"Some people would say sending a grade five racehorse against that bunch in the Golden Slipper Stakes is crazy," Reese stated as she put the finishing touches on Bella Luna's glowing body. The sleek gray mare was a glorious sight to behold these days. She was in form, on top of her game and slick as a fish on the track. Just when the competition thought they had her she moved just out of their grasp for another resounding win. "That is true, but I'd say that they don't know Vagabond as well as I do." Maggie and Reese both looked up at Ripley as she stepped out of the office. You could barely tell she was pregnant, her tough exercise program was keeping all of the baby fat off so she could ride in two more months at the Breeders' Cup. "Maggie knows him too. He'll pull a surprise on them one of these days. He's come too close not to be in the top echelon, despite being only "grade five"." Maggie glanced over at the subject of conversation. Vagabond was a powerhouse just at a glance. He possessed a massive chest and shoulder, a glorious butt and the cleanest legs. He was a rarely bred Thoroughbred being a son of Winged Heir and Rebellious Girl. He had the look of a champion in his posture and demeanor. The look of eagles beamed out at her when he twisted his head, dark eyes glinting intensely. Bond would be the Turf Triple Crown hopeful come Year Fifteen and Maggie knew without a doubt he was as dangerous as the top turf two year old in the country. "Got to be a tough workout today to prep him for next week. He's got a tough job, but I have faith in him. He's been a rock solid horse and if anyone is likely to improve with age, it's him. "Mile and a quarter gallop, three furlong workout." The riders mounted up and rode out of the barn into the chilly winter. The first snow had touched the rolling hills last night, turning the place into a fairy tale. Reese wanted to squeal with excitement. She was still so unused to winter even after two years of being here. While everyone moaned and groaned well into January, Reese thrilled over it. South America was not a place where snow fell ever. "Soon, we'll have to move to the indoor track," Ripley muttered. The other women barely heard the remark, but exchanged glances. Ripley had ridden her final workout over the rolling hills a couple weeks ago. She was going to be edgy after December with restrictions on riding to the retired broods and geldings. Not to mention Brooks babying her... Bella Luna jogged onto the track full of energy and life. The dappled gray mare was a sweet heart, the sweetest in the entire roster. It just so happened that she could run the pants off of most everyone else. The Sea Struck mare tucked her chin to her chest, fog billowing out of her nostrils and billowing out behind her. She moved like the Queen she was and boy,did she look the part. The dirt track was a little tougher on her than the turf and it would prime her for her next race in the Cox Plate. She didn't like the dirt, but she trained over it well enough. Vagabond would actually move up slightly and Reese was almost positive the gray mare would have her hooves full. Bond looked like a million dollars as he stretched into his powerful gallop. He had the largest stride Maggie had ever seen, greater than even Para's ground-eating strides. He moved effortlessly and with command and sure made her feel like a million dollar rider. Bond cruised alongside Bella Luna as though he were her mirror image. Maggie kept her hands at the colt's withers, blue eyes focused ahead. This colt gave her a ton of confidence, but now was not the time to be cocky. Bella Luna bounded into the backstretch, ears pinned to her neck from the effort it took to fight the cuppy track. She hated it immensely, hated the colt running alongside her because he was moving like it was turf. Reese could feel the frustration building within the gray mare and knew this was what she needed. Easy wins created an unambitious mount. They began to assume every race would be as easy as the last. The pair of horses marched through the remaining half-mile, picking up the pace back into the first turn. Bond's ears dipped back when Maggie nudged him for more pace. He responded with a simple lengthening of his strides, nosing out Bella Luna for the lead. The silver gray mare battled back on the inside, battling the ground, but proving how much of a champion she was. She was a determined son of a gun and she would not lose to this upstarting two year old. The bay colt lead the way through the middle of the backstretch, a king in his castle. Bond was so in the bridle that Maggie was almost tempted to just let him run by Bella Luna. He was so full of himself, so full of energy. Oh, how it was tempting... Ripley liked the way Bond was moving over the dirt course, really liked how cool and calculated he was as a two year old. The colt assumed command on the far turn with relative ease and looked as though he would blow Bella Luna out of the water. Bella had her excuse, but Ripley was liking how hard the mare was trying on a surface not her own. The silver mare finally caught hold on the rail and surged up to battle with Vagabond. Together the two horses charged down the stretch, eyeballing one another as if they had faced each other many other times before this. The riders were quiet as they marched through the wire and back into the first turn. It was an impressive workout by Vagabond as he drew off in the gallop out. Bella Luna pulled up, clearly showing her disgust with the dirt track. Ripley knew one horse who would be more than happy to kill it in her next race.
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The only steadily raced two year old in the entire set would be Spotlight Pride. The leggy chestnut colt stalked around beneath Reese Balling Jones with a confused glint in his gaze. He wasn't used to wandering around, waiting for his competition. Ripley kept a strict workout schedule that most everyone adhered to if they wanted to keep their job. Reese's dark eyes flashed to the two year old barn, eyes full of irritation. Her horse was not one who took an interruption in routine well. Laura flew around Queen's Honesty, hands working to tighten leather and gear as quickly as possible. A half hour she'd been in bed, certain her workout wouldn't come til later. Ripley apparently had changed riders on Honey without telling anyone. Maggie had originally been set to ride the excellent bay filly, but something hadn't clicked between the two in gallops. Laura was the appointed rider after having ridden Whipped Cream, a relation of Honey. Laura could only think of one thing that had determined the switch. Honey was stubborn and ferocious. Such traits were family traits, but Laura could harness them and make them a benefit. Justin mounted Nocturnal Runaway in the barn, appreciating the silver filly's perfect body type. She was an agile thing, sleek as a fish and handy as hell. He adored the filly and knew eventually, she'd get back to winning races. She had the family to make a mark on racing. Though there had been no wins since Noc joined WCS, the filly's out of the money finishes had stopped. Now she was making ground and had only just missed to Proteus Prince, an upcoming dirt horse himself. The riders hustled their mounts through the barn doors, nodding briefly to an agitated Reese. Spotlight Pride huffed at the sight of the competition, tail twitching uneasily. He wasn't one for crowds, but these two were a welcome sight. Casualty of War was an enemy so these two could hardly be worse than that muscular dark bay. Being the senior member of the team, Reese relayed workout information to the riders. Ripley would be waiting in the three furlong gap, waiting for her plans to be well executed. Pride danced beneath Reese, eyes rolling white with excitement. He was on the muscle and absolutely dying to roll. Reese let him leap into a trot, restraining him to only a trot. "Mile and an eighth gallop up to the three furlong flat. Gotta prepare them for their races." Queen's stocky body bounced over the ground in barely controlled excitement. She was getting some work finally. A real work. "Boy, you are definitely like Rea. I'll give you that." The powerful two year old was very much like grade one winning Whipped Cream. She had hidden strength, ferocious movement that betrayed the power to onlookers. She was no Honey. She was a Queen. Laura let the reins skip through her hands as the bay took up alongside Pride. Her white-rimmed gaze matched the spookier colt's gaze with ferocious determination. Neither ducked away from the challenge. Reese believed that was an improvement on her athletic creature. He used to be spookier than crazy. Now he was as confident as the next two year old... at least to some extent. Justin had his hands full of vibrant horse. Nocturnal Runaway bolted into a canter, controlled down to teacup steps. The Night Stalker daughter was full of fight after her latest loss. It spurred her on to greater gallops, fiercer times, tougher battles. Noc snorted profusely with every stride, eyes blazing with fury. She looked a lot like Saintly Touch, with a compact body and powerful legs. Justin leaned close as the filly tackled her first hill with interest. Justin gave her a little pat at the top of the hill, steadied her and then prepared for the rest of the workout. Spotlight Pride buried Queen's Honesty off of the first hill, legs skimming over the course with ease. He was a fireball over this particular course, relished the need for speed and the lack of it. Pride leaped over the grass, focused to a "T," tongue bouncing with his lengthy strides. Reese felt more confident than ever on this colt. He'd earned his time off and was coming into the Tri-State Futurity than any other race. It made her confident for down the road. The Breeders' Cup was two months away and he was improving, if there could be improvement, at the right time. The bay daughter of Truth Be Told vigorously tracked Spotlight Pride, ears pinned back into her neck. She had a great cruising speed, something she'd shown in every start. She had a way about her that made you think star. Though she hadn't broken her maiden yet, Queen's Honesty was on the verge of making it big. Laura tucked her hands into the whipping black mane, feeling more confident as the bay settled into her powerful stride. She was a length and a half behind Spotlight Pride, gaining ground on the hills. Not as daring on the downward slopes, Queen's Honesty made up for it in the short valleys. It was like sitting in the captain's seat aboard Nocturnal Runaway. She glided over the course under control and full of energy. Her ears flicked over her head as though she was just out for a jog. She was a confidence instilling creature. Beautiful and talented. He let his hands skim down her sleek neck, smiling as she kicked up the final hill of the gallop. It was almost time to let that passion burn. And there was passion, a big bucket that wanted to wash away the competitors. Justin let the filly skip down the hillside after her opponents, letting her have her head. She charged off the hillside, pushing off menacingly and in a couple strides was up to Queen's Honesty. Laura's eyes grew grimmer, but Queen cleared them within a matter of seconds. The bay launched forward, spurned by the competition. She flew over the course, tail streaming behind her. The two fillies swarmed up on either side of Spotlight Pride, nearly stunning the runaway leader. The three horses soared over the course, head to head to head. It was a fierce battle for the line and no one was going down without a fight. Nocturnal Runaway and Spotlight Pride gradually turned away Queen's Honesty, more experienced over the rolling hills. Laura was impressed by Queen. She didn't fade hard. She still fought gamely even in face of defeat. Laura chalked it up to inexperience over the course. Pride gutted out a win, eyes furious that Noc had put him through an acid test. Who was she to suddenly be competitive with him? Few had managed to take him down and now this gray filly thought she could. Justin was happy with the effort for Noc had only lost by a head to the best turf miler two year old in the country. They were making strides and it was nearly time to make a claim for a win of their own. "It always seems like Ripley picks up a horse at this time of season, doesn't it?" Maggie asked as she watched Brooks go to the wall for her. The wall was a furious mass of bay filly and she was not having any part in the tacking up process. She'd tolerated the grooming and the wrapping, but the saddle and bit were crossing the line. Maggie's blue eyes took in the powerful mass of the daughter of Passionate Class. She was a furious wraith that did not belong to her turf sire. Rather, that fury was passed down through Carmilla, daughter of Night Stalker and Requiem. "Yeah, next time I need to check pedigrees out before I let her bring a demon spawn home again." Brooks gave last heave, slapped the metal hooks in place and fled the scene a moment before Miss Josephine's teeth would have caught him on the shoulder. Maggie smiled, patted Brooks' back. "Atta boy. You did good even though she doesn't think so." The grooms and stall muckers had been watching the entertainment with large eyes. As soon as Brooks turned to them, they scattered. Brooks chuckled. "Seriously. Ripley does go for a certain type." "And that type has carried me to more winner's circles as a trainer than any other line." Brooks and Maggie didn't even bother to wince. Ripley's voice was less cold than it had been earlier. Mostly because she would be riding in this set. The pair turned and smiled at the woman and her black mare. Cross watched them owlishly as if she hadn't decided if she liked them or not. Her affection for Ripley was remarkable and her intelligence was so reflective of how she behaved. The sharp black sprinter snorted at Brooks and Maggie, dismissing them as she always had. They hadn't impressed her so far. "We're going to do a mile gallop and three furlong workout. Test Josey and give Cross and Tabz a lung opener. Lots of big races coming up with the end goal being the Breeders' Cup." Reese sat patiently out in the yard, relaxed as much as she could be aboard a flighty gray thoroughbred. Taboo had settled down a lot over the course of the season. It struck Reese that this must have been what Cross was like as a two year old. Horror stories of Cross' screams still echoed among the grooms and riders. Taboo had been just as "crazy" and now she was miles ahead of where she had once been. The Forbidden Wings daughter stared off in the direction of the grassy hills, lost in thought with her left hind hoof cocked. What a difference nine months made. The other riders mounted up and jogged by to the dirt track. Tabz ears pricked in longing toward the hills, but she obediently turned when asked. The turf track was closed until April. Soon the dirt track would be as well and all workouts and gallops would be moved to the indoor synthetic track. Reese was eager to try the place out and pitch her turfers against Brookson and Ripley's dirt horses. The clash would be interesting to say the least. Miss Josephine moved with such intensity that Maggie already felt she would have to hold on to her helmet. The dashing bay filly twisted her head to and fro, assessing her surroundings with ferocious eyes. She snorted, fog billowing out of her nostrils and emphasizing the dragon-like look. Maggie couldn't wait to pit Miss Josephine against The Devil's Hourglass. That would be a sight. Two coltish fillies battling it out in full-blown glory. The horses moved into their gallops, Cross immediately assuming the lead. It was so fantastic how durable the black mare had been. She'd raced constantly over three seasons and had never lost an inch of speed. Ripley allowed the black mare to dig into the dirt a little quicker than usual. The star marked mare was quite interested in clinging to the rail. After all, it was the fastest and shortest route around the track. Taboo cruised behind Cross, ears pricked and eyes bright. She floated over the dirt track, really handling it with such professionalism. The filly had this pizzazz to her that was so striking. More would be expected of her as a three year old. This year was all about getting to know her quirks. Reese kept an ear out for Maggie's horse, uneasy of that one's reaction to running. But all and all, she was more than pleased with Taboo. Miss Josephine was an absolute handful. Maggie had the filly under a good strong hold and her arms were already starting to shake with the effort. The wild-eyed filly wanted to dominate her two opponents and she moved rankly. The whites of her eyes could be seen from the rail by Brooks. He just shook his head. They'd see if she had this much energy left at the end of the exercise. The Passionate Class filly wasn't liking the surface at all, knees lifting very high in reaction. She snorted like a freight train with every stride and it was so obvious that the fire burned within her. Maggie let out a notch, nearly was rocked backward when she leaped into the bit like a mountain lion. So the bay filly had instant speed. Quite impressive. Maggie took the hold up, bided her time. Cross My Heart rolled through the mile gallop with consummate ease. She used to only be able to handle a mile before she blew up and bolted. Now, she waited patiently, or a little more patiently, for Ripley's cue to gun it. The cobalt mare charged forward emphatically, putting another two lengths between herself and Tabbo in the blink of an eye. She switched leads and roared through the turn. Ripley thanked her brain for reminding her to grab goggles. Her eyes would have been icicles by now. Reese guided Taboo off the rail and released her. She smiled when the gray roan smoothly transitioned into a faster pace, fluid as a swan. The Forbidden Wings filly pinned her ears into her waving black mane and commenced a stunning bid. She was a bloody fast filly when she wanted to be. She had unexpected power and strength beneath that beautiful coat. Reese ducked low on the filly's neck as they straightened up and pursued Cross down the stretch. The black demon was virtually uncatchable so that workout was more for Tabz benefit of the chase than the actual victory. Maggie let out a violent breath as Miss Josephine pounded the ground beneath her. The bay filly had demanded release and now she was roaring after the other horses. Her body glistened with the effort and she looked absolutely fierce from Brooks' point of view behind Taboo. Maggie was impressed with the Passionate Class filly. For her extreme dislike of the dirt surface, she sure was courageous in fighting it. She'd closed the distance between herself and Tabz with emphatic strides and now she was moving to challenge. Ripley pulled Cross up, cocking her head to glance behind her. Used to the trainer's tactics, Cross slowed to an easy going lope, ears facing back to listen. Ripley patted the mare's neck absentmindedly as she watched the action. "Definitely a nice filly," she muttered as she watched Taboo outgame the bay across the wire. The sleek filly looked surprised by her rival's fury, but even in the gallop out she refused to be passed. She was no longer an inexperienced juvenile. Miss Josephine was an outside threat and now Taboo had the resources to defeat her. Ripley nodded appreciatively as Miss Josephine rolled on despite Maggie's will. While she wasn't a dirt horse by any means, it was nice to see a spirited champion. One day, perhaps, Miss Josephine would be the champion Ripley thought she could be. Until then... she would be working her way up to that stunning point. The clear morning air was a welcoming touch for Justin Santiago. His apartment was in need of a drastic going over. He hadn't been able to clean it in such a long time because of the hectic schedule at Witch Creek. They had downsized and then upsized and continued to upsize. Ripley was notorious for horse trading and dealing. Some horses came back and some didn't. Only one had in the recent dealings. Popcorn Blitz. The chestnut stud was raucous as ever. Even now, Justin could hear the blaze faced stallion picking a fight with In Front. At least someone was giving In Front a little exercise. The big bay was on resting duty and being a horse duty. Until Ripley was satisfied he was "horse enough," the Touch Up colt was out of training. Justin expected him back by the end of December. In Front would grow tired of being just a horse. True runners always did. The kid stepped into the barn and felt a rush of warmth on his skin. Winter was here and so were the heaters in the barn. Twin nickers demanded Justin's attention from the section of cross-ties. Neither of the horses were his. Lethal Dose and Dirty Diana eyed him as though he were a piece of meat. The pink roan mare snorted, pawed the ground furiously, much to the chagrin of Brookson Wells. Justin's eyes widened as he remembered that Brooks would be subbing for Laura aboard Diana. Laura was sticking to Lethal Dose like a burr until she at least hit the higher levels. Laura was running a brush down Lee's satiny head. She raised her brows at him as he jogged past. "A little late, aren't you? Good thing I got your demon mount ready for you." Justin slackened his pace considerably, sighing gratefully when he spotted Sultan tacked up. His smile of gratitude dimmed when Ripley turned the colt around. "Well, hello, Justin." Her voice was chilly, but her eyes were warm as they swept over him. She was a woman of many talents. "Fancy seeing you here for your horse's workout set." "Yeah... fancy that." He blushed when the woman slapped the leather reins into his gloved hand. "Thanks, Ripley." She shrugged as she left. She suffered no fools, especially during her pregnancy. Brooks flashed Justin a small smile. He knew how those bracing words felt at 5:30 A.M. Not good. At all. Brooks patted Ripley's back as she bowed to check out Diana's wraps. "How's she look?" he asked, brushing off the previous chill. Ripley stood slowly and yawned. "Pretty good. She's fit enough to come back to work. Definitely needs this outing. She's been overeager in her workouts. I can't wait to get her on the turf track. She really exploded in her last start before the layoff. Should have tried the grass sooner." Laura snickered as Ripley moved to Lee. "Well at least we know Lee will never prefer the grass." Ripley chuckled, adjusted a strap on the wrap. "Always a bonus. She's a pretty good dirt horse anyway. No need to change." "I need a six furlong breeze from them. Open their lungs, but do not let them fly. No need to overdo it." The riders nodded and mounted up within the barn, grimacing as the winter breeze slapped them through the open doors. Sultan let out a whistle, lifting his head into the cool air as though it were paradise. Justin twined his hands into the dark colt's mane, happy he had a furnace beneath him for the morning's workout. The colt pranced enthusiastically after his counterparts. This was the happiest Sultan had ever been in his entire career with Witch Creek. He'd already been settled in and he still was downright miserable, but something had changed so that he was less miserable to be around. The powerful animal strutted out onto the dirt track, tossing his head and kicking up his hooves. "Easy, boy. Easy." Lethal Dose bolted into a gallop the minute Laura released the reins. The bay daughter of Lethal Knack was as powerful as they came with a short-fuse personality to match. She settled into stride quickly heading toward the first turn, ears pricking. Laura tucked her fingers into the whipping mane, letting the piercing wind have its way with her. Winter was never a fun season. Never would be a fun season. Brooks let Dirty Diana move into her gallant stride before he took up on the reins at all. She was a powerful mare, had grown more so as the season had progressed. Her times were improving with every race and she was just at the precipice of grade one action. Things would get a hell of a lot tougher from here, but her performances were finally living up to all of the early billing. The large mare flitted over the course, tracking the strong colt and the rangy filly. She had maturity and experience on these two. A queen among peasants. Sultan pulled the reins through Justin's hands, defying as much control as he could. The kid kept a stern grip and jerked the bit out of teeth more than once. Dirt was definitely Sultan's preferred surface. He got better traction over the dirt than the turf. Yet, he was still good enough to win on the turf. The recently crowned grade four two year old would be making a surface switch after a very profitable early season. Such a move was unprecedented, but when you were working over the prime stuff, you switched for full benefit. The colt coasted through the backstretch, ears sliding back into his mane and eyes becoming brighter as he realized they would get to open up in the stretch. Justin kept a keen ear out for Lee and Diana. Both horses were awfully clever and tough. Neither gave an inch when it came to racing. And Lee was especially sharp right now. Laura guided her bay three year old to the outside of Sultan for prime space. Lee was really swallowing the dirt like nothing today. She had a solid stride and a heart as big as the country. She was courageous in defeat and today she would be out for the victory as she had lost her last time out. Sitting on the edge of grade three, the bay was moving up with impressive precision. Today was the beginning of her final months as a three year old. Diana was stalking the younger two with a predatory expression on her face. She'd enjoyed the time off, but she hadn't forgotten her calling. The All For Glory mare ate up the ground into the far turn and prepared to run her opponents into the ground. Sultan's ears locked back against his neck when Lethal Dose moved up to challenge. The bay filly was an intimidating opponent to most, but she'd find no easy mark in Casualty of War. Laura pumped a little with her hands, found the gear she'd been looking for and settled down for the ride. The pair of horses battled strongly down the stretch, locked in impressive battle. Brooks chirped to Diana halfway down the lane, grinned when she skipped over Casualty of War's heels and gunned up the inside lane. Casualty of War had made a beginner's mistake by coming off the rail to engage Lethal Dose. The big gray mare was more than willing to take advantage of the slip. He'd timed the winning move correctly and the opponent. Sultan looked furious when the gray shot under the wire first, but not nearly as furious as Lee who had seen Dirty Diana only too late. It was almost time for game time. The riders could hardly wait. "I know she isn't your usual surface choice, Mags, but she's got the kind of temperament you want." Ripley paused carefully, green eyes shifting from blonde woman to gray filly. Mal and her had made careful decisions about riders and horses, but she'd known this rider would need some persuading. Maggie was a turf specialist who had ridden the likes of Flawed Princess and Paranormal Hunter. Swing Dancer was anything but a turf specialist. However... She had the "IT" factor. Ripley Marsh was counting on that factor to get through this murky water. "You mean, no one else wanted to work with her," Maggie grumped as she watched Malcolm tighten the saddle on the furious filly. Brooks practically was holding the filly to earth every time she attempted to defy gravity. Popcorn Blitz' fleeting personality had definitely passed on to this sassy creature. She saw him in every single move the filly made. Swing Dancer's bright eyes flashed with insult when the men finally had the girth tightened to their satisfaction. "You rode her father, Mags. You know the family well. Don't you want to be on his first daughter?" Maggie bared her teeth at Ripley. It was not a friendly smile, but Ripley called it progress. "There was a reason Popcorn Blitz retired as a grade four," Maggie huffed. She reluctantly followed the group out of the barn, blue eyes muddled with her thoughts. She didn't like Danny one bit. The gray filly had this jealous, spoiled attitude that came from being raised somewhere other than Witch Creek. The horses at Witch Creek were athletic and focused. Danny was athletic, but she definitely wasn't focused on racing. Mal patted the faded white marking on Danny's face, smiling when the horse huffed. "Like rider, like horse." He smirked. "It won't be that bad, girl. You'll see. You'll like having a job and getting away from me. Maggie's much easier to deal with, but I can't say the same for you." The dappled filly had been the toughest nut to crack on the entire yearling roster. Even Awestruck had been easier to break to saddle. For True, it had been fear ruling her head. For Danny, it was pure stubborn childness. Ripley gave Maggie's shoulder one last pat before motioning to Brooks to give the blond a leg up. Swing Dancer looked coquetishly in Maggie's direction, the sparkle in her eyes giving her away. Mal hissed when the filly threatened to bolt sideways, stopping the trouble-making decision all together. He wasn't sorry to toss this one in Ripley's court. "One mile gallop, Maggie. Open her up the last furlong down the stretch." Maggie nudged the filly down the dirt path, grudgingly admitting that the filly had a nice stride. She was big for a filly of this age. Nearly sixteen hands with a big athletic shoulder. She was muscular like Popcorn Blitz with a stout forehand and a lean backend. Swing Dancer was athletic and efficient and she moved like a Queen among Princesses. Her ego apparently was as tall as her frame. Maggie let the filly move into a trot through the gap, impressed with the way she moved into action. She was smooth, a little hot headed, but that was to be expected. Mal nodded after Danny as she trotted along. "Maggie's opinion of her will be changed. She may not have an endearing personality, but she's a great mover. We'll see if she runs as fast as she looks." Ripley agreed with Mal's assessment, having watched the gray grow up over the last year. Damage had been done in the personality area, but her parents had definitely set her up for that weakness. Popcorn Blitz was still notorious for being nefarious. "She's a smooth mover to say the least." Maggie nudged the filly into a gallop, leaning close to her withers despite the filly's head high carriage. Danny cruised over the course, ears pricked and eyes scanning the immensity of the track. Her legs covered the ground impressively and she really skipped over the dirt. It was as though she was floating. Maggie guided the filly to the rail around the turn, impressed when she flicked to the correct lead without much movement. Maggie tightened her hold on the reins, blue eyes sharpening when Danny began to pick up the pace. "She moves like Siri," Reese commented from down the rail. "Quicker with every furlong. That's dangerous." Mal lifted an eyebrow at this, but didn't question it. Reese was an amazing tactician. She had a clock in her head and knew almost down to the second in time. He didn't need her meticulous eye to see the same thing though. Danny was cruising without much effort. Maggie let the filly step out around the far turn, appreciating the extra zing. Danny switched leads back in the stretch, demanded rein and left a whirlwind of dust in her wake. Her legs blurred beneath her as she rallied down the lane, stretching out that elegant neck to gain the most body advantage. Maggie leaned close, not bothering to encourage her for more. This workout had definitely been impressive. Definitely worth the spoiled attitude. Maggie carefully reached down with her left hand, patted the filly's neck as she dashed through the wire. No way was anyone finding out how much she liked this filly. "Good :10 second furlong," Reese called. Her interested had reached a peak. They'd never had a dirt sprinting specialist that was a filly before. Perhaps this one would be that filly. "So we're taking on the dragon before the lambs?" Brooks questioned as Mal stepped out of the stall. The man's brilliant white teeth flashed in the dark at Brooks' snarky comment. "Might as well start with the toughest horse and work our way down. Besides, it's not like you've got anything better to do today." The blond man snorted at that. "I could be in bed snuggled up next to the fireplace and Ripley." Mal laughed, reached into the stall and grabbed a hold of the occupants bridle. "This one'll put some fire your belly as well." Mal pushed the stall wide, but refused to budge an inch from the opening. It was a thing they were working with this particular yearling. There wasn't a pushier yearling in the bunch than this one. It was in her lines to be so and she more than lived up to them. Brooks and Mal eyed the filly as if she were a bomb about to go off. Her eyes kindled with a liveliness that was hard to replicate and sparked with a danger rarely found in a horse so young. Her body glowed like a candle in the morning light, dapples catching here and there over her rump. She had been galloped religiously for the last couple of months and her muscles were to die for. Easily stronger than most fillies, Enrapture looked more like a colt. It was a family trait. "You know..." Brooks mulled. "I'm glad Ripley isn't wrong in this case. She's a nice filly to look at." Mal hummed in agreement. "You've been on her in her gallops. You know she'll be even nicer to ride. Today's gonna be that first important breeze. We'll find out what she's got for us and I think we both know what's going to be there." "Doesn't hurt to test it," Brooks said. Mal lead the brilliant bay filly from her stall. Her eyes blazed into Brooks and she seemed to personally challenge him. She was something else this Furious Passion filly. Something different than he had ridden before. He'd ridden great horses. Frozen Motion was great enough to be a Champion at The Wire and Sun King was well on his way. But Enrapture... There was just something that made him stop and think about what could be. He reached out a hand and laid it beneath her black muzzle. The filly eyed him first, measuring him before touching her nose to his palm in arrogant greeting. He could say he felt a chill creep up his back, but Mal wouldn't know what to say to that. It was very unmanning to say a yearling filly created such feelings. What he didn't know was Mal was thinking the same thing. "Alright, enough bonding. Work." Before Brooks could say anything, he was hurled aboard the 16 hand filly and out of the barn. "Tuck those feet in the stirrups, Wells, or you aren't going to be in the saddle long." The power beneath him caused the blonde man to obey. Enrapture bowed her neck, touched her chin to her muscular chest and pranced down the path. The remaining jockeys, staff and Ripley lined up at the fence rail. Ennie was by far the most far along in her training. Everyone was interested in what this particular horse could do. Mal and Brooks were near bursting with pride, imaging the vision that Ennie created. Black mane waving around her head, Enrapture looked every inch the daughter of a Triple Crown winner. She passed through the gap, ears pricked and tail carried high. Brooks let out a breath, turned the filly and waited for instructions. "Awfully impressive," Ripley sighed as she approached. The green eyed woman smiled. "She would have been my mount so you better treat her right, Brooks." The loss of a chance to ride Enrapture picked at Ripley still, but she'd come to settle with it. She had to keep this baby and now was right time to bow out. With Mastermind and Cross. Saint and Hourglass would fair fine without her. They weren't dependent on their partnership. They were just really good horses who knew how to get the job done. "Go a half mile gallop and let her breeze three furlongs starting just before the turn and finishing past the wire." Brooks nodded, turned Ennie again. The filly snorted as wind buffeted her savagely fine head. She jogged with grace down the outside fence-line before moving into her fine canter. She had a presence to her that was indescribable. Brooks rested his hands at the filly's withers, only guiding her to the center of track when they moved into the first turn. She picked up the pace gradually until she was galloping parallel with the ground. Her mouth played on the bit even as her black tinged ears remained pricked. For such a fiery filly, she was a patient one under saddle. She cruised instead of demanded. They passed through the remaining two furlongs with ease, Brooks loosening the reins notch by careful notch. Now the filly really picked it up, stretching her neck as far as possible and simply skipping over the dirt. Brooks let out breaths, feeling as though she wasn't going that fast enough to be a breeze. Unwilling to ask more, Brooks kept his poise into the turn. Ennie grabbed at the bit in the middle of the turn, almost pulling Brooks from the saddle. Her legs flew beneath her as she picked up the other lead. Brooks wound the reins and flying mane in his hand, stunned speechless by this rush. Yet... it wasn't really a rush. She was such an effortless mover that they were in the turn and she was still just as strong. Ears pinned, Ennie battled the driving wind in the stretch. Her muscles contracted and released with every impressive stride. And Brooks had yet to move a muscle. When she drove through the wire, she was doing it all on her own. A knife couldn't have cut the buzzing tension on the rail as Ennie rolled into the first turn. "Was that a breeze, Mal?" Ripley asked, eyes not leaving the filly as she bulled into the backstretch, fighting Brooks' restraint. "Clock says it wasn't..." Mal grunted. The filly had left an impression as deep as her hoof print on the ground in his brain. Graceful as she was, it didn't even look like she'd been running fast. Time didn't lie and neither did :34 3/5 seconds for a three furlong distance. She'd been flying and she hadn't even been tested. "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. "It is possible that we have the best two dirt colts, outside of Great Revenge, in the country," Brooks remarked as he tacked Sun King up for the day's workout. The chestnut stallion shown like a ruby diamond beneath his rough hands. The Native Flame and El Sol Del Mar colt truly was a gem. He was not brilliant like his older brother. Instead, the colt was described as monstrous. He was large and he was tough. He was a fierce competitor and the kind of horse that had enough talent to last years and still improve. Brooks adored Sun King. There was just something about the muscular colt that called his name. Perhaps, the unmarked creature, reminded him of Red Herring. Ripley patted Saint's neck as she stood from wrapping his legs in bandages. Saint was a glorious looking animal. Not as muscular as Sun King or as regal in the head. He had the head of a prehistoric colt, straight and broad. He had an honest look to him and he was an honest horse. Saint had his moments of bully attitude, but you had plenty of warning. He was a stubborn horse and he let you know when he was displeased. He was also one of the most courageous. He had the kind of nature that just pulled Ripley in. He reminded her of Cross and his half-sibling Hourglass. She had the same kind of never-surrender attitude as the near black colt. Saint would bull his way through holes that didn't exist, would just keep coming despite impossible odds and manage to win. He wasn't flashy, but he got the job done. Saint used himself harder than Sun King. His durability would increase with age and time. King had the naturally fast and natural lasting power from his dam. Saint needed a little rest to be nearly as effective. Times were changing though. Saint had grown a bit since his last start. He was larger in the shoulder and butt muscles. He had dapples and looked in good health. Sun King had faced Saint before in a workout, but this was a newer version. And improved one. "Could be, Brooks," Ripley said as she mounted. "But we still have to beat Great Revenge to get top colt honors. So time to get to work or we'll never achieve that goal." Brooks nodded, grinned when he'd settled into the saddle. King moved into his powerful work, flicking his tail in Saint's face as he passed. "No one's made you King of the Hill quite yet, chief." Saint bared his teeth behind King's back, not daring to bite with Ripley on his back. Sometimes the chestnut colt just made him livid. The near-black horse pranced beneath her, neck bowed and legs cocked in perfect dressage tradition. Saint was definitely a hotter horse these days. Perhaps that would equal more flying speed. The chestnut King led the way onto the track, prancing vivaciously until Brooks released him. With a flurry of movement, the son of Native Flame bolted into a gallop, snorting and bucking as he went. Brooks chuckled after he caught his seat, leaning close to the energetic creature. King was on his game, moreso than ever before. The blond man let the reins soar through his gloved fingers until the colt had reached the chosen speed. Less keen on bolting away, Saint strode into his fluid gallop, tossing his savage head into the air and looking every inch the Night Stalker baby. Ripley rested her hands at the colt's withers as he rumbled over the track, eyes blazing with joy. She'd have to give this up soon enough. Her career was coming to a close for a year after December. She'd miss it greatly, miss being apart of this dashingly handsome animal's journey. Sadness tinged her for a moment, but only until Saint put on a burst of speed and rounded up on King's outside. The pair powered through the first furlongs impressively, eyes lighting up with competitiveness. King loomed over Saint, but not as much as before. The near-black colt was full of inner rage. He was tired of losing and he equaled the black with his nemesis Great Revenge. Usually a mid-pack horse, the Night Stalker colt was bull-headed about running head and head with King. King, used to being dogged, gave it right back, with a fury that only came with his own frustrations. Ripley and Brooks sat still as stones in the saddle, inwardly impressed with both colts' performances so far. King still held the advantage by a neck as he rolled into the homestretch, but Saint was relentless in his rally. The near black colt hit another gear upon switching his leads, almost overwhelming King. A nose in front, then a neck, but it didn't last. Brooks felt the eruption beneath him and grinned. King launched forward, digging in with a monstrous effort. Saint retaliated and would not give in, would not wave the white flag. The pair stormed across the wire, head and head in a tremendous display of stamina and speed. Both riders stood in their stirrups after the finish, blazing smiles overtaking their faces. Great Revenge was the big horse from now, but King and Saint could only improve from here. There were many things occupying Ripley's mind as she was crouched over her papers in the office. The baby, her imminent retirement, Mastermind and Cross' imminent retirements, and the success her barn was having as a whole. There seemed to be every year when two horses could seemingly carry the barn to success. Last year, it had been Frozen Motion and Bella Luna. This year, it was Mastermind and Bella Luna. Times always seemed to get rough in September and October for Witch Creek. It wasn't because of the lack of training or determination to get those wins. It was everyone else catching up and pushing WCS' horses to raise the bar even higher. A knock sounded on her door, drawing Ripley's cloudy gaze up. She met the eyes of her assistant trainer Brookson Wells, smiled. "Hello, Stranger." He grinned, "Stranger, yourself, not me. We've been looking for you since you worked Saint this morning. I figured you were in here doing thinking or diabolically planning the demise of everyone at the Breeders' Cup." She laughed, as she only could with Brooks. "Well... I'm sorry to disappoint you about the diabolical planning. I was really just thinking that we need to step it up. The barn seems to be in a little bit of a funk and I want us to get out of it." Brooks laid a hand over Ripley's, "We'll get out of it, don't worry. We've got a damn solid barn right now." She nodded. "And we've got some super stars in our older horse ranks." Brooks pulled the woman to her feet, eyes sweeping down to look at her stomach. You could hardly tell she was pregnant, but that pregnancy changed both of their lives immensely. Suddenly, his energetic girlfriend was tired and more interested in relaxing than working. He could hardly blame her. Morning sickness was relentless for Ripley and he felt terribly for being the cause. "Yes, we do. Maybe Amarillo Sky will further our dominance along?" "I hope so," she murmured as she stepped into the barn hallway. Her office was in the older horse barn. It's description had changed with the aging of her first real classy crop. Mastermind, Bella Luna, Cross My Heart. Three of the four biggest names to step through her doors were housed here. It'd gone from a yearling barn to a two year old barn to a three year old barn and now the senior barn. Ripley was going to have a hard time letting go of these three, especially knowing the rewards they would bring upon the conclusions of their utterly impressive careers. Reese clucked her tongue against her teeth as she tightened Bella Luna's girth. The near white mare always shook like a dog every damn time she was tacked up. It was as though she knew how to push Reese's buttons and also knew that Reese could never get mad at her. The black maned and tailed mare was simply one of the greatest turf horses to set hoof on a racetrack. No thoroughbred had ever won the Turf Triple Crown. No thoroughbred had swept the Full Moon Derby, The Twilight Stakes and the Dream Cup. Next up was the Continental Cup and Bella Luna simply looked unbeatable. The slow start to the season was long forgotten. The great gray mare was on her game and Reese couldn't wait to say, "Game On." The bay stallion watched Bella Luna with peaked interest. He pawed the rubber mat with fury, his eagerness to be on his way showing in every muscular twitch. The Augusto son was piping hot right now, on and off the track. He'd lost to Loud And Clear while in her preferred distance of eight furlongs. It'd been a bit of a reach, but he hadn't shamed himself. His performances were really excellent right now. Amarillo Sky was turning into a big horse and Brooks was excited to be along for the journey. "Alright, let's do mile gallop with a three furlong breeze. Don't get on them too heavily as both of them have been racing consistently. Just maintenance today people." Ripley patted Bella's shoulder as she left the barn and climbed into her golf cart. A second later Bella Luna and Amarillo Sky followed. The big bay stallion towered over the mare in physique, but she had this different kind of aura. She simply glowed and looked every inch the commanding creature she was. Reese allowed the mare to step into a jog, relishing in the sweet way she moved. Bella was a different kind of classy. Amarillo Sky moved into his canter with a ferocious bound. It was as though he could sense this was a different ball game. He'd been facing horses less skilled in battle, certainly less fast or brilliant. Bella Luna was the cream of the turf roster and he was going to have to step up his game. Brooks allowed the animal to stretch into a long gallop stride, impressed with the horse. Rillo had always been the kind of horse to roll right along as though he'd never get tired. Brooks twined his fingers into the horse's mane when he launched over the hills. He was moving so easily and perfectly. Bella Luna tossed her head as Rillo bounded by without much effort. The dappled gray mare only settled back down when the dark horse cleared her. Reese crooned to the filly, calm despite the rush of excitement. Bella Luna was a confidence boosting horse. She ran as though everything came natural and was so simple. The gray mare tracked Rillo through the first mile of the gallop with easy grace. He never put more than three lengths between them. Reese could tell Luna would have a bit of a fight to get by him. The bay was obviously moving nicely at this stage. Boy, was he, Brooks thought as the horse cruised down the final hill into the three furlong stretch. The horse's ears were pricked like towers over his cranium until Brooks asked him for more. Like a shot, the large horse took off and stormed across the grass, kicking up clumps in his wake. The bay horse was devastating in full blown run, but could he outfoot a champ such as Bella? Reese was thinking not. The second Bella was turned loose the graceful gray roared after her darker colored counterpart. Amarillo Sky was practically mincemeat. The Sea Struck mare rolled right up alongside him as though closing into such fractions were cake. Reese sent a blazing smile at Brooks before nudging the mare on. With devastating ease, the dappled gray put the Augusto son away. Brooks slapped his jeaned leg in frustration, sure Amarillo Sky would toss in the towel. But he didn't. He picked up the pace with fury in his eyes and rage in his blood. He rushed after the mare through the second furlong, still in hot pursuit halfway through the third one. Bella would not be caught easily. Brooks couldn't help but think this would set Amarillo Sky up for a perfect winter season. Bella Luna shot through the wire a length ahead, ease betrayed by her pricked ears. Reese rubbed the mare's neck, smiling. They were going to go out with a bang. Brooks was thinking, Amarillo Sky was just starting off with one. The bay stallion threw his head in protest at being pulled up after running by Bella in the gallop out. Time was ticking and Amarillo was only getting faster as he aged. It'd been a while since the workout pairings had been switched up. Since last year really. Ripley was very particular against working two year olds against their elders, especially four year olds. Laura glanced anxiously down the barn row, eyes glinting. She'd hardly expected the list that popped out this morning. Nirvana and Casualty of War hadn't been the surprise. What had been the surprise was the third name. Mastermind. A name that was becoming more legend than reality, more reverential than down-to-earth. The lean Adonis that stood tied at the very end of the barn had only lost four races out of twelve starts this season. To say he was in his prime would be an understatement of a vast career spanning three seasons. The chestnut horse looked so athletic even now, poised and elegant with his gear on. He was a photographer's dream. Laura glanced at her heavy-set mount, smirked. She had a great face, but miss Nirvana would only ever be cute. It wasn't that Vana was dull or plain to look at. She wasn't. She had more muscle to her fore-hand than any other two year old on the property. She had a spark in her eye and a big enough engine to dismantle her opponents in the stretch. She was just the complete opposite of what Witch Creek normally housed. The powerful bay-black creature before Vana was exactly what Witch Creek normally housed. As one of the few Man O' War lined horses on the racetrack, Casualty of War stood out for his regal and old time breeding. Add in the dashing good looks, the epic temper and fury on the track and you basically got typical WCS. Justin took in the large expanse of his colt, eyes gleaming with excitement and pride. There was no better looking two year old than Sultan. He just had an edge above the rest. It was his maturity and his wildness that drew Justin like moth to flame. The colt just had the "It" factor. A winner of three races on the turf, Casualty of War was about to make a career switch. Ripley had suggested sending the horse to the dirt having seen how well he did over the dirt track at home. Perhaps, there was something there. Today would be Sultan's first test. It would be stiff and it would be interesting to say the least. Justin hoped that Ripley was correct in assuming Sultan's affinity for the dirt for it would take "greatest dirt runner to ever live" to take down Mastermind. Ripley kept her thoughts to herself as she tidied up the bandages on Mastermind's hind legs. The gleaming chestnut stud did his own talking and that was more than effective. Ripley stood, smiled at the two younger riders. Not that she wouldn't love taking the kids down a peg. She could ride just as brilliantly as ever, but she wouldn't be obvious. "Alright. We're going to have a solid workout today. It's time to let these guys roll and allow them to decide if they want to go to the Breeders' Cup or not." Laura and Justin exchanged glances, nervous. It was not quite clear if either of them would be granted the opportunity to ride in the Breeders' Cup this season. Those spots were becoming harder and harder to come by. Sultan was in greater danger than Vana of not making the Breeders' Cup. "...So I want a solid five furlong workout after a mile gallop up. Sultan can lead or settle wherever he's comfortable. Laura, do your best to stay close." The riders left the barn in silence, each pondering their next actions carefully. Justin knew Casualty of War wasn't a speed ball, but the horse seemed to naturally cruise along. Perhaps he would rate alongside Mastermind and actually keep the horse company for a change. Ripley was thinking along similar lines, a light furrow between her brows marking the thought. Laura mounted, but a smile was on her lips. Vana wasn't a show off in her workouts or races. She was a true-blue, hard-working grinder. There was no pizzazz, but there was a hell of a lot of blunt honesty. The colts bolted into their energetic gallops, muscles pumping beneath gleaming hides. Sultan's gaze was alight with fire and irritation when Mastermind easily kept up. The lean chestnut settled in at the rail, ears pricking despite the ominous presence of the Man O' War colt. The bay-black creature pushed head and head with the older horse for the entire first turn, really letting the older horse know he was there. Vana lagged along at the back, ears flopping back and forth on her skull. She wasn't a hard core runner like Sultan, definitely not a cunning animal like Mastermind. She lumbered along at her own pace, snorting through her nostrils as if she were really putting out a major effort. Laura could feel that she wasn't. The horse beneath her vibrated with energy and all of it was coming from the bay's hind end. The filly bowed her neck, flexing and showing Laura she was just pretending. Ripley peeked under her arm as Mastermind cruised down the backstretch, well within himself. Casualty Of War had fallen off of him after a little bit of chasing. It would be futile to chase a proven sprinter and hope to beat him at his own game. Justin sat still as a stone, hands idle at the near black's withers. He liked what he felt beneath him. The muscular colt hummed with energy. He was handling the dirt better than expected, skipping over it despite his size. Justin really liked what he felt a lot. He patted the colt's muscled neck, a grin touching his features. Mastermind rounded back into the backstretch, pressing into Ripley's hands. He was full of himself and Ripley felt like she was sitting on a keg. How much longer could he continue this string of amazing victories and powerful wins? No horse could keep this kind of resonating success for an entire year. He'd have to be something amazing and Ripley was banking on it. She had to. The end of the season was coming quickly. All of Mastermind's resources would be tapped by the end. Ripley ran a hand down the stud's neck, bolstering herself up. He was a good boy. Laura nudged Vana forward, chirping as she did to egg the filly on. The two year old responded with a punch of speed, enough to close the gap between herself and Sultan to three lengths. That got Sultan's attention. Justin barely had time to prepare himself before the colt made his bid for the lead. The black-bay colt swarmed up on Mastermind's outside, furious as a nest of disturbed hornets. Mastermind, caught unaware, repelled the bid with another gear and promptly cut the corner. "Of course," muttered Laura. Vana stuttered briefly when Mastermind cut off her hole, before moving between Sultan and the older horse. With a determined thrust, the blaze-faced filly bulled her way into the space. Sultan pinned his ears, cocked his head sideways as though he might savage her. Justin cranked the colt's head sideways, turned him front and set him down for the stretch. Laura took pride in her ballsy filly. Others would have been cowed by the obvious threat, but not Vana. She ground it out, eyes fiercer and darker than before. Sultan would pay for the insult. Vana became an immovable block in Sultan's way to get to Mastermind. The bay filly glued herself to the Man O' War colt like a flea and ran relentlessly with him. Frustration wafted off of Sultan as Mastermind skipped away to a length lead while he was preoccupied with Vana. Justin's curiosity was amped to the max. Few would have denied being impressed with the move Sultan had made on the turn. Perhaps the colt was a better animal on the dirt. It was no insult to lose to Mastermind as many had. Perhaps, he's better than I thought... Ripley patted Mastermind's neck as she watched the others finish up two lengths behind. That'd been harder than expected, but that was exactly what Mastermind would need going forward. Even legends could be beaten. It was up to the trainers to find ways to prevent such losses from occurring. |
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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