September Week Four
Bella Luna& Dazzling Dame. Red Herring& Fiery Touch.
Mastermind& Ashes to Ashes. Paranormal Hunter& Mourning Passion.
Mastermind& Ashes to Ashes. Paranormal Hunter& Mourning Passion.
universal dream
Courtesy of Event of the Year Photos.
Eyes grim, Reese noted all of the activity along the outside rail of the turf track. The press had finally gotten ahold of Ripley Marsh and they were as apt to let go as a crocodile would its prey. They wanted to see the Turf Triple Crown winner in action over her home course. They hadn't gotten a true look at her training sessions since that faithful week of the Belmont Turf Classic. Reese hadn't minded in the least. Bella Luna was performing well in the races that she should be winning. Wasn't that good enough for the hungry press? Did they have to know everything there was to know about the gray filly that had made dreams come true? Reese shifted her gaze downward, stroked the mixed gray mane that crested Bella's beautiful neck. The filly's ears were pricked at the full attention on the milling people.
Some held cameras. Others simply held phones big enough to stick in their pocket. A middle class family had been invited to get a look at the great Bella Luna. Their children were squalling as if they didn't understand the importance of the place they were hosted by. Reese glared at the ill-mannered brats. Bella snorted through delicate nostrils, shook her head in dismissal. Bella was as bomb proof as anything these days. She could care less how many people attended her workouts, milled around her stall. Reese was the one that had the problem.
Justin shouted for the fifth time at the top of the hill. "Reese open your ears!" Dame side stepped, rolling her eyes so that the whites showed. She was unhappy with the company. She'd expressed this fact by nearly biting the fingers off of the father in the middle class family. The mare's muscles rolled in a proud display as she trotted down the path to catch up to Bella Luna. The mare was performing fantastically at the top level of racing. She'd become the first repeat winner of the Just A Game Stakes at The Wire. She had never gotten the chance to compete in the Turf Triple Crown, a fact that never let Justin alone. If only she had been ready to face that caliber of a horse. Perhaps Freeze wouldn't have won the Kentucky Open and Belmont Turf Classic. Perhaps the name written on the trophies would have been Dazzling Dame.
"What Justin?" Reese snarled, guiding a now loping Bella Luna off of the dirt path and onto the turf grass which was now dimming to fall brown. Ever the professional even when surrounded by aggression, the gray filly danced along, head bobbing as if nothing were wrong. Justin held up his hands, eyeing Reese warily. "Ripley said a mile and three quarter gallop. That's it." Shock widened Reese's eyes, "Seriously?" Justin shrugged, nudging Dame to keep up with Bella's graceful strides. His burly mare snorted, pinning her ears in Bella's direction. Justin tapped her shoulder. She rolled her eyes and plummeted to the right, away from Bella Luna. Crazy mare. "Yeah, that's it. I'm thinking she'll want a racing gallop on the three furlong flat, but that's it."
"It's not like it will hurt them in the Continental and Universal Cups. Dame just came off a race and Bella's more than on her toes. Too much work would do more harm than good." Justin nodded in agreement with Reese's explanation of Ripley's behavior. He laughed as Bella and Dame floored it going up the turf hill. Or Ripley just wants to mess with them. Reese chuckled. She wouldn't put it past the head trainer at Witch Creek Stable to do such a thing.
Silence reigned over the humans. The autumn wind swept across the fields, causing chills to run down the human's spines. Dying leaves flitted across the turf as the filly and mare bounded down the hillside. Bella tucked her head to her chest as she collected herself up. She was training and riding like an absolute dream. She was perfect in everything she did. Reese stroked the filly's neck, so pleased.
Dazzling Dame rolled along like a freight train, hoofbeats thunderous in the otherwise quiet world. Justin's dark eyes were full of excitement as Dame came forward to light a challenge. Bella Luna's gaze darkened briefly, but the emotion moved away as quickly as it had come. Dame would not get to Bella Luna this time. Justin egged on his hardened, moving her into and away from Bella Luna as they cruised over the grass course. Dame's body was hulking mass of muscle. She seemed big and robust for such a stout filly. Her eyes flashed with challenge and fury. There would be Hell for the other horses running in the Continental Cup of Dazzling Dame got her way.
Dame was a quick breaker. She would break on top and either sweep to the lead or settle off of the confirmed front runner. Then it would be on. Dame didn't give mercy or take it. She would hound a horse from start to finish, burning through their receives, but not burning through her own. Justin was convinced Dame would have done damage to Bella Luna's Turf Triple Crown campaign had she been a three year old this year instead.
Reese could feel the cold calculation that was directed from Justin to her mount. Bella's ears flicked nervously for the first time today. Her head cocked sideways to analyze the negativity pouring off of the dark mare in droves. Reese talked to the filly, shaking her up and out of her anxious stupor. She glared at Justin, wanting to tell him to lighten up. They were a team for the moment. Competition would have to come later on.
The fillies galloped strongly over the hills, legs reaching out over the turf. Their muscles were oiled and ready to go. Bella snorted, nickering now, as she recognized her environment. The run was coming up. Her teeth jumbled the bit around in her small mouth. She became more forward, now running head to head with a restrained Dazzling Dame. Dame snaked her head at Bella Luna. Bella Luna ignored the Jessie James filly as if she weren't even there. She would get similar competition from the reigning Canadian Triple Crown winner Italian Ice in the Universal Cup. Reese patted the filly's neck. As long as Bella did not take the bait and run away she would do fine.
Dazzling Dame crested the final hillside first by the barest of noses. Her angry eyes immediately pricked up, her nostrils distended. She danced sideways nervously at the sight of the people alongside her usually empty field. It was the hesitation that gave Bella Luna courage. The gray filly trucked down the hillside, legs working in overtime to keep her balance and maintain speed. She wanted to beat Dazzling Dame into a pulp. Reese could do nothing but hold on and hope the filly did not continue her speed onslaught across the field.
Justin gritted his teeth, let Dame pick her way down the hill in the wake of Bella Luna. The burly mare was furious, her teeth chomped at the bit, but Justin was quicker than Reese. Maybe not quicker, but he'd expected such a response from his usually hot-blooded mare. The moment her hooves hit the flat, Dame launched like a rocket after Bella Luna. She made up the three lengths separating herself from the gray beauty in no time. Justin stood in the stirrups, telling her to relax. Dame tossed her head fiercely. She was supposed to run here! She had to run here! Had to crush Bella Luna. It was her job.
Reese was having similar troubles with an absolutely thunderous Bella Luna. The filly's eyes were rimmed with red and white. Her mouth flew agape in full out fury when Dazzling Dame charged up her left side. Reese's teeth were set against one another, giving her a headache. Come on Bella! Knock it off girl! The gray filly snorted, tossed her head and Reese finally got the break she was looking for. She snatched the bit out from between Bella's strong teeth and immediately regained control. The furious filly turned pleasant again. Her stride became classically controlled rather than hurried and desperate. Reese crooned to her in happiness. She was also slightly terrified. Bella had just exhibited behavior that she had never shown anyone before. She'd been flashing all out aggression and a need to pummel the competition. Was Bella Luna even at her peak yet? Reese shook her head. She didn't know. But they would all find out soon enough in the bigger races and as she continued her career.
Dazzling Dame flexed her neck muscles, stretching her head out as she ran alongside a now calm Bella Luna. The stout mare was content all of a sudden. Justin eyed Reese's mount. The three year old was relaxed and as confident in herself as ever. The emotion of the whole place had changed though in the space of the furlong and a half. Mare and filly rolled right along, clicking off quick, but not thoroughly impressive fractions.
Ripley glanced around as her horses glided through the wire. The press was humming, but there was disappointment reflected in their eyes. None of them were truly horse people. Her blood was boiling with excitement. They'd completely missed the flat out fury that Bella Luna had just shown. They'd missed the suddenly rocketing internal fraction. They'd missed her will to win coming alive. Ripley was practically rubbing her hands together openly. Dazzling Dame's finale, a grand finale,but a finale nonetheless, was coming quickly. The public knew how incredibly powerful the Jessie James filly was becoming. They had no clue such power was coming to be inside of the Turf Triple Crown winner.
The mare and filly crested the hill on their return journey. The riders were talking animatedly. Both of the horses were as proud as ever, arrogant as ever. Bella Luna's neck was arched, her strides prancing and proud. She looked the vision of a Turf Triple Crown winner. The first ever. A filly to do the feat no male had ever achieved. A girl leaned against the turf rail, gray eyes locked on the form of Bella Luna. She was class. She was history. She was most likely a future Hall of Famer. The girl's arms were bumpy with giant goosebumps and all the filly had done was gallop.
Ripley and the girl a hundred yards down the rail watched as Dazzling Dame bounded in a canter with authority. She looked incredible, a repeat winner of the Just A Game. Dame had remained static in her personality. She was roaring lava fountain ready to destroy the earth surrounding her. And yet she was fantastically gorgeous, powerful and beautiful. Ripley nodded to her riders, a smile lighting up her face.
She glanced down the rail and spotted the plain Jane girl watching the mare and filly with such intensity. Noted that the girl looked similar to her when she'd watched Merry Bay King strolling mightily down the stretch. Ripley watched the girl track the racehorses long after the others lost interest. Her parents touched her shoulder. She turned away with sadness in her gaze.
"Why don't you all stay for the next couple rounds of workouts?" Ripley called. The girl's eyes lit up with absolute excitement. Her parents' not so much. "We have refreshments and a television in the main office if you would like to wait for..." The girl grinned, "Kendall." Ripley smiled back. "Kendall." Her parents nodded. Her mom nudged her in Ripley's direction. "Red Herring and Fiery Touch are next. Let's go."
Some held cameras. Others simply held phones big enough to stick in their pocket. A middle class family had been invited to get a look at the great Bella Luna. Their children were squalling as if they didn't understand the importance of the place they were hosted by. Reese glared at the ill-mannered brats. Bella snorted through delicate nostrils, shook her head in dismissal. Bella was as bomb proof as anything these days. She could care less how many people attended her workouts, milled around her stall. Reese was the one that had the problem.
Justin shouted for the fifth time at the top of the hill. "Reese open your ears!" Dame side stepped, rolling her eyes so that the whites showed. She was unhappy with the company. She'd expressed this fact by nearly biting the fingers off of the father in the middle class family. The mare's muscles rolled in a proud display as she trotted down the path to catch up to Bella Luna. The mare was performing fantastically at the top level of racing. She'd become the first repeat winner of the Just A Game Stakes at The Wire. She had never gotten the chance to compete in the Turf Triple Crown, a fact that never let Justin alone. If only she had been ready to face that caliber of a horse. Perhaps Freeze wouldn't have won the Kentucky Open and Belmont Turf Classic. Perhaps the name written on the trophies would have been Dazzling Dame.
"What Justin?" Reese snarled, guiding a now loping Bella Luna off of the dirt path and onto the turf grass which was now dimming to fall brown. Ever the professional even when surrounded by aggression, the gray filly danced along, head bobbing as if nothing were wrong. Justin held up his hands, eyeing Reese warily. "Ripley said a mile and three quarter gallop. That's it." Shock widened Reese's eyes, "Seriously?" Justin shrugged, nudging Dame to keep up with Bella's graceful strides. His burly mare snorted, pinning her ears in Bella's direction. Justin tapped her shoulder. She rolled her eyes and plummeted to the right, away from Bella Luna. Crazy mare. "Yeah, that's it. I'm thinking she'll want a racing gallop on the three furlong flat, but that's it."
"It's not like it will hurt them in the Continental and Universal Cups. Dame just came off a race and Bella's more than on her toes. Too much work would do more harm than good." Justin nodded in agreement with Reese's explanation of Ripley's behavior. He laughed as Bella and Dame floored it going up the turf hill. Or Ripley just wants to mess with them. Reese chuckled. She wouldn't put it past the head trainer at Witch Creek Stable to do such a thing.
Silence reigned over the humans. The autumn wind swept across the fields, causing chills to run down the human's spines. Dying leaves flitted across the turf as the filly and mare bounded down the hillside. Bella tucked her head to her chest as she collected herself up. She was training and riding like an absolute dream. She was perfect in everything she did. Reese stroked the filly's neck, so pleased.
Dazzling Dame rolled along like a freight train, hoofbeats thunderous in the otherwise quiet world. Justin's dark eyes were full of excitement as Dame came forward to light a challenge. Bella Luna's gaze darkened briefly, but the emotion moved away as quickly as it had come. Dame would not get to Bella Luna this time. Justin egged on his hardened, moving her into and away from Bella Luna as they cruised over the grass course. Dame's body was hulking mass of muscle. She seemed big and robust for such a stout filly. Her eyes flashed with challenge and fury. There would be Hell for the other horses running in the Continental Cup of Dazzling Dame got her way.
Dame was a quick breaker. She would break on top and either sweep to the lead or settle off of the confirmed front runner. Then it would be on. Dame didn't give mercy or take it. She would hound a horse from start to finish, burning through their receives, but not burning through her own. Justin was convinced Dame would have done damage to Bella Luna's Turf Triple Crown campaign had she been a three year old this year instead.
Reese could feel the cold calculation that was directed from Justin to her mount. Bella's ears flicked nervously for the first time today. Her head cocked sideways to analyze the negativity pouring off of the dark mare in droves. Reese talked to the filly, shaking her up and out of her anxious stupor. She glared at Justin, wanting to tell him to lighten up. They were a team for the moment. Competition would have to come later on.
The fillies galloped strongly over the hills, legs reaching out over the turf. Their muscles were oiled and ready to go. Bella snorted, nickering now, as she recognized her environment. The run was coming up. Her teeth jumbled the bit around in her small mouth. She became more forward, now running head to head with a restrained Dazzling Dame. Dame snaked her head at Bella Luna. Bella Luna ignored the Jessie James filly as if she weren't even there. She would get similar competition from the reigning Canadian Triple Crown winner Italian Ice in the Universal Cup. Reese patted the filly's neck. As long as Bella did not take the bait and run away she would do fine.
Dazzling Dame crested the final hillside first by the barest of noses. Her angry eyes immediately pricked up, her nostrils distended. She danced sideways nervously at the sight of the people alongside her usually empty field. It was the hesitation that gave Bella Luna courage. The gray filly trucked down the hillside, legs working in overtime to keep her balance and maintain speed. She wanted to beat Dazzling Dame into a pulp. Reese could do nothing but hold on and hope the filly did not continue her speed onslaught across the field.
Justin gritted his teeth, let Dame pick her way down the hill in the wake of Bella Luna. The burly mare was furious, her teeth chomped at the bit, but Justin was quicker than Reese. Maybe not quicker, but he'd expected such a response from his usually hot-blooded mare. The moment her hooves hit the flat, Dame launched like a rocket after Bella Luna. She made up the three lengths separating herself from the gray beauty in no time. Justin stood in the stirrups, telling her to relax. Dame tossed her head fiercely. She was supposed to run here! She had to run here! Had to crush Bella Luna. It was her job.
Reese was having similar troubles with an absolutely thunderous Bella Luna. The filly's eyes were rimmed with red and white. Her mouth flew agape in full out fury when Dazzling Dame charged up her left side. Reese's teeth were set against one another, giving her a headache. Come on Bella! Knock it off girl! The gray filly snorted, tossed her head and Reese finally got the break she was looking for. She snatched the bit out from between Bella's strong teeth and immediately regained control. The furious filly turned pleasant again. Her stride became classically controlled rather than hurried and desperate. Reese crooned to her in happiness. She was also slightly terrified. Bella had just exhibited behavior that she had never shown anyone before. She'd been flashing all out aggression and a need to pummel the competition. Was Bella Luna even at her peak yet? Reese shook her head. She didn't know. But they would all find out soon enough in the bigger races and as she continued her career.
Dazzling Dame flexed her neck muscles, stretching her head out as she ran alongside a now calm Bella Luna. The stout mare was content all of a sudden. Justin eyed Reese's mount. The three year old was relaxed and as confident in herself as ever. The emotion of the whole place had changed though in the space of the furlong and a half. Mare and filly rolled right along, clicking off quick, but not thoroughly impressive fractions.
Ripley glanced around as her horses glided through the wire. The press was humming, but there was disappointment reflected in their eyes. None of them were truly horse people. Her blood was boiling with excitement. They'd completely missed the flat out fury that Bella Luna had just shown. They'd missed the suddenly rocketing internal fraction. They'd missed her will to win coming alive. Ripley was practically rubbing her hands together openly. Dazzling Dame's finale, a grand finale,but a finale nonetheless, was coming quickly. The public knew how incredibly powerful the Jessie James filly was becoming. They had no clue such power was coming to be inside of the Turf Triple Crown winner.
The mare and filly crested the hill on their return journey. The riders were talking animatedly. Both of the horses were as proud as ever, arrogant as ever. Bella Luna's neck was arched, her strides prancing and proud. She looked the vision of a Turf Triple Crown winner. The first ever. A filly to do the feat no male had ever achieved. A girl leaned against the turf rail, gray eyes locked on the form of Bella Luna. She was class. She was history. She was most likely a future Hall of Famer. The girl's arms were bumpy with giant goosebumps and all the filly had done was gallop.
Ripley and the girl a hundred yards down the rail watched as Dazzling Dame bounded in a canter with authority. She looked incredible, a repeat winner of the Just A Game. Dame had remained static in her personality. She was roaring lava fountain ready to destroy the earth surrounding her. And yet she was fantastically gorgeous, powerful and beautiful. Ripley nodded to her riders, a smile lighting up her face.
She glanced down the rail and spotted the plain Jane girl watching the mare and filly with such intensity. Noted that the girl looked similar to her when she'd watched Merry Bay King strolling mightily down the stretch. Ripley watched the girl track the racehorses long after the others lost interest. Her parents touched her shoulder. She turned away with sadness in her gaze.
"Why don't you all stay for the next couple rounds of workouts?" Ripley called. The girl's eyes lit up with absolute excitement. Her parents' not so much. "We have refreshments and a television in the main office if you would like to wait for..." The girl grinned, "Kendall." Ripley smiled back. "Kendall." Her parents nodded. Her mom nudged her in Ripley's direction. "Red Herring and Fiery Touch are next. Let's go."
fiery climax
Courtesy of Event of the Year Photos.
Kendall sighed reverently when Red Herring and Fiery Touch stepped out of the barn. She rose up from the bench, brushing her mouse brown hair away from her eyes. She was not an expert on thoroughbred condition by any means, but she knew what dead-fit looked like. It looked a burly, strong chestnut like Red Herring, winner of the recent Hollywood Gold Cup. It looked like the lean, mean title contender that was Fiery Touch, winner of the Ganymede Cup and Azeri Stakes. Kendall favored turf racing over dirt, but these two were the clear definition of dirt brawlers. She couldn't help but admire them.
Red snorted through his nostrils, eyes burning with fire and excitement. He strolled along as if king of the castle, pleased with himself. Brooks felt like a men among boys aboard this colt. Red Herring had grown magnificently over the two months he'd been off. He'd proven so in his powerful victory in the Hollywood Gold Cup. The chestnut horse with the blaze was ready to contend on the biggest stages once again. Next up would be the Climax Cup versus Nightshade, Kentucky Derby winner Born To Impress, Preakness Stakes winner Sweet Inferno and Mother Goose and Coaching Club American Oaks Winner War Cry. The field was loaded and dead even at this stage in the game. There was truly no three year old that was better than the other. This would be the race to prove it or perhaps it would only further jumble the class up.
Fie pranced on her toes, dancing like an athlete about to go toe to toe with the champ. Kendall followed the pair of horses down the path, keeping a respectful distance, but practically bouncing out of her skin. Ripley was aboard Fiery Touch. The same Ripley who had piloted El Sol del Mar to her Y6 Hall of Fame campaign. The same Ripley who had guided Mastermind to victories in both the Turf Sprinter Crown and two legs in the Dirt Sprinter Crown. Kendall could barely leash herself. She bit her thumb, trying to decide if this was reality or a dream.
Brooks glanced over his shoulder, noted the fragile girl's excited, but somewhat muted enthusiasm. "You sure she should be watching this? She's so quiet I can't decide if she's grateful or resigned to be here." Ripley flashed him a look, petted Fiery Touch's neck as the mare pounced the dirt track. "Let me guess you were the jock everybody loved in high school?" Brooks shrugged. So what if he had been. "I was the girl that was bullied to the brink of thinking about committing suicide. I was teased and tortured. I did not play sports and got teased for being too smart. I was the girl without friends. The only friends I had were the hunters and jumpers at my barn. Later on, at the track. If I can do one thing for Kendall, it is to repeat what life-saving event was given to me. Things are not always as they seem Brookson Wells."
Brooks stared after Ripley as she asked Fiery Touch for a fleeting gallop. His blue eyes were filled with shock, unease and shame. He glanced at Kendall who was watching him with big eyes that reminded him of an owl. He grinned her way. She blinked. He rolled his shoulders, turned back and sent Red Herring surging after Ripley Marsh, the woman who had never told him anything about her past until this point.
Brooks slapped Red's sturdy neck as he charged up to Fiery Touch's throatlatch. The bronze colored horse was a study in pure athleticism. He bounded along with fluidity and strength. He would have been the quarterback on a football team if he'd been human. Brooks leaned close as the wind whipped his face. His elation was rising because Ripley had finally spoken to him. For weeks she'd been deadlocked against him. One word replies and post-it notes. Brooks glared. He now hated post-it notes.
Red pinned his ears when Fie sped up to nose him out for the lead. The mare had grown some cajones in the last few months. No longer did she tolerate being headed. She was rough, tough and willing to tango with just about anyone. Red Herring would be her test to decide if she would truly go in the Who's More Youthful Stakes in October Week One. Ripley hoped the mare impressed, was certain she would. Horses didn't show up with poor races when they were training like Fiery Touch had been. This had been the first time in two weeks that Fie had been matched with a partner. The Ganymede Cup had been the race to tide Fie over. She was roaring annoyed to be stuck in a stall and running others off of their hooves in simple gallops.
Red bucked forcefully when Brooks restrained him from running up to Fie's head. Brooks wrapped his hand in the colt's burnished mane, eyes glinting with excitement and fear. Red was not quite so outrageously the class-clown he'd once been, but he had his moments now and again. To egg him on more, Fie put on another burst of speed, sweeping down the backstretch with the throttle wide open. A smile lit up Ripley's face. The mare was a tough cookie. She was boss mare. Red Herring was a mosquito. Ripley leaned close, tugged on the reins slightly, jerking the bit back. Fie let out a frustrated sigh, but gave into the tension and settled back to Red Herring.
The horses sent clods of dirt flying back from their jackknifing hooves. Fie was stretched out, every sinewy muscle taunt when fully extended. She was glorious in full flight. The power that emanated from Fie was clear even to Kendall from across the track. The light bay mare maintained her slight lead, always pressed by Red Herring. Kendall smirked, but Red Herring ran best that way. The big, burly colt bounded beside Fie, a picture of strength and health. He moved effortlessly, keeping pressure, but not running himself dry. He ran to the level of his competition. Brooks kept his hands still aboard the colt as he stormed over the track. Red was locked in the zone. All Brooks needed to do was pilot.
The mile and a quarter gallop flashed by and the horses were well into the backstretch portion of the racing gallop. Six furlongs. Ripley leaned close to Fie's stretched out neck. She was a stubborn mare, hell-bent to hold Red Herring at bay. She made Ripley prouder with every single step she took. Red pulsed at her neck, brown eyes rimmed with white as he charged at her throat. His ears were pinned back into his mane, his gaze fierce. Fie was tougher than he remembered. Brooks could feel the confusion slicing up the reins. He shook them, stirred his mount up.
Red surged forward, snatching the lead abruptly from Fiery Touch. He drew to a half length led and set out on cruise control. Brooks sat chilly in the saddle, eyes narrowed as the red horse barreled along. He was something this colt. He'd matured beautifully, had gained strength. He likely could run well into February of Year Fourteen before he needed another vacation. He pushed forward on his own accord, drawing away from Fie, and deliberately cut into her lane. Brooks gritted his teeth, glanced under his arm. He'd gone clear. The colt had known to go clear. He let out a sigh, refocused on the front. Ripley wouldn't chew his head off later.
Fie was full of fury when Red began to draw away and Ripley wouldn't let her go on. She was full of energy. It was pounding in her brain that she had to tackle the colt now. Ripley held her back, made her wait. Patience would be key in the Who's More Youthful Stakes. The auburn haired woman steadied the lean mare, eyeing the burly competition before her. Red was going to be mighty tough next season. But he had to deal with the big dogs this year. And Fie was just the first test.
Ripley plunged forward aboard Fie the moment Red Herring it the final furlong. The bay mare rocketed forward, practically frozen in shock at the rapid movement of her rider. Ripley leaned close as the mare gained her action and took off with furious, long strides. She flew up the outside, cutting the lead down to a half-length, neck, then head. Brooks urged Red on, knew the colt was giving his top A effort. He surged back. Fie pushed forward and ran level to him. Ripley and Brooks were still as the colt and mare battled all the way down to the wire.
Kendall watched in awe as the light bay and chestnut horses dueled each other even after the wire. It took mighty efforts on both riders to get them to pull up. Red bucked, ears pinned, in outright defiance. Brooks rode him out. Kendall muffled a snort. Jocks had to deal with everything. Especially, crazy horses. Ripley watched Kendall as they rode back, saw the excitement for the Witch Creek horses shining in her gray eyes. Absolutely perfect. If Kendall could see that the Witch Creek dirt runners were ready, perhaps they would run to their appearances and make her proud of what she'd seen.
Red snorted through his nostrils, eyes burning with fire and excitement. He strolled along as if king of the castle, pleased with himself. Brooks felt like a men among boys aboard this colt. Red Herring had grown magnificently over the two months he'd been off. He'd proven so in his powerful victory in the Hollywood Gold Cup. The chestnut horse with the blaze was ready to contend on the biggest stages once again. Next up would be the Climax Cup versus Nightshade, Kentucky Derby winner Born To Impress, Preakness Stakes winner Sweet Inferno and Mother Goose and Coaching Club American Oaks Winner War Cry. The field was loaded and dead even at this stage in the game. There was truly no three year old that was better than the other. This would be the race to prove it or perhaps it would only further jumble the class up.
Fie pranced on her toes, dancing like an athlete about to go toe to toe with the champ. Kendall followed the pair of horses down the path, keeping a respectful distance, but practically bouncing out of her skin. Ripley was aboard Fiery Touch. The same Ripley who had piloted El Sol del Mar to her Y6 Hall of Fame campaign. The same Ripley who had guided Mastermind to victories in both the Turf Sprinter Crown and two legs in the Dirt Sprinter Crown. Kendall could barely leash herself. She bit her thumb, trying to decide if this was reality or a dream.
Brooks glanced over his shoulder, noted the fragile girl's excited, but somewhat muted enthusiasm. "You sure she should be watching this? She's so quiet I can't decide if she's grateful or resigned to be here." Ripley flashed him a look, petted Fiery Touch's neck as the mare pounced the dirt track. "Let me guess you were the jock everybody loved in high school?" Brooks shrugged. So what if he had been. "I was the girl that was bullied to the brink of thinking about committing suicide. I was teased and tortured. I did not play sports and got teased for being too smart. I was the girl without friends. The only friends I had were the hunters and jumpers at my barn. Later on, at the track. If I can do one thing for Kendall, it is to repeat what life-saving event was given to me. Things are not always as they seem Brookson Wells."
Brooks stared after Ripley as she asked Fiery Touch for a fleeting gallop. His blue eyes were filled with shock, unease and shame. He glanced at Kendall who was watching him with big eyes that reminded him of an owl. He grinned her way. She blinked. He rolled his shoulders, turned back and sent Red Herring surging after Ripley Marsh, the woman who had never told him anything about her past until this point.
Brooks slapped Red's sturdy neck as he charged up to Fiery Touch's throatlatch. The bronze colored horse was a study in pure athleticism. He bounded along with fluidity and strength. He would have been the quarterback on a football team if he'd been human. Brooks leaned close as the wind whipped his face. His elation was rising because Ripley had finally spoken to him. For weeks she'd been deadlocked against him. One word replies and post-it notes. Brooks glared. He now hated post-it notes.
Red pinned his ears when Fie sped up to nose him out for the lead. The mare had grown some cajones in the last few months. No longer did she tolerate being headed. She was rough, tough and willing to tango with just about anyone. Red Herring would be her test to decide if she would truly go in the Who's More Youthful Stakes in October Week One. Ripley hoped the mare impressed, was certain she would. Horses didn't show up with poor races when they were training like Fiery Touch had been. This had been the first time in two weeks that Fie had been matched with a partner. The Ganymede Cup had been the race to tide Fie over. She was roaring annoyed to be stuck in a stall and running others off of their hooves in simple gallops.
Red bucked forcefully when Brooks restrained him from running up to Fie's head. Brooks wrapped his hand in the colt's burnished mane, eyes glinting with excitement and fear. Red was not quite so outrageously the class-clown he'd once been, but he had his moments now and again. To egg him on more, Fie put on another burst of speed, sweeping down the backstretch with the throttle wide open. A smile lit up Ripley's face. The mare was a tough cookie. She was boss mare. Red Herring was a mosquito. Ripley leaned close, tugged on the reins slightly, jerking the bit back. Fie let out a frustrated sigh, but gave into the tension and settled back to Red Herring.
The horses sent clods of dirt flying back from their jackknifing hooves. Fie was stretched out, every sinewy muscle taunt when fully extended. She was glorious in full flight. The power that emanated from Fie was clear even to Kendall from across the track. The light bay mare maintained her slight lead, always pressed by Red Herring. Kendall smirked, but Red Herring ran best that way. The big, burly colt bounded beside Fie, a picture of strength and health. He moved effortlessly, keeping pressure, but not running himself dry. He ran to the level of his competition. Brooks kept his hands still aboard the colt as he stormed over the track. Red was locked in the zone. All Brooks needed to do was pilot.
The mile and a quarter gallop flashed by and the horses were well into the backstretch portion of the racing gallop. Six furlongs. Ripley leaned close to Fie's stretched out neck. She was a stubborn mare, hell-bent to hold Red Herring at bay. She made Ripley prouder with every single step she took. Red pulsed at her neck, brown eyes rimmed with white as he charged at her throat. His ears were pinned back into his mane, his gaze fierce. Fie was tougher than he remembered. Brooks could feel the confusion slicing up the reins. He shook them, stirred his mount up.
Red surged forward, snatching the lead abruptly from Fiery Touch. He drew to a half length led and set out on cruise control. Brooks sat chilly in the saddle, eyes narrowed as the red horse barreled along. He was something this colt. He'd matured beautifully, had gained strength. He likely could run well into February of Year Fourteen before he needed another vacation. He pushed forward on his own accord, drawing away from Fie, and deliberately cut into her lane. Brooks gritted his teeth, glanced under his arm. He'd gone clear. The colt had known to go clear. He let out a sigh, refocused on the front. Ripley wouldn't chew his head off later.
Fie was full of fury when Red began to draw away and Ripley wouldn't let her go on. She was full of energy. It was pounding in her brain that she had to tackle the colt now. Ripley held her back, made her wait. Patience would be key in the Who's More Youthful Stakes. The auburn haired woman steadied the lean mare, eyeing the burly competition before her. Red was going to be mighty tough next season. But he had to deal with the big dogs this year. And Fie was just the first test.
Ripley plunged forward aboard Fie the moment Red Herring it the final furlong. The bay mare rocketed forward, practically frozen in shock at the rapid movement of her rider. Ripley leaned close as the mare gained her action and took off with furious, long strides. She flew up the outside, cutting the lead down to a half-length, neck, then head. Brooks urged Red on, knew the colt was giving his top A effort. He surged back. Fie pushed forward and ran level to him. Ripley and Brooks were still as the colt and mare battled all the way down to the wire.
Kendall watched in awe as the light bay and chestnut horses dueled each other even after the wire. It took mighty efforts on both riders to get them to pull up. Red bucked, ears pinned, in outright defiance. Brooks rode him out. Kendall muffled a snort. Jocks had to deal with everything. Especially, crazy horses. Ripley watched Kendall as they rode back, saw the excitement for the Witch Creek horses shining in her gray eyes. Absolutely perfect. If Kendall could see that the Witch Creek dirt runners were ready, perhaps they would run to their appearances and make her proud of what she'd seen.
checkmate
Courtesy of Event of the Year Photos.
Ripley admonished herself for planning so many workouts between herself and Brooks today. Her green eyes were lit up with irritation as her assistant trainer kept stopping his work to speak with Kendall's father. It had delayed them an hour that Ripley couldn't afford to lose. While Brooks dillydallied after her, Ripley was already mounted aboard a pumped up Mastermind and heading to the track.
The brilliant chestnut pranced with each leg lifting in a sharp chorus. He was a symphony of movement, pureness and brilliance. Mastermind's head was lifted proud, his chest puffed out. There was nothing that compared to the regally bred colt at Witch Creek Stable. When Mastermind was on his game, it was like a procession of one beautiful performance after another. He was firing on all cylinders, coming off an excellent, gritty dead heat with Aquatic Addiction. In Mastermind's brain, he hadn't actually beaten the other colt. He knew the difference between a dead-heat and a win. And he wanted a victory badly. He would take on Forbidden to Fly, Afterglow and queen of the dirt sprinters, Lynara's Kingdom. It would be a stiff test, but Ripley was confident the Speed Demon colt could handle it. All along they had been pointing to this one race. This one King's Bishop. His victories in the Highway Stakes, the Red Wine Sprint and the Speedway Stakes had merely been a lead up to facing the older horses at the end of the season.
Now it was the end of the season. It was time to find out if Mastermind could take the next step in his championship season. Ripley hoped, prayed that she would. The colt snorted, bowing his elegant neck and put on a show of mighty elegance. He stomped over the dirt course, tail swishing over his rump, ears flicking back and forth. He was very much ready for what was to come. Ripley turned the stallion, narrowed her eyes when she saw Brooks finally riding Ashes onto the dirt course.
The blood bay stallion's muscles rippled beneath his hide. The sun picked up the copper strands laced throughout his darker color, making him absolutely vibrant. Ashes was rip roaring and ready to go. He pinned his ears and reared, mouth agape. Brooks was shaking his head. Ripley smirked, turned Mastermind away. Brooks watched her as he pushed the blood bay stallion to the earth. He didn't know what had quite gotten into his horses. He was as close to finding out as he was to making Ripley his fiance. Very far away indeed.
Ashes stepped out into a whirling gallop, rushing up to Mastermind who was now floating over the course. The chestnut horse flicked an ear in Ashes' direction, brown eye analyzing the other horse as he stole the lead away. Ripley smiled, pleased that Mastermind no longer bolted when trapped between a horse and the inner rail. He'd grown up wonderfully over the last year. And to think she had been close to retiring the chestnut horse. She patted his muscled shoulder as he leaped into the turn. He was an absolute vision.
Ashes cruised right at Mastermind's shoulder, gaze intense and fiery. He had always failed to get the victories over at Green Horse Fields. At least the major victories. A third in the Babbling Brook Handicap had the stallion more than fired up for his next start in the Pluto Cup. He swallowed the ground with each long, lion-sized stride he took. Brooks leaned close to the stallion's pulsing neck, blue eyes glinting with pride. The gangly, innocent colt had grown into a fierce stallion. Ashes to Ashes wasn't the greatest horse, but he was easily one of the most consistent and reliable. The Cigar Mile winner had gears on top of his gears. The Breeders Cup would be his final career start and they would make it a good one.
The chestnut and blood bay surged through the opening four furlongs of the mile workout. Ashes to Ashes blatantly made sure that he kept the lead at every stage. He would crowd Mastermind each time the Speed Demon colt made a break for the lead. Mastermind would grudgingly give in, not wanting to get pinched. Ripley always remained still. The three year old needed to learn these lessons if he was to take on the older bunch. She waited like a cat stalking its pray. Mastermind relaxed back into the bit, not stressed out more than he had to be.
Ashes to Ashes moved strongly, black legs whipping over the course with absolute authority. He was the one giving Mastermind the tough time. He wanted the other horse to have a miserable go of it. Brooks couldn't blame him. Ashes was done being the nice guy. He was a quick horse with a lot of controllable speed. To Brooks this made him better than most others. Except for possibly Mastermind who was in possession of the same talent. Mastermind backed off, settling behind Ashes. If the stallion wanted to play mind games he'd have to deal with the master himself. Ripley admired Mastermind as the chestnut tracked Ashes just behind his heels.
The bay stallion was clearly uncomfortable. He moved rapidly over the rail, eyes blazing with absolute irritation. Brooks had to grab a handful of mane in order to stay aboard the rocketing horse. Mastermind immediately moved up to take a firm position at Ashes to Ashes right hip. The colt's ears were pinned back, a look of fury rather than tiredness. Ripley leaned close to his neck as the colt cranked into the far turn. His muscles worked in perfect tandem, his body lined out and yet, still filled with complete power and control.
The chestnut and bay fired at one another, taking their speed to levels close to true racing speed. Mastermind moved closer to Ashes as they straightened up in the stretch, not letting Ashes get his full momentum. The bigger horse was furious, his ears were pinned and his eyes were absolutely full of hatred. He pushed heavily into Mastermind's left shoulder. Mastermind ran sideways for a second and then returned the physical abuse.
The colt and stallion dueled each other all the way to the wire. Mastermind got his head down first, hitting the wire with his red mane flying around his face. Ashes put on a burst of speed in the gallop out, going even though Brooks wanted him to stop. He buried Mastermind in the gallop out, defying his need to stop and relax. He was ready for whatever came. They both were ready. The champion making season was finally upon them.
The brilliant chestnut pranced with each leg lifting in a sharp chorus. He was a symphony of movement, pureness and brilliance. Mastermind's head was lifted proud, his chest puffed out. There was nothing that compared to the regally bred colt at Witch Creek Stable. When Mastermind was on his game, it was like a procession of one beautiful performance after another. He was firing on all cylinders, coming off an excellent, gritty dead heat with Aquatic Addiction. In Mastermind's brain, he hadn't actually beaten the other colt. He knew the difference between a dead-heat and a win. And he wanted a victory badly. He would take on Forbidden to Fly, Afterglow and queen of the dirt sprinters, Lynara's Kingdom. It would be a stiff test, but Ripley was confident the Speed Demon colt could handle it. All along they had been pointing to this one race. This one King's Bishop. His victories in the Highway Stakes, the Red Wine Sprint and the Speedway Stakes had merely been a lead up to facing the older horses at the end of the season.
Now it was the end of the season. It was time to find out if Mastermind could take the next step in his championship season. Ripley hoped, prayed that she would. The colt snorted, bowing his elegant neck and put on a show of mighty elegance. He stomped over the dirt course, tail swishing over his rump, ears flicking back and forth. He was very much ready for what was to come. Ripley turned the stallion, narrowed her eyes when she saw Brooks finally riding Ashes onto the dirt course.
The blood bay stallion's muscles rippled beneath his hide. The sun picked up the copper strands laced throughout his darker color, making him absolutely vibrant. Ashes was rip roaring and ready to go. He pinned his ears and reared, mouth agape. Brooks was shaking his head. Ripley smirked, turned Mastermind away. Brooks watched her as he pushed the blood bay stallion to the earth. He didn't know what had quite gotten into his horses. He was as close to finding out as he was to making Ripley his fiance. Very far away indeed.
Ashes stepped out into a whirling gallop, rushing up to Mastermind who was now floating over the course. The chestnut horse flicked an ear in Ashes' direction, brown eye analyzing the other horse as he stole the lead away. Ripley smiled, pleased that Mastermind no longer bolted when trapped between a horse and the inner rail. He'd grown up wonderfully over the last year. And to think she had been close to retiring the chestnut horse. She patted his muscled shoulder as he leaped into the turn. He was an absolute vision.
Ashes cruised right at Mastermind's shoulder, gaze intense and fiery. He had always failed to get the victories over at Green Horse Fields. At least the major victories. A third in the Babbling Brook Handicap had the stallion more than fired up for his next start in the Pluto Cup. He swallowed the ground with each long, lion-sized stride he took. Brooks leaned close to the stallion's pulsing neck, blue eyes glinting with pride. The gangly, innocent colt had grown into a fierce stallion. Ashes to Ashes wasn't the greatest horse, but he was easily one of the most consistent and reliable. The Cigar Mile winner had gears on top of his gears. The Breeders Cup would be his final career start and they would make it a good one.
The chestnut and blood bay surged through the opening four furlongs of the mile workout. Ashes to Ashes blatantly made sure that he kept the lead at every stage. He would crowd Mastermind each time the Speed Demon colt made a break for the lead. Mastermind would grudgingly give in, not wanting to get pinched. Ripley always remained still. The three year old needed to learn these lessons if he was to take on the older bunch. She waited like a cat stalking its pray. Mastermind relaxed back into the bit, not stressed out more than he had to be.
Ashes to Ashes moved strongly, black legs whipping over the course with absolute authority. He was the one giving Mastermind the tough time. He wanted the other horse to have a miserable go of it. Brooks couldn't blame him. Ashes was done being the nice guy. He was a quick horse with a lot of controllable speed. To Brooks this made him better than most others. Except for possibly Mastermind who was in possession of the same talent. Mastermind backed off, settling behind Ashes. If the stallion wanted to play mind games he'd have to deal with the master himself. Ripley admired Mastermind as the chestnut tracked Ashes just behind his heels.
The bay stallion was clearly uncomfortable. He moved rapidly over the rail, eyes blazing with absolute irritation. Brooks had to grab a handful of mane in order to stay aboard the rocketing horse. Mastermind immediately moved up to take a firm position at Ashes to Ashes right hip. The colt's ears were pinned back, a look of fury rather than tiredness. Ripley leaned close to his neck as the colt cranked into the far turn. His muscles worked in perfect tandem, his body lined out and yet, still filled with complete power and control.
The chestnut and bay fired at one another, taking their speed to levels close to true racing speed. Mastermind moved closer to Ashes as they straightened up in the stretch, not letting Ashes get his full momentum. The bigger horse was furious, his ears were pinned and his eyes were absolutely full of hatred. He pushed heavily into Mastermind's left shoulder. Mastermind ran sideways for a second and then returned the physical abuse.
The colt and stallion dueled each other all the way to the wire. Mastermind got his head down first, hitting the wire with his red mane flying around his face. Ashes put on a burst of speed in the gallop out, going even though Brooks wanted him to stop. He buried Mastermind in the gallop out, defying his need to stop and relax. He was ready for whatever came. They both were ready. The champion making season was finally upon them.
hawk eyed
Courtesy of Event of the Year Photos.
Lazy brown eyes stared back at Maggiletti Renyolds while she adjusted the brow band of a powerful plain brown horse. Maggie's blue eyes were filled with love for this particular filly. She didn't like a powerhouse now, but when Paranormal Hunter got out on the track she transformed. She was in possession of Maggie's heart and soul. When the two year old filly hit the track she was not just the lumbering horse. Maggie poured heart and soul into every race with Para. They were an inseparable team. Para had easily become one of the better turf runners at The Wire, behind Hourglass, Prima and In the Spotlight. Now it was time to take in a change of scenery in preparation for things to come.
Hot eyes bore into Reese's back as she pulled on her riding equipment. She could feel the heat, the fire and the determination wrapped up in a flaming fireball. She glanced over her shoulder and grinned at the coal black horse staring at her. Can I help you Mourn? The Tempered Passion and Requiem colt was an intimidating force to reckon with. His easy win in the New York Maiden had Reese clamoring for more. Perhaps he would be ready for the Breeders Cup Juvenile at the end of the season. Reese prayed he would. Even a second or third would give him credit as a three year old in Year Fourteen. It'd been the same way for Bella Luna only she'd had loads of starts at this point last year.
Yet, something deep within Mourning Passion's soul told Reese that a start in the Kentucky Derby next year was not completely out of his reach. He pawed the rubber padding beneath his hooves, eyes rolling to flash some whites. Reese cupped a hand over his delicate nose, smiling as his hot breathing steadied and he relaxed again. His gallops had been impressive as of late. He was a lethal big cat in a horse's body. She kissed his forehead, turned to look at Maggie. Ready?
Maggie nodded, lead the way from the barn. Ripley said to take them to the turf track. We're closing it down after October. With Requiem's influence, Mourn should handle it just fine. Reese nodded in agreement and swung aboard the lean colt that was Mourning Passion. He vibrated with pure energy, nostrils quivering with a loud, shrieking whinny. Reese grinned, sent the colt trotting off down the path. He bowed his neck, prancing high steps. This was a good colt who never lost any of his heat. His ears were pricked up until the moment Reese guided him onto the turf. Instantly, his form changed. He tensed up, his ears slammed back to listen to Paranormal Hunter as she picked up a ground eating trot. She's not Hourglass, Mourn. She does her best running from behind. So we have to save something for later.
Paranormal Hunter jumped into her gallop the second she hit the turf. Her lumbering body covered the ground fantastically even without effort. She rolled up to Mourning Passion's side, ears pricked and ready. Maggie nodded to herself. Para was not usually one to show interest right at the start of a workout. Perhaps she was finally learning to love racing. Maggie patted the filly's slick neck, blue eyes flashing as the first hill came closer.
Mourn bolted when Reese signaled him to move out into a faster gait. The black colt's initial speed was breathtaking. He glided over the browning grass with such precision and silence. He was almost like a phantom. His ears pricked up as he left Paranormal Hunter three lengths behind. She didn't worry him like The Devil's Hourglass had. Reese perched lightly at his withers, dark eyes glinting with excitement. It would be nice to feel Mourn get his reality check. Para could not be underestimated.
Para rumbled along behind Mourn, ears locked on the black colt with interest. She was on the bit today and steady as possibly could be. Maggie leaned close to her neck, admiring the way the bay horse stretched out. Para was not overtly powerful until she got warmed up. Today she was making a better showing of herself. Just in time for the Hawk Cup later this week. Maggie patted the big filly's neck, thoroughly happy with her mount.
Mourning Passion dashed over the turf course, legs quick and agile. He was a flurry of motion in action. He tossed his head, full of himself as he picked up speed. Reese let the colt play for the moment. He needed to have some fun or eventually racing would only be work for him. He fired up the next hillside, legs whipping quickly beneath him. Reese was grinning when the colt hit the top of the hillside. The three furlong flat spread out before them. The mile and a quarter lay behind them.
Mourn's ears slammed back and Reese knew Maggie had finally asked for Para to pick it up. She niggled the reins and sent her night black colt down the hillside. She nodded in approval. Very good Mourn. He zoomed down the hillside, leaping the last foot and hit the ground running. She steadied herself, gripped his whipping black mane and prepared for the onslaught of speed. And Mourn had plenty of it. His head was lifted high as he ran, nostrils distended as he took air into his great lungs.
Para stormed down the hillside, a war horse heading into gunfire. Maggie wanted to close her eyes as the filly made her attack. She didn't. She simply prayed she lived. The plain Jane bay filly roared off of the hillside, propelling herself with her powerful hind end. Her ears were pinned back in her mane as she commenced her bid. Mourn was four lengths in front, now three, now two. His hooves pinned back. Maggie shook her head when he put on a burst of speed. He could try to outrun Para, but she was a grinder. She kept coming and coming. She only got better with more distance. He would learn not to tax himself off of this workout.
Reese didn't have to glance back to know Paranormal Hunter flying up on her left. The big filly always came with her run. Sometimes she got there, sometimes she did not. Lately, she'd gotten there a lot. She was the dark horse of Ripley's turf trio. Underestimating Para was a big mistake. Reese gritted her teeth when Para proved it so by bullying her way up to run at Mourn's barrel. The coal black horse bared his teeth, forcefully dug in and leaned into Para. The bay filly did not relent like Hourglass had. Mourn lost momentum. Para was a heavy filly. Moving her was like moving a boulder the size of a draft horse. Mourn infuriated himself, leaping away from her like an agile cat, and surged away.
Para went with him, displaying her mighty heart with two hundred yards left. Her large frame barreled up, exerting the kind of effort she laid down in a real race. Maggie was still, eyes wide with pleasure. Para was absolutely wonderful. Her eye was locked on Mourning Passion as she bulled her way to the lead. Her ears pricked up as she past through the wire a half-length in front. Maggie immediately stood up, pumping her fist. Para's ears waved over her head in contentment. Maggie slapped her neck. Absolutely amazing girl! Absolutely brilliant. You're such a good girl Para. She kissed the filly's neck as she pulled up.
Mourn cantered along, ears pinned when Reese continued to make him work. The black colt was furious in every sense of the word. He needed to remember what it was to lose. It made him better for the next race. Reese believed he could pull off a fantastic performance off of this kind of workout. He snorted when she finally brought him to a trot and turned him. This time instead of regarding Para with pricked ears, he snaked his head out in full out warning. She merely regarded him as she would a bug. She twitched her skin and walked in the opposite direction. Tough fillies never put up with anyone else's foolishness for long.
Hot eyes bore into Reese's back as she pulled on her riding equipment. She could feel the heat, the fire and the determination wrapped up in a flaming fireball. She glanced over her shoulder and grinned at the coal black horse staring at her. Can I help you Mourn? The Tempered Passion and Requiem colt was an intimidating force to reckon with. His easy win in the New York Maiden had Reese clamoring for more. Perhaps he would be ready for the Breeders Cup Juvenile at the end of the season. Reese prayed he would. Even a second or third would give him credit as a three year old in Year Fourteen. It'd been the same way for Bella Luna only she'd had loads of starts at this point last year.
Yet, something deep within Mourning Passion's soul told Reese that a start in the Kentucky Derby next year was not completely out of his reach. He pawed the rubber padding beneath his hooves, eyes rolling to flash some whites. Reese cupped a hand over his delicate nose, smiling as his hot breathing steadied and he relaxed again. His gallops had been impressive as of late. He was a lethal big cat in a horse's body. She kissed his forehead, turned to look at Maggie. Ready?
Maggie nodded, lead the way from the barn. Ripley said to take them to the turf track. We're closing it down after October. With Requiem's influence, Mourn should handle it just fine. Reese nodded in agreement and swung aboard the lean colt that was Mourning Passion. He vibrated with pure energy, nostrils quivering with a loud, shrieking whinny. Reese grinned, sent the colt trotting off down the path. He bowed his neck, prancing high steps. This was a good colt who never lost any of his heat. His ears were pricked up until the moment Reese guided him onto the turf. Instantly, his form changed. He tensed up, his ears slammed back to listen to Paranormal Hunter as she picked up a ground eating trot. She's not Hourglass, Mourn. She does her best running from behind. So we have to save something for later.
Paranormal Hunter jumped into her gallop the second she hit the turf. Her lumbering body covered the ground fantastically even without effort. She rolled up to Mourning Passion's side, ears pricked and ready. Maggie nodded to herself. Para was not usually one to show interest right at the start of a workout. Perhaps she was finally learning to love racing. Maggie patted the filly's slick neck, blue eyes flashing as the first hill came closer.
Mourn bolted when Reese signaled him to move out into a faster gait. The black colt's initial speed was breathtaking. He glided over the browning grass with such precision and silence. He was almost like a phantom. His ears pricked up as he left Paranormal Hunter three lengths behind. She didn't worry him like The Devil's Hourglass had. Reese perched lightly at his withers, dark eyes glinting with excitement. It would be nice to feel Mourn get his reality check. Para could not be underestimated.
Para rumbled along behind Mourn, ears locked on the black colt with interest. She was on the bit today and steady as possibly could be. Maggie leaned close to her neck, admiring the way the bay horse stretched out. Para was not overtly powerful until she got warmed up. Today she was making a better showing of herself. Just in time for the Hawk Cup later this week. Maggie patted the big filly's neck, thoroughly happy with her mount.
Mourning Passion dashed over the turf course, legs quick and agile. He was a flurry of motion in action. He tossed his head, full of himself as he picked up speed. Reese let the colt play for the moment. He needed to have some fun or eventually racing would only be work for him. He fired up the next hillside, legs whipping quickly beneath him. Reese was grinning when the colt hit the top of the hillside. The three furlong flat spread out before them. The mile and a quarter lay behind them.
Mourn's ears slammed back and Reese knew Maggie had finally asked for Para to pick it up. She niggled the reins and sent her night black colt down the hillside. She nodded in approval. Very good Mourn. He zoomed down the hillside, leaping the last foot and hit the ground running. She steadied herself, gripped his whipping black mane and prepared for the onslaught of speed. And Mourn had plenty of it. His head was lifted high as he ran, nostrils distended as he took air into his great lungs.
Para stormed down the hillside, a war horse heading into gunfire. Maggie wanted to close her eyes as the filly made her attack. She didn't. She simply prayed she lived. The plain Jane bay filly roared off of the hillside, propelling herself with her powerful hind end. Her ears were pinned back in her mane as she commenced her bid. Mourn was four lengths in front, now three, now two. His hooves pinned back. Maggie shook her head when he put on a burst of speed. He could try to outrun Para, but she was a grinder. She kept coming and coming. She only got better with more distance. He would learn not to tax himself off of this workout.
Reese didn't have to glance back to know Paranormal Hunter flying up on her left. The big filly always came with her run. Sometimes she got there, sometimes she did not. Lately, she'd gotten there a lot. She was the dark horse of Ripley's turf trio. Underestimating Para was a big mistake. Reese gritted her teeth when Para proved it so by bullying her way up to run at Mourn's barrel. The coal black horse bared his teeth, forcefully dug in and leaned into Para. The bay filly did not relent like Hourglass had. Mourn lost momentum. Para was a heavy filly. Moving her was like moving a boulder the size of a draft horse. Mourn infuriated himself, leaping away from her like an agile cat, and surged away.
Para went with him, displaying her mighty heart with two hundred yards left. Her large frame barreled up, exerting the kind of effort she laid down in a real race. Maggie was still, eyes wide with pleasure. Para was absolutely wonderful. Her eye was locked on Mourning Passion as she bulled her way to the lead. Her ears pricked up as she past through the wire a half-length in front. Maggie immediately stood up, pumping her fist. Para's ears waved over her head in contentment. Maggie slapped her neck. Absolutely amazing girl! Absolutely brilliant. You're such a good girl Para. She kissed the filly's neck as she pulled up.
Mourn cantered along, ears pinned when Reese continued to make him work. The black colt was furious in every sense of the word. He needed to remember what it was to lose. It made him better for the next race. Reese believed he could pull off a fantastic performance off of this kind of workout. He snorted when she finally brought him to a trot and turned him. This time instead of regarding Para with pricked ears, he snaked his head out in full out warning. She merely regarded him as she would a bug. She twitched her skin and walked in the opposite direction. Tough fillies never put up with anyone else's foolishness for long.