as they had been over the spring and summer, but they were about as consistent as anything else in the barn and both of them were tough as nails.
Freeze and Crow stood side by side in their stalls, keen eyes narrowed on Mastermind and Dame's eager forms. Neither horse had really calmed down from their workout yet. Their nostrils were flared and their breathing was excited. Their presence had brought most every horse in the racing string barn to their doors. Everyone's mind was pointed in the direction of the track. Everyone wanted to go and get their morning exercise. Ripley came out of Freeze's stall, hands empty after putting polo wraps on both the three year old and two year old turf colts.
She didn't want to risk a cut so close to Breeders Cup. A cut could put training off for a week, a risk that Ripley certainly didn't want to work around. Freeze bowed his head, snuffling her back pocket to Maggie and Brooks' delight. Ripley turned, a soft smile on her lips, when she was met with two curious, bright eyed colts. Crow tilted his head, his eyes widened and his mouth moving. Turning the cute look on. Ripley shook her head, relented and dug into her pocket, removing two pieces of peppermint candy. The colts nickered and Freeze pawed at the shavings in his stall. Drool fell from their mouths and they were captured in pure equine bliss.
Begone, both of you. Ripley stepped away before they could finish their treats and beg for more. She pulled off her riding helmet and took her stick out of her back pocket. She never used it during riding, but it was a comfort. Shaking her hair out, she turned to Brooks and Maggie. Her assistant trainer and top jock looked at her with almost-as-eager eyes as their mounts. Ripley snorted. You two as well. She lead the way into the office and sat at her chair. She had a couple horses to enter into races and an article to write up while they tacked Freeze and Crow up for their workout.
Brooks leaned against the door jamb, eyeing Ripley's neat desk. So what's your plan for today Marsh? Ripley didn't look up when Maggie sat in the chair across from her. Mile workout, seven furlong breeze. Same exact workout we gave Mastermind and Dame. Brooks and Maggie shared a look, wondering at the prickliness of Ripley's voice. She glanced up, eyebrows lifted. One more workout today and then I need you two to head into town for grain. Maggie tilted her head? Who?
Ripley smiled, teeth barely showing. Well our brand new colt and filly of course. Van Guard needs to get back into the game and Paranormal Hunter gets her very first breeze today. Only a mile gallop and three furlong workout for them. It's obnoxious to have to start all over again for Van, but it will do.
Brooks nodded in complete agreement. He would be the colt's mount for now. Maggie had ridden the beastly boy when he'd been here before, but obviously she would be riding Para in this exercise. How come we didn't breeze the other yearlings yet Ripley? Ripley sighed, tired of having to explain herself. She needed a vacation. Para is a ways ahead in her training and she is an absolute terror. I need her on the track before I ban her to the paddocks in the middle of winter.
Brooks and Maggie shared a chortle before leaving their prickly manager to her duties. The pair lead their gray colts out to the cross-ties examining both of their lithe frames. They looked more and more like one another every day. Crow was beginning to beef up and Freeze was as muscled as he ever was. He hadn't taken a bad step in his life and still was on top of his game after a hard year of racing. Brooks patted the colt's neck affectionately. He loved his partner in crime. They were meant to be together through everything.
Maggie took a good long hard look at her steel gray colt. GS Royal Crown was as tough as they came and hadn't placed out of the money since July. However, he hadn't been winning and the question was why. The horse was too excitable for blinkers and Maggie had suggested to Ripley that it was the length of his workouts that made him bored. It looked more and more like Crow would not be the Turf Triple Crown prospect for Year Thirteen. Rather that honor could be headed in Reese's direction aboard Bella Luna. Crow just got bored the longer he ran. Maggie ran a finger down his handsome face. She had to admit that he had more of a miler's profile anyway. Seven and eight furlongs was where the colt belonged. And like Mastermind, Crow would not be in any hurry to make the early three year old races. Maggie would be fine with that. The colt needed sometime to be a horse after all.
Brooks was eager to get Freeze moving. He still wasn't positive as to where Frozen Motion was running in the Breeders Cup. His second to last race before the Cup would be in the Deadly Desires Memorial Stakes, an eight furlong race. Freeze could run a mile quite well, almost as well as he could a marathon. In either case he would be stretching from a mile to ten furlongs or twelve furlongs. Either the Breeders Cup Turf or the Breeders Cup Turf Marathon. Ripley had yet to commit, though last time Brooks had heard about it, the Marathon had been her choice for the Spitz son.
Brooks ran a comb through the colt's dark mane, appreciating the scopeyness of his mount. Freeze was a gloriously built animal. Tough, rugged, and handsome. He was adored by many of the press and regular fans. He just had the attitude of a workman. He was approachable where arch-rival Infinite Warcry, seemed like an elitist, a horse hidden away in the shadows. Brooks would take Freeze over Infini any day, just as Amber Black would take Infinite Warcry over Freeze. It was the way of things unfortunately. Freeze needed a good ol' fashioned wake up call and their would be no wake up call better than his favorite workmate, GS Royal Crown.
...
Crow and Freeze trotted happily alongside each other over the dirt course at Witch Creek. As with most horses in the string, Freeze and Crow had taken nicely to the loamy soil of the dirt track despite their turf backgrounds. Their lean mean fighting-machine forms swung easily over the long track, their eyes blazed with excitement. Crow let out a buck and a squeal setting Freeze off into a bucking and bolting fit of his own.
Brooks laughed as the horse took off, excited to see a little pep in the relatively quiet colt. Sometimes he forgot that he road a flesh-and-blood stallion. Frozen Motion had a kind and smart nature that you didn't see a lot in colts or stallions. His fine form danced over the dirt track, kicking up clumps into the chilly air. Brooks settled into the now calmer gallop, lowering his hands down the reins and giving Freeze his head. The colt's ears cocked back to listen for Crow.
Maggie was busy holding the steel gray colt in tight. The frustrated two year old plunged up and down like dramatic sea waves, venting his annoyance at being held. He wanted to run and gun, to give Freeze a run for his well-developed money. Fire burned within Crow's handsome eyes and his inner speed was threatening to break loose like gasoline on fire. Maggie lifted her hands, battling Crow's tough fight for the bit. Freeze was now ten lengths in front and moving faster. They had a mile long gallop and a seven furlong workout. Maggie wanted Crow far enough that he would have something to chase in the workout portion.
Brooks glanced under his arm and shook his head when he saw how far back Crow was. He wondered what Maggie was up to, but quickly forgot about the steel gray colt. Freeze was absolutely in command as they went into the backstretch. His stride lengthened impressively as he straightened out and his mane and tail flew out behind him. He'd forgotten about GS Royal Crown as well. It'd been a while since the Iron Horse had worked by himself. Brooks gave the strong colt a pat on his neck as he marched over the dirt track.
That's it boy, Maggie called to Crow. The colt had quieted down, but he was still pulling mightily on the bit as he chased Freeze off the first turn. The dappled gray colt was still ten lengths in front of them, going nice and easy. Maggie's colt on the other hand was cruising. He had such a strange stride when he was running. He felt faster than he actually was moving. It sounded as though it could backfire on them during a race, but it was a habit that occurred during a workout. He was the complete opposite during the races. The colt zipped along like a rabbit, legs streaking beneath him. His head lifted higher with every stride, compelling Maggie to release some of the tension in the reins.
Crow's eyes sparked with annoyance when he quickly tightened up the leather with his pace. He was now six lengths behind Freeze and not getting any closer. He began to settle in again just the way Maggie wanted and expected from her exciting two year old competitor. He still switched his tail up and down her back, but he was moving much more nicely now and not so tense on the bit.
Brooks checked again beneath his arm. Crow was closer, but not very threatening. Freeze still wasn't interested. He was doing his own thing on the lead, not worried in the least. The dappled gray charger, elongated himself still more, head bobbing politely just above his knees. He was a neat horse this one. A true fan favorite. Brooks only had to lean closer and put a pinkie on the reins and Freeze would be off, flying over the dirt like he belonged.
The rest of the gallop went by handily for both colts. Both of them were eager to get into some real running though. Crow's body was becoming tougher on Maggie and her arms were becoming tighter in tiredness as they passed through the wire. Frozen Motion was awakening up ahead, a twitch from Brooks and the colt was moving off into a racing stride. Maggie waited until Freeze was ten-eleven lengths in front before releasing Crow.
GS Royal Crown surged forward as if he'd been shot from a cannon. His hooves barely touched the ground as he flew over the track, his nostrils spread wide to take in larger amounts of air. Everything, his muscles, his blood, his brain was directed to improving the conditions for more speed. Maggie leaned close to the colt's neck as he sprinted into the back stretch. Freeze was loping along, content with the pace he was setting for himself, while he stalker gunned for him. Maggie slowed the colt down when they were about four lengths behind the dappled gray stable-mate. She didn't want Crow to catch up too quick. He was revved up already, but she wanted more energy. She wanted her old fiery mount back. She wanted the fire burning for a win.
Brooks could hear Crow coming and he knew for a fact that Freeze could as well. The older horse was still moving confidently, however, his ears were locked back to listen. Brooks twitched his pinkie and smiled when the Spitz colt did exactly what he knew he would. He dropped into another gear, gathered his stride and burst forward with a nice kick. He set another length between himself and Crow, relaxing nicely. He was a front runner, but few horses ran on the front end the way he did. He did not get pressured. He did not get stalked and falter because of it. He was his own horse. He was a front runner, but he didn't need the lead. The press and the other people ran at Freeze like he was a need the lead type. Brooks gritted his teeth with anger. They had no respect for this horse whatsoever. He was not a joke. Sure he was no Infinite Warcry, but he wasn't a closer anyway. He wasn't a cat toying with a mouse.
Freeze took off, egged on by his rider's growing fury. The distance continued to mount between the dappled gray and his younger stable mate until it was back again at ten lengths. Maggie's lips were pursed. Freeze was getting rather far ahead and she knew for a fact he wasn't tiring. The colt had more stamina than any horse. He would be able to outlast any sprinter, any miler, any ten furlong horse, any eleven furlong horse and most twelve furlong horses. There was no horse more dangerous than Frozen Motion when given his way.
At the 3/8th's pole, Maggie booted Crow along. The steel gray erupted beneath her as if he'd been waiting for the signal for a while now. He stormed up the track, spreading himself out and making up the distance quite rapidly. He was running to his natural strength. He was a stalker and mid-packer himself. He would be Freeze's Infinite Warcry for today. Maggie leaned close, head moving side by side with Crow's pumping gray neck. He swept over the dirt, close to the rail and even cornered better than expectations had been. Freeze was four lengths in front and Brooks was looking for them. Maggie could feel it. Freeze was waiting on them to do battle.
She swung her gray horse further outside, wanting no part of the lion that rested within Freeze's body. Crow moved as she pleased, skipping agilely down the middle of the track. Three lengths, two lengths... and Freeze noticed them. The dappled gray pinned his ears, attempted to rush out at them, but a quick snap of the reins had the colt running straight as an arrow again. No greenness would help beat GS Royal Crown.
Though feet separated them, Crow and Freeze battled like dogs up the stretch. Neck, head, nose bobbed in tandem as their legs carried them to the finish line. Brooks twitched his finger just as Maggie hooted. Freeze leaped. Crow charged. Freeze's neck was the final distance at the wire. He was still the reigning champ between these two. Crow, however, didn't know he lost. His head flew up and he mouthed the bit as he galloped out, ears pricked. Maggie hugged his neck, forgetting herself. He was such a good boy. Crow squealed and let out a girly buck, not powerful enough to remove Maggie from his back. She held tight to her seat and beamed at Brooks and Freeze who cantered alongside them.
That felt fantastic didn't it? Maggie called eagerly. Brooks nodded, running his hands up and down the mane of his prized mount. Beyond amazing. He can outlast anyone Maggie. I'm telling you that this was not even his best year. Wait til next year. Brooks planted a kiss on the colt's warm neck. Freeze flicked his ears as he nobly accepted the given affection. He was out of this world fantastic. Maggie shivered as she took in both of their colts. Both of them were out of this world and both of them had their best years ahead of them.
Freeze and Crow stood side by side in their stalls, keen eyes narrowed on Mastermind and Dame's eager forms. Neither horse had really calmed down from their workout yet. Their nostrils were flared and their breathing was excited. Their presence had brought most every horse in the racing string barn to their doors. Everyone's mind was pointed in the direction of the track. Everyone wanted to go and get their morning exercise. Ripley came out of Freeze's stall, hands empty after putting polo wraps on both the three year old and two year old turf colts.
She didn't want to risk a cut so close to Breeders Cup. A cut could put training off for a week, a risk that Ripley certainly didn't want to work around. Freeze bowed his head, snuffling her back pocket to Maggie and Brooks' delight. Ripley turned, a soft smile on her lips, when she was met with two curious, bright eyed colts. Crow tilted his head, his eyes widened and his mouth moving. Turning the cute look on. Ripley shook her head, relented and dug into her pocket, removing two pieces of peppermint candy. The colts nickered and Freeze pawed at the shavings in his stall. Drool fell from their mouths and they were captured in pure equine bliss.
Begone, both of you. Ripley stepped away before they could finish their treats and beg for more. She pulled off her riding helmet and took her stick out of her back pocket. She never used it during riding, but it was a comfort. Shaking her hair out, she turned to Brooks and Maggie. Her assistant trainer and top jock looked at her with almost-as-eager eyes as their mounts. Ripley snorted. You two as well. She lead the way into the office and sat at her chair. She had a couple horses to enter into races and an article to write up while they tacked Freeze and Crow up for their workout.
Brooks leaned against the door jamb, eyeing Ripley's neat desk. So what's your plan for today Marsh? Ripley didn't look up when Maggie sat in the chair across from her. Mile workout, seven furlong breeze. Same exact workout we gave Mastermind and Dame. Brooks and Maggie shared a look, wondering at the prickliness of Ripley's voice. She glanced up, eyebrows lifted. One more workout today and then I need you two to head into town for grain. Maggie tilted her head? Who?
Ripley smiled, teeth barely showing. Well our brand new colt and filly of course. Van Guard needs to get back into the game and Paranormal Hunter gets her very first breeze today. Only a mile gallop and three furlong workout for them. It's obnoxious to have to start all over again for Van, but it will do.
Brooks nodded in complete agreement. He would be the colt's mount for now. Maggie had ridden the beastly boy when he'd been here before, but obviously she would be riding Para in this exercise. How come we didn't breeze the other yearlings yet Ripley? Ripley sighed, tired of having to explain herself. She needed a vacation. Para is a ways ahead in her training and she is an absolute terror. I need her on the track before I ban her to the paddocks in the middle of winter.
Brooks and Maggie shared a chortle before leaving their prickly manager to her duties. The pair lead their gray colts out to the cross-ties examining both of their lithe frames. They looked more and more like one another every day. Crow was beginning to beef up and Freeze was as muscled as he ever was. He hadn't taken a bad step in his life and still was on top of his game after a hard year of racing. Brooks patted the colt's neck affectionately. He loved his partner in crime. They were meant to be together through everything.
Maggie took a good long hard look at her steel gray colt. GS Royal Crown was as tough as they came and hadn't placed out of the money since July. However, he hadn't been winning and the question was why. The horse was too excitable for blinkers and Maggie had suggested to Ripley that it was the length of his workouts that made him bored. It looked more and more like Crow would not be the Turf Triple Crown prospect for Year Thirteen. Rather that honor could be headed in Reese's direction aboard Bella Luna. Crow just got bored the longer he ran. Maggie ran a finger down his handsome face. She had to admit that he had more of a miler's profile anyway. Seven and eight furlongs was where the colt belonged. And like Mastermind, Crow would not be in any hurry to make the early three year old races. Maggie would be fine with that. The colt needed sometime to be a horse after all.
Brooks was eager to get Freeze moving. He still wasn't positive as to where Frozen Motion was running in the Breeders Cup. His second to last race before the Cup would be in the Deadly Desires Memorial Stakes, an eight furlong race. Freeze could run a mile quite well, almost as well as he could a marathon. In either case he would be stretching from a mile to ten furlongs or twelve furlongs. Either the Breeders Cup Turf or the Breeders Cup Turf Marathon. Ripley had yet to commit, though last time Brooks had heard about it, the Marathon had been her choice for the Spitz son.
Brooks ran a comb through the colt's dark mane, appreciating the scopeyness of his mount. Freeze was a gloriously built animal. Tough, rugged, and handsome. He was adored by many of the press and regular fans. He just had the attitude of a workman. He was approachable where arch-rival Infinite Warcry, seemed like an elitist, a horse hidden away in the shadows. Brooks would take Freeze over Infini any day, just as Amber Black would take Infinite Warcry over Freeze. It was the way of things unfortunately. Freeze needed a good ol' fashioned wake up call and their would be no wake up call better than his favorite workmate, GS Royal Crown.
...
Crow and Freeze trotted happily alongside each other over the dirt course at Witch Creek. As with most horses in the string, Freeze and Crow had taken nicely to the loamy soil of the dirt track despite their turf backgrounds. Their lean mean fighting-machine forms swung easily over the long track, their eyes blazed with excitement. Crow let out a buck and a squeal setting Freeze off into a bucking and bolting fit of his own.
Brooks laughed as the horse took off, excited to see a little pep in the relatively quiet colt. Sometimes he forgot that he road a flesh-and-blood stallion. Frozen Motion had a kind and smart nature that you didn't see a lot in colts or stallions. His fine form danced over the dirt track, kicking up clumps into the chilly air. Brooks settled into the now calmer gallop, lowering his hands down the reins and giving Freeze his head. The colt's ears cocked back to listen for Crow.
Maggie was busy holding the steel gray colt in tight. The frustrated two year old plunged up and down like dramatic sea waves, venting his annoyance at being held. He wanted to run and gun, to give Freeze a run for his well-developed money. Fire burned within Crow's handsome eyes and his inner speed was threatening to break loose like gasoline on fire. Maggie lifted her hands, battling Crow's tough fight for the bit. Freeze was now ten lengths in front and moving faster. They had a mile long gallop and a seven furlong workout. Maggie wanted Crow far enough that he would have something to chase in the workout portion.
Brooks glanced under his arm and shook his head when he saw how far back Crow was. He wondered what Maggie was up to, but quickly forgot about the steel gray colt. Freeze was absolutely in command as they went into the backstretch. His stride lengthened impressively as he straightened out and his mane and tail flew out behind him. He'd forgotten about GS Royal Crown as well. It'd been a while since the Iron Horse had worked by himself. Brooks gave the strong colt a pat on his neck as he marched over the dirt track.
That's it boy, Maggie called to Crow. The colt had quieted down, but he was still pulling mightily on the bit as he chased Freeze off the first turn. The dappled gray colt was still ten lengths in front of them, going nice and easy. Maggie's colt on the other hand was cruising. He had such a strange stride when he was running. He felt faster than he actually was moving. It sounded as though it could backfire on them during a race, but it was a habit that occurred during a workout. He was the complete opposite during the races. The colt zipped along like a rabbit, legs streaking beneath him. His head lifted higher with every stride, compelling Maggie to release some of the tension in the reins.
Crow's eyes sparked with annoyance when he quickly tightened up the leather with his pace. He was now six lengths behind Freeze and not getting any closer. He began to settle in again just the way Maggie wanted and expected from her exciting two year old competitor. He still switched his tail up and down her back, but he was moving much more nicely now and not so tense on the bit.
Brooks checked again beneath his arm. Crow was closer, but not very threatening. Freeze still wasn't interested. He was doing his own thing on the lead, not worried in the least. The dappled gray charger, elongated himself still more, head bobbing politely just above his knees. He was a neat horse this one. A true fan favorite. Brooks only had to lean closer and put a pinkie on the reins and Freeze would be off, flying over the dirt like he belonged.
The rest of the gallop went by handily for both colts. Both of them were eager to get into some real running though. Crow's body was becoming tougher on Maggie and her arms were becoming tighter in tiredness as they passed through the wire. Frozen Motion was awakening up ahead, a twitch from Brooks and the colt was moving off into a racing stride. Maggie waited until Freeze was ten-eleven lengths in front before releasing Crow.
GS Royal Crown surged forward as if he'd been shot from a cannon. His hooves barely touched the ground as he flew over the track, his nostrils spread wide to take in larger amounts of air. Everything, his muscles, his blood, his brain was directed to improving the conditions for more speed. Maggie leaned close to the colt's neck as he sprinted into the back stretch. Freeze was loping along, content with the pace he was setting for himself, while he stalker gunned for him. Maggie slowed the colt down when they were about four lengths behind the dappled gray stable-mate. She didn't want Crow to catch up too quick. He was revved up already, but she wanted more energy. She wanted her old fiery mount back. She wanted the fire burning for a win.
Brooks could hear Crow coming and he knew for a fact that Freeze could as well. The older horse was still moving confidently, however, his ears were locked back to listen. Brooks twitched his pinkie and smiled when the Spitz colt did exactly what he knew he would. He dropped into another gear, gathered his stride and burst forward with a nice kick. He set another length between himself and Crow, relaxing nicely. He was a front runner, but few horses ran on the front end the way he did. He did not get pressured. He did not get stalked and falter because of it. He was his own horse. He was a front runner, but he didn't need the lead. The press and the other people ran at Freeze like he was a need the lead type. Brooks gritted his teeth with anger. They had no respect for this horse whatsoever. He was not a joke. Sure he was no Infinite Warcry, but he wasn't a closer anyway. He wasn't a cat toying with a mouse.
Freeze took off, egged on by his rider's growing fury. The distance continued to mount between the dappled gray and his younger stable mate until it was back again at ten lengths. Maggie's lips were pursed. Freeze was getting rather far ahead and she knew for a fact he wasn't tiring. The colt had more stamina than any horse. He would be able to outlast any sprinter, any miler, any ten furlong horse, any eleven furlong horse and most twelve furlong horses. There was no horse more dangerous than Frozen Motion when given his way.
At the 3/8th's pole, Maggie booted Crow along. The steel gray erupted beneath her as if he'd been waiting for the signal for a while now. He stormed up the track, spreading himself out and making up the distance quite rapidly. He was running to his natural strength. He was a stalker and mid-packer himself. He would be Freeze's Infinite Warcry for today. Maggie leaned close, head moving side by side with Crow's pumping gray neck. He swept over the dirt, close to the rail and even cornered better than expectations had been. Freeze was four lengths in front and Brooks was looking for them. Maggie could feel it. Freeze was waiting on them to do battle.
She swung her gray horse further outside, wanting no part of the lion that rested within Freeze's body. Crow moved as she pleased, skipping agilely down the middle of the track. Three lengths, two lengths... and Freeze noticed them. The dappled gray pinned his ears, attempted to rush out at them, but a quick snap of the reins had the colt running straight as an arrow again. No greenness would help beat GS Royal Crown.
Though feet separated them, Crow and Freeze battled like dogs up the stretch. Neck, head, nose bobbed in tandem as their legs carried them to the finish line. Brooks twitched his finger just as Maggie hooted. Freeze leaped. Crow charged. Freeze's neck was the final distance at the wire. He was still the reigning champ between these two. Crow, however, didn't know he lost. His head flew up and he mouthed the bit as he galloped out, ears pricked. Maggie hugged his neck, forgetting herself. He was such a good boy. Crow squealed and let out a girly buck, not powerful enough to remove Maggie from his back. She held tight to her seat and beamed at Brooks and Freeze who cantered alongside them.
That felt fantastic didn't it? Maggie called eagerly. Brooks nodded, running his hands up and down the mane of his prized mount. Beyond amazing. He can outlast anyone Maggie. I'm telling you that this was not even his best year. Wait til next year. Brooks planted a kiss on the colt's warm neck. Freeze flicked his ears as he nobly accepted the given affection. He was out of this world fantastic. Maggie shivered as she took in both of their colts. Both of them were out of this world and both of them had their best years ahead of them.
guard yourself
Courtesy of Event of the Year Photos.
Ripley and Brooks were dumping grain in the main racing barn when they heard the crash. Their green and blue eyes lit up, their skin fluttered with goose steps and they off and running nearly as fast as one of Ripley's prized Thoroughbreds. The crash had come from what was currently the yearling barn. The horses in that barn in particular were in a very delicate situation, they were the future of Year Thirteen.
Ripley was into the barn first, her swifter legs carrying her across the ground faster. She whipped open one door, fearful that a sprinting horse may be on the other end of it. Inside her groom Connor was sprawled across the floor, holding his head as he attempted to get up from an apparent attack. Ripley rushed to his aid, noting the wheelbarrow dumped in the middle of the aisle. Connor looked up, his dark eyes ablaze with annoyance and some dark humor. If you were going to set the hounds on me, couldn't you have told me the night before?
Ripley looked up to see her newest yearling standing proudly at the entrance of her stall. She did not step over the threshold, though her shavings certainly tumbled over it. Her tiny star was supported between two fiercely lit eyes and she looked furious with her ears pinned back into a flowing mane. Her body was well-rounded and she looked to be a little over-fed. She was merely a few inches smaller than Prima Donna, but her weight gave her more of an appearance of bulk.
Ripley stood up, watching the filly's ears flick in the direction of Brooks, though her left eye turned to stay on Ripley. The filly nickered curiously, but her ears remained pinned. Did she bite you Connor? Ripley asked when she caught something hanging from the corner of the Flash Limit's filly's mouth. She pulled the side of my shirt clean off. Ripley snorted and grabbed the black rope halter from the hook. Flinging the lead rope over the bay's neck, Ripley began to pull the filly together. She glanced over at the feeding bucket and noted the fact that it was completely empty, not a speck of grain remained.
Ripley patted the solid filly's neck, grinning. Good girl. I see you like the food we prepare for you. Not picky in the least. Para eyed Ripley curiously, but her frame was more relaxed and she showed no signs of attacking. What? Did you get near her feed bucket?
Connor glared at Ripley as he brushed himself off. Brooks was busy holding in the laughter while he attempted to clean up the spilled wheelbarrow. I forgot she is the touchy one. I couldn't remember if it was her or the new broodmare. Ripley laughed, shaking her head. Nope, it's this one. Strike The Win wouldn't hurt a fly. She's too ladylike. Ripley patted the coltish filly one more time as she lead her out to the cross-ties. The bay swung her head around to analyze the mess she created and if Ripley was the horsewoman that she proclaimed to be there was definitely some humor glinting in those dark eyes. Just keep her in cross-ties while you clean her stall from now on Connor. It's not worth the torn shirt. Connor stuck his tongue out at Ripley as she walked away, back toward the main barn. He glared at Para, but the filly wasn't impressed. Instead she was busy trying to get as close as possible to Supernatural's stall door. The white filly stood at the entrance, not cowed in the least by the beggar.
Brooks patted Connor's back. Maggie should be in soon to take her off your hands. Connor nodded and began to clean once again, muttering about fillies who could not keep their mouths to themselves.
Brooks walked back into the racing barn to find that Ripley had pulled Van Guard out of his stall. The dark bay colt looked absolutely the monster he was bred to be. Brooks had forgotten how spectacular this colt had been and wondered if he'd grown more so during his time away from Witch Creek. The colt eyed Brooks with a baleful gaze, not impressed in the least. He had started two times with Witch Creek when he'd been sold the first time. He'd placed third and first as a rather young two year old. Now, he was all muscle, loaded with it in fact. Though some of him was rolly-polly due to being on down time, it would come off easily in training. So when are we starting this colt again?
December Week Three. Ripley grinned, The week before Darla comes back. Brooks shook his head. Also the week of the Breeders Cup. You sure we'll have time to run them around Marsh?
I'll make time, Brooks. Just because we're at the high end, doesn't mean we forget the ones who got us there. And no worries, you'll be the one staying behind with the Breeders Cup stock at GHF. I can only take that place for so long. Brooks shot her a look, but she ignored it. Her hands were busy running down Van's thick legs, searching for any type of heat. He was built like a defensive lineman. Strong in the shoulders, in the upper legs, and heavy in the back end. She could appreciate his size, knowing that Native Flame had been just a bit taller at this age. However, for all the size, and like his sire, Van Guard had never been off in his young life. The sturdiness of this line was appreciated as well.
What do you think of him, Brooks? Brooks stepped up to the colt's blocky head and looked him over. He was a handsome son of a gun. He had a tough mind, a what-are-you-looking-at kind of personality. Brooks played with the colt's forelock. And yet... he was kind. He never put a toe out of line on the ground, could be handled in any situation. If anything, he liked to be overhandled. The horse dropped his head down level to his shoulders, taking in the pats and the strokes. The lineman had a soft side as well. I keep remembering his first workout Ripley. He looked glorious under Maggie that day. A big, powerful stride and no time clock could keep up with him. If our racing system wasn't set up like it was, I'd put him down as my favorite for the Triple Crown. But with the racing system the way it is, we probably won't even make the Kentucky Derby with any of our prospects this year. And if we do with Red Herring, we won't be able to compete in the final jewel.
Ripley nodded sadly in agreement. It was an odd predicament they were in. And she had to admit that part of it was her fault. Things had gotten tangled with the bills come may and she had to sell of Van Guard to Triple Krown once again. Maggie had loathed her for weeks after that, telling her she'd made a mistake. But the colt had only three starts to his name, one of which was out of the money. He'd been a loose end that'd been cut. Ripley wrapped the colt's legs quickly with blue wraps. However, she'd brought him back when he'd gone up sale in Homestretch Racing's reduction sale. We'll see Brooks. This colt wants long... Maybe he'll be ready for the Belmont Stakes.
Maggie was interested in a crown alright, but it wasn't anything racing related. She wanted to be crowned for being able to put up so brilliantly with the Flash Limits x Foolish Entity filly. Para was a lioness compared to her other mounts. Fierce, tough, and willing to oppose were very good words to describe her. However, Maggie knew her type and it was a cinch to defeat your opponent if you knew them. The sturdy-looking filly looked pretty darn good all decked out in her leather equipment and wraps. She looked older than most in their group, except for Hourglass. More mature. Maggie ran a finger down the star that graced Para's blocky forehead. You're not the prettiest of the bunch, but I'd take you over Prima in a wrestle match. The filly blew out through her nostrils as if quietly agreeing.
The blonde woman lead Para out of the barn, careful to close the door. The yearlings needed their beauty rest. No one called after Para just yet. They accepted her as leader, but they didn't necessarily love her. Not like the main race horses did with Screaming Mimi. You'll get there soon enough bossy pants. One way or the other. Para lifted herself to maximum height when Van Guard stepped out of the opposing main barn entrance. He is Goliath, thought Maggie. She was upset about losing the mount, but she already had her two yearlings, Para and Alucard, to work with in Year Thirteen. She would be busy early in the season. Para nickered to Van, showing interest for the first time.
Brooks shook his head. She didn't terrorize you like she did Connor? Maggie laughed while Brooks swiftly mounted the Native Flame two year old. We girls understand one another Brooks. No terrorizing necessary. Maggie patted Para's strong shoulder and bounded into the saddle, impressed when the filly didn't move off like most young horses did.
Brooks nodded to Ripley who would walk to the track this morning. He asked Van to step into a trot and received it. The colt had a large sweeping motion to him. He felt like a man among boys. His hoof beats rang as he hit some stone and his small ears shot right up in excitement. Brooks held on when the colt suddenly decided to let out a trio of three bucks. Brooks held tight, praying that whiplash wouldn't get the best of him. Van Guard was an unbelievably strong horse. The blonde man leaned close to the short, bulky neck, keen on keeping his head.
The dark bay strutted forward down the path, nose to chest and knees lifting in a prance. As if he were out here doing more than just working out. Brooks rode along with the powerful rhythm of this colt and began to see why Maggie had been so against selling him off. He told Ripley so and the trainer was merely quiet. She knew already.
C-O-W! That's what you are Para. Now get a move on already! Maggie booted the bay yearling, but did not receive any forward progress. Para was still back at the barn, just watching Van Guard mosey on down to the track. Her heavy weight frame bid goodbye with a simple swish of her tail and her eyes said that she wasn't interested at all in doing what this human wanted. Maggie gritted her teeth, took her hand and smacked the filly's thick rump. A desolate thud sounded, a hoof cocked and they went absolutely nowhere. Cow, cow, cow. What happened to my intense filly? Para snorted as if in laughter. Maggie merely sat still, eyes filling with annoyance and desperation to get going. Ripley and Brooks would turn around any second and see that she was not with them.
A moment of silence flickered between the horse and rider. A horse snorted from inside the main barn. Para pricked her ears, twitched her whiskers and suddenly she was walking full steam ahead after Van. Maggie tossed her blonde braids back over her shoulder. Mule, she thought. Van was yards ahead of them, tough and full of himself and Maggie was on the other horse, wishing Para would merely cooperate. The blonde sighed. She would have to make the best of the situation.
Brooks and Van set hoof on the track minutes before Para even got close. The bay colt didn't even flick an ear in curiosity about his stable mate. He trotted up and down the track, strong body propelled by thick legs. His was a swift, thunderous movement. You could hear him a half-mile away with his loud hoof-beats over the dirt. He bowed his neck when he canter about, a prime candidate for dressage. Brooks could feel the power wafting away from his form. Here was a colt who knew what he was made of and could care less if anyone else focused on him. He move, left and right quite craftily on loose rein, remembering his lessons against Fiery Touch from May. Brooks nodded, pleased. He was a smart horse this one.
While Van Guard warmed up like the angel he was, Para rebelled dramatically against any such idea. She would not move, not even when Ripley was chasing after her and slapping her hind with her hand to make noise. The filly remained stubborn and relatively unimpressed. Maggie could not help but laugh at the comedy of it all. Ripley had bought this filly thinking that she was loaded with talent and yet the Flash Limit's foal would not even move! Maggie snickered as Para simply stood when Ripley rushed at her from the side. The head trainer placed both hands on the filly's shoulder and pushed sideways. Para tossed her head, dug in with her hooves and did not cow to Ripley's curse.
She terrorized my groom and now she'll terrorize me as trainer and owner of this shindig. Ripley glared at the filly's frame. She was not to be taken lightly, but this was plain ridiculous. Even Van Guard and Flashpoint, her half-brother, who were space invaders themselves knew when to move when a human rushed at you. Ripley ignored the filly and turned her attention to the sweetly moving Van Guard. He looked incredible. She had to admit he would not be up for sale no matter what he did. Her three Native Flame were enough to continue on that sold stallion's line within Witch Creek. It suited her perfectly fine keeping a horse that may not reach such high expectations in one year.
Brooks trotted Van Guard up the track toward the wire, feeling the explosiveness out within the colt. He was a gun powder keg ready to be lit. Maggie hadn't been joking when she said that she knew there was more to the colt than just steady speed. And now Brooks knew where to get the explosiveness from that Maggie had managed to get in the early season workout. That high cruising stalker speed would be plenty effective for Van Guard.
Maggie stared blankly at Van Guard. Her previous mount looked fantastic back at Witch Creek with all of muscles glistening and his interest locked into what Brooks wanted him to do. Para simply stood like the mule she was, eyeing the place up as if soaking in every detail. Maggie let the reins drop and that was when Paranormal Hunter finally moved. The bay lurched forward into a canter, not even bothering with a warm up jog. Before Maggie could bring her back down, Ripley called out not to bother. Para was finally moving and that was what counted.
She swung over the track with quite the sass. Her tail swung over her dark rump and her main fluttered back between her ears. She had an even, rolling canter, a pure rocking horse canter. Maggie did not know whether to sit or stand, but went with her usual standing posture. Para lowered her head to her shoulders and expelled the most out of her form in the canter. Maggie kept the reins up, unsure as to when the filly would take off in a bolt. The woman glanced up when Van circled dramatically to come roaring up the inside and become level with Para. Para merely cantered along, only her nostrils twitching to note of Van Guard's presence.
Brooks smirked. Finally got her moving did you? Maggie stuck her tongue out at the assistant trainer. She moved when she wanted to. Ripley and I might as well have been the wind. Brooks laughed and eyed her. She sure moves like a heavier filly than she is. Maggie shrugged. They can't all be Prima Donna. Brooks nodded. Thank the lord they aren't all Prima Donna. Maggie and the man shared a laugh as their mounts cruised into the far turn of the track.
Van Guard got the better of Para on the rail, his large form thundering to take the lead by a half-length. Maggie put Para to an early drive, asking her to keep up. Or attempted to anyway. The filly just continued along at her normal gallop pace and Van Guard drew off to a two and a half length lead. Brooks glanced under his shoulder to see Para falling behind. He couldn't do anything about it. Van Guard wasn't even moving that fast. Maybe the filly just didn't like to run. Brooks kept his hands light on Van's mouth and face forward. It was something he would have to discuss with Ripley. He hoped that Para wasn't a dud. It would be a smash to everyone's ego at Witch Creek.
Native Flame's colt marched unhurried over the track, but still maintaining quite the strong pace. He was extremely deceptive with his large stride and you almost forgot that he was a two year old, especially one that hadn't raced or worked out since May. Van moved like a train, barreling his way through the same route day after day. Steady eddy in an elephant's body. Brooks leaned closer, enjoying the lack of adrenaline. It was nice to ride a horse once in a while without fear of speed. Van was a constant entity. He seemed to not change his pace at all, but the threat of it was there.
Maggie was getting frustrated with Paranormal Hunter. She was so keen on maintaining her own pace that Van Guard was slipping away from them. He was about five lengths in front and just cruising. Para simply lumbered along after the big dark bay colt, not budging an inch from where she stood. Her gallop stride was stretching out, but she wasn't going any faster. It was as if she were simply settling in for the duration of the breeze and purposely frustrating those connected to her. How could such an intimidating filly on the ground be so... not... when running? Maggie settled down into the filly's stride, going back to appreciating the simple rocking horse movement.
Van Guard whipped into the far turn in his strong gallop, nearly choking Brooks with his helmet strap when he lurched forward. The bay colt went to swap leads a couple of times in play, but Brooks fixed the colt's stride so that he couldn't do so. A horse that switched leads in the races lost the races. Van tossed his head, coming to life. A lion hidden in the docile horse's body. Brooks shook the reins, no longer caring about Para. Van Guard needed a workout. He had a race coming up in December. Para probably wouldn't be starting until February. The big bay colt thundered over the course now, his hooves beating like drums across the track. One, two, three, four. One, two, three, four. One, two, three, four. Brooks leaned close, finally catching the hint of an adrenaline rush as the colt flew up the track, head and tail held high. The colt could move that was for sure.
Maggie knew when Van turned it on for Brooks. The bay colt went from steady to thunderous in about three seconds. Three seconds was all it took for that large horse to get his act together and move. Maggie yelled, threw the reins down at Para's neck and barely hung on when the horse lurched forward. The filly's body stretched out like Gumby, her forelegs reaching for more ground as she began to pick up speed. Seven lengths was what separated her from beating Van Guard. And soon she was cutting into it magnificently.
The filly roared off of the final turn, her legs swinging about due to the centrifugal force of the track. But once she straightened out, she came calling. Her mane and tail whipped back as she charged after her older stablemate up the homestretch of the three furlong breeze. With every stride she gained more and more speed until her pace was so brutal that Maggie had to drag her goggles down from her helmet.
Brooks heard the filly coming, glanced beneath his arm pit in shock. Her eyes were bright with excited energy as she closed in on his Van Guard. They were a length behind and closing swiftly. He turned back and put his colt into a drive, grinning when Van flew forward. But now there was hot breath on Brooks' leg. He glanced over. He'd expected the Flash Limit's filly to fall back. Maggie wasn't even looking where she was going her, her head low, just taking glances around the filly's bulging neck.
Brooks leaned close to Van, calling to him for more. He dug into the untapped energy a second too late. The pair passed over the wire together, noses so close that there was no clear victor. But Van Guard wasn't done. He pushed mightily from his hind end and spurted away from Para by three lengths, four, five. So mighty was his kick that Brooks could not get him to shut down before the first turn again. The Native Flame son charged into the turn, taking the turn three paths wide and only then was he able to be brought back to a comfortable gallop.
Paranormal Hunter galloped efficiently into the clubhouse turn, her head still low, her mouth now playing on the bit. She knew she had done her job. She'd run to Native Flame, came level to him and Maggie had stopped her quite easily after that. When Maggie had stood straight in the stirrups over the stretched out filly, Para had noted when enough was enough. She did not seem to be bothered in the least by Van Guard's explosive move. She wasn't insulted, wasn't aggravated. She'd finished with the colt fair and square. And she would have continued to run with him if Maggie hadn't pulled her up. The filly tossed her head back when Van turned back to face them. He was on the muscle now, neck bowed and eyes wide. His nostrils were flaring eagerly and he mouthed the bit, looking for more from Brooks.
He looked awfully good for a colt that hadn't worked since May. Maggie called, as she circle Para back to trot alongside Van Guard. Brooks nodded, patted the colt's neck and grinned. Yeah he has some hot blood in him. It just takes a little while to get it. But it comes in the homestretch, so I guess that is a very good sign. He can keep up with anyone with his cruising speed and just tap into another gear when he hits the homestretch. He's a good one Maggie. So how exactly did you get her moving?
Maggie looked down at Para as they neared Ripley, who was dancing from the cold. Her eyes were bright, however, and she looked more than happy with today's workout. I just dropped the reins and yelled. I forgot what a closer felt like. But once she dropped into gear and bolted, I figured it out. I just had to go along for the ride. It felt like it took her a stride or two to get going-
That's because she was stretching herself out. Ripley crowed, interrupting excitedly. I've never seen a horse drop so low to the ground when they wanted to run. It was impressive. She just snapped down and you're right Mag, it took two strides, but she knew what she was doing. And she didn't back down from his challenge. Stuck to him like Velcro.
Maggie patted the filly's dark neck. Sorry girl. I guess you're not a cow after all. More like a lion. Para snorted and tossed her head, flattening her ears at Van when he stretched his neck out to touch her. Ripley snickered, patted the filly as well, looking her over. She doesn't look like she's breathing too hard. We have to get her on a stricter gallop schedule the closer we get to January. Gotta get that extra weight off and she'll be ready to go.
Ripley turned her attention to Van Guard. Sorry for letting you go big guy. You put a good show on. She stroked the colt's face, taking in his confident, unthreatening gaze. He was a solid colt with a solid future in front of him. She patted his thick neck, running over his legs for bumps and bruises. Nothing. The colt was as sturdy as they came.
Alright, let's get them back and rubbed down. They deserve some extra treats off of that one.
Ripley was into the barn first, her swifter legs carrying her across the ground faster. She whipped open one door, fearful that a sprinting horse may be on the other end of it. Inside her groom Connor was sprawled across the floor, holding his head as he attempted to get up from an apparent attack. Ripley rushed to his aid, noting the wheelbarrow dumped in the middle of the aisle. Connor looked up, his dark eyes ablaze with annoyance and some dark humor. If you were going to set the hounds on me, couldn't you have told me the night before?
Ripley looked up to see her newest yearling standing proudly at the entrance of her stall. She did not step over the threshold, though her shavings certainly tumbled over it. Her tiny star was supported between two fiercely lit eyes and she looked furious with her ears pinned back into a flowing mane. Her body was well-rounded and she looked to be a little over-fed. She was merely a few inches smaller than Prima Donna, but her weight gave her more of an appearance of bulk.
Ripley stood up, watching the filly's ears flick in the direction of Brooks, though her left eye turned to stay on Ripley. The filly nickered curiously, but her ears remained pinned. Did she bite you Connor? Ripley asked when she caught something hanging from the corner of the Flash Limit's filly's mouth. She pulled the side of my shirt clean off. Ripley snorted and grabbed the black rope halter from the hook. Flinging the lead rope over the bay's neck, Ripley began to pull the filly together. She glanced over at the feeding bucket and noted the fact that it was completely empty, not a speck of grain remained.
Ripley patted the solid filly's neck, grinning. Good girl. I see you like the food we prepare for you. Not picky in the least. Para eyed Ripley curiously, but her frame was more relaxed and she showed no signs of attacking. What? Did you get near her feed bucket?
Connor glared at Ripley as he brushed himself off. Brooks was busy holding in the laughter while he attempted to clean up the spilled wheelbarrow. I forgot she is the touchy one. I couldn't remember if it was her or the new broodmare. Ripley laughed, shaking her head. Nope, it's this one. Strike The Win wouldn't hurt a fly. She's too ladylike. Ripley patted the coltish filly one more time as she lead her out to the cross-ties. The bay swung her head around to analyze the mess she created and if Ripley was the horsewoman that she proclaimed to be there was definitely some humor glinting in those dark eyes. Just keep her in cross-ties while you clean her stall from now on Connor. It's not worth the torn shirt. Connor stuck his tongue out at Ripley as she walked away, back toward the main barn. He glared at Para, but the filly wasn't impressed. Instead she was busy trying to get as close as possible to Supernatural's stall door. The white filly stood at the entrance, not cowed in the least by the beggar.
Brooks patted Connor's back. Maggie should be in soon to take her off your hands. Connor nodded and began to clean once again, muttering about fillies who could not keep their mouths to themselves.
Brooks walked back into the racing barn to find that Ripley had pulled Van Guard out of his stall. The dark bay colt looked absolutely the monster he was bred to be. Brooks had forgotten how spectacular this colt had been and wondered if he'd grown more so during his time away from Witch Creek. The colt eyed Brooks with a baleful gaze, not impressed in the least. He had started two times with Witch Creek when he'd been sold the first time. He'd placed third and first as a rather young two year old. Now, he was all muscle, loaded with it in fact. Though some of him was rolly-polly due to being on down time, it would come off easily in training. So when are we starting this colt again?
December Week Three. Ripley grinned, The week before Darla comes back. Brooks shook his head. Also the week of the Breeders Cup. You sure we'll have time to run them around Marsh?
I'll make time, Brooks. Just because we're at the high end, doesn't mean we forget the ones who got us there. And no worries, you'll be the one staying behind with the Breeders Cup stock at GHF. I can only take that place for so long. Brooks shot her a look, but she ignored it. Her hands were busy running down Van's thick legs, searching for any type of heat. He was built like a defensive lineman. Strong in the shoulders, in the upper legs, and heavy in the back end. She could appreciate his size, knowing that Native Flame had been just a bit taller at this age. However, for all the size, and like his sire, Van Guard had never been off in his young life. The sturdiness of this line was appreciated as well.
What do you think of him, Brooks? Brooks stepped up to the colt's blocky head and looked him over. He was a handsome son of a gun. He had a tough mind, a what-are-you-looking-at kind of personality. Brooks played with the colt's forelock. And yet... he was kind. He never put a toe out of line on the ground, could be handled in any situation. If anything, he liked to be overhandled. The horse dropped his head down level to his shoulders, taking in the pats and the strokes. The lineman had a soft side as well. I keep remembering his first workout Ripley. He looked glorious under Maggie that day. A big, powerful stride and no time clock could keep up with him. If our racing system wasn't set up like it was, I'd put him down as my favorite for the Triple Crown. But with the racing system the way it is, we probably won't even make the Kentucky Derby with any of our prospects this year. And if we do with Red Herring, we won't be able to compete in the final jewel.
Ripley nodded sadly in agreement. It was an odd predicament they were in. And she had to admit that part of it was her fault. Things had gotten tangled with the bills come may and she had to sell of Van Guard to Triple Krown once again. Maggie had loathed her for weeks after that, telling her she'd made a mistake. But the colt had only three starts to his name, one of which was out of the money. He'd been a loose end that'd been cut. Ripley wrapped the colt's legs quickly with blue wraps. However, she'd brought him back when he'd gone up sale in Homestretch Racing's reduction sale. We'll see Brooks. This colt wants long... Maybe he'll be ready for the Belmont Stakes.
Maggie was interested in a crown alright, but it wasn't anything racing related. She wanted to be crowned for being able to put up so brilliantly with the Flash Limits x Foolish Entity filly. Para was a lioness compared to her other mounts. Fierce, tough, and willing to oppose were very good words to describe her. However, Maggie knew her type and it was a cinch to defeat your opponent if you knew them. The sturdy-looking filly looked pretty darn good all decked out in her leather equipment and wraps. She looked older than most in their group, except for Hourglass. More mature. Maggie ran a finger down the star that graced Para's blocky forehead. You're not the prettiest of the bunch, but I'd take you over Prima in a wrestle match. The filly blew out through her nostrils as if quietly agreeing.
The blonde woman lead Para out of the barn, careful to close the door. The yearlings needed their beauty rest. No one called after Para just yet. They accepted her as leader, but they didn't necessarily love her. Not like the main race horses did with Screaming Mimi. You'll get there soon enough bossy pants. One way or the other. Para lifted herself to maximum height when Van Guard stepped out of the opposing main barn entrance. He is Goliath, thought Maggie. She was upset about losing the mount, but she already had her two yearlings, Para and Alucard, to work with in Year Thirteen. She would be busy early in the season. Para nickered to Van, showing interest for the first time.
Brooks shook his head. She didn't terrorize you like she did Connor? Maggie laughed while Brooks swiftly mounted the Native Flame two year old. We girls understand one another Brooks. No terrorizing necessary. Maggie patted Para's strong shoulder and bounded into the saddle, impressed when the filly didn't move off like most young horses did.
Brooks nodded to Ripley who would walk to the track this morning. He asked Van to step into a trot and received it. The colt had a large sweeping motion to him. He felt like a man among boys. His hoof beats rang as he hit some stone and his small ears shot right up in excitement. Brooks held on when the colt suddenly decided to let out a trio of three bucks. Brooks held tight, praying that whiplash wouldn't get the best of him. Van Guard was an unbelievably strong horse. The blonde man leaned close to the short, bulky neck, keen on keeping his head.
The dark bay strutted forward down the path, nose to chest and knees lifting in a prance. As if he were out here doing more than just working out. Brooks rode along with the powerful rhythm of this colt and began to see why Maggie had been so against selling him off. He told Ripley so and the trainer was merely quiet. She knew already.
C-O-W! That's what you are Para. Now get a move on already! Maggie booted the bay yearling, but did not receive any forward progress. Para was still back at the barn, just watching Van Guard mosey on down to the track. Her heavy weight frame bid goodbye with a simple swish of her tail and her eyes said that she wasn't interested at all in doing what this human wanted. Maggie gritted her teeth, took her hand and smacked the filly's thick rump. A desolate thud sounded, a hoof cocked and they went absolutely nowhere. Cow, cow, cow. What happened to my intense filly? Para snorted as if in laughter. Maggie merely sat still, eyes filling with annoyance and desperation to get going. Ripley and Brooks would turn around any second and see that she was not with them.
A moment of silence flickered between the horse and rider. A horse snorted from inside the main barn. Para pricked her ears, twitched her whiskers and suddenly she was walking full steam ahead after Van. Maggie tossed her blonde braids back over her shoulder. Mule, she thought. Van was yards ahead of them, tough and full of himself and Maggie was on the other horse, wishing Para would merely cooperate. The blonde sighed. She would have to make the best of the situation.
Brooks and Van set hoof on the track minutes before Para even got close. The bay colt didn't even flick an ear in curiosity about his stable mate. He trotted up and down the track, strong body propelled by thick legs. His was a swift, thunderous movement. You could hear him a half-mile away with his loud hoof-beats over the dirt. He bowed his neck when he canter about, a prime candidate for dressage. Brooks could feel the power wafting away from his form. Here was a colt who knew what he was made of and could care less if anyone else focused on him. He move, left and right quite craftily on loose rein, remembering his lessons against Fiery Touch from May. Brooks nodded, pleased. He was a smart horse this one.
While Van Guard warmed up like the angel he was, Para rebelled dramatically against any such idea. She would not move, not even when Ripley was chasing after her and slapping her hind with her hand to make noise. The filly remained stubborn and relatively unimpressed. Maggie could not help but laugh at the comedy of it all. Ripley had bought this filly thinking that she was loaded with talent and yet the Flash Limit's foal would not even move! Maggie snickered as Para simply stood when Ripley rushed at her from the side. The head trainer placed both hands on the filly's shoulder and pushed sideways. Para tossed her head, dug in with her hooves and did not cow to Ripley's curse.
She terrorized my groom and now she'll terrorize me as trainer and owner of this shindig. Ripley glared at the filly's frame. She was not to be taken lightly, but this was plain ridiculous. Even Van Guard and Flashpoint, her half-brother, who were space invaders themselves knew when to move when a human rushed at you. Ripley ignored the filly and turned her attention to the sweetly moving Van Guard. He looked incredible. She had to admit he would not be up for sale no matter what he did. Her three Native Flame were enough to continue on that sold stallion's line within Witch Creek. It suited her perfectly fine keeping a horse that may not reach such high expectations in one year.
Brooks trotted Van Guard up the track toward the wire, feeling the explosiveness out within the colt. He was a gun powder keg ready to be lit. Maggie hadn't been joking when she said that she knew there was more to the colt than just steady speed. And now Brooks knew where to get the explosiveness from that Maggie had managed to get in the early season workout. That high cruising stalker speed would be plenty effective for Van Guard.
Maggie stared blankly at Van Guard. Her previous mount looked fantastic back at Witch Creek with all of muscles glistening and his interest locked into what Brooks wanted him to do. Para simply stood like the mule she was, eyeing the place up as if soaking in every detail. Maggie let the reins drop and that was when Paranormal Hunter finally moved. The bay lurched forward into a canter, not even bothering with a warm up jog. Before Maggie could bring her back down, Ripley called out not to bother. Para was finally moving and that was what counted.
She swung over the track with quite the sass. Her tail swung over her dark rump and her main fluttered back between her ears. She had an even, rolling canter, a pure rocking horse canter. Maggie did not know whether to sit or stand, but went with her usual standing posture. Para lowered her head to her shoulders and expelled the most out of her form in the canter. Maggie kept the reins up, unsure as to when the filly would take off in a bolt. The woman glanced up when Van circled dramatically to come roaring up the inside and become level with Para. Para merely cantered along, only her nostrils twitching to note of Van Guard's presence.
Brooks smirked. Finally got her moving did you? Maggie stuck her tongue out at the assistant trainer. She moved when she wanted to. Ripley and I might as well have been the wind. Brooks laughed and eyed her. She sure moves like a heavier filly than she is. Maggie shrugged. They can't all be Prima Donna. Brooks nodded. Thank the lord they aren't all Prima Donna. Maggie and the man shared a laugh as their mounts cruised into the far turn of the track.
Van Guard got the better of Para on the rail, his large form thundering to take the lead by a half-length. Maggie put Para to an early drive, asking her to keep up. Or attempted to anyway. The filly just continued along at her normal gallop pace and Van Guard drew off to a two and a half length lead. Brooks glanced under his shoulder to see Para falling behind. He couldn't do anything about it. Van Guard wasn't even moving that fast. Maybe the filly just didn't like to run. Brooks kept his hands light on Van's mouth and face forward. It was something he would have to discuss with Ripley. He hoped that Para wasn't a dud. It would be a smash to everyone's ego at Witch Creek.
Native Flame's colt marched unhurried over the track, but still maintaining quite the strong pace. He was extremely deceptive with his large stride and you almost forgot that he was a two year old, especially one that hadn't raced or worked out since May. Van moved like a train, barreling his way through the same route day after day. Steady eddy in an elephant's body. Brooks leaned closer, enjoying the lack of adrenaline. It was nice to ride a horse once in a while without fear of speed. Van was a constant entity. He seemed to not change his pace at all, but the threat of it was there.
Maggie was getting frustrated with Paranormal Hunter. She was so keen on maintaining her own pace that Van Guard was slipping away from them. He was about five lengths in front and just cruising. Para simply lumbered along after the big dark bay colt, not budging an inch from where she stood. Her gallop stride was stretching out, but she wasn't going any faster. It was as if she were simply settling in for the duration of the breeze and purposely frustrating those connected to her. How could such an intimidating filly on the ground be so... not... when running? Maggie settled down into the filly's stride, going back to appreciating the simple rocking horse movement.
Van Guard whipped into the far turn in his strong gallop, nearly choking Brooks with his helmet strap when he lurched forward. The bay colt went to swap leads a couple of times in play, but Brooks fixed the colt's stride so that he couldn't do so. A horse that switched leads in the races lost the races. Van tossed his head, coming to life. A lion hidden in the docile horse's body. Brooks shook the reins, no longer caring about Para. Van Guard needed a workout. He had a race coming up in December. Para probably wouldn't be starting until February. The big bay colt thundered over the course now, his hooves beating like drums across the track. One, two, three, four. One, two, three, four. One, two, three, four. Brooks leaned close, finally catching the hint of an adrenaline rush as the colt flew up the track, head and tail held high. The colt could move that was for sure.
Maggie knew when Van turned it on for Brooks. The bay colt went from steady to thunderous in about three seconds. Three seconds was all it took for that large horse to get his act together and move. Maggie yelled, threw the reins down at Para's neck and barely hung on when the horse lurched forward. The filly's body stretched out like Gumby, her forelegs reaching for more ground as she began to pick up speed. Seven lengths was what separated her from beating Van Guard. And soon she was cutting into it magnificently.
The filly roared off of the final turn, her legs swinging about due to the centrifugal force of the track. But once she straightened out, she came calling. Her mane and tail whipped back as she charged after her older stablemate up the homestretch of the three furlong breeze. With every stride she gained more and more speed until her pace was so brutal that Maggie had to drag her goggles down from her helmet.
Brooks heard the filly coming, glanced beneath his arm pit in shock. Her eyes were bright with excited energy as she closed in on his Van Guard. They were a length behind and closing swiftly. He turned back and put his colt into a drive, grinning when Van flew forward. But now there was hot breath on Brooks' leg. He glanced over. He'd expected the Flash Limit's filly to fall back. Maggie wasn't even looking where she was going her, her head low, just taking glances around the filly's bulging neck.
Brooks leaned close to Van, calling to him for more. He dug into the untapped energy a second too late. The pair passed over the wire together, noses so close that there was no clear victor. But Van Guard wasn't done. He pushed mightily from his hind end and spurted away from Para by three lengths, four, five. So mighty was his kick that Brooks could not get him to shut down before the first turn again. The Native Flame son charged into the turn, taking the turn three paths wide and only then was he able to be brought back to a comfortable gallop.
Paranormal Hunter galloped efficiently into the clubhouse turn, her head still low, her mouth now playing on the bit. She knew she had done her job. She'd run to Native Flame, came level to him and Maggie had stopped her quite easily after that. When Maggie had stood straight in the stirrups over the stretched out filly, Para had noted when enough was enough. She did not seem to be bothered in the least by Van Guard's explosive move. She wasn't insulted, wasn't aggravated. She'd finished with the colt fair and square. And she would have continued to run with him if Maggie hadn't pulled her up. The filly tossed her head back when Van turned back to face them. He was on the muscle now, neck bowed and eyes wide. His nostrils were flaring eagerly and he mouthed the bit, looking for more from Brooks.
He looked awfully good for a colt that hadn't worked since May. Maggie called, as she circle Para back to trot alongside Van Guard. Brooks nodded, patted the colt's neck and grinned. Yeah he has some hot blood in him. It just takes a little while to get it. But it comes in the homestretch, so I guess that is a very good sign. He can keep up with anyone with his cruising speed and just tap into another gear when he hits the homestretch. He's a good one Maggie. So how exactly did you get her moving?
Maggie looked down at Para as they neared Ripley, who was dancing from the cold. Her eyes were bright, however, and she looked more than happy with today's workout. I just dropped the reins and yelled. I forgot what a closer felt like. But once she dropped into gear and bolted, I figured it out. I just had to go along for the ride. It felt like it took her a stride or two to get going-
That's because she was stretching herself out. Ripley crowed, interrupting excitedly. I've never seen a horse drop so low to the ground when they wanted to run. It was impressive. She just snapped down and you're right Mag, it took two strides, but she knew what she was doing. And she didn't back down from his challenge. Stuck to him like Velcro.
Maggie patted the filly's dark neck. Sorry girl. I guess you're not a cow after all. More like a lion. Para snorted and tossed her head, flattening her ears at Van when he stretched his neck out to touch her. Ripley snickered, patted the filly as well, looking her over. She doesn't look like she's breathing too hard. We have to get her on a stricter gallop schedule the closer we get to January. Gotta get that extra weight off and she'll be ready to go.
Ripley turned her attention to Van Guard. Sorry for letting you go big guy. You put a good show on. She stroked the colt's face, taking in his confident, unthreatening gaze. He was a solid colt with a solid future in front of him. She patted his thick neck, running over his legs for bumps and bruises. Nothing. The colt was as sturdy as they came.
Alright, let's get them back and rubbed down. They deserve some extra treats off of that one.
challenger
Originally Written on The Wire.
Ripley was particularly excited about coming to The Wire today and it was not just because she was bringing Mastermind in for his date with destiny in the Champagne Stakes. Rather it had something to do with a plain brown wrapper of a filly who had all the potential in the world. And yet this filly had just one win to her relatively obscure name. Ripley glanced in the mirror as she pulled the gates that went to the backstretch of her second favorite place to be. After Witch Creek of course. Brooks was asleep in the passenger seat, tired after galloping six horses from 3 until 7 in the morning. Her green eyes sparkled. She'd galloped Mastermind before loading the handsome colt into the trailer and was awake as she had ever been.
She usually was when she had a good feeling about her horses. The head trainer of Witch Creek pulled up to her assigned stable and began to unload the tack equipment into one of her three stalls. The horses were quiet on the trailer, peering at her through the open windows. The shedrow where her pair would be stabled was warmer than most as it was blocked on three sides from the chilly winter wind. Ripley rolled her shoulders as she dumped three bales of hay into the "office" stall, finally getting nickers from her pair of horses.
She glanced up and smiled when she saw that both Mastermind and Indian Darling were watching her with keen eyes. Mastermind would not be so much of a surprise to the regulars at The Wire, but Darla would. The filly shouldn't even be starting until Year Thirteen, but the vet had cleared her with a 110% rating of health. And here she was. Four weeks before she started here at The Wire, right before the new year.
Ripley quickly unloaded her pair of horses. Mastermind came out first, his usual sculpted self. And then Indian Darling, almost as brilliant looking as her stablemate. No one was around this particular shedrow at eight in the morning. This training barn typically was quiet at eight because all of their horses went out together. Just because Ripley trained at home didn't mean that she was ignorant to the goings on of The Wire. She filled a water bucket from a faucet for each horse, allowed time for let down and then went up to promptly wake up Brooks.
Wake up handy man! I did all the chores. Now all you have to do is sit outside Mastermind's stall while I go out and play. Brooks grumbled at Ripley, but didn't drag his feet getting out of the truck. He opened a folding chair and planted his butt in it, covering his face with a thick face mask. His bright blue eyes peered over it as Ripley lead Indian Darling out of the stall and tied her to the trailer. She sure has been benefiting from the gallops in the morning, he said. Looks like she got rid of all of the fat she built up over vacation. Her legs look clean and I would've though that she'd run a few more races over the season.
Ripley batted her eyelashes at her assistant trainer, Why Brookson Wells, was that a compliment? Brooks smirked behind his mask, but his eyes were as stony as ever. She shook her head at him and continued with her brushing and wrapping. Darla stood still through it all, though her head was constantly moving about, analyzing her new home for the next two and a half days. She remembered. Her skin twitched excitably, though she remained quiet. Her eyes brightened up with that fire that Ripley remembered. Today would be the first day she got to truly run since her last race in the Magic Millions Fillies Dirt. Ripley could not wait to see how she moved now after nearly nine months off.
The woman patted the shimmering filly, admiring her newly-developed elegance. She still possessed that wildness, but it was different now. She was kinder, more mature, more grand. And less of the plain brown wrapper. Ripley quickly placed the blankets and tack on her, admiring the fit. She had grown plenty and was now wearing Wish Upon A Star's girth. She had shot up nearly a hand and her legs and rump were pleasantly filled out. Her break had easily made her one of the more developed two year olds in Witch Creek's barn.
Ripley fixed the blinker hood on and saw the pride that fluttered into Darla's gaze. She knew she was back and she finally began to dance, tossing her head and flicking her tail over her rump. Brooks moaned, She's gonna go out there and rocket around like a champ and I'll be stuck here... Ripley snickered and laughed, looking over the dozing Mastermind. Just find a groom we know Brooks and tell him to babysit. Mastermind isn't going anywhere. I'll be trotting and galloping around for ten minutes, depending on what she does. So hurry up.
Indian Darling dragged Ripley away from the trailer and promptly planted her hooves, tilting her head expectantly. She looked cute with the black hood on, though in a more intense way that before. Ripley swung up with Brookson's boost and enjoyed the feeling of coming home. Ripley hadn't even nudged Darla two steps before Brooks had disappeared to find a groom. She patted the filly's neck as she walked away from the shedrow, a beautiful spring in her walk today.
Darla's ears flickered about with every new sound and her nostrils flared wide as she took in all of the old scents she remembered. Her muscles began to come alive beneath her shiny bay hide and she began to strut, her tail high over her rump. This had been Mastermind before Mastermind had turned into a monster. This had been Cross My Heart before Cross had even come to Witch Creek. Indian Darling had been Ripley's pride and joy. The filly had taken a while to come around mentally, but now she would be Ripley's ace in the hole come three year old season.
Today was different because people were going to notice Darla. She hadn't looked like anything spectacular early in the three year old season. Not a bronze sculpture like Mastermind, Darla had fallen quietly into the background. But now she was different. She was a standout. When visitors came around they asked about the brown filly out front with eagerness in their eyes. Even in a paddock Darla now had the presence of a champ.
She marched out onto the track right alongside where the clockers stood. And Ripley's eyes glimmered with her old trouble making ways. There were plenty of other more convenient areas to come out on to the track, but this one suited her purposes for this morning. Darla was going to make a statement today, to both the clockers and to her trainer/jockey. Ripley pretended to ignore the nudges and glances from the clockers as Darla moved into her free-floating trot. It was just as smooth as ever. Each hoof touched down distinctly beneath Indian Darling with knife-like precision and gentleness. Her black tail wafted out behind her like a flag. Ripley posted along becoming more impressed with Indian Darling's overall growth.
Horses raced about to their inside and Darla cranked her head a couple times to get a good long look, but she kept moving. She didn't shake, didn't whinny nervously, and didn't bolt. She was calm though not quite relaxed. Rather controlled and confident. The sun glinted off of her dapples as she danced her way around the loop. They in no hurry today and if people wanted to get a look at what her filly really could do, they would stick around like she expected. Indian Darling dipped her head down, touching her chin to her chest as she trotted over the dirt, tail still up and waving about.
She had a queenly attitude to her and was definitely an attention getter. Ripley remained quiet, hands light, seat light, eyes forward. She didn't want attention to be drawn to her. Darla was the star of the show. Every few strides now Indian Darling would begin to snort and toss her head. Her nostrils would flare if a horse rocketed by and Ripley could feel the tension coming into her muscles. They were entering the homestretch now after completing their mile jog around the farthest points of the track. Darla remembered that this was where she made her move. Her steps became higher and more quick.
Brooks watched from the rail hidden by his winter gear from the public. She sure looked like the show girl out there. And what he could hear, the reviews so far were raving. Brooks nodded to Ripley minutely when she passed by. Her green eyes looked right through him, understanding that he did not want to be found out. A second later Ripley stood and as smooth as you please, Darla fell into her canter. She bowed her neck like a Trojan horse, flicked her black tail around and moved right on by the clockers.
Darla was gripping the bit between her teeth, much to Ripley's dislike. They would begin to fight now and then Darla would have nothing left for the workout. She loosened her grip on the reins, stood tall and forced herself to relax. Darla was the only horse at Witch Creek that unnerved her with her running style. She was so inwardly explosive that it could get to be scary. But today she listened, her ears went to being pricked as they now cantered down the middle of the homestretch and she began to stretch out her magnificent gallop. Her larger frame covered the ground better than her smaller self had and Ripley wondered if that meant she was any faster. She was definitely more balanced.
They moved nicely into the clubhouse, her stride growing stronger and mightier as she swapped leads at the correct time. Ripley stayed in her upright position, letting Darla enjoy stretching her legs. She was a tougher filly than she had been. A nice quality filly with a strong pedigree for dirt now that Winning Touch, grade two, had put Strike the Win on the map. Darla bowed her head, asking for more rein as she looped into the homestretch. More people were gathering on the backstretch to watch the horses and plenty of them took note of the cantering filly.
Ripley let the reins go out a little bit and Darla swiftly obliged stride lengthening until she was doing a cruising gallop. Her lean figure cut the corner beautifully as she fell in line with the rest of the working or breezing horses. Her gallop was similar to her canter and trot, floating, gorgeous, elegant. She was leaner than Winning Touch and clearly not as heavy on her body which boded well for a nice career in the future. Ripley leaned closer, still relatively upright. She wanted Darla to do this gallop smoothly, to get the hang of the racing surface again. She'd preferred The Wire over Green Horse Fields track when she was running earlier in the season. It was kinder on her delicate feet.
The swept up the homestretch where she carried herself with confidence. She knew where she was. Horses were smart. They remembered places where they were happy. Ripley sat silent on the filly's shapely back as they cruised past the wire for the first time and back into the clubhouse turn. Two miles of jog work and gallop work already and Indian Darling wasn't feeling a bit of it. It made Ripley all the more happy because if she was doing this well, imagine how well Flashpoint was doing when he finished up a half-length behind her in their gallops. Excitement thrummed through Ripley's figure at the potential of her two year olds.
More rein was released to the Native Flame daughter and gratefully accepted. Darla was quieter on the bit now, understanding what Ripley was doing in today's workout. Her stride became quicker, her breathing more excited as they ran up the backstretch. Ripley leaned closer, auburn hair drifting down to mingle with the black of the fillies. Indian Darling drew comfort from the closeness, picking up speed as they made their way to the far turn. Ripley's mouth parted briefly in excitement, adrenaline pumped through her blood. Here was where they found out how much Darla was storing up in her lithe body.
With a cluck and a release of the reins, Indian Darling bolted. Her gallop stride went from tamed to barely controlled, her mane whipping back to slap Ripley in the face. Tears formed in Ripley's eyes when Darla really picked it up in the far turn. Her stride tightened up and she nearly leaped a path closer to the metal rail when changing to her left lead. This was scary speed and Ripley was left clutching the whipping mane, breath whooshing in and out of her lungs. As Darla sped through the final turn, Ripley's heart began to pound wildly. This was the filly she'd been looking for either the Triple Tiara or the Triple Crown. They'd lost time together in her two year old season, but here she was ready to challenge either Wish Upon A Star, Van Guard or Red Herring for their positions in the three year old classics.
The clockers and Brooks held their breath as Darla came off of the turn. A horse that had been just a length behind her was now seven lengths behind in the blink of an eye. She was breathtakingly alluring. Pure poetry and so dang quiet that you couldn't even tell that there was a horse on the track. There was a buzz in the air down the way when Darla straightened out and shot forward like a slingshot. Brooks glanced down at the stopwatch held in his hand. She was putting down lightning times for a filly that had just come off of the DL list.
Darla was absolutely skimming over the top of the dirt track, her legs dark blurs beneath her elegant form. Ripley leaned close, kept her hands silent and let the filly do as she wanted. To run and run very fast. Ripley's eyes squinted as Darla went from fast to extremely fast with a snap of the fingers. The bay with the wild mane and the clever looking blinkers stormed beneath the wire, legs reaching for still more. She cruised into the clubhouse turn once again, silent as a ghost with only dust to mark her presence.
The buzz grew louder when Darla cruised into her sixth furlong and seventh merely in a gallop out. Brooks was in shock, looking down at the times. :57 3/5ths for the five furlongs, 1:07 2/5th for the six furlongs and 1:24 for the seven furlongs. All under wraps. Ripley hadn't even moved. He looked up as Indian Darling cantered back down the homestretch, looking as peaceful as ever.
Ripley rubbed the filly's neck, calling her all sorts of complimentary things. This was a brilliant filly when she was on her game. And Ripley was more positive than ever that halting her two year old season had been the right thing to do. She patted Darla's neck as they slowed to a trot bringing them back around the clockers, past them and through the gap at a springy walk. The male eyes followed Darla and Ripley as she passed. Just as she had been on the track, the filly was silent. She wasn't even breathing when she headed back to the barn. Silent as a dream.
Brooks ducked around people and caught up with Ripley. Swiftly reading the times off.Fifty seven and three fifths for the five, 1:07 and two fifths for the six, 1:24 and change for the seven. I don't know about you Ripley, but this filly just about blew me out of the water. Ripley stared down at the cat-like filly. I didn't even lay my hands on her. All under wraps Brooks. How scary is that?
Brooks shrugged and stared straight ahead. Very.
Ripley was particularly excited about coming to The Wire today and it was not just because she was bringing Mastermind in for his date with destiny in the Champagne Stakes. Rather it had something to do with a plain brown wrapper of a filly who had all the potential in the world. And yet this filly had just one win to her relatively obscure name. Ripley glanced in the mirror as she pulled the gates that went to the backstretch of her second favorite place to be. After Witch Creek of course. Brooks was asleep in the passenger seat, tired after galloping six horses from 3 until 7 in the morning. Her green eyes sparkled. She'd galloped Mastermind before loading the handsome colt into the trailer and was awake as she had ever been.
She usually was when she had a good feeling about her horses. The head trainer of Witch Creek pulled up to her assigned stable and began to unload the tack equipment into one of her three stalls. The horses were quiet on the trailer, peering at her through the open windows. The shedrow where her pair would be stabled was warmer than most as it was blocked on three sides from the chilly winter wind. Ripley rolled her shoulders as she dumped three bales of hay into the "office" stall, finally getting nickers from her pair of horses.
She glanced up and smiled when she saw that both Mastermind and Indian Darling were watching her with keen eyes. Mastermind would not be so much of a surprise to the regulars at The Wire, but Darla would. The filly shouldn't even be starting until Year Thirteen, but the vet had cleared her with a 110% rating of health. And here she was. Four weeks before she started here at The Wire, right before the new year.
Ripley quickly unloaded her pair of horses. Mastermind came out first, his usual sculpted self. And then Indian Darling, almost as brilliant looking as her stablemate. No one was around this particular shedrow at eight in the morning. This training barn typically was quiet at eight because all of their horses went out together. Just because Ripley trained at home didn't mean that she was ignorant to the goings on of The Wire. She filled a water bucket from a faucet for each horse, allowed time for let down and then went up to promptly wake up Brooks.
Wake up handy man! I did all the chores. Now all you have to do is sit outside Mastermind's stall while I go out and play. Brooks grumbled at Ripley, but didn't drag his feet getting out of the truck. He opened a folding chair and planted his butt in it, covering his face with a thick face mask. His bright blue eyes peered over it as Ripley lead Indian Darling out of the stall and tied her to the trailer. She sure has been benefiting from the gallops in the morning, he said. Looks like she got rid of all of the fat she built up over vacation. Her legs look clean and I would've though that she'd run a few more races over the season.
Ripley batted her eyelashes at her assistant trainer, Why Brookson Wells, was that a compliment? Brooks smirked behind his mask, but his eyes were as stony as ever. She shook her head at him and continued with her brushing and wrapping. Darla stood still through it all, though her head was constantly moving about, analyzing her new home for the next two and a half days. She remembered. Her skin twitched excitably, though she remained quiet. Her eyes brightened up with that fire that Ripley remembered. Today would be the first day she got to truly run since her last race in the Magic Millions Fillies Dirt. Ripley could not wait to see how she moved now after nearly nine months off.
The woman patted the shimmering filly, admiring her newly-developed elegance. She still possessed that wildness, but it was different now. She was kinder, more mature, more grand. And less of the plain brown wrapper. Ripley quickly placed the blankets and tack on her, admiring the fit. She had grown plenty and was now wearing Wish Upon A Star's girth. She had shot up nearly a hand and her legs and rump were pleasantly filled out. Her break had easily made her one of the more developed two year olds in Witch Creek's barn.
Ripley fixed the blinker hood on and saw the pride that fluttered into Darla's gaze. She knew she was back and she finally began to dance, tossing her head and flicking her tail over her rump. Brooks moaned, She's gonna go out there and rocket around like a champ and I'll be stuck here... Ripley snickered and laughed, looking over the dozing Mastermind. Just find a groom we know Brooks and tell him to babysit. Mastermind isn't going anywhere. I'll be trotting and galloping around for ten minutes, depending on what she does. So hurry up.
Indian Darling dragged Ripley away from the trailer and promptly planted her hooves, tilting her head expectantly. She looked cute with the black hood on, though in a more intense way that before. Ripley swung up with Brookson's boost and enjoyed the feeling of coming home. Ripley hadn't even nudged Darla two steps before Brooks had disappeared to find a groom. She patted the filly's neck as she walked away from the shedrow, a beautiful spring in her walk today.
Darla's ears flickered about with every new sound and her nostrils flared wide as she took in all of the old scents she remembered. Her muscles began to come alive beneath her shiny bay hide and she began to strut, her tail high over her rump. This had been Mastermind before Mastermind had turned into a monster. This had been Cross My Heart before Cross had even come to Witch Creek. Indian Darling had been Ripley's pride and joy. The filly had taken a while to come around mentally, but now she would be Ripley's ace in the hole come three year old season.
Today was different because people were going to notice Darla. She hadn't looked like anything spectacular early in the three year old season. Not a bronze sculpture like Mastermind, Darla had fallen quietly into the background. But now she was different. She was a standout. When visitors came around they asked about the brown filly out front with eagerness in their eyes. Even in a paddock Darla now had the presence of a champ.
She marched out onto the track right alongside where the clockers stood. And Ripley's eyes glimmered with her old trouble making ways. There were plenty of other more convenient areas to come out on to the track, but this one suited her purposes for this morning. Darla was going to make a statement today, to both the clockers and to her trainer/jockey. Ripley pretended to ignore the nudges and glances from the clockers as Darla moved into her free-floating trot. It was just as smooth as ever. Each hoof touched down distinctly beneath Indian Darling with knife-like precision and gentleness. Her black tail wafted out behind her like a flag. Ripley posted along becoming more impressed with Indian Darling's overall growth.
Horses raced about to their inside and Darla cranked her head a couple times to get a good long look, but she kept moving. She didn't shake, didn't whinny nervously, and didn't bolt. She was calm though not quite relaxed. Rather controlled and confident. The sun glinted off of her dapples as she danced her way around the loop. They in no hurry today and if people wanted to get a look at what her filly really could do, they would stick around like she expected. Indian Darling dipped her head down, touching her chin to her chest as she trotted over the dirt, tail still up and waving about.
She had a queenly attitude to her and was definitely an attention getter. Ripley remained quiet, hands light, seat light, eyes forward. She didn't want attention to be drawn to her. Darla was the star of the show. Every few strides now Indian Darling would begin to snort and toss her head. Her nostrils would flare if a horse rocketed by and Ripley could feel the tension coming into her muscles. They were entering the homestretch now after completing their mile jog around the farthest points of the track. Darla remembered that this was where she made her move. Her steps became higher and more quick.
Brooks watched from the rail hidden by his winter gear from the public. She sure looked like the show girl out there. And what he could hear, the reviews so far were raving. Brooks nodded to Ripley minutely when she passed by. Her green eyes looked right through him, understanding that he did not want to be found out. A second later Ripley stood and as smooth as you please, Darla fell into her canter. She bowed her neck like a Trojan horse, flicked her black tail around and moved right on by the clockers.
Darla was gripping the bit between her teeth, much to Ripley's dislike. They would begin to fight now and then Darla would have nothing left for the workout. She loosened her grip on the reins, stood tall and forced herself to relax. Darla was the only horse at Witch Creek that unnerved her with her running style. She was so inwardly explosive that it could get to be scary. But today she listened, her ears went to being pricked as they now cantered down the middle of the homestretch and she began to stretch out her magnificent gallop. Her larger frame covered the ground better than her smaller self had and Ripley wondered if that meant she was any faster. She was definitely more balanced.
They moved nicely into the clubhouse, her stride growing stronger and mightier as she swapped leads at the correct time. Ripley stayed in her upright position, letting Darla enjoy stretching her legs. She was a tougher filly than she had been. A nice quality filly with a strong pedigree for dirt now that Winning Touch, grade two, had put Strike the Win on the map. Darla bowed her head, asking for more rein as she looped into the homestretch. More people were gathering on the backstretch to watch the horses and plenty of them took note of the cantering filly.
Ripley let the reins go out a little bit and Darla swiftly obliged stride lengthening until she was doing a cruising gallop. Her lean figure cut the corner beautifully as she fell in line with the rest of the working or breezing horses. Her gallop was similar to her canter and trot, floating, gorgeous, elegant. She was leaner than Winning Touch and clearly not as heavy on her body which boded well for a nice career in the future. Ripley leaned closer, still relatively upright. She wanted Darla to do this gallop smoothly, to get the hang of the racing surface again. She'd preferred The Wire over Green Horse Fields track when she was running earlier in the season. It was kinder on her delicate feet.
The swept up the homestretch where she carried herself with confidence. She knew where she was. Horses were smart. They remembered places where they were happy. Ripley sat silent on the filly's shapely back as they cruised past the wire for the first time and back into the clubhouse turn. Two miles of jog work and gallop work already and Indian Darling wasn't feeling a bit of it. It made Ripley all the more happy because if she was doing this well, imagine how well Flashpoint was doing when he finished up a half-length behind her in their gallops. Excitement thrummed through Ripley's figure at the potential of her two year olds.
More rein was released to the Native Flame daughter and gratefully accepted. Darla was quieter on the bit now, understanding what Ripley was doing in today's workout. Her stride became quicker, her breathing more excited as they ran up the backstretch. Ripley leaned closer, auburn hair drifting down to mingle with the black of the fillies. Indian Darling drew comfort from the closeness, picking up speed as they made their way to the far turn. Ripley's mouth parted briefly in excitement, adrenaline pumped through her blood. Here was where they found out how much Darla was storing up in her lithe body.
With a cluck and a release of the reins, Indian Darling bolted. Her gallop stride went from tamed to barely controlled, her mane whipping back to slap Ripley in the face. Tears formed in Ripley's eyes when Darla really picked it up in the far turn. Her stride tightened up and she nearly leaped a path closer to the metal rail when changing to her left lead. This was scary speed and Ripley was left clutching the whipping mane, breath whooshing in and out of her lungs. As Darla sped through the final turn, Ripley's heart began to pound wildly. This was the filly she'd been looking for either the Triple Tiara or the Triple Crown. They'd lost time together in her two year old season, but here she was ready to challenge either Wish Upon A Star, Van Guard or Red Herring for their positions in the three year old classics.
The clockers and Brooks held their breath as Darla came off of the turn. A horse that had been just a length behind her was now seven lengths behind in the blink of an eye. She was breathtakingly alluring. Pure poetry and so dang quiet that you couldn't even tell that there was a horse on the track. There was a buzz in the air down the way when Darla straightened out and shot forward like a slingshot. Brooks glanced down at the stopwatch held in his hand. She was putting down lightning times for a filly that had just come off of the DL list.
Darla was absolutely skimming over the top of the dirt track, her legs dark blurs beneath her elegant form. Ripley leaned close, kept her hands silent and let the filly do as she wanted. To run and run very fast. Ripley's eyes squinted as Darla went from fast to extremely fast with a snap of the fingers. The bay with the wild mane and the clever looking blinkers stormed beneath the wire, legs reaching for still more. She cruised into the clubhouse turn once again, silent as a ghost with only dust to mark her presence.
The buzz grew louder when Darla cruised into her sixth furlong and seventh merely in a gallop out. Brooks was in shock, looking down at the times. :57 3/5ths for the five furlongs, 1:07 2/5th for the six furlongs and 1:24 for the seven furlongs. All under wraps. Ripley hadn't even moved. He looked up as Indian Darling cantered back down the homestretch, looking as peaceful as ever.
Ripley rubbed the filly's neck, calling her all sorts of complimentary things. This was a brilliant filly when she was on her game. And Ripley was more positive than ever that halting her two year old season had been the right thing to do. She patted Darla's neck as they slowed to a trot bringing them back around the clockers, past them and through the gap at a springy walk. The male eyes followed Darla and Ripley as she passed. Just as she had been on the track, the filly was silent. She wasn't even breathing when she headed back to the barn. Silent as a dream.
Brooks ducked around people and caught up with Ripley. Swiftly reading the times off.Fifty seven and three fifths for the five, 1:07 and two fifths for the six, 1:24 and change for the seven. I don't know about you Ripley, but this filly just about blew me out of the water. Ripley stared down at the cat-like filly. I didn't even lay my hands on her. All under wraps Brooks. How scary is that?
Brooks shrugged and stared straight ahead. Very.