Ripley eyed the collection of riders in the barn with careful eyes. A lot of shifting was to be done in this workout. She was usually the rider for both Mastermind and Saintly Touch, but with both of them in the workout, she could only be rider for one. Mastermind, the gleaming chestnut sculpture, would be her choice. He'd always been her choice. He was the perfect career ender and had been her only option from day one. Reese lingered alongside Saintly Touch, her brown eyes sweeping over his tough, masculine form. The Night Stalker colt looked like a replica of his sire, except for the bit of brown on the inside of his legs and on his muzzle. He had a tapered head, a powerful body and a chest the size of Texas. Saint was an excellent looking two year old and he had developed into a consistent racer, known for his ferocious desire on the track. Reese would be his regular rider in next year's races when Ripley retired from being a jockey to a trainer. Her baby would be born sometime in April, just when the Triple Crown preps were becoming more serious. Reese checked the girth and bridle before moving to her usual mount. Supernatural glistened in good health, the light brown dots danced on a backdrop of snow white. The flea-bitten gray had never looked so perfect. Reese would have a reunion with the admirable filly in The Wire Red Mile. Until then, she would be in the capable hands of Brookson Wells. Brooks tightened the strap beneath his chin, eyes never leaving the filly. He had not ridden Siri ever before and knew she could be a tricky filly in the best of circumstances. Prone to paying more attention to the grand stands than her job, Siri needed a rider who could keep her focused. He'd been Reese's choice for this workout and he intended to do his best. He patted the filly's nose, smiled when she swept her dark brown eyes over him. She was definitely assessing him and that could mean anything. "No foolishness please. The sooner we get this done, the better." "Oh stop it, Wells. Be a man. You can't let every petite girl intimidate you like that." Reese grinned when Brooks shot her a look. "Trust me, I know you're waiting hand and foot on our boss. And she doesn't even like it." Ripley cocked a brow at them as she stepped out of her office. Their embarrassed faces told her everything that she didn't want to know. "I'll pretend you weren't just discussing me and just give you direction, per usual." Ripley smiled at Kendall who was standing patiently alongside Mastermind. The chestnut stallion nickered at Ripley, wriggled his lips down her arm in greeting. She rubbed his white star and smiled. "Three-quarter mile gallop, three furlong breeze for me. For Saint, half mile gallop, five furlong breeze. For Siri, half mile gallop, four furlong workout." Brooks and Reese narrowed their eyes. "I'll break off last when you head into your workouts. I want to give Mastermind a target for a change. Haven't got into a situation where he's broken badly, but you can't be prepared enough. So Saint will break off first and then Siri and then I. Work Saint through the wire, Reese. Time to give him some confidence." The riders exited the barn, quickly mounted up and let the horses head down to the track. Siri pranced beneath Brooks with a ton of energy. She gave the impression that she was absolutely bottomless. She practically was. Who ever heard of a miler being able to run twelve furlongs competitively? Only a couple horses such as Bella Luna and Frozen Motion had existed like that with Witch Creek. The rest were specialists and really gave horses like Siri a boost. Saint strode down the path, ears pricked on the track and eye bright. Reese had fallen in love with the two year old colt long before she'd ever sat on him. He had a personality similar to hers in that he was a loner and often moody. He was misunderstood and had sweetish tendencies, but most of the time he knew exactly what he wanted. He'd been stuck in a rut for sometime and it was time to shake him out of it. Mastermind followed behind the uppity horses, head carried high as though he were taking in his world. He'd become the professed king of the property and possibly was one of the most renowned older males in racing. Mastermind had reached a level that Ripley had never thought would be achievable. He'd outdone his sire and his dam and set a bar that would likely never be touched again. Ripley loved the horse dearly and found herself just a bit sad that there were only two months left to both of their history making careers. Saintly Touch lit into a strong gallop after a bit of jogging. He pulled hard on the bit before settling into stride. Reese loved the power this colt packed. He was definitely going to turn into a nice three year old. He'd been a good two year old so far, but something told her that Saint was taking a journey separate from Hourglass. Everyone had expected the colt to follow in his half-sibling's and dam's footsteps, but his racing lines suggested he was going to bloom beyond the age of two. His gallops and workouts also vouched for the idea. Supernatural trembled like a flame beneath Brooks when the near-black colt ran off with Reese. The flea-bitten gray filly chomped at the bit, tossing her head manically. Brooks let the reins go a little, grunted when she dipped her head and did her best to buck. He heard Ripley snort from the inside as she passed him aboard Mastermind. Obviously Siri was spoiled with leadership tasks. He allowed the filly to speed by, but did not allow her to engage with Saintly Touch. The seal brown was on cruise control and there was no way he was messing with Ripley's plots. Mastermind galloped easily behind, ears pricked on the horses ahead. He was a very malleable horse and she should have expected him to take this easily in stride. She patted his neck as they rounded into the backstretch and prepared for her directions to be executed. Mastermind was more than willing to be her accomplice in the mayhem. Saintly Touch rolled as soon as Reese hit the button. The tough son of Night Stalker pinned his ears and really leaped into his task. He seemed to stretch out immediately, taking full advantage of the release. Reese was careful to not let the reins soar completely out of her grasp. She needed to have the work steady as possible because at some point Siri and Mastermind would run up to him and he'd have to "put them away." Brooks let out a sigh of relief when he held a match to the stick of dynamite. Supernatural broke off like a rocket, long legs flying beneath her lean body as she pursued Saintly Touch. The gray filly was more than on the muscle after having time off and this workout was exactly what she needed. The filly smartly checked up on the turn, ducked to the inside rail and cut time in half. Brooks had to admit he was fairly impressed. She was a smart runner that was more than clear. Reese peaked under her arm when Supernatural rumbled up in the stretch. Her chocolate eyes were full of love for the run and it definitely appeared as though she was full of herself. Reese felt her colt brace against the sudden onslaught and knew she'd have to give him some encouragement to stave off this charge. Mastermind had been steadily reeling in his opponents at the beginning of the turn. He hit top gear at the top of the stretch and flew down the track, mane and tail billowing out behind him like flame. His long strides ate the ground up magnificently cutting the pair's lead down to two lengths mid-stretch. The riders up ahead were locked in a pitched battle, but weren't paying any attention to the fireball gunning for them. Ripley switched the lean stallion to the outside of Siri and sent her comet for the hills. Brooks was startled when Mastermind suddenly appeared on his right, ears pinned and eyes full of determination. Supernatural swerved out in his direction, would have collided if not for Brooks' reinsmanship. Saintly Touch, excited by the sudden loss of pressure picked up the pace, charged through the wire and kept on going with pressure from Reese. The seal brown colt looked surprised, but he dove headfirst into the work and blew out the final furlong. Reese was smiling when she pulled the colt up, trembling with excitement. He'd just done a tough workout and the colt had finished better than he'd started. Ripley and Brooks had Mastermind and Supernatural pulled up to a jog when Reese turned back with Saint. The chestnut and gray were hardly puffing, fit as they possibly could be for their tall tasks in the sprint and mile series. Ripley nodded in approval when Reese joined them. "That was a very good workout for him. You'll probably be on him from here on out in his workouts. Hope you enjoyed that because that's only just the beginning of what he has to give you."
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Liquid dark eyes spared back at Brookson Wells from between the bridle. Determination, intelligence, class, brilliance all co-mingled in the gaze and seemed to bore the blond haired man. He wouldn't have applied these traits to this particular animal at one point, but ever since his return from break... things had changed. Optimus Unstoppable, the adept son of Shiver Me Timbers and Train Wreck, had been breaking the stall walls down within three weeks. He'd had enough of vacation and had become more of a hazard to himself than anyone. He'd been stuck back in training and was more en pointe than he had been at any time this year. Brooks was eager to get back in the saddle and gun the stout colt down the stretch at Green Horse Fields. His grade three win was beckoning him. Hopefully, they would notch it. Ripley could feel the excitement in the air as Brooks pulled Optimus out of the barn and joined herself and Laura Decomte. The auburn haired woman sat astride her coy seal-brown colt and felt like an army general. Saintly Touch was developing a commanding attitude, one that was bound to be noticed on the track. He'd grown some over the course of the season and looked more like his sire, Night Stalker, than any Night Stalker prodigy Witch Creek had housed before. Vana's baleful gaze swept over the two colts without much interest. She wasn't as excitable or exhilarating to look at as they were, but she could hold her own on the track. She was almost grade three and was a typical DeComte mount, Laura thought. An underdog rising to the highest ranks, faster than the blue bloods. Of course, the exception was Sun King, but he was virtually Vana's mirror on the colt side of things. The blaze marked filly flicked her tail as the colts marched by, ears flicking as if she wasn't keen on joining them. A nudge had her moving forward, letting out a sigh of discontent. The trio stepped onto the track with Optimus in the lead. The blocky colt was a speed freak in his workout assignments but come race day, Brooks knew exactly when to snatch him up. Optimus could be turned from front runner to closer in a matter of seconds. He was an awfully handy sprinting horse to have around. Brooks allowed the colt to step out into a lope and then a gallop, keeping pace as much as he could with Ripley. Saint skipped over the course, mane and tail flying as he galloped. He was a rock solid horse, tough as nails with a grinder's style. He had this way that just instilled confidence in the onlooker and one could make an argument that he was the third best dirt colt in the country. The two above him, Great Revenge and Sun King, were precocious, but did they have what it takes to last through a grueling three year old season. Ripley knew the son of Devil's Touch had it in him. He was a champion at heart and he would prove it to everyone within the next couple of seasons. Nirvana settled in behind the two colts, ears bobbing above her head. She wasn't a filly for sprinting ahead with the colts. She preferred to stalk, settle and catch the kill when it had already depleted itself of much needed energy. Laura kept her hands at the filly's withers, eyes glued to Optimus. When Brooks told that speed crazy son of a gun to go, he would go. And that would be when it was time to pick it up. Saint could fool you into thinking he was doing :24 when he was actually doing :22. Optimus was coasting down the backstretch, moving powerfully. Brooks was immensely impressed with what he felt under him, glanced under his arm to check for Saint. The seal-brown colt loomed at Optimus' hip, but was just an ominous presence. He was Optimus' shadow while Nirvana stalked five lengths back. Optimus would have to be absolutely tough to nail down a win in the workout today. Ripley was also liking what she felt under her. Saint was literally and figuratively a dark horse. He was not the big standout at first, but he had a presence unlike any other. Ripley lifted her hands up his neck as they moved into the six furlong breeze and the near black colt drew up to Optimus' barrel. Laura took her previous thought about Saint back. She'd saw the signs and let Vana go, smiling when Optimus leaped into action a second later. "Let's make those boys meat." Optimus bolted into the far turn, hooves pushing off the ground with exuberance. He enjoyed the run, thrilled at it. He hadn't thrown Saint off by any means for the near black was at his throat latch and gaining. For all of these horses, light bulbs had come on in the final half of the season. Saint's dished head drew even with Optimus, surprising both Brooks and Ripley at his agility on the turn. Ripley snuck a pat, kept her gaze ahead for all the thrills. Nirvana roared off the far turn in all out pursuit, snorting with every leaping stride. Laura was absolutely stunned breathless by the turn of foot she had just experienced. The bay filly had practically swallowed the existing space between her body and the colts' in a second. Laura sent the stocky horse down the center of the track, eyes gleeful. Saint pulled to the lead when Vana rocketed up to his outside. He'd been caught off guard to say the least, but he'd rebounded beautifully. Optimus was no longer a threat. He was a trier, but this six furlong on top of the gallop was not his exact cup of tea. Brooks was impressed still when the bay colt was only beaten a length by the long distance dirt horses. He may not be stayer of the year, but he sure was game as hell. Saint'd held off the flying chase of Vana, but he continued marching along impressively through the gallop out. He'd had enough of close finishes and didn't see how just barely winning was fun. The blaze faced filly had given him a good scare. She was multiple-graded stakes winner and at this point more precocious. He'd learned never to underestimate a challenger, no matter where they came from in the herd. "It is possible that we have the best two dirt colts, outside of Great Revenge, in the country," Brooks remarked as he tacked Sun King up for the day's workout. The chestnut stallion shown like a ruby diamond beneath his rough hands. The Native Flame and El Sol Del Mar colt truly was a gem. He was not brilliant like his older brother. Instead, the colt was described as monstrous. He was large and he was tough. He was a fierce competitor and the kind of horse that had enough talent to last years and still improve. Brooks adored Sun King. There was just something about the muscular colt that called his name. Perhaps, the unmarked creature, reminded him of Red Herring. Ripley patted Saint's neck as she stood from wrapping his legs in bandages. Saint was a glorious looking animal. Not as muscular as Sun King or as regal in the head. He had the head of a prehistoric colt, straight and broad. He had an honest look to him and he was an honest horse. Saint had his moments of bully attitude, but you had plenty of warning. He was a stubborn horse and he let you know when he was displeased. He was also one of the most courageous. He had the kind of nature that just pulled Ripley in. He reminded her of Cross and his half-sibling Hourglass. She had the same kind of never-surrender attitude as the near black colt. Saint would bull his way through holes that didn't exist, would just keep coming despite impossible odds and manage to win. He wasn't flashy, but he got the job done. Saint used himself harder than Sun King. His durability would increase with age and time. King had the naturally fast and natural lasting power from his dam. Saint needed a little rest to be nearly as effective. Times were changing though. Saint had grown a bit since his last start. He was larger in the shoulder and butt muscles. He had dapples and looked in good health. Sun King had faced Saint before in a workout, but this was a newer version. And improved one. "Could be, Brooks," Ripley said as she mounted. "But we still have to beat Great Revenge to get top colt honors. So time to get to work or we'll never achieve that goal." Brooks nodded, grinned when he'd settled into the saddle. King moved into his powerful work, flicking his tail in Saint's face as he passed. "No one's made you King of the Hill quite yet, chief." Saint bared his teeth behind King's back, not daring to bite with Ripley on his back. Sometimes the chestnut colt just made him livid. The near-black horse pranced beneath her, neck bowed and legs cocked in perfect dressage tradition. Saint was definitely a hotter horse these days. Perhaps that would equal more flying speed. The chestnut King led the way onto the track, prancing vivaciously until Brooks released him. With a flurry of movement, the son of Native Flame bolted into a gallop, snorting and bucking as he went. Brooks chuckled after he caught his seat, leaning close to the energetic creature. King was on his game, moreso than ever before. The blond man let the reins soar through his gloved fingers until the colt had reached the chosen speed. Less keen on bolting away, Saint strode into his fluid gallop, tossing his savage head into the air and looking every inch the Night Stalker baby. Ripley rested her hands at the colt's withers as he rumbled over the track, eyes blazing with joy. She'd have to give this up soon enough. Her career was coming to a close for a year after December. She'd miss it greatly, miss being apart of this dashingly handsome animal's journey. Sadness tinged her for a moment, but only until Saint put on a burst of speed and rounded up on King's outside. The pair powered through the first furlongs impressively, eyes lighting up with competitiveness. King loomed over Saint, but not as much as before. The near-black colt was full of inner rage. He was tired of losing and he equaled the black with his nemesis Great Revenge. Usually a mid-pack horse, the Night Stalker colt was bull-headed about running head and head with King. King, used to being dogged, gave it right back, with a fury that only came with his own frustrations. Ripley and Brooks sat still as stones in the saddle, inwardly impressed with both colts' performances so far. King still held the advantage by a neck as he rolled into the homestretch, but Saint was relentless in his rally. The near black colt hit another gear upon switching his leads, almost overwhelming King. A nose in front, then a neck, but it didn't last. Brooks felt the eruption beneath him and grinned. King launched forward, digging in with a monstrous effort. Saint retaliated and would not give in, would not wave the white flag. The pair stormed across the wire, head and head in a tremendous display of stamina and speed. Both riders stood in their stirrups after the finish, blazing smiles overtaking their faces. Great Revenge was the big horse from now, but King and Saint could only improve from here. July Week Threespeed, speed and more speed"We seem a bit like the underdog in this one, Vana," Laura murmured as she adjusted the bridle on Nirvana's head. The Gold Storm filly was standing quietly in her stall, wise eyes staring straight into Laura's blue ones. The filly was an odd sort of horse. She was calm, quiet, collected, but on the track she could be downright fierce. She was one of the most impressive closing fillies on the racing circuit with enough heart for three horses. She just couldn't connect with the wire first. Laura adored Nirvana with all of her heart, feeling as though this filly was cruising under the radar. A snort drew Laura's gaze out of the box stall to the chestnut horse between the cross-ties. An answering snort and stomp sounded down the row. Oh yes, compared to the colts at Witch Creek Stable, particularly these colts, Nirvana was definitely the underdog. Sun King and Saintly Touch were both winners of four races, but they were demanding of their audience and competition. Sun King had recently been termed a monster and Saintly Touch had simply been beautiful in every race he ran. It was going to be a crash course for Nirvana, but Laura knew the thick filly was up to it. Sun King's eyes blazed into Brooks' as he pulled on his helmet. Energy coursed through the man's body and left him bristling. This colt was something else. He was tough and fierce, physically fit and thick. He just had this arrogance and ferocity that was different than anything Brooks had ridden before. King knew how impressive he was and he never missed a chance to flaunt it. The colt switched his tail over his haunches, stomping his hooves in impatience. He was tired of standing around. Ripley pulled her gloves on, green eyes flicking over Saintly Touch's body. His body was nicely dappled out, his muscle showing beneath glossy hide, and his one seeing eye gleamed softly. Saint was not King in terms of temperament, but what lurked underneath the colt's glossy good manners was a demon wanting to be freed. She stepped up the colt, running a hand down his shoulder, smiling when he nuzzled her arm. He was growing more affectionate every day. "We'll go six furlongs workout. Only a half-mile gallop lead up. If they were to gallop out powerfully, let them. It's time to get serious." Brooks laughed at Ripley as he led King by. "Yeah, all of that stuff before was just play." Laura cocked a brow at the pair, feeling like a third wheel. "They may not notice us now, Vana, but they will." Vana snorted, standing still as Laura mounted up in the barn. The blaze faced filly stared after the colts as they left the barn, ears pricked and eyes bright. She stood still though, a partner to Laura, and waited until her cue was given. The stout filly strode out of the barn, only moving into a trot when asked. King and Saint burst onto the track before Vana was halfway down the path. Neither colt was a fan of the other so ears pinned and eyes blazed in fury when they were together between the gap. The horses looked like compete opposites, light vs dark, but their attitudes became similar in the wide open space. Sun King flashed his teeth. Saint flashed his flint-like hooves. The colts broke into barely controlled canters up the track, kicking up dirt in their wake. Ripley and Brooks were completely still on the colts, peering backward to make sure that Vana was following. The blaze faced filly slammed into gear the minute Laura dropped her to the rail. Her mahogany colt glinted in the early morning light as she burst through the crowd of birds gathered in a puddle. The birds flew off with insulted squawks, but Vana didn't pay them any mind. Her attention was drawn to the flying seal brown and chestnut colts. The reins were taunt in Laura's hand and the rider was impressed. Usually the two year old wasn't into the bridle this early. She might have been intelligent enough to understand what Ripley had spoken. Laura slipped her gloved hand down to pat her neck, beyond amused and ready for the stretch run. Sun King blazed through the backstretch, head high and tail in the air. He was an absolute powerhouse in full flight, his muscles really showed beneath his glistening golden hide. To Brooks, this horse looked beyond wonderful even from on his back. It was a testament to Saintly Touch's talent that he was hanging at Sun King's hip. The woman aboard the near black colt was thinking it was more than just talent. Saintly Touch had grit and courage. He was a grinder and more than a handful for the chestnut Native Flame colt. Saint's left eye was filling gradually with fury after every passing furlong pole. He wasn't making his move just yet, but he would not allow this bigger colt to get away with murder. Pressure was key and Saint knew how to apply just the right amount of pressure. The Night Stalker colt loomed at King's shoulder as swept into the turn. He made the executive decision to push King right down to the rail, his heavier muscle making its first appearance on the track. It was funny that he pulled the same trick as The Devil's Touch and The Devil's Hourglass. A family trait that was beyond useful. Laura and Vana watched the chess game playing out in front with intense eyes. Vana had been long since warmed up and now she was really pulling Laura into the turn. It was time to let her go. Throwing the reins at Vana's neck, Laura released her stout filly on the big boys, grinning when she blazed trail in the four path off the turn. A crowd had gathered at the rail to watch and everyone pointed in near unison at the ballsy move of Nirvana. The bay filly roared down the stretch, body stretched to her greatest advantage. She bore down on the boys, switching easily over Saintly Touch's heels. Sun King pinned his ears at the sight of the filly on the far outside, furious that he was being pushed so recklessly. Brooks was shaking his head in defeat, but he stopped when he realized his chestnut colt was responding to the dual challenges. Saintly Touch could not see Nirvana, but he certainly could feel her. Ripley did not stop breathing when King and Vana pinned her seal brown colt in between them. All three hides touched, but Saint did not become intimidated. Instead he bullied his way through the pinch, fighting fiercely. The two others went with him in a desperate rush to at least finish in a tie if they couldn't get a win. The trio landed on the wire together, barely separated by any physical part of the body. The riders let out excited hoots and high-fived as their horses continued to truck into the first turn again. A perfect workout for what promised to be an impressive second half of the season. simply superiorReese had looked at the white board this morning in surprise and unease when she saw the second workout pairing of the day. Supernatural, Reese's beautiful filly, would be taking on none other than the nearly unbeatable Mastermind. Reese could only question Ripley's reasoning with this one. She adored Supernatural, but never in her wildest dreams did she think the gray compared to Mastermind, Ripley's protege. The Speed Demon stallion was sensational this year and he had always been, but he was more sensational than in his previous years. Reese called Siri her 'Steady Eddie.' The Dylan Himself filly could be brilliant and gutsy, but she did not possess the wow factor. If the gray filly won it was because of her grit and determination not because she was infinitely more talented than the rest. Reese patted the gray nosed filly, smiling into chocolate-colored eyes. Siri was a traditional dirt horse and she was a consistent one at that. She only ranked third in the three year old fillies division behind Battle Wings and Reflected In Water. Her ranking had been hard fought against the boys for the majority of Year Fourteen. She was back against those same males in the Easy Goer Red Mile and this time she was joined by Battle Wings. Reese looked forward to the race. If Ripley believed a workout with Mastermind would set Siri up for a rousing victory, by God, Reese would send her gray against the hulk every day of the week. Ripley patted 'The Hulk' after she tightened the girth one last notch. The elegant chestnut stallion quivered with excitement, flashing an affectionate glance in Ripley's direction. Their partnership had been smooth from the get-go and it seemed the only place to go was up. The gleaming horse paraded out of the barn, head high, whinnying as he emerged from the barn. Several heads picked up in the pasture, ears pricked in Mastermind's direction. Ripley smirked, patted the horse and jumped onto his back. The horse pranced briefly, but his attention soon diverted to Supernatural. Reese was already mounted, letting the reins swing down around Siri's neck. The filly strode by Mastermind as though he weren't even there. She had purpose and was acting on it. She was a grinder type filly, but she worked as hard as possible for every victory. Reese liked how Supernatural had turned out, appreciated the dirt filly's honesty. Most horses weren't nearly as honest. Mastermind stalked after Supernatural, ears pricked on her lean form. She was a competitor and he was assessing her. His ears flicked back when Ripley jerked the bit in his mouth. He'd been pulling heavily to stay within range of Supernatural. Siri always bolted the minute she hit the gap and Mastermind would not be bolting with her. Ripley's green eyes flashed when Mastermind defied her momentarily, reminding her that she needed to ask not demand. Demanding got nowhere with this marvelous Speed Demon stallion Reese leaned forward just as Siri expectantly darted forward. Her feet slammed into the dirt fiercely, ears slamming against her neck. It was all for show. Siri was not a serious runner at first, She waited and waited until it was time for the homestretch. That was part of the problem. If she didn't focus immediately on this certain task, Mastermind would leave her six feet below the ground. Reese glanced under her arm, smiling when Mastermind blew by. The chestnut horse was on a mission. He'd obviously sized up the competition and agreed with Ripley's plan of attack. Ripley would never get over this horse. He was her big one, bigger than his dam, though she had more of Ripley's heart. He'd been her partner for the last two and a half years and she would not fail him. The same thing went for the legendary horse. He was indeed becoming legendary on the track. There was no doubt in Ripley's mind that he could join El Sol Del Mar in the Hall of Fame one day. It would be the icing on the cake for her star horse's career. He had nothing left to prove. Everything here on out was for fun and the horse's enjoyment. Reese could tell Mastermind was playing with Siri despite his fast pace. He was a brutal runner and he definitely would not take any prisoners. Her was merciless and spared no feelings. Siri, who normally had her ears up and playing at this point, was far more interested than usual. She'd never faced an opponent who had given her no leeway. Her ears were pinned against her neck and her dark eyes were flashing with irritation. Her pace was strong and her stride long. She was fluid as ever, but her intensity was as thick as the humid summer air. Reese kept the reins loose despite the change. Siri was in the bridle and ready to roll when called upon. Mastermind cruised over the dirt course, muscling his way forward with power. The star-marked stallion was taking the six furlong workout very seriously. Ripley's hands would have been burning if she wasn't wearing gloves. He was just that strong today. His next start in the Penn National Derby would not come soon enough. Reese shook the reins at Siri the minute Mastermind took a step into the far turn. This is where the horse threw off his competition like bugs. Siri responded, throwing her body into the movement and nearly tearing the reins through Reese's fingers. Her sleek gray form streaked over the course, cutting the turn precisely and making up two lengths on Mastermind. The Dylan Himself filly wheeled off the far turn, ears pinned and body tense. Reese was impressed with what the filly was showing her. She was showing her drive and competitive fire. Ripley did not have to glance under her arm to know Siri was breathing down Mastermind's neck. The gray filly was rounding back into form and she'd grown tired of being the bridesmaid in every race. Ripley urged Mastermind on with slight nudging, grinning when he responded with another gear. Siri was a thorough grinder though and Mastermind could not shake her loose. Reese mildly urged the filly on with her body movement and chirps, smiling when Siri reached Mastermind's neck. The two horses rolled through the wire with Mastermind being the clear winner. Reese was laughing like a loon by the time they pulled up. Siri had pulled a beautiful workout out of her hat and she was ready to take on the best of her generation, fillies or colts. Ripley could only think that Mastermind was the best of his generation. She stroked the horse's satiny neck, dreaming of what was still to come. |
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