April Week Two
mission impossible
Maggie let out a giant breath as she straightened up from her stretching. She had a big job to do in the next two workouts. The first wasn't a high priority on the stable's list as a whole, though every start mattered. To Maggie, Vagabond's success was just evidence of how well she would be riding. She hoped for a top spot on the marvelous colt who had gone from stubborn bridesmaid to hero in two successive starts. The bay colt stared back at her out of his blinkers, eyes glowing with the knowledge of his sudden success. He was putting it together and looked to be the late bloomer out of the entire Year Twelve crop.
The blond girl patted the colt's thick neck, smiling at his gleeful look. The colt was a lover to Maggie, something none of the other colts in the crop could claim. Something most of the older horses couldn't claim to be either. She was glad to have this big growing colt as her partner, especially against the mammoth they would face off with in the first set.
Horseshoes rang against concrete, gathering both Bond and Maggie's attention from their cuddling escapade. Maggie's bright blue eyes narrowed on the well-muscled stallion that was Hokum. He looked stunning this morning with big saucer dapples on his rump. His tail hung all the way to his ankles and his mane was braided up into tight dressage braids. He looked like the performance horse he was and looked more than ready to take back his crown as one of the top handicap horses in the country.
Justin patted his mount's neck, knowing just the picture the Kore VS stud made. He had been meticulous in preparing the horse for this morning's workout. Today, Hokum would have to prove he was worthy of continuing his racing career in the Doncaster Cup. The stallion had been performing consistently on the upper level, but wasn't demonstrating the killer instinct he'd possessed at the age of three. Justin wondered if Hokum was becoming more of a grinder and less of a brilliant animal. He was getting heavier due to maturity and his speed was slightly more limited, but his cunning and raw agility more than made up for the lack. He was just changing. Ripley would see. Justin would make her see. Hokum could get the win in the Doncaster Cup and be the boss he was. Justin would prove it and hope Hokum met him half-way.
Maggie mounted up and led the way out to the turf track. Vagabond strutted boldly ahead of Hokum. He'd been watching this older horse for quite sometime, always entering or leaving the track whenever Hokum arrived or left. Bond wanted to beat Hokum more than ever and, despite his immaturity, Maggie wondered if he could. Vagabond would eventually. She was almost certain of it. Vagabond had a star quality to him, in every glorious muscle. She patted the colt's neck as he stepped from a jog into a hand-gallop. His tail waved out behind him, a black cape behind his impressive physique. The colt pinned his ears when Hokum leaped out to the lead, not sparing a single glance for the hot-shot juvenile. Justin smirked at his horse. Hokum was not one for juvenile nonsense. He would leave this Vagabond colt whimpering in the dust.
Hokum stretched out as he galloped up the hillside, pushing mightily off of his haunches. He rippled with power and strength as he crested it, posing momentarily, before surging down the side. Justin wrapped his hands in the flying black mane, trying to not to let out a nervous laugh. Hokum was sure full of himself today. It reminded Justin of his first ride aboard the haughty animal at the end of his two year old year. Hokum had been a wild-thing, a ball-buster, a tough guy. He'd been the perfect follow up to Justin's wonderful Dazzling Dame. Justin would not let this big animal down, would not allow his first true grade one mount to fall back into the ranks of underdog.
Vagabond rolled behind Hokum, ears pricked on the target. He knew Maggie was going to let him loose in the three furlong stretch. He wasn't a dummy. He'd long since learned that the most important part of the turf races was the final three furlongs. Bond had developed a lethal closing kick and Maggie simply could not wait to hustle the blood bay animal into action. There was a quarter mile left to go and Maggie felt like she was sitting in the pocket spot.
If this had been a true flat race, Justin would have long since made his move aboard the Kore VS stud. He was actually hampered by the hills and it leveled the playing field for the hot-shot juvenile. Vagabond was made for this course. Hokum had to slow his momentum because of the steep hillside right before the flat. Justin relaxed his grip on the reins, breathed deeply, prayed his horse would settle down. Hokum took a giant breath and did just that, slowing down practically upon asking. "Atta boy, Hokum. Just a little longer and then we can put them to bed."
Maggie didn't have to be a scientist to know Justin had just slowed the pace up dramatically. Vagabond had more than caught on, ears slamming to his neck when he was suddenly caught up to Hokum. The clever Winged Heir colt switched to Hokum's left side, charged up to his barrel even though it was against his style. Justin wanted to wag a teasing finger at Maggie. The blonde woman knew exactly what this movement meant. It meant Hokum was about to run away from them as though they were standing still. Bond's kick was more of a drawn out one, not an instant burst. She cursed Justin for race-riding her, but knew that Bond would not see this set up in the Empire Classic.
Justin did not allow Hokum to pause at the top of the hill, pushed him down it and then pressed the button. The bay charger surged away from Vagabond, kicking up massive amounts of sod into his younger rival. Justin clung to the older horse's neck as he assaulted the ground mercilessly. The old guy still had it... even though he wasn't that old. Hokum dashed through the first two furlongs, tail and mane streaming behind him. Justin glanced under his arm, confident that he had a ton of horse saved up for the final furlong and the Doncaster Cup.
Maggie pushed valiantly against her colt's neck, handriding him to get him up to speed. The colt whacked his tail furiously against her legs, as if trying to tell her that he was doing his best. She halted her encouragement briefly, gathering for more, but was left to wrap her arms around the animal's neck instead. Vagabond switched leads easily, erupting with sudden momentum. He was four lengths behind Hokum and closing, body flattening toward the ground, looking every inch the magnificent thoroughbred he was. She patted the colt's neck when he caught up to Hokum, but failed to get the win by a neck.
"He got too much of a jump on us anyway." She stroked his mane and turned to Justin. "Don't worry. This rivalry is not over."
Justin grinned, "No, it's only just beginning."
The blond girl patted the colt's thick neck, smiling at his gleeful look. The colt was a lover to Maggie, something none of the other colts in the crop could claim. Something most of the older horses couldn't claim to be either. She was glad to have this big growing colt as her partner, especially against the mammoth they would face off with in the first set.
Horseshoes rang against concrete, gathering both Bond and Maggie's attention from their cuddling escapade. Maggie's bright blue eyes narrowed on the well-muscled stallion that was Hokum. He looked stunning this morning with big saucer dapples on his rump. His tail hung all the way to his ankles and his mane was braided up into tight dressage braids. He looked like the performance horse he was and looked more than ready to take back his crown as one of the top handicap horses in the country.
Justin patted his mount's neck, knowing just the picture the Kore VS stud made. He had been meticulous in preparing the horse for this morning's workout. Today, Hokum would have to prove he was worthy of continuing his racing career in the Doncaster Cup. The stallion had been performing consistently on the upper level, but wasn't demonstrating the killer instinct he'd possessed at the age of three. Justin wondered if Hokum was becoming more of a grinder and less of a brilliant animal. He was getting heavier due to maturity and his speed was slightly more limited, but his cunning and raw agility more than made up for the lack. He was just changing. Ripley would see. Justin would make her see. Hokum could get the win in the Doncaster Cup and be the boss he was. Justin would prove it and hope Hokum met him half-way.
Maggie mounted up and led the way out to the turf track. Vagabond strutted boldly ahead of Hokum. He'd been watching this older horse for quite sometime, always entering or leaving the track whenever Hokum arrived or left. Bond wanted to beat Hokum more than ever and, despite his immaturity, Maggie wondered if he could. Vagabond would eventually. She was almost certain of it. Vagabond had a star quality to him, in every glorious muscle. She patted the colt's neck as he stepped from a jog into a hand-gallop. His tail waved out behind him, a black cape behind his impressive physique. The colt pinned his ears when Hokum leaped out to the lead, not sparing a single glance for the hot-shot juvenile. Justin smirked at his horse. Hokum was not one for juvenile nonsense. He would leave this Vagabond colt whimpering in the dust.
Hokum stretched out as he galloped up the hillside, pushing mightily off of his haunches. He rippled with power and strength as he crested it, posing momentarily, before surging down the side. Justin wrapped his hands in the flying black mane, trying to not to let out a nervous laugh. Hokum was sure full of himself today. It reminded Justin of his first ride aboard the haughty animal at the end of his two year old year. Hokum had been a wild-thing, a ball-buster, a tough guy. He'd been the perfect follow up to Justin's wonderful Dazzling Dame. Justin would not let this big animal down, would not allow his first true grade one mount to fall back into the ranks of underdog.
Vagabond rolled behind Hokum, ears pricked on the target. He knew Maggie was going to let him loose in the three furlong stretch. He wasn't a dummy. He'd long since learned that the most important part of the turf races was the final three furlongs. Bond had developed a lethal closing kick and Maggie simply could not wait to hustle the blood bay animal into action. There was a quarter mile left to go and Maggie felt like she was sitting in the pocket spot.
If this had been a true flat race, Justin would have long since made his move aboard the Kore VS stud. He was actually hampered by the hills and it leveled the playing field for the hot-shot juvenile. Vagabond was made for this course. Hokum had to slow his momentum because of the steep hillside right before the flat. Justin relaxed his grip on the reins, breathed deeply, prayed his horse would settle down. Hokum took a giant breath and did just that, slowing down practically upon asking. "Atta boy, Hokum. Just a little longer and then we can put them to bed."
Maggie didn't have to be a scientist to know Justin had just slowed the pace up dramatically. Vagabond had more than caught on, ears slamming to his neck when he was suddenly caught up to Hokum. The clever Winged Heir colt switched to Hokum's left side, charged up to his barrel even though it was against his style. Justin wanted to wag a teasing finger at Maggie. The blonde woman knew exactly what this movement meant. It meant Hokum was about to run away from them as though they were standing still. Bond's kick was more of a drawn out one, not an instant burst. She cursed Justin for race-riding her, but knew that Bond would not see this set up in the Empire Classic.
Justin did not allow Hokum to pause at the top of the hill, pushed him down it and then pressed the button. The bay charger surged away from Vagabond, kicking up massive amounts of sod into his younger rival. Justin clung to the older horse's neck as he assaulted the ground mercilessly. The old guy still had it... even though he wasn't that old. Hokum dashed through the first two furlongs, tail and mane streaming behind him. Justin glanced under his arm, confident that he had a ton of horse saved up for the final furlong and the Doncaster Cup.
Maggie pushed valiantly against her colt's neck, handriding him to get him up to speed. The colt whacked his tail furiously against her legs, as if trying to tell her that he was doing his best. She halted her encouragement briefly, gathering for more, but was left to wrap her arms around the animal's neck instead. Vagabond switched leads easily, erupting with sudden momentum. He was four lengths behind Hokum and closing, body flattening toward the ground, looking every inch the magnificent thoroughbred he was. She patted the colt's neck when he caught up to Hokum, but failed to get the win by a neck.
"He got too much of a jump on us anyway." She stroked his mane and turned to Justin. "Don't worry. This rivalry is not over."
Justin grinned, "No, it's only just beginning."
heroic touch
Ripley was dying to get out to the racetrack. There had been so many meetings this week between herself and the press, between race entries and planning with various people to take horses. It was true Witch Creek was downsizing, but not because they couldn't handle the pressure. If anything, Witch Creek was more than capable of doing some serious damage with a large string. Ripley just wanted more time to focus on the horses that needed it. Now that they were getting to be the big name on the street, Ripley was ready to take a step back and be the dark horse once again.
And boy did she have a quartet of dark horses going into next weeks races. Vagabond, Hokum, Wishing For A Heroine and Saintly Touch could all be classified as underdogs. Heroine had yet to win a race this season, but her record was admirable and she could be considered taking a drop in class off of her last race. Ripley was ready to see if Heroine, her little filly she'd followed since birth, was going to be the Triple Tiara candidate for Witch Creek Stable. Her own colt, Saintly Touch, was looking to sneak attack the two year old division. The near black colt had not gotten a win since January and during his time off his arch-nemesis Great Revenge had reeled off four victories. Saintly Touch was behind on the eight-ball. It was time to get into serious work. There was no time for mistakes or inexperience.
She adjusted the browband with quick fingers, admired the intensity in Saintly Touch's one good eye. Her colt looked every inch the fierce combination of Night Stalker and The Devil's Touch. He would prove that he was a force to be reckoned with on the track as well. This workout was meant to set him up for a standout performance. "Good, strong workout today, big horse. We've got to show those hard-boots you're not overrated."
"Please. Those hardboots know Saint isn't overrated. He's too tough to beat in his races to be overrated. What's the distance today?" Ripley smiled as Maggie stepped into the entrance of the two year old barn. Wishing For A Heroine hung back, dark eyes wide with excitement, body bristling with energy. The chocolate filly looked fantastic with dapples the size of silver dollars on her rump. She nickered to Saint, pranced excitedly on her hind end. "We'll do a six furlong workout today. Not too much gallop before hand. We'll them gallop out after the workout, give them a chance to breathe."
The women mounted up and headed toward the track. Heroine skittered down the path, hide twitching and shoes ringing with her nervous steps. Heroine had enough energy for five horses and the only place to let it out was on the track. The filly was scary fast and, once running, the easiest horse to ride. Maggie stroked the filly's sleek neck, smiling to herself. Heroine was a lovely horse, the complete opposite of her grade two half sister Wish Upon A Star. She had raw talent and crazy speed. She was precocious and fierce. Maggie adored her and the adrenaline she brought every gallop and workout. They were, heart and soul, partners.
Partners, Ripley thought. Saint and I are partners. It was true. Saint was so tuned to Ripley's wishes, a simple thought could cause the seal brown colt to move from trot to hand-gallop, a simple brush of the hand, or lifting of the weight. The classically built colt moved into his long, ground-eating gallop with relative ease. He commanded attention and acted every bit the professional he was. He had a ton of class and a ton of courage. He was a hard horse to beat and Saint was tired of getting beat by a horse named Great Revenge. She leaned close as the colt rolled into the backstretch, legs moving so quickly that they were blurred. Her green eyes flashed with excitement. She adored this colt for everything he was. He truly was a Witch Creek horse. She kept her hands light at the colt's neck, nodded when Maggie nudged Wishing For A Heroine by.
The sleek, rangy filly needed as much space as possible to get into gear. She had long, long legs made for roaring wide off of turns and yet, she was scary agile. Maggie could feel the promised speed tingling at her finger tips. Heroine was as slippery as a fish and when she got the cue to go, she never labored. The bay filly's ears pinned back into her mane when Saint engaged her from the inside, not content to fall back as per usual. The Everyday Hero filly didn't mind a little company, but she couldn't resist squealing in annoyance when he remained at her side. Maggie snapped the reins at Heroine, drawing her attention back to the job.
Almost on cue, Heroine and Saint leaped into their workout. Not surprisingly, Heroine nabbed the lead first, daring Saint to take her on from the beginning. Too smart for such nonsense, the seal brown colt finally leveled off and settled a length behind her. Ripley kept her hands loose on the reins, but tight on the black mane. When Saint decided he'd had enough of tracking the sassy filly, he was not going to wait for Ripley to decide. They'd become too alike in mind that it would've mattered anyway. The Night Stalker colt lowered his head and neck, gearing down for the duration of the workout. The stretch would come up quickly, but the turn would come faster. The turn was where Heroine made her move and put distance between her rivals.
She was a dangerous filly if there ever was one. No one expected Heroine to be so consistently good, but when she was on, Heroine was on. Maggie could feel that the sleek horse was coming into her own. She cruised through the first four furlongs with effortless ease. She had it all, precision, stamina, courage, ability. Heroine was going to be a major threat come end of the season. Maggie's eyes flashed as Heroine rocketed into the turn, her head cocked slightly inward. She listened for Saint, knew that whatever breather Heroine had gotten would come in handy at this point.
Sure enough, Saintly Touch dashed up the inside, body hulking and sleek. He always looked tougher and somehow more intimidating in mid-flight. His ears were pinned in the waving black flame of his mane. His hooves cut through the dirt murderously. He was a looker and something fierce. He was a formidable opponent. Heroine responded to the challenge with a swift burst of speed, but Saint was rolling and she could not put the distance between them. Maggie lightly encouraged the three year old filly to go on with it. She did. She flew over the course with the black burr attached to her left shoulder. She could not shake, but she damn well would not let him pass. Maggie smiled at the gutsiness of her high energy filly. Heroine was tough as nails, fiery and smart.
Ripley admired Heroine's mental ability to handle the inside pressure, prided in it. At one point, this never would have happened. Heroine would have ducked out a long time ago. But she was fending off Saint quite well. Ripley flicked the reins, signaled for a lead change and nearly laughed when the horse switched leads on command. He powered up to run head and head with the chocolate filly just fifty yards from the wire. Heroine was on, but so was Saint. He'd gotten a couple races in since his month long layoff and was absolutely ready to roll. This next start, the real Saint would be ready to meet Great Revenge. It would be a true horse race when they hooked up in the stretch.
Heroine blew outward when Maggie let her loose, let the leathers soar through her fingers. The lanky filly shook her head, pinned her ears at Saint when he bulled by. She didn't like him very much anymore. Maggie was happy she didn't like Saint, was happy that Saint had given Heroine a run for her money. That run had probably boosted them for their start in the Kentucky Oaks. Maggie could hardly wait to hear that call to post. Her filly was ready for a run in the filly major leagues. Maggie would be her partner for their moment in the sun and would revel in it.
And boy did she have a quartet of dark horses going into next weeks races. Vagabond, Hokum, Wishing For A Heroine and Saintly Touch could all be classified as underdogs. Heroine had yet to win a race this season, but her record was admirable and she could be considered taking a drop in class off of her last race. Ripley was ready to see if Heroine, her little filly she'd followed since birth, was going to be the Triple Tiara candidate for Witch Creek Stable. Her own colt, Saintly Touch, was looking to sneak attack the two year old division. The near black colt had not gotten a win since January and during his time off his arch-nemesis Great Revenge had reeled off four victories. Saintly Touch was behind on the eight-ball. It was time to get into serious work. There was no time for mistakes or inexperience.
She adjusted the browband with quick fingers, admired the intensity in Saintly Touch's one good eye. Her colt looked every inch the fierce combination of Night Stalker and The Devil's Touch. He would prove that he was a force to be reckoned with on the track as well. This workout was meant to set him up for a standout performance. "Good, strong workout today, big horse. We've got to show those hard-boots you're not overrated."
"Please. Those hardboots know Saint isn't overrated. He's too tough to beat in his races to be overrated. What's the distance today?" Ripley smiled as Maggie stepped into the entrance of the two year old barn. Wishing For A Heroine hung back, dark eyes wide with excitement, body bristling with energy. The chocolate filly looked fantastic with dapples the size of silver dollars on her rump. She nickered to Saint, pranced excitedly on her hind end. "We'll do a six furlong workout today. Not too much gallop before hand. We'll them gallop out after the workout, give them a chance to breathe."
The women mounted up and headed toward the track. Heroine skittered down the path, hide twitching and shoes ringing with her nervous steps. Heroine had enough energy for five horses and the only place to let it out was on the track. The filly was scary fast and, once running, the easiest horse to ride. Maggie stroked the filly's sleek neck, smiling to herself. Heroine was a lovely horse, the complete opposite of her grade two half sister Wish Upon A Star. She had raw talent and crazy speed. She was precocious and fierce. Maggie adored her and the adrenaline she brought every gallop and workout. They were, heart and soul, partners.
Partners, Ripley thought. Saint and I are partners. It was true. Saint was so tuned to Ripley's wishes, a simple thought could cause the seal brown colt to move from trot to hand-gallop, a simple brush of the hand, or lifting of the weight. The classically built colt moved into his long, ground-eating gallop with relative ease. He commanded attention and acted every bit the professional he was. He had a ton of class and a ton of courage. He was a hard horse to beat and Saint was tired of getting beat by a horse named Great Revenge. She leaned close as the colt rolled into the backstretch, legs moving so quickly that they were blurred. Her green eyes flashed with excitement. She adored this colt for everything he was. He truly was a Witch Creek horse. She kept her hands light at the colt's neck, nodded when Maggie nudged Wishing For A Heroine by.
The sleek, rangy filly needed as much space as possible to get into gear. She had long, long legs made for roaring wide off of turns and yet, she was scary agile. Maggie could feel the promised speed tingling at her finger tips. Heroine was as slippery as a fish and when she got the cue to go, she never labored. The bay filly's ears pinned back into her mane when Saint engaged her from the inside, not content to fall back as per usual. The Everyday Hero filly didn't mind a little company, but she couldn't resist squealing in annoyance when he remained at her side. Maggie snapped the reins at Heroine, drawing her attention back to the job.
Almost on cue, Heroine and Saint leaped into their workout. Not surprisingly, Heroine nabbed the lead first, daring Saint to take her on from the beginning. Too smart for such nonsense, the seal brown colt finally leveled off and settled a length behind her. Ripley kept her hands loose on the reins, but tight on the black mane. When Saint decided he'd had enough of tracking the sassy filly, he was not going to wait for Ripley to decide. They'd become too alike in mind that it would've mattered anyway. The Night Stalker colt lowered his head and neck, gearing down for the duration of the workout. The stretch would come up quickly, but the turn would come faster. The turn was where Heroine made her move and put distance between her rivals.
She was a dangerous filly if there ever was one. No one expected Heroine to be so consistently good, but when she was on, Heroine was on. Maggie could feel that the sleek horse was coming into her own. She cruised through the first four furlongs with effortless ease. She had it all, precision, stamina, courage, ability. Heroine was going to be a major threat come end of the season. Maggie's eyes flashed as Heroine rocketed into the turn, her head cocked slightly inward. She listened for Saint, knew that whatever breather Heroine had gotten would come in handy at this point.
Sure enough, Saintly Touch dashed up the inside, body hulking and sleek. He always looked tougher and somehow more intimidating in mid-flight. His ears were pinned in the waving black flame of his mane. His hooves cut through the dirt murderously. He was a looker and something fierce. He was a formidable opponent. Heroine responded to the challenge with a swift burst of speed, but Saint was rolling and she could not put the distance between them. Maggie lightly encouraged the three year old filly to go on with it. She did. She flew over the course with the black burr attached to her left shoulder. She could not shake, but she damn well would not let him pass. Maggie smiled at the gutsiness of her high energy filly. Heroine was tough as nails, fiery and smart.
Ripley admired Heroine's mental ability to handle the inside pressure, prided in it. At one point, this never would have happened. Heroine would have ducked out a long time ago. But she was fending off Saint quite well. Ripley flicked the reins, signaled for a lead change and nearly laughed when the horse switched leads on command. He powered up to run head and head with the chocolate filly just fifty yards from the wire. Heroine was on, but so was Saint. He'd gotten a couple races in since his month long layoff and was absolutely ready to roll. This next start, the real Saint would be ready to meet Great Revenge. It would be a true horse race when they hooked up in the stretch.
Heroine blew outward when Maggie let her loose, let the leathers soar through her fingers. The lanky filly shook her head, pinned her ears at Saint when he bulled by. She didn't like him very much anymore. Maggie was happy she didn't like Saint, was happy that Saint had given Heroine a run for her money. That run had probably boosted them for their start in the Kentucky Oaks. Maggie could hardly wait to hear that call to post. Her filly was ready for a run in the filly major leagues. Maggie would be her partner for their moment in the sun and would revel in it.