Post by *Ripley* on Apr 23, 2015 9:43:13 GMT -5
Heart Breaker
featuring: Vagabond & The Devil's Hourglass
mission: Belmont Turf Classic
Lacking a win in the Turf Triple Crown for the first time since Year Twelve, Ripley Marsh was not getting bent out of shape. The news media was leaving her alone for a change, much like they had last year prior to the Belmont Turf Classic. Her name had been listed last year next to her filly's and she had been considered a future historical footnote. But that had not been the case and instead of publishing "Dare To Impress Notches The Turf Triple Crown," the news media had published "Hourglass Denies A Consecutive Turf Triple Crown Bid."
It had been one of the single most exciting moment of Ripley's riding career. A filly she had ridden to nine gutsy, beyond impressive victories at the age of two had become the spoiler at three. That was why you never forgot the champions. They had an unhealthy habit of coming back and biting you in butt.
Witch Creek's Bella Luna had remained the only filly or horse to win the Turf Triple Crown for another year.
Pandora, another daughter of Impressario, was on the brink again. If she was going to win she had to beat the acid test of Take Flight, whom once upon a time had been considered to be the favorite to wear the crown. She'd won desperately in the Preakness Champion Stakes over Take Flight and a closing Vagabond. It gave Ripley hope that her stamina-laden Vagabond had a chance.
Few would contest that the powerful bay colt had never looked any better. And Ripley had been pointing the Winged Heir colt all along to the twelve furlong test.
If Pandora was going to beat them, she would have to wear her heart on her hooves and her courage in her eyes.
Ripley put down the racing sheets and stepped from the stall, eyes sweeping down the rows to wear Vagabond waited. He was a towering type of colt, muscular and powerful. He was strength personified. His dark eyes peered out of the black and teal blinkers at his surroundings. The row was quiet, all of the press removed to where Stride Of Perfection's hopeful rested. They could bother the princess and Ripley would take the quiet for once.
Brooks boosted Maggie into the saddle, looking relaxed for once. Parenthood had taken a toll on both Brooks and Ripley for the first couple months, but they'd learned quickly to ask for help. Mal, Adele and Susie had been the reason for Ripley keeping her sanity. She owed the trio more than just a bottle of wine.
"He looks terrific, Maggie," Ripley said as she took a hold of the reins. Bond nuzzled her lightly on the shoulder, cooperating as she guided him down the row. The powerful colt greeted The Devil's Hourglass with a longing nicker.
The tough tomboy mare gave him a glare for his romantic gesture.
Justin chuckled at her, patting her thick neck. Soon Hourglass would be heading off into the bittersweet sunset of retirement. What more did she have to prove in her waning racing days? She had just two more races left to reassert herself and go off with some well-deserved fanfare. She had been the epitome of what a true Witch Creek homebred should look like. She'd set the bar high and given her all.
Ripley stroked the mare's forehead, cocking her eyebrow when Brooks called to her. She rolled her eyes at the sight of the camera in his hand. "You'll want this for later."
She smiled into the lens, holding onto each horses' bridle. The horses cooperated, each looking straight at the camera, ears pricked. Brooks smiled. A more perfect picture there would never be.
"So what's the plan, Marsh?" Justin asked as the horses walked toward the track.
"Take them four furlongs in around :48. Keep Vagabond about three lengths back and ask him to run down the stretch. He likes this springy turf so this is just what he'll need to be sharp for the race. Can't put anymore possible bottom into him.
"The good thing about these two is they can run for days. They sniff at eleven and twelve furlongs. Don't press Hourglass if he passes her. If she keeps up with him willingly, we know we've got a runner for the Manhattan Stakes at Battlestone. I look forward to that race immensely."
The horses stepped onto the track, ears pricked and eyes widening at the amount of people on the rails. Hourglass snorted, tail swishing in irritation. She remembered the pomp from last year and wasn't impressed. She strolled right on by Vagabond who took a moment to stop and smell the roses. His head turned slowly from one direction to the other, calmly assessing the situation before proceeding. Ripley shook her head at the colt's thoughtful nature, but knew he would be focused on his work after the brief pause.
Vagabond jogged down the stretch along the rail, neck bowed and mouth playing with the bit. The colt was on the muscle this morning and his classic physique drew eyes. Maggie was proud of this particular animal, knew he had exactly what it took to win the Belmont Turf Classic. She wanted to be in that winner's circle and face the people who doubted her horse.
Hourglass tossed her head, more of a handful for Justin. Her muscles were tense as she realized that this morning she would work out. She was unused to working over a flat track. When given the chance, the dark mare relished it and it seemed to cause her confidence to increase tenfold. He patted the mare's neck, pointed her through the gap and let her move into her gallop.
She exploded from a stand still, legs sweeping impressively over the grass. He held tight, expecting this reaction from the powder keg. She was a tough runner, but if you took a couple deep breaths and relaxed so would she. He talked to her, easing her down toward the rail to begin the workout. He peeked under his shoulder, noting that Vagabond was already settling into stride.
Bond would never be the impressive workhorse that The Devil's Hourglass could be. She always looked so full of run and so powerful. Bond was more of an easy going runner, his big strides huge and floating. He never seemed to exude hard trying energy when he ran. Maggie let the big horse skip over the track, kept him at a steady pace through the first furlong. "Good boy."
Hourglass set a swift pace, but she was well within herself by the second furlong. Justin sat confidently aboard the ferocious runner, knowing she would fight to get into the Manhattan Stakes. He kept his hands light as she swapped leads through the turn, ears pinning as she gained momentum. His mare was no slouch and Vagabond would get the perfect set up. Still quiet, Justin listened for the hooded colt.
Bond wheeled out in the center of the track off the turn, strides lengthening impressively when hustled. Maggie went still when the bay colt caught up to the mare in a matter of seconds. He'd swallowed the separating distance and was at her throat-latch. Maggie was utterly impressed by what she felt beneath her. Was this colt really doing this so easily?
Ripley wanted to swear when the media began to buzz 300 yards out from the wire. The Devil's Hourglass and Vagabond soared through the wire, both under wraps and going at an impressive clip. It had been quite obvious that neither runner had been tested and that both were doing very well.
The gallop out was a terrific 1:01 around the dogs on the clubhouse turn. Before Ripley could blink, several reporters had already located her. She aimed irritated looks in their direction causing one to pause. Brooks appeared at her side, nodding to the horses. "That was impressive. I think they're more than ready for this week."