Post by *Ripley* on Jul 18, 2012 9:22:50 GMT -5
Witch Creek Stable Presents:
Ripley Marsh and Mastermind
A Workout for the Unicorn Horn Juvenile Dirt Sprint
Driving from The Wire to Green Horse Fields had taken a lot longer than Ripley had suspected it would. Her cold of course during the travel time had roared back into life. She sniffled pulled the truck to a stop in front of the stall she had rented for Mastermind for today and the day of the Unicorn Horn Juvenile Dirt Sprint. She put the thing in park and then snatched at the packet of cold pills sitting in her cup older. She downed two and shot some coffee down after them. Good God she hoped it was gone come race day. What awful pictures she would take if Mastermind should win his respective division.
She shoved off the self-conciousness and climbed out of the truck. Mastermind neighed and pawed at the trailer as she walked alongside it. His friends were all back at The Wire. He used to be friends with Indian Darling, but now Bella Luna had captured his attention. He simply couldn't be without her. Ripley shook her head, running a hand over her tired face. Mastermind's life love was the only entertainment she had. Her own love life was in the censoredter. Well unless Clint Westerly would just make the damn move. She wasn't going to make it. It was too late to change her stubborn ways.
Ripley opened the back door of the trailer and looked at Mastermind. The two year old colt looked a little fretful today. His brown eyes were big as disks. His nostrils were flared, but he still looked his usual glorious self. After two weeks of racing and workouts the colt looked absolutely fantastic. He hadn't gotten very tired after his last race. He'd lost to Apollo Bear in the Insight Stakes, but it hadn't seemed to take much out of him. In fact the next day she'd had to take him to the track to just get rid of his unruly temper.
This would be his second workout since his last race. The horse was an energizer bunny. Ripley wasn't. She untied the 16 hand horse and led him out into the evening sun. He glimmered like a copper statue when he hit the sunlight. His proud head was up and his diamond marking stood out boldly among all the red coloration. He had no other white markings. Ripley pat his neck and smiled when the colt decided he would be nice to her today.
The only reason was because she was his lone friend at Green Horse Fields. Besides Indian Darling, he was the only horse that had run at Green Horse Fields this year. The reason was because of Ripley's overwhelming confidence in the colt. The chestnut was hard for even the top class fields at GHF to handle. Mastermind was built like a champion sprinter, had the pedigree of a champion sprinter and had demonstrated so far this year that he would become a champion sprinter one way or another.
Ripley still remembered his dominating work earlier this week when he had buried another trainer's horse into the ground at the race track. There was no such thing as a bad workout for Mastermind. The colt was honestly the best work horse Ripley had ever had, even better than his dam had been. He just got things done in remarkable ways and came back without even breathing hard.
The slim woman didn't even bother leading the lean colt into his stall. He stood tied to a ring on the trailer. He wasn't a fan of stalls and their stay today would be relatively quick. He was here to work over the surface and then he would go home to Witch Creek until the morning of the race.
Ripley groomed him up quickly, wanting to get out on the track before it got crowded with evening workers. Mastermind let out a couple of whinnies to see if any of his friends were at the barn, but he was treated with a vast silence. Ripley kissed his neck then bent down to pick his hooves. He was a brilliant horse. She held him in extremely high regard. There was just something about him. He was so fantastic looking and had such a tremendous presence. It was as though he looked right through you. As if he knew of his own superiority.
She was quietly confident that the Unicorn Horn Juvenile Dirt Sprint would be counted among Witch Creek's wins when all was said and done. For Ripley there was no two year old out there that could match strides with Mastermind from six to nine furlongs. He just was way too... good. And good was an understatement.
Two rivals would run with them in the race. Both fillies by a grade one sprinter named Crying out Loud. Tears Of An Angel from Victory Gallop Stable and Sophie's Voice from Silver Stride Stables. Like Mastermind, both of them had broken their maidens first time out. Tears of Angel had run third in the Windchime Cup and Mastermind had run second to older horses in the Insight Stakes. Sophie's Voice hadn't run her second race. All three had similar records, but to Ripley, Mastermind was going to be a heavy favorite against these two. It was his race to lose. She wasn't being arrogant either. She had never had a horse so clearly fantastic at such a young age before.
Ripley tacked the chestnut colt up and put on her own equipment, helmet, chaps and gloves. Mastermind looked real nice in tack. She patted his neck and he returned to being his usual annoyed self, snaking her hand away with mean eyes and flat ears. Ripley raised her eyebrows at him as she always did and mounted the colt. The two year old moved off, his long stride sweeping over the ground. He turned heads as he walked by other barns and grooms. His coat burned red, gold dapples covering his rump.
If she didn't know about his bratty attitude back at the barn, Ripley was positive she would give him the awed looks that he received from fans. But because she did know that his ego was expanding greatly, Ripley hurried him along to the track. He shook his head as if he were annoyed with her.
The track spanned out before them in a matter of seconds. Mastermind strode forward at a faster pace, taking in its great expanse. He hardly noticed the small crowd of people following them to the track or that attention turned his way as soon as he set hoof on the dirt. Ripley tried to concentrate really hard on the task at hand. She had a job to do. To prepare him for the sprint.
Ripley asked him for his usual smooth trot and he motored around on the outside rail. He really loved it at Green Horse Fields. He behaved differently as if he could sense the prestige and pride that filled up the grand stands, swelled over the race tracks. It gave Ripley chills to think that he belonged here as much as Speed Demon, El Sol del Mar, Flying Colours, Impressario, Dash Of Sugar, and Bank on Silver had. The greats of Green Horse Fields. How could a two year old fit in while only just making his third start of his career?
Ripley pulled herself together against the ghosts of the past and looked down at her very much alive colt. Mastermind moved easily over the ground, waving his tail after him like a cape.
His style wouldn't change in the Juvenile Dirt Sprint. He was a stalker. He wouldn't be on the lead. She picture Sophie's Voice on the lead for the most part with Tears of Angel pressing. Mastermind knew how to relax. He bided his time. Then like he had in the earlier week's work, he would draw up alongside the pair of fillies. Rest through the turn while keeping even with them and then burst away. Whether or not they would be able to keep up was a different story.
The pair made it around the entire track just in time for more horses and riders to come out. They stood around waiting for orders and trying to appear as if they were casually watching Mastermind, not gawking at him.
Ripley leaned close to him in the homestretch and asked for his gallop. He lifted into it so smoothly it nearly broke her heart. He just did a lot of things right. Mastermind cruised into the first turn, leaning a little to keep himself from going wide. His mane whipped back and touched Ripley's face, not very lovingly, but it definitely woke her up if she could have managed tiredness at a time like this. He leveled out nice at this even pace, content to do nothing but stretch his legs. He strode purposefully down the backstretch, head held high. His ears focused on Ripley's command. To keep him on his toes, Ripley twitched the rein to make him move to the right off of the rail and into the three path. It wasn't certain to Ripley if was going to come up the rail or go around the fillies during the running of the race. She wouldn't know until she was riding him that day.
The small woman guided Mastermind back to the rail and he flattened his ears. He wanted to go was what that meant. Ripley wanted to let him run, but she wanted another half mile before she did so. He continued on his way, ears flat, mouth chomping on the bit, while keeping the same high cruising gallop he'd carried all along. She flexed her fingers on reins, smirked when his ears pricked up only to go flat to his head again. She was just messing with him this time. He knew it too.
Around the first turn they went again and Mastermind was beginning to pull now. Ripley squeezed tighter and leaned a little back. It was only going to be a five furlong drill. Real sweet and quick with something left in the tank for the race. The lithe chestnut snorted, lashed his tail at Ripley's jean covered leg and pulled harder. Ripley checked him down, shhing at the big horse.
Finally the reached the middle of the backstretch. Ripley let him out and he burst forward. She had long since been prepared for the huge burst of speed and moved as one with the bright colt. The two year old swept over the ground with his stride, ears flat to his head. He made a picture of light and ferocity amid the evening lighting. Mastermind was doing this work effortlessly and even though he was flying right now, Ripley knew if she asked for more he would give her more. The speed he had at the moment was his natural cruising energy. It was what made him so intense as a runner. There was always something to spare.
The woman just sat on his short back as he cranked himself around the far turn to come bounding energetically down the home stretch. She didn't move a muscle on him. He finished the workout all by himself without any encouragement. She tapped the stopwatch she'd had hidden in her hand and looked satisfied when she saw the time of 1:01 flat. Not fast enough to destroy the colt for the Unicorn Horn Juvenile Dirt Sprint. Fast enough to get his attention.
The clockers and the fans didn't care that the time was a lot slower than his :56 the other time he'd worked at Green Horse Fields. They'd swear they'd never seen a more dominating workout. The time would argue otherwise. But they knew what they saw. Ripley knew what she felt. A powerful horse sitting on a big run.