Laura and Brooks watched as Spotlight Pride and Casualty of War marched off the tracks. The chestnut and dark colts reared and bucked, looking as though they could go another round. Sultan looked furious enough to knock Pride down where he stood. The hulking two year old was becoming a handful and when he was pissed, very much hard to handle. Justin kept the colt in line as they passed through the gap by Sun King and Optimus. Sun King pawed the ground, flexed his neck muscles and bugled his irritation at Sultan and Pride. Pride danced away nervously, uneasy now that his second foalhood bully was so close. Optimus remained the electric bulwark between the trio, his eyes rolling with excitement and confusion. Laura felt like she was on top of a bulldog. Optimus' muscles coiled beneath her and threatened to punch in rebellion as King was forced into a trot onto the track. He was a hard to handle type and his ego was riding high after his latest impressive victory. He'd been a spring in his workout before that race, but today he felt like a rocket. If anything, Optimus was only getting stronger and with Mastermind and Forbidden To Fly retiring, he would be ready to step into the elite ranks of male sprinters. Sun King strutted onto the track, head high and tail waving like a bloody flag. He was ever the arrogant son of a gun and he knew that his prowess was unmatched. He had has much brawn as Casualty of War, but the intelligence was more quick and clever. King snorted furiously when Brooks turned him to face Ripley at the rail. The woman nodded in approval, set her hands on the rail. "Time to let him get his irritation out." Optimus slid onto the track, legs always seeming to be ahead of his compact frame. His ears pricked down the track, taking in its overwhelming emptiness. The bay son of Shiver Me Timbers looked tough beneath Laura with his muscles tense beneath his healthy hide. Laura patted the colt's neck, careful to keep it gentle enough so that he did not take it as a cue to run. When he didn't budge, Laura turned her attention to Ripley. "Three furlongs, do the quickest running in the stretch. Shouldn't be too tough for them. Just watch them on the turn. I don't want to see them injured. We know they can run fast." The riders nodded and turned their horses down the track. Neither colt had to be told twice to go for the instant moving air hit in the face, they were off. Optimus out-footed Sun King at first, his dark eyes blazing with wild excitement. Laura felt her breath catch in her lungs at the violent burst of speed. Optimus didn't get nearly enough respect for his speed or brilliance. The bay colt had taken advantage of the speed crashing and burning in the first leg of the Dirt Sprinter Crown. It hadn't been that he was just bloody faster than everyone else, had it? Laura had her own theories and they placed Optimus higher than other sprinters. He hadn't been as mature then, but he sure as hell was now. King galloped along beside Optimus, ears pricked in surprise. It was rare that he was ever second on the break, but his large stride easily caught him up to the bay colt. The chestnut horse rolled over the ground, a powerhouse beneath his silent rider. Brooks appreciated the impressiveness of the young animal. He'd grown incredibly over the course of his two year old season. He seemed more physically advanced and confident. There was just something special to this particular creature. He had the gifts of El Sol Del Mar's early speed with both of his parent's ability to carry it farther than most. The pair of horses strode through the backstretch at an impressive clip. Ripley was surprised to find that they moved in tandem for she'd expected Optimus to linger back. There was no speed to challenge King though and loose speed was deadly. Laura must have changed tactics. The bay colt bounded along, clipping off fractions with ease and confidence despite the heavy pressure to his outside. Laura had to admit she was content with Optimus tonight. He was just an awesome horse. He was the type that could brutalize you on the front end or run you down in the stretch. Today, he would keep pace with a horse that few had managed to beat this season. Sun King could have cared less what kind of horse ran to his inside. He knew he could beat them. He had the confidence of a proven winner. It made him dangerous. But Optimus was dangerous at the moment as well. The bay colt bounded through the turn, ears pinning back in absolute focus. Laura shook him up off the turn and into the stretch, grinning from ear to ear as the colt roared to life. She leaned into his neck, hiding from the whipping wind and the cold snow. Snow battered the colt's chest as he covered the distance with lengthening strides. Sun King ranged up to Optimus' outside, neck bowed tight at the restraint. He floated to the middle of the track, legs pumping mightily beneath his powerful frame. Brooks' hands shook from the effort. He cursed and let the horse go. In a flurry of movement, the big horse gunned by Optimus, throwing his rival off. The stout bay colt responded with a furious rally, stretching his legs as far as possible. He would never be able to match the ease of King, but he sure as hell could match him in speed. Laura clung to the wild black mane as the colt whistled up the rail to battle head to head with Sun King. The two year old looked surprised, but did not give up as he found himself in a war. Ripley was grinning as the colts hit the wire together, their hoofbeats keeping time with their snorting. Battle tested and battle proven were those two horses. She was delighted to see some honest quality moving up to the fill the ranks. Damn good quality.
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"Please note this rarity, King. We actually will have the track to ourselves. Such a thing never happens." Brooks was feeling very spirited on the cool winter morning. He couldn't hold the happiness back. He was going to be a daddy, a little sooner than he'd expected, but it was the right woman and the right time for them both. He patted King's neck, blue eyes sparkling when footsteps announced the arrival of said woman. He turned, a smile on his face, to acknowledge her even when the smile was not given back. Ripley Marsh was no morning person during her pregnancy. The slim woman was just beginning to show a small bump, a bump that she carefully managed so that it would not end her career until December. He knew she was banking on that bump staying small to make weight allowances for the Breeders' Cup. His eyes dimmed a little, but his spirit did not. Ripley was making all sorts of career sacrifices for him and their little one. She'd come to settle with it recently and was looking forward to meeting the little one. "Please note that this is indeed a rarity. Don't fill your egos up too much as I'm not taking responsibility for them popping." Brooks laughed and Sun King snorted in a timely fashion. A smirk touched Ripley's face and her eyes brightened up. She kissed Brooks' on the cheek before moving to King to go over his wraps and equipment. Sun King looked every inch the part of the magnificent two year old he was. He was a grade three horse, the first of this crop, and he had the talent for ten horses. It appeared he was following in big brother Mastermind's footsteps, though he was pretty solid at the ten furlong distance, something not even attempted by Mastermind. That stamina came from both of his parents, though the brilliant speed and tenacity came from his dam. Native Flame's chestnut son looked like his mirror image in frame and musculature. Sun King had the prowess and the looks to get attention on the track. He'd been a standout from the get-go and now he was heading into late season as one of the top dirt two year olds in the country. "Three races left and then we're heading for the Derby trail come Year Fifteen," Ripley stated as she tightened the girth. King flashed his teeth, but he didn't attempt to touch the trainer. He knew better. Manners were important at Witch Creek Stable. It caused thrills in both Ripley and Brooks to hear those words. Brooks would be riding his third Kentucky Derby horse, this one with the best prospects. Ripley would get her shot to see an El Sol Del Mar baby take to the track for the Kentucky Derby. Sunny had already produced one Derby winner in Eternal Phantom, but this time Ripley would be the trainer. This time it was more exciting. "We'll be competing against Saintly Touch and Casualty of War for that honor," Brooks stated after he'd mounted. Ripley led them from the barn, eyes forward. "Yes, it is quite the situation. I'll tell you to be aware of both of them. Reese has already got Saint eating from the palm of her hand and Sultan markedly improved in his first race over the dirt. Our competition will be more diverse than it has ever been next year." King danced beneath Brooks, muscles contracting and releasing beneath his ruby hide. He was a looker if there ever was one, a powerful beast who was only going to get more-so at the age of three. His mouth played over the bit, betraying his eagerness to get to work. He was a driven character this horse and that ambition would carry him far. "I want a solid five furlong workout from him. Nothing too fast Brooks, just enough to sharpen him up for his return." Brooks nodded and turned the colt loose into a jog and then a canter just before the first turn. The colt moved fluidly beneath him, legs eating up the loamy earth, and looked every inch the powerhouse his sire once was. Ripley leaned on the rail, eyes glued to the colt as he stepped up the pace into the backstretch. Sun King was strong on the bit, keeping the reins taunt. He was a lot like his dam. Absolutely the most focused of her offspring and intense. His athleticism was expressed in every move he made and he was easily one of the best horses Brooks had ever ridden. The colt gave Brooks chills as he cruised through the first couple furlongs of his workout without much effort. Sun King had a presence like no other and he was pressing for more rein with every stride. Brooks leaned close to the colt, letting the red mane whip him in the face as the pace increased. The colt switched leads on command, dashed into the far turn with verve. Brooks let out a breath as they cut the turn and bolted into the stretch. Ripley started the stop watch as the colt unfurled his massive strides and rolled down the stretch. "Boy, you are impressive," she crooned. The chestnut colt powered through the stretch, dark eyes blazing. He grew faster with every stride and hit the wire in :23 seconds flat for the final half. His time was impressive, but not nearly as nice as his gallop out. His opponents were going to have to give it all they had to beat him next time. Ripley could hardly wait. "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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