Y17 Workouts
Gone Rogue
Rogue Prince with Brookson Wells aboard
Cataclysmic with Laura DeComte aboard
The Good Fight with Kendall Williams aboard
Jacob was chomping at the bit for this upcoming workout. He wasn't going to tell Ripley or Malcolm, but he had his eye on a pair of two year olds and neither of them were by Mastermind. He knew the filly would be off limits and he agreed that she should be. She was racing loyalty, the descendent of likely the greatest dirt miler to ever set foot on a track. He liked pressure, but not that much pressure and from the rumors flying around BBS, he was quite positive that she would be far more of a handful than he wanted.
Jacob watched the light bay colt bouncing over the track. At the moment, the creature had the entire synthetic oval to himself. He moved with a lightness that behooved his athleticism and ran as though he were the air itself. Brooks was as still as a statue in a near upright position in the short stirrups on his back. Usually these fleet-footed, break-neck paced horses found themselves under the patient hands of Reese, but Jacob suspected it had a lot to do with the horses personality. He was a tough nut, not wary and skittish like a Pride or Taboo. Nope, he echoed arrogance and willfulness. Jacob liked what he saw out of the son of Mr. Hat and Clogs and Crowned Cookie. A half sibling to a sprinting sensation like Crowned Queen, begged to be watched and respected. Jacob watched and he definitely respected the measured strength.
"Ready for the show?" Malcolm said as he sidled up to the trainer. He held the hand of Ripley's son Keller firmly, as if he expected the child to take off any moment. Now would not be the time to do so. Not with these powder kegs on the track anyway. And Rogue Prince, The Good Fight and Cataclysmic were powder kegs to say the least.
"As ready as ever," Jacob said in his relaxed drawl. "I've never questioned Ripley's judgement, but I do have to wonder how this little three horse experiment will go. Especially from all I've heard about The Good Fight and Rogue Prince."
Malcolm snorted, recalling how much Rogue Prince loathed colts and how much The Good Fight loathed other horses in general. Luckily, Cataclysmic hated no one except the human on her back at times. He cracked a smile remembering how many times Laura had been propelled off that gray filly during her initial breaking period. Both horse and woman were as stubborn as Texas was large and eventually, they'd come to a detente of sorts. The willfullness likely descended from Candid Silver's lineage. According to Ripley, Mastermind had been the easiest horse to break. His intelligence had passed down, but Cat's sneakiness made her hard to trust.
Rogue Prince came to a halt at the far end of the track upon Brooks's asking. The additional loop of cantering did well for the busy-minded horse and he stood patiently for the first time that morning. He yawned hugely and seemed bored... that is until the sound of hoofbeats echoed through the tunnel. "Show time," Mal mumbled. "Come here, Keller," he said as he pulled the two year old onto his hip.
The Good Fight paused at the the gap, his nostrils flaring hugely when he caught sight of Rogue Prince. His whole body went as tense as a lion's about to pounce. Kendall took a huge breath, gathering her wits as much as preparing her body for a potential launch. Reese shook the reins by the bit, drawing the bulky colt's attention from his enemy. "C'mon you big dummy. You get to run today, not fight."
The horse moved off just in time to let the prancing gray filly by him. She was a delicate little thing, jigging and dancing beneath Laura. She moved without the restraint of a human on the ground and she acted like she was about to bolt at any moment. Laura crooned to her, keeping her hands soft on the reins, but not trusting the daughter of Mastermind at all. Cat was an entirely different creature from her sire and both of her half-siblings--Ares and Pele's Wrath. She meant business and wouldn't hesitate to act vengeful if the opportunity presented itself. In that way, Cat was very similar to the testerone filled colts she would work with today.
Ripley shut the gate to the gap, her eyes lingering on each horse. She liked how they looked and could definitely tell that they were sprinting types. Each horse was compact and lean with powerful hindquarters and thick chests. Even the filly looked speedy... she might have been the fastest of the lot for all Ripley and Malcolm knew at this point.
The Good Fight and Cat moved into ground covering jogs down the middle of the track, each putting their head down and diving into the work in spite of the onlooking Rogue Prince. Kendall breathed a sigh of relief when Fig's energy was put to good use. He wasn't a huge colt, but he packed one heck of a punch when he misbehaved. He trotted with his head cocked to the side, angling himself to get a good look at the gray filly. Cat pinned her ears angrily at him, but never broke her stride. Laura admired the filly's guts as much as her interest in work. While their on the ground relationship was shaky at best, their partnership would easily bloom the longer they knew each other.
Rogue Prince blew through his nose in excitement when the pair reached him. He shook his head animatedly, eager to take off and join them. Brooks sat back in the saddle when the colt danced to the side, following them crab-walk style. "Easy dude. They're coming back to us." The bay seemed a little confused when Fig and Cat turned back and started coming for him, passing him and picking up a lope. Brooks knew Prince was going to have a fit if he didn't let him go now, so he let the horse have his head. Prince leaped off his hind end into a lope, enthusiastically giving chase. Fig hunched his back when the lighter bay roared up on his outside, but Kendall tapped him on the shoulder to keep him moving forward.
The trio cantered by the first time all in a line and surprisingly well-behaved. Ripley let out a sigh of relief when she reached Malcolm and Jacob. She removed her child from Mal's care, kissed him on the forehead and watched Rogue Prince assume the lead of the little group. "See. I told you they'd play nicely. We need to expose them to this kind of group more often. More galloping in groups, Mal. We'll give them each a taste of the kickback and let them figure it out themselves."
"The Good Fight is a nice looking individual," Jacob remarked, drawing surprised glances from Ripley and Mal. "He is. Nothing like Game Over."
"She's Fig Lite," Mal chuckled. "I like what The Goodness throws. Both of them have a classy edge, but their personalities are entirely different. Game Over is a rabbit-brained filly sometimes. Fig is a calm horse. However, both of them were pretty simple to break. Their mother at least gives them some kindness."
The trio rounded the oval in a matter of three minutes at their easy going warm up pace. Rogue Prince was still in the front, giving off all signs of plenty stamina. Most people wouldn't train a horse like Prince so heavily, but in order to get him to focus, he needed the work. The son of Mr. Hat and Clogs was full of himself as he led the way back into the first turn for the mile gallop up. Brooks sat down in the saddle when he found that his horse was ready to behave himself. He gave Prince a pat on the neck, smiled when the colt flicked his ears. Prince floated over the synthetic with ease, cementing a two length lead over Fig and a five length one over Cataclysmic.
Kendall perched herself at Fig's huge shoulders, her eyes focused on Prince's backside as they headed toward the back stretch. Her dark bay colt loped easily over the ground, his stride long and effortless. Beyond the initial wanting-to-kill-horses phase, Fig was a dream horse for an apprentice jockey. He had plenty of confidence and didn't need his rider to babysit him. She was able to concentrate on the pace and her breathing and enjoy the ride.
Cataclysmic settled to Fig's outside, avoiding the kickback from the two colts ahead of her. The gray filly ghosted over the ground in silence. Her nostrils flared lightly to take air into her lungs, filling her body with the oxygen necessary to take down the brawny colts. Laura liked that she could feel the filly on the bridle, but admired her lightness. She was an athletic sort, the type that gave you the feeling that you could ask her to do anything and she could do it. Laura was honored to have landed the mount, the joy of it coursed through her veins from dawn to sunset.
Rogue Prince led the way through the initial half-mile, settling down into a lovely stride that assured Brooks the horse could run all day despite his obvious front running capabilities. Such stamina would be required in races from a mile to ten furlongs. Adaptability is what made horses like Mastermind, Paranormal Hunter and Breaking Point deadly and truly great. He wasn't going to say Prince was quite near their level yet, but these early signals gave him hope.
Kendall let The Good Fight out a notch, smiled when the horse responded and rolled up to Prince's outside haunch. The move was swift and impressive and when the horse reached Prince, he settled right back down as she asked. Brooks glanced over at them, his face unreadable whereas Prince's was a mask of anger now. The leader pinned his ears in outright fury, would have lunged if not for the fact that Brooks had his whip flicking between the two colts. Surprisingly, Fig had no response. He churned his irritation into a run and seemed emboldened by the other horse's anger. He drew himself up to run neck and neck with Prince just because he could.
"Not yet... Not yet..." Laura said with every stride Cat took. Four lengths remained between the two colts and their filly counterpart and she could feel Cat chomping at the bit. The filly's ears were locked on the horses in front of her and she was almost leaping now in an effort to fight Laura's control. Knowing that the colts would have trouble handling the turn due to their size, Laura directed Cat to the rail.
Brooks grunted when Rogue Prince carried Fig out into the middle of the track. The son of Mr. Hat and Clogs was full of venom now and he made sure to kick on for him while Fig sorted himself out. The sound of running hooves to his inside drew his attention before he could correct Prince. He peeked under his shoulder and couldn't help it when his eyes widened in stunned shock.
Like a phantom, Cataclysmic appeared in the hole, taking advantage of the gap and the colts' weaknesses without mercy. Her ears were pinned to her stark white face and her eyes were rimmed with white, giving her the appearance of a demoness come to life. Prince nearly spooked when she reached his line of sight, but luckily with a tap, went on with the run.
Kendall pumped her arms to the rhythm of Figs's strides, urging him to pick up the pace before the lighter framed horses stole away with today's run. The trio were already running a half-furlong ahead of schedule and Fig could not afford to miss this exercise. Kendall chirped and hand rode him until his sudden loafing disappeared. He unfolded those legs and took off for the second time, leveling out to press Prince from his outside while Cat surged to the inside.
The beep of Jacob's stopwatch was easily heard by all along the rail when the trio ripped through the wire. Ripley swore Cataclysmic was ahead, but at that point Laura had stopped urging the filly. The colts had put in a show of competitiveness and speed and also versatility. While many sprinters could be one trick ponies, she didn't think these ones would fit that title.
"Final furlong in :10.25."
Ripley stared at the galloping horses, wide awake to what she had in her barn. For Cat to close into those type of fractions and come out on top was nothing short of sensational. For Fig to unfurl his big body after appearing to give in and coming calling at the end was unbelievable. And for Rogue Prince after three miles of exercise prior to the final furlong and being on the lead the whole time to be beaten only a head was nothing short of couragageous.
Feeling empowered, Ripley turned to Jacob and said, "Take your pick of the two boys, Jacob, and let me know by the time they cool out or I may just keep them all."
Jacob nodded curtly, narrowing his eye on the bays in the appearance of consideration, but he already had his pick in mind. A magician didn't tell his audience how to pull a rabbit out of a hat, after all.
Cataclysmic with Laura DeComte aboard
The Good Fight with Kendall Williams aboard
Jacob was chomping at the bit for this upcoming workout. He wasn't going to tell Ripley or Malcolm, but he had his eye on a pair of two year olds and neither of them were by Mastermind. He knew the filly would be off limits and he agreed that she should be. She was racing loyalty, the descendent of likely the greatest dirt miler to ever set foot on a track. He liked pressure, but not that much pressure and from the rumors flying around BBS, he was quite positive that she would be far more of a handful than he wanted.
Jacob watched the light bay colt bouncing over the track. At the moment, the creature had the entire synthetic oval to himself. He moved with a lightness that behooved his athleticism and ran as though he were the air itself. Brooks was as still as a statue in a near upright position in the short stirrups on his back. Usually these fleet-footed, break-neck paced horses found themselves under the patient hands of Reese, but Jacob suspected it had a lot to do with the horses personality. He was a tough nut, not wary and skittish like a Pride or Taboo. Nope, he echoed arrogance and willfulness. Jacob liked what he saw out of the son of Mr. Hat and Clogs and Crowned Cookie. A half sibling to a sprinting sensation like Crowned Queen, begged to be watched and respected. Jacob watched and he definitely respected the measured strength.
"Ready for the show?" Malcolm said as he sidled up to the trainer. He held the hand of Ripley's son Keller firmly, as if he expected the child to take off any moment. Now would not be the time to do so. Not with these powder kegs on the track anyway. And Rogue Prince, The Good Fight and Cataclysmic were powder kegs to say the least.
"As ready as ever," Jacob said in his relaxed drawl. "I've never questioned Ripley's judgement, but I do have to wonder how this little three horse experiment will go. Especially from all I've heard about The Good Fight and Rogue Prince."
Malcolm snorted, recalling how much Rogue Prince loathed colts and how much The Good Fight loathed other horses in general. Luckily, Cataclysmic hated no one except the human on her back at times. He cracked a smile remembering how many times Laura had been propelled off that gray filly during her initial breaking period. Both horse and woman were as stubborn as Texas was large and eventually, they'd come to a detente of sorts. The willfullness likely descended from Candid Silver's lineage. According to Ripley, Mastermind had been the easiest horse to break. His intelligence had passed down, but Cat's sneakiness made her hard to trust.
Rogue Prince came to a halt at the far end of the track upon Brooks's asking. The additional loop of cantering did well for the busy-minded horse and he stood patiently for the first time that morning. He yawned hugely and seemed bored... that is until the sound of hoofbeats echoed through the tunnel. "Show time," Mal mumbled. "Come here, Keller," he said as he pulled the two year old onto his hip.
The Good Fight paused at the the gap, his nostrils flaring hugely when he caught sight of Rogue Prince. His whole body went as tense as a lion's about to pounce. Kendall took a huge breath, gathering her wits as much as preparing her body for a potential launch. Reese shook the reins by the bit, drawing the bulky colt's attention from his enemy. "C'mon you big dummy. You get to run today, not fight."
The horse moved off just in time to let the prancing gray filly by him. She was a delicate little thing, jigging and dancing beneath Laura. She moved without the restraint of a human on the ground and she acted like she was about to bolt at any moment. Laura crooned to her, keeping her hands soft on the reins, but not trusting the daughter of Mastermind at all. Cat was an entirely different creature from her sire and both of her half-siblings--Ares and Pele's Wrath. She meant business and wouldn't hesitate to act vengeful if the opportunity presented itself. In that way, Cat was very similar to the testerone filled colts she would work with today.
Ripley shut the gate to the gap, her eyes lingering on each horse. She liked how they looked and could definitely tell that they were sprinting types. Each horse was compact and lean with powerful hindquarters and thick chests. Even the filly looked speedy... she might have been the fastest of the lot for all Ripley and Malcolm knew at this point.
The Good Fight and Cat moved into ground covering jogs down the middle of the track, each putting their head down and diving into the work in spite of the onlooking Rogue Prince. Kendall breathed a sigh of relief when Fig's energy was put to good use. He wasn't a huge colt, but he packed one heck of a punch when he misbehaved. He trotted with his head cocked to the side, angling himself to get a good look at the gray filly. Cat pinned her ears angrily at him, but never broke her stride. Laura admired the filly's guts as much as her interest in work. While their on the ground relationship was shaky at best, their partnership would easily bloom the longer they knew each other.
Rogue Prince blew through his nose in excitement when the pair reached him. He shook his head animatedly, eager to take off and join them. Brooks sat back in the saddle when the colt danced to the side, following them crab-walk style. "Easy dude. They're coming back to us." The bay seemed a little confused when Fig and Cat turned back and started coming for him, passing him and picking up a lope. Brooks knew Prince was going to have a fit if he didn't let him go now, so he let the horse have his head. Prince leaped off his hind end into a lope, enthusiastically giving chase. Fig hunched his back when the lighter bay roared up on his outside, but Kendall tapped him on the shoulder to keep him moving forward.
The trio cantered by the first time all in a line and surprisingly well-behaved. Ripley let out a sigh of relief when she reached Malcolm and Jacob. She removed her child from Mal's care, kissed him on the forehead and watched Rogue Prince assume the lead of the little group. "See. I told you they'd play nicely. We need to expose them to this kind of group more often. More galloping in groups, Mal. We'll give them each a taste of the kickback and let them figure it out themselves."
"The Good Fight is a nice looking individual," Jacob remarked, drawing surprised glances from Ripley and Mal. "He is. Nothing like Game Over."
"She's Fig Lite," Mal chuckled. "I like what The Goodness throws. Both of them have a classy edge, but their personalities are entirely different. Game Over is a rabbit-brained filly sometimes. Fig is a calm horse. However, both of them were pretty simple to break. Their mother at least gives them some kindness."
The trio rounded the oval in a matter of three minutes at their easy going warm up pace. Rogue Prince was still in the front, giving off all signs of plenty stamina. Most people wouldn't train a horse like Prince so heavily, but in order to get him to focus, he needed the work. The son of Mr. Hat and Clogs was full of himself as he led the way back into the first turn for the mile gallop up. Brooks sat down in the saddle when he found that his horse was ready to behave himself. He gave Prince a pat on the neck, smiled when the colt flicked his ears. Prince floated over the synthetic with ease, cementing a two length lead over Fig and a five length one over Cataclysmic.
Kendall perched herself at Fig's huge shoulders, her eyes focused on Prince's backside as they headed toward the back stretch. Her dark bay colt loped easily over the ground, his stride long and effortless. Beyond the initial wanting-to-kill-horses phase, Fig was a dream horse for an apprentice jockey. He had plenty of confidence and didn't need his rider to babysit him. She was able to concentrate on the pace and her breathing and enjoy the ride.
Cataclysmic settled to Fig's outside, avoiding the kickback from the two colts ahead of her. The gray filly ghosted over the ground in silence. Her nostrils flared lightly to take air into her lungs, filling her body with the oxygen necessary to take down the brawny colts. Laura liked that she could feel the filly on the bridle, but admired her lightness. She was an athletic sort, the type that gave you the feeling that you could ask her to do anything and she could do it. Laura was honored to have landed the mount, the joy of it coursed through her veins from dawn to sunset.
Rogue Prince led the way through the initial half-mile, settling down into a lovely stride that assured Brooks the horse could run all day despite his obvious front running capabilities. Such stamina would be required in races from a mile to ten furlongs. Adaptability is what made horses like Mastermind, Paranormal Hunter and Breaking Point deadly and truly great. He wasn't going to say Prince was quite near their level yet, but these early signals gave him hope.
Kendall let The Good Fight out a notch, smiled when the horse responded and rolled up to Prince's outside haunch. The move was swift and impressive and when the horse reached Prince, he settled right back down as she asked. Brooks glanced over at them, his face unreadable whereas Prince's was a mask of anger now. The leader pinned his ears in outright fury, would have lunged if not for the fact that Brooks had his whip flicking between the two colts. Surprisingly, Fig had no response. He churned his irritation into a run and seemed emboldened by the other horse's anger. He drew himself up to run neck and neck with Prince just because he could.
"Not yet... Not yet..." Laura said with every stride Cat took. Four lengths remained between the two colts and their filly counterpart and she could feel Cat chomping at the bit. The filly's ears were locked on the horses in front of her and she was almost leaping now in an effort to fight Laura's control. Knowing that the colts would have trouble handling the turn due to their size, Laura directed Cat to the rail.
Brooks grunted when Rogue Prince carried Fig out into the middle of the track. The son of Mr. Hat and Clogs was full of venom now and he made sure to kick on for him while Fig sorted himself out. The sound of running hooves to his inside drew his attention before he could correct Prince. He peeked under his shoulder and couldn't help it when his eyes widened in stunned shock.
Like a phantom, Cataclysmic appeared in the hole, taking advantage of the gap and the colts' weaknesses without mercy. Her ears were pinned to her stark white face and her eyes were rimmed with white, giving her the appearance of a demoness come to life. Prince nearly spooked when she reached his line of sight, but luckily with a tap, went on with the run.
Kendall pumped her arms to the rhythm of Figs's strides, urging him to pick up the pace before the lighter framed horses stole away with today's run. The trio were already running a half-furlong ahead of schedule and Fig could not afford to miss this exercise. Kendall chirped and hand rode him until his sudden loafing disappeared. He unfolded those legs and took off for the second time, leveling out to press Prince from his outside while Cat surged to the inside.
The beep of Jacob's stopwatch was easily heard by all along the rail when the trio ripped through the wire. Ripley swore Cataclysmic was ahead, but at that point Laura had stopped urging the filly. The colts had put in a show of competitiveness and speed and also versatility. While many sprinters could be one trick ponies, she didn't think these ones would fit that title.
"Final furlong in :10.25."
Ripley stared at the galloping horses, wide awake to what she had in her barn. For Cat to close into those type of fractions and come out on top was nothing short of sensational. For Fig to unfurl his big body after appearing to give in and coming calling at the end was unbelievable. And for Rogue Prince after three miles of exercise prior to the final furlong and being on the lead the whole time to be beaten only a head was nothing short of couragageous.
Feeling empowered, Ripley turned to Jacob and said, "Take your pick of the two boys, Jacob, and let me know by the time they cool out or I may just keep them all."
Jacob nodded curtly, narrowing his eye on the bays in the appearance of consideration, but he already had his pick in mind. A magician didn't tell his audience how to pull a rabbit out of a hat, after all.
Go And Get 'Em
Wild Annie with Reese Balling Jones aboard
Tap Out with David Carter aboard
Ripley brushed a speck of dust off of the raven hide of the filly in the next workout set. This next pair had Ripley on the edge of her seat, uncertain which way she would go. Both of the youngsters were relations of horses that Ripley had loved to train. Dazzling Dame and Whipped Cream were the hardest trying animals, Ripley had ever come across in her lifetime. They fought tooth and nail to drive to the wire and at times their brilliance had been breathtaking.
Ferocity was a coveted trait in Ripley's barn. Most barns prefered the easy mount, the uncomplicated horse with unspoken and unmatched speed. However, in Ripley's opinion, heart mattered the most. A horse could have unlimited speed, but if it didn't have the guts, durability and soundness to go along with it, she didn't want that horse in her barn. Dazzling Dame and Whipped Cream had been prima donnas and bitches of the worst kind, but damn those mares could run their opponents into the ground without so much as batting an eyelash. While neither of their relations were mean, there was no missing that familiar gleam in the eye or cock of the hoof.
Ripley paused at the gap, eyeing the hind ends of the next generation of turf stars. Wild Annie was not so like Dazzling Dame in form. While she was a half-sibling through their shared sire Jessie James, she was narrow thanks to her mother, Wild Kiss--a daughter of BBS pensioner DW Flamekissed. She was lean and sinewy, her stride eerily graceful and confident. Reese barely moved so smooth was the filly's trot. Even when she rocked between a lope and a jog, Reese barely moved. Ripley watched the filly's black ears swivel as she took in her surroundings. She was a turf runner through and through, but the synthetic stuff would be close enough for today's mission.
Not far ahead of Wild Annie was the son of GS Royal Crown and Whipped Cream. Crow, a versatile horse in his hey day, had granted Tap Out the good looks of a classic horse, thick chest, fine head, powerful hindquarters. He was the total package and he looked every inch a fighter. Even from here, he lifted into a crow hop, giving David Carter all he could handle for two large leaping strides. David gritted his teeth when the colt screamed--a trait that was all his own. Ripley watched David flick the whip at the horse's hindquarters, reminding him that this was no time for play. He pinned his small ears to his well-conformed neck and scooted into a frustrated half-hearted gallop before David took control of him again. The attitude...now that was a remnant of his dam.
Malcolm grinned at Ripley when she approached Jacob and him. Both men were leaning against the railing, a hot coffee--thanks to Brooks--cradled in their hands. Steam coiled its way toward the dome-like structure of the indoor track, dissipating in the cool winter light. If there was one thing Ripley could not wait for, it was the early signs of spring.
"Should be a good show today," Mal said. "Annie versus Tap Out. I don't think that the colt knows he's supposed to have distance limitations."
Ripley laughed. "Who knows if he does? Whipped Cream sure didn't have a problem beyond ten furlongs. He could prove to be a secret marathon talent, which would be useful. At least, we'd have something that could hold a candle to Pure Innocence beyond ten."
Mal nodded, his bright blue eyes tracking the proud figures of Annie and Tap Out. "What do you think of Annie?"
Ripley took a big breath, uncertain of how to begin. She'd specifically picked Annie out of the baby sale two years ago--a fact that surprised her every day when she realized that Wild Kiss's daughter was about to be a juvenile racer. Time flew when you least expected it. Ever since then, the dark daughter had been an enigma. She went from being the most loved to the most hated, from the healthiest of them all to sick in the equine hospital. Just getting the filly to this stage had been a challenge for Malcolm. She was a slight filly and the smallest of things could bother her. However, she was a young horse and came from a durable line of stock. Her latest gallops had been strong and signaled that perhaps the worst was behind them.
"She looks great on the track. Her behavior has gotten a lot better that's for sure. Her groom no longer cowers in fear when she looks her way," Ripley said with a tinge of humor.
Jacob grinned and eyed the seal-brown filly. "Medusa in horse form?"
"Something like that," Ripley replied. "You think she'll be ready for a January debut?"
Jacob focused in on Malcolm's answer, not certain where either trainer stood on this filly. He could tell which ones they were totally high on and which ones they thought needed more time. He supected that Wild Annie was giving Ripley fits of sleeplessness. While sending a horse to Full Flight wouldn't damn them to a life of undercards as Gold Rush had proven in Year Sixteen, it did signal that perhaps the horses weren't quite ready for their best year to be in their juvenile seasons.
Malcolm waited for the horses to pick up their warm-up gallops, watching the way Annie moved over the track. She looked good, just as she had looked for the last two weeks. Something had changed in her brain and gave him hope that perhaps, she was ready to make her debut. She moved aggressively with her head tucked down and her body coiled like a snake beneath Reese. She made the rider work hard for such a small creature. While Tap Out moved like a confident king, Annie moved like a keg about to blow.
"I think she could," Mal said. "We'll see how much she gets out of this extended exercise and put a pair of good five furlong workouts into her once January hits. We know she can break from the gate well. Probably one of my best gate horses ever. She's not the type to just rip the bit out of the rider's hands either."
Reese would have laughed if she heard Mal's words because her fingers were starting to go numb. Annie's savage little teeth were doing their best attempt at murdering the aluminum bit between her teeth. She pounced over the ground lightly and with cat-like swiftness. Every now and then Reese caught an angle of Annie's red-rimmed eye. The daughter of Jessie James was doing her best impersonation of her sire and half-siblings. She wanted to run. She was smart enough to realize that being joined on the track by Tap Out meant they were doing something different today, something that required speed.
David could tell Reese was having trouble keeping Annie together. Usually Annie was lazy, but today David was having trouble keeping Tap Out within hearing distance and this was just a warm up gallop. He liked the feeling of power beneath him as they negotiated the turn. Tap Out's nostrils flared excitedly, remembering that he got to run in the stretch. He pressed on the bit, but when David didn't allow him to run, he settled back into his hands. Like Notorious--David's most famed mount--Tap Out was well-behaved and willing to listen. Perhaps, he was more so than that dual leg winner of the Turf Triple Crown.
When the duo came back to the first turn, Reese was relieved to let Wild Annie out a notch. The filly responded by throwing her head in the air and leaping wildly into a swift gallop. Her dark mane whipped Reese's face, leaving marks of red behind, but Reese barely acknowledged the pain. She was practically standing in the saddle to combat the filly's willful energy. When Tap Out rounded up to the filly's outside haunch, she became even more imperious.
David couldn't believe the fight that the seal brown filly was giving off and feeding Tap Out. The strong colt only grew tougher to handle, bowing his neck and straining for the rein. He wanted to run with her, but David was immovable. No way were they going to go head and head with the filly for a mile. This exercise was only supposed to be a steady gallop with a strong final furlong. That was it. None of this crazy racing drama that was playing out before them.
Reese took a giant breath and concentrated on slowing her heart down, certain that Annie was getting fuel from her rider's erratic nerves. No where in the past had Wild Annie given off any sign of this speed craziness. She was a hot head, but she wasn't foolish to the point of reckless abandon. "Easy, lady. Easy, trouble."
She settled down so suddenly that after the third furlong that Tap Out surged to the lead by three quarters of a length. Emboldened by the filly's surrender, Tap Out pinned his ears to his neck and motored for the turn. David clutched at the reins, anchored his body in the saddle. It was hard to fight fire with fire, but David was certain that this was the only way to win over the usually easy going son of GS Royal Crown.
Ripley held her breath as the filly fell out of the lead at first by a half length, then three-quarters, then a length. She couldn't believe that the daughter of Jessie James would just give up in the face of a fight. Meanwhile, Tap Out was relishing her defeat. His every stride grew bolder and more commanding. His quick jaunt around the turn stunned the collected audience, as well as his easy switch of leads.
Reese cursed under her breath when the filly straightened in the homestretch and found herself three lengths back. This was definitely not going to plan. Reese knew that Mal would have her head, but Annie needed to know something about finishing a race. Without thought of the consequences, Reese flicked a cross, not too roughly but just a reminder to keep going. Annie pinned her ears and bared her teeth, threatening savagery to Reese later on, but her response was instantaneous.
"She's not done," Jacob said in disbelief. His eyes may be aging, but he could have sworn that when Reese flicked that cross, he'd seen life in the near black filly's eyes. Although, Tap Out's lead was three lengths, it no longer expanded even though the colt was mocking the original plan of just a gallop and final open furlong.
Tap Out blew out down the lane with the greatest of ease, his ears flickering over his head as if he was looking for trouble. David heard it before his mount registered what was coming. The sound of light hooves over dirt to his outside, surprised David immensely. He could have sworn the filly had packed her bags and gone home. He heard Reese's familiar chirp and drove forward so ferociously that it caught Tap Out off guard.
Ripley could only gawk as the dark filly roared up the outside of Tap Out, a picture of menacing speed. Her eyes blazed with sheer hatred as she caught up to the rival colt with a half-furlong left to go. Tap Out responded to the challenge grittily, staying nose to nose with her until the wire. When Reese let up, Annie let up. Tap Out burst away resoundingly in the gallop out, beating his opponent by seven lengths at the next furlong pole, but mostly because Annie didn't try.
Reese let the filly canter at her pace, stunned that she'd gutted out a win even though this wasn't even a racing situation. Reese wasn't sure if she should be more surprised by the filly's rush to lead or the fact that she still had energy left to run down a confident and energetic opponent. Reese patted the filly's neck heartily. "Wow."
"Whoa," Jacob laughed, blown away by what he'd just witnessed. "And you weren't sure if she could start in January? I think you found a filly to hold a candle to Pure Innocence."
Both Malcolm and Ripley stared at the Full Flight trainer, their expressions mirroring their shock. It was humbling to realize that you could have been wrong, but all along were right. Ripley followed Tap Out and Wild Annie with her gaze, a smile appearing on her lips as she realized that they had two potent middle-classic distance horses on their hands. She doubted anything but a special horse could have collared Tap Out after him basically blowing the race open. She doubted anything could measure up to the heart and will of both of these special youngsters.
Tap Out with David Carter aboard
Ripley brushed a speck of dust off of the raven hide of the filly in the next workout set. This next pair had Ripley on the edge of her seat, uncertain which way she would go. Both of the youngsters were relations of horses that Ripley had loved to train. Dazzling Dame and Whipped Cream were the hardest trying animals, Ripley had ever come across in her lifetime. They fought tooth and nail to drive to the wire and at times their brilliance had been breathtaking.
Ferocity was a coveted trait in Ripley's barn. Most barns prefered the easy mount, the uncomplicated horse with unspoken and unmatched speed. However, in Ripley's opinion, heart mattered the most. A horse could have unlimited speed, but if it didn't have the guts, durability and soundness to go along with it, she didn't want that horse in her barn. Dazzling Dame and Whipped Cream had been prima donnas and bitches of the worst kind, but damn those mares could run their opponents into the ground without so much as batting an eyelash. While neither of their relations were mean, there was no missing that familiar gleam in the eye or cock of the hoof.
Ripley paused at the gap, eyeing the hind ends of the next generation of turf stars. Wild Annie was not so like Dazzling Dame in form. While she was a half-sibling through their shared sire Jessie James, she was narrow thanks to her mother, Wild Kiss--a daughter of BBS pensioner DW Flamekissed. She was lean and sinewy, her stride eerily graceful and confident. Reese barely moved so smooth was the filly's trot. Even when she rocked between a lope and a jog, Reese barely moved. Ripley watched the filly's black ears swivel as she took in her surroundings. She was a turf runner through and through, but the synthetic stuff would be close enough for today's mission.
Not far ahead of Wild Annie was the son of GS Royal Crown and Whipped Cream. Crow, a versatile horse in his hey day, had granted Tap Out the good looks of a classic horse, thick chest, fine head, powerful hindquarters. He was the total package and he looked every inch a fighter. Even from here, he lifted into a crow hop, giving David Carter all he could handle for two large leaping strides. David gritted his teeth when the colt screamed--a trait that was all his own. Ripley watched David flick the whip at the horse's hindquarters, reminding him that this was no time for play. He pinned his small ears to his well-conformed neck and scooted into a frustrated half-hearted gallop before David took control of him again. The attitude...now that was a remnant of his dam.
Malcolm grinned at Ripley when she approached Jacob and him. Both men were leaning against the railing, a hot coffee--thanks to Brooks--cradled in their hands. Steam coiled its way toward the dome-like structure of the indoor track, dissipating in the cool winter light. If there was one thing Ripley could not wait for, it was the early signs of spring.
"Should be a good show today," Mal said. "Annie versus Tap Out. I don't think that the colt knows he's supposed to have distance limitations."
Ripley laughed. "Who knows if he does? Whipped Cream sure didn't have a problem beyond ten furlongs. He could prove to be a secret marathon talent, which would be useful. At least, we'd have something that could hold a candle to Pure Innocence beyond ten."
Mal nodded, his bright blue eyes tracking the proud figures of Annie and Tap Out. "What do you think of Annie?"
Ripley took a big breath, uncertain of how to begin. She'd specifically picked Annie out of the baby sale two years ago--a fact that surprised her every day when she realized that Wild Kiss's daughter was about to be a juvenile racer. Time flew when you least expected it. Ever since then, the dark daughter had been an enigma. She went from being the most loved to the most hated, from the healthiest of them all to sick in the equine hospital. Just getting the filly to this stage had been a challenge for Malcolm. She was a slight filly and the smallest of things could bother her. However, she was a young horse and came from a durable line of stock. Her latest gallops had been strong and signaled that perhaps the worst was behind them.
"She looks great on the track. Her behavior has gotten a lot better that's for sure. Her groom no longer cowers in fear when she looks her way," Ripley said with a tinge of humor.
Jacob grinned and eyed the seal-brown filly. "Medusa in horse form?"
"Something like that," Ripley replied. "You think she'll be ready for a January debut?"
Jacob focused in on Malcolm's answer, not certain where either trainer stood on this filly. He could tell which ones they were totally high on and which ones they thought needed more time. He supected that Wild Annie was giving Ripley fits of sleeplessness. While sending a horse to Full Flight wouldn't damn them to a life of undercards as Gold Rush had proven in Year Sixteen, it did signal that perhaps the horses weren't quite ready for their best year to be in their juvenile seasons.
Malcolm waited for the horses to pick up their warm-up gallops, watching the way Annie moved over the track. She looked good, just as she had looked for the last two weeks. Something had changed in her brain and gave him hope that perhaps, she was ready to make her debut. She moved aggressively with her head tucked down and her body coiled like a snake beneath Reese. She made the rider work hard for such a small creature. While Tap Out moved like a confident king, Annie moved like a keg about to blow.
"I think she could," Mal said. "We'll see how much she gets out of this extended exercise and put a pair of good five furlong workouts into her once January hits. We know she can break from the gate well. Probably one of my best gate horses ever. She's not the type to just rip the bit out of the rider's hands either."
Reese would have laughed if she heard Mal's words because her fingers were starting to go numb. Annie's savage little teeth were doing their best attempt at murdering the aluminum bit between her teeth. She pounced over the ground lightly and with cat-like swiftness. Every now and then Reese caught an angle of Annie's red-rimmed eye. The daughter of Jessie James was doing her best impersonation of her sire and half-siblings. She wanted to run. She was smart enough to realize that being joined on the track by Tap Out meant they were doing something different today, something that required speed.
David could tell Reese was having trouble keeping Annie together. Usually Annie was lazy, but today David was having trouble keeping Tap Out within hearing distance and this was just a warm up gallop. He liked the feeling of power beneath him as they negotiated the turn. Tap Out's nostrils flared excitedly, remembering that he got to run in the stretch. He pressed on the bit, but when David didn't allow him to run, he settled back into his hands. Like Notorious--David's most famed mount--Tap Out was well-behaved and willing to listen. Perhaps, he was more so than that dual leg winner of the Turf Triple Crown.
When the duo came back to the first turn, Reese was relieved to let Wild Annie out a notch. The filly responded by throwing her head in the air and leaping wildly into a swift gallop. Her dark mane whipped Reese's face, leaving marks of red behind, but Reese barely acknowledged the pain. She was practically standing in the saddle to combat the filly's willful energy. When Tap Out rounded up to the filly's outside haunch, she became even more imperious.
David couldn't believe the fight that the seal brown filly was giving off and feeding Tap Out. The strong colt only grew tougher to handle, bowing his neck and straining for the rein. He wanted to run with her, but David was immovable. No way were they going to go head and head with the filly for a mile. This exercise was only supposed to be a steady gallop with a strong final furlong. That was it. None of this crazy racing drama that was playing out before them.
Reese took a giant breath and concentrated on slowing her heart down, certain that Annie was getting fuel from her rider's erratic nerves. No where in the past had Wild Annie given off any sign of this speed craziness. She was a hot head, but she wasn't foolish to the point of reckless abandon. "Easy, lady. Easy, trouble."
She settled down so suddenly that after the third furlong that Tap Out surged to the lead by three quarters of a length. Emboldened by the filly's surrender, Tap Out pinned his ears to his neck and motored for the turn. David clutched at the reins, anchored his body in the saddle. It was hard to fight fire with fire, but David was certain that this was the only way to win over the usually easy going son of GS Royal Crown.
Ripley held her breath as the filly fell out of the lead at first by a half length, then three-quarters, then a length. She couldn't believe that the daughter of Jessie James would just give up in the face of a fight. Meanwhile, Tap Out was relishing her defeat. His every stride grew bolder and more commanding. His quick jaunt around the turn stunned the collected audience, as well as his easy switch of leads.
Reese cursed under her breath when the filly straightened in the homestretch and found herself three lengths back. This was definitely not going to plan. Reese knew that Mal would have her head, but Annie needed to know something about finishing a race. Without thought of the consequences, Reese flicked a cross, not too roughly but just a reminder to keep going. Annie pinned her ears and bared her teeth, threatening savagery to Reese later on, but her response was instantaneous.
"She's not done," Jacob said in disbelief. His eyes may be aging, but he could have sworn that when Reese flicked that cross, he'd seen life in the near black filly's eyes. Although, Tap Out's lead was three lengths, it no longer expanded even though the colt was mocking the original plan of just a gallop and final open furlong.
Tap Out blew out down the lane with the greatest of ease, his ears flickering over his head as if he was looking for trouble. David heard it before his mount registered what was coming. The sound of light hooves over dirt to his outside, surprised David immensely. He could have sworn the filly had packed her bags and gone home. He heard Reese's familiar chirp and drove forward so ferociously that it caught Tap Out off guard.
Ripley could only gawk as the dark filly roared up the outside of Tap Out, a picture of menacing speed. Her eyes blazed with sheer hatred as she caught up to the rival colt with a half-furlong left to go. Tap Out responded to the challenge grittily, staying nose to nose with her until the wire. When Reese let up, Annie let up. Tap Out burst away resoundingly in the gallop out, beating his opponent by seven lengths at the next furlong pole, but mostly because Annie didn't try.
Reese let the filly canter at her pace, stunned that she'd gutted out a win even though this wasn't even a racing situation. Reese wasn't sure if she should be more surprised by the filly's rush to lead or the fact that she still had energy left to run down a confident and energetic opponent. Reese patted the filly's neck heartily. "Wow."
"Whoa," Jacob laughed, blown away by what he'd just witnessed. "And you weren't sure if she could start in January? I think you found a filly to hold a candle to Pure Innocence."
Both Malcolm and Ripley stared at the Full Flight trainer, their expressions mirroring their shock. It was humbling to realize that you could have been wrong, but all along were right. Ripley followed Tap Out and Wild Annie with her gaze, a smile appearing on her lips as she realized that they had two potent middle-classic distance horses on their hands. She doubted anything but a special horse could have collared Tap Out after him basically blowing the race open. She doubted anything could measure up to the heart and will of both of these special youngsters.
Wander Lust
Pure Innocence with Reese Balling Jones aboard
Wayward Lass with Maggiletti Reynolds aboard
Ripley watched the elderly man tuck his hands into his pockets, narrowing her eyes on his red nose and hunched posture. She'd warned Jacob that it would be a cold day. December wasn't ever a friend to those who worked on the farm. The man should know better. "Did you at least bring gloves?" Ripley snapped.
Used to the woman's waspish tone by now, Jacob merely waved his bare hand and nodded toward the barn door. "We're out of the wind now. I'm fine."
The conversation was as brisk as the air. Although, Ripley and Jacob made for effective training partners and on most occasions, friends, today was different. Today, they would find out what kind of horses would lead the way in Year Seventeen. It was time to find out which horses breathed different air, as Jacob put it. Ripley waylaid such talk, hoping to quell her own high expectations as much as Jacob's. She didn't want to make decisions on home placement with the idea that all her horses weren't on the same footing. It was a bit unrealistic to think all of them were on equal turf, especially since they were so young.
She looked toward the big entrance of the indoor track and the loud screeching sound of wood on cement. Wincing, she made a note to discuss the noise with her maintenance crew. While she didn't have to cozy up to other owners by maintaining a spotless facility, she still liked everything to operate smoothly and without a hitch.
"They look good," Jacob stated, ignoring the screeching noise in favor of the fillies marching onto the synthetic oval. His brown eyes cut through the head flinging baby behavior and noted every sterling muscle and glossy hair. Each filly looked twenty times better formed than they did when he saw them at the end of summer. They looked more like racehorses and less like unruly yearlings.
"Malcolm did well getting them into shape," Ripley agreed. She waved to the yearling trainer as she said this, noting his lack of a smile. The man always took the first workouts overly serious. She liked that in him, but at the same time when they sent the youngsters out, they weren't doing intense speed works. Just a mile around with the last furlong being the fastest. Really, they didn't put any short speed works into their horses until after their first races. Today was about carrying a constant, fast pace for a length of distance. Half the time, Ripley wasn't sure what kind of juveniles she had even after this annual introductory workout.
She watched the bay and chestnut fillies break into their light jogs. Wayward Lass was already a hunky little filly, her eyes growing brighter with every soft-footed stride she took. She was a powerhouse thanks to her heavier set parents and she fit Maggie to a "T." The blonde woman looked pleased as she guided the youngster to the rail, glancing over her shoulder to keep an eye on Reese and Pure Innocence.
Pure Innocence was not innocent at all. She shook her head violently once then twice, trying her best to unseat Reese. Although she looked only like her brother in body type, Pure Innocence was just as much as a witch as her brother had been and still was to a certain extent. Her brown eyes flashed angrily when Reese gave her a crack on the butt for being stubborn. Her slim ears fell back into her light red mane and she looked every inch a demonic little princess. "Hey!" Reese shouted when the filly humped her back to buck.
Luckily, the filly was distracted by Wayward Lass breaking into a slow lope. Rather than putting on a show of distemper, the daughter of The Innocent Skier bulleted forward with such a burst of energy that Reese was nearly launched behind the tiny racing saddle. Ripley sighed in relief when the chestnut did not take advantage of her rider's lack of balance. Innocence was just the sort of filly to do such a thing and do it with a vengeance.
"They'll be going a mile with the last furlong being the fastest," Ripley said to Jacob. The older man was leaning against the railing, his eyes glued to the fillies as they navigated the synthetic. Both of them moved with a careless, athletic ease. Their quality was undeniable. He actually quite liked the way Wayward Lass looked and noted to mention to Ripley that she might want to consider Flying Solo as a sire again.
The duo slipped into an easy gallop with Wayward Lass continuing to hold her lead. Her ears were locked back on her rival, a competitive gleam in her eye. Maggie kept her body still as Lassie tugged her forward. Unlike Bond and Para, this little filly didn't need any encouragement to keep her eye on the prize. She was a very competitive bugger and she had the engine to get the job done.
Once Lassie got moving, Reese had a much easier time settling Innocence into her fluid gallop. The lithe horse settled right behind her stablemate, her ears pricking for the first time since the exercise began. Her muscles moved smoothly beneath her shimmering hide as she cranked out easy 12s behind the bay. This was where Innocence was at her finest. Reese knew the horse was good. She knew exactly where she wanted to be from the get-go. She wanted to run with cover and would be a brave horse in the face of traffic. Already, she was more advanced than both Spotlight Pride and Taboo had been at this point in their careers. Even Notorious had wanted to fight David more than run with him in his first year. Her attitude was the size of Texas, but at least she had the brains to compensate.
Maggie was very impressed by what she felt beneath her. The bay filly had a big stride and a confident way of moving. She seemed to settle down despite the pressure from Pure Innocence. Maggie murmured quietly in the filly's ear, keeping a running commentary to keep her that way. She tugged on the reins as they whirled toward the far turn, her hooves quickening over the soft surface. She moved like a train over the ground, her breathing coming easily as though all of this was just a walk in the park.
Reese let Pure Innocence out a notch around the turn, flicking her wrists to let the chestnut know she could give chase. Her response was almost instantaneous, as if she'd known all along that this was what she was expected to do. With swift strides, Innocence swept up on Wayward Lass's outside. Her savage head was at the bay filly's barrel in a matter of seconds. Her ears pressed flat against her skull when she realized that this was more than just a daily gallop.
Both horses took off as if someone had lit their tails on fire into the short lane. Their nostrils flared to twice the normal size as they scorched the ground, head and head, nose and nose. Their late speed after a mile was incredible and although Wayward Lass would ultimately wind up as a sprinter-miler type, she kept up all too willingly with Innocence.
Ripley hit the stopwatch as soon as the duo crossed the line. She exchanged a wide grin with Malcolm and looked at Jacob. The older man was rubbing his chin thoughtfully as he watched the fillies pull up. His eyes were dark, but didn't give him away. She smirked and nodded to herself.
Both Maggie and Reese were smiling when the horses passed by. Wayward Lass was blowing a little, but Innocence looked as right as rain. "She's quiet," Reese remarked excitedly. "Did you see her make up that ground?"
"Sure she made up ground quickly, but Lass gave her a run for her money," Maggie crooned, patting the bay's thick neck. "I don't have a clue what they ran that final furlong in, but it was quick."
"11 and 1," Jacob said suddenly, jolting the two women. "Pretty impressive after a mile run up."
Ripley grinned and patted Jacob's shoulder as she followed the young horses. "I knew you'd show your human side soon enough."
Jacob scoffed, but couldn't stop the tiny smile from fluttering across his features. There was nothing that humanized a man quite as much as a horse.
Wayward Lass with Maggiletti Reynolds aboard
Ripley watched the elderly man tuck his hands into his pockets, narrowing her eyes on his red nose and hunched posture. She'd warned Jacob that it would be a cold day. December wasn't ever a friend to those who worked on the farm. The man should know better. "Did you at least bring gloves?" Ripley snapped.
Used to the woman's waspish tone by now, Jacob merely waved his bare hand and nodded toward the barn door. "We're out of the wind now. I'm fine."
The conversation was as brisk as the air. Although, Ripley and Jacob made for effective training partners and on most occasions, friends, today was different. Today, they would find out what kind of horses would lead the way in Year Seventeen. It was time to find out which horses breathed different air, as Jacob put it. Ripley waylaid such talk, hoping to quell her own high expectations as much as Jacob's. She didn't want to make decisions on home placement with the idea that all her horses weren't on the same footing. It was a bit unrealistic to think all of them were on equal turf, especially since they were so young.
She looked toward the big entrance of the indoor track and the loud screeching sound of wood on cement. Wincing, she made a note to discuss the noise with her maintenance crew. While she didn't have to cozy up to other owners by maintaining a spotless facility, she still liked everything to operate smoothly and without a hitch.
"They look good," Jacob stated, ignoring the screeching noise in favor of the fillies marching onto the synthetic oval. His brown eyes cut through the head flinging baby behavior and noted every sterling muscle and glossy hair. Each filly looked twenty times better formed than they did when he saw them at the end of summer. They looked more like racehorses and less like unruly yearlings.
"Malcolm did well getting them into shape," Ripley agreed. She waved to the yearling trainer as she said this, noting his lack of a smile. The man always took the first workouts overly serious. She liked that in him, but at the same time when they sent the youngsters out, they weren't doing intense speed works. Just a mile around with the last furlong being the fastest. Really, they didn't put any short speed works into their horses until after their first races. Today was about carrying a constant, fast pace for a length of distance. Half the time, Ripley wasn't sure what kind of juveniles she had even after this annual introductory workout.
She watched the bay and chestnut fillies break into their light jogs. Wayward Lass was already a hunky little filly, her eyes growing brighter with every soft-footed stride she took. She was a powerhouse thanks to her heavier set parents and she fit Maggie to a "T." The blonde woman looked pleased as she guided the youngster to the rail, glancing over her shoulder to keep an eye on Reese and Pure Innocence.
Pure Innocence was not innocent at all. She shook her head violently once then twice, trying her best to unseat Reese. Although she looked only like her brother in body type, Pure Innocence was just as much as a witch as her brother had been and still was to a certain extent. Her brown eyes flashed angrily when Reese gave her a crack on the butt for being stubborn. Her slim ears fell back into her light red mane and she looked every inch a demonic little princess. "Hey!" Reese shouted when the filly humped her back to buck.
Luckily, the filly was distracted by Wayward Lass breaking into a slow lope. Rather than putting on a show of distemper, the daughter of The Innocent Skier bulleted forward with such a burst of energy that Reese was nearly launched behind the tiny racing saddle. Ripley sighed in relief when the chestnut did not take advantage of her rider's lack of balance. Innocence was just the sort of filly to do such a thing and do it with a vengeance.
"They'll be going a mile with the last furlong being the fastest," Ripley said to Jacob. The older man was leaning against the railing, his eyes glued to the fillies as they navigated the synthetic. Both of them moved with a careless, athletic ease. Their quality was undeniable. He actually quite liked the way Wayward Lass looked and noted to mention to Ripley that she might want to consider Flying Solo as a sire again.
The duo slipped into an easy gallop with Wayward Lass continuing to hold her lead. Her ears were locked back on her rival, a competitive gleam in her eye. Maggie kept her body still as Lassie tugged her forward. Unlike Bond and Para, this little filly didn't need any encouragement to keep her eye on the prize. She was a very competitive bugger and she had the engine to get the job done.
Once Lassie got moving, Reese had a much easier time settling Innocence into her fluid gallop. The lithe horse settled right behind her stablemate, her ears pricking for the first time since the exercise began. Her muscles moved smoothly beneath her shimmering hide as she cranked out easy 12s behind the bay. This was where Innocence was at her finest. Reese knew the horse was good. She knew exactly where she wanted to be from the get-go. She wanted to run with cover and would be a brave horse in the face of traffic. Already, she was more advanced than both Spotlight Pride and Taboo had been at this point in their careers. Even Notorious had wanted to fight David more than run with him in his first year. Her attitude was the size of Texas, but at least she had the brains to compensate.
Maggie was very impressed by what she felt beneath her. The bay filly had a big stride and a confident way of moving. She seemed to settle down despite the pressure from Pure Innocence. Maggie murmured quietly in the filly's ear, keeping a running commentary to keep her that way. She tugged on the reins as they whirled toward the far turn, her hooves quickening over the soft surface. She moved like a train over the ground, her breathing coming easily as though all of this was just a walk in the park.
Reese let Pure Innocence out a notch around the turn, flicking her wrists to let the chestnut know she could give chase. Her response was almost instantaneous, as if she'd known all along that this was what she was expected to do. With swift strides, Innocence swept up on Wayward Lass's outside. Her savage head was at the bay filly's barrel in a matter of seconds. Her ears pressed flat against her skull when she realized that this was more than just a daily gallop.
Both horses took off as if someone had lit their tails on fire into the short lane. Their nostrils flared to twice the normal size as they scorched the ground, head and head, nose and nose. Their late speed after a mile was incredible and although Wayward Lass would ultimately wind up as a sprinter-miler type, she kept up all too willingly with Innocence.
Ripley hit the stopwatch as soon as the duo crossed the line. She exchanged a wide grin with Malcolm and looked at Jacob. The older man was rubbing his chin thoughtfully as he watched the fillies pull up. His eyes were dark, but didn't give him away. She smirked and nodded to herself.
Both Maggie and Reese were smiling when the horses passed by. Wayward Lass was blowing a little, but Innocence looked as right as rain. "She's quiet," Reese remarked excitedly. "Did you see her make up that ground?"
"Sure she made up ground quickly, but Lass gave her a run for her money," Maggie crooned, patting the bay's thick neck. "I don't have a clue what they ran that final furlong in, but it was quick."
"11 and 1," Jacob said suddenly, jolting the two women. "Pretty impressive after a mile run up."
Ripley grinned and patted Jacob's shoulder as she followed the young horses. "I knew you'd show your human side soon enough."
Jacob scoffed, but couldn't stop the tiny smile from fluttering across his features. There was nothing that humanized a man quite as much as a horse.
Soldier Onward
Katana with Maggiletti Reynolds aboard
Amnesty with Laura DeComte aboard
"You are not a fearsome creature," Laura said to the bulky filly she stood before in the barn. The last group of juvenile workouts was coming to a close and the final set comprised of two fillies with totally different temperaments. Laura's filly yawned hugely in her face, blinked the sleep away from her eyes and glanced lazily down the length of the barn to where Katana danced in the cross ties. Laura patted the perfectly shaped star between Amnesty's eyes and grinned. Fearsome Amnesty was not, but she sure was Laura's favorite horse.
Maggie could not say the same about the chestnut filly that was bent on raising hell today. Katana, a daughter of Y12's Preakness, Queen's Plate, and Prince of Wales Stakes winner Instant Success and the untried broodmare Mizadori, was doing her best to annoy her staff. She was much smaller than Amnesty, not a hulking figure in any way, but her terrier attitude made for difficulties. She flung her nose high in the air, avoiding the proferred bit and bridle. Maggie gritted her teeth and motioned for the groom to give up the tack. Heaving a huge breath and begging herself for patience, Maggie stepped up to the plate.
The filly eyed Maggie irritably, daring her to try to make her behave. "Listen, Missy. We've got better things to do than sit in this chilly barn. Ripley wants to get your workout in and darn it, we're going to get your workout in. Don't you want to run?" The filly appeared unconvinced, pinning her ears and lifting her left hind foot in proverbial warning. "Lovely," Maggie muttered.
"Come on, Mags," Laura jeered, stroking Amnesty's neck. Her filly was about to fall asleep waiting around. It was nice to see Maggie struggle. She often got the nicest of horses and Katana was more than happy to turn that trend right around. Laura smirked when Maggie shot her a dirty look and shrugged. "You've been free of equine torment for far too long."
Maggie curled her lip at that, but was quick to take advantage of Katana's distraction. The chestnut filly was completely focused on something happening right outside the door, her ears far forward and her nostrils flaring. Maggie pushed the bit between her soft lips, pressed her thumb into the filly's gum and slid the aluminum bit in place before Katana could even afford a reaction. The pissy look she received hardly touched the flare of satisfaction that Maggie felt at her core. "Take that, little witch."
Maggie glanced over her shoulder to see Ripley poised aboard The Devil's Touch. The thick mare snorted and peered at the younger fillies with arrogant command. "You didn't tell me we'd have The Devil's company today?"
Ripley shrugged. "Only for Katana. I'm tired of her pushing Ashanti around."
Laura snickered and patted Amnesty who was eyeing her relation warily. Both Amnesty and The Devil were descended from Battle Brook's key sire Touch Up and both of them looked as burly as the male monarch. Amnesty snorted and threw her long face into the air, suddenly up in arms. Laura rolled her eyes at the filly's obvious intimidation tactic. "Don't act out with her. You may be young and full of fire, but she's downright nuts and she'll tear you to shreds."
"That's the truth," Lena, Amnesty's groom said as she appeared at Laura's shoulder. "Ready?"
When Laura nodded, Lena grabbed her calf, counted to two and boosted her into the little racing saddle. Lena's soft gray eyes flickered over Amnesty with pride. "I hope Ripley brings me to the track with her. I can't wait to see what she does as a full blown racehorse."
Laura glanced down at the girl, watched her dirty blond ponytail bounce as she led the filly after the agregious Katana. "Ripley is fair. She saw how much work you put into Amnesty and Wayward Lass. Who knows, now that Kendall has moved up to apprentice jock, maybe Ripley will have you join us full time at the track?"
Lena's hopeful gaze met Laura's and reminded her just how far she'd come since meeting Ripley Marsh. Although, the job was tough, it had very rewarding moments. Never had Laura expected to work with such high class thoroughbreds. Luckily, the big barn never seemed to hit a slump. The barn was fairly even in its talent from top horses to undercards and there was always something going on within the ranks that made the money that was needed to keep the place operating smoothly. She would never be able to repay Ripley for taking a chance on her and letting her join a powerhouse team like Battle Brook.
Jacob waited impatiently at the gate, wriggling his fingers in his pockets. He didn't get the hold up. He expected promptness and there was a distinct lack of it at the moment. He scowled down the length of the empty track, eyeing the wide open door that was letting the cold air in. Surely, Ripley knew that he had things to do back home. After all, the horses there were mostly her stock. Grumbling, Jacob looked down at his silver pocket watch again. Quarter past eleven. Unbelievable.
"In a hurry, Briggs?" Malcolm asked, causing the older man to jump out of his skin. The Irishman raised an eyebrow at the disdainful look on Jacob's features, secretly admiring the blatant annoyance. It wouldn't go far with Ripley for she ran on her own schedule and expected everyone to work around it.
"Gold Rush won't train himself," Jacob muttered.
"Nope and thank goodness for that or we'd both be out of a job."
"What horses are next?" Jacob blustered even though he knew full well what was left. Amnesty and Katana. Fillies he'd admired from their bad-mannered yearling days. GS Judgement and Fiery Touch had produced a broad filly of lazy charm. Instant Success and Mizadori had produced a fiery chestnut with too much energy to expend in a 24 hour day. He knew full well that he wanted both of them, but he sure wasn't going to let on to it.
"Amnesty and Katana," Malcolm replied curtly. His eyes were on the well-lit door and the shadowy horses that were marching into the indoor training track. Amnesty led the way, her broad shoulder, coltish body nearly dwarfing Katana. The filly snorted and tossed her head, walking sideways underneath Laura as she took in her surroundings. The lazy creature had disappeared and an intelligent, competitive filly appeared in her place.
Katana lurched onto her back legs excitedly, striking the air much to Maggie's displeasure. She forced the filly to the ground and nudged her into her ground-covering jog. She neighed loudly, announcing her presence to everyone. She looked like a fire-ball and behaved like one. Her eyes flashed excitedly as she caught up to her stable-mate, kicking out sideways and throwing herself forward.
"Come on, you!" Maggie grunted as she pulled the filly's head into the air. The daughter of Instant Success snorted and squeaked, the beginnings of a temper tantrum that Maggie had grown to expect. Amnesty hardly reacted, keeping her path straight and true and her chin nearly to her chest. Laura grinned at Nesty's obvious bomb-proof trait. She was a joy to ride and would be a joy in the face of a championship season.
Ripley joined Malcolm and Jacob at the rail, watching the comic episode that was the chestnut filly. Katana would always be a challenge, but there was no way to contain her fire. The lean filly put up a fight for the majority of the first lap, throwing her head and feet whenever it pleased her. By the time she came to the wire, she was lathered up and still excited. Her energy was boundless and for that Ripley could be grateful. Although, critics of Katana would call her uncontrollable and probably ignore her in the betting, Ripley expected a lot from her.
Amnesty easily swooped into her effortless gallop stride, her big ears flopping over her head. Ripley was stunned by how beautiful the filly had become, so like The Devil and Hourglass that it was eerie. Ripley yearned one day to capture a picture of the three of them. The Devil with her darker coat, Hourglass with her perfect head, and Amnesty with her lazy arrogance and coltish body. Ripley was surprised how like The Devil in appearance Amnesty was and also by her quiet confidence. The Touch Up descendants weren't exactly known for their levelheadness on the track. Even Hourglass had been a bit of a witch to ride; one only had to ask Brookson Wells about his first ride aboard the mare.
The duo galloped easily over the synthetic, Amnesty falling a half-length behind her speedy rival down the backstretch. Katana ran with her head and tail high, even from across the track, Ripley could see that she was on the bit. Gradually, Maggie was able to bring the filly back. Soon she was relaxing in her run, gliding over the ground and moving with Amnesty who was hardly putting in any effort at all.
Jacob was rubbing his hands together in his head at this point. Katana and Amnesty were clicking through solid fractions despite the fact that they weren't supposed to be running all out. Amnesty ate up the ground and Katana kept up the pressure-doggedly without appearing like she was being overworked. He leaned on the rail as they dashed into the far turn, the reins tightening up on both horses.
Amnesty felt the pressure ratchet up and responded with a bold run. She swapped leads fluidly, carried Katana a path wide and when that filly applied pressure to her shoulder, she hardly budged. Maggie straightened the chestnut up, switched the stick to her inside hand and flashed it toward Katana's eye. The chestnut bolted forward, removing Amnesty's gained advantage and battled with her counterpart down the stretch.
The duo whooshed through the line, their legs reaching for more speed with no encouragement at all from their riders. Both fillies galloped out with their ears pricked, getting snarky only when they nearly collided on the clubhouse turn for lack of not paying attention. Laura and Maggie exchanged excited glances, knowing full well that these two held a ton of promise.
"That was exciting," Ripley said, her eyes tracking the pair as they were brought down to boisterous trots.
"Amnesty is all pro," Malcolm said, his eyes beaming with pride. "She really doesn't need much work. She knows exactly what is being asked of her."
"Katana looks like she'll need a firm hand," Jacob interjected, sensing that he might lose Amnesty.
Ripley nodded, raising a brow. She'd seen the same thing in the brilliant filly. She just needed her speed held back. Ripley wasn't so sure if the filly would be this bold in a race with other horses. She'd settled down once Maggie took her back, something a true front-runner wouldn't have given up so easily. Ripley hemmed and hawed. "Both of them are good fillies. I really think we'll have a strong presence in the filly races in Year Seventeen... We'll see how the train next week, but these two will be both early starters maybe stars as well..."
Amnesty with Laura DeComte aboard
"You are not a fearsome creature," Laura said to the bulky filly she stood before in the barn. The last group of juvenile workouts was coming to a close and the final set comprised of two fillies with totally different temperaments. Laura's filly yawned hugely in her face, blinked the sleep away from her eyes and glanced lazily down the length of the barn to where Katana danced in the cross ties. Laura patted the perfectly shaped star between Amnesty's eyes and grinned. Fearsome Amnesty was not, but she sure was Laura's favorite horse.
Maggie could not say the same about the chestnut filly that was bent on raising hell today. Katana, a daughter of Y12's Preakness, Queen's Plate, and Prince of Wales Stakes winner Instant Success and the untried broodmare Mizadori, was doing her best to annoy her staff. She was much smaller than Amnesty, not a hulking figure in any way, but her terrier attitude made for difficulties. She flung her nose high in the air, avoiding the proferred bit and bridle. Maggie gritted her teeth and motioned for the groom to give up the tack. Heaving a huge breath and begging herself for patience, Maggie stepped up to the plate.
The filly eyed Maggie irritably, daring her to try to make her behave. "Listen, Missy. We've got better things to do than sit in this chilly barn. Ripley wants to get your workout in and darn it, we're going to get your workout in. Don't you want to run?" The filly appeared unconvinced, pinning her ears and lifting her left hind foot in proverbial warning. "Lovely," Maggie muttered.
"Come on, Mags," Laura jeered, stroking Amnesty's neck. Her filly was about to fall asleep waiting around. It was nice to see Maggie struggle. She often got the nicest of horses and Katana was more than happy to turn that trend right around. Laura smirked when Maggie shot her a dirty look and shrugged. "You've been free of equine torment for far too long."
Maggie curled her lip at that, but was quick to take advantage of Katana's distraction. The chestnut filly was completely focused on something happening right outside the door, her ears far forward and her nostrils flaring. Maggie pushed the bit between her soft lips, pressed her thumb into the filly's gum and slid the aluminum bit in place before Katana could even afford a reaction. The pissy look she received hardly touched the flare of satisfaction that Maggie felt at her core. "Take that, little witch."
Maggie glanced over her shoulder to see Ripley poised aboard The Devil's Touch. The thick mare snorted and peered at the younger fillies with arrogant command. "You didn't tell me we'd have The Devil's company today?"
Ripley shrugged. "Only for Katana. I'm tired of her pushing Ashanti around."
Laura snickered and patted Amnesty who was eyeing her relation warily. Both Amnesty and The Devil were descended from Battle Brook's key sire Touch Up and both of them looked as burly as the male monarch. Amnesty snorted and threw her long face into the air, suddenly up in arms. Laura rolled her eyes at the filly's obvious intimidation tactic. "Don't act out with her. You may be young and full of fire, but she's downright nuts and she'll tear you to shreds."
"That's the truth," Lena, Amnesty's groom said as she appeared at Laura's shoulder. "Ready?"
When Laura nodded, Lena grabbed her calf, counted to two and boosted her into the little racing saddle. Lena's soft gray eyes flickered over Amnesty with pride. "I hope Ripley brings me to the track with her. I can't wait to see what she does as a full blown racehorse."
Laura glanced down at the girl, watched her dirty blond ponytail bounce as she led the filly after the agregious Katana. "Ripley is fair. She saw how much work you put into Amnesty and Wayward Lass. Who knows, now that Kendall has moved up to apprentice jock, maybe Ripley will have you join us full time at the track?"
Lena's hopeful gaze met Laura's and reminded her just how far she'd come since meeting Ripley Marsh. Although, the job was tough, it had very rewarding moments. Never had Laura expected to work with such high class thoroughbreds. Luckily, the big barn never seemed to hit a slump. The barn was fairly even in its talent from top horses to undercards and there was always something going on within the ranks that made the money that was needed to keep the place operating smoothly. She would never be able to repay Ripley for taking a chance on her and letting her join a powerhouse team like Battle Brook.
Jacob waited impatiently at the gate, wriggling his fingers in his pockets. He didn't get the hold up. He expected promptness and there was a distinct lack of it at the moment. He scowled down the length of the empty track, eyeing the wide open door that was letting the cold air in. Surely, Ripley knew that he had things to do back home. After all, the horses there were mostly her stock. Grumbling, Jacob looked down at his silver pocket watch again. Quarter past eleven. Unbelievable.
"In a hurry, Briggs?" Malcolm asked, causing the older man to jump out of his skin. The Irishman raised an eyebrow at the disdainful look on Jacob's features, secretly admiring the blatant annoyance. It wouldn't go far with Ripley for she ran on her own schedule and expected everyone to work around it.
"Gold Rush won't train himself," Jacob muttered.
"Nope and thank goodness for that or we'd both be out of a job."
"What horses are next?" Jacob blustered even though he knew full well what was left. Amnesty and Katana. Fillies he'd admired from their bad-mannered yearling days. GS Judgement and Fiery Touch had produced a broad filly of lazy charm. Instant Success and Mizadori had produced a fiery chestnut with too much energy to expend in a 24 hour day. He knew full well that he wanted both of them, but he sure wasn't going to let on to it.
"Amnesty and Katana," Malcolm replied curtly. His eyes were on the well-lit door and the shadowy horses that were marching into the indoor training track. Amnesty led the way, her broad shoulder, coltish body nearly dwarfing Katana. The filly snorted and tossed her head, walking sideways underneath Laura as she took in her surroundings. The lazy creature had disappeared and an intelligent, competitive filly appeared in her place.
Katana lurched onto her back legs excitedly, striking the air much to Maggie's displeasure. She forced the filly to the ground and nudged her into her ground-covering jog. She neighed loudly, announcing her presence to everyone. She looked like a fire-ball and behaved like one. Her eyes flashed excitedly as she caught up to her stable-mate, kicking out sideways and throwing herself forward.
"Come on, you!" Maggie grunted as she pulled the filly's head into the air. The daughter of Instant Success snorted and squeaked, the beginnings of a temper tantrum that Maggie had grown to expect. Amnesty hardly reacted, keeping her path straight and true and her chin nearly to her chest. Laura grinned at Nesty's obvious bomb-proof trait. She was a joy to ride and would be a joy in the face of a championship season.
Ripley joined Malcolm and Jacob at the rail, watching the comic episode that was the chestnut filly. Katana would always be a challenge, but there was no way to contain her fire. The lean filly put up a fight for the majority of the first lap, throwing her head and feet whenever it pleased her. By the time she came to the wire, she was lathered up and still excited. Her energy was boundless and for that Ripley could be grateful. Although, critics of Katana would call her uncontrollable and probably ignore her in the betting, Ripley expected a lot from her.
Amnesty easily swooped into her effortless gallop stride, her big ears flopping over her head. Ripley was stunned by how beautiful the filly had become, so like The Devil and Hourglass that it was eerie. Ripley yearned one day to capture a picture of the three of them. The Devil with her darker coat, Hourglass with her perfect head, and Amnesty with her lazy arrogance and coltish body. Ripley was surprised how like The Devil in appearance Amnesty was and also by her quiet confidence. The Touch Up descendants weren't exactly known for their levelheadness on the track. Even Hourglass had been a bit of a witch to ride; one only had to ask Brookson Wells about his first ride aboard the mare.
The duo galloped easily over the synthetic, Amnesty falling a half-length behind her speedy rival down the backstretch. Katana ran with her head and tail high, even from across the track, Ripley could see that she was on the bit. Gradually, Maggie was able to bring the filly back. Soon she was relaxing in her run, gliding over the ground and moving with Amnesty who was hardly putting in any effort at all.
Jacob was rubbing his hands together in his head at this point. Katana and Amnesty were clicking through solid fractions despite the fact that they weren't supposed to be running all out. Amnesty ate up the ground and Katana kept up the pressure-doggedly without appearing like she was being overworked. He leaned on the rail as they dashed into the far turn, the reins tightening up on both horses.
Amnesty felt the pressure ratchet up and responded with a bold run. She swapped leads fluidly, carried Katana a path wide and when that filly applied pressure to her shoulder, she hardly budged. Maggie straightened the chestnut up, switched the stick to her inside hand and flashed it toward Katana's eye. The chestnut bolted forward, removing Amnesty's gained advantage and battled with her counterpart down the stretch.
The duo whooshed through the line, their legs reaching for more speed with no encouragement at all from their riders. Both fillies galloped out with their ears pricked, getting snarky only when they nearly collided on the clubhouse turn for lack of not paying attention. Laura and Maggie exchanged excited glances, knowing full well that these two held a ton of promise.
"That was exciting," Ripley said, her eyes tracking the pair as they were brought down to boisterous trots.
"Amnesty is all pro," Malcolm said, his eyes beaming with pride. "She really doesn't need much work. She knows exactly what is being asked of her."
"Katana looks like she'll need a firm hand," Jacob interjected, sensing that he might lose Amnesty.
Ripley nodded, raising a brow. She'd seen the same thing in the brilliant filly. She just needed her speed held back. Ripley wasn't so sure if the filly would be this bold in a race with other horses. She'd settled down once Maggie took her back, something a true front-runner wouldn't have given up so easily. Ripley hemmed and hawed. "Both of them are good fillies. I really think we'll have a strong presence in the filly races in Year Seventeen... We'll see how the train next week, but these two will be both early starters maybe stars as well..."
Rivals!
Bold Trick with Justin Santiago aboard
Vitriol with Brookson Wells aboard
A wild buzz of anticipation whipped through the doors of the indoor track in the form of chattering humans. Ripley narrowed her eyes on the group of women. Laura, Maggie and Reese weren't supposed to be here. They were supposed to be rubbing horses down with liniment and wrapping them after their morning gallops. She knew why they were here. She couldn't fault them for the reason, but she didn't approve of putting the barn on hold to witness a gallop.
Although, it would be a promising gallop to say the least. Ripley shifted her gaze from the women to the pair of horses jogging around the track. Each colt was a spectacle of class and unmatched grace. Ripley was certain that these two colts could be her best since Saint and Sun King. While Uno and Cascabel each were coming into their own right, both of them had taken a little bit to warm up to Battle Brook's training. Cascabel had been an unknown and Uno too lazy as a juvenile, although he'd had his shining moments. However, this time Ripley was absolutely certain she had two superstars waiting in the wings. Bold Trick and Vitriol, sons of some of the best well bred horses in the game were looking to carry on the mantle of champions.
Justin let out a breath when Bold Trick flung his head down nearly to his knees and threatened to buck. He quickly yanked up the colt's head with the reins and chirped for him to move forward. The solid colored dark bay squealed, but did as he was asked. Justin let out his ripple of breath, relieved that he wouldn't feel the power of Bold Trick's buck at this time. The colt was too much horse for his own good at times and the winter had him as explosive as a powder keg doused in gasoline. "Easy Tank," Justin muttered as the horse leaped forward, crow hopping as an excuse to misbehave. "Stop it!" Justin growled.
Vitriol's intensity under saddle was almost palpable. The air itself seemed to crackle around the son of Ashes to Ashes as he loped over the synthetic. His legs were perfectly underneath him, his every stride buoyant with vibrant energy and the threat of speed. While Bold Trick misbehaved to get rid of his fierce energy, Vitriol threatened to run away with Brooks. The colt snorted with every giant stride, pressing his mouth as hard as he could against the bit in his mouth. He demanded to run and already Brooks could feel his arm muscles protesting in response. "Let off the gas pedal a little, will you?"
Jacob knew from the gleam in Ripley's eye that both of these colts were firmly off limits to him. When Malcolm leaned against the rail and smiled boldly in his direction, the unspoken announcement was made official. "Don't they look like everything you imagined they would?" Malcolm asked Ripley.
The trainer nodded and smirked when Bold Trick crossed in front of them a second time. Every muscle was coiled powerfully beneath the long winter hide, giving her full view of the future potential of the son of Red Herring and Silver Tide. "I think...that there is potential for The Tank to be the best foal Silver Tide has ever thrown. Doesn't he look just like Akuma Battlecry?"
Akuma Battlecry was a horse that Ripley had fallen in love with a long time ago. She'd coveted any horse descending from his lines and since she couldn't get her hands on that horse, she'd gotten a foal out of his dam instead. In Ripley's mind Akuma Battlecry had cemented himself as Impreassario's opposite on the dirt. She itched to duplicate the sire of Sunset Crusade, Lusitania's Warrior and War Cry, but also intended for Red Herring to pass on his grit and competitiveness. Trained by Ripley in his early career and finished off by Firestone Racing, the brilliant chestnut stallion had racked up wins in the Honorable Stakes and Winter Dawn Treader Cup before retiring to stud. He'd given her and Firestone Racing two of the best offspring they'd ever seen and Ripley expected that to continue well into the future.
Instead of answering Malcolm, Ripley looked to Vitriol. The lighter bay had collected himself into a spring, ready to burst apart at any moment's notice. Both colts were ready to leap into their careers full throttle. She wanted to do more than just the gallop with the last furlong demonstration, but that was against protocal. Stuffing her desires into a teensy box, Ripley huffed and motioned for Brooks to pull Vitriol up. Visions of Screaming Mimi and Ashes to Ashes battled in her brain as the horse neared. Screaming Mimi's powerful body and Ashes' tapered head gave Ripley the best of both dam and sire. She hoped their personality and speed carried over to the track. What she'd seen so far gave her more than just a small hope. She expected a lot from this guy as well as Bold Trick.
"Just the gallop and one furlong sprint today, Brooks," Ripley said. She placed a hand on Vitriol's quivering nose, looking into the fiery eyes of a colt all grown up. Once upon a time, Vitriol had been her angel, a sweetheart always looking for a rub and a treat. Now, he was an athlete, bitter about losing and arrogant when winning. Ripley peered beyond the two year old at the pending disaster that was Bold Trick. "Please break off into a gallop before that horse dumps Justin."
On a hearty laugh, Brooks turned Vitriol and let him go. The horse's break was so quick that clumps of mud hit Ripley and Jacob in the chest. Jacob brushed the dirt from his jacket and muttered something about not tolerating abuse, but his words fell on deaf ears. All three trainers and the Battle Brook female jockeys watched as Vitriol stormed down the track, bowing his neck and dragging Brooks forward in a demand for more rein. It wasn't given, but the fight caused the colt to pass disturbingly close to Bold Trick. A foot of air was difference between the two colts, but soon Vitriol was swooping by his counterpart and taking the lead.
Bold Trick's head flew high into the air when dirt spattered his chest, but he was quick to take off. Justin was almost relieved that the colt was running instead of fighting. The dark horse gradually moved into his easy gallop, seemingly unhurried in the face of Vitriol's outright ferocity. While that horse practically ran away with Brooks, Bold Trick kept his measured pace, only increasing when the other horse threatened to break away. Justin leaned forward over The Tank's neck, keeping his hands light on the reins and his body poised. There was one thing that made Bold Trick very similar to Uno: he hated being babysat. Any encouragement would have this horse freezing up in a heartbeat and that simply would not be allowed.
The duo were five lengths apart at the half-mile pole and each moving well within their capabilities. While Vitriol knocked out every furlong with blazing speed, Bold Trick loped with easy confidence. The differences captivated the audience as Vitriol surged into the far turn, ears pinned flat to his neck. Jacob called the time for Vitriol, surprisingly Ripley with its swiftness, and then the time for Bold Trick, shocking her with his easy going stride. How such a raging horse could appear so relaxed and turn in this blazing time was crazy to the trainer.
Justin let the reins slide through his fingers and he showed Bold Trick the whip. That tiny little urging had the horse settling down for a run. Justin tightened his grip on the reins and leaned with the horse as he suddenly went from loping well to running like a freight train. The horse lengthened his stride and ate up the ground, collapsing the gulf between himself and Vitriol with devastating ease that took the breath away from the audience.
Vitriol sensed Bold Trick's presence and bulleted forward into the final furlong. He drove forward with such tenacity that even Bold Trick's grinding run was temporarily stunted. However, soon that darker rival was coming back for him, pounding the synthetic as he drew within a head of his new arch-nemesis. The colts locked eyes, regarding each other with mutual respect and loathing. No one could be better here, but neither could lose. They soared through the wire still engaged and unrelenting even when their riders said enough.
Jacob let out a low whistle when the riders finally pulled the horses up in the backside. "I don't know much Ripley, but I do know that was probably the fastest furlong I've seen after a seven furlong lead up..."
Malcolm and Ripley exchanged looks, starstruck as much as stunned. Suddenly, the tension between the trio ramped up. Laura let out a hoot when the jockeys returned with their mounts still spoiling for a fight. "Going forward," Ripley began as she darted under the railing to go over the horses. "These two aren't working out with each other anymore. They aren't going to kill themselves off in a workout just to a prove point."
"And what happens if they race?" Jacob pressured. Ripley could hardly believe that neither of the horses were breathing heavy. Vitriol looked furious and Bold Trick snide, but neither appeared exhausted or winded.
"Then we'll find out at that point in time who the better horse is," Ripley said firmly, effectively ending any further conversation about another match up. She'd gained something while watching that workout and it was not elation. It was more like fear. Fear that these two ultra-talented horses might break down before they'd even hit the track. In a sport where heartbreak could lie behind every triumph, fear was as unwelcome as a rattlesnake.
Vitriol with Brookson Wells aboard
A wild buzz of anticipation whipped through the doors of the indoor track in the form of chattering humans. Ripley narrowed her eyes on the group of women. Laura, Maggie and Reese weren't supposed to be here. They were supposed to be rubbing horses down with liniment and wrapping them after their morning gallops. She knew why they were here. She couldn't fault them for the reason, but she didn't approve of putting the barn on hold to witness a gallop.
Although, it would be a promising gallop to say the least. Ripley shifted her gaze from the women to the pair of horses jogging around the track. Each colt was a spectacle of class and unmatched grace. Ripley was certain that these two colts could be her best since Saint and Sun King. While Uno and Cascabel each were coming into their own right, both of them had taken a little bit to warm up to Battle Brook's training. Cascabel had been an unknown and Uno too lazy as a juvenile, although he'd had his shining moments. However, this time Ripley was absolutely certain she had two superstars waiting in the wings. Bold Trick and Vitriol, sons of some of the best well bred horses in the game were looking to carry on the mantle of champions.
Justin let out a breath when Bold Trick flung his head down nearly to his knees and threatened to buck. He quickly yanked up the colt's head with the reins and chirped for him to move forward. The solid colored dark bay squealed, but did as he was asked. Justin let out his ripple of breath, relieved that he wouldn't feel the power of Bold Trick's buck at this time. The colt was too much horse for his own good at times and the winter had him as explosive as a powder keg doused in gasoline. "Easy Tank," Justin muttered as the horse leaped forward, crow hopping as an excuse to misbehave. "Stop it!" Justin growled.
Vitriol's intensity under saddle was almost palpable. The air itself seemed to crackle around the son of Ashes to Ashes as he loped over the synthetic. His legs were perfectly underneath him, his every stride buoyant with vibrant energy and the threat of speed. While Bold Trick misbehaved to get rid of his fierce energy, Vitriol threatened to run away with Brooks. The colt snorted with every giant stride, pressing his mouth as hard as he could against the bit in his mouth. He demanded to run and already Brooks could feel his arm muscles protesting in response. "Let off the gas pedal a little, will you?"
Jacob knew from the gleam in Ripley's eye that both of these colts were firmly off limits to him. When Malcolm leaned against the rail and smiled boldly in his direction, the unspoken announcement was made official. "Don't they look like everything you imagined they would?" Malcolm asked Ripley.
The trainer nodded and smirked when Bold Trick crossed in front of them a second time. Every muscle was coiled powerfully beneath the long winter hide, giving her full view of the future potential of the son of Red Herring and Silver Tide. "I think...that there is potential for The Tank to be the best foal Silver Tide has ever thrown. Doesn't he look just like Akuma Battlecry?"
Akuma Battlecry was a horse that Ripley had fallen in love with a long time ago. She'd coveted any horse descending from his lines and since she couldn't get her hands on that horse, she'd gotten a foal out of his dam instead. In Ripley's mind Akuma Battlecry had cemented himself as Impreassario's opposite on the dirt. She itched to duplicate the sire of Sunset Crusade, Lusitania's Warrior and War Cry, but also intended for Red Herring to pass on his grit and competitiveness. Trained by Ripley in his early career and finished off by Firestone Racing, the brilliant chestnut stallion had racked up wins in the Honorable Stakes and Winter Dawn Treader Cup before retiring to stud. He'd given her and Firestone Racing two of the best offspring they'd ever seen and Ripley expected that to continue well into the future.
Instead of answering Malcolm, Ripley looked to Vitriol. The lighter bay had collected himself into a spring, ready to burst apart at any moment's notice. Both colts were ready to leap into their careers full throttle. She wanted to do more than just the gallop with the last furlong demonstration, but that was against protocal. Stuffing her desires into a teensy box, Ripley huffed and motioned for Brooks to pull Vitriol up. Visions of Screaming Mimi and Ashes to Ashes battled in her brain as the horse neared. Screaming Mimi's powerful body and Ashes' tapered head gave Ripley the best of both dam and sire. She hoped their personality and speed carried over to the track. What she'd seen so far gave her more than just a small hope. She expected a lot from this guy as well as Bold Trick.
"Just the gallop and one furlong sprint today, Brooks," Ripley said. She placed a hand on Vitriol's quivering nose, looking into the fiery eyes of a colt all grown up. Once upon a time, Vitriol had been her angel, a sweetheart always looking for a rub and a treat. Now, he was an athlete, bitter about losing and arrogant when winning. Ripley peered beyond the two year old at the pending disaster that was Bold Trick. "Please break off into a gallop before that horse dumps Justin."
On a hearty laugh, Brooks turned Vitriol and let him go. The horse's break was so quick that clumps of mud hit Ripley and Jacob in the chest. Jacob brushed the dirt from his jacket and muttered something about not tolerating abuse, but his words fell on deaf ears. All three trainers and the Battle Brook female jockeys watched as Vitriol stormed down the track, bowing his neck and dragging Brooks forward in a demand for more rein. It wasn't given, but the fight caused the colt to pass disturbingly close to Bold Trick. A foot of air was difference between the two colts, but soon Vitriol was swooping by his counterpart and taking the lead.
Bold Trick's head flew high into the air when dirt spattered his chest, but he was quick to take off. Justin was almost relieved that the colt was running instead of fighting. The dark horse gradually moved into his easy gallop, seemingly unhurried in the face of Vitriol's outright ferocity. While that horse practically ran away with Brooks, Bold Trick kept his measured pace, only increasing when the other horse threatened to break away. Justin leaned forward over The Tank's neck, keeping his hands light on the reins and his body poised. There was one thing that made Bold Trick very similar to Uno: he hated being babysat. Any encouragement would have this horse freezing up in a heartbeat and that simply would not be allowed.
The duo were five lengths apart at the half-mile pole and each moving well within their capabilities. While Vitriol knocked out every furlong with blazing speed, Bold Trick loped with easy confidence. The differences captivated the audience as Vitriol surged into the far turn, ears pinned flat to his neck. Jacob called the time for Vitriol, surprisingly Ripley with its swiftness, and then the time for Bold Trick, shocking her with his easy going stride. How such a raging horse could appear so relaxed and turn in this blazing time was crazy to the trainer.
Justin let the reins slide through his fingers and he showed Bold Trick the whip. That tiny little urging had the horse settling down for a run. Justin tightened his grip on the reins and leaned with the horse as he suddenly went from loping well to running like a freight train. The horse lengthened his stride and ate up the ground, collapsing the gulf between himself and Vitriol with devastating ease that took the breath away from the audience.
Vitriol sensed Bold Trick's presence and bulleted forward into the final furlong. He drove forward with such tenacity that even Bold Trick's grinding run was temporarily stunted. However, soon that darker rival was coming back for him, pounding the synthetic as he drew within a head of his new arch-nemesis. The colts locked eyes, regarding each other with mutual respect and loathing. No one could be better here, but neither could lose. They soared through the wire still engaged and unrelenting even when their riders said enough.
Jacob let out a low whistle when the riders finally pulled the horses up in the backside. "I don't know much Ripley, but I do know that was probably the fastest furlong I've seen after a seven furlong lead up..."
Malcolm and Ripley exchanged looks, starstruck as much as stunned. Suddenly, the tension between the trio ramped up. Laura let out a hoot when the jockeys returned with their mounts still spoiling for a fight. "Going forward," Ripley began as she darted under the railing to go over the horses. "These two aren't working out with each other anymore. They aren't going to kill themselves off in a workout just to a prove point."
"And what happens if they race?" Jacob pressured. Ripley could hardly believe that neither of the horses were breathing heavy. Vitriol looked furious and Bold Trick snide, but neither appeared exhausted or winded.
"Then we'll find out at that point in time who the better horse is," Ripley said firmly, effectively ending any further conversation about another match up. She'd gained something while watching that workout and it was not elation. It was more like fear. Fear that these two ultra-talented horses might break down before they'd even hit the track. In a sport where heartbreak could lie behind every triumph, fear was as unwelcome as a rattlesnake.
Jazz Hands
All That Jazz with David Carter aboard
Summer Romance with Kendall Williams aboard
Final Judgement with Justin Santiago aboard
Ripley stood along the fence, eyeing the trio of horses that were jogging along the outside rail of the grass run. She couldn't believe how far she'd come in a matter of years. In Year Twelve, she'd been the returning underdog and now, she was one of the premier barns in the USA. Battle Brook, nee Witch Creek, now covered a massive swath of territory with four different tracks: an indoor synthetic, a massive stamina builder in the straight turf course, a fantastically maintained dirt track and now a smaller run that looped inside of the dirt track.
Last year had been extremely lucrative for business and her breeding barn was more active than ever with outside interest knocking on the door or phoning every day. The expansive operation was in the black and prospering, but there were times where Ripley simply wanted to go back to basics. She wanted those old underdog days where her hands were on every single horse in the operation, where she galloped the horses every day and rubbed them down after a hard race. She wanted to make her mark, but it was tougher now. She was a mother of one child and fiance to a man. She had more in home responsibility and it competed every day with her employment choice.
She simply wanted to feel like herself again. With this second pregnancy, her old doubts flared up more often. She rubbed her swollen stomach, sighed and attempted to push worrisome thoughts to the back of her mind. Now was not the time to ponder the trials and tribulations of motherhood and success. It would only give her a headache.
The thoroughbreds marched along the rail, their heads neatly tucked as they mouthed the bits. Two of the horses were relatively unfamiliar still in terms of racing and longevity with Battle Brook. The dark mare with star and stripe on her face had a familiar face in Finale Slew in her pedigree, but otherwise Ripley had only watched her from afar. She'd pulled for the decidedly difficult female, but often her attitude seemed to overcome her talent as a younger horse. Fitted with a firmer bit and a more rigorous training program, Ripley was already seeing a difference in the notorious All That Jazz. Where she once fought to even stay at a jog, Jazz now moved obediently along. Once in a while she'd switch that long black tail, but otherwise she obeyed David Carter without a qualm.
The middle mare, a lithe cat of a horse, was much more familiar. Summer Romance was BBS bred and raised. Her sire, once underbred, now was becoming a top turf sire thanks to the exploits of Refute and his juvenile stars Eternally Smoldering and Incineration. Summer Romance had been nowhere near as precocious as the latter two, but she was steadily coming to hand. Her late fall efforts had resulted in three wins and a second in the Codero Hunt Mile, an October HOTY race. Her workouts were becoming fiercer and her gallops routinely looked like breezes. While Jazz was in the business of calming down, Ro was in the business of firing up. It was delightful to see the once frantic filly relaxing and enjoying her job as a racehorse.
The final horse, a colt, was the newest of them all, but he wasn't the first GS Judgement offspring to grace BBS's premises. The half-brother to the juvenile filly Amnesty, Final Judgement was coming into the new year full of vinegar off his win in December Week 4. A newly crowned grade four juvenile, Ripley suspected that he was finally getting the hang of racing. If he were ever to step up in company, experience would help the most. Justin Santiago tapped the colt on the hip when he threatened to balk. The arab-faced creature twitched his tail angrily, but he stepped off. His muscles were coiled and strong. Although, he'd been around since December Wk 4, he was still new to the program.
Justin grimaced when Judge threatened to buck. "I thought you were supposed to be a mellow yellow," Justin said through gritted teeth. Judge shook his head in frustration, cocking his head to eye the older mares. Summer Romance and All That Jazz were a good three hundred yards ahead of the horse and moved like a well-oiled team. Justin knew that Judge's keyed up attitude had a lot to do with being competitive rather than being studly. He was an easy going horse on the ground, but he had his delinquent moments when the time suited. Justin preferred that it didn't happen now because the rails were tighter on the inner grass run in this section on the turn. Justin kissed to the colt, allowing him to step into his rock-a-by lope. The colt snorted and his extended his stride to cover more ground at a faster rate.
David brought All That Jazz down to a walk once the run expanded to the 20 ft diameter on the main straightaway. The mare cocked her ears to track Summer Romance when the narrow mare joined her. Ro's eyes flashed excitedly, recognizing the difference between now and her daily gallops. On those days, she was allowed to move as she pleased, going from walk to jog to canter and then to her graceful gallop. Only on workout days was she brought back to her walk. She mouthed the bit excitedly, sidestepping under Kendall to let her rider know that she was fully aware what was going on.
Jazz let loose a longing neigh to Judge when he drew within talking distance. The colt hollered back, his voice deep and commanding despite his youth. Justin rolled his eyes and gave the colt a proper squeeze with his calves. Judge snorted but obediently moved in front of the mares. Try that with Notorious and you would be on the ground, Justin thought. The Like A Cheetah four year old was hardly chaste or discreet about his studly needs.
Ripley lifted the binoculars to her green eyes once Judge took command of the little band. The colt would give the older gals a run for their money, but today was going to be an eye opener. This would be Ro's fourth major workout and All That Jazz's final tightener. The rest was over. It was time to get the mares back on the turf where they belonged and time to prove that good days indeed were ahead of them.
Kendall stood in her stirrups when Ro eased into her graceful gallop, taking up the middle slot between Judge and Jazz. Six lengths separated them from front to back, a product of the new course. The expansive turf track emphasized stamina, the narrow run emphasized patience and well-timed moves, more European in style than American. Kendall eyeballed the rails on either side of her running mare, not totally confident in the confines yet. She saw the benefit and thought Ro and the other two were already significantly improved since this method started.
Justin leaned close to Judge's bobbing head, keeping the reins tight in his hands, not letting the horse spread himself too much yet. Maintaining the lead was less about crazy speed and more about tactics. Great front runners like Spotlight Pride and Casualty Of War were great because of their ability to dole out their speed in a measured way. Try catching Pride when he clocked a :23 and :48 half. It wouldn't happen. Judge was far more easy going than that chestnut speedball, hence why Justin was his rider instead of Reese. Judge cruised over the turf, his ears pricked ahead. He moved confidently over the trimmed grass, like he'd done it all his life instead of the last week and a half.
David crouched at All That Jazz's withers, his hands practically in his lap. Easily the burliest of the trio, Jazz was a lot to handle. She'd grown significantly in her down time, the reason why Grayson Meadows had stopped on her. While she was not a tall mare, she had grown out and had needed the time to just be a horse and get fat in a pasture. Now, dappled and muscled, she was refreshed for a bigger adventure. The plan was to get the handsome mare ready for the end of the year when the big turf distaff races became more prominent. It was a grand idea and one that David knew Ripley could put into motion. He felt so much more power in Jazz than he had when she first arrived. Felt the strength, the confidence and knew that this version of Jazz would be far different than anything she'd been at two and three.
The first three furlongs were relatively uneventful with Judge maintaining a purposeful lead. He pressed harder against the bit as they entered the turn, leaning just so slightly. He was an athletic bugger and switched leads with effortless ease. Justin grinned when the colt shot into the stretch, staying close to the rail instead of fanning wide in the face of the open expanse. It was a good thing too because suddenly they were being accosted by Summer Romance. The older mare flashed her agile speed and dared Judge to keep going. Her dainty head was at his neck before the colt could even react.
Justin flashed Judge the whip and got a response, a bigger improvement than his last few runs. No longer tiring or inexperienced, Final Judgement bounded forward along the rail, braving the claustrophobia and engaged Summer Romance in a battle. Kendall, sensing the swiftness of the run, kept her hands quiet, knowing full well that anything further would burn both horses out for their first races of the season.
All That Jazz was full of run at this point, she wanted to thunder over top of the other two. Her head was lifted high as she fought for space and a spot to run. David admired her competitiveness while he battled frustration. He knew that the point of the narrow run was supposed to encourage patience, but sometimes he just wanted to blow by the others. Finally, Judge and Ro moved over enough that Jazz could dash up on the outside. With a quick bit of reinwork and a flick of the whip, Jazz simultaneously skipped over Ro's heels and surged forward, closing with remarkable precision to make the wire dead even with the others.
The trio continued forward at a strong pace, galloping strongly until they were forced to pull up and honor the narrow rails again. Ripley waited for them to slow to controlled canters on the backstretch before she glanced at her watch. The final furlong was scintillating and encouraging. A 10 2/5 furlong was highly encouraging, no doubt the final furlong would have the trio sharp for their first runs of Year Seventeen. Although Ripley was no longer considered an underdog, these three were. Perhaps, at the end, they wouldn't be and for that, Ripley was beyond excited.
Summer Romance with Kendall Williams aboard
Final Judgement with Justin Santiago aboard
Ripley stood along the fence, eyeing the trio of horses that were jogging along the outside rail of the grass run. She couldn't believe how far she'd come in a matter of years. In Year Twelve, she'd been the returning underdog and now, she was one of the premier barns in the USA. Battle Brook, nee Witch Creek, now covered a massive swath of territory with four different tracks: an indoor synthetic, a massive stamina builder in the straight turf course, a fantastically maintained dirt track and now a smaller run that looped inside of the dirt track.
Last year had been extremely lucrative for business and her breeding barn was more active than ever with outside interest knocking on the door or phoning every day. The expansive operation was in the black and prospering, but there were times where Ripley simply wanted to go back to basics. She wanted those old underdog days where her hands were on every single horse in the operation, where she galloped the horses every day and rubbed them down after a hard race. She wanted to make her mark, but it was tougher now. She was a mother of one child and fiance to a man. She had more in home responsibility and it competed every day with her employment choice.
She simply wanted to feel like herself again. With this second pregnancy, her old doubts flared up more often. She rubbed her swollen stomach, sighed and attempted to push worrisome thoughts to the back of her mind. Now was not the time to ponder the trials and tribulations of motherhood and success. It would only give her a headache.
The thoroughbreds marched along the rail, their heads neatly tucked as they mouthed the bits. Two of the horses were relatively unfamiliar still in terms of racing and longevity with Battle Brook. The dark mare with star and stripe on her face had a familiar face in Finale Slew in her pedigree, but otherwise Ripley had only watched her from afar. She'd pulled for the decidedly difficult female, but often her attitude seemed to overcome her talent as a younger horse. Fitted with a firmer bit and a more rigorous training program, Ripley was already seeing a difference in the notorious All That Jazz. Where she once fought to even stay at a jog, Jazz now moved obediently along. Once in a while she'd switch that long black tail, but otherwise she obeyed David Carter without a qualm.
The middle mare, a lithe cat of a horse, was much more familiar. Summer Romance was BBS bred and raised. Her sire, once underbred, now was becoming a top turf sire thanks to the exploits of Refute and his juvenile stars Eternally Smoldering and Incineration. Summer Romance had been nowhere near as precocious as the latter two, but she was steadily coming to hand. Her late fall efforts had resulted in three wins and a second in the Codero Hunt Mile, an October HOTY race. Her workouts were becoming fiercer and her gallops routinely looked like breezes. While Jazz was in the business of calming down, Ro was in the business of firing up. It was delightful to see the once frantic filly relaxing and enjoying her job as a racehorse.
The final horse, a colt, was the newest of them all, but he wasn't the first GS Judgement offspring to grace BBS's premises. The half-brother to the juvenile filly Amnesty, Final Judgement was coming into the new year full of vinegar off his win in December Week 4. A newly crowned grade four juvenile, Ripley suspected that he was finally getting the hang of racing. If he were ever to step up in company, experience would help the most. Justin Santiago tapped the colt on the hip when he threatened to balk. The arab-faced creature twitched his tail angrily, but he stepped off. His muscles were coiled and strong. Although, he'd been around since December Wk 4, he was still new to the program.
Justin grimaced when Judge threatened to buck. "I thought you were supposed to be a mellow yellow," Justin said through gritted teeth. Judge shook his head in frustration, cocking his head to eye the older mares. Summer Romance and All That Jazz were a good three hundred yards ahead of the horse and moved like a well-oiled team. Justin knew that Judge's keyed up attitude had a lot to do with being competitive rather than being studly. He was an easy going horse on the ground, but he had his delinquent moments when the time suited. Justin preferred that it didn't happen now because the rails were tighter on the inner grass run in this section on the turn. Justin kissed to the colt, allowing him to step into his rock-a-by lope. The colt snorted and his extended his stride to cover more ground at a faster rate.
David brought All That Jazz down to a walk once the run expanded to the 20 ft diameter on the main straightaway. The mare cocked her ears to track Summer Romance when the narrow mare joined her. Ro's eyes flashed excitedly, recognizing the difference between now and her daily gallops. On those days, she was allowed to move as she pleased, going from walk to jog to canter and then to her graceful gallop. Only on workout days was she brought back to her walk. She mouthed the bit excitedly, sidestepping under Kendall to let her rider know that she was fully aware what was going on.
Jazz let loose a longing neigh to Judge when he drew within talking distance. The colt hollered back, his voice deep and commanding despite his youth. Justin rolled his eyes and gave the colt a proper squeeze with his calves. Judge snorted but obediently moved in front of the mares. Try that with Notorious and you would be on the ground, Justin thought. The Like A Cheetah four year old was hardly chaste or discreet about his studly needs.
Ripley lifted the binoculars to her green eyes once Judge took command of the little band. The colt would give the older gals a run for their money, but today was going to be an eye opener. This would be Ro's fourth major workout and All That Jazz's final tightener. The rest was over. It was time to get the mares back on the turf where they belonged and time to prove that good days indeed were ahead of them.
Kendall stood in her stirrups when Ro eased into her graceful gallop, taking up the middle slot between Judge and Jazz. Six lengths separated them from front to back, a product of the new course. The expansive turf track emphasized stamina, the narrow run emphasized patience and well-timed moves, more European in style than American. Kendall eyeballed the rails on either side of her running mare, not totally confident in the confines yet. She saw the benefit and thought Ro and the other two were already significantly improved since this method started.
Justin leaned close to Judge's bobbing head, keeping the reins tight in his hands, not letting the horse spread himself too much yet. Maintaining the lead was less about crazy speed and more about tactics. Great front runners like Spotlight Pride and Casualty Of War were great because of their ability to dole out their speed in a measured way. Try catching Pride when he clocked a :23 and :48 half. It wouldn't happen. Judge was far more easy going than that chestnut speedball, hence why Justin was his rider instead of Reese. Judge cruised over the turf, his ears pricked ahead. He moved confidently over the trimmed grass, like he'd done it all his life instead of the last week and a half.
David crouched at All That Jazz's withers, his hands practically in his lap. Easily the burliest of the trio, Jazz was a lot to handle. She'd grown significantly in her down time, the reason why Grayson Meadows had stopped on her. While she was not a tall mare, she had grown out and had needed the time to just be a horse and get fat in a pasture. Now, dappled and muscled, she was refreshed for a bigger adventure. The plan was to get the handsome mare ready for the end of the year when the big turf distaff races became more prominent. It was a grand idea and one that David knew Ripley could put into motion. He felt so much more power in Jazz than he had when she first arrived. Felt the strength, the confidence and knew that this version of Jazz would be far different than anything she'd been at two and three.
The first three furlongs were relatively uneventful with Judge maintaining a purposeful lead. He pressed harder against the bit as they entered the turn, leaning just so slightly. He was an athletic bugger and switched leads with effortless ease. Justin grinned when the colt shot into the stretch, staying close to the rail instead of fanning wide in the face of the open expanse. It was a good thing too because suddenly they were being accosted by Summer Romance. The older mare flashed her agile speed and dared Judge to keep going. Her dainty head was at his neck before the colt could even react.
Justin flashed Judge the whip and got a response, a bigger improvement than his last few runs. No longer tiring or inexperienced, Final Judgement bounded forward along the rail, braving the claustrophobia and engaged Summer Romance in a battle. Kendall, sensing the swiftness of the run, kept her hands quiet, knowing full well that anything further would burn both horses out for their first races of the season.
All That Jazz was full of run at this point, she wanted to thunder over top of the other two. Her head was lifted high as she fought for space and a spot to run. David admired her competitiveness while he battled frustration. He knew that the point of the narrow run was supposed to encourage patience, but sometimes he just wanted to blow by the others. Finally, Judge and Ro moved over enough that Jazz could dash up on the outside. With a quick bit of reinwork and a flick of the whip, Jazz simultaneously skipped over Ro's heels and surged forward, closing with remarkable precision to make the wire dead even with the others.
The trio continued forward at a strong pace, galloping strongly until they were forced to pull up and honor the narrow rails again. Ripley waited for them to slow to controlled canters on the backstretch before she glanced at her watch. The final furlong was scintillating and encouraging. A 10 2/5 furlong was highly encouraging, no doubt the final furlong would have the trio sharp for their first runs of Year Seventeen. Although Ripley was no longer considered an underdog, these three were. Perhaps, at the end, they wouldn't be and for that, Ripley was beyond excited.
Valid Point
Valaska with Justin Santiago aboard
Wire Tap with Maggiletti Reynolds aboard
Ripley rubbed her chin in thought as she watched the gray roan filly approach from the dirt path. She was a strong looking creature with a wide chest and broad shoulder. Although her haunches weren't ripped with muscle, she gave the appearance of being athletic. And she was tall, perhaps taller than most colts her age. She certainly towered over Kismet, BBS's other Frozen Motion filly. Ripley credited the height and overt strength to Akita Rose Stable's mare, Gold Digger. This one appeared to be a distance filly even though she'd tried the mile distance quite a few times as a juvenile. She was still lightly raced and Ripley was going to use that to her advantage.
Valaska threw her head to her knees, snorting mischievously and thrashing her tail. Everything was a game to the young horse and she was as fresh as can be. With only one start since October, she was liable to be. Justin sat back in the racing saddle, taking up on the reins as he did so. The filly's dark eye flashed irritably when he threatened to cut her play short. The filly had been given freedom for far too long. It was time to learn to be a serious racehorse. She had all the makings of one; she just needed a chance to prove her case on the track.
Maggie patted Wire Tap's thick copper-brown neck and grinned when he bowed it. He was still coming off a thrilling high after knocking out his grade four victory. He was an imposing horse upon first glance. He rippled with muscle and confidence, his wall eye giving him the look of the crazed. It had taken him a while to get the hang of the racing game, mostly because he'd been growing a lot in the fall and winter. Although, he couldn't match Valaska in height, he could outweigh her. Ripley could blame his dam for that. Royal Assault had been and still was a monstrosity, outweighing her female counterparts considerably. Foolish Lad, Wire's sire, provided an unique balance to the young stud. Both parents lent him his competitive fires, giving him an edge to marry to all that height.
Ripley knew today would be a key workout going forward as both horses needed a sharpener for their next appearance. With Wire Tap coming off a long distance race, he needed to remember that speed was as important than grinding away to victory. Valaska, having finished second to Wire Tap last out, would need that very same reminder. She was currently the only long distance filly that would or could match Wire Tap from the start. If he moved, she would move. The competition had triggered Ripley's interest in the roan, enough so that a purchase had happened virtually overnight. While Ripley was unsure just who the better horse was, she knew that both horses would do each other better as stablemates than as rivals on the track.
"Just jog them once and then canter around the track. I know this isn't the preferred surface, but we need to open them up a little," she instructed as they passed. Valaska snorted and tipped her head toward Ripley, her nostrils flaring in and out as she deliberated about her new trainer. Justin crooned to the filly, rubbed his hand under her fluffy dark mane and gave her a good nudge. She responded without much attitude, better natured than she'd been since she'd arrived. Once on the track, her black rimmed ears twitched in Wire Tap's direction--well aware that he would once again be her workmate.
Wire Tap's muscles thrummed eloquently beneath his hide as he moved over the course. His confidence was eyeopening and uplifting to Maggie. She'd had to say goodbye to Vagabond after he'd moved on to his stud career, but she was certain that Wire Tap would be his replacement of sorts. The son of Foolish Lad gave her those same vibes, urging her to be patient, to let him be his own individual. He would get better as he got older, bigger, stronger, and faster. Maybe not by the time the Turf Triple Crown was being run, but someday, Wire Tap would be her next big colt.
The duo moved in tandem through their jog and lope, becoming heavier on the hands of their jockeys with each passing minute. Valaska flicked her ears impatiently, snorting and tossing her head to emphasize her mood. Justin played with the bit in her mouth, leaning backward when she lunged forward. For her size, she was quick as a cat. For her usually gentle demeanor, she was certainly tough when the time called for it.
At mid backstretch, the jocks leaned forward and chirped to their mounts, urging them to dig deep and move. Wire Tap got the first jump on Valaska, pinning his ears into his heavy black mane. The gray filly didn't let him get away with it for long, however. She rushed into stride, her legs blurring as she went from twenty to thirty eight miles per hour. Justin kept himself still and silent even when she started hounding her workmate. Her ferocity was a treasure to behold and he was certainly not going to take her best trait away from her.
Maggie could feel Wire Tap's determination when he was rushed by Valaska. She was as hard as her father had been to shake and Wire Tap had grown accustomed to her stubbornness. He responded with another gear, pulling away by only a neck before she countered and kept him honest. They flew through the first three furlongs of the workout as if they were dirt horses and not turf horses. Maggie tried to keep the colt as close to the rail as she could, but he fanned the filly wide even with her effort. She shook her head, murmuring an apology that was lost on the whipping air. It wouldn't have mattered anyway.
Buoyed by annoyance, Valaska kicked her speed up another notch and drove forward to run nose and nose with Wire Tap. Justin was amazed by her will to be put away in spite of having Wire Tap use his physicality against her. Neither horse gave an inch down the lane and neither felt the whip. Ripley hit the clock as they tore through the wire and galloped out well into the clubhouse turn. She was smiling before she even looked at the time. She fully believed that Valaska would be Frozen Motion's truest distance runner yet, just as she believed that Wire Tap was only getting better with each and every fiery experience.
Wire Tap with Maggiletti Reynolds aboard
Ripley rubbed her chin in thought as she watched the gray roan filly approach from the dirt path. She was a strong looking creature with a wide chest and broad shoulder. Although her haunches weren't ripped with muscle, she gave the appearance of being athletic. And she was tall, perhaps taller than most colts her age. She certainly towered over Kismet, BBS's other Frozen Motion filly. Ripley credited the height and overt strength to Akita Rose Stable's mare, Gold Digger. This one appeared to be a distance filly even though she'd tried the mile distance quite a few times as a juvenile. She was still lightly raced and Ripley was going to use that to her advantage.
Valaska threw her head to her knees, snorting mischievously and thrashing her tail. Everything was a game to the young horse and she was as fresh as can be. With only one start since October, she was liable to be. Justin sat back in the racing saddle, taking up on the reins as he did so. The filly's dark eye flashed irritably when he threatened to cut her play short. The filly had been given freedom for far too long. It was time to learn to be a serious racehorse. She had all the makings of one; she just needed a chance to prove her case on the track.
Maggie patted Wire Tap's thick copper-brown neck and grinned when he bowed it. He was still coming off a thrilling high after knocking out his grade four victory. He was an imposing horse upon first glance. He rippled with muscle and confidence, his wall eye giving him the look of the crazed. It had taken him a while to get the hang of the racing game, mostly because he'd been growing a lot in the fall and winter. Although, he couldn't match Valaska in height, he could outweigh her. Ripley could blame his dam for that. Royal Assault had been and still was a monstrosity, outweighing her female counterparts considerably. Foolish Lad, Wire's sire, provided an unique balance to the young stud. Both parents lent him his competitive fires, giving him an edge to marry to all that height.
Ripley knew today would be a key workout going forward as both horses needed a sharpener for their next appearance. With Wire Tap coming off a long distance race, he needed to remember that speed was as important than grinding away to victory. Valaska, having finished second to Wire Tap last out, would need that very same reminder. She was currently the only long distance filly that would or could match Wire Tap from the start. If he moved, she would move. The competition had triggered Ripley's interest in the roan, enough so that a purchase had happened virtually overnight. While Ripley was unsure just who the better horse was, she knew that both horses would do each other better as stablemates than as rivals on the track.
"Just jog them once and then canter around the track. I know this isn't the preferred surface, but we need to open them up a little," she instructed as they passed. Valaska snorted and tipped her head toward Ripley, her nostrils flaring in and out as she deliberated about her new trainer. Justin crooned to the filly, rubbed his hand under her fluffy dark mane and gave her a good nudge. She responded without much attitude, better natured than she'd been since she'd arrived. Once on the track, her black rimmed ears twitched in Wire Tap's direction--well aware that he would once again be her workmate.
Wire Tap's muscles thrummed eloquently beneath his hide as he moved over the course. His confidence was eyeopening and uplifting to Maggie. She'd had to say goodbye to Vagabond after he'd moved on to his stud career, but she was certain that Wire Tap would be his replacement of sorts. The son of Foolish Lad gave her those same vibes, urging her to be patient, to let him be his own individual. He would get better as he got older, bigger, stronger, and faster. Maybe not by the time the Turf Triple Crown was being run, but someday, Wire Tap would be her next big colt.
The duo moved in tandem through their jog and lope, becoming heavier on the hands of their jockeys with each passing minute. Valaska flicked her ears impatiently, snorting and tossing her head to emphasize her mood. Justin played with the bit in her mouth, leaning backward when she lunged forward. For her size, she was quick as a cat. For her usually gentle demeanor, she was certainly tough when the time called for it.
At mid backstretch, the jocks leaned forward and chirped to their mounts, urging them to dig deep and move. Wire Tap got the first jump on Valaska, pinning his ears into his heavy black mane. The gray filly didn't let him get away with it for long, however. She rushed into stride, her legs blurring as she went from twenty to thirty eight miles per hour. Justin kept himself still and silent even when she started hounding her workmate. Her ferocity was a treasure to behold and he was certainly not going to take her best trait away from her.
Maggie could feel Wire Tap's determination when he was rushed by Valaska. She was as hard as her father had been to shake and Wire Tap had grown accustomed to her stubbornness. He responded with another gear, pulling away by only a neck before she countered and kept him honest. They flew through the first three furlongs of the workout as if they were dirt horses and not turf horses. Maggie tried to keep the colt as close to the rail as she could, but he fanned the filly wide even with her effort. She shook her head, murmuring an apology that was lost on the whipping air. It wouldn't have mattered anyway.
Buoyed by annoyance, Valaska kicked her speed up another notch and drove forward to run nose and nose with Wire Tap. Justin was amazed by her will to be put away in spite of having Wire Tap use his physicality against her. Neither horse gave an inch down the lane and neither felt the whip. Ripley hit the clock as they tore through the wire and galloped out well into the clubhouse turn. She was smiling before she even looked at the time. She fully believed that Valaska would be Frozen Motion's truest distance runner yet, just as she believed that Wire Tap was only getting better with each and every fiery experience.