June Week Four Workouts
Flawed Princess, Cross My Heart & Feline Frenzy. Midnight Thriller, Mastermind & Ashes to Ashes.
seashell, seashell by the seashore
Courtesy of Event of the Year Photos.
Ripley was practically jumping at the bit herself to get going on the beautiful summer morning. It was not often that racing stables had to prepare for two major race series two weeks in a row. Year Thirteen had seen a massive jump in the number of races available at both Green Horse Fields and the Wire. As such, instead of just the dirt Seaspray Cup there was also the turf Seashell Cup. The Seashell Cup would be supported in full by Witch Creek, whom in recent times saw an improvement in their turf horses. This year they would be sending a grade one mare, a grade two three year old filly star, a rising grade three champion and a hard-luck mare who wanted to prove her name on the big stage.
The results would be representative of what some of Witch Creek's turf string would do later on in the Breeder's Cup. Of course there was plenty of racing in between to shift the string around to their best match of races. Ripley patted the neck of her cobalt mount, green eyes blazing with excitement. Cross My Heart, three year old superstar in the sprint division, would be taking on her elders for the first time at her prime distance of six furlongs. The recent Girl's Party winner needed the race as she had been itching to break the barn door down for the last week. Cross never got tired. Her fire never was extinguished. And because of this Ripley was confident that the black could give Sugar Jayde, top turf sprint mare, a run for her money. Ripley grinned when Cross snorted in agreement. She pawed the ground, twisted her silken neck to get a look at her competition.
Flawed Princess glistened like polished mahogany as she stepped into the sunlight. Her kind, wise eyes swept over her surroundings, her tail swished over haunches. Amira was easily one of the most beautifully conformed horses in this year's race string. She was also following in Screaming Mimi's hoofsteps when it came to mile-to-ten furlong races over the turf. She would once again face Infinite Warcry and the unbeaten Silent Fury in the grade one turf. She was out for blood this time after finishing second in the Summer Cup behind Silent Fury. Her rider, Maggie, was also out for blood. She wanted Silent Fury beaten, couldn't understand how the horse was so unbeatable. From the getgo Amira would be applying pressure. She would not let the Star Thoroughbred's stallion walk on the lead by himself. Sure it could tire them both out for the late charge of Infinite Warcry, but it was a risk that was not impossible. Amira bowed her neck as she strutted by Cross, taking the lead to the turf course. Cross snorted furiously, but Ripley reined her in.
Feline Frenzy, delicate as a doe, walked quietly behind Flawed Princess and Cross My Heart. She was the true Witch Creek representative this time around. She was the underdog, the fighter, the one that would change opinions with a heart-wrenching, speedy effort. Laura had all the pride in the world for her delicate, plain Jane filly. But this time maybe a win wasn't so far off. All Fee would need was a fast break and she would be able to settle into the perfect position on or just off of the lead. Their main competition in the six furlong race would be fellow front runner Prideful Limits who was currently training with New Flight Stable, a spin off of SOPS and WCS. Fee would be able to run with him for the six furlongs as fast as possible for as long as possible. It was just a matter of being able to hold the grudge with fury and intensity for the duration of the race. Laura stroked her gal's mane, blue eyes lighting with the possibilities. Her plain Jane with the spunky attitude wanted to get back into the winner's circle quite badly. And so did Laura herself.
The trio picked up a trot over the grass, all ears pricked, all strides up and excited. The three of them loved the turf course. Small, slim and agile these three horses were the best at handling the rolling hills of Witch Creek's stamina building turf course. Feline Frenzy snorted loudly with every exuberant stride, causing Cross to flash her teeth more than once and threaten to kick. Amira bounded over the springy turf not minding her grumpy and over-enthusiastic stable mates one bit. Just to run was good enough for the wise mare. Her muscles were taut beneath her shimmering hide. Her dark eyes grew brighter as the hills grew in size. Maggie laughed when she bobbed her head up and down, bit firmly planted between her teeth. Yes Amira... I know honey. We're gonna get going soon. As soon as the miscreants you call stablemates stop dawdling.
Ripley glared playfully at Maggie's back, sharp green eyes dancing with light. Maggie should no better than to tease especially when Cross was the live wire in the group. Ripley patted her filly's neck, admired the way her savage head lifted and her nostrils flared when the hills spread before her. Hey there Crossy girl. I know. Let's get 'em. Reins dropped, hooves dug into the earth, nostrils flared, ears pinned and then the world shook. Laura had reacted instantly at Ripley's last word, knowing she'd have seconds before Cross soared away on the wings she called hooves. Fee's little body had gathered itself in that moment, compact as ever as she broke into her gallop a half second before Cross. Amira quickly fell back to track in third, hooves faltering at the sudden movement from her stablemates. Maggie patted her mare, content to get out of the sprinters' way. Amira was meant for distance races and that was where she succeeded.
Cross zipped up to run head and head with Feline Frenzy at the crest of the hillside. Her dark eyes were wild with loathing and excitement. It was not often that another horse out-broke Cross My Heart. Not that Fee had really gotten a big jump on her, maybe a half-second. Feline Frenzy, however, was bolstered by that slight victory and she slid down the first hillside with confidence. Laura leaned forward the moment the plain bay mare hit bottom, eyes laughing when Fee pinned her ears at Cross. The bay mare was full of surprises today. She spread herself over the ground, flexing almost like a cheetah with her leg span. Cross galloped alongside, ears lost in her mane, but still looked effortless in her run. The black filly could run faster than anything else on the track, daring anything else to keep up and she still wouldn't reach her speed ceiling.
Amira galloped gracefully behind the dueling front runners, ears bobbing up and down with each long stride she took. The dark bay filly took her time over the course while maintaining a steady, cruising pace. She was not a hurtle-in-to-danger kind of mare. She was a steady-as-they-went-war-horse. Flawed Princess did not have a flaw at all in her run. She galloped along, focused, but not hyper-active. Maggie loved her for it. This was the kind of mount that she got along with best. They had two more furlongs to go before the final onslaught of the last furlong. Amira would be more than ready to make her move.
Ripley glanced under her arm to eye Maggie and Amira, briefly letting Cross have control. The cobalt filly settled into stride, still maintaining at least a nose lead over Feline Frenzy. Maggie and Amira appeared to be traveling comfortably over the firm turf. Amira would be dangerous to Cross in the final furlong. Amira was at the level of Sugar Jayde and maybe higher than Spitting Image. She would be a good test to Cross' mettle against older competition. The auburn-haired trainer returned her attention to the front when Cross reached the hill's crest. Only two and a half more furlongs from this point.
Laura tucked Feline Frenzy right back into Cross My Heart's barrel. Her little mare was breathing quickly from the beginning exertion, but a breather would set her up just right for the closing stretch. The bay mare took a deep breath, filling her chest cavity to maximum capacity. Her eyes lit up from the break though she did not move up to challenge Cross again quite yet. Laura patted her damp neck as they flitted through the valley. Fee snorted, ears playing overhead. The horses Fee would face in the Grade Three Sprint were nowhere near the level of Cross or Amira. Fee was just a little behind them in talent. She would be the favorite going into the race and hopefully she would get in the winner's circle. Her try hard attitude made her a big fan favorite at the barn and with her fans.
The trio dashed up and over the final hillside, Cross leading the way with her head held high. She let out a whistle at the sight of the expanse before her. All of them would be shut down in the first furlong of the three furlong stretch. Ripley let a notch out of the reins, allowing Cross to pick her way down the side to the best of her abilities. She danced over the course like the prima ballerina she was. The spotlight was always on Cross in every situation. She was always the target and she was the only horse that did well under that kind of pressure. Fee cantered to her left, nose tucked into her chest as she took in the footing beneath. Amira took one big breath, darted down on her butt. Her frustration was evident that two others handled the down hill slopes better than she did.
The second Cross touched down on the flat she was off and running. Her mane and tail soared behind her like black flame as she whipped over the turf course that was her domain. Feline Frenzy leaped the final foot of the hillside in order to keep up. She streaked after her flashier stable-mate, legs whipping beneath her, their stockings turning into a blur of blackness. Her black-tipped ears were lost in her neatly groomed mane and her determination was more than evident. Amira bolted the instant she touched ground, pushing mightily off of her hind end to go after the sprinters. She charged over the course, her hoof-beats warning drums to the others that she was indeed coming. Cross' ears flicked at the pressure to her left and the sudden threat to her rear. Ripley nodded, pleased. It was good that Cross was noting both of her competition. She was alert and ready for anything.
Feline Frenzy rushed up to run at Cross' neck, nostrils flaring with excitement and strain. She could not sustain this blitzing run, but she would break her heart trying. Cross no longer considered her the threat. All of her attention was focused on what was coming from behind now. The black filly was not waiting, but her ears were twisted to listen. She soared on, determined to put distance between herself and the big filly behind her.
Maggie gritted her teeth when Cross knocked Feline Frenzy's challenge back. The black filly was obviously loaded with more speed if she could beat back Fee not once, but twice. Amira chugged along now only a length behind Cross, drawing up beside Fee. The doe-like mare to her left was under urging to finish up because it was obvious that though she had not beaten Cross, she still had to finish the race. Amira left her behind with a flick of her full tail. Her eyes rested on the lone black figure ahead of her. She locked her ears back, pushed off of her hind legs and flew to catch the sprinter filly.
Cross lit up like a firecracker when she heard Amira pick up her highest gear. Her nostrils flickered and she let out a squeal in recognition. She picked up her feet, flew forward, noting that her race was not yet complete. But Amira only had one hundred and fifty yards left to get it done. Maggie shook the reins at her train of a filly, pushing her forward so that she ran with everything. This was the final furlong. Amira poured on the speed, galloping ferociously up to Cross My Heart's barrel. Her gaze was furious as she drove forward, trying to get to her stablemate with everything she had. Ripley did not move a muscle on Cross. Her raven-colored mount was trying hard now, finding a fresh competitor to deal with late in the game. But the race was as good as over. Cross bolted across the finish line a half-length in front, ears pricked and eyes wide with triumph. Amira went on, muscles rolling beneath her thick hide. She flew by Cross who squealed with insult again. Maggie let the dark bay finish out the next furlong, pulling her up before the third one began. Amira snorted, turned and trotted to face the victor. She bowed her neck to her chest and met Cross' angry eye with calm ones. Next time Amira would be ready for her.
Laura stroked Feline Frenzy's neck as the bay mare trotted up to Cross and Flawed Princess. She nickered enthusiastically, found her greeting returned by Flawed Princess. Laura smiled. Feline Frenzy was not a world-beater, but she was good enough to give it her top effort. Her top effort was all they would need to get the job done in the Seashell Cup.
The results would be representative of what some of Witch Creek's turf string would do later on in the Breeder's Cup. Of course there was plenty of racing in between to shift the string around to their best match of races. Ripley patted the neck of her cobalt mount, green eyes blazing with excitement. Cross My Heart, three year old superstar in the sprint division, would be taking on her elders for the first time at her prime distance of six furlongs. The recent Girl's Party winner needed the race as she had been itching to break the barn door down for the last week. Cross never got tired. Her fire never was extinguished. And because of this Ripley was confident that the black could give Sugar Jayde, top turf sprint mare, a run for her money. Ripley grinned when Cross snorted in agreement. She pawed the ground, twisted her silken neck to get a look at her competition.
Flawed Princess glistened like polished mahogany as she stepped into the sunlight. Her kind, wise eyes swept over her surroundings, her tail swished over haunches. Amira was easily one of the most beautifully conformed horses in this year's race string. She was also following in Screaming Mimi's hoofsteps when it came to mile-to-ten furlong races over the turf. She would once again face Infinite Warcry and the unbeaten Silent Fury in the grade one turf. She was out for blood this time after finishing second in the Summer Cup behind Silent Fury. Her rider, Maggie, was also out for blood. She wanted Silent Fury beaten, couldn't understand how the horse was so unbeatable. From the getgo Amira would be applying pressure. She would not let the Star Thoroughbred's stallion walk on the lead by himself. Sure it could tire them both out for the late charge of Infinite Warcry, but it was a risk that was not impossible. Amira bowed her neck as she strutted by Cross, taking the lead to the turf course. Cross snorted furiously, but Ripley reined her in.
Feline Frenzy, delicate as a doe, walked quietly behind Flawed Princess and Cross My Heart. She was the true Witch Creek representative this time around. She was the underdog, the fighter, the one that would change opinions with a heart-wrenching, speedy effort. Laura had all the pride in the world for her delicate, plain Jane filly. But this time maybe a win wasn't so far off. All Fee would need was a fast break and she would be able to settle into the perfect position on or just off of the lead. Their main competition in the six furlong race would be fellow front runner Prideful Limits who was currently training with New Flight Stable, a spin off of SOPS and WCS. Fee would be able to run with him for the six furlongs as fast as possible for as long as possible. It was just a matter of being able to hold the grudge with fury and intensity for the duration of the race. Laura stroked her gal's mane, blue eyes lighting with the possibilities. Her plain Jane with the spunky attitude wanted to get back into the winner's circle quite badly. And so did Laura herself.
The trio picked up a trot over the grass, all ears pricked, all strides up and excited. The three of them loved the turf course. Small, slim and agile these three horses were the best at handling the rolling hills of Witch Creek's stamina building turf course. Feline Frenzy snorted loudly with every exuberant stride, causing Cross to flash her teeth more than once and threaten to kick. Amira bounded over the springy turf not minding her grumpy and over-enthusiastic stable mates one bit. Just to run was good enough for the wise mare. Her muscles were taut beneath her shimmering hide. Her dark eyes grew brighter as the hills grew in size. Maggie laughed when she bobbed her head up and down, bit firmly planted between her teeth. Yes Amira... I know honey. We're gonna get going soon. As soon as the miscreants you call stablemates stop dawdling.
Ripley glared playfully at Maggie's back, sharp green eyes dancing with light. Maggie should no better than to tease especially when Cross was the live wire in the group. Ripley patted her filly's neck, admired the way her savage head lifted and her nostrils flared when the hills spread before her. Hey there Crossy girl. I know. Let's get 'em. Reins dropped, hooves dug into the earth, nostrils flared, ears pinned and then the world shook. Laura had reacted instantly at Ripley's last word, knowing she'd have seconds before Cross soared away on the wings she called hooves. Fee's little body had gathered itself in that moment, compact as ever as she broke into her gallop a half second before Cross. Amira quickly fell back to track in third, hooves faltering at the sudden movement from her stablemates. Maggie patted her mare, content to get out of the sprinters' way. Amira was meant for distance races and that was where she succeeded.
Cross zipped up to run head and head with Feline Frenzy at the crest of the hillside. Her dark eyes were wild with loathing and excitement. It was not often that another horse out-broke Cross My Heart. Not that Fee had really gotten a big jump on her, maybe a half-second. Feline Frenzy, however, was bolstered by that slight victory and she slid down the first hillside with confidence. Laura leaned forward the moment the plain bay mare hit bottom, eyes laughing when Fee pinned her ears at Cross. The bay mare was full of surprises today. She spread herself over the ground, flexing almost like a cheetah with her leg span. Cross galloped alongside, ears lost in her mane, but still looked effortless in her run. The black filly could run faster than anything else on the track, daring anything else to keep up and she still wouldn't reach her speed ceiling.
Amira galloped gracefully behind the dueling front runners, ears bobbing up and down with each long stride she took. The dark bay filly took her time over the course while maintaining a steady, cruising pace. She was not a hurtle-in-to-danger kind of mare. She was a steady-as-they-went-war-horse. Flawed Princess did not have a flaw at all in her run. She galloped along, focused, but not hyper-active. Maggie loved her for it. This was the kind of mount that she got along with best. They had two more furlongs to go before the final onslaught of the last furlong. Amira would be more than ready to make her move.
Ripley glanced under her arm to eye Maggie and Amira, briefly letting Cross have control. The cobalt filly settled into stride, still maintaining at least a nose lead over Feline Frenzy. Maggie and Amira appeared to be traveling comfortably over the firm turf. Amira would be dangerous to Cross in the final furlong. Amira was at the level of Sugar Jayde and maybe higher than Spitting Image. She would be a good test to Cross' mettle against older competition. The auburn-haired trainer returned her attention to the front when Cross reached the hill's crest. Only two and a half more furlongs from this point.
Laura tucked Feline Frenzy right back into Cross My Heart's barrel. Her little mare was breathing quickly from the beginning exertion, but a breather would set her up just right for the closing stretch. The bay mare took a deep breath, filling her chest cavity to maximum capacity. Her eyes lit up from the break though she did not move up to challenge Cross again quite yet. Laura patted her damp neck as they flitted through the valley. Fee snorted, ears playing overhead. The horses Fee would face in the Grade Three Sprint were nowhere near the level of Cross or Amira. Fee was just a little behind them in talent. She would be the favorite going into the race and hopefully she would get in the winner's circle. Her try hard attitude made her a big fan favorite at the barn and with her fans.
The trio dashed up and over the final hillside, Cross leading the way with her head held high. She let out a whistle at the sight of the expanse before her. All of them would be shut down in the first furlong of the three furlong stretch. Ripley let a notch out of the reins, allowing Cross to pick her way down the side to the best of her abilities. She danced over the course like the prima ballerina she was. The spotlight was always on Cross in every situation. She was always the target and she was the only horse that did well under that kind of pressure. Fee cantered to her left, nose tucked into her chest as she took in the footing beneath. Amira took one big breath, darted down on her butt. Her frustration was evident that two others handled the down hill slopes better than she did.
The second Cross touched down on the flat she was off and running. Her mane and tail soared behind her like black flame as she whipped over the turf course that was her domain. Feline Frenzy leaped the final foot of the hillside in order to keep up. She streaked after her flashier stable-mate, legs whipping beneath her, their stockings turning into a blur of blackness. Her black-tipped ears were lost in her neatly groomed mane and her determination was more than evident. Amira bolted the instant she touched ground, pushing mightily off of her hind end to go after the sprinters. She charged over the course, her hoof-beats warning drums to the others that she was indeed coming. Cross' ears flicked at the pressure to her left and the sudden threat to her rear. Ripley nodded, pleased. It was good that Cross was noting both of her competition. She was alert and ready for anything.
Feline Frenzy rushed up to run at Cross' neck, nostrils flaring with excitement and strain. She could not sustain this blitzing run, but she would break her heart trying. Cross no longer considered her the threat. All of her attention was focused on what was coming from behind now. The black filly was not waiting, but her ears were twisted to listen. She soared on, determined to put distance between herself and the big filly behind her.
Maggie gritted her teeth when Cross knocked Feline Frenzy's challenge back. The black filly was obviously loaded with more speed if she could beat back Fee not once, but twice. Amira chugged along now only a length behind Cross, drawing up beside Fee. The doe-like mare to her left was under urging to finish up because it was obvious that though she had not beaten Cross, she still had to finish the race. Amira left her behind with a flick of her full tail. Her eyes rested on the lone black figure ahead of her. She locked her ears back, pushed off of her hind legs and flew to catch the sprinter filly.
Cross lit up like a firecracker when she heard Amira pick up her highest gear. Her nostrils flickered and she let out a squeal in recognition. She picked up her feet, flew forward, noting that her race was not yet complete. But Amira only had one hundred and fifty yards left to get it done. Maggie shook the reins at her train of a filly, pushing her forward so that she ran with everything. This was the final furlong. Amira poured on the speed, galloping ferociously up to Cross My Heart's barrel. Her gaze was furious as she drove forward, trying to get to her stablemate with everything she had. Ripley did not move a muscle on Cross. Her raven-colored mount was trying hard now, finding a fresh competitor to deal with late in the game. But the race was as good as over. Cross bolted across the finish line a half-length in front, ears pricked and eyes wide with triumph. Amira went on, muscles rolling beneath her thick hide. She flew by Cross who squealed with insult again. Maggie let the dark bay finish out the next furlong, pulling her up before the third one began. Amira snorted, turned and trotted to face the victor. She bowed her neck to her chest and met Cross' angry eye with calm ones. Next time Amira would be ready for her.
Laura stroked Feline Frenzy's neck as the bay mare trotted up to Cross and Flawed Princess. She nickered enthusiastically, found her greeting returned by Flawed Princess. Laura smiled. Feline Frenzy was not a world-beater, but she was good enough to give it her top effort. Her top effort was all they would need to get the job done in the Seashell Cup.
wave away your cares
Courtesy of Event of The Year Photos.
If these aren't the three best looking horses here I don't know who is, Lane said, glancing around from the back of her raven-wing colored mare. Midnight Thriller dipped her head down, chin touching her chest as she strode on the lead toward the dirt track. Power radiated off of her in a way that nearly made Lane want to jump ship. The mare was a monster on the rise if her recent gallops had anything to say about it. Her muscles bunched beneath her shimmering hide and her veins popped out all over her classic frame. The Night Stalker x El Sol del Mar mare was something to look at and she would get all of the attention she deserved in the Seaspray Cup. It would be her first start since the Unicorn Horn series and her first start back off the injury induced layoff. Lane stroked the mare's silky neck, eyes drifting away for a second as she pondered the race. It was heavily loaded with stalkers and front runners with only Lusitania's Soldier as the closer. Midtee would most likely settle into third letting Mercurial Magic and Immortal Flight have the lead for the duration of the ten furlong race. She could stalk. She loved to stalk. It was the perfect cat and mouse game in Midnight Thriller's book. She stalked even now down to the course, ears pricked forward and head held in a predatory way.
Ashes to Ashes strode alongside Mastermind, ears swinging back and forth with unease. He remembered Midnight Thriller, Brooks thought. There was no doubt about it. Ashes hated the coal black mare with a passion and if Ripley was telling the truth about her improvement, Brooks knew Ashes would be homicidal toward her. The blood bay stud danced anxiously on his feet, nearly lifting off of the ground in objection. His body pulsed with nervous energy and his dark eyes danced with fury. If he couldn't beat Midtee, he certainly did not want to be within ten feet of her. Brooks stroked his big horse's neck, sent a smile at Ripley who watched Ashes with cautious eyes. Mastermind's blinkered head twisted on his classically built neck as he tried to get a look at what was stirring Ashes up so badly. Ripley straightened him out, pushed him forward. More than willing to please, Mastermind spread his lean body out over the path, nearly catching up to Midnight Thriller.
The Boy's Party winner was on his toes these days. He had just put together two strong victories in a row with the Divine Stakes and Boy's Party win. He'd also won with authority when defeating two others in the Boy's Party. He was primed to take on long time rival Tears of Blood in the Seaspray Cup Grade Two Sprint. Especially because Mastermind was king over the dirt course at Green Horse Fields. Ripley grinned excitedly. Oh she couldn't wait to let Mastermind take up his cat and mouse games against In Stride Racing's closer. The lean chestnut pranced eagerly, ready for anything that Ripley threw at him. Brooks scoffed from behind them, You know why he is so ready to go? Ripley snorted, thinking that this would be good. He hasn't faced Midtee yet. Ripley laughed, patted Mastermind's neck. I think he can take her.
I don't know... Lane called from upfront. She feels ready to go. I don't even think I'll be able to keep up and I'm riding her. Ripley and Brooks narrowed their eyes at Lane's back, uncertain if she was bragging or actually telling the truth. Ripley rolled her shoulders in a shrug, let Mastermind pick up a trot the second he hit dirt. The Hall of Fame son bowed his neck as he passed Midtee on her outside. He was feeling good, moving with command and control. Midtee had looked fantastic first workout back, but Mastermind was too similar to the black filly to truly count him out. Ripley glanced over at Midtee when the cobalt mare trotted up to Mastermind's inside. Lane was having a ball, face practically glowing with excitement. What a good girl Midtee. The black mare snorted, flinging her hooves forward into a gorgeous extended trot. Maybe you'll be a dressage horse after being a mommy, but for now we're a racing horse. Midtee shook her head in strong disagreement. Lane could only laugh.
Ashes to Ashes picked up his loose swinging canter behind the black and chestnut. His head was angled to the inside, his ears locked on both of his competition. He moved like a freight train, snorting with every stride. Brooks could feel indecision warring within the blood bay horse. He wanted to go up to Midnight Thriller and Mastermind and challenge, but he was worried that he would not be able to back it up. Brooks knew he could. Ashes was a strong stallion. He had experience. He'd been on the war path in almost every race this year. To further back up his resume, Ashes had been running extremely strong times all season. He stepped up his gait into a gallop, sweeping up on Mastermind's outside and drawing attention.
Mastermind snorted with insult, gripped the bit between his teeth momentarily before relenting to Ripley's control. He simmered irritably for the duration of the backstretch at his choppy gallop. Midnight Thriller galloped to his inside with thrilling precision and grace. Her ears were pricked and she looked as though she were dancing, toying with the boys. Ripley could feel Mastermind tensing and now Ripley understood Brooksons' frustration with facing Midnight Thriller. She did something to her male counterparts that was indescribable.
Brooks glanced under his arm, swung a galloping Ashes to the rail and noted Midtee's behavior at the same time. She was unnerving, this dark mistress of the night. To everyone involved as well. He let Ashes gallop on a long rein, feeling the strength that surged beneath his gorgeous hide. The Crooked Fire stallion moved like nothing could stand between himself and the wire. His desire for victory was incredible and Brooks prayed that maybe a year had changed Ashes as well. Midnight Thriller would not find an easy competitor in Ashes to Ashes. Not this time around.
Ripley shook the reins at Mastermind, allowed him to draw away from the playing Night Stalker mare and closer to Ashes to Ashes. He kept Midtee locked down on the rail, boxing her in completely and bolstering his confidence tremendously. Ripley leaned close, stirred her hands enough that he was roused to run at Ashes' haunches, but shut him down when that minor goal had been reached. His ears went back to playing and he really began to spread himself out now. Ashes to Ashes was not an easy target to beat, but Mastermind was used to him. He knew how to read him. Midnight Thriller was a book he just couldn't decipher.
Lane's eyes narrowed when Mastermind and Ashes thoroughly boxed her in on the rail. However, Midnight Thriller did not stutter a step. She slowed her stride until it was convenient for her, but she did not get nervous. She was an odd mare, but she promised the world when it was asked of her. Lane relaxed, settled back and waited for the backstretch to come closer. They'd gone the full mile now and Midtee was ready for her five furlong close up.
Ashes to Ashes picked up speed rapidly when approaching the mid-point of the backstretch. His giant frame launched over the dirt, kicking up clumps right into Midtee's chest. His ears were lost in his mane as he cruised forward on legs made for this kind of high-speed running. Brooks remained silent and still, knowing that Ripley's plan to keep Midtee boxed in for as along as possible had been turned to dust. Ashes would not run to benefit Mastermind. He would run to benefit himself. The rider's blue eyes flashed when the turn came roaring closer and Ashes still had an uncontested lead. Mastermind was not challenging. Ripley's plans had changed when Brooks' broke the allegiance. Now she was going to move when Midtee moved. And now Ashes job to finish the workout had just gotten ten times harder.
Ripley'd cursed Brooks at first for moving when he had. Lane had instantly shot Midtee through the open hole and shoved Mastermind to the outside. Her cocky chestnut colt had been thrown off stride for one moment, stunned by the black mare's physicality. Ripley glared at Lane, but admired her ballsiness. Midnight Thriller dashed up to run just a half length behind Ashes and now Mastermind sat a neck behind her. He strolled along, forgetting the unnecessary roughness and took up his proper cat and mouse game. Both his targets were in front of him, both waiting to be conquered.
Brooks felt Ashes stiffen up moving toward the homestretch. He knew now that something had changed behind him. Either Midtee or Mastermind had made a move that had changed things. He took a breath, dipped his head down, glanced, then immediately straightened. Cursing under his breath, Brooks made a move he'd basically been pushed into. He sent Ashes flying. The stallion launched off his hind end so quickly and forcefully that Brooks nearly flew out of the saddle. He gripped the horse's mane, blue eyes burning and settled into the motion or pure late-closing speed. Ashes could run fast at every point in the race. He did not need to turn it off and on like Midtee and Mastermind. He could outsprint them and outstay them.
Lane let out a gasp when Ashes surged away by four lengths at the top of stretch. The big bay was absolutely thundering away from them with authority. Midtee's ears flicked suddenly, her first sign of unease, at the sudden surge of speed. Lane leaned close, lifted the reins and sent her black terror soaring. Ripley shook her head when Midtee flew by them in pursuit of Ashes to Ashes. Mastermind let her go by with ease, acknowledging the fact that her rider must have made the decision. Ripley let the black mare put a length between herself and Mastermind before Ripley set the Speed Demon colt down for the drive. He responded with a sharp burst of energy, bounding over the dirt course like a lion after his prey. Ripley was lost in her adrenaline rush, hanging on for dear life as Mastermind whipped up to run neck and neck with Midnight Thriller.
Brooks heard them coming, knew in a matter of moments they would be bearing down on his star pupil. Ashes surged away again, kicking into a new gear. No way would he let Midtee catch him. Lane gritted her teeth from aboard her black beauty, booted her forward with the strength her uncle would be proud of. Midnight Thriller charged up, broke down the distance between herself and Ashes, but could not shake the unrelenting Mastermind. The chestnut colt would not let her be rid of himself. He stayed even and steady, even when Ripley called upon for more. He knew the ticket to success was tracking the shadowy mare until the wire was close. Midtee flattened her ears in fury when she drew up to Ashes' neck and still was not rid of Mastermind.
Ashes, Midtee and Mastermind flew over the course in a straight line, spanning the three, fourth and fifth path of the track. Ashes would not give in and Midtee was flying as fast as her legs could carry her to beat him. But neither of the older horses could shake Mastermind. He stuck like a burr to them. When the moved, he moved. When they slowed to catch a breath, Mastermind drew back to play their game. Midtee blew through her nostrils, finding the challenge she would need to prepare herself for the Seaspray Cup. Ashes gritted down, fury filling his gaze that while he was not being beaten by Midtee, he was not beating her.
The riders urged their horses to give one more good effort. Ashes bore down. Midtee stretched her body out to maximum extent. Mastermind leaped forward, dark eyes full of knowing. Ripley grinned when the chestnut colt got his nose down just at the right moment, beating Midtee and Ashes to the punch line. Brooks grinned, proud of Ashes' effort, happy that the stallion would see that he was just as good as the others now, better than he had been at this time last year. The stallion snorted, bowed his head and pranced with pride. Lane glanced up, shook her head in disgust, but rode Midtee out past the milers and found that she had plenty of horse come Seaspray Cup day. The time was drawing near for the mare's debut. She could hardly wait.
Ashes to Ashes strode alongside Mastermind, ears swinging back and forth with unease. He remembered Midnight Thriller, Brooks thought. There was no doubt about it. Ashes hated the coal black mare with a passion and if Ripley was telling the truth about her improvement, Brooks knew Ashes would be homicidal toward her. The blood bay stud danced anxiously on his feet, nearly lifting off of the ground in objection. His body pulsed with nervous energy and his dark eyes danced with fury. If he couldn't beat Midtee, he certainly did not want to be within ten feet of her. Brooks stroked his big horse's neck, sent a smile at Ripley who watched Ashes with cautious eyes. Mastermind's blinkered head twisted on his classically built neck as he tried to get a look at what was stirring Ashes up so badly. Ripley straightened him out, pushed him forward. More than willing to please, Mastermind spread his lean body out over the path, nearly catching up to Midnight Thriller.
The Boy's Party winner was on his toes these days. He had just put together two strong victories in a row with the Divine Stakes and Boy's Party win. He'd also won with authority when defeating two others in the Boy's Party. He was primed to take on long time rival Tears of Blood in the Seaspray Cup Grade Two Sprint. Especially because Mastermind was king over the dirt course at Green Horse Fields. Ripley grinned excitedly. Oh she couldn't wait to let Mastermind take up his cat and mouse games against In Stride Racing's closer. The lean chestnut pranced eagerly, ready for anything that Ripley threw at him. Brooks scoffed from behind them, You know why he is so ready to go? Ripley snorted, thinking that this would be good. He hasn't faced Midtee yet. Ripley laughed, patted Mastermind's neck. I think he can take her.
I don't know... Lane called from upfront. She feels ready to go. I don't even think I'll be able to keep up and I'm riding her. Ripley and Brooks narrowed their eyes at Lane's back, uncertain if she was bragging or actually telling the truth. Ripley rolled her shoulders in a shrug, let Mastermind pick up a trot the second he hit dirt. The Hall of Fame son bowed his neck as he passed Midtee on her outside. He was feeling good, moving with command and control. Midtee had looked fantastic first workout back, but Mastermind was too similar to the black filly to truly count him out. Ripley glanced over at Midtee when the cobalt mare trotted up to Mastermind's inside. Lane was having a ball, face practically glowing with excitement. What a good girl Midtee. The black mare snorted, flinging her hooves forward into a gorgeous extended trot. Maybe you'll be a dressage horse after being a mommy, but for now we're a racing horse. Midtee shook her head in strong disagreement. Lane could only laugh.
Ashes to Ashes picked up his loose swinging canter behind the black and chestnut. His head was angled to the inside, his ears locked on both of his competition. He moved like a freight train, snorting with every stride. Brooks could feel indecision warring within the blood bay horse. He wanted to go up to Midnight Thriller and Mastermind and challenge, but he was worried that he would not be able to back it up. Brooks knew he could. Ashes was a strong stallion. He had experience. He'd been on the war path in almost every race this year. To further back up his resume, Ashes had been running extremely strong times all season. He stepped up his gait into a gallop, sweeping up on Mastermind's outside and drawing attention.
Mastermind snorted with insult, gripped the bit between his teeth momentarily before relenting to Ripley's control. He simmered irritably for the duration of the backstretch at his choppy gallop. Midnight Thriller galloped to his inside with thrilling precision and grace. Her ears were pricked and she looked as though she were dancing, toying with the boys. Ripley could feel Mastermind tensing and now Ripley understood Brooksons' frustration with facing Midnight Thriller. She did something to her male counterparts that was indescribable.
Brooks glanced under his arm, swung a galloping Ashes to the rail and noted Midtee's behavior at the same time. She was unnerving, this dark mistress of the night. To everyone involved as well. He let Ashes gallop on a long rein, feeling the strength that surged beneath his gorgeous hide. The Crooked Fire stallion moved like nothing could stand between himself and the wire. His desire for victory was incredible and Brooks prayed that maybe a year had changed Ashes as well. Midnight Thriller would not find an easy competitor in Ashes to Ashes. Not this time around.
Ripley shook the reins at Mastermind, allowed him to draw away from the playing Night Stalker mare and closer to Ashes to Ashes. He kept Midtee locked down on the rail, boxing her in completely and bolstering his confidence tremendously. Ripley leaned close, stirred her hands enough that he was roused to run at Ashes' haunches, but shut him down when that minor goal had been reached. His ears went back to playing and he really began to spread himself out now. Ashes to Ashes was not an easy target to beat, but Mastermind was used to him. He knew how to read him. Midnight Thriller was a book he just couldn't decipher.
Lane's eyes narrowed when Mastermind and Ashes thoroughly boxed her in on the rail. However, Midnight Thriller did not stutter a step. She slowed her stride until it was convenient for her, but she did not get nervous. She was an odd mare, but she promised the world when it was asked of her. Lane relaxed, settled back and waited for the backstretch to come closer. They'd gone the full mile now and Midtee was ready for her five furlong close up.
Ashes to Ashes picked up speed rapidly when approaching the mid-point of the backstretch. His giant frame launched over the dirt, kicking up clumps right into Midtee's chest. His ears were lost in his mane as he cruised forward on legs made for this kind of high-speed running. Brooks remained silent and still, knowing that Ripley's plan to keep Midtee boxed in for as along as possible had been turned to dust. Ashes would not run to benefit Mastermind. He would run to benefit himself. The rider's blue eyes flashed when the turn came roaring closer and Ashes still had an uncontested lead. Mastermind was not challenging. Ripley's plans had changed when Brooks' broke the allegiance. Now she was going to move when Midtee moved. And now Ashes job to finish the workout had just gotten ten times harder.
Ripley'd cursed Brooks at first for moving when he had. Lane had instantly shot Midtee through the open hole and shoved Mastermind to the outside. Her cocky chestnut colt had been thrown off stride for one moment, stunned by the black mare's physicality. Ripley glared at Lane, but admired her ballsiness. Midnight Thriller dashed up to run just a half length behind Ashes and now Mastermind sat a neck behind her. He strolled along, forgetting the unnecessary roughness and took up his proper cat and mouse game. Both his targets were in front of him, both waiting to be conquered.
Brooks felt Ashes stiffen up moving toward the homestretch. He knew now that something had changed behind him. Either Midtee or Mastermind had made a move that had changed things. He took a breath, dipped his head down, glanced, then immediately straightened. Cursing under his breath, Brooks made a move he'd basically been pushed into. He sent Ashes flying. The stallion launched off his hind end so quickly and forcefully that Brooks nearly flew out of the saddle. He gripped the horse's mane, blue eyes burning and settled into the motion or pure late-closing speed. Ashes could run fast at every point in the race. He did not need to turn it off and on like Midtee and Mastermind. He could outsprint them and outstay them.
Lane let out a gasp when Ashes surged away by four lengths at the top of stretch. The big bay was absolutely thundering away from them with authority. Midtee's ears flicked suddenly, her first sign of unease, at the sudden surge of speed. Lane leaned close, lifted the reins and sent her black terror soaring. Ripley shook her head when Midtee flew by them in pursuit of Ashes to Ashes. Mastermind let her go by with ease, acknowledging the fact that her rider must have made the decision. Ripley let the black mare put a length between herself and Mastermind before Ripley set the Speed Demon colt down for the drive. He responded with a sharp burst of energy, bounding over the dirt course like a lion after his prey. Ripley was lost in her adrenaline rush, hanging on for dear life as Mastermind whipped up to run neck and neck with Midnight Thriller.
Brooks heard them coming, knew in a matter of moments they would be bearing down on his star pupil. Ashes surged away again, kicking into a new gear. No way would he let Midtee catch him. Lane gritted her teeth from aboard her black beauty, booted her forward with the strength her uncle would be proud of. Midnight Thriller charged up, broke down the distance between herself and Ashes, but could not shake the unrelenting Mastermind. The chestnut colt would not let her be rid of himself. He stayed even and steady, even when Ripley called upon for more. He knew the ticket to success was tracking the shadowy mare until the wire was close. Midtee flattened her ears in fury when she drew up to Ashes' neck and still was not rid of Mastermind.
Ashes, Midtee and Mastermind flew over the course in a straight line, spanning the three, fourth and fifth path of the track. Ashes would not give in and Midtee was flying as fast as her legs could carry her to beat him. But neither of the older horses could shake Mastermind. He stuck like a burr to them. When the moved, he moved. When they slowed to catch a breath, Mastermind drew back to play their game. Midtee blew through her nostrils, finding the challenge she would need to prepare herself for the Seaspray Cup. Ashes gritted down, fury filling his gaze that while he was not being beaten by Midtee, he was not beating her.
The riders urged their horses to give one more good effort. Ashes bore down. Midtee stretched her body out to maximum extent. Mastermind leaped forward, dark eyes full of knowing. Ripley grinned when the chestnut colt got his nose down just at the right moment, beating Midtee and Ashes to the punch line. Brooks grinned, proud of Ashes' effort, happy that the stallion would see that he was just as good as the others now, better than he had been at this time last year. The stallion snorted, bowed his head and pranced with pride. Lane glanced up, shook her head in disgust, but rode Midtee out past the milers and found that she had plenty of horse come Seaspray Cup day. The time was drawing near for the mare's debut. She could hardly wait.