Reese eyed the big shining white thing in the sky with trepidation. It wasn't often that workouts were passed over from morning into the chilly night, but earlier had been semi-crazy. Bella Luna and Cross My Heart had been the final workout set, but a shout from the grooms had alerted the riders to a massive break in the fence. It had taken three hours to locate all of the weanlings and their dams. Luckily, none had been hurt tramping through the deep snow and they had eventually been found on the snow-covered hills of the turf track. That had been a day of frustration and irritation. Things that should have been completed had been pushed into the late afternoon and now, at seven o'clock at night, the last thing would be completed. Reese patted the ghostly mare beside her, enjoying the warmth that the thoroughbred provided. Bella Luna looked every inch a night time dream. Her coat had gone pure white as she she aged, silver dapples covering her entire frame. Her black mane had yet to lose its color and lay long and beautiful down her neck. Her soft brown eyes were covered by her fore-lock, giving her a distant, knowing look. Bella Luna was as beautiful a mare at a stand-still as she was when she was running. Her light colored colt would be useful in the dark. Reese looked forward to this ride, though she wished she were in bed instead. The wind hollowed as Ripley open Cross My Heart's stall door and pulled the midnight black mare from her haven. Cross' white star gleamed in the dim lighting and her eyes flashed nearly as brightly. The willow slim mare pranced alongside Ripley, nickering at Bella Luna. Both mares knew something was up as both of them had a routine set in stone. Cross was really the agitated one though. She needed routine while Bella Luna tended to flow with the change. Ripley tightened the mare's girth, shaking her head when the horse clacked her teeth irritably. Some things hadn't changed this one had been a yearling. Reese climbed aboard, buckling her helmet as she waited. Bella Luna dipped her head, chomping at the bit with a controlled eagerness. The champion mare was a bevy of excitement and calm. She had this odd combination of traits that seemed to blend like a melody. On the track, she was one of the most sensational turf mares in the country. Her wins were incredible and the ease at which she achieved them, history making. She would face her final starts in the next two months. The Tropical Rainforest Invitational and the Breeders' Cup Turf beckoned Bella Luna with every turn on the clock. Reese was both saddened by the way time flew and eager. Eager to prove that her filly had held her awesome form for the span of two years and had put the turf nation in a chokehold. But she wasn't the only mistress of the turf to call Witch Creek home. Cross flirted with dangerous speed and had become one of the iconic representations of courage and toughness of a thoroughbred. Headed only when nipped at the wire, Cross was a well-loved figure for her ferocious speed and daring temper. She never lost without a fight and was known for quick recovery while her foes toiled in tiredness. Ripley had grown to love the mare because never once had she been a let down. There was never a time when her "A" game was not brought to the starting gate. Cross was the quintessential warrior. Ripley patted the mare and pulled herself aboard. The lean filly quivered with power and excitement, her ears pricked at the moonlit track. Two shadowy humans rested on the rail, lit by a lantern at their feet. The mare snorted as they passed by them, suspicious of their intent. Ripley patted the mare and acknowledged Malcolm and Brooks with a tip of her head. The men nodded back, Brooks adding a wave. "Not too crazy Ripley." "Oh stop." Ripley rolled her shoulders, turning the mare in a circle in an effort to get her to pay attention. The mare blended in with the winter night, a shadow beside the light of Bella Luna. Cross let out a whinny and was surprisingly, mirrored by Bella. The gray's barrel shook with her call of longing, giving Reese a brief massage. She laid a hand on the gray mare's neck, and said, "What will it be?" "A five furlong breeze should do it." Reese was surprised by the shortness of Ripley's tone, but didn't bother to ponder on it. Bella Luna swiftly moved into a jog and from there into a long-legged lope. The atmosphere was powerful tonight. The night seemed to affect the horses differently. Cross was quiet in her flight over the dirt track, her ears pricked and her nostrils flared. Usually she snorted and made a fuss, catcalling to her opponent and egging herself on. Not tonight. The fiery mare was quiet as a mouse and seemed to dance over the track. The pair of thoroughbreds cruised through swift fractions, staying abreast of one another. The riders were lost upon their backs, their eyes focused on only the silver rail that dashed by to the inside. Bella floated Cross to the middle of the track down the backstretch, shying away from something in the infield. Cross pinned her ears then, bared her teeth and would have connected if not for Ripley's rebuke. The black mare straightened with a wild light coming into her eyes and lost it. Suddenly, the black flipped into a wild run, legs blurring beneath her hidden body. Bella Luna was lost behind the black as she soared down the track. Ripley could only grind her hands against the mare's neck helplessly. There were only two furlongs left to go and Cross was hurtling through relentless fractions around the turn. Reese was stunned by Cross' blistering pace, knew that Ripley could not truly pull the black up unless she wanted to botch the workout. She nudged Bella along, relieved when the gray mare picked it up on cue. Most horses would have surged off, but not Bella. She was the Mastermind of the turf and she rolled, as he did, on his rider's command. It was ironic that both of them were two of the greats to hit the track. Yet, Cross was equally as great. And she was alone down the lane. A shadow in the moonlight that the men could only see when she passed the railing. Her dark form was incredibly parallel to the ground, her long stride extended as she blitzed through the line three lengths ahead of Bella Luna. The gray mare looked just as full of herself, but even she hadn't been able to keep up with an unfair play on Cross' part. She would be ready for her race though after this refreshing run that, Reese thought, there was no doubt.
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"Hey!" Laura cried as Lady Timeah jumped off of her booted foot. The red haired girl slapped the filly's shoulder, eyes blazing with irritation. "Damnit Lady, get off of me." The filly swung away, moody eyes flaming with defiance. She wasn't bred to be temperamental, but Lord knew Dirty Diana had been nearly as difficult. Laura's pink roan mare was an uppity sort, hot tempered and on the muscle. This one was hot tempered and never off the muscle, not to mention she had a stubborn streak a mile wide. The filly snorted when Ripley appeared, a shadow with the sunny backdrop. The dark bay filly's nostrils flared, head turned to the side, analyzing the strange situation. The daughter of Limitless Time was a gorgeous creature. Even Laura who had become Lady's partner had to admit she was a beauty. "I leave you alone for two minutes and you're already in a war," Ripley scoffed as she reached them. The trainer cocked a brow at Laura who let out a huff. "Did she do any damage?" "No." Ripley's lips twitched, betraying her humorous side. She liked this little filly a lot. The Lusitania daughter was a fine specimen with an outrageous temper. Ripley patted the filly's neck, issuing a warning glare when Lady pinned her ears. She was much more ill tempered than Dirty Diana, who had never pinned her ears at anyone except on the track. The irritable temper was fine though, as long as Lady could back it up with a turn of foot. Her gallops gave every indication that speed wouldn't be a problem. Ripley bent down, checked over the polo wraps, found them straight and tight. Laura was a meticulous rider. She never missed a beat and was always the first to become defensive when her work was called into question. The red head did a fine job and she was very good with the fillies. Not that she'd had a chance to ride the colts. If something wasn't broken, it didn't need to be fixed. "Mal's going to meet us at the track. I'll give you a leg up." Laura nodded, sidled up to the filly and grunted as she was lifted into the saddle. Ripley was strong as an ox besides being prego and thin as a wand. The younger woman settled into the saddle, waved her legs along the filly's side, not daring to touch her. She checked her helmet strap with a gentle touch of her finger and nodded when she found herself all set to go. Lady danced as Ripley led her from the barn. She was a confident sucker this filly. She had a way about her that suggested she could go five rounds with the champ and still come out on top. Laura wondered what a workout would like between this one and Enrapture. Both of them were assertive types and both had enough confidence and cockiness for six horses. Laura liked her filly though. While Ennie was a powerful stick of dynamite, Lady had as pretty a stride as you'd ever seen. She had a smooth way of going and she just got over the ground easy. Laura dragged her hands through the dark mane, a smile touching her mouth. Mal nodded when they reached him, gaze sweeping over Lady. She was a nice looking filly to say the least. "I only want a mile gallop, let her out a tick in that final furlong." Ripley sent him a furtive look, as did Laura. Laura shrugged, nudged Timeah into a jog down the stretch. "Why aren't you letting us see what we have?" Ripley questioned as she watched the sleek filly lift into a picture perfect canter. "Because I already know what we've got. Too much speed will light her up and I want her supple and willing." Ripley shrugged, leaned on the rail. "Fine with me. If you think we've got the horse, we've got the horse." Laura was pouting as Lady Timeah shifted into her long-striding gallop. The dark bay filly was just as keen as ever, head down, neck bowed. She wanted to be released and Laura wanted to let her go. But orders were orders. The two people she respected most on the team were watching her and Ripley hadn't argued with Mal in the slightest. Obviously, there would be no heart-stopping run from Lady today. The run would be calling for the filly in the spring when she made her first race. The Limitless Time filly strode over the course with an ethereal air. Her ears were pricked, her tail lifted out behind her as she ran. Her perfectly sculpted head stayed straight despite the fact that horses were being moved about from pasture to pasture. She was a focused girl this one. Focused and on the ball. Her mouth was constantly testing Laura's grip on the bit. She would snort when she found Laura's hands had not yet budged an inch. She wanted to run so bad. Laura leaned close as the filly galloped into the far turn, changed her leads without effort. Boy, this was a nice filly. Laura was super impressed with what was beneath her. The dark bay moved like a champion and with Dirty Diana as a sister, perhaps she would take to the turf better. Mal and Ripley were leaning over the rail, eating up what they were seeing like dogs eyeing a bone. When Laura released the filly a tick, she took off, powering in the final furlong. Ripley hummed in approval when the filly only continued to stride through the line. There was no doubt that this was a nice filly. She had the looks, the movement, the strength. And as she galloped back into the backstretch, Ripley knew she had the stamina as well. "Impressive move." Ripley said, tapping her fingers on the rail. "We've got a nice bunch for next season." "We've got us a hoss race," Laura proclaimed as she opened her mount's stall door. Today was definitely going to be a fun ride with four two year old horses needing workouts for their next starts. The shining stars of Witch Creek's two year old division would be stepping back to allow the late bloomers the spotlight. Laura knew Reese considered Taboo to be a top filly, as she was a sensational mid-distance turf runner, but Laura would categorize her as just below Saint, Sun King, Nirvana and Spotlight Pride. Taboo was the secret dark horse. She had guts, the breeding and the speed to make her mark. Next year, Laura expected Reese to grab the bull by the horns with that one. But for now... Laura would be glad to face off with her aboard her own filly.
Queen's Honesty snorted, her upside down exclamation marked head swiveled to the right to take note of the fullness of the barn. Ripley was running her hands down Vagabond's legs, making sure they were tight and cold. The newly grade four horse had made a sensational debut over the dirt and would find himself very much in his comfort zone on the practice track. Maggie smiled. "Hard to believe he made such a nice appearance last out. Four possible starters for the Derby next year, Ripley?" Ripley grunted, stepped back and took in the immensity of Vagabond. The Winged Heir colt was sensational looking with his great bay body and immense muscles. He was a late-bloomer. Ripley wasn't quite convinced dirt was his best surface, but if that's where he needed to be to gain confidence for next years TTC, she wouldn't argue. "Hopefully not. I can't clone myself just yet." Nocturnal Runaway and Taboo looked like mirror images, though Noc gleamed like molten silver and Tabz had more of a flat sheen. Taboo was lean and mean, the true turfer look, while Nocturnal Runaway possessed the thick bulkiness of the Night Stalker family. Justin and Reese were both particularly fond of their mounts, believed them to be on the up and up. Just last week, Noc had claimed her second career victory over Barely A Sound. Justin had appreciated the filly's immense determination, was impressed by her late race strength. Perhaps, if she kept up this run, Nirvana wouldn't be the only filly in the Triple Tiara starting gate. Laura rubbed Queen's head as she fixed the filly's bridle. The relation of Flawed Princess and Whipped Cream looked every inch as super as though grade one stars had looked a year ago. Her status with Witch Creek would always be pending. She was only on lease from Nature Blue, but Laura was eager to get back in the saddle with this type of animal. Though she was just a maiden, Queen's Honesty struck Laura as special. Queen had an edge to her, a bossy nature that typically transferred over to the track. Now if only they could get a flipping race into her. Today was as close as they would get until more maidens started filling the races. The quartet of horses slipped into the early morning sunshine. The silver Nocturnal Runaway lifted her delicate nose to the air and released a high pitched whinny. Justin winced, but took advantage of the filly's stillness and hopped aboard with Brooks' assistance. Brooks snagged the filly's bridle and led her down the path. She danced excitedly, hooves pounding the dirt in a staccato beat. The Night Stalker daughter was a fiery little thing, especially when amped up for a workout. Vagabond and Taboo jogged side by side down the path, Taboo hidden by the larger colt. She was slim as a wand compared to the broad bodied colt, but God knew she was tougher than most. Reese preferred the sleek filly beneath her, appreciated the quicker than the wind speed she possessed. The Everyday Hero daughter simply was a phenomenal turf filly. Her form was becoming more impressive with every race and Reese expected her to demonstrate it further in the Ms. Striking Motion Stakes. Queen's Honesty snorted, her white rimmed eyes flickering down the track. It was like sitting on a ticking time bomb, Laura thought. Queen's Honesty had more breaking speed than any of the other two year olds she faced today. She was stubborn foe and she would have to be against these horses. The "B" string was becoming tougher and tougher and it would be a good test to what exactly Queen was made of. Laura patted the filly's neck, turned her to face Ripley who leaned against the railing. "Steady gallop for a mile, four furlong workout. Obviously Queen is going to break off first, but don't let her get too foolish on the lead. Keep her at a steady pace, increasing only when she is confronted by Noc and Tabz. It'll be a good run for everyone and that's the goal. We are not out to beat one another, but to have enough horse for the next two months." There were stifled mutterings from the peanut gallery before everyone turned their horse down the lane. Queen's Honesty broke off first, pushing off her hind end with immense power. She was a broad filly and she definitely had one heck of a motor. She skipped easily over the dirt, her large strides covering the ground with relative effortlessness. Laura kept her hands at the filly's neck, blue eyes forward as she kept the filly at a solid pace. Swifter than Noc, Taboo got second with a burst of speed. The Everyday Hero filly was turning into one of the most promising of her generation and her class was indisputable. The quiet colored filly floated over the course, tail and mane flying behind her as she settled two long lengths behind the leader. Noc was at Taboo's hip, ears pinned back into her mane, eyes a little wild with eagerness. Justin kept the grip on the filly tight, brown eyes focused as ever. The Night Stalker daughter was one impressive individual. It wouldn't be too long before she was making a name for herself like the others. He had complete faith in her and thought of her as the typical Witch Creek underdog. The bonus was that she had the pedigree of a champion. Maggie kept her hands quiet as the her colt oriented his limbs beneath his body. Vagabond was a big, rangy sort, the type that liked to throw in one honest, powerful run. The bay son of Winged Heir had his ears pricked on the trio of fillies ahead of him, but he was traveling easily. Maggie was forced to wonder which surface the colt actually preferred. His only start ever on dirt had produced his grade four victory. He was the type of animal that loved to close into the furious paces all too common on the dirt track. He was also the type to relish the furious run in the final furlong of the turf race. Maggie kept her hands light on the reins, letting the big horse do what was necessary to maintain his position. Laura kept an ear out for the horses behind her, but her filly was traveling way too sweetly for a turfer. Queen's Honesty motored over the course, powerful strides engulfing the loamy soil. Boy, she was a nice horse. Perhaps all the time to grow would bode well for her down the line. Laura eased her hands up the filly's neck, signaling for more as they bounded into the first furlong of the workout. Queen responded with another gear, putting more separation between herself and the late runners. Justin did not like the look of Queen's Honesty showing them her tail. She had the stamina to keep right on going, but Lord knew his filly had stamina too. Without any indication, the young jock tossed sanity to the air and chirped to his filly. Noc lunged, catching Taboo off guard, as she took control and pursued the easy-moving leader. It wasn't long before Reese had Taboo running back up Nocturnal Runaway's inside. Noc wasn't the only filly that could handle the dirt. In fact, Everyday Hero fillies tended to thrive on the surface. It was only a gift of Forbidden Wings that Tabz was awesome on the turf. Maggie grunted as the gray fillies charged after Queen's Honesty into the far turn. The bay filly most certainly wasn't coming back to them. Vagabond ears flickered impatiently. He was so obviously waiting for Maggie's cue that she couldn't hold him back any longer. She chirruped to the colt and held on tight as he gunned wide off of the turn. Ripley and Brooks watched the quartet rumble down the stretch, both pairs of eyes widened in awe. The tenacity that so clearly was marked in the Perfection lineage was definitely on display. Queen's Honesty dug down and held off the flying Noc and Tabz. Her ears were pinned and her determination so clearly evident. Brooks let out a whistle when Taboo finally got the better of the filly. Ripley nudged Brooks, nodded to Vagabond who was soaring down the middle of the stretch, unwinding that impressive stride. The heavy bay colt was flying and Ripley was dying for a stopwatch. The colt caught up to the fillies, who most definitely were not stopping, missing by a neck to the wily Taboo. Queen's Honesty and Nocturnal Runaway galloped out with Vagabond, their ears pricked and their nostrils flaring. Taboo pulled up quicker, tired after having to be tested so thoroughly over a track she didn't necessarily favor. "Perhaps next year, they won't just be "B Stringers," Brooks stated as he watched the colt and fillies round the first turn once again. Ripley hummed in agreement. "You know what they say about sleeping giants?" Brooks cocked a brow, "What?" "You don't want to awaken them. I think I may make an exception at our rivals' expense." "This is going to be a fun workout," Reese said as she tightened the girth on Spotlight Pride's saddle. The lean chestnut colt twitched beneath the tack, but didn't fly off the handle as he'd used to do. The Deathflash's Pride colt had come a long way since the beginning of the season. Reese patted the horse's neck, smiled when he turned to look back at her with his signature white rimmed eyes. The eyes always made him look slightly wild. It was an over-exaggeration as the colt was not the ferocious stallion he was expected to be. He was a cool horse, wildly fast, but definitely not ferocious or bullish. "In fact, outside of racing my dear Pride, you could be called a coward." The horse snorted as if in disbelief and his attention swiftly moved from his rider to the shadowy form at the entrance to the barn. Reese laughed, "Typical man." She too turned her gaze to the entrance, cocked a brow. "I take it you're ready to roll?" The winner of last year's Breeders' Cup Juvenile Turf looked ever the ominous opponent. The Devil's Hourglass had her mother's coltish frame, her father's savage head and her own personal vendetta to finish. Several second and third place finishes sat between her powerful victory in the Universal Cup. The time was ticking and the dark bay filly was more than ready to take back her crown. Her trainer was eager to get her proud personally bred filly to the winner's circle again, just once before she retired for good. Ripley's green eyes flashed from the shadows, irritable as usual. "Ready when you are." Reese nodded, clicked her helmet strap together and guided Pride into the weak winter sunlight. The copper colt glowed in the sun, eyes sweeping over the snow covered terrain. He snorted, waited patiently for Reese to mount up before parading down the track. He was as on his game as ever. He would have to be in order to take down the AJC Sires Produce Stakes. The ten furlongs was nearing his distance limit, but he was bloody fast enough to win. They'd have to keep up to take him down. Everyone knew where Spotlight Pride was going. To the front and never looking back. Hourglass was not quite as fast as Spotlight Pride, but she was known for some speed. She'd stolen the Belmont Turf Classic on the front end and was not against running away with her races. She'd been under prepared for the Flower Bowl, but would not be so for the World Filly Cup. It could be the race to reassert Hourglass as the top turf three year old in the nation. Ripley badly wanted the race, but it could be just a stepping stone to the year end goal of the Breeders' Cup Filly and Mare Turf. Ripley patted the filly's neck as she stepped onto the dirt, ears flicking here and there. She had never disliked the surface when forced to work over it and her gallops were sometimes significantly better over it than the turf. Perhaps, a surface change would be called for as a four year old... Stranger things had happened. The pair of horses broke off into long striding canters. Hourglass snorted fiercely, tail flicking over her rump. She was all business on the track. She'd once been extremely hard to control, bloody fast as a juvenile and fearless. Now she was a professional. She knew her job. She was the class with the speed of sprinters. If there was any horse Ripley wanted under her in a race, it was this one. Ripley nodded to Reese, made the call. "Five furlongs, breezing." Reese let the reins out, smiled when her handsome juvenile scooted into a fast gallop. The horse had the quickest break of any other horse on the roster, besides Cross. He was a lean, mean machine. Pride was known as one of the toughest horses to beat in the juvenile circuit. He never had quit and when he lost, he gutted the victor. She admired the horse's hard trying attitude. He was as gutty as they came and this workout would set him up for his toughest test yet. Hourglass and Pride galloped in tandem over the dirt course, each lining out like greyhounds. Hourglass' ears were pinned to her neck while Pride's stood up like towers. He was an easy going horse, knew the difference between gallop and workout. Hourglass was on the ball from start to finish. Reese would enjoy playing with the dark bay filly, but wondered if she would be the one laughed at in the end. Ripley kept her hands light on the reins as Hourglass quickened down the stretch. The filly didn't need someone in her mouth, it made her obstinate. She was the kind of horse you left alone because she was just the good, just that smart. Her big loping strides covered the ground impressively and even though Pride was faster, she seemed to just have that extra power. The woman leaned close the filly as she shot through the first furlong, glanced back to keep tabs on Pride. The chestnut colt was tucked in at Hourglass' haunches. He looked like he was relaxed and right exactly where Reese wanted him. She was intent on keeping pressure on Hourglass, but the filly was just doing it so easy. Reese was happy with the way the colt was moving. He was just loping so prettily alongside Hourglass. Man he had some speed, but that speed needed some guidance. Now was the time to learn. The Kentucky Open was the destination and his speed would need to be contained in order to get ten furlongs. This was practice for that big race just as much as for the Kentucky Open. The horses charged into the turn, hooves churning up the course. Pride moved up to the filly's throat latch, his brown eyes flashing with enjoyment. The horse was so enthusiastic and he was just so much fun. Handy as hell was how Reese described him to other riders. He was there no matter what you needed. Reese wanted to see what the colt would do with a poor break. She thought he could handle it. He was becoming a partner in their journey, less so than the #1 star. Pride and Hourglass swung into the stretch, legs flying beneath each of them. The riders were quiet as the horses soared down the stretch, listening to their breathing, their thunderous hooves. There was nothing like riding on an empty track. The horses cruised through the wire, Hourglass a half length in front, her ears pricked. Nice and easy would get them to the winner's circle. The big races were calling their names. The hourglass was tipping toward their time in the spotlight. Laura saw her life flash before her eyes when Dirty Diana rose on her hind legs, pawing the air. The pink roan mare looked powerful and domineering at the end of the line. Her eyes rolled when Laura backed up, dragging the mare with her. The All For Glory daughter danced ungainly on her hind legs to the unhappiness of Ripley and Reese who watched the spectacle. When the mare finally came to earth, the two others in the group relaxed visibly. Cross snorted, eyes flashing at the foolishness of the other four year old. It was perfectly clear that Dirty Diana had come out of her last race foolishly frustrated. Enough seconds, she wanted a win. Ripley rode up to Dirty Diana, grasped the reins and shook her head. "Quit it, Di." Laura clambered aboard with the swift help of Justin. "I don't know, Ripley. She might be ready for a whole other season." The crew had been hemming and hawing for a long time on the destiny of Dirty Diana. They'd hoped she'd notch her grade one win long before now, hoped she'd take to the turf and discovered she preferred it like her half-sibling Ode To Glory. Now that her niche had been discovered, she was looking for that win. Laura took the reins up, shaking her head. "Sorry, Ripley. Sometimes I just forget how to handle that." Ripley tapped the girl's hand, smirked. "Sometimes I forget too and then you remember." Ripley nudged Cross along to a jog down the path. The black mare was really alert, ears pricked and muscles bunched. She was watching the pasture with an intent gaze. Ripley followed the look, spotted Sweeto Cheeto and Positively Precious playing along the fence line. With a flick of the reins, Cross' attention was returned to the track and suddenly she was a hell of a lot more focused. Her biological clock could be ticking, but her heart would forever be with the track. Bella Luna pranced onto the dirt, eyes darkening with dislike. She loathed the dirt. She was forced to work harder on the dirt in order to get that win. Reese was finding that the dirt was only furthering her form. She'd been virtually unbeatable since the turf track had closed for the winter. The near white mare tossed her black mane in defiance, but obliged Reese by moving into a strong hand-gallop. Dirty Diana rollicked along the inner rail, bucking and squealing like a little foal. Reese had a private laugh, enjoying the fact that Laura was getting all she could handle today. Cross lined out like a greyhound down the backstretch, ears pinned back into her mane. She had bloody fast speed, scary speed when she was feeling her oats. Today, she was cruising like the professional race mare she'd become. Ripley appreciated the transformation from frightened young two year old to ballsy older mare. She'd made a gamble taking this one in and now it was paying off. Now Cross was a champion for the ages and Ripley had experienced the success of a lifetime. Cross' savage head cocked outward when Bella Luna galloped up to her outside. Her eyes flashed, threatened physical action, but a soft nudge from Ripley kept the black in line. "Boy, you're full of yourself today, Diana," Laura muttered as the mare skipped around the first turn two lengths behind Cross and Bella. She was a heavy mare when she was on the bridle and today, she was pulling Laura out of the saddle. She rumbled over the course, stride lengthening in the backstretch. Her ears pricked and Laura sighed in relief. Suddenly, Diana picked up and relaxed. Laura flexed her fingers in thanks. It was to be a five furlong workout ending at the wire. Cross was going to light them up with Bella Luna not quite liking the surface change. The light gray mare would definitely be relieved to set foot on GHF's turf course. Dirty Diana would basically have to reel the black one in and Laura was more than ready to do so. Ripley released Cross and ducked, hair blowing back when the mare moved into a sprint. She had a quick turn of foot and would blaze race or workout start to finish. Her legs flew over the dirt, kicking up clumps in her wake. She was known for her turf racing, but her speed was just as lethal on the dirt. If she'd been able to have one more year, Ripley probably would have stuck her on the dirt to silence her doubters. Luckily for them, Cross was done for her career after the Breeders' Cup. Bella Luna tracked in second, her fluid striding slightly interrupted, but improving as she went along. She had a confidence about her that seemed to say she would run as well as she could on this foreign surface. Reese was proud of the gray's courage, loved her all the more for it. The gray leveled out in the third furlong, settling into her grand stride. Familiar with the dirt surface, Dirty Diana loomed an ominous presence as the mares headed into the far turn. Laura liked the power of the pink roan, recognized it as filthy speed when turned loose. The All For Glory mare was impressive as she skipped through the turn, slick as a fish. Laura let her go right before the homestretch, grinning from ear to ear when she exploded and swarmed Bella Luna. A second later, the roan buried the future Hall Of Famer, and was off in pursuit of the second. Reese grunted when Bella Luna toiled in the pink roan's wake. She hustled the mare forward, satisfied when she responded with a grinding effort. She wasn't the claimer that Di had made her out to be. Come next race in the Melbourne Cup, Bella Luna would eat her rivals up and spit them out. Determination lined both of their faces as they gave futile chase to the dual surfaced horses. Cross' ears had pinned when Diana rushed to her outside and put her to a drive. Ripley was impressed by Dirty Diana, even more impressed when she managed to get head in front of Cross. Tough as nails, the black mare battled back with a fierce lunge, edging out the other mare. The pair continued past the wire, ears pinned as though they were keen on battling for ultimate supremacy. Chided by their riders, the pair turned back and caught up with Bella Luna who was covered in dirt. "Betcha she can't wait to get back to the turf." "Oh yeah. You can say that again." 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." "Look at you, two yearling mounts in one day," Mal joked, slapping Justin on the back. "I don't know what that says about our yearling stock since we need to call in the big guns to handle them." Ripley snorted from her position against the stall wall. Her hands rested on her belly, but her eyes never left the dark bay filly standing between the cross-ties. She had a vested interest in this horse. Every year, Ripley took in a couple horses from Intrepid Racing and brought them to the highest levels. Faith would be her next Intrepid horse next year. And hopefully in Year Sixteen, Faith would bring the Turf Triple Crown back into Witch Creek. The star and striped face turned slightly to the right, angling her sharp eyeball in the direction of the trainer. Ripley liked the look in this one's eye. She had intelligence and cleverness. She had a discerning look to her as though she knew that today was different. Faith reminded Ripley a lot of Cross My Heart though she would definitely be a different kind of animal on the track. Her body screamed classic distance and while she was fleet in her gallops, she was nothing like the speed demon of Cross. "Needing the big guns is not necessarily a bad thing," Ripley said, stepping up to hold the filly's head. She played with the leathers and then moved her hands to the bit, guiding the filly left and right. Faith responded with a disgruntled snort, but she didn't resist as Uno had to the control on his face. "It means Justin has a job here." Justin laughed, patted the filly's shoulder. "I like her. She'll be nicer than Uno is on the hands. He's a hulk that one. Fillies are always easier." Mal rolled his eyes, knowing how wrong Justin was about to be. Coveted Faith was far from being an easy horse. "Boy, you might have just jinxed yourself." Justin twined black mane around his hands, ignoring the blazing smile on Ripley's face. Whatever problems the filly caused he would be more than capable of dealing with her. Malcolm lead Coveted Faith from the barn, playing with the bit as she started to prance. She bowed her neck, eyes rimming with white as she caught sight of the world around her. She let out a wild whinny when Brooks rode up aboard Jabberwock. Brooks grinned attached a lead rope to Faith's bit, much to Justin's chagrin. The dark bay filly thrashed to the end of the line, ears pinned and mouth agape. The towering Jabberwock moved his bay body alongside her, ignoring her complaints. His five year old brain had long since determined that the yearlings were not exactly bright. Brooks patted the gelding's neck, appreciating his adaptability. Faith snorted, dancing down the path. She'd take large hops and then a couple quick steps. Justin's brows were drawn at these antics. She'd never done them before in her gallops. She was obviously intelligent though. A break in routine had cued her up to the extreme. The beautiful filly ducked out from Jabberwock when she got on the track, nearly pulling Brooks from the saddle. Grunting, Brooks reined her back in and gave Jabberwock his head. Distracted by the other horse's pace, Faith settled along at a jog, head still bowed and knees lifted. Justin patted the filly's neck, standing in the saddle when Brooks leaned down to unclip the lead rope. Faith shied, but only after she was loose. Justin nudged the filly with his knees and let her go. The instructions had been different for Faith than the others. Gallop her a mile, but let her go four furlongs out. He'd wondered at that, but not for very long when considering Faith had the speed of a miler and the stamina of a distance horse. She'd do fine at eight furlongs and it'd give her time to burn off the energy. Faith galloped strongly into the backstretch, ears pinned and tail flying out behind her. She was a tough customer and Justin found he'd been wrong in suspecting her the easier mount. Nope, definitely not. The filly was heavy on the bit and she demanded he release her. Justin snapped the bit in her mouth, sighed when she finally released. Suddenly, Faith became a whole lot more amenable. "There, you see that?" Mal grunted. "He's got her now. She's a bit of a head case at first." Ripley nodded, but disagreed. She'd ridden a head case for three years and Faith was definitely not one. She just had too much energy for her own good. Now, the dark bay filly was cruising along, ears pricked. She clearly was in a comfortable stride for Justin had not moved a muscle since gaining control. The filly wheeled into far turn, switched her leads and cut loose. Justin thanked God that he was wearing gloves when the reins whipped through his hands. He let out a whistle, furthering the filly in her rapid pace. Her legs were a blur beneath her as she dashed through the turn with incredible speed. Justin was smiling like a little kid as the filly stormed down the homestretch. This was an impressive filly. She knew her job and did it as though she were already racing. Malcolm and Ripley were thinking similar thoughts as the filly zipped through the wire. Mal shook his head when Justin snatched up the bit and had Faith shaking her head in fury. "Something tells me that Justin has missed his ladies." "Funny, I seemed to have heard the same thing." Justin Santiago had to call this the high point of his career. He had proven himself capable of working with the big brawny types of colts through Hokum, In Front and Casualty of War and now those efforts were being repaid with the highest honor. El Sol Del Mar was known for being an honest to good filly and her three year old campaign was perhaps one of the best ever. She'd won the Preakness, the Belmont, and the Breeders Cup Classic with sprints thrown in and high-class efforts on the grass. El Sol Del Mar had been incredible enough to win the best three year old filly honor and horse of the year in Year Six. Her foals had been highly anticipated and they had definitely answered the call. Eternal Phantom had been named Year Twelve's Horse of the Year following her victory in the Kentucky Derby and she was a terror on the course at this very moment. Midnight Thriller her twin had paraded to thirteen victories, her largest coming in the Valorizarre Derby and the These Old Bones Stakes, over Eternal Phantom. And then had come Mastermind with so far 29 career victories, wins in the Turf Triple Sprinter Crown and the Dirt Sprinter Crown, back to back victories in the King's Bishop and two Breeders Cup wins. Sun King was well on his way in following their hoofsteps, already a grade three winner at the age of two with a recent victory in the Eagle Cup. Justin would attempt to finish off those beyond successful career with his juvenile. The colt was a unique animal and he seemed to have no clue that he was racing royalty. The dark skinned guy ran his eyes over the muscled horse, could only compare him to Sun King in body type. Both of them were very physical looking animals with none of their sisters' or Mastermind's graceful elegance. Uno Momento had a glorious dark bay high with a white arrowhead marking his forehead. He had a gentle look to him, but already his body was hardened and his gallops were getting stronger. "Perhaps you'll be my ride into the Hall of Fame, Uno." Justin grinned at the thought, patted the colt's shoulder. He felt a big hand clasp his and he jumped. He turned to meet Mal's blue gaze and felt sheepish. "Don't get too excited yet, Justin. He hasn't even had his first workout yet." Justin shrugged, but he had a feeling Mal was only teasing him. They both knew Uno Momento had the kind of speed his brothers and sisters possessed. The yearling took a little more trouble to get the speed out of him, but if he hadn't, Justin wouldn't have been his rider. Justin specialized in the physical horses. Ripley stepped out of her office, clasped her gloved hands over her small belly. "I've been looking forward to this for a while. It's been a while since we've had a Sunny baby to bring up." Mal laughed. "Yeah... a year. What are you going to do after him? He's the last we'll have." Ripley smiled, "I'm not worried. Then we'll have Mastermind and Midnight Thriller babies to look forward too." Mal and Justin cocked their eyebrows. The Mastermind babies were all plotted out, but the Midnight Thriller one most certainly was not. Justin shrugged, waited patiently for Malcolm to boost him into the small racing saddle. Uno Momento was an oddball compared to the other Sunny babies. He stood still and took everything in with an easy persona, never getting intense or absolutely focused. Justin was curious how Uno would go in a race, wondered if he would be as cool as a cucumber when running with four to nine other horses. The group exited the barn, Justin taking the lead down the dirt path. Uno glided over the ground with hidden grace and he never seemed to be rattled, not even when the wind kicked up some snow into his face. The bay horse snorted, dropped his head and plodded down the path. Justin settled into the easy pace, smiled at Uno's kindness. He had a different dimension to him than most other horses. Ripley and Mal took their spots along the rail, green and blue eyes following the colt as he stepped onto the track. Ripley remarked, "All these babies look so right on the dirt, don't they? Mastermind was the only oddball who took to the turf, more of a quality of his sire than Sunny." Mal hummed in agreement. "I think we'll find Uno is particular to dirt. He's got his sire's look to him." Mal rested his hands on the rail before calling to Justin. "Go an easy mile gallop, let him loose the final three furlongs. He's not as quick to turn on as the fillies." Ripley cast a look at Mal, who shrugged. "Well he isn't." Ripley grumped, "I have yet to find a Sunny baby who wasn't fleet of foot." Justin ignored the bickering trainers, turned the colt down the straightaway and nudged him into a jog and then a canter. Uno tucked his chin to his chest, lifted his knees extra high and paraded down the stretch like a dressage horse. Justin shook his head, admiring the colt's playfulness, but knew now was not the time to let the colt play. The boy niggled the reins, loosened them and found that Uno gained encouragement from that. He lengthened his stride into a rocking-horse gallop and dropped his head. Perhaps he was more focused than everyone had given him credit for. The colt strolled through the first half-mile, ears pricked far forward as if this was all new to him. Uno had gone a mile and a quarter gallop every day for the last month. This was nothing new, but he always came prepared with a new interest in the job at hand. Such curiosity would keep the handsome horse on the track for a while. Justin settled his hands at the bay's neck, wrapped his fingers in the colt's flying black mane. Uno played with the bit, but he certainly wasn't on the muscle. Justin let the reins fly through his fingers as the colt galloped down the backstretch. He was beginning to snort, his breaths coming faster than his stride. The horse pressed into the bit now as they went into the far turn and Justin picked up the reins to guide him to the rail. Justin had just enough time to wrap his arms around the colt's neck. Ripley muttered, "Shit!" Mal practically leaped over the rail, but there was no need. Uno had slammed on the breaks faster than a reiner when Justin had picked up the reins to turn to the rail. The colt lingered for a moment, processed everything, but gunned it when Justin threw the reins at his neck. Once again, Justin was lucky to have snagged mane because the colt went from zero to 35 in a matter of seconds. Mal let out an exasperated sigh as the colt stormed into the stretch, legs blurring beneath his body. The pair watched as he thundered relentlessly over the track, dust and dirt kicking up in his wake. He no longer looked the friendly horse he'd been before the work. His ears were pinned into his mane. His neck was stretched out, long and snaky. He looked furious and frightening, a wild horse. Ripley was laughing like a loon when the colt shot through the wire and back into the first turn. "Oh... so you're telling me that one isn't as fast as the other Sunny babies?" "Not from the get-go..." Mal said. "Let's hope he comes back normal. D'you see him stop dead when Justin picked up the reins?" "Yup. Gotta fix that, or next time we just tell Justin to let the horse do his own thing. See what we get then?" Mal hummed, but his thoughts were turning to the race situation. A horse had to be handled by his rider in traffic. "Let's just hope he's a front runner then." "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. 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. |
WorkoutsPlease realize that I do add in workouts before they are necessarily due. If you are looking for a specific horse because you are judging a race, click on his/her name below and his/her latest workout will appear at the top or your screen. Categories
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