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.
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