Post by *Ripley* on Jan 14, 2013 12:56:47 GMT -5
Ashes to Ashes& Wish Upon A Star. Mastermind& Red Herring.
Screaming Mimi& Dazzling Dame. Cross My Heart& GS Royal Crown.
Bella Luna& Frozen Motion. Fiery Touch& Jabberwock.
Ripley and her team grinned as they stepped out of the truck and into the sweeping set of barns Witch Creek had rented. The Breeders Cup was finally here in December Week Three. Well almost. The races wouldn't be for another week and until then Witch Creek's stock would be settling in and working out over the track. They wouldn't see home until three days after the races. Neither would Ripley, Maggie, Justin or Reese. Brooks would be back and forth checking on his brother, Clint, and Justin's brother, Connor's work at the barn. With plans on overseeing the final gallops for Indian Darling who was getting ready for her final start as a two year old in the Noella Derby.
Ripley would meet up with Brooks at The Wire the day that Darla ran, but she wouldn't be home. The Breeders Cup was her time to shine and to show the racing world that Battle Brook, now in the form of Witch Creek, was ready to once again stake a claim in the big leagues. The culmination of Year Twelve was very exciting. And especially now because she had a bigger crowd with her this time.
Her cat green eyes swiveled to look over her group. Not too shabby. They'd done amazing for just getting into Witch Creek and everyone had worked together nicely. She patted Brooks' hand as the horses in the trailer whinnied for attention and out. The trailers were gigantic, enormous and gorgeous. The pair of silver monsters graced the backstretch with nearly as much grandeur as the prizes being held within. Alright, try your best to keep them calm guys. They haven't raced for two weeks and will be on their toes. Watch the reporters.
Reese and Maggie went to the first trailer. Justin and Brooks to the second. Ripley pulled out the piece of paper from her jacket pocket. The piece of paper held the names and positions of each horse within the trailers. Six a piece. While Witch Creek was not the biggest barn that was going to attend the Breeders Cup, it held the most active runners and horses capable of winning the races. They were also the first major barn to arrive for Breeders Cup week. Reporters milled around everywhere and everything had to go smoothly.
Alright Reese's trailer: First out will be Cross. Keep her calm and put her in the stall next to what will be our office stall. Brooks' trailer will have Ashes to Ashes first out. He should be fine. Ripley briefly pocketed the paper, already knowing which horses were next on the list. She was concerned about Cross. The filly had a tendency to get when crowded. However, Ripley needn't have gotten concerned. The former kill auction filly stepped out of the trailer like a pro, bringing with her clicks of a camera. She looked beautiful and ready to go, even going so far as to rear up and give the cameras a good shot or two. Ripley grimaced, nodded for Reese to put her in the stall and kept an eye on the black filly until the stall door was firmly shut.
Ashes to Ashes powered off the trailer looking glorious as ever. A few oohs were drawn from the crowd as the soon to be four year old bowed his neck and flashed his more mature muscle. Ripley pursed her lips, eyes glimmering when he paused to take on the cameras. All stud. Brooks swiftly broke his gaze and lead him into the stall he was facing.
Next in Reese's trailer: Bella Luna. Brooks' trailer has Fiery Touch. Watch Fie please! Ripley nearly winced when Brooks was dragged from the trailer by Fie. The light bay filly was exploding with energy from her recent campaigns. Racing didn't tire her out at all. Brooks shook the chain on the filly's nose and did not allow for Fie to entertain similar poses. She pranced her way into the stall, taking up beside Ashes. Her blazed face poked out, ears forward and she finally was able to be captured on camera.
Always the pro, Bella daintily stepped from the trailer, eyes bright and happy. Her silver-white form looked incredible and she was easily the calmest of the crew. She plodded into the beside Cross and settled down with a soft pat from Reese, her beloved jock. Mastermind in Reese's trailer. Frozen Motion in Brooks'.
Freeze, the gallant iron horse of Witch Creek, stepped from the trailer. He was long used to the attention being placed upon him and kept a noble tune throughout the process of unloading. He was as cool as a cucumber and accepted the pats from Brooks like the champ he was. Mastermind on the other end practically barreled Maggie over getting out of the trailer. He was worked up and irritable, eyes blazing. Maggie faltered, tripping, letting go of the lead. Mastermind nearly bolted, but caught sight of Ripley and stopped dead in his tracks, eyes uncertain for the first time. Ripley shook her head, opened the stall beside Bella Luna and whistled. Begrudingly, her partner in crime, gave up on being chased and walked like a pouting child into his stall. However, he was polite enough to allow her to take the halter and chain off. Ripley patted his beautiful chestnut rump as he passed into the stall.
Red Herring, Dazzling Dame. While Mastermind lost his cool, Red Herring stood at the end of the same trailer, glaring down his subjects. His muscles gleamed in the sunlight beneath a bright copper hide. His blazed face turned to face down the individuals in the crowd, ears pricked. Maggie tugged lightly on the halter and he precisely marched off the trailer, ignoring the reporters until he was promptly in the stall. Dame on the other hand, pranced like a little charger into hers, her mahogany body drawing attention. The grade three filly looked about as good as it got and the reporters couldn't wait to see her on the track.
GS Royal Crown, Wish Upon A Star. Ripley called out, more for the reporters sake than for her stable hands. She didn't want the reporters naming the wrong horses. Shaking her auburn waves, Ripley watched as Wish moved down the ramp like a queen. The beautiful bay filly drew a lot of looks and had so far not matched up to them quite as well as she should have. Her form was rounding out beautifully and she was sitting on a big race and possibly a big year come Year Thirteen. She caused no trouble and was lead right into the stall.
Crow, however, stood with his gaze and ears locked on the reporters. His white splashed face looked uncertain and he whinnied anxiously. He was not crazy about the whole trailering process and to find an audience when he was to come out was giving him quite the complex. Ripley waved her hands for the reporters to be quiet and glared when they still didn't. Crow danced in the trailer, tossing his head. A loud scream from the horse inside the trailer echoed out and it was only then that the crowd quieted. Brooks laughed when Crow finally stepped out. Guess Mims is in charge no matter where or who is around. Ripley laughed while keeping a keen eye on her more nervous two year old.
She didn't call out the names of the last horses. There was no need to. The reporters were familiar with Screaming Mimi, grade one winner and the she-devil herself. The black filly with the blatant white star on her forehead stepped out of the trailer like the queen she was and firmly demanded respect with a quick neigh. The horses in the stalls called back as their lady was lead from her trailer and into her stall. On her game and in charge were two phrases that defined Screaming Mimi's current form.
Maggie and Reese closed up the first trailer while Jabberwock stepped from his, lead by Justin Santiago. Ripley made the boy pause briefly, looking at the three year old colt's legs. The bay stood with his head high and nostrils flared wide. His lean body took up plenty of space and he towered over both Ripley and Justin. This colt had lost his first race and then come back roaring to beat a field of two and then a field of six. Three starts was all he had to his name, but he'd been dominating in his two victories. Jabber played with the chain when Reese stepped up to stroke his face. He was a solid colt. Fantastic. Reese had been right and Ripley, for once, was quite pleased that she was.
A reporter called out, The Breeders Cup doesn't want three year olds with only three starts to their name running! Ripley looked up. Oh don't worry. This pristine animal is too good for the Breeders Cup to handle anyway. Just wait until Year Thirteen boys. She paused briefly, signaling for Reese to lead the colt into the final open stall. That's our Classic contender for next year. Leaving the reporters buzzing, Ripley promptly turned away and headed to the office. It was time to set up the workout schedule.