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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"Round Three coming up," Reese called as she tightened the girth. A grumbling assent came from Ripley who was wrapping polos on Mastermind's legs. "Maybe we finally get the better of you, Marsh." Ripley laughed as she stood, turning her sharp gaze to the flea-bitten gray. "You can try, but, unless she's a disguise for Forbidden To Fly, you aren't going to." Reese shook her head, trying to hide her smile. Sometimes her and Ripley got along. Most of the time they didn't... at least on a personal level. Many of Ripley's professional training calls fell right in line with Reese's own beliefs. There were very few times Reese had disagreed with the auburn-haired woman. "So what do you think decides who wins Sprinter of the Year?" "Honestly, I think the voters will. It's like both Fly and Mastermind go to separate Breeders' Cup races. Mastermind simply runs best at a mile and Fly simply runs best at less than that. Unfortunately, most of the mile races are over so we're in his house." A wave of frustration swept through Ripley's body. She was tired of getting beaten by Stride Of Perfection Stables and their meddling gray sprinter. She wanted that horse to step into the ring and take on Mastermind at distances longer than seven furlongs. It had happened very few times this season and Mastermind simply could not beat the animal at shorter distances. Reese felt a similar frustration toward Anodyne. Only it wasn't just Siri that was getting beaten by the bay Intrepid colt. It had been In Front too. The handsome bay colt had run a hard season in Year Fourteen and was now being freshened for an older horse campaign. It wasn't fair to run him into the ground and hope he didn't start tailing off of top placings. He didn't deserve that. He was too good a horse to waste time chasing more precocious three year old colts. Reese shook herself. Who was she? Justin, Brooks? Did any of the three beings have anything to do with today's workout? NO. The South American woman lead the lean gray filly from the barn, appreciating the pep with which Supernatural moved. She had turned around quite nicely after being backed to the shorter distances. She'd been taken out of her element in the eleven furlong Consumato Derby, but now she was back within her preferred range. The Risorgimento Derby was beckoning her with a very promising prize if she won. Siri would be the first horse of Witch Creek's to defeat Anodyne. That was more than worth a trip over the classic distance of ten furlongs. "We're going to stalk Anodyne until we can stalk him no more. Then we'll pounce, darling," Reese crooned as she mounted Siri. The gray filly dipped her head, mouthing the bit as she took in the sight of her familiar foe. She seemed to be thinking, him again? Mastermind gleamed in all of his copper glory, head turned away from his workmate toward the dirt track. His ears were pricked and his eyes were very bright. He looked as content as a horse could be. He was a brilliant horse, the only horse to be able to capture The King's Bishop twice. He'd done it as a three year old and had gutsilly done it as a four year old. Twenty eight victories was nothing to sneeze at, especially when he'd only run for two and three quarter seasons. Ripley was so ridiculously proud of her mount, so impressed with the way he had grown up. Never had he once been a disappointment. He'd had a rough go of it in the beginning of his three year old season, but he'd more than made up for it as an older horse. His next start in the My Trusty Cat Stakes would be a stepping stone to his final goal: The Breeders' Cup Dirt Mile. The Breeders' Cup would be a fabulous culmination to an outstanding and otherworldly career. Ripley hoped the swell animal received his praise and accolades, but for now it was one race at a time. The pair of horses strode down the track, muscles pumping beneath shimmering hides. The early morning light welcomed the thoroughbreds into the chaotic world of Witch Creek at 6 A.M. Uno Momento and Awestruck galloped heartily down the center of the track, really getting into the exercise. Casualty of War and Vagabond were pulling up along the rail, snorting fog out of their nostrils. Malcolm walked the newbies Miss Josephine and Queen's Honesty just outside of the rail, showing them the way Witch Creek worked. Ripley could absolutely say she had died and gone to heaven looking at the magnificent horseflesh on the track. And this was only the dirt guys. Mastermind broke into a gallop first, more than on the muscle after a week break. The chestnut horse moved mightily over the dirt, ears pricked and eyes bright. He was a happy soul and one of the most willing creatures to work. Ripley kept a light hold on the bit, reminding him ever so often that she was still present. "Four furlong breeze. Aim for :50. Lots of time to get speedy come race day. Want them fresh, not exhausted." Siri disagreed heartily with the last statement, flinging her head high and throwing a fit at the restraint. Used to being allowed to fly, Siri rejected the idea of controlled speed. She dogged Mastermind through the first portion of the work, ears pinned and mouth agape. Ever the pro, Mastermind simply flicked his ears at her and failed to go on. Squealing like a yearling, Siri attempted to bully Mastermind, pushing the chestnut toward the rail with impressive force. Reese yanked the right rein, pulling the Dylan Himself filly off of Mastermind. Ripley gritted her teeth when Siri drew off of Mastermind. She was a pest. A fleet-minded runner if there ever was one. When she was on, she was dead on. It appeared her focus was only dedicated to racing in actual races. Reese scrubbed on the gray mare on the far turn, shaking her head when the horse easily switched her leads. She was a fleet-minded animal with the smoothest action of a true runner. The Dylan Himself filly pulled on Mastermind then. The gallant chestnut horse was loping easily as though this were a walk in the park. Ripley flung herself forward into the homestretch, signaling to the Speed Demon horse that it was game time. He hurled away, kicking up massive clumps of dirt in his wake. Supernatural flew up to him, gangly legs spreading out beneath her with grace. She was a nice filly to watch because of her ground eating stride. She was tough and beautiful in motion. The filly and stallion rolled down the stretch, full of confidence and energy. Ripley slapped Mastermind's neck as he danced beneath the line. "Very good, big man." Siri skirted around the older horse, eyes glowing brilliantly. She was more than ready for the Risorgimento Derby. Her mind-set was going to be completely different come race day. Reese could hardly wait to let her fly. The loud grinding noise of the tractors filled the air at the stable. The stallions high tailed it around the pastures, ears pinned and mouths agape, warning the mechanical threat away with challenging neighs. It wasn't every day that the tractor made its appearance on the dirt tracks. It was quite obvious with the horses' reactions to it. The track had to be tilled every so often otherwise it became a speedway of sorts. Times got quicker, horses got faster and injuries were more likely to occur. Most of Witch Creek's stock was known to be hardy, something Ripley was thankful for come end of the season. The auburn haired woman watched the tractors pass through the gap, away from the furious Touch Up. The hulking stallion looked furious and looked beyond satisfied when the machines hummed away. He tossed his head as if saying, "that's what I thought" and trotted off, tail in the air. Ripley chuckled at the handsome older horse, but her attention was drawn to the pastures south of the stud fields. The yearlings had been split up of fillies and colt. The separated fillies paced the fence mercilessly led by Enrapture and followed by Sweet Mimosa, Lady Timeah, Swing Dancer, Artemis and Awestruck. It was quite a little band, but even smaller was the solo form of Uno Momento. The handsome colt dashed along the fence, screaming up a storm for his fillies. The geldings Sin, Cold Mountain and Jabberwock watched the bay with interest, but none made a move to comfort him. Ripley smirked. He would settle in with the older horses not too long from now. Just like weaning, only much less traumatizing and noisy. "Hasn't quite taken the hint yet, has he?" Brooks said as he rode up on Optimus Unstoppable. The perky little bay danced on his toes, nostrils flaring in and out as he analyzed the track. He'd noticed a difference. Horses were extremely observational creatures and the slightest changes could set them off. Ripley patted the colt's bullish neck, forcing herself to relax. "Oh no, not yet. But he will. He hasn't got a choice." She turned her gaze briefly back to the group, "Though it would be a hell of a lot easier if Ennie would lead her herd away." "She's not going to do that, Rips. She's too much like The Devil. Got that same high and mighty attitude." Ripley shook her head in denial, though a part of her agreed. She was very much like the rotund retired racehorse and broodmare. "Reese, don't even say that. If you'd been around when she was racing, you'd know she was far worse." The jockeys laughed, stroking their easier mounts. Supernatural danced beneath Reese, brown eyes glittering with intelligence and eagerness. The gray filly was full of herself. She needed a good run to open her lungs and relax. Her next start in the Red Mile Series was coming up and all of the competition was targeting her. Reese eased the filly onto the dirt track, pointedly stiffening her seat. If Optimus was wary of the tilled course, God knew what Siri would think of it. Brooks let the bay step onto the track after the taller, leaner filly. Optimus snorted, arching his neck and whisking his tail over his haunches. He was a show off, a bull dog and a fighter. Allouette Divine had gotten the best of him in the Red Wine Sprint, but that was not about to happen again. He was as on his game as ever and his gallops had only gotten better since the defeat. "Four furlong breeze after a mile gallop. Don't go too fast, pl-" Ripley crossed her arms as the last of her words were cut off by pounding hoofbeats. "Damn it." The little bay freight train set out at full speed down the track, ears pinned into his mane. Supernatural tagged along briefly at his throat latch before settling into her confident long stride a length behind. The gray mare was a swift son of a gun, but she was no sprinter. Her calling was at a mile or farther though recently, she had become quite good at a mile. Reese smiled as Siri cruised along at her easy gait, counting the beats as they hit the fresh track. It was like riding in an Audi. Luxury with a hint of danger. Optimus was like the highest trim of corvettes. He trucked through the backstretch at an impressive pace. Brooks tugged gently on the reins, shaking his head when the colt slackened his speed slightly. He was disagreeable today. Brooks chalked it up to the change in his surroundings. Edginess usually got the better of sprinters, especially hot ones like Optimus. The short colt cut the turn brilliantly into the homestretch and only gave himself a breath as he rolled into the first turn. Brooks could feel the colt losing interest in the work due to the flying effort from before. However, the colt had signed his sentence. Now he had to deal with it. The gray filly tracked the little bay ominously up the backstretch. Reese knew Brooks would have thought "ominously" if he'd seen the way the Dylan Himself filly was moving. Her ears were glued to Optimus' short coupled frame and her eyes were growing increasingly more intense. The pressure on the bit became heavier and heavier now as they passed through the middle of the backstretch. It was time to go in three, two, one... "Shit," Brooks muttered. He'd heard the warning hooves, didn't bother to turn for he knew what he'd find. Optimus pinned his ears as Supernatural swarmed up on his right side. The bay colt floated the gray filly out, breaking her momentum just slightly. Her ears pinned in reaction and suddenly Siri was on top of them, pushing them toward the rail. Optimus fought courageously, pushing her back just before he hit the silver railing. Brooks didn't have time to sigh in relief. The horses were in pitched battle with one another down the lane. Under orders, the riders only sat, letting the horses duke it out as necessary. Reese did not tap into the extra speed she knew Siri had lying in wait. It was there like a diamond needing to be polished. Polishing day would come on race day. The gray filly got the better of the bay colt at the wire. Her neck victory was a measure of his toughness and her current brilliance. Race day was calling them and so was the opportunity for more success. 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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