Post by Ripley on Oct 25, 2012 17:23:36 GMT -5
It was quite beautiful out on this summer day. Brooks glanced about the area, blue eyes surveying The Wire. The race track had grown immensely in popularity since the start of the year. The Triple Tiara and soon the Canadian Triple Crown would bring further popularity to the competitor of Green Horse Fields. Brooks had doubted Ripley when she'd said The Wire would become large enough to rival the superior Green Horse Fields. Well she'd been right and he'd been wrong. And he was glad he'd been wrong.
The Wire had proven him wrong. The place was charming and welcoming. Horses cantered about and galloped on the turf and dirt tracks. Clockers paid special attention to those horses. They hardly cared for the horse that Brooks was seated on in the innermost track, the steeplechase track. They had once cared for his horse, the son of Like A Cheetah. But now he was done with flat racing which he had only been so-so at. He was moving on to the jumps and Brooks would accompany him on this uncharted territory for Witch Creek.
The black stallion with the comet stripe walked gracefully along the outside rail, pricking his kind ears every time a flat runner raced by him. Sweeto Cheeto was not the typical front runner and it had taken years of stalking and half a season of Year Twelve racing for Witch Creek to realize this. The colt was just too smart to want to run in a circle all his life. He needed to be interested in his work. Jumps made him interested. Sweeto Cheeto had jumped the fences at home and had took off running for the hills. Luckily all of Witch Creek was fenced in with durable seven foot fences that the speedy Like A Cheetah stallion hadn't been able to jump.
It was enough to cause them to rethink racing for the black horse. It had pointed them and Sweeto Cheeto in this direction. It was a new direction and Brookson was only happy to join the horse on his journey. He had helped Frozen Motion out in the Turf Triple Crown, somewhere even Ripley had never been before. He would help to rectify this horse's racing career.
People would always look down on steeplechasing, just as they had always looked down on Sweeto Cheeto. But he would come out well in this new division and new career. He would always have a home with Witch Creek one way or another. Brooks patted the horse's neck, feeling the powerful neck muscles crinkle beneath his rough hands. Cheeto had filled out magnificently in his vacation. He looked handsome and beautiful. He was full of himself and he stepped proudly over the lush turf.
The stallion had loved the jumps first time out in the Grand National Steeplechase Race Five. He had met up with a better and more experienced runner in GS Ultimate Challenge from Intrepid Racing. This workout would help to familiarize him even more with the turf track. Sweeto Cheeto glanced excitedly at the jumps as he now trotted by them, the powerful grass hedges level with his thick chest. Oh he knew what was going to happen. He nickered, eyes bright and tossed his mane.
Yes big guy we'll be heading over them soon enough. Brooks picked up the reins, felt the strength surging through them and asked the Like A Cheetah son for a powerful gallop. He was only too happy to oblige. Sweeto Cheeto bowed his neck, muscles straining against the breast plate and martingale. The leather was slicked with lather already and it was making Cheeto even more excited than usual.
Brooks stood in the saddle, guiding Cheeto around the jumps. There was just enough space to the left of the emerald green hedge for three horses to gallop through. Sweeto Cheeto surged through it, muscles pounding and rushing. The horse was full of adrenaline. He bowed his neck and forcefully cantered along, ears always tuned to the sweeping jumps. They were alone on the steeplechase track, soaking in its dramatic beauty and challenge. Brooks settled into the horse's great stride. He was a different horse running on this track. Different in some unknown way.
Confidence, Brooks thought. That's what the striped faced stallion had now. He had an explosive confidence. Brooks only had to touch the reins and Sweeto Cheeto leaped forward, flinging his legs forward emphatically. The curly haired man grinned and wrestled the stallion back down to a smooth gallop. There would be time for speed running. The inner track was smaller than the other two. They would complete two miles of this track at a gallop and a third at race speed. Steeplechaser's had to be prepared for the endurance running they did. Jumping and running was so tiring compared to just racing. The horse had to be prepared, had to be courageous, had to prove his worth.
Brooks smiled over the stallion's long whipping mane and they simply cruised. Sweeto Cheeto was a kind force in the barn and an intense force out on this particular track. He was happy as a clam and excited like no other time before this. Brooks stroked the stallion's gleaming neck, calling to him in encouragement. That's it good man! No one's given up on you just yet! the wind stole his words, but Cheeto's ears had flickered. He had heard and he bounded away.
The two laps flew by faster and faster. Sweeto Cheeto was gaining strength and speed. He was used to this type of workout. Witch Creek didn't usually promote speed over stamina. The exception being Cross My Heart, but of course, Ripley loved the filly so she got away with speedier and smaller works. Sweeto Cheeto wasn't a weenie. Brooks guided him off of the rail around the far turn into the backstretch. This wasn't typically where a traditional steeplechase race started, but they had to begin somewhere. The flat chute was too far away and it was more convenient.
Brooks took the reins into his hands, containing the powerhouse beneath him. Sweeto Cheeto cranked his neck up, lifted his knees higher. The first hedge roared close. Brooks held his breath as Cheeto rushed for it, picking up speed three feet away and then suddenly leaping over it in a mass of flesh. The black horse brushed the hedge, taking out some folliage with his legs. He muscled forward, suspended momentarily in air and then descended. He touched down on his front hooves gracefully, gathered himself and allowed time for Brooks to gather himself before breaking for the next hedge.
Brooks let out a hoot, remembered to contain the stallion again and grinned when Sweeto Cheeto pushed off his hind legs to rise over the jump. It was the most magnificent feeling in the world. Cheeto was a wonderful ride and he was brilliant over the jumps. It was gravity defying. It was steeplechasing.
Cheeto bucked when he touched down this time, head flinging up and he squealed. He was so happy that it gave Brooks chills. They were forming a new partnership. The rest of the lap continued similarly. Some people took notice of his proud stallion, but everyone else chose to ignore. But the people along the rail took notice when suddenly the partnership clicked in. Soon Brooks was choosing the moment of take off, the moment of suspension. They noticed the black stallion willingly give his lead to his rider and take the jumps.
Trust formed. Confidence grew. A bond became stronger with every imposing hedge. Sweeto Cheeto was ready to take on his next career. Brookson would be his partner and Witch Creek would support the horse who had just discovered his favorite job.
