June Week Two
masterful king
Brooks nodded his head in approval as he looked over Sun King. The chestnut colt was growing into his skin. No longer was he thin and empty looking. Now his shoulders bulged with muscle, his hind end was thick and, boy, was it powerful. His dark eyes gleamed was brazen glory, arrogance and a slight meanness. If any colt was setting up for a strong second half of the season it was Sun King. The Native Flame and El Sol del Mar combination had produced a colt of immense cruising speed and lasting power. He was going to develop into the next Red Herring at this rate. Brooks loved this colt a lot, thought he would stand out despite the overwhelming shadows struck by Mastermind and Eternal Phantom. Sun King would not fade away like Midnight Thriller had faded. She had been transferred from barn to barn in an attempt to capture a piece of the hall of fame glory. Sun King was here to stay.
Brooks could not help but draw comparisons when Ripley rode up to the two year old barn aboard Mastermind. The woman's eyes were gleaming and why shouldn't they? Mastermind had won five Horse Of the Year qualifying races and was at five points. The only other older horses with that same amount were Eternal Phantom and Forbidden To Fly, a rival of Mastermind's that he had defeated twice last year at three. Mastermind was a different horse this year and his season had not started off on a rocky start like it had last year. Mastermind was shooting bullets and they were hitting the bulls-eye every time. Ripley was proud of her horse, but still proud of Eternal Phantom as well. After all, Eternal Phantom and Mastermind were both offspring of her Hall of Fame mare El Sol del Mar. When did it happen that two horse of the year candidates were born to the same broodmare? Very rarely.
Ripley patted Mastermind and couldn't help drawing comparisons between her horse and Brooks'. Mastermind was chiseled to perfection and a picture of elegance. Sun King, with his thicker head and thicker body, looked like an athlete capable of delivering a big blow. He was the longer distanced runner, but not by much. Mastermind had aged well and looked as though he could learn to run as far as the classic distance of ten furlongs. Ripley could hardly wait. She knew Sun King would be able to get ten furlongs, he'd already run and won at that distance. He was growing into himself and already the same height Mastermind had been at age three. It was likely he would grow since he had been sired by a mammoth in Native Flame, Aging would be to Sun King's benefit, Ripley just hoped that the speed increased with the more muscle and body that Sun King gained.
'I'm ready when you are Brooks," Ripley said, smiling at the man who looked content just watching his mount. Brooks smiled back, patted Sun King's forehead and lead the dark chestnut from the barn. The two year old colt snorted at Mastermind, demanding the older horse's respect. Mastermind merely cocked an ear, not fooled for a second. The colt was too much of a hot-shot to be a real threat at the moment. Nonetheless, Ripley could feel Mastermind cock a hoof in warning. The horse was not a fool and did not trust easy. Especially when it came to belligerent two year old horses.
Sun King strode alongside Mastermind with his eyes blazing and his tail waving. He was a son of a gun alright, Brooks thought. The colt's presence irritated Mastermind quite a bit, enough to have him pin his ears and threaten savaging. Ripley pulled the stallion off Sun King at the last second, but would have allowed him to attack if she'd known Sun King would return with a fierce blow. The thick chestnut colt spun on a dime and kicked out powerfully, just missing Mastermind's left leg. Ripley gasped, knowing how close and how destructive that kick could have been. Brooks nearly lost it. He jerked the colt backward, backing him rapidly up the hill, making him use the butt that he was so keen to use against his half-brother. Jerking hands and quick feet kept the now stunned colt on his toes. Mouth agape, Sun King twisted violently, wanting to rid himself of the rider right NOW.
Brooks gamely hung in there, keeping his seat with determination and strength. If the Native Flame colt wanted him off, he was going to have to put in incredible effort to do so. Such intense exercise would not help the colt when it came to working out with Mastermind. If any horse knew about conserving energy, it was Sun King's older half-brother. Without further ado, Brooks allowed the colt to step onto the track yards behind Mastermind.
Ripley put the close call in the back of her mind as she allowed Mastermind to kick into a long-striding gallop. He was a beast these days, gallop, workout or race. He flexed his neck muscle, pulling on the bit and Ripley. She stood in the stirrup, allowed the horse to roll along. He was a good horse Mastermind, the toughest. He rolled over the track with brilliance and strength. He was the type of horse to carry his track. It didn't matter if he trained every day on it, though he'd raced over both Green Horse Fields and The Wire's plenty of times over the years. He stepped up to every occasion and it was likely he would step up to the plate again in the Stephen Foster Handicap.
Brooks gritted his teeth as the reins burned through his hands. Sun King was definitely on the muscle. He'd sensed the threat in Mastermind and was not happy he'd been rebuked for his attack. Mastermind now had a target on his back. The unmarked chestnut bounded up on Mastermind's outside, his ears pinned back into his flame colored mane. His eyes blazed with belligerence and sheer loathing. Mastermind had embarrassed him and made him take punishment. He was now an enemy.
The colts looked like mirror images but for the star glinting on Mastermind's head. He was becoming agitated with the upstart, annoyed at his need to break the routine. The duo galloped powerfully through the mile, demanding one another to keep pace. Ripley could sense that the gauntlet was about to be run by both horses. Mastermind would not allow this young horse to win and the young horse was going to do everything in his power to take down Mastermind. Ripley let her hands lower to Mastermind's withers, pulling the reins just slightly tighter to remind the stallion she was there. She would have noticed Brooks do the same, albeit with a stronger hold.
It was only going to be a five furlong workout this time, just to take the edge off of them. Ripley let out a long breath before the allowing the reins to slide through her gloved hands. Mastermind extended into his full running stride, owning the track that had been his since his two year old season. Sun King followed with a more effortless stride, proving that he had just as much raw ability if not more than Mastermind. Whether or not Brooks could control that talent and mold it the way Ripley had molded Mastermind's remained to be seen.
Sun King remained prominent at Mastermind's throatlatch, eyes gleaming with intent. Mastermind's glinted with purpose as he vaulted into the far turn. He would show this horse what it took to be a champion. As with every recent race, Ripley felt the rev coming. Mastermind was about to destroy Sun King. She didn't dare glance at Brooks, remaining absolutely still in the saddle. It was going to happen in three, two, one....
Brooks didn't have time to orient himself before Mastermind was streaking away into the homestretch. Sun King looked a little dazed, finding himself buried in a cloud of dust and dirt. Mastermind had practically skipped away as though Sun King had been standing still. Together, horse and rider amped up at the same exact moment. Sun King pushed impressively off his rear end, flinging himself three wide off the turn in pursuit of the ever-powerful Mastermind. Brooks knew Ripley had allowed Mastermind to run away from King. She'd been sitting chilly and knew that Mastermind needed to humble the colt. Humble he had, but he had not crushed the spirit.
Sun King swallowed the ground with big leaping strides, ears pinned back and mouth agape. He was driven beyond reasonable dislike. He would not be surprised or made to look like a fool the next time he faced Mastermind. Brooks was impressed as he counted off the furlongs. Sub-eleven fractions for the Native Flame colt. He was a running fool as he sprinted through the wire and caught up to Mastermind on the gallop out. That particular horse had crossed only seconds before, but under no encouragement to continue past the wire. Mastermind snorted at the brazen colt. Ripley could tell he found crushing the youngster pretty funny. But Ripley's eyes were on Sun King as he wheeled by them back into the homestretch. She knew Mastermind was great, potentially the greatest horse she'd ever trained, but his half-brother was no slacker. What he was was a possible star in the making.
Brooks could not help but draw comparisons when Ripley rode up to the two year old barn aboard Mastermind. The woman's eyes were gleaming and why shouldn't they? Mastermind had won five Horse Of the Year qualifying races and was at five points. The only other older horses with that same amount were Eternal Phantom and Forbidden To Fly, a rival of Mastermind's that he had defeated twice last year at three. Mastermind was a different horse this year and his season had not started off on a rocky start like it had last year. Mastermind was shooting bullets and they were hitting the bulls-eye every time. Ripley was proud of her horse, but still proud of Eternal Phantom as well. After all, Eternal Phantom and Mastermind were both offspring of her Hall of Fame mare El Sol del Mar. When did it happen that two horse of the year candidates were born to the same broodmare? Very rarely.
Ripley patted Mastermind and couldn't help drawing comparisons between her horse and Brooks'. Mastermind was chiseled to perfection and a picture of elegance. Sun King, with his thicker head and thicker body, looked like an athlete capable of delivering a big blow. He was the longer distanced runner, but not by much. Mastermind had aged well and looked as though he could learn to run as far as the classic distance of ten furlongs. Ripley could hardly wait. She knew Sun King would be able to get ten furlongs, he'd already run and won at that distance. He was growing into himself and already the same height Mastermind had been at age three. It was likely he would grow since he had been sired by a mammoth in Native Flame, Aging would be to Sun King's benefit, Ripley just hoped that the speed increased with the more muscle and body that Sun King gained.
'I'm ready when you are Brooks," Ripley said, smiling at the man who looked content just watching his mount. Brooks smiled back, patted Sun King's forehead and lead the dark chestnut from the barn. The two year old colt snorted at Mastermind, demanding the older horse's respect. Mastermind merely cocked an ear, not fooled for a second. The colt was too much of a hot-shot to be a real threat at the moment. Nonetheless, Ripley could feel Mastermind cock a hoof in warning. The horse was not a fool and did not trust easy. Especially when it came to belligerent two year old horses.
Sun King strode alongside Mastermind with his eyes blazing and his tail waving. He was a son of a gun alright, Brooks thought. The colt's presence irritated Mastermind quite a bit, enough to have him pin his ears and threaten savaging. Ripley pulled the stallion off Sun King at the last second, but would have allowed him to attack if she'd known Sun King would return with a fierce blow. The thick chestnut colt spun on a dime and kicked out powerfully, just missing Mastermind's left leg. Ripley gasped, knowing how close and how destructive that kick could have been. Brooks nearly lost it. He jerked the colt backward, backing him rapidly up the hill, making him use the butt that he was so keen to use against his half-brother. Jerking hands and quick feet kept the now stunned colt on his toes. Mouth agape, Sun King twisted violently, wanting to rid himself of the rider right NOW.
Brooks gamely hung in there, keeping his seat with determination and strength. If the Native Flame colt wanted him off, he was going to have to put in incredible effort to do so. Such intense exercise would not help the colt when it came to working out with Mastermind. If any horse knew about conserving energy, it was Sun King's older half-brother. Without further ado, Brooks allowed the colt to step onto the track yards behind Mastermind.
Ripley put the close call in the back of her mind as she allowed Mastermind to kick into a long-striding gallop. He was a beast these days, gallop, workout or race. He flexed his neck muscle, pulling on the bit and Ripley. She stood in the stirrup, allowed the horse to roll along. He was a good horse Mastermind, the toughest. He rolled over the track with brilliance and strength. He was the type of horse to carry his track. It didn't matter if he trained every day on it, though he'd raced over both Green Horse Fields and The Wire's plenty of times over the years. He stepped up to every occasion and it was likely he would step up to the plate again in the Stephen Foster Handicap.
Brooks gritted his teeth as the reins burned through his hands. Sun King was definitely on the muscle. He'd sensed the threat in Mastermind and was not happy he'd been rebuked for his attack. Mastermind now had a target on his back. The unmarked chestnut bounded up on Mastermind's outside, his ears pinned back into his flame colored mane. His eyes blazed with belligerence and sheer loathing. Mastermind had embarrassed him and made him take punishment. He was now an enemy.
The colts looked like mirror images but for the star glinting on Mastermind's head. He was becoming agitated with the upstart, annoyed at his need to break the routine. The duo galloped powerfully through the mile, demanding one another to keep pace. Ripley could sense that the gauntlet was about to be run by both horses. Mastermind would not allow this young horse to win and the young horse was going to do everything in his power to take down Mastermind. Ripley let her hands lower to Mastermind's withers, pulling the reins just slightly tighter to remind the stallion she was there. She would have noticed Brooks do the same, albeit with a stronger hold.
It was only going to be a five furlong workout this time, just to take the edge off of them. Ripley let out a long breath before the allowing the reins to slide through her gloved hands. Mastermind extended into his full running stride, owning the track that had been his since his two year old season. Sun King followed with a more effortless stride, proving that he had just as much raw ability if not more than Mastermind. Whether or not Brooks could control that talent and mold it the way Ripley had molded Mastermind's remained to be seen.
Sun King remained prominent at Mastermind's throatlatch, eyes gleaming with intent. Mastermind's glinted with purpose as he vaulted into the far turn. He would show this horse what it took to be a champion. As with every recent race, Ripley felt the rev coming. Mastermind was about to destroy Sun King. She didn't dare glance at Brooks, remaining absolutely still in the saddle. It was going to happen in three, two, one....
Brooks didn't have time to orient himself before Mastermind was streaking away into the homestretch. Sun King looked a little dazed, finding himself buried in a cloud of dust and dirt. Mastermind had practically skipped away as though Sun King had been standing still. Together, horse and rider amped up at the same exact moment. Sun King pushed impressively off his rear end, flinging himself three wide off the turn in pursuit of the ever-powerful Mastermind. Brooks knew Ripley had allowed Mastermind to run away from King. She'd been sitting chilly and knew that Mastermind needed to humble the colt. Humble he had, but he had not crushed the spirit.
Sun King swallowed the ground with big leaping strides, ears pinned back and mouth agape. He was driven beyond reasonable dislike. He would not be surprised or made to look like a fool the next time he faced Mastermind. Brooks was impressed as he counted off the furlongs. Sub-eleven fractions for the Native Flame colt. He was a running fool as he sprinted through the wire and caught up to Mastermind on the gallop out. That particular horse had crossed only seconds before, but under no encouragement to continue past the wire. Mastermind snorted at the brazen colt. Ripley could tell he found crushing the youngster pretty funny. But Ripley's eyes were on Sun King as he wheeled by them back into the homestretch. She knew Mastermind was great, potentially the greatest horse she'd ever trained, but his half-brother was no slacker. What he was was a possible star in the making.
optimum peace
Laura felt like it had been ages since she'd ridden a horse in a workout. Racing had been the name of the game and so had the changing of the roster. Ripley was a very good trainer in the sense that she knew when horses were not getting along with the Witch Creek lifestyle. Rather than keeping them and making them miserable, the woman sent them along with a kiss goodbye in hopes that their new home would be the right one. One horse in the next set was on the boundary line of leaving. However, Ripley was wavering and Optimus Unstoppable had one thing Prima Donna hadn't had: a bull-headed, opinionated Brookson Wells.
Laura eyed Brooks as he tacked up the dynamite stick of Optimus Unstoppable. The colt was a loose cannon lately. His loss had been dramatic and his attitude had skyrocketed since then. The Shiver Me Timbers colt pinned his ears every time Brooks neared him, eyes blazing with fury. He was biting the hand that was keeping him here, but at least he was showing some spirit. Nirvana stood calmly beside Laura, eyeing the star-marked bay warily. Vana reminded Laura a lot of Flawed Princess. The older mare had possessed wisdom beyond her years and it could be seen within her proud, kind gaze. That wisdom had been particularly important for track life. Vana was like Amira in every way. She had that burning passion for winning, but had the attitude to remain calm enough on the track and wait for her cue. Their partnership was still developing, but Laura believed they were getting closer to the key. Vana was just missing in her races now, just on the edge of grade four. She would make it to the wire first and Laura knew that time would come when everything fell into place.
Brooks was in the similar frame of mind when it came to Optimus Unstoppable. The bay colt had been important to snag, in the way that Ashes to Ashes had been in Year Twelve. He couldn't explain why, perhaps it was the colt's honesty on the track, his consistency, his demonic drive even in face of too much competition. Surely it was his talent if anything. The colt was a bloody quick horse, particularly out of the gate. He just needed several reminders to slow down and that speed became brutally dangerous. Brooks knew that the next start in the Boy's Party Stakes was going to be Optimus' opportunity to shine.
Brooks had been pondering for weeks what would happen when those gates open, releasing Optimus and five others onto the dirt track for the six furlong race. The race was loaded with speed horses and originally, Brooks had been plotting to gun for the lead and dare everyone to catch him. That plan had died the minute Tears No More had been entered. The Nature Blue Stables colt was the class of the field and the most proven sprinter of the lot. Running head to head with that particular horse and being pressured by the likes of Mighty News, Flashpoint and Alucard would have been suicide. So no longer would Optimus gun for the lead. The furthest runner back was Flashpoint as it stood... Well now the standings were changing.
Brooks mounted up, guided Optimus out of the barn, his blue eyes sparking with determination. This time Optimus would show that he belonged in this elite group of sprinters. He would not walk home with his tail between his legs. He would not have a target on his back. They, the four others, would have a target on theirs. Optimus would close and what better horse to close alongside than Nirvana in this workout. She was the deepest closer they'd ever had at Witch Creek. She'd come from twelve lengths out of it to miss in her last couple of starts. Her kick was not a long-grinding effort though. It was brilliant and bloody fast.
Laura would have appreciated the comments whooshing through Brooks' brain. Her filly was a steam engine and despite her easy-going attitude, her late kick betrayed her inner-fire. She was the Paranormal Hunter and Infinite Warcry of the turf. Hopefully, Vana would take a turn in her three year old season like Para had and prove very tough to beat. Laura patted the filly's neck as she released her into a ground-eating gallop. Vana was not a pretty mover in the slightest. She was heavy and as comfy as a couch.
Optimus was not as comfortable. He vaulted over the course, neck bowed, chin touching his chest. The bay looked proud despite his small size, a rottweiler in a terrier's body. He was a small horse, smaller than Nirvana, but he was tough and he was courageous. He snorted with every determined stride, but Brooks noted, quite happily, that he did not snatch at the bit. He rolled over the course, happy with the easy pace and seemed to enjoy lingering. There was quite the potential for an impressive closing effort in the Boy's Party.
Vana moved efficiently over the course, steadily clicking off the mile gallop fractions. The blaze marked filly loped into the stretch, steadily picking up the pace until her black-stockinged legs blurred beneath her. Optimus continued to whip along at the rail, urging Vana to pick up the pace. Laura knew that Vana would once again find a target to run at in Optimus. Optimus was the most rateable of the sprinters, but he was quicker than Vana by a long-shot. It would be a game of cat and mouse. She was ready for it, beyond ready.
The two bays strode impressively through the first four furlongs of the workout, galloping in tandem without turning a hair. Brooks kept a good hold on Optimus, noted that the star-marked horse was very into the bridle. When he needed the horse, there would be plenty. Vana charged along on a loose rein, but her eyes were gleaming with intelligence and interest. The homestretch was coming up quickly.
Laura put Vana to a drive half-way through the homestretch, smiling when Optimus reacted on the rail and burst away. So long as he was allowed to linger at the back, the firework of a colt would be fine. Vana quickened, not fast enough to keep up with Optimus, but remain in contact. Her big strides carried her four wide off the turn, giving her all of the momentum. Optimus surged three lengths ahead, tail snapping behind him in the wind. Brooks was leaning close, but his hands were still. If Vana caught Optimus, it would be a dog-fight to the wire.
Brooks did not have to glance under his arm to know that Vana was driving on their outside. Her hoofbeats were loud and imposing, but Optimus was too focused to care. He knew she was there, but she still had to catch him. The muscular filly reached his barrel when the colt flicked into high gear. Their ears pinned simultaneously. Optimus would not find a closer to push him to his limit in the Boy's Party. Brooks hoped to be sitting in the captain's seat come race time. If Optimus had a target, he would be able to conserve and outstay the sprinter. But Vana's drive let Brooks know that when Optimus did face another closer, he would be more than ready for the challenge.
The horses roared beneath the wire, drowning out the doubts and fears.
Laura eyed Brooks as he tacked up the dynamite stick of Optimus Unstoppable. The colt was a loose cannon lately. His loss had been dramatic and his attitude had skyrocketed since then. The Shiver Me Timbers colt pinned his ears every time Brooks neared him, eyes blazing with fury. He was biting the hand that was keeping him here, but at least he was showing some spirit. Nirvana stood calmly beside Laura, eyeing the star-marked bay warily. Vana reminded Laura a lot of Flawed Princess. The older mare had possessed wisdom beyond her years and it could be seen within her proud, kind gaze. That wisdom had been particularly important for track life. Vana was like Amira in every way. She had that burning passion for winning, but had the attitude to remain calm enough on the track and wait for her cue. Their partnership was still developing, but Laura believed they were getting closer to the key. Vana was just missing in her races now, just on the edge of grade four. She would make it to the wire first and Laura knew that time would come when everything fell into place.
Brooks was in the similar frame of mind when it came to Optimus Unstoppable. The bay colt had been important to snag, in the way that Ashes to Ashes had been in Year Twelve. He couldn't explain why, perhaps it was the colt's honesty on the track, his consistency, his demonic drive even in face of too much competition. Surely it was his talent if anything. The colt was a bloody quick horse, particularly out of the gate. He just needed several reminders to slow down and that speed became brutally dangerous. Brooks knew that the next start in the Boy's Party Stakes was going to be Optimus' opportunity to shine.
Brooks had been pondering for weeks what would happen when those gates open, releasing Optimus and five others onto the dirt track for the six furlong race. The race was loaded with speed horses and originally, Brooks had been plotting to gun for the lead and dare everyone to catch him. That plan had died the minute Tears No More had been entered. The Nature Blue Stables colt was the class of the field and the most proven sprinter of the lot. Running head to head with that particular horse and being pressured by the likes of Mighty News, Flashpoint and Alucard would have been suicide. So no longer would Optimus gun for the lead. The furthest runner back was Flashpoint as it stood... Well now the standings were changing.
Brooks mounted up, guided Optimus out of the barn, his blue eyes sparking with determination. This time Optimus would show that he belonged in this elite group of sprinters. He would not walk home with his tail between his legs. He would not have a target on his back. They, the four others, would have a target on theirs. Optimus would close and what better horse to close alongside than Nirvana in this workout. She was the deepest closer they'd ever had at Witch Creek. She'd come from twelve lengths out of it to miss in her last couple of starts. Her kick was not a long-grinding effort though. It was brilliant and bloody fast.
Laura would have appreciated the comments whooshing through Brooks' brain. Her filly was a steam engine and despite her easy-going attitude, her late kick betrayed her inner-fire. She was the Paranormal Hunter and Infinite Warcry of the turf. Hopefully, Vana would take a turn in her three year old season like Para had and prove very tough to beat. Laura patted the filly's neck as she released her into a ground-eating gallop. Vana was not a pretty mover in the slightest. She was heavy and as comfy as a couch.
Optimus was not as comfortable. He vaulted over the course, neck bowed, chin touching his chest. The bay looked proud despite his small size, a rottweiler in a terrier's body. He was a small horse, smaller than Nirvana, but he was tough and he was courageous. He snorted with every determined stride, but Brooks noted, quite happily, that he did not snatch at the bit. He rolled over the course, happy with the easy pace and seemed to enjoy lingering. There was quite the potential for an impressive closing effort in the Boy's Party.
Vana moved efficiently over the course, steadily clicking off the mile gallop fractions. The blaze marked filly loped into the stretch, steadily picking up the pace until her black-stockinged legs blurred beneath her. Optimus continued to whip along at the rail, urging Vana to pick up the pace. Laura knew that Vana would once again find a target to run at in Optimus. Optimus was the most rateable of the sprinters, but he was quicker than Vana by a long-shot. It would be a game of cat and mouse. She was ready for it, beyond ready.
The two bays strode impressively through the first four furlongs of the workout, galloping in tandem without turning a hair. Brooks kept a good hold on Optimus, noted that the star-marked horse was very into the bridle. When he needed the horse, there would be plenty. Vana charged along on a loose rein, but her eyes were gleaming with intelligence and interest. The homestretch was coming up quickly.
Laura put Vana to a drive half-way through the homestretch, smiling when Optimus reacted on the rail and burst away. So long as he was allowed to linger at the back, the firework of a colt would be fine. Vana quickened, not fast enough to keep up with Optimus, but remain in contact. Her big strides carried her four wide off the turn, giving her all of the momentum. Optimus surged three lengths ahead, tail snapping behind him in the wind. Brooks was leaning close, but his hands were still. If Vana caught Optimus, it would be a dog-fight to the wire.
Brooks did not have to glance under his arm to know that Vana was driving on their outside. Her hoofbeats were loud and imposing, but Optimus was too focused to care. He knew she was there, but she still had to catch him. The muscular filly reached his barrel when the colt flicked into high gear. Their ears pinned simultaneously. Optimus would not find a closer to push him to his limit in the Boy's Party. Brooks hoped to be sitting in the captain's seat come race time. If Optimus had a target, he would be able to conserve and outstay the sprinter. But Vana's drive let Brooks know that when Optimus did face another closer, he would be more than ready for the challenge.
The horses roared beneath the wire, drowning out the doubts and fears.
golden opportunity
"All I know is this is going to be a grudge match for the ages," Brooks said between clenched teeth. Ripley had wanted to put these particular horses head to head the minute she had gotten wind of Amarillo Sky coming to Witch Creek. The bay horse had caught Ripley's eye on the track with his gung-ho attitude and his thrilling drives from gate to wire. Amarillo Sky was a persistent bugger who never gave up and waved the white flag. Witch Creek had one of those horses as well. In the form of a chestnut horse with more bite than bark. Her green eyes shifted from the thick bay stallion to the athletic to a fault chestnut. Spotlight Pride's eyes were filled with nervousness and fear, Amarillo Sky's with absolute fury and loathing. The two fed off each other like predator and prey. Pride was easily undermined and shaken up when he was caught between a rock and a hard place.
The colt sweated nervously at the shoulder, ear flicking as he listened to Reese's patient crooning. Rillo watched the colt with his fierce gaze, pawed the rubber mats to intensify his fury. Brooks slapped the horse's shoulder, forced him to back away and take his imperious gaze from the flaming colt. "Enough, horse!" Rillo shook his black mane furiously, would have bared his teeth if he knew he could get away with it. Brooks had stirred up instant respect in the horse for some unknown reason. The stallion tolerated him enough to not take him down without remorse. That was very fortunate for Brooks because Rillo had nearly savaged Malcolm when he'd gone to retrieve the horse from Valkyrie. Rillo was extremely selective as to who handled him.
Pride needed kid gloves because of his timid nature, but once he got on the grass, nothing could hold the horse back.Reese believed the chestnut colt to be the most precocious and currently best two year old in the Year Twelve crop. There was something extra special about the athletic colt, something that screamed ethereal beauty and brilliance. Pride's dark eyes glittered with fear now, but they would take on a look of outright defiance when he got to the track.
The humans walked out of the barn, chatting among themselves while the horses assessed each other and the environment. Amarillo Sky towered over the sleek chestnut, his muscles roiled with power and strength. He was beautiful and mighty, he looked every inch the Augusto son he was. His nasty streak was of no relevance to Brooks who sat aboard the bay stallion. Rillo rippled with confidence and might. He shouldn't have been easy to control, but he rode like a dream. Brooks patted the horse's shoulder, grinned when Rillo pinned his ears. He was a bad-tempered mule, but he sure as hell could run. Brooks hoped the horse moved up in the ranks, competing in Horse Of The Year races instead of just the under-card. There was potential for Rillo to battle with In Front and Mastermind for the honor of running in the Breeders' Cup Classic. Mastermind still had to prove he had to get the distance after all. In Front, despite his recent impressive performances, still was only a grade four runner.
Pride bounced on his toes while Ripley held firmly on his bridle. The plain chestnut was known to break off early in his exercise and while Ripley had few doubts that Amarillo Sky could keep up, Pride did not need the extra exercise. The horse mouthed the bit crazily, asserted himself as he caught sight of the hills with a longing whinny. Rillo did not care for the sound, spinning on his hind legs as though he would dole out punishment. Brooks kept the bay stud in line, thankful the horse was respectful if not devoted.
"This is going to be bloody fast workout," Reese murmured through her teeth. Ripley nodded in agreement, but she didn't say a word. The riders knew what they had to do. Mile and a quarter gallop, three furlong breeze. Both horses would likely come out of the workout in top shop. She released the bridle, grounded herself as the two thoroughbreds surged away on either side of her. Giddy, Ripley let out a loud laugh as she watched the butts of the running horses. Power and speed, stamina and durability all wrapped in a Thoroughbred body.
He could feel shock ripple through Rillo's body as Spotlight Pride soared to the lead. He had never been so easily headed by a horse in all of his life. Brooks for one was absolutely pleased by the turn of events. If Rillo was shocked by Pride's natural speed, he wasn't going to be fighting so early. Brooks took a good, solid hold on the bay stallion, his blue eyes sparking when Rillo not only didn't fight, but settled. He was still moving at a fast clip, would likely have been on the lead if this was a longer distance race and if Pride wasn't running in the field.
Reese felt the adrenaline roar through her veins as her fiery colt launched over hill after hill. Pride was mighty full of himself today, showing that he was more than ready to come back off the layoff and roll in the Remsen Stakes. His talent was undeniable and as physically present as the red mane clenched in Reese's fingers. She leaned close to the colt, kept her hands relaxed on the reins. Left unattended, Pride could get the job done quicker and better than with her interference. The horse was the speed of the speed and definitely wasn't cheap speed. Her brown eyes flickered as she heard the thumping of hoof-beats behind her. She peaked under her arm, acknowledged the presence of Amarillo Sky without further energizing her colt. She was as cool as an ice cube.
Amarillo Sky was on the bit and pulling Brooks into the game after a mile of following the Deathflash's Pride colt. His long legs ate up the ground easily and thoroughly. He was tough and strong, proud and capable of dealing a blow to Pride's confidence. But the chestnut colt was not one to give up. He would fight all day and Brooks was thinking the chestnut would finally meet his match in Rillo. The powerful bay stallion moved up to the red horse's haunches and then barrel. He pinned his ears when Pride's eye finally caught him. The two year old quickened impressively heading up the final hill.
Brooks pulled Rillo up a little, tapping him with the bit and making him pay attention. They would not tumble head first down that hill. Pride owned this hill, only Cross could outfoot him on the hill. Rillo, in his first breeze, would cause injury if he rushed the way Pride did. The bay horse relented grudgingly, pricked his ears up though when Pride vanished from view. He pigeon-stepped the last few strides, snorting nervously until he caught sight of Pride floating down the hillside. Brooks took the reins back up, shaking his head as Rillo skidded on his butt the length of the hill, hooves working double time to keep his balance.
All the gained ground was lost the second Pride hit the flat. Brooks did not manage to snatch Amarillo Sky up before he took off. His black mane and tail flew out behind him like a cape. He marched furiously after the fleet chestnut, his hooves striking the earth with as much fury as he could muster. Brooks leaned close to the flying mane, laughed maniacally when Rillo pulled even with Pride.
Reese had been waiting for the menacing kick of Amarillo Sky. Not running on the lead had benefited Amarillo Sky, no doubt about it. Her colt had done all the dirty work, but the playing field had been leveled thanks to the rolling hills. Rillo was hitting the wall while Pride was tiring. Neither horse would encounter such hills over the flat turf track at The Wire. The flat track would be so much easier and it made them so much tougher than their counterparts. Rillo would be more than capable of upsetting on his comeback. Spotlight Pride would be more than capable of continuing his success.
The horses blew through the wire, nostrils flaring rapidly as they exited the three furlong flat. Pride tossed his head when Reese grabbed him and allowed Rillo to gallop by. Brooks patted the stallion's neck, immensely pleased with his first workout. He was amenable, mold-able and that would make Amarillo Sky a dangerous horse on the track. Both of them were sending warnings, but only the three humans had been there to see them and appreciate them.
The colt sweated nervously at the shoulder, ear flicking as he listened to Reese's patient crooning. Rillo watched the colt with his fierce gaze, pawed the rubber mats to intensify his fury. Brooks slapped the horse's shoulder, forced him to back away and take his imperious gaze from the flaming colt. "Enough, horse!" Rillo shook his black mane furiously, would have bared his teeth if he knew he could get away with it. Brooks had stirred up instant respect in the horse for some unknown reason. The stallion tolerated him enough to not take him down without remorse. That was very fortunate for Brooks because Rillo had nearly savaged Malcolm when he'd gone to retrieve the horse from Valkyrie. Rillo was extremely selective as to who handled him.
Pride needed kid gloves because of his timid nature, but once he got on the grass, nothing could hold the horse back.Reese believed the chestnut colt to be the most precocious and currently best two year old in the Year Twelve crop. There was something extra special about the athletic colt, something that screamed ethereal beauty and brilliance. Pride's dark eyes glittered with fear now, but they would take on a look of outright defiance when he got to the track.
The humans walked out of the barn, chatting among themselves while the horses assessed each other and the environment. Amarillo Sky towered over the sleek chestnut, his muscles roiled with power and strength. He was beautiful and mighty, he looked every inch the Augusto son he was. His nasty streak was of no relevance to Brooks who sat aboard the bay stallion. Rillo rippled with confidence and might. He shouldn't have been easy to control, but he rode like a dream. Brooks patted the horse's shoulder, grinned when Rillo pinned his ears. He was a bad-tempered mule, but he sure as hell could run. Brooks hoped the horse moved up in the ranks, competing in Horse Of The Year races instead of just the under-card. There was potential for Rillo to battle with In Front and Mastermind for the honor of running in the Breeders' Cup Classic. Mastermind still had to prove he had to get the distance after all. In Front, despite his recent impressive performances, still was only a grade four runner.
Pride bounced on his toes while Ripley held firmly on his bridle. The plain chestnut was known to break off early in his exercise and while Ripley had few doubts that Amarillo Sky could keep up, Pride did not need the extra exercise. The horse mouthed the bit crazily, asserted himself as he caught sight of the hills with a longing whinny. Rillo did not care for the sound, spinning on his hind legs as though he would dole out punishment. Brooks kept the bay stud in line, thankful the horse was respectful if not devoted.
"This is going to be bloody fast workout," Reese murmured through her teeth. Ripley nodded in agreement, but she didn't say a word. The riders knew what they had to do. Mile and a quarter gallop, three furlong breeze. Both horses would likely come out of the workout in top shop. She released the bridle, grounded herself as the two thoroughbreds surged away on either side of her. Giddy, Ripley let out a loud laugh as she watched the butts of the running horses. Power and speed, stamina and durability all wrapped in a Thoroughbred body.
He could feel shock ripple through Rillo's body as Spotlight Pride soared to the lead. He had never been so easily headed by a horse in all of his life. Brooks for one was absolutely pleased by the turn of events. If Rillo was shocked by Pride's natural speed, he wasn't going to be fighting so early. Brooks took a good, solid hold on the bay stallion, his blue eyes sparking when Rillo not only didn't fight, but settled. He was still moving at a fast clip, would likely have been on the lead if this was a longer distance race and if Pride wasn't running in the field.
Reese felt the adrenaline roar through her veins as her fiery colt launched over hill after hill. Pride was mighty full of himself today, showing that he was more than ready to come back off the layoff and roll in the Remsen Stakes. His talent was undeniable and as physically present as the red mane clenched in Reese's fingers. She leaned close to the colt, kept her hands relaxed on the reins. Left unattended, Pride could get the job done quicker and better than with her interference. The horse was the speed of the speed and definitely wasn't cheap speed. Her brown eyes flickered as she heard the thumping of hoof-beats behind her. She peaked under her arm, acknowledged the presence of Amarillo Sky without further energizing her colt. She was as cool as an ice cube.
Amarillo Sky was on the bit and pulling Brooks into the game after a mile of following the Deathflash's Pride colt. His long legs ate up the ground easily and thoroughly. He was tough and strong, proud and capable of dealing a blow to Pride's confidence. But the chestnut colt was not one to give up. He would fight all day and Brooks was thinking the chestnut would finally meet his match in Rillo. The powerful bay stallion moved up to the red horse's haunches and then barrel. He pinned his ears when Pride's eye finally caught him. The two year old quickened impressively heading up the final hill.
Brooks pulled Rillo up a little, tapping him with the bit and making him pay attention. They would not tumble head first down that hill. Pride owned this hill, only Cross could outfoot him on the hill. Rillo, in his first breeze, would cause injury if he rushed the way Pride did. The bay horse relented grudgingly, pricked his ears up though when Pride vanished from view. He pigeon-stepped the last few strides, snorting nervously until he caught sight of Pride floating down the hillside. Brooks took the reins back up, shaking his head as Rillo skidded on his butt the length of the hill, hooves working double time to keep his balance.
All the gained ground was lost the second Pride hit the flat. Brooks did not manage to snatch Amarillo Sky up before he took off. His black mane and tail flew out behind him like a cape. He marched furiously after the fleet chestnut, his hooves striking the earth with as much fury as he could muster. Brooks leaned close to the flying mane, laughed maniacally when Rillo pulled even with Pride.
Reese had been waiting for the menacing kick of Amarillo Sky. Not running on the lead had benefited Amarillo Sky, no doubt about it. Her colt had done all the dirty work, but the playing field had been leveled thanks to the rolling hills. Rillo was hitting the wall while Pride was tiring. Neither horse would encounter such hills over the flat turf track at The Wire. The flat track would be so much easier and it made them so much tougher than their counterparts. Rillo would be more than capable of upsetting on his comeback. Spotlight Pride would be more than capable of continuing his success.
The horses blew through the wire, nostrils flaring rapidly as they exited the three furlong flat. Pride tossed his head when Reese grabbed him and allowed Rillo to gallop by. Brooks patted the stallion's neck, immensely pleased with his first workout. He was amenable, mold-able and that would make Amarillo Sky a dangerous horse on the track. Both of them were sending warnings, but only the three humans had been there to see them and appreciate them.