Ripley's green eyes lit as the noise in the barn finally died down. Banished to the outside, Ripley had been itching to get back in for two reasons: one it was freaking cold out and 2) the yearling filly was causing trouble. There were very few annoyances in Ripley's life currently, but being banned from her own barn due to her pregnancy could change that. Her blood was firing red hot with fury at Brookson Wells and Malcolm Floyd for banishing her. Did she not have to train and deal with this unpleasant filly next year at the age of two? Would she not be hands on even in the latest months of her pregnancy? She hated when men ran herd on her. Especially when she was clinging to the last bits of her jockeying career. The auburn haired woman let out a fierce huff, shoved her hands through her hair at the wild whistle that floated down the hall. Memories of prior wild yearlings flicked through her head and all had turned manageable with the work. This one was just full of herself and full of the rampant true-blue Touch Up blood. A daughter of Touch Up lurked the halls of Witch Creek and Ripley was on cloud nine. Not since Y8 had she raised a single daughter of Touch Up. Calamity Queen, Fiery Touch, and In Front had all come to her barn in the their three year old years. Winning Touch had been a docile weanling, but she had moved on as a yearling to In Stride racing. The only filly before that had been The Devil's Touch. She had been the fiercest in attitude and the most troublesome from all of the rumors of Touch Up's other offspring. This one, in Ripley's opinion, was doing her best to rival The Devil. And she certainly was succeeding. Ripley winced at the sound of hooves thudding against wood. "Come on now," she heard Mal say. His voice was taut with unease and nerves, displaying to Ripley that True was the hardest horse to deal with in the Y13 crop. He had yet to lose his cool, but True was doing her best to push him over the limit. Silence preceded Brooks rolling the barn door open, his blue eyes bashful when he met Ripley's ferocious gaze. He shrugged in that male way and only made Ripley all the more mad. Movement behind the father of her child drew Ripley's gaze away, just in time to miss Brooks' sigh of relief. The only person smiling out of the quartet of humans was Ripley. Reese had her hands locked in mane, her face a picture of concentration. Frown lines marred her forehead as the horse beneath her launched into a half rear, striking with her front hooves. Mal grunted, tugged hard on the rope to force the filly on her feet. He was yanked in turn through the door, feet dragging in the dirt in protest. The bay filly snorted, eyes ablaze and would have gone after the mane mouth agape had Reese not chosen the moment to pull back on the bit. Ripley coughed as the dust settled, waving her hand in her face. "Now that boys is why everyone wants a Touch Up daughter." Mal snorted and Brooks glared at Ripley. "So let everyone else take one and leave us in peace." "I'm not in the habit of giving away champions." Reese nodded in agreement, finally allowing herself to release some tension. The bay filly shook beneath her like a big dog, tail switching over her haunches irritably. Reese hung on, held her breath. True was not one to be trusted by any means, that much she had proven. However, if this wasn't a runner, the sky wasn't blue. Mal, Brooks and Ripley basically came to the same conclusion as they looked upon the filly. Her bay body glimmered in the winter sunlight, her long tail floated gracefully to her ankles and her wide forehead was covered by a flowing forelock. True could only be described as beautiful, but that beauty did not hide the power of her. Her muscles were thick, her chest wide, her haunches large. Her legs were clean and long, carrying her height to a stunning 16.2 hands. She was the same height as Uno and her sire's size promised more height to come. "Now that is what a Touch Up and Strike The Win baby is supposed to look like. "I'm ready to watch her run. Mile gallop, let her cruise the last three furlongs." The filly stalked down the hill toward the dirt track, tail swinging behind her. She knew she was incredible and she knew she was strong. If not for Enrapture and Lady Timeah, Ripley would have crowned her one of the prettiest fillies Witch Creek had ever raised. But pretty is as pretty does. Reese hummed when the Touch Up daughter stepped hoof on the dirt. True seemed to come alive, ears pricking, neck bowing. Her knees lifted in an elegant dance and her legs tucked under her with grace. Reese had to admit this was probably one of the few horses she'd sat on that absolutely resonated with her. It was a presence thing. Awestruck simply had that extra something. The trainers settled in at the rail, eyes following the filly as she skipped into a lope. She pounded the earth beneath her even though she gave the illusion of moving effortlessly. Her stride was massive and she ate up the ground diligently. Reese kept her hands at the filly's neck, eyes forward and forcing herself to breath. The air seemed to crackle around True and Reese just couldn't put her finger on why. As the bay filly rolled through the backstretch, Reese became more and more suspicious. True was doing everything too good. She had an audience and she was behaving. There was no protest when Reese asked to go to the rail. Not even a flick of the tail. The Touch Up daughter did as she was told and that simply was not like her. An ominous feeling swelled in Reese, but she could only do as the filly did, which was gallop along handily. Mal placed his hands on the rail, swinging away from it with unease. Brooks and Ripley cast quick glances at him, but resumed their watch of the long striding filly. "I don't like it." He paced away, keeping an eye on the show. That's what it was though. Awestruck was putting on a show. Mal could have heard a pin drop so keen was his hearing at the moment. He was waiting for it. That explosion was about to happen. There always seemed to be trick about these fillies. Mal was just about to remark that very thing when it happened. Reese barely had a moments notice before the mile gallop reached the half and her mount decided it was time to ditch her. The filly practically dove out from under Reese who was left clinging to wild mane as the filly balked and roared to the inside. The wind change buffeted Reese who held on by the skin of her teeth, long enough to snag thickets of waving black mine. The three furlongs had suddenly turned to four furlongs and it was much more than just a "cruise." The filly blitzed into the turn, centrifugal force carrying her out to the four path. She blew the turn wildly, and Reese was once again praying to stay aboard. Her equilibrium was shot as the bay filly stormed straight on the turn instead of rolling with it. Reese took a deep breath, gathered her courage and pulled the left rein before the filly hit the outside rail of the home stretch. It was a testament to True's athletic abilities that she was able to grind almost to a halt, turn on her haunches and fling herself wildly into a sprint down the stretch. The speed was absolutely terrifying, so out of control was it. If she had not been experienced, Reese would have pondered risking broken limbs to get off the runaway. The woman moved up the filly's neck, clutching her mane and doing her best to pull the horse up. True's mouth gaped wide, but after the wire she pulled up on her own and quickly too. "Fuck," Brooks said, breath finally whooshing into his lungs. "What the hell Ripley? Why do all Touch Up spawn want to play chicken with the fence?" Ripley's face, pale as a ghost, turned away from the slowing filly. "Got me." Mal was laughing like a loon as True turned back. Wide eyed, both Ripley and Brooks appraised him as though he'd gone mad. "But did you see how fast she is? That is the real question!" "Fast is only good when playing by the rules," Brooks said through his teeth. Mal straightened, stifling the laughter, but his smile didn't dim. "Then play by the rules she will. But now I know she is spontaneous and I'll fix that by drilling her in the indoor ring. She'll turn so much that I'll have to teach her how to run straight again."
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