witch invasion

[Ripley]

Witch Creek Stable Present:
Ripley Marsh and Brookson Wells
Bella Luna, Mastermind, Frozen Motion, & Indian Darling.

Brooks opened the gates into the backstretch of The Wire slowly. The 6 ft blonde was uneasy about being here. He'd never come to the Wire before. It had been mostly Green Horse Fields for so long. Green Horse Fields was tradition and prestige. It was the best of the best. Brooks knew trainers came to The Wire to get their horses started up in racing in order to prepare them for the races at Green Horse Fields. He'd expected a second rate track. What he saw before his jean colored eyes was a grand place with restaurants and manicured lawns. Shrubbery and flowers. Well managed paths and an expansive set up of barns. It was quieter than Green Horse Fields, but it looked just as pristine.

He put a hand on his hip as he gazed off in the direction of the track. From here he could see sparkling silver railings and tractors grooming the dirt surface. Brooks tried not to be impressed with Ripley's description. The woman had been spot on. The place was stunning. He shook his head, sending an apology to no one in particular.

"Are you going to stand there all day Brookson Wells or am I going to have to run you over?" Brooks looked up with a smirk on his face. Ripley's voice was tinged with impatience. The cat-eyed woman sure was pretty, but Clint had already staked his claim there. Brooks dismissed the fact that she was 9 years his senior. He leaped back into the comfortably warm truck and Ripley drove it forward with experienced ease. "Clint wanted to come today Ripley. He just got caught back at the construction site. He likes to be in control of everything."

Ripley shrugged. "It doesn't matter to me." Brooks knew girls well enough because of his three sisters and mother. Her silence clearly meant that Clint not coming mattered. Ripley nodded at the barns. "So... What do you think of this place? Still believe that Green Horse Fields is the end all be all of horse racing?" Brooks shrugged in return. "Ripley, we both know we love that place. You have history there and I want to make history there. It's the Triple Crown and the Breeder's Cup. This is the Canadian Triple Crown." Brooks sighed. "I'll give it a chance because honestly , you are the one trainer that I have met who prefers this place to Green Horse Fields."

"I don't prefer it. But I have a spotlight back at Green Horse Fields. There isn't a spotlight here. Mastermind running at Green Horse Fields was a huge thing. The first son of El Sol del Mar and Ripley Marsh training him. I gave it to the public. Mastermind will become the public's horse more than my horse. Even if he can't win the Triple Crown because of distance limitations."

Brooks nodded. Completely understanding Ripley's viewpoint. They would work well together because they harbored the same opinions and work ethic. They both valued the horses over themselves. "So what's the plan today Marsh?"

The woman laughed at his use of her last name. "Let's get the boys and girls off the trailer first."

At a barn that Ripley had saved for her string of five horses, Ripley pulled the truck to a stop and jumped out of the car. Brooks watched her in amazement. The woman moved too fast for her own good. By the time he was outside the truck, Ripley had cranked the back door of the trailer opened.

The auburn haired woman whispered softly to the anxious horse at the front of the trailer. Ripley had wanted to come early before any loud noises decided to pop up and scare the filly before her. Bella Luna, her most recently acquired horse, stood gleaming silver-white before Ripley. She was technically a gray, but she sure looked white. There was a light change in color on her face that suggested a blaze. "Hey there Beautiful Moon. Ready to leave this shin dig?" Ripley untied the filly from the trailer and motioned for Brooks to take her. "Easy there girl."

Brooks took the lead rope and politely asked her to jump from the trailer. She jumped it like it was a two foot oxer and nearly pulled Brooks off his feet. Ripley, knocked backward by the filly's action into Frozen Motion's lovely gray rear, took the ungraceful moment to admire the stunning filly in action. Bella Luna didn't look muscled until she moved. She practically pulled Brooks every where, as though it were her idea to walk where she pleased. She carried her head high and her tail swung saucily over her rear. "Boy I love this filly, Ripley. She's something. Ever since she got to Witch Creek she sure has picked up a nice attitude."

Ripley laughed as she lead Freeze down from the trailer. He professionally stepped down and snorted. Clearly wondering why Lulu had made such a show out of stepping from the trailer. Ripley slapped the darker dappled colt on the shoulder good-naturedly. She'd finally gotten some sleep last night. "We'll ride Lulu first Brooks. Or you'll ride her first. She's got a lot of energy and I want her out when the track's pretty quiet." Ripley shut the stall door behind Frozen Motion and walked with Brooks back to the trailer.

"I bet you she's got a world of speed Marsh. She might not look it when she's just standing around, but when she's pulling me around at the walk and carries herself just so... Lulu and Mastermind have the same look."

Ripley patted Indian Darling's muscled neck. The filly's plain head was twisted around nervously to eyeball Brooks. The filly didn't seem to like men. "It's the look of eagles, Brook. Sunny had it and so did The Devil on certain occasions. I'll take Darla. She just can't seem to get used to men unless they're holding her still in the gate."

Ripley crooned to nervous bay. Darla stopped at the end of the trailer, tilting her delicate head to look about. She let out a relaxed breath when she saw the place. Darla loved The Wire. She was a bundle of nerves at GHF. "How'd she go for you Brooks when you raced at Green Horse Fields?"

Brooks leaned back against the trailer door to watch the light bay filly. "She was nervous, Ripley. She was basically washed out before we even hit the track. And then she just wanted to gun it. Honestly I was surprised she placed sixth. You saw the race, this filly wants no part of the front end. I know it wasn't the blinkers that caused her to duel up front. She just was fleeing the fear she'd built herself up to before the race. During the gate she was dancing. And then out of it. Ripley this filly can fly. She's got an untamed speed. But we need to work on getting her relaxed."

Ripley nodded and patted Brook's shoulder. "Exactly my thoughts. Exactly my plan." Ripley stepped back into the trailer and crooned to the nickering yearling before her. "Hey little Hourglass." She pushed back the filly's thick black forelock and kissed the white star amid all the dark hair. The filly's eye rimmed briefly with white and she danced happily alongside Ripley as they slipped off the trailer. "Brooks go ahead and snag Mastermind for me."

Ripley led the near black filly into the stall beside Indian Darling's. She whinnied balefully when Ripley left her in the stall. "Oh don't you worry pretty Hourglass. I'll be back for you." Ripley stroked her face once more before turning her attention to the lean chestnut colt stepping off the trailer. He gleamed in the pale light like a copper coin. Dapples spread over his haunches, pale flecks. He tossed his head and dragged Brooks in a circle, his knees lifting in a prance. Ripley was always shocked to see Mastermind. He was a beautiful horse. Most thoroughbreds were beautiful, but most didn't have the look that this one had.

He wasn't nervous. He was dominating. And while playful, he still had the tendency to look mature. His eyes were fierce, but he wasn't unless he had been in his stall for too long. "What a well built colt." Ripley bent over beside him while Brooks stilled Mastermind. She took the wraps off his legs. "I want you to take Lulu out right now Brooks. Gallop her a mile and a half. One furlong sprint at the end to see how much endurance work we have to do."

Brooks gave an excited assent. Ripley continued, "I'll take Mastermind out after her. Then you'll take Frozen Motion. Two miles with Freeze and a two furlong sprint at the end." Ripley helped Brooks urge Mastermind into a stall. The big colt didn't really like them all too much. "You and Darla have to become partners. I want a mile and a half gallop for her. Don't do any fast work today. Let me know how she does."

Ripley went into Lulu's stall to take off her wraps. "Come back and help me tack up Hourglass. I'm going to ride her a few times around the track." Brooks sent a look Ripley's way, filled with sudden anticipation. Ripley had been wanting to get the yearling started forever, but had waited for the right time. Ripley was too busy to notice the look, but her veins were singing with the same anticipation.

[Ripley]

Witch Creek Stable Presents:
Brookson Wells and Bella Luna

Brooks watched Ripley move to Mastermind's stall before he looked toward Bella Luna. The gray filly was focused on the surroundings outside of her stall. She had such a queenly attitude about her and Brooks had to admit that it suited. She was decent looking condition wise. Ripley had said that the filly was galloped constantly before she came to Witch Creek, but Brooks wasn't so sure. Sometimes the filly just appeared too delicate based on her looks. For a second, the silver-white filly turned her eyes on Brooks, a challenge gleaming in her eyes. Brooks flinched and wondered if all females could hear minds, even if they were another species.

Brooks raised his hands up in self-defense before him. "Alright little Lulu I didn't mean it. I promise. I'm sure you're a heavy weight champ beneath that pretty hide of yours." The filly snorted and looked away. Brooks smirked clearly hearing the eff you coming out of the filly's mouth. Women and fillies seemed to be very much alike. Brooks went up to the stall and stroked her face. Sucking up as if the horse was actually human. She trembled when his hands neared her head. Brooks raised a carefully sculpted eyebrow and withdrew his hand. Was she head-shy? He snagged a grooming bucket and looked at the ear stuffies. Those might be harder to get in on first thought.

The filly paced a nervous circle when Brooks invaded the stall. She flattened her ears and flashed him a look that said she was still pissed about his earlier thoughts. "Easy there pretty lady. I know you take after Mastermind in your personal hatred against stalls. This is only for a little while." Brooks was able to get the cross ties on the rope halter, but he again noticed that Lulu wasn't keen on having her head touched. The man rubbed her glimmering body gently with the brushes, knocking off what little dirt there was on her to the stall floor. She didn't dance about like one would have expected of her. She was a fluidly nervous horse, but she understood grooming and crossties. She leaned into the brushes and sighed as though she was being massaged.

Brooks found her to be pretty easy to manipulate. She tossed her head to show that she was a little tense, but beside that she was gentle when she lifted her hooves to be picked and when he had to clean her tail. He braided it up out of the way so she could run without it smacking her. He had tried to think of every possible thing that could bother the filly when Ripley had first told him he would be Lulu's normal rider.

When he turned to go retrieve the tack he found the filly facing him, her pink tongue lolling out of her mouth. Her eyes gleamed playfully. Brooks wanted to laugh hysterically at her expression, but with Lulu's noble nature he bet it would hurt her soft feelings. She nodded her head up and down, the tongue flopping carelessly outside her mouth. Brooks finally let out a small chuckle and reached forward to grab her tongue. The filly instantly drew it inside her mouth and whinnied. Brooks clapped his hands over his ears at the shrill sound. "Is that like crying rape!?" He glared at the mare, but she butted her head forward to nuzzle his shirt,

A contradictory female. What else was new?

Brooks tacked the filly up and wondered over her being head shy. When he placed the bridle on. She didn't care. He even managed to push the ear stuffies in and still no reaction. He pushed it off as a weird fluke. Wondered if she had something up with her nervous system. He would pose the question later to Ripley. Bella Luna looked just dandy in tack that was for sure. With the martingale parting her chest in half, Lulu looked formidable and you could actually see some muscles on her. She looked stunning in bridle and saddle. Brooks stroked the filly's warm neck. "Good girl Lulu."

The blonde man put on his helmet and half chaps then proceeded to lead the filly out of the stall. Ripley paused in grooming the big chestnut to look at Bella Luna. "She looks like she'll be a good ride." Brooks nodded and pet the filly's sleek shoulder. "She does."

He lead the filly over to a plastic blue mounting block, steadying her when she threatened to dance about. He easily swung up onto her back and landed with grace into the light racing saddle. The silver filly stood still for him now, her ears cocking back and forth as more activity threatened around them. Brooks seeing this, urged the filly into a forceful walk back to the enormous turf track. She was always turning her head and nickering if a horse passed by. Colts and geldings seemed to respond more to her musical calls. She bowed her neck and picked up a prance. Every inch the prince's white charger.

"You're a flirt little lady." Brooks slapped her neck and smiled. When you sat on the filly you noticed that she was a lot bigger than first suspected from the ground. Ripley and Brooks had measured her when she'd arrived. 15.3 hands. They'd hardly believed it themselves. She was a beautiful thing. Her muscles were interwoven so carefully to make a person think she were docile and breakable. The horse beneath him acted more the part of a war horse than a china horse.

When they reached the track, Lulu jolted to a complete stop nearly tossing Brooks over her head. Her ears went straight up to watch the sole horse gallop across the turf. She let out a long whinny and waited to hear a reply. All she got was the snorts of the runner. Brooks watched the filly. She wasn't terrified of the track. A pack of birds flew up from the middle of the field and she just watched as though mezmerized. A tractor backfired and she leapt five feet in the air. Brooks glared at the tractor angrily. God knew why backfiring tractors were so common at racetracks with flighty race horses.

He calmed the filly down, but she was already sheened with a light layer of sweat. When she got nervous, she got nervous quick. Brooks urged her forward. She trotted, but angled her body so she could get a good look at the machine. Once past, Brooks was able to focus her on the turf track. She had a lovely gait that was for sure. It felt sort of between the fluid striding of Mastermind and the floating of Indian Darling's. As long as she didn't have Frozen Motion's canter, Brooks believed they would get along just fine.

Lulu carried her head level with her neck, almost giving the image of those subdued western horses. She seemed to stride out better this way and to Brooks it felt like they were really cruising over the track. She was constantly blowing and sniffing. A snort would escape a time or two. Her eyes rolled once when she caught a smell she wasn't particularly fond of. Brooks talked to her and petted her neck. She relaxed under him. Two circuits around the track at a jog and Brooks felt that she was ready.

He urged her into a canter/gallop. The filly easily obliged, keeping her head at the same position. He was surprised to find that the filly had a rocking horse canter. He let it lull him for a while and then asked for more speed. She was still softmouthed and allowed herself to be guided down into the rail path. Brooks couldn't find a chink in her armor. She was really trying to listen. Her ears were pinned back to listen to him. Brooks smiled and gave her a pat. They dipped forward briefly glad of the praise and then immediately returned to listen some more.

Brooks leaned closer as they cruised over the track. He admired the filly's gleaming coat in the sunlight as they bounded over the firm turf. She pushed off with her hind end and remained focused on the task at hand. She maintained a straight path and did not seem inclined to going wide on the turns. She lifted her head once to snort and doused him in snot. Brooks grinned and wiped his face off with one hand, confident that the filly wasn't about to take off. Urging her still more, Brooks was stunned to find she knew her gears well. She gave him the speed he wanted. A really push button runner was hard to find. But here it was right under him. The mile and a half seemed to go a lot faster than he'd expected.

Brooks leaned forward suddenly, whispering nonsense to the filly whom would only hear a muffled voice speaking to him. "Alright little lady. Show me that there's some talent beneath that princess hide of yours." Brooks booted her forward, shaking his hands at her. It took her a second to realize what he wanted. Then suddenly she'd wrapped her teeth around the bit and pulled down. Brooks barely hung on as she drew him down her neck.

She lifted her head and yanked some more, but Brooks had control now. "Let's go Lulu!" he shouted. She slammed her ears into white mane and launched herself forward. He nearly was slammed back by the force of her leap. She galloped wildly through the first furlong. Brooks let her go, but still was sure to keep the bit in his hands. So she liked to run? That was fine and dandy. She liked to run when asked, well... that was even better.

The filly charged by the rail panels, her mane flowing back like white flame. She pricked her ears as a horse appeared to run beside her, but listened to Brooks to see what he wanted from her. He sat still, the horse went by, and the filly just was silent as can be. She acted like a pro. Brooks eased her down after the two furlongs and slapped her neck. She was a good one. He'd found himself a willing partner. One with a brilliant turn of foot and a willingness to shut down when asked. To say he was impressed was an understatement. To say she didn't have any chance in beating horses in her first start was a falsity. She had the secret weapon that most maiden two year olds didn't have: the ability to remain calm under pressure.

[Ripley]

Witch Creek Stable Presents:
Ripley Marsh and Mastermind

Ripely and Mastermind stood patiently on the sidelines of the racetrack. Well Ripley sat patiently, Mastermind constantly was dancing about beneath her and gathering as much attention as possible. The colt was a powerhouse this morning. Already grabbing at the bit when they were just walking over to the track. His neck had been bowed gracefully and his knees had lifted as though he were a true parade horse and not a race horse. Ripley looked down along the rail. She'd sent Brooks and Lulu out just in time. They were coming down the track in the two furlong sprint that she had ordered. At the gaps were ten horses and riders waiting to come out. Ripley stroked Mastermind's neck. The colt wasn't like Lulu. Mastermind loved attention and crowds.

Ripley focused on Lulu now, content that Mastermind would not be going anywhere anytime soon. The filly was really cruising in the final turn. Brooks was hardly moving. Ripley held her breath as the silver-white filly reached a horse on the turn. A competitor might cause her to speed up and do too much too soon. A pleased laugh came out of her mouth when Lulu stayed calm and well in Brooks' control. He pushed her onward, letting her cruise under her own speed and will. Ripley was surprised when the filly came right back to Brooks from her speedy run and settled into a graceful trot. Ripley could see Brooks' grin from a mile away. She had to return it.

The boy drew closer and Ripley took a good long look at the filly beneath him. Boy her muscles were on display at the moment right now. Her body was sweating and she was gleaming. She walked with her head level to her shoulders and was striding out really well. Even with her efforts to remain hidden, Ripley realized that the filly was drawing plenty of attention. A man gasped when she walked by and Lulu turned as if she heard him and looked right through him. She flicked an ear and passed on, nickering to Mastermind, whom neighed in return.

Ripley patted the colt's shoulder and nodded at Brooks. "She looks like she went well for you Brooks." Brooks nodded and petted Lulu's soaked neck. "Well doesn't even cover it. Ripley she was in my hand the entire time. I've never met a thoroughbred race horse who was in hand every second of the ride." Ripley shook her head. "Wait until race day. Then we'll see how soft she is then."

"I'm positive this is a brilliant filly beneath me, Ripley. She's just something. I tapped into some speed and it was fantastic. We really won't know what we have until she races. You're right about that." Ripley nodded and looked away. Brooks frowned at her, lifted a hand to his face and moved on. Why Ripley seemed to only love the filly when someone wasn't riding her, Brooks wasn't sure. He was positive the filly was nearly as good as Mastermind. Mastermind was the one horse Ripley truly regarded at the moment as great.

The auburn haired woman urged Mastermind to move out on the track. Her green eyes sweeping over the track's massive entirety. The chestnut colt strode out, his long legs eating up the loamy dirt at the swift trot. His brilliant red mane and tail gleamed like rubies in the sun. Ripley felt a flashback jolt through her head of a similar occurrence a couple of years before with the colt's dam. Mastermind looked the same, acted the same at moments, but he was a far different horse. He had the same unworldly speed, but he used it differently.

He'd broken his maiden his first time out. And then Ripley had thrown him against older competition in the Indiana Stakes. He'd held his own, but Brookson had made his move too late. Mastermind missed the wire by a half length to Apollo Bear, an Akita Rose Stable three year old. Ripley was really proud of the chestnut colt. Right now he was her main hope to bring the stable back to prominence. Freeze seemed to be getting better with each of his races. She knew he would. The gray horse would do well as the year progressed.

Ripley urged Mastermind into a lope along the rail. The colt swung easily into stride, right ear pinned on the grand stand as people moved closer to get a look at him. He was awfully popular for such a young horse, particularly for a horse whom had no future as a classic distance horse. Ripley was pretty sure he would become even more popular as he aged. Maybe he didn't have a great value at stud, but his breeding sure would make him an interesting stud, along with whatever record he would gain as a race horse.

Mastermind flicked his tail and it lashed sharply at Ripley's leg. She was glad she had jeans on. It sure wouldn't have felt good. The colt liked swinging his tail during grooming and riding. He was not so nice during these periods. He was nowhere close to being as nice as his dam or sire. He tolerated Ripley's attention when she came by simply because he knew he would get to run. He had an attitude and was cunning enough to cause trouble. However, the horse knew how to run. He didn't care about rivalries. He didn't care who he beat. He wanted to run them all into the ground, of course after he toyed with them for the first four furlongs or so.

Ripley patted the colt's neck as he cruised along the outside rail. He would have two serious moves before the Unicorn Horn Juvenile Dirt Sprint. She wanted him ready to face whatever competition would arise from the ranks. She leaned forward and the colt leapt into a faster pace. She glanced under her arm to see if there was anyone coming up in the direction. A bay horse and rider were coming up at the same pace. She had managed to get into contact with a former friend who trained runners for a favor. The horse, a maiden, would be the workout partner for Mastermind for this work.

Ripley saluted the rider as they drew even. Mastermind tilted his head and eyed the horse, showing relatively no interest afterward. He returned to his bit playing as if he weren't really bothered. "Tell Martin thank you for giving me a workmate today. I'll return the favor soon." The rider smiled and nodded. "He said not to worry about favors. He just wanted to see his horse work out with Mastermind. He's a fan of sprinter lines."

Ripley laughed and smiled. "I take it Martin doesn't believe this horse has any Triple Crown aspirations." The rider laughed. "No ma'am. He's a good plodder." The exercise boy patted the bay horse affectionately, clearly the horse's lack of talent didn't effect his connection's opinion of him. "But he's a very fast work horse. He does what we need him to do. He just doesn't have it in the afternoons."

The older woman nodded. It's only morning now. We'll go a mile and a half gallop. Side by side. If I fall back a little, don't worry, just keep a steady pace. We're going to work five furlongs at the end of the half. Keep pace for as long as you can." Ripley tightened her reins on the gamboling chestnut colt. He flattened his ears in response, bowing his neck. He knew it was almost time to run.

"An insult to Poncho here. He'll be humbled. Everyone saw that last work at Green Horse Fields, Ms. Marsh. Poncho's a good work horse, but I don't believe the best could have kept up with Sunny's colt in that workout." Ripley was flattered and wanted to say something, but the bay's rider turned away, focused on the track now. Ripley did the same, lowering her hands on Mastermind's strong neck. The colt's front legs flung out in defiance. He wanted to roll, but she wanted to keep him tied down for a while.

Poncho and Mastermind moved as one down toward the rail. Her chestnut colt wanted to crowd the bay horse, but Ripley was determined to ease him off. Poncho was a sweet looking animal. Mastermind could be an intimidating even to the sweetest creature. He tossed his head up, snorting. Around the first turn, the gangly horse finally settled into a rhythm. Keeping up easily with Poncho and seemingly unwilling to pass him as of right now. The colt never took his eye off the horse. Ripley liked a horse with guts and Mastermind had his mother's guts.

In tandem, they moved up the backstretch, letting the horses out a little in order to get their lungs to open up properly. Mastermind was still plenty relaxed, but easily swung into his second gear. He mouthed gently at the bit, reading Ripley's reactions as best he could. Ripley would ride him in the Unicorn Horn Juvi. Sprint. Brookson knew the colt, but Ripley understood him. She intended to only ride races for four more years. Mastermind would be among her last race horses to ride. She would make it count.

Ripley felt a chill run through her veins. Mastermind was just doing it so easily. He was a sprinter, but he felt as if he could run longer distances. Ripley knew better. Though he could gallop forever, his brilliant speed only lasted for so long. The small woman leaned forward a little more, keeping her hands tight on the reins. Mastermind was beginning to pull now, practically begging for more rein, for less of Ripley's control.

Mastermind swung a little wide on the far turn, head cranked to watch the bay to his inside. Ripley jerked the reins to the right and the colt refocused, snorts pouring out of him like a man eagerly puffing a cigar. Ripley sent an unapologetic look at the exercise boy as they ran down the homestretch again. Another half mile to go as they passed the wire for the first time. Poncho would be a challenge to Mastermind for the first three furlongs. Ripley eased Mastermind back as they marched fiercely into the first turn once again.

Mastermind, flicked his ears back, but was surprisingly eager to fall back three lengths. Ripley glanced out toward the rail. Plenty of people had gathered to watch. Mastermind understood stalking. He understood rating. He understood timing. The only time he couldn't run well was when his rider held him back without his consent. The exercise boy looked back under his arm. Shook his head understanding the futility of urging Poncho on. The boy knew there was nothing like Mastermind out there. He was in a class by himself when it came to two year old sprinters.

Still he urged his brave Poncho on in the backstretch, asking for speed. Poncho responded, believing Mastermind had dropped out of the work. For the first furlong, the rider almost believed the lean chestnut had dropped out as well. He looked under his arm again. Now four lengths back, Ripley was sitting chilly on the cruising Mastermind. Poncho's rider gulped and looked forward again.

Ripley couldn't believe how easy Mastermind was going for her. All the pulling from before had vanished. He was just sweeping over the track with ease. She laughed nervously. Who knew what she had beneath her? Maybe only God did. The trainer closed her eyes and breathed, gently asking Mastermind for a little more. He responded by immediately gaining a length on Poncho. The colt had burst forward with electric speed. "Alright there Mister. Let's get him."

Three furlongs in Ripley asked for a lot more. Mastermind gave a lot more. The crowd on the rails gasped as the colt seemed to turn into a red comet. In the space of three seconds, Mastermind had gained three lengths and was now matching Poncho stride for stride. He waved his tail as if taunting the bay and slowed to keep pace by himself. Ripley let out a low whistle. Poncho's rider looked at her. "Why isn't he going by? Why suspend the inevitable?"

Ripley shrugged her shoulders. "I'm not doing it." She returned her cat green eyes to Mastermind. As they raced toward the far turn, she felt him bunch. The colt was quick and cunning. He'd leaned racing far faster than even El Sol del Mar had. He knew the far turn already. Knew his style of race. Ripley just braced herself for the launch. Mastermind pinned his ears back. Poncho's rider gasped. Then Poncho and his rider were both gone.

Ripley let the colt run the last three furlongs. The chestnut roared around the final turn, legs extending and contracting so smoothly, a well oiled machine. Ripley just clung like a burr. He had stopped snorting and his ears were pricked up again. Poncho was gone. There was nothing else. He'd run Poncho into the ground. Ripley looked under her shoulder. Poncho wasn't floundering. He was still going strong about three lengths back. Ripley needed more from Mastermind. He had to be ready for the sprint. She prayed that Martin wouldn't kill her for breaking Poncho's heart.

Then she dropped her hands. Mastermind dropped his head.

It was a stunning performance to watch from the rail. The colt just bounded away, showing his tremendous brilliance. In two seconds he was seven lengths in front of Poncho. In four, he'd expanded his lead to ten. In six, the chestnut cruised under the wire, fifteen lengths in front of his stunned workmate. His pounding hooves rang loudly in the silence that filled the rails and track. Collective breaths poured out of wide open mouths. Ripley stood up in the stirrups. Mastermind was hard to pull up this time. She felt bad for Poncho, but Mastermind hadn't even been trying.

He still felt as though he weren't even trying. Ripley shook her head. Wow. It took another mile before the colt came completely back to her. He was lathered, but his muscles were pulsing from the workout. Brookson was on Frozen Motion at the gate. His eyes were glazed with awe and shock. "I can't get him to do that in a race. But you can."

Ripley stroked her horse's neck. She wasn't in shock at the moment. When she'd see the video of him on You Tube later in the day of the workout, then she would see what kind of monster she had. She looked at the line of people at the rail, all of whom had their heads turned her way. "Go easy on the next two Brooks. We don't want people thinking we have a barn full of radioactive superheroes."

Brooks let out a short laugh, that nearly sounded distressed. He watched Ripley walk the colt back to the barn. Mastermind hadn't even been breathing hard.

[Ripley]

Witch Creek Stable Presents:
Brookson Wells and Frozen Motion

It was going to be hard to follow up the ever impressive Mastermind out on the track. Brooks was positive that as talented as Freeze was, there was no horse in Ripley's barn quite capable of measuring up to the effortless running of Mastermind at short distances. The blonde haired man patted Freeze's dappled gray neck. "Don't go getting stage fright on me there Sir." Brooks looked up from his three year old colt to take a look around. People were now milling about the rails, their voices buzzing with excitement. Clint hadn't been lying about the buzz that usually followed Mastermind when he worked out at the track, Green Horse Fields or not.

Some eyes went up to watch Brooks as he walked the colt along the outside rail of the dirt track. Frozen Motion's ears flopped uselessly and he walked as if he hadn't a care in the world. The colt was always listless until he hit that turf track. Ripley had notified the racing world what they were missing in her article in the Gallop, especially those at Green Horse Fields who had yet to see Freeze running. Freeze had romped in the Insight Stakes, surprising even Brooks with the ease which he'd won. Ripley had said the colt was ready for a big run and she hadn't lied. Marsh knows her horses, Brooks thought to himself.

Freeze loved to run. The colt seemed to thrive on running. Even Mastermind got a little tired after the races, but Freeze just was a machine. He was peppy in his stall now. His dappled gray coat was shining and his muscles had filled out gloriously in the last few weeks. Unlike most race horses, Freeze thrived on running and needed little vacation time. For only his first win of the year, second win of his career, Brooks had been impressed. Greatness was expected from Mastermind, brilliance a fact. Freeze was quietly dominating. Even now he was only quietly impressive.

A pretty horse to look at as he walked along the rail, but nothing more until he got moving. Brooks stroked the horse's neck. He bobbed his head up and down appreciatively. The colt turned his attention to the horses running on the track, ears flicking nonchalantly as they went by him. Freeze was an easy horse to work with until you got him running. Then he just wanted to run. It had taken weeks for Ripley and Brooks to get the colt settled down enough to stalk in his race. Even still Frozen Motion had a tendency to press the pace.

Brooks urged the colt up into a trot, moving by some slower horses on the rail. Froze bowed his neck and stuck out his chest, displaying some of his newly gained confidence. Lucky for Marsh and me that he hasn't gotten an attitude along with the confidence, Brooks thought. Freeze had one more race in January before he got his week off in February. The Up The Stakes where so far he would face Nightshade, a horse that he had beaten in the Insight Stakes by two and a half lengths and a new contender from Akita Rose Stables in Snow Storm. Nightshade was a two year old filly with promising talent, but with so little experience and with his age, Freeze was capable of beating her. Snow Storm had raced eight times with only one win to his name. Freeze and Snow Storm had raced together in the Ameliorate Stakes where Freeze had had finished second and Snow Storm fourth.

Brooks knew that if his horse stayed at the form he was in now, Freeze would be extremely hard to beat. And because the other two were closers, Freeze could set an easy pace and steal the race away on the front end. As long as Brooks could get him to settle down anyway.

Freeze knew exactly where to go on the track for the entrance to the turf. The colt was particularly fond of The Wire's turf surface. This would be his third race and his first workout here. The colt was already developing his habit. He jumped into the air as soon as his hooves touched the grass, but Brooks was prepared because the colt's quirky habit occurred every day. Brooks sat through the lunging and jumping and waited for Freeze to get over himself patiently. The colt was all sorts of puffed up now. Brooks shook his head. Freeze was so impressive when he wanted to be.

Frozen Motion slipped into his choppy canter along the outside rail, head tilted toward the rail as he did so. Brooks stood up to avoid the bounciness and allowed Freeze to take his time. The dappled gray settled nicely into his usual motions and began to calm down. His ear flicked every time a horse went flying by on the rail, but as when he was on the dirt, Freeze just mosied along and forgot the other horses. He was really getting into the habit of not caring about his rivals.

He was professional and cool, something that was hard to find in the early three year old season. Freeze mouthed the bit gently, testing the waters and Brooks' attention. Brooks flicked his wrist and brought the colt down to the middle of the track. A two mile gallop and a two furlong sprint was on the bulletin board today according to Marsh. She would get her workout and her gallop on a silver platter, literally.

Freeze sped up willingly, head held up, but not fighting the control on the bit. He lifted his knees and picked up his usual high cruising speed. Brooks had no intentions of working down on the rail today. He wanted to build stamina into his colt at The Wire. There weren't hills and valleys to build strength here like there were at Witch Creek. Freeze moved quietly over the turf, small ears pricked up when a flock of birds flew up two feet in front of him. Brooks held a breath, but Freeze shifted paths and went right on by. Brooks patted his shoulder and talked to him, complimenting him on his behavior.

The pair slipped around the course at a constantly fast rate. He was clicking off the two minute lick without any signs of tiring. Brooks leaned forward a bit more, Freeze expanded his stride, but didn't seem to move any faster. The stride was definitely more comfortable to Brooks though so he didn't complain. The pair cruised up to the two mile mark. Freeze was too consistent to make any stunning moves on the track during a morning workout.

He wasn't overly flashy like Mastermind. He did what he had to do in order to run like a silver bullet in the afternoon races. Brooks eased him down to the four path once they hit the final turn again. The blonde leaned still closer, Freeze jumped out, instantly gaining speed. The horse had amazingly good traction on the turf surface and he pushed off well with his hind end. Brooks never moved a muscle as the colt bounded forward, letting him do it his own way.

Frozen Motion was really on the muscle for these two feelings, gaining speed with every stride. He shoved his nose out and his near white mane whipped Brooks' face. Brooks really enjoyed this horse. Really found a solace in riding him that he couldn't find anywhere else.

The two furlongs roared by and Brooks stood up, grabbing at Freeze and finding him happy to come back to a strong gallop out. The made it back to the gap for the dirt track in speedy time. Brooks asked the colt to trot along to the outside rail, mindful of the runners on the track. He was surprised to see Ripley riding Indian Darling out to meet him. The bay filly had her usual hood on, the blue W shining proudly in the middle of all the black. Her mane was whipping wildly. She looked really good after the week of rest.

Ripley turned the bay and motioned for Brooks to ride alongside her. "Change of plans. Hourglass is antsy and I'm not willing to risk getting on her right now. I was going over her legs and found some heat. It's probably nothing, but I'm going to have the vet go over her when we get back to Witch Creek. This may put off her training until the beginning of Fall."

Brooks looked at her for some sign of disappointment and found none. She looked unusually pleased. "You don't look unhappy." Ripley shrugged. "I'm not. If anything it will allow her to grow and mature a little more. Plus I just received word from Clint that we might be taking in a couple of horses. We'll need the time to work with them."

Brooks raised his eyebrows and his eyes were shining excitedly. "Who?" Ripley winked at him. "You'll see." The quartet walked counter clockwise on the track. "He looked really nice today Brooks. You look like you enjoy him."

Brooks leaned over and stroked the colt's neck. "He's easily my favorite. He's a powerful horse Ripley." Ripley nodded in agreement. "Well go cool him out and get some liniment on those legs of his. I'm going to do some work with Darla. I'm going to ride her in her races this year. You can't have all the fun you know."

She laughed and stopped the filly. Indian Darling looked about the track quietly. Brooks saluted Ripley, passed through the gap and walked Freeze back to the barn.

[Ripley]

Witch Creek Stable Presents:
Ripley Marsh and Indian Darling

Indian Darling stood at the edge of track, her small ears pricked to look out over The Wire. The filly's muscled body glimmered and she stood very still. Her long mane and tail whipped around in the wind and her eyes seemed to burn. For all her stillness, Darla's body was braced for run. Her body was vibrating it seemed with energy. She looked very much the wild horse at the moment. The tack and rider did nothing to quell the image. The bay held herself tall, her eyes scanning everything. The running horses, the shouting people, the aggravated riders. Her hide flicked carelessly if a bug landed on her. Ripley felt the filly's determination through the reins and through the saddle.

She was acting different. Her race in the January Maiden Dirt seemed to have hardened her. She'd run against ten horses that day. Brooks had not been prepared at all for the filly. He'd only gotten on her for the first time in that race. Ripley, however, had been on her multiple times, knew her quirks like the back of her hand, and still cursed herself for letting Brookson get on her. He was a patient rider, but he hadn't been the right match for Darla. While he'd been out riding Lulu and Freeze, Ripley had been back at the barn studying Darla quietly, as well as dealing with Hourglass' heated legs.

She was determined to find the key for the filly. Brookson had gotten Darla into a world of trouble. Right from the gate, he'd pushed her forward and found himself pinched back by two horses. Darla had yanked her head right up and seemed to give the appearance of bolting backward. She'd moved over easily to the rail and then had been glued to it due to another horse coming in alongside her. Not used to being so far back, Darla had run up so quickly that she had clipped heels with the horse in front of her and had nearly gone down. Ripley had been sure, watching the television monitor with Clint, that the filly's race would be done with at that point. However, even being last going into the far turn, the filly had recovered well to range up to be sixth, beaten 14 lengths by the winner. Her introduction to Green Horse Fields couldn't have gone any worse.

Ripley patted the filly's dark neck. Darla had been dead tired at the end of that race and she'd needed the last week off to recover from that race. The Wire would have to be the place for Darla to regain her confidence and form back. Ripley would ride her and figure out a style for her.

Indian Darling was still standing in the same place when Ripley emerged from her reverie. The filly felt tougher and weirdly enough more confident. Her body usually gleamed with sweat, but today it was dry. She usually danced about, eyes rolling, but was quietly reserved today. Ripley nudged her forward with a gentle pressure from her calves. Darla flicked an ear back and stepped out, forelock blowing back as the direction of the wind changed.

Ripley was content to let the filly look around as they trotted lightly around the track. Darla's cups had helped her immensely to focus her run. However, after the near massacre in the last race, Ripley had cut the cups back to be 1/4 cups. Indian Darling was going to have to get over her nerves. For the most part she had, but she still needed those support cups for now to encourage her. Darla floated easily over the dirt, well in control of her movements. Ripley had never met a more dainty moving horse than Darla. She was like a deer and just as silent. She didn't snort or breathe excitably. She just took everything in with a quiet attitude. Whether or not the thing freaked her out, Darla usually stayed quiet either way. She just moved faster.

Darla finished her first lap of the track at a jog. By this point Brooks had returned and was standing with the clockers. Ripley nodded to him as she passed. The clockers surrounding him, turned his way briefly, eyes lighting with interest. Any person acknowledged by Ripley was worth noting, especially with her recent success this past week. One of them, a portly man asked Brooks after Ripley and Darla had passed, "You rode Mastermind, Frozen Motion and Indian Darling last weekend didn't you?" The others turned and Brooks tried to prevent a flush from creeping up his face.

"Yes I did." The portly man pursed his lips. "You're decent, but quite honestly, your ride was disastrous on Indian Darling. But if Ripley Marsh says you'll do, well I guess you'll do." He turned away with his eyebrows raised. Brooks just stared at his thick back, in a way shaken and stirred. He wasn't used to criticism, though he had taken it a little to heart when Ripley had come out riding Darla. He had ridden the filly badly so he supposed he deserved to lose the mount. He ran his hands through his hair and refocused on Darla, trying not to become to bothered.

Ripley Marsh, unaware that her jockey was being criticized publicly, asked Indian Darling to pick up a gallop. The filly flowed over the dirt track like water. She seemed to really relish the surface, her ears were flicking playfully on her head. Today she actually seemed eager to move. Eager and definitely less nervous. Ripley was personally shocked because she'd been expecting the horse to wash out completely. Ripley was pleasantly surprised by the lack of fear in the little bay filly. She stroked Darla's neck and crooned nonsense to her.

She leaned forward on her mount, her red-brown braid coming down over her shoulder to mix briefly with Darla's wildly mussed mane. Indian Darling picked up speed at the movement. She really wanted to do more. She was straining. Ripley gently pulled back and the filly sort of checked up, but not as well as usual. Ripley slowed her movements then, really focusing on keeping the filly down to this purposeful gallop. Darla tossed her head back, mouth agape. Ripley narrowed her cat eyes.

The pair rounded the far turn together, fighting. Darla was begging for freedom. She was the one horse, Ripley felt as though she didn't have perfect control over. There was no reason for this feeling. Just something wild that wasn't expected. Native Flame and Strike the Win hadn't had this sense of wildness to them that Darla seemed to possess. Ripley took a deep cleansing breath. With the breath, the filly seemed to relax more. Ripley let the reins out a notch and she steadied. They were coming back around for the half portion of the mile and a half gallop, when Ripley felt the filly bunch her muscles. Ripley looked into the distance and found on the rail that six horses were running together, probably not planned, but still it was happening. Darla's ears were honed in on them.

Brooks saw what was going to happen as soon as Ripley and Darla had entered the backstretch. However, he'd expected Ripley to choke the filly down. The clockers were too busy paying attention to the six horses to take note of the plain brown wrapper running six lengths behind them. Brooks held his breath and felt a hand descend on his shoulder. He looked up and found himself looking into Clint's jet blue eyes. Together the men looked back at Ripley.

Ripley felt a punch of sudden adrenaline. She wanted to run. Darla wanted to run. Darla could feel the nerves that coursed through her rider and her adrenaline became amped up as well. Ripley prayed to God she was making the right decision. She let the reins out a notch.

Indian Darling leapt forward into the released bridle, stride lengthening and tail flinging out behind her. Ripley was still as the filly began to make up the six lengths between the pack and herself. The brown filly was like a tornado. She ate up the ground ferociously, really spreading herself low of the ground. Ripley kept herself as calm as possible. The workers were beginning to pick up pace, almost in tandem. This could go either really well or extremely bad.

Ripley found herself guiding the filly through the back pair. Darla cut her way through like a knife. It was at this point that her ears slammed back into the hood and her wild mane. Indian Darling pulled forward. Ripley saw a hole between runners, but knew it was going to close up fast. Indian Darling was settled for a second, but then Ripley pumped her arms and all deals were broken with control.

Indian Darling suddenly shot forward, small body punching through the slim hole between runners. She had the bit between her teeth and Ripley sat uselessly on the filly's brown back like a burr. Darla's ears remained flat to her head which was snaked out with a look of fierce wildness. People watched in amazement, number one because of the large amount of runners and then two because of the ferocious speed that was coming from the tiny bay filly.

It was as though a light switch had been flicked on in Darla's head. She was simply flying, glued to the turn. Ripley let her run her five furlongs in workout speed. At mid home stretch, Ripley looked under shoulder. Darla's competitors were five lengths back. She let out a soft breath and Darla shut it down now feeling Ripley's body relax into the saddle. Darla's ears went up and they cruised alone across the wire. Ripley let the filly gallop out and found herself impressed at the strength of the wire.

The portly man turned back to Brookson, "Now that's a rider right there." He turned away, shaking his head. "Five furlongs in 1:00 flat." He walked away with his note pad. Brookson was left to only his silent agreement, as Clint walked away to meet up with Ripley.

Ripley's eyes widened with excitement when she saw Clint. Her filly was sweated up now and her nostrils were wide, but she played with the bit contentedly. "Impressive isn't she?"

Clint nodded, his eyes lighting up. "We've known she's fast, but she needs you to be her rider. You feed her energy. The three runners so far in the Running Mad Maiden aren't going to be able to run with you if your partnership looks as good as it did today."

Ripley murmured agreement and slapped his shoulder. "Glad you finally came."