October Week Three Workouts
Prima Donna& Bella Luna& Calamity Queen.
Mourning Passion& Ashes To Ashes& Red Herring.
Supernatural& Hokum& Midnight Thriller.
Cross My Heart & Paranormal Hunter.
Mourning Passion& Ashes To Ashes& Red Herring.
Supernatural& Hokum& Midnight Thriller.
Cross My Heart & Paranormal Hunter.
trouble in paradise
Reese and Justin watched as Maggiletti Reynolds came down the path toward the turf track. Reese let out a low wolf whistle, I've got to admit Star Thoroughbreds did a fabulous job with that filly. Those muscles are absolutely fantastic. Justin nodded in absolute agreement. It's the Touch Up in her. But, yeah, she is extraordinary looking. The humans were not the only ones taking note of the newcomer, the former Battle Brook prospect by the name of Calamity Queen.
Bella Luna's ears were locked on the stout, dark bay daughter of Royal Assault. Her eyes glinted with a look that said she was not at all pleased to have a new competitor in the roster. Especially one that she had faced a number of times. The gray daughter had not budged an inch since catching sight of Queenie. Reese simply sat astride the statuesque mare, well aware that any movement would only increase the tension. Justin was not having as much ease with handling his mount. Prima Donna, the princess of the two year olds and Calamity Queen's half-sister, danced with the fury of a fairly who had been wronged. Her eyes glinted with loathing and temper, her body tense as a big cat about to pounce. Justin continually forced the dominant filly into a circle, trying to draw her attention away from the older sister. It was no good. Prima's savage ears were locked on Calamity Queen and her temper was about fit to blow.
Maggie could have sworn Calamity Queen was excited about receiving the aggressive responses. The dark bay filly glared imperiously down at the other two fillies, a queen amid peasants. Maggie could feel the arrogance and domineering attitude wafting off of the the Cotillion winner. It was clearly evident that Calamity Queen was the ambassador of "misery loves company." Maggie patted the mare's strong, tense neck, appreciating her lines as she strode to meet Bella Luna and Prima Donna. Where Prima was leggy and lean thanks to her sire, Calamity Queen was stout, sturdy and burly. She was a lighter version of Witch Creek's own The Devil's Touch. From watching her races, Maggie knew the filly was quick, but she lacked focus. A brilliantly white set of blinkers was not wrapped around Queen's upper features. The filly seemed even prouder to be wearing them.
Maggie was never more proud than now to be aboard Calamity Queen. At one this filly had been her future mount. Ripley had left and so had Maggie because of Ripley leaving. Queenie had been sold off with the rest of the Witch Creek stock. Things were coming full circle and Maggie would finally be able to see what she would have had if Ripley had never left in the first place. Maggie nodded to the gang of horses and riders, blue eyes bright with excitement. Ready?
Prima's never been more ready to kick ass in her life. Justin teased, whipping his live two year old around with just a light touch. Her savage head remained cocked to keep Calamity Queen in sight at all time. Bella Luna tossed her head, eyes glowing with a light that Reese had never seen before in the Sea Struck filly: Hatred. Reese shook the reins, forcing Bella to transfer her attentions elsewhere. This was Bella's key workout for the Merry Bay King Stakes. Calamity Queen was going to provide a much needed competitor. Prima's spirit would only fuel the older gals even more.
The fillies broke into long striding gallops. Prima on the left, Bella in the center and Calamity Queen to the far right. Prima was intent on the dark bay filly, but her position made it hard for her to fulfill her wish to savage. Bella Luna, with one toss of her head, dismissed the sturdy dark horse and settled into a ground-eating gallop. Reese patted the filly's neck. Bella Luna was even minded and for the moment Reese could not be happier.
Calamity Queen was a powerhouse on hooves. She thundered along with great strides and a forward motion. Maggie had to admit that there was really none of Royal Assault in this particular horse besides her color. All of it was Touch Up. The stallion had passed on his mighty strength and sure had Maggie impressed with the results. She leaned close to the filly has she charged up the hills in her first workout since her arrival. Her hindquarters pushed heartily with every stride, her nostrils flared with the rush of energy and adrenaline. Calamity Queen sure was enjoying her new surroundings.
Prima and Bella allowed Calamity Queen to claim the lead. The front running filly had won her Tiara race on the lead and neither of the two were die-hard need the lead types. Prima moved with the lean rush of a big cat, staking a claim for second. Bella Luna was more than content to settle a half-length behind the younger gal. The gray was made for long distances where the other two had distance limitations. She could run all day and still have energy for the next.
Justin prided himself in Prima Donna's conditioning. That she now could run with the Turf Triple Crown winner and the Cotillion winner was a testament to Ripley's training and his riding. The young filly was full of energy and the picture of savage grace. Her gaze was bright with fury and the competitive flames that fueled her. Where Queen seemed more like Touch Up, Prima was definitely Royal Assault. The lithe bay filly fired along with rapid strides, ears pricked and eager to do some damage. She was not intimidated by her older counterparts. They only fanned her flames higher.
Queenie guided the trio up the final hillside, legs sweeping in powerful strokes. Maggie perched at her broad withers, blue eyes glinting from all of the power. Calamity Queen was a tough filly with an engine waiting to be put to the test. Maggie rubbed her hands together mentally in her head. Game on, boys and girls!
Justin and Reese did not have to keep a close eye on Maggie to see the tense excitement that tightened her shoulders. Maggie was sitting on a bomb waiting to go off. The other two knew it. Justin moved Prima up a little, checking her as they danced down the hillside. The filly's eyes were rimmed with red excitement. She wanted to go. Her mouth played hungrily with the bit, her body flexed eagerly. Justin crooned to her, asked her to wait until he told her. His dark eyes were locked on Maggiletti Reynolds and her cannon mount.
Maggie did not have to think twice. The moment Calamity Queen hit the flat, Maggie pushed her body forward and sent the thick filly flying across the browning grass. Her hoofbeats sounded like wild drums as she surged toward the unknown. She was a courageous horse. Maggie leaned close to the whipping mane, did not glance back. Prima would come flying in a matter of seconds, but it was Bella Luna that Queenie needed to be prepared for. That filly was as push-button as a remote control.
Prima Donna soared over the grass, eyes wide with absolute excitement. She cut down the length and a half separating herself and her half-sister. Her ears were pinned flat against her neck, a look of fury and determination lighting up her features. Justin keep his hands quiet, holding the reins as taunt as possible. Prima Donna would face a giant field next time out in the Golden Slipper Stakes. She could run with these two, but they would not break her heart on him. Justin had other plans for this cat-like filly. She did not like to be held, but Justin had proven to not let her down before. She sighed and settled in at Queenie's throatlatch. The burly older sister did nothing to acknowledge Prima Donna's presence quite yet.
Bella Luna bided her time in third. Her ears were up, her muscles coiling, preparing to unleash that solid closing stretch punch. Reese practically stood in the stirrups as the sisters went at it down the length of the stretch. Her gaze was bright and positive. She was so happy to have another horse to pit Bella Luna up against. Two because this was Prima's first time training with Bella Luna as well. Reese, moved her fingers, nodded when Bella Luna bolted up to the next gear and now paced a length behind the dueling bays.
Maggie and Justin peaked under their arms at the same time upon hearing the roar of hooves behind them. Reese was flexing her muscles. Justin grinned. Maggie cackled. Reese rolled her eyes at them, but did nothing more. Any movement would send Bella Luna flying like a comet. Maggie turned back, refocused, noted that they had a furlong left. Alright Queenie. Show me what kind of horse I have in the final furlong. She nudged the filly with her boots, shook the reins and hung on for her life as Calamity Queen jetted forward. Justin sent Prima after the three year old, feeling her jubilation. It was just what the Gorgeous George Filly had wanted.
The duo surged through the furlong, black legs reaching for the wire, heads poked out as far as equinely possible. The riders remained quiet. It was just a workout. Power and strength was needed here. Desperation and determination could wait for the big dances. Calamity Queen maintained her neck advantage, ears pinned. Now she was taking the two year old seriously. Now she understood that Prima was just as volatile an enemy as the gray filly that danced behind them.
Reese noted the final hundred yard marker, guided Bella Luna to the right of Calamity Queen. In a mutual agreement with Reese, Bella Luna put on the after-burners and charged over the grass, instinctively lengthening her stride. The gray filly flew up alongside Calamity Queen, quickly outpacing both of her partners. The dappled gray's eyes flashed with excitement and triumph. She had them well measured. Reese could feel the confidence that lashed through Bella like a whip. This was a filly at the top of her game.
Calamity Queen and Prima Donna roared forward in tandem. They would not go down without a fight. It was then that Maggiletti knew that Royal Assault had passed something down to both Queenie and Prima: Her courage and will in the face of battle. The bays surged head and head, united in an effort to take down the one filly who they could not beat. Their combined strength was impressive, but still the most ground they could make up a half-length.
The trio shot beneath the wire, gradually pulling up as they galloped up the hillside. Bella Luna tossed her head, flicking the other two off like bugs. Calamity Queen and Prima Donna shot fierce looks at the gray filly as she cantered by. A fire had been lit inside the Royal Assault fillies. It was set to rage in their next races out.
Bella Luna's ears were locked on the stout, dark bay daughter of Royal Assault. Her eyes glinted with a look that said she was not at all pleased to have a new competitor in the roster. Especially one that she had faced a number of times. The gray daughter had not budged an inch since catching sight of Queenie. Reese simply sat astride the statuesque mare, well aware that any movement would only increase the tension. Justin was not having as much ease with handling his mount. Prima Donna, the princess of the two year olds and Calamity Queen's half-sister, danced with the fury of a fairly who had been wronged. Her eyes glinted with loathing and temper, her body tense as a big cat about to pounce. Justin continually forced the dominant filly into a circle, trying to draw her attention away from the older sister. It was no good. Prima's savage ears were locked on Calamity Queen and her temper was about fit to blow.
Maggie could have sworn Calamity Queen was excited about receiving the aggressive responses. The dark bay filly glared imperiously down at the other two fillies, a queen amid peasants. Maggie could feel the arrogance and domineering attitude wafting off of the the Cotillion winner. It was clearly evident that Calamity Queen was the ambassador of "misery loves company." Maggie patted the mare's strong, tense neck, appreciating her lines as she strode to meet Bella Luna and Prima Donna. Where Prima was leggy and lean thanks to her sire, Calamity Queen was stout, sturdy and burly. She was a lighter version of Witch Creek's own The Devil's Touch. From watching her races, Maggie knew the filly was quick, but she lacked focus. A brilliantly white set of blinkers was not wrapped around Queen's upper features. The filly seemed even prouder to be wearing them.
Maggie was never more proud than now to be aboard Calamity Queen. At one this filly had been her future mount. Ripley had left and so had Maggie because of Ripley leaving. Queenie had been sold off with the rest of the Witch Creek stock. Things were coming full circle and Maggie would finally be able to see what she would have had if Ripley had never left in the first place. Maggie nodded to the gang of horses and riders, blue eyes bright with excitement. Ready?
Prima's never been more ready to kick ass in her life. Justin teased, whipping his live two year old around with just a light touch. Her savage head remained cocked to keep Calamity Queen in sight at all time. Bella Luna tossed her head, eyes glowing with a light that Reese had never seen before in the Sea Struck filly: Hatred. Reese shook the reins, forcing Bella to transfer her attentions elsewhere. This was Bella's key workout for the Merry Bay King Stakes. Calamity Queen was going to provide a much needed competitor. Prima's spirit would only fuel the older gals even more.
The fillies broke into long striding gallops. Prima on the left, Bella in the center and Calamity Queen to the far right. Prima was intent on the dark bay filly, but her position made it hard for her to fulfill her wish to savage. Bella Luna, with one toss of her head, dismissed the sturdy dark horse and settled into a ground-eating gallop. Reese patted the filly's neck. Bella Luna was even minded and for the moment Reese could not be happier.
Calamity Queen was a powerhouse on hooves. She thundered along with great strides and a forward motion. Maggie had to admit that there was really none of Royal Assault in this particular horse besides her color. All of it was Touch Up. The stallion had passed on his mighty strength and sure had Maggie impressed with the results. She leaned close to the filly has she charged up the hills in her first workout since her arrival. Her hindquarters pushed heartily with every stride, her nostrils flared with the rush of energy and adrenaline. Calamity Queen sure was enjoying her new surroundings.
Prima and Bella allowed Calamity Queen to claim the lead. The front running filly had won her Tiara race on the lead and neither of the two were die-hard need the lead types. Prima moved with the lean rush of a big cat, staking a claim for second. Bella Luna was more than content to settle a half-length behind the younger gal. The gray was made for long distances where the other two had distance limitations. She could run all day and still have energy for the next.
Justin prided himself in Prima Donna's conditioning. That she now could run with the Turf Triple Crown winner and the Cotillion winner was a testament to Ripley's training and his riding. The young filly was full of energy and the picture of savage grace. Her gaze was bright with fury and the competitive flames that fueled her. Where Queen seemed more like Touch Up, Prima was definitely Royal Assault. The lithe bay filly fired along with rapid strides, ears pricked and eager to do some damage. She was not intimidated by her older counterparts. They only fanned her flames higher.
Queenie guided the trio up the final hillside, legs sweeping in powerful strokes. Maggie perched at her broad withers, blue eyes glinting from all of the power. Calamity Queen was a tough filly with an engine waiting to be put to the test. Maggie rubbed her hands together mentally in her head. Game on, boys and girls!
Justin and Reese did not have to keep a close eye on Maggie to see the tense excitement that tightened her shoulders. Maggie was sitting on a bomb waiting to go off. The other two knew it. Justin moved Prima up a little, checking her as they danced down the hillside. The filly's eyes were rimmed with red excitement. She wanted to go. Her mouth played hungrily with the bit, her body flexed eagerly. Justin crooned to her, asked her to wait until he told her. His dark eyes were locked on Maggiletti Reynolds and her cannon mount.
Maggie did not have to think twice. The moment Calamity Queen hit the flat, Maggie pushed her body forward and sent the thick filly flying across the browning grass. Her hoofbeats sounded like wild drums as she surged toward the unknown. She was a courageous horse. Maggie leaned close to the whipping mane, did not glance back. Prima would come flying in a matter of seconds, but it was Bella Luna that Queenie needed to be prepared for. That filly was as push-button as a remote control.
Prima Donna soared over the grass, eyes wide with absolute excitement. She cut down the length and a half separating herself and her half-sister. Her ears were pinned flat against her neck, a look of fury and determination lighting up her features. Justin keep his hands quiet, holding the reins as taunt as possible. Prima Donna would face a giant field next time out in the Golden Slipper Stakes. She could run with these two, but they would not break her heart on him. Justin had other plans for this cat-like filly. She did not like to be held, but Justin had proven to not let her down before. She sighed and settled in at Queenie's throatlatch. The burly older sister did nothing to acknowledge Prima Donna's presence quite yet.
Bella Luna bided her time in third. Her ears were up, her muscles coiling, preparing to unleash that solid closing stretch punch. Reese practically stood in the stirrups as the sisters went at it down the length of the stretch. Her gaze was bright and positive. She was so happy to have another horse to pit Bella Luna up against. Two because this was Prima's first time training with Bella Luna as well. Reese, moved her fingers, nodded when Bella Luna bolted up to the next gear and now paced a length behind the dueling bays.
Maggie and Justin peaked under their arms at the same time upon hearing the roar of hooves behind them. Reese was flexing her muscles. Justin grinned. Maggie cackled. Reese rolled her eyes at them, but did nothing more. Any movement would send Bella Luna flying like a comet. Maggie turned back, refocused, noted that they had a furlong left. Alright Queenie. Show me what kind of horse I have in the final furlong. She nudged the filly with her boots, shook the reins and hung on for her life as Calamity Queen jetted forward. Justin sent Prima after the three year old, feeling her jubilation. It was just what the Gorgeous George Filly had wanted.
The duo surged through the furlong, black legs reaching for the wire, heads poked out as far as equinely possible. The riders remained quiet. It was just a workout. Power and strength was needed here. Desperation and determination could wait for the big dances. Calamity Queen maintained her neck advantage, ears pinned. Now she was taking the two year old seriously. Now she understood that Prima was just as volatile an enemy as the gray filly that danced behind them.
Reese noted the final hundred yard marker, guided Bella Luna to the right of Calamity Queen. In a mutual agreement with Reese, Bella Luna put on the after-burners and charged over the grass, instinctively lengthening her stride. The gray filly flew up alongside Calamity Queen, quickly outpacing both of her partners. The dappled gray's eyes flashed with excitement and triumph. She had them well measured. Reese could feel the confidence that lashed through Bella like a whip. This was a filly at the top of her game.
Calamity Queen and Prima Donna roared forward in tandem. They would not go down without a fight. It was then that Maggiletti knew that Royal Assault had passed something down to both Queenie and Prima: Her courage and will in the face of battle. The bays surged head and head, united in an effort to take down the one filly who they could not beat. Their combined strength was impressive, but still the most ground they could make up a half-length.
The trio shot beneath the wire, gradually pulling up as they galloped up the hillside. Bella Luna tossed her head, flicking the other two off like bugs. Calamity Queen and Prima Donna shot fierce looks at the gray filly as she cantered by. A fire had been lit inside the Royal Assault fillies. It was set to rage in their next races out.
muscle power
Ripley wandered along the edge of the track, hands clasped behind her back in full-ponder mode. The end of the season was coming rapidly and it was the time to start introducing two year olds to the other older horses. Prima Donna had been a successful case, but Ripley wondered if most would follow the suit of that particularly advanced two year old. She rubbed her forehead, trying to banish away the headache. Flashpoint was not quite there it seemed, but the other dirt colt was. She was positive. So was Reese. She would find out for sure in a matter of minutes.
You shouldn't have put those kind of thoughts into her head, Brooks. Reese chided. Her skin prickled with annoyance. She was in a position in which she had never been before: Defending Ripley Marsh. Her near-black eyes sparked with anger and the colt beneath her pawed the earth as he felt it. Reese forced herself to release the huff of breath, stroked Mourning Passion's jet black neck. The colt tossed his head, not particularly convinced that she was over her fury. Reese's eyes bore into Brookson Wells who sat aboard the muscular image that was Red Herring.
Lane Thompson hung a couple of yards back aboard the blood bay stallion who was preoccupied with the activities on the grounds. She did not want to get involved with the tension that seemed so rampant at Witch Creek these days. Her uncle had warned her to hide at all costs. And so she had. At the racetrack or in the barn. Anywhere but in the apartment she shared with Maggiletti Reynolds, best friend of Ripley Marsh. Ashes blew through his nose, flicking his tail over his rump as he strode proudly down the path. This would be her first official workout aboard the handsome horse. She'd requested so. Brooks had relented due to the fact that Ripley had scheduled Red in the same workout as Ashes. Red was infinitely more difficult than Ashes to Ashes.
Brooks shrugged his shoulders against the laser heat shooting out of Reese's eyes. I just didn't agree with starting the two year olds up against the older set so early. Particularly the one you're riding. Reese glared furiously. I'm the one who told Ripley Mourn was ready for the bigger horses. I've been on him for nearly half a season. You seem to forget that he has been at Witch Creek training and galloping with the older horses for half a year now. Just because he doesn't have race experience doesn't mean anything. Lay off of her Brooks. She's doing the best she can considering her assistant trainer is in absolute MUTINY!
Lane and Brooks gawked as Reese sent Mourning Passion cantering the rest of the way down the path. Her fury had caused the air to vibrate around them. Red Herring reared on his legs, punching at the empty air with his thick forelegs. Brooks leaned down, forced the excitable colt back to earth. Red shook his head furiously, mouth agape as he fought control. The fiery chestnut was often full of himself these days. He was just ready to roll. Frankly, Brooks didn't blame him. The colt had missed racing while he'd been off with a virus.
Red and Ashes trotted quickly onto the track, both of them with ears pricked and nostrils flared. Mourn was settled down now, trotting up and down the rail where Ripley was pacing. The woman looked up when the three shadows towered over her. She stuffed her hands in her warm pockets, braced against the October chill. Mile and a quarter gallop. Two furlong blitz please. Her voice was as cold as the wind. Lane and Reese both sent furious glares at Brooks who shrugged again. Ripley turned on her heel, dashed up the stairs to her watch box.
Brooks had had enough of women. He sent Red Herring surging out into a gallop before Lane could pipe up and defend Ripley as well. The blaze marked colt charged over the dirt course, head and knees high with enthusiasm. He neighed belligerently, daring the other two to come after him. Brooks patted the chestnut's neck, pleased with his fighting spirit. The Climax Cup loss had not affected him too badly it seemed. He leaned close to Red Herring as he thrummed around the turn. His muscular body was loaded with power and energy just waiting to be exploited.
Lane was thoroughly impressed by what Ashes to Ashes had to offer. The blood bay stallion was awfully impressive in his movement. He truly just felt like he was loping along, but in a matter of seconds he had caught up to Red Herring. He galloped with his neck bowed and tail lifted, an image of confidence. Lane simply sat astride the horse, reins slack as he rated off of Red into the backstretch. The stallion was a strong horse and he knew how to handle himself. Lane patted his neck with a gentle hand, probably so gentle that he hadn't felt it at all. Good man, Ashes.
Mourning Passion was not one to sit in behind horses and stalk. Reese knew that if there was any other horse that possessed Red Herring's irritating running style, it was Mourn. The lean coal black colt tossed his head in irritation when he came up behind the solid wall. He grabbed the bit anxiously, tossing his head and fighting with as much energy he could muster. Reese let out a huff of breath when the colt began to skip every other step. Now was not a good time to let Brooks see her "matured" colt. Reese saw a blip of light between Red Herring and the rail, immediately guided Mourning Passion down to it. The colt snorted in surprise, tried to dash for it, but found Reese's hand holding his mouth. He shuddered, lifted his defiant gaze, but seemed to settle somewhat in the inside position. As long as there was glimpse of hope the horse was happy.
Red and Ashes bounded together on the lead. Ashes had his nose in front, keen on keeping it there, but in no rush to stake a testy claim. Red kept pace, large muscles reaching and contracting with every great stride. Brooks was confident aboard the red horse. The loss in the Climax Cup had been puzzling, but when the colt had been itching to work two days after, Brooks had had to give in. He had moved on and so to had his colt. Red would be looking for vengeance in the Bank On Silver Memorial Stakes. His eyes glinted with trouble and on the turn he made an early bid for the lead. Ashes pinned his ears, grunting and moved with the chestnut colt. Lane grimaced as the reins whipped through her hands, but let the stallion go on. Ashes did his best running on a free rein.
Mourn did not bide his time quietly. The colt had been switching from lane to lane, begging Reese to let him roll up alongside his older counterparts. No dice apparently. Mourn simply danced back and forth, tracking Ashes to Ashes because the oldest horse had the quickest stride at the moment. Reese knew it was killing her colt to sit, but the turn was coming up and he would thank her later. Reese tucked Mourn back on the rail, following Red's bold move and taking the narrowest path. Mourn stretched his long, lean from out, delicate nose pushing against the bridle. Hang on buddy.
Red Herring and Ashes to Ashes whipped into the lane, manes and tails flying. Lane was supremely happy with how Ashes was moving. He was a powerful animal this one. He galloped through the wire well in-hand and in control. Lane lowered herself. The mile and a quarter would be up upon straightening into the backstretch. It was almost time for the two furlong blitz.
Brooks niggled the reins, taking Red in hand briefly on the turn. The colt was large and could not handle the turns as well as a smaller horse. Ashes to Ashes grunted when Red pushed into him, carrying him out into the three path. Lane sat silently in the racing saddle. She niggled the reins and Ashes rebounded to take the lead back. His momentum had not quite gotten stopped. She glanced over to the inside when she heard a flurry of hoofbeats. Her playful eyes widened and darkened when she caught sight of the raven-black shape tearing it up on the rail.
Reese cackled maniacally as Mourning Passion shot up the rail in an opening she'd known would come. He was lighter on his feet, smaller in size, and slimmer in width. He handled the turn like a pro-boxer, agile on his toes. The Tempered Passion colt rocketed into the straightaway, three-quarters of a length in front. Reese shook the reins at him, determined to keep him going. If Red and Ashes caught him now, Mourn would probably be cooked from his earlier fight. Confidence could do wonders for a horse's mentality.
Brooks shook his head in disgust with himself and admiration for Reese. The hole had been about a half a horse width last time he had checked. Perhaps it had grown when Red fanned out, but even still it was a small horse for any horse to go through, let alone an inexperienced one. Red had had enough of games now, dismissing Ashes when Mourn rolled to a length and a half lead, the chestnut horse roared down the course, body uncoiling like a snake. Lane sent Ashes to Ashes flying after Mourning Passion and now Red Herring. The horses would not find Ashes at a disadvantage any longer.
Mourn still had his lead by three-quarters of a length half-way through the stretch. Brooks and Lane had expected to find an empty horse. Frankly, so had Reese. But her lean colt kept digging in, fighting like a champ with the desire not to lose. Reese did not move on him and was impressed with how much effort he was putting in. His ears were pinned to his neck and remained that way when Red's white face came to his throatlatch. Ashes to Ashes bore down on both of them, ears flicking over his head. Reese saw Brooks glance over at the blood bay, shaking his head. She knew he cursed.
Lane did no such thing. She flicked her fingers and grinned widely when the blood bay stallion moved to the lead with a rush of energy. He bounded a half-length in front. Mourn and Red cruised through the wire, neither getting the advantage over the other. Red galloped out beyond both Ashes and Mourn, seemingly unpleased. Brooks patted the colt's neck. You'll get 'em next time. And all the rest as well.
Reese brought Mourn to a trot, loving how spunky the colt was acting. He threw a buck, full of himself despite what should have been a taxing effort. He was a good horse. He only had three starts under his belt. It was only a matter of time before he started showing his talent out on the track.
You shouldn't have put those kind of thoughts into her head, Brooks. Reese chided. Her skin prickled with annoyance. She was in a position in which she had never been before: Defending Ripley Marsh. Her near-black eyes sparked with anger and the colt beneath her pawed the earth as he felt it. Reese forced herself to release the huff of breath, stroked Mourning Passion's jet black neck. The colt tossed his head, not particularly convinced that she was over her fury. Reese's eyes bore into Brookson Wells who sat aboard the muscular image that was Red Herring.
Lane Thompson hung a couple of yards back aboard the blood bay stallion who was preoccupied with the activities on the grounds. She did not want to get involved with the tension that seemed so rampant at Witch Creek these days. Her uncle had warned her to hide at all costs. And so she had. At the racetrack or in the barn. Anywhere but in the apartment she shared with Maggiletti Reynolds, best friend of Ripley Marsh. Ashes blew through his nose, flicking his tail over his rump as he strode proudly down the path. This would be her first official workout aboard the handsome horse. She'd requested so. Brooks had relented due to the fact that Ripley had scheduled Red in the same workout as Ashes. Red was infinitely more difficult than Ashes to Ashes.
Brooks shrugged his shoulders against the laser heat shooting out of Reese's eyes. I just didn't agree with starting the two year olds up against the older set so early. Particularly the one you're riding. Reese glared furiously. I'm the one who told Ripley Mourn was ready for the bigger horses. I've been on him for nearly half a season. You seem to forget that he has been at Witch Creek training and galloping with the older horses for half a year now. Just because he doesn't have race experience doesn't mean anything. Lay off of her Brooks. She's doing the best she can considering her assistant trainer is in absolute MUTINY!
Lane and Brooks gawked as Reese sent Mourning Passion cantering the rest of the way down the path. Her fury had caused the air to vibrate around them. Red Herring reared on his legs, punching at the empty air with his thick forelegs. Brooks leaned down, forced the excitable colt back to earth. Red shook his head furiously, mouth agape as he fought control. The fiery chestnut was often full of himself these days. He was just ready to roll. Frankly, Brooks didn't blame him. The colt had missed racing while he'd been off with a virus.
Red and Ashes trotted quickly onto the track, both of them with ears pricked and nostrils flared. Mourn was settled down now, trotting up and down the rail where Ripley was pacing. The woman looked up when the three shadows towered over her. She stuffed her hands in her warm pockets, braced against the October chill. Mile and a quarter gallop. Two furlong blitz please. Her voice was as cold as the wind. Lane and Reese both sent furious glares at Brooks who shrugged again. Ripley turned on her heel, dashed up the stairs to her watch box.
Brooks had had enough of women. He sent Red Herring surging out into a gallop before Lane could pipe up and defend Ripley as well. The blaze marked colt charged over the dirt course, head and knees high with enthusiasm. He neighed belligerently, daring the other two to come after him. Brooks patted the chestnut's neck, pleased with his fighting spirit. The Climax Cup loss had not affected him too badly it seemed. He leaned close to Red Herring as he thrummed around the turn. His muscular body was loaded with power and energy just waiting to be exploited.
Lane was thoroughly impressed by what Ashes to Ashes had to offer. The blood bay stallion was awfully impressive in his movement. He truly just felt like he was loping along, but in a matter of seconds he had caught up to Red Herring. He galloped with his neck bowed and tail lifted, an image of confidence. Lane simply sat astride the horse, reins slack as he rated off of Red into the backstretch. The stallion was a strong horse and he knew how to handle himself. Lane patted his neck with a gentle hand, probably so gentle that he hadn't felt it at all. Good man, Ashes.
Mourning Passion was not one to sit in behind horses and stalk. Reese knew that if there was any other horse that possessed Red Herring's irritating running style, it was Mourn. The lean coal black colt tossed his head in irritation when he came up behind the solid wall. He grabbed the bit anxiously, tossing his head and fighting with as much energy he could muster. Reese let out a huff of breath when the colt began to skip every other step. Now was not a good time to let Brooks see her "matured" colt. Reese saw a blip of light between Red Herring and the rail, immediately guided Mourning Passion down to it. The colt snorted in surprise, tried to dash for it, but found Reese's hand holding his mouth. He shuddered, lifted his defiant gaze, but seemed to settle somewhat in the inside position. As long as there was glimpse of hope the horse was happy.
Red and Ashes bounded together on the lead. Ashes had his nose in front, keen on keeping it there, but in no rush to stake a testy claim. Red kept pace, large muscles reaching and contracting with every great stride. Brooks was confident aboard the red horse. The loss in the Climax Cup had been puzzling, but when the colt had been itching to work two days after, Brooks had had to give in. He had moved on and so to had his colt. Red would be looking for vengeance in the Bank On Silver Memorial Stakes. His eyes glinted with trouble and on the turn he made an early bid for the lead. Ashes pinned his ears, grunting and moved with the chestnut colt. Lane grimaced as the reins whipped through her hands, but let the stallion go on. Ashes did his best running on a free rein.
Mourn did not bide his time quietly. The colt had been switching from lane to lane, begging Reese to let him roll up alongside his older counterparts. No dice apparently. Mourn simply danced back and forth, tracking Ashes to Ashes because the oldest horse had the quickest stride at the moment. Reese knew it was killing her colt to sit, but the turn was coming up and he would thank her later. Reese tucked Mourn back on the rail, following Red's bold move and taking the narrowest path. Mourn stretched his long, lean from out, delicate nose pushing against the bridle. Hang on buddy.
Red Herring and Ashes to Ashes whipped into the lane, manes and tails flying. Lane was supremely happy with how Ashes was moving. He was a powerful animal this one. He galloped through the wire well in-hand and in control. Lane lowered herself. The mile and a quarter would be up upon straightening into the backstretch. It was almost time for the two furlong blitz.
Brooks niggled the reins, taking Red in hand briefly on the turn. The colt was large and could not handle the turns as well as a smaller horse. Ashes to Ashes grunted when Red pushed into him, carrying him out into the three path. Lane sat silently in the racing saddle. She niggled the reins and Ashes rebounded to take the lead back. His momentum had not quite gotten stopped. She glanced over to the inside when she heard a flurry of hoofbeats. Her playful eyes widened and darkened when she caught sight of the raven-black shape tearing it up on the rail.
Reese cackled maniacally as Mourning Passion shot up the rail in an opening she'd known would come. He was lighter on his feet, smaller in size, and slimmer in width. He handled the turn like a pro-boxer, agile on his toes. The Tempered Passion colt rocketed into the straightaway, three-quarters of a length in front. Reese shook the reins at him, determined to keep him going. If Red and Ashes caught him now, Mourn would probably be cooked from his earlier fight. Confidence could do wonders for a horse's mentality.
Brooks shook his head in disgust with himself and admiration for Reese. The hole had been about a half a horse width last time he had checked. Perhaps it had grown when Red fanned out, but even still it was a small horse for any horse to go through, let alone an inexperienced one. Red had had enough of games now, dismissing Ashes when Mourn rolled to a length and a half lead, the chestnut horse roared down the course, body uncoiling like a snake. Lane sent Ashes to Ashes flying after Mourning Passion and now Red Herring. The horses would not find Ashes at a disadvantage any longer.
Mourn still had his lead by three-quarters of a length half-way through the stretch. Brooks and Lane had expected to find an empty horse. Frankly, so had Reese. But her lean colt kept digging in, fighting like a champ with the desire not to lose. Reese did not move on him and was impressed with how much effort he was putting in. His ears were pinned to his neck and remained that way when Red's white face came to his throatlatch. Ashes to Ashes bore down on both of them, ears flicking over his head. Reese saw Brooks glance over at the blood bay, shaking his head. She knew he cursed.
Lane did no such thing. She flicked her fingers and grinned widely when the blood bay stallion moved to the lead with a rush of energy. He bounded a half-length in front. Mourn and Red cruised through the wire, neither getting the advantage over the other. Red galloped out beyond both Ashes and Mourn, seemingly unpleased. Brooks patted the colt's neck. You'll get 'em next time. And all the rest as well.
Reese brought Mourn to a trot, loving how spunky the colt was acting. He threw a buck, full of himself despite what should have been a taxing effort. He was a good horse. He only had three starts under his belt. It was only a matter of time before he started showing his talent out on the track.
super-nonsensical
Hoofbeats sounded through the valley as Ripley's next set of horses came down to the track. Her green eyes sparked and she walked to the open back window of the watch box. She lifted black binoculars to her eyes, stood with a cocked hip. Her entire body relaxed as she trained the sights on the trio of horses jogging down the path. Midnight Thriller, Hokum and Supernatural all looked to be the picture of pure health. Dapples glinted off of Hokum's hindquarters, Midnight Thriller's body shone like the wing of a raven and Supernatural glowed like the moon in the night sky. These horses were absolutely incredible to look at. Ripley reminded herself that she needed to focus on more than their overall beauty.
Hokum jogged with his powerful neck bowed and his ears pricked on the track. He was a powerful animal, strong, lean and focused. There was nothing about Hokum that wasn't magnificent. Justin rode the colt's swift stride with relative ease. Hokum was relaxed for a change, calculating so, but relaxed nonetheless. Justin patted the colt's thick neck. The horse had put in two great efforts in his last two starts. He would be looking a victory next start out. Justin would be looking for vengeance. He wanted to prove everyone that Hokum was just as good as all of the rest of the three year olds.
Reese had rushed like a madwoman to untack, cool out and stable Mourning Passion. She'd had to continue her swift pace to groom and tack up Supernatural. Ripley had one more set of horses before she had to drive to Green Horse Fields to put in entries. Reese had not wanted to make her late, especially after her morning with Brookson Wells. Siri had taken just fine to all of the rushing around. The filly glowed in her perfect health, sleek colt flicking off the chill. Her nostrils were flared and her eyes were bright and eager. The Dylan Himself filly looked like a million bucks. She was a million bucks. Her next start would be in the Gallop To The Gallows Stakes in November Week One over her prized track, The Wire. The season was winding down, but Siri was just getting started.
Lane Thompson sat tall abroad the black mare that stalked as if she were going after prey. Midnight Thriller was as high energy as they came today. Her eyes glinted with a ferocity and fire that always seemed to boil in her vein. Lane was pleased with the fierceness that wafted off of Midnight Thriller. She was a good horse on the verge of possibly being great. All it would take was another season to get her there. Lane rubbed the mare's fine neck. Midtee bowed it, prancing briefly, but quickly shook off the affection.
They had arrived at the track.
Hokum immediately burst into a canter, long strides encompassing a vast amount of ground. The dark bay horse bowed his neck, pulling reins through Justin's hands. The horse's eyes glowed with excitement and eagerness. He wanted to go. Justin couldn't wait for the horse's next start in the Quality Road Stakes. Hokum was looking to make the winner's circle. Justin leaned close to the horse's pulsing neck, delving in all of the strength that the horse possessed. He was limbered up and ready to go. Justin peaked under his arm.
Supernatural's lean frame ranged up to Hokum's outside. Her long legs covered the ground beautifully, her dished nose lifted into the air. Her gray mane waved in the breeze as she galloped. Reese was so pleased with the way this filly was going. Siri was entering a domain of talented horses, but Reese was confident that the gray would be just as competitive with these horses and with the horses awaiting her in the major two year old division. Reese let the reins hang slack as Siri cocked her head to the inside and analyzed Hokum. Reese let the filly get a good long look of the monstrous bay before tucking her back. Midnight Thriller cruised into the spot Siri had abandoned.
The black mare immediately pushed Hokum up to another notch in the gallop. She did not want this leisurely pace. She wanted to go. If the other horses couldn't handle the pace then they shouldn't be on her track. The black mare spread her lean body over the dirt, getting the most bang for her buck. Lane was spread across the Night Stalker daughter's neck. Midnight Thriller was an aerodynamic horse. She demanded Lane be the same.
Hokum swept into the backstretch, ears bobbing over his cranium with every strong stride. He maintained a half-length lead over the marathon runner that was Midnight Thriller. He eyed her aggressively. He did not know much about Midtee, had not really faced her often. But from the look of her, she would be tough. He cruised with giant strides and dared the black one to keep pace. She wasn't the only marathon runner in this place any longer.
Midnight Thriller streaked along, a black comet at the shoulder of Hokum. Siri danced along a length and a half behind the thunderous pair. Her steps were light and fleeting. She eyed the older horses intensely. Reese had a feeling that Siri knew exactly who she was dealing with. She perched softly at the filly's dappled gray withers, excited to be apart of a filly with such confidence as a two year old. Confidence made a difference. It helped to get a horse to the winner's circle if they knew they could win.
The trio curved through the far turn, strides shortening as each of them were relatively rangy and tall. Hokum and Midtee remained stagnant in their positions, neither of them moving out into a wider path. Siri followed suit, tucking in right behind Midnight Thriller. Reese curled close to her filly, impressed with how much confidence she carried herself with. She moved with assurance where Mourn had been frantic from being locked behind. However, they were two different horses with two distinctly different running styles. Supernatural fell back another length as the front runner and stalker swept down the homestretch. Siri's ears flicked over head as she cruised just out of range of the kickback.
Lane kept Midtee locked at Hokum's neck as the pair of them lunged beneath the wire and back into the first turn. The two furlong blitz workout would be used in this match up as well. Midnight Thriller was more of a gradual runner than Ashes to Ashes. She got faster with every stride unlike Ashes who packed a punch immediately. Lane kept her with Hokum, knowing that this tactic would make a bigger difference.
Justin moved aboard Hokum the instant the horse had straightened up in the backstretch. The dark bay strolled down the track, legs just stretching right out to dominate the dirt. Justin leaned close, stilled his hands as Hokum drew to an impressive speed. He knew Midtee was still with them. The black mare had been relentless throughout the mile and a quarter. She would remain relentless even now. Lane was silent, only moving her fingers and tapping once in a while. Midnight Thriller had reached the same speed Hokum was at. She flew side by side with Hokum. A half furlong to go.
Reese had taken the inside route with Mourn, but the overland route always worked best with Supernatural. She guided the filly to the right of Midnight Thriller's haunches and pressed her hand forward. The greyhound filly lined out immediately, plunging into racing speed. Her legs swept over the course, hooves skittering over the ground as though she weren't actually touching it. She surged up Midnight Thriller's right, running at the black's saddlecloth. Her eyes glinted with excitement and eagerness. Reese shook the reins, grinning with Supernatural picked up another gear.
Hokum now had two fillies on his hooves and each seemed to be getting stronger with every stride. His gaze hardened into a ball of ice and he reached down for more. He burst forth with a dramatic bolt, but found himself deadlocked with both black and gray. Frustration welled up within the colt. Justin could feel it burning Hokum as Midnight Thriller finally edged ahead. She dropped her nose down at the furlong pole and finished in front. Hokum and Supernatural finished even with one another, but were separated with the tougher Midnight Thriller.
Siri slowed to an easy, floating gallop. Her ears flicked over head and she remained watchful and wary of the older horses. Reese patted her neck. That was a beautiful start for Supernatural. It was perfect. Reese kissed the filly's neck and found herself excited to see what the future would bring her way.
Midnight Thriller sent taunting looks at Hokum as she remained in the lead in the gallop out. Her body was absolutely lit up with gloating. Lane giggled, enjoying Midtee's meanness. Hokum pinned his ears repeatedly at Midtee. Every time she got close, he would bare his teeth. Justin stroked his powerful neck. The colt had obviously had enough of females and enough of losing. Next time he would be tough. Justin couldn't wait for that next race.
Hokum jogged with his powerful neck bowed and his ears pricked on the track. He was a powerful animal, strong, lean and focused. There was nothing about Hokum that wasn't magnificent. Justin rode the colt's swift stride with relative ease. Hokum was relaxed for a change, calculating so, but relaxed nonetheless. Justin patted the colt's thick neck. The horse had put in two great efforts in his last two starts. He would be looking a victory next start out. Justin would be looking for vengeance. He wanted to prove everyone that Hokum was just as good as all of the rest of the three year olds.
Reese had rushed like a madwoman to untack, cool out and stable Mourning Passion. She'd had to continue her swift pace to groom and tack up Supernatural. Ripley had one more set of horses before she had to drive to Green Horse Fields to put in entries. Reese had not wanted to make her late, especially after her morning with Brookson Wells. Siri had taken just fine to all of the rushing around. The filly glowed in her perfect health, sleek colt flicking off the chill. Her nostrils were flared and her eyes were bright and eager. The Dylan Himself filly looked like a million bucks. She was a million bucks. Her next start would be in the Gallop To The Gallows Stakes in November Week One over her prized track, The Wire. The season was winding down, but Siri was just getting started.
Lane Thompson sat tall abroad the black mare that stalked as if she were going after prey. Midnight Thriller was as high energy as they came today. Her eyes glinted with a ferocity and fire that always seemed to boil in her vein. Lane was pleased with the fierceness that wafted off of Midnight Thriller. She was a good horse on the verge of possibly being great. All it would take was another season to get her there. Lane rubbed the mare's fine neck. Midtee bowed it, prancing briefly, but quickly shook off the affection.
They had arrived at the track.
Hokum immediately burst into a canter, long strides encompassing a vast amount of ground. The dark bay horse bowed his neck, pulling reins through Justin's hands. The horse's eyes glowed with excitement and eagerness. He wanted to go. Justin couldn't wait for the horse's next start in the Quality Road Stakes. Hokum was looking to make the winner's circle. Justin leaned close to the horse's pulsing neck, delving in all of the strength that the horse possessed. He was limbered up and ready to go. Justin peaked under his arm.
Supernatural's lean frame ranged up to Hokum's outside. Her long legs covered the ground beautifully, her dished nose lifted into the air. Her gray mane waved in the breeze as she galloped. Reese was so pleased with the way this filly was going. Siri was entering a domain of talented horses, but Reese was confident that the gray would be just as competitive with these horses and with the horses awaiting her in the major two year old division. Reese let the reins hang slack as Siri cocked her head to the inside and analyzed Hokum. Reese let the filly get a good long look of the monstrous bay before tucking her back. Midnight Thriller cruised into the spot Siri had abandoned.
The black mare immediately pushed Hokum up to another notch in the gallop. She did not want this leisurely pace. She wanted to go. If the other horses couldn't handle the pace then they shouldn't be on her track. The black mare spread her lean body over the dirt, getting the most bang for her buck. Lane was spread across the Night Stalker daughter's neck. Midnight Thriller was an aerodynamic horse. She demanded Lane be the same.
Hokum swept into the backstretch, ears bobbing over his cranium with every strong stride. He maintained a half-length lead over the marathon runner that was Midnight Thriller. He eyed her aggressively. He did not know much about Midtee, had not really faced her often. But from the look of her, she would be tough. He cruised with giant strides and dared the black one to keep pace. She wasn't the only marathon runner in this place any longer.
Midnight Thriller streaked along, a black comet at the shoulder of Hokum. Siri danced along a length and a half behind the thunderous pair. Her steps were light and fleeting. She eyed the older horses intensely. Reese had a feeling that Siri knew exactly who she was dealing with. She perched softly at the filly's dappled gray withers, excited to be apart of a filly with such confidence as a two year old. Confidence made a difference. It helped to get a horse to the winner's circle if they knew they could win.
The trio curved through the far turn, strides shortening as each of them were relatively rangy and tall. Hokum and Midtee remained stagnant in their positions, neither of them moving out into a wider path. Siri followed suit, tucking in right behind Midnight Thriller. Reese curled close to her filly, impressed with how much confidence she carried herself with. She moved with assurance where Mourn had been frantic from being locked behind. However, they were two different horses with two distinctly different running styles. Supernatural fell back another length as the front runner and stalker swept down the homestretch. Siri's ears flicked over head as she cruised just out of range of the kickback.
Lane kept Midtee locked at Hokum's neck as the pair of them lunged beneath the wire and back into the first turn. The two furlong blitz workout would be used in this match up as well. Midnight Thriller was more of a gradual runner than Ashes to Ashes. She got faster with every stride unlike Ashes who packed a punch immediately. Lane kept her with Hokum, knowing that this tactic would make a bigger difference.
Justin moved aboard Hokum the instant the horse had straightened up in the backstretch. The dark bay strolled down the track, legs just stretching right out to dominate the dirt. Justin leaned close, stilled his hands as Hokum drew to an impressive speed. He knew Midtee was still with them. The black mare had been relentless throughout the mile and a quarter. She would remain relentless even now. Lane was silent, only moving her fingers and tapping once in a while. Midnight Thriller had reached the same speed Hokum was at. She flew side by side with Hokum. A half furlong to go.
Reese had taken the inside route with Mourn, but the overland route always worked best with Supernatural. She guided the filly to the right of Midnight Thriller's haunches and pressed her hand forward. The greyhound filly lined out immediately, plunging into racing speed. Her legs swept over the course, hooves skittering over the ground as though she weren't actually touching it. She surged up Midnight Thriller's right, running at the black's saddlecloth. Her eyes glinted with excitement and eagerness. Reese shook the reins, grinning with Supernatural picked up another gear.
Hokum now had two fillies on his hooves and each seemed to be getting stronger with every stride. His gaze hardened into a ball of ice and he reached down for more. He burst forth with a dramatic bolt, but found himself deadlocked with both black and gray. Frustration welled up within the colt. Justin could feel it burning Hokum as Midnight Thriller finally edged ahead. She dropped her nose down at the furlong pole and finished in front. Hokum and Supernatural finished even with one another, but were separated with the tougher Midnight Thriller.
Siri slowed to an easy, floating gallop. Her ears flicked over head and she remained watchful and wary of the older horses. Reese patted her neck. That was a beautiful start for Supernatural. It was perfect. Reese kissed the filly's neck and found herself excited to see what the future would bring her way.
Midnight Thriller sent taunting looks at Hokum as she remained in the lead in the gallop out. Her body was absolutely lit up with gloating. Lane giggled, enjoying Midtee's meanness. Hokum pinned his ears repeatedly at Midtee. Every time she got close, he would bare his teeth. Justin stroked his powerful neck. The colt had obviously had enough of females and enough of losing. Next time he would be tough. Justin couldn't wait for that next race.
bring the heat
"We've got The Wire Social tonight. Well, Maggie and I do. We're technically not going as dates, but whatever. Girl's night out. Tomorrow entries for November Week One need to be in for both The Wire and Green Horse Fields. Malcolm and I will do that. He'll return, handle all of the yearlings. Reese and Laura and Brooks you'll be needed for your respective horses. Maggie and Justin take care of the tack for this weeks upcoming races, load it into the truck. Laura you're doing evening feed tonight. Reese morning feed tomorrow morning. Horses going to The Wire are: Ashes, Hokum, Crow, and Fie. Horses going to GHF are: Cross, Diana, Queenie, Darla, and Frenchie. It's going to be a big weekend. We ship out tomorrow so that the horses can settle in. Brooks will take care of The Wire and I will remain at GHF until Darla's race. Maggie will come to GHF after Crow's race at The Wire. Fie's in the last race at The Wire so I'll be riding. Maggie will be aboard Queenie. Maggie, Laura and Lane you'll load the horses back up on the trailer after Frenchie gets cooled out. Reese, Brooks, Justin and I will load our guys up and meet you back home afterward. Hopefully, with a couple of wins under our belt."
Ripley's cat-green eyes flickered over her assembled crowd. All nodded in agreement with schedule. Reese gave her the thumbs up. Reese always enjoyed morning feed because she had the place to herself. Solitary work kept the woman sane. She had five barns of horses to take care of and considered it a competition of sorts. Maggie shook her head, What was I thinking when I scheduled Crow and Queenie in two different places. Ripley grinned. You weren't. I did. She fits at Green Horse Fields. It's where her best performances have come. Malcolm gestured that he was leaving and was quickly out the door. When Ripley was giving marching orders it was best to make a quick and quiet exit.
Reese and Lane relaxed comfortably on the couch. Brooks had gone to work on the billing for the stable. Maggie was standing at the door, tapping her foot impatiently. This next workout was something Maggie wanted to get moving on. Ripley had a plan that involved Paranormal Hunter and Cross My Heart. Maggie wasn't sure exactly how things would go because Cross was a speed horse and Para was a closer. However, it would be a fascinating situation. Ripley always had stuff up her sleeve. It was one magic trick after another around Witch Creek Stable. Ripley walked out the door, Maggie close on her heels. The two recently hired grooms: Kendall and Quinn had Cross and Para all tacked up and waiting inside the main aisle of the racing barn. Kendall's eyes shined with excitement, her hand stroking excitedly down Cross' jet black neck. The girl had gotten the position on account of Ripley speaking with her parents. Kendall could not have been more gracious in her few days of working with Witch Creek.
Quinn's shoulders moved nonchalantly under his beat up leather jacket. The blonde haired boy did not necessarily want to be at Witch Creek, but he'd needed a job. Clint had got him the job working with his cousin Brooks. It was good money, but he wanted to work a little easier than was expected of him. He yawned a tired yawn, handed Maggiletti Reynolds, the blonde bombshell, the reins to her mount. Paranormal Hunter nuzzled Maggie's hands, dark eyes wide with excitement. Cross' energy had transported over to the plain Jane filly. Maggie could not wait to get on Para and test her against Cross. Cross was the epitome of class, speed and skill over the turf. A workout against that black filly would immediately let Maggie know where Para stood. The towering filly's ears followed Cross as Ripley led the black from the barn. There was eagerness and some unknown quality glinting in those dark eyes. Maggie had a feeling Para wanted to take a crack at Cross My Heart.
Ripley swiftly mounted up onto the back of her prized turf filly. Cross's eyes filled with excitement and the mad-rush of pure speed. She was an absolute nutcase when it came to racing. A barely controllable nutcase that could run a horse into the ground with just a casual flick of her tail. Cross had gotten a layoff fit for a champion and now she was winding up, prepared to strike again. The black filly whinnied loudly as she trotted off of the dirt path and onto the turf track. Her home was on the green grass. She was born to run. She could handle the dirt, but turf was where her heart belonged. She was a rare turf horse that could stay on the lead and keep right on going even with pressure. Ripley had a special fondness for the black filly. Cross did not need to work for them, but she did. She laid it all out on the track every single race. Ripley had come to believe that Cross was one of the hardiest sprinter fillies she had ever met in her lifetime.
Para set out at a solid ground-eating trot. Her ears were pricked over her head and she was definitely more into the bit than was normal. Maggie posted in the saddle, blue eyes glowing with delight. Para was definitely more interested in Cross than Maggie had expected. She wondered how Ripley could have known that Cross was such a trigger object for the usually grumpy Paranormal Hunter. Para ducked her head, snorting vociferously through her nostrils. She was coming off a powerful victory in the Hawk Cup over grade three Demonic Desires and a whole slew of talented other two year olds. She was not at Cross's level, but Maggie thought this was the sleeper horse coming into the Breeders Cup. Para was getting good, not that she had ever performed badly, and getting good at the right time of the season. Maggie patted the filly's strong neck, urged her forward when she saw Ripley waiting for them at the base of the first hill.
Ripley grinned, taking in Para's eager features. Just as I suspected. Let's do a mile gallop and three furlong blitz in the flat. It'll wake them both up to whats on the way. Cross bounded forward with a swift snap of pure speed. Her black legs whipped beneath her sleek body, pushing enough power through them to conquer the hill in a matter of seconds. Maggie niggled the reins and Para launched into stride. The bigger filly, bigger than Cross ever would be, took a moment to get into stride, but boy was it a thing of beauty. She rolled up the hillside, ears bobbing up and down with her motions. Maggie sat quietly in the saddle. Ripley wanted a faster workout today. Para would move as fast as possible to stay within target range of Cross My Heart.
Cross coasted down the hillside, ears pinned in her mane as she ran. Ripley's face was whipped persistently by the long Medusa tresses belonging to her favored filly. Her eyes glinted from the rawness of emotion that traveled between horse and rider. Cross was her heart and soul. When there was trouble it was Cross that Ripley went to. Cross could handle any painful memory or problem and drum it up to pure athletic release. Ripley leaned close to her filly's high held head, hands relaxed at the base of her withers. The black settled into a swift, but economical stride. Cross had changed bit by bit over the season. Her speed craziness remained, but now Ripley had some control. She could sustain Cross' rally over a while and tap into gears that she hadn't been able to before. Cross was becoming a champion for the ages with every inch of progress she made. The speed crazy freak was turning into an even more dangerous opponent.
Para tracked Cross four lengths behind. More was being asked of her than in any other workout of the season. Her muscles were limbered up and ready to be put to the full-on test. Her eyes glinted with determination even though her body language was that of a relatively relaxed horse. Paranormal Hunter was not going to underestimate the sleek horse surging ahead of her. She had a brain and she was going to exploit it mercilessly. Maggie remained quiet as the pair charged through four furlongs of the mile gallop. Cross was cruising along at a fast, but not her usual scary fast clip. Her blue eyes narrowed sharply. Ripley was going to have a ton of horse at the end if Cross kept this kind of run up.
Ripley glanced beneath her shoulder as Cross hit the crest of one of the final hills. Paranormal Hunter was not far behind them, a lot closer than she had expected. She had been restraining Cross in some way and Maggie had been keeping Para on her toes. The bay two year old sure looked fantastic, her muscles rippling beneath her dappled out hide. Ripley faced forward as Cross descended, hooves hitting precisely against the turf. The black filly was listening to Para's approach when she reached the flat. A shudder flicked through the filly and her speed picked up. Ripley guessed that Para had picked it up a notch. Cross was a reacting horse. She moved on instinct in order to keep herself safe and ahead of the game. The winter wind slapped Ripley in the face, but her happiness could not be cooled off.
Maggie let Para out a notch, feeling the filly gradually pick up speed. She was chipping away at Cross' now widening lead. Maggie would not curse under her breath. Cross was clearly exploiting her new found talent to beat her competition into the ground. Maggie shook the rein a little at Para, nodding when the bay filly bounded forward. Her stride lengthened tremendously up the hillside. Her eyes glowed with knowing. On the other side of this hill was the three furlong flat. Maggie braced herself for Para's excitement at the crest. She was not disappointed. The towering bay filly crow hopped over the slender crest, shortening her stride only slightly in her pursuit of Cross My Heart.
Ripley did not hold Cross My Heart back any longer. Once she hit the flat, Cross hit high gear. Ripley clung like a burr to the brilliant filly as she streaked across the browning grass. This would be the filly's last official workout over the hilly turf course. It would be closed after this week. Cross would get the most out of it that she could. Ripley yanked her goggles down as the wind threatened to freeze her eyes. Her gloved fingers twined intimately with the black mane. She didn't move after that. Cross was on her own from this moment out. She was on auto-pilot and Ripley was just the passenger.
Maggie pushed mightily against Paranormal Hunter. While Cross was an easy ride in the fastest part of the race, Para needed a lot of urging to get up and get. The blonde woman chirped at the filly, throwing her weight to express her need for forward movement. The bay turf monster beneath her locked her ears back into her mane, eyes blazing with fury and intensity. She did not like Maggie pushing her to move faster. In order to please her demanding rider, Para stepped out into the speed of a freight train. She poured it on down the straightaway, legs reaching far and sweeping over the turf course. Her body was stretched nearly parallel to the ground as she trucked after Cross. Her fierce strides closed the gap and Maggie stopped her encouragement. Para kept going, bulletting across the turf because the end goal was in sight. Cross was a length away.
Cross tensed up dramatically when Paranormal Hunter reached her tail. Ripley could feel the irritation burn within her black filly. Cross had thought she'd done away with this particular foe. Cross tapped into another gear, legs blurring with her intense speed. Para was coming though. Ripley glanced to her right in a sort of shock. She had not expected Para to catch up so quickly. She went to work on Cross, niggling the reins. The black filly responded, dashing away to a half-length lead. Para remained at her barrel though no matter what kind of speed Cross My Heart threw down. The pair of turf sprinters launched beneath the wire, eyes glinting with loathing for one another. Cross relaxed as soon as she crossed the wire in front, ears pricked. She neighed triumphantly and watched as Para thundered up the hillside beyond her. Para had been close, but Cross had still beat her. The win was even more rewarding because of it.
Ripley's cat-green eyes flickered over her assembled crowd. All nodded in agreement with schedule. Reese gave her the thumbs up. Reese always enjoyed morning feed because she had the place to herself. Solitary work kept the woman sane. She had five barns of horses to take care of and considered it a competition of sorts. Maggie shook her head, What was I thinking when I scheduled Crow and Queenie in two different places. Ripley grinned. You weren't. I did. She fits at Green Horse Fields. It's where her best performances have come. Malcolm gestured that he was leaving and was quickly out the door. When Ripley was giving marching orders it was best to make a quick and quiet exit.
Reese and Lane relaxed comfortably on the couch. Brooks had gone to work on the billing for the stable. Maggie was standing at the door, tapping her foot impatiently. This next workout was something Maggie wanted to get moving on. Ripley had a plan that involved Paranormal Hunter and Cross My Heart. Maggie wasn't sure exactly how things would go because Cross was a speed horse and Para was a closer. However, it would be a fascinating situation. Ripley always had stuff up her sleeve. It was one magic trick after another around Witch Creek Stable. Ripley walked out the door, Maggie close on her heels. The two recently hired grooms: Kendall and Quinn had Cross and Para all tacked up and waiting inside the main aisle of the racing barn. Kendall's eyes shined with excitement, her hand stroking excitedly down Cross' jet black neck. The girl had gotten the position on account of Ripley speaking with her parents. Kendall could not have been more gracious in her few days of working with Witch Creek.
Quinn's shoulders moved nonchalantly under his beat up leather jacket. The blonde haired boy did not necessarily want to be at Witch Creek, but he'd needed a job. Clint had got him the job working with his cousin Brooks. It was good money, but he wanted to work a little easier than was expected of him. He yawned a tired yawn, handed Maggiletti Reynolds, the blonde bombshell, the reins to her mount. Paranormal Hunter nuzzled Maggie's hands, dark eyes wide with excitement. Cross' energy had transported over to the plain Jane filly. Maggie could not wait to get on Para and test her against Cross. Cross was the epitome of class, speed and skill over the turf. A workout against that black filly would immediately let Maggie know where Para stood. The towering filly's ears followed Cross as Ripley led the black from the barn. There was eagerness and some unknown quality glinting in those dark eyes. Maggie had a feeling Para wanted to take a crack at Cross My Heart.
Ripley swiftly mounted up onto the back of her prized turf filly. Cross's eyes filled with excitement and the mad-rush of pure speed. She was an absolute nutcase when it came to racing. A barely controllable nutcase that could run a horse into the ground with just a casual flick of her tail. Cross had gotten a layoff fit for a champion and now she was winding up, prepared to strike again. The black filly whinnied loudly as she trotted off of the dirt path and onto the turf track. Her home was on the green grass. She was born to run. She could handle the dirt, but turf was where her heart belonged. She was a rare turf horse that could stay on the lead and keep right on going even with pressure. Ripley had a special fondness for the black filly. Cross did not need to work for them, but she did. She laid it all out on the track every single race. Ripley had come to believe that Cross was one of the hardiest sprinter fillies she had ever met in her lifetime.
Para set out at a solid ground-eating trot. Her ears were pricked over her head and she was definitely more into the bit than was normal. Maggie posted in the saddle, blue eyes glowing with delight. Para was definitely more interested in Cross than Maggie had expected. She wondered how Ripley could have known that Cross was such a trigger object for the usually grumpy Paranormal Hunter. Para ducked her head, snorting vociferously through her nostrils. She was coming off a powerful victory in the Hawk Cup over grade three Demonic Desires and a whole slew of talented other two year olds. She was not at Cross's level, but Maggie thought this was the sleeper horse coming into the Breeders Cup. Para was getting good, not that she had ever performed badly, and getting good at the right time of the season. Maggie patted the filly's strong neck, urged her forward when she saw Ripley waiting for them at the base of the first hill.
Ripley grinned, taking in Para's eager features. Just as I suspected. Let's do a mile gallop and three furlong blitz in the flat. It'll wake them both up to whats on the way. Cross bounded forward with a swift snap of pure speed. Her black legs whipped beneath her sleek body, pushing enough power through them to conquer the hill in a matter of seconds. Maggie niggled the reins and Para launched into stride. The bigger filly, bigger than Cross ever would be, took a moment to get into stride, but boy was it a thing of beauty. She rolled up the hillside, ears bobbing up and down with her motions. Maggie sat quietly in the saddle. Ripley wanted a faster workout today. Para would move as fast as possible to stay within target range of Cross My Heart.
Cross coasted down the hillside, ears pinned in her mane as she ran. Ripley's face was whipped persistently by the long Medusa tresses belonging to her favored filly. Her eyes glinted from the rawness of emotion that traveled between horse and rider. Cross was her heart and soul. When there was trouble it was Cross that Ripley went to. Cross could handle any painful memory or problem and drum it up to pure athletic release. Ripley leaned close to her filly's high held head, hands relaxed at the base of her withers. The black settled into a swift, but economical stride. Cross had changed bit by bit over the season. Her speed craziness remained, but now Ripley had some control. She could sustain Cross' rally over a while and tap into gears that she hadn't been able to before. Cross was becoming a champion for the ages with every inch of progress she made. The speed crazy freak was turning into an even more dangerous opponent.
Para tracked Cross four lengths behind. More was being asked of her than in any other workout of the season. Her muscles were limbered up and ready to be put to the full-on test. Her eyes glinted with determination even though her body language was that of a relatively relaxed horse. Paranormal Hunter was not going to underestimate the sleek horse surging ahead of her. She had a brain and she was going to exploit it mercilessly. Maggie remained quiet as the pair charged through four furlongs of the mile gallop. Cross was cruising along at a fast, but not her usual scary fast clip. Her blue eyes narrowed sharply. Ripley was going to have a ton of horse at the end if Cross kept this kind of run up.
Ripley glanced beneath her shoulder as Cross hit the crest of one of the final hills. Paranormal Hunter was not far behind them, a lot closer than she had expected. She had been restraining Cross in some way and Maggie had been keeping Para on her toes. The bay two year old sure looked fantastic, her muscles rippling beneath her dappled out hide. Ripley faced forward as Cross descended, hooves hitting precisely against the turf. The black filly was listening to Para's approach when she reached the flat. A shudder flicked through the filly and her speed picked up. Ripley guessed that Para had picked it up a notch. Cross was a reacting horse. She moved on instinct in order to keep herself safe and ahead of the game. The winter wind slapped Ripley in the face, but her happiness could not be cooled off.
Maggie let Para out a notch, feeling the filly gradually pick up speed. She was chipping away at Cross' now widening lead. Maggie would not curse under her breath. Cross was clearly exploiting her new found talent to beat her competition into the ground. Maggie shook the rein a little at Para, nodding when the bay filly bounded forward. Her stride lengthened tremendously up the hillside. Her eyes glowed with knowing. On the other side of this hill was the three furlong flat. Maggie braced herself for Para's excitement at the crest. She was not disappointed. The towering bay filly crow hopped over the slender crest, shortening her stride only slightly in her pursuit of Cross My Heart.
Ripley did not hold Cross My Heart back any longer. Once she hit the flat, Cross hit high gear. Ripley clung like a burr to the brilliant filly as she streaked across the browning grass. This would be the filly's last official workout over the hilly turf course. It would be closed after this week. Cross would get the most out of it that she could. Ripley yanked her goggles down as the wind threatened to freeze her eyes. Her gloved fingers twined intimately with the black mane. She didn't move after that. Cross was on her own from this moment out. She was on auto-pilot and Ripley was just the passenger.
Maggie pushed mightily against Paranormal Hunter. While Cross was an easy ride in the fastest part of the race, Para needed a lot of urging to get up and get. The blonde woman chirped at the filly, throwing her weight to express her need for forward movement. The bay turf monster beneath her locked her ears back into her mane, eyes blazing with fury and intensity. She did not like Maggie pushing her to move faster. In order to please her demanding rider, Para stepped out into the speed of a freight train. She poured it on down the straightaway, legs reaching far and sweeping over the turf course. Her body was stretched nearly parallel to the ground as she trucked after Cross. Her fierce strides closed the gap and Maggie stopped her encouragement. Para kept going, bulletting across the turf because the end goal was in sight. Cross was a length away.
Cross tensed up dramatically when Paranormal Hunter reached her tail. Ripley could feel the irritation burn within her black filly. Cross had thought she'd done away with this particular foe. Cross tapped into another gear, legs blurring with her intense speed. Para was coming though. Ripley glanced to her right in a sort of shock. She had not expected Para to catch up so quickly. She went to work on Cross, niggling the reins. The black filly responded, dashing away to a half-length lead. Para remained at her barrel though no matter what kind of speed Cross My Heart threw down. The pair of turf sprinters launched beneath the wire, eyes glinting with loathing for one another. Cross relaxed as soon as she crossed the wire in front, ears pricked. She neighed triumphantly and watched as Para thundered up the hillside beyond her. Para had been close, but Cross had still beat her. The win was even more rewarding because of it.