challenger

[Ripley]

Courtesy of Event of the Year Photos.

Ripley was particularly excited about coming to The Wire today and it was not just because she was bringing Mastermind in for his date with destiny in the Champagne Stakes. Rather it had something to do with a plain brown wrapper of a filly who had all the potential in the world. And yet this filly had just one win to her relatively obscure name. Ripley glanced in the mirror as she pulled the gates that went to the backstretch of her second favorite place to be. After Witch Creek of course. Brooks was asleep in the passenger seat, tired after galloping six horses from 3 until 7 in the morning. Her green eyes sparkled. She'd galloped Mastermind before loading the handsome colt into the trailer and was awake as she had ever been.

She usually was when she had a good feeling about her horses. The head trainer of Witch Creek pulled up to her assigned stable and began to unload the tack equipment into one of her three stalls. The horses were quiet on the trailer, peering at her through the open windows. The shedrow where her pair would be stabled was warmer than most as it was blocked on three sides from the chilly winter wind. Ripley rolled her shoulders as she dumped three bales of hay into the "office" stall, finally getting nickers from her pair of horses.

She glanced up and smiled when she saw that both Mastermind and Indian Darling were watching her with keen eyes. Mastermind would not be so much of a surprise to the regulars at The Wire, but Darla would. The filly shouldn't even be starting until Year Thirteen, but the vet had cleared her with a 110% rating of health. And here she was. Four weeks before she started here at The Wire, right before the new year.

Ripley quickly unloaded her pair of horses. Mastermind came out first, his usual sculpted self. And then Indian Darling, almost as brilliant looking as her stablemate. No one was around this particular shedrow at eight in the morning. This training barn typically was quiet at eight because all of their horses went out together. Just because Ripley trained at home didn't mean that she was ignorant to the goings on of The Wire. She filled a water bucket from a faucet for each horse, allowed time for let down and then went up to promptly wake up Brooks.

Wake up handy man! I did all the chores. Now all you have to do is sit outside Mastermind's stall while I go out and play. Brooks grumbled at Ripley, but didn't drag his feet getting out of the truck. He opened a folding chair and planted his butt in it, covering his face with a thick face mask. His bright blue eyes peered over it as Ripley lead Indian Darling out of the stall and tied her to the trailer. She sure has been benefiting from the gallops in the morning, he said. Looks like she got rid of all of the fat she built up over vacation. Her legs look clean and I would've though that she'd run a few more races over the season.

Ripley batted her eyelashes at her assistant trainer, Why Brookson Wells, was that a compliment? Brooks smirked behind his mask, but his eyes were as stony as ever. She shook her head at him and continued with her brushing and wrapping. Darla stood still through it all, though her head was constantly moving about, analyzing her new home for the next two and a half days. She remembered. Her skin twitched excitably, though she remained quiet. Her eyes brightened up with that fire that Ripley remembered. Today would be the first day she got to truly run since her last race in the Magic Millions Fillies Dirt. Ripley could not wait to see how she moved now after nearly nine months off.

The woman patted the shimmering filly, admiring her newly-developed elegance. She still possessed that wildness, but it was different now. She was kinder, more mature, more grand. And less of the plain brown wrapper. Ripley quickly placed the blankets and tack on her, admiring the fit. She had grown plenty and was now wearing Wish Upon A Star's girth. She had shot up nearly a hand and her legs and rump were pleasantly filled out. Her break had easily made her one of the more developed two year olds in Witch Creek's barn.

Ripley fixed the blinker hood on and saw the pride that fluttered into Darla's gaze. She knew she was back and she finally began to dance, tossing her head and flicking her tail over her rump. Brooks moaned, She's gonna go out there and rocket around like a champ and I'll be stuck here... Ripley snickered and laughed, looking over the dozing Mastermind. Just find a groom we know Brooks and tell him to babysit. Mastermind isn't going anywhere. I'll be trotting and galloping around for ten minutes, depending on what she does. So hurry up.

Indian Darling dragged Ripley away from the trailer and promptly planted her hooves, tilting her head expectantly. She looked cute with the black hood on, though in a more intense way that before. Ripley swung up with Brookson's boost and enjoyed the feeling of coming home. Ripley hadn't even nudged Darla two steps before Brooks had disappeared to find a groom. She patted the filly's neck as she walked away from the shedrow, a beautiful spring in her walk today.

Darla's ears flickered about with every new sound and her nostrils flared wide as she took in all of the old scents she remembered. Her muscles began to come alive beneath her shiny bay hide and she began to strut, her tail high over her rump. This had been Mastermind before Mastermind had turned into a monster. This had been Cross My Heart before Cross had even come to Witch Creek. Indian Darling had been Ripley's pride and joy. The filly had taken a while to come around mentally, but now she would be Ripley's ace in the hole come three year old season.

Today was different because people were going to notice Darla. She hadn't looked like anything spectacular early in the three year old season. Not a bronze sculpture like Mastermind, Darla had fallen quietly into the background. But now she was different. She was a standout. When visitors came around they asked about the brown filly out front with eagerness in their eyes. Even in a paddock Darla now had the presence of a champ.

She marched out onto the track right alongside where the clockers stood. And Ripley's eyes glimmered with her old trouble making ways. There were plenty of other more convenient areas to come out on to the track, but this one suited her purposes for this morning. Darla was going to make a statement today, to both the clockers and to her trainer/jockey. Ripley pretended to ignore the nudges and glances from the clockers as Darla moved into her free-floating trot. It was just as smooth as ever. Each hoof touched down distinctly beneath Indian Darling with knife-like precision and gentleness. Her black tail wafted out behind her like a flag. Ripley posted along becoming more impressed with Indian Darling's overall growth.

Horses raced about to their inside and Darla cranked her head a couple times to get a good long look, but she kept moving. She didn't shake, didn't whinny nervously, and didn't bolt. She was calm though not quite relaxed. Rather controlled and confident. The sun glinted off of her dapples as she danced her way around the loop. They in no hurry today and if people wanted to get a look at what her filly really could do, they would stick around like she expected. Indian Darling dipped her head down, touching her chin to her chest as she trotted over the dirt, tail still up and waving about.

She had a queenly attitude to her and was definitely an attention getter. Ripley remained quiet, hands light, seat light, eyes forward. She didn't want attention to be drawn to her. Darla was the star of the show. Every few strides now Indian Darling would begin to snort and toss her head. Her nostrils would flare if a horse rocketed by and Ripley could feel the tension coming into her muscles. They were entering the homestretch now after completing their mile jog around the farthest points of the track. Darla remembered that this was where she made her move. Her steps became higher and more quick.

Brooks watched from the rail hidden by his winter gear from the public. She sure looked like the show girl out there. And what he could hear, the reviews so far were raving. Brooks nodded to Ripley minutely when she passed by. Her green eyes looked right through him, understanding that he did not want to be found out. A second later Ripley stood and as smooth as you please, Darla fell into her canter. She bowed her neck like a Trojan horse, flicked her black tail around and moved right on by the clockers.

Darla was gripping the bit between her teeth, much to Ripley's dislike. They would begin to fight now and then Darla would have nothing left for the workout. She loosened her grip on the reins, stood tall and forced herself to relax. Darla was the only horse at Witch Creek that unnerved her with her running style. She was so inwardly explosive that it could get to be scary. But today she listened, her ears went to being pricked as they now cantered down the middle of the homestretch and she began to stretch out her magnificent gallop. Her larger frame covered the ground better than her smaller self had and Ripley wondered if that meant she was any faster. She was definitely more balanced.

They moved nicely into the clubhouse, her stride growing stronger and mightier as she swapped leads at the correct time. Ripley stayed in her upright position, letting Darla enjoy stretching her legs. She was a tougher filly than she had been. A nice quality filly with a strong pedigree for dirt now that Winning Touch, grade two, had put Strike the Win on the map. Darla bowed her head, asking for more rein as she looped into the homestretch. More people were gathering on the backstretch to watch the horses and plenty of them took note of the cantering filly.

Ripley let the reins go out a little bit and Darla swiftly obliged stride lengthening until she was doing a cruising gallop. Her lean figure cut the corner beautifully as she fell in line with the rest of the working or breezing horses. Her gallop was similar to her canter and trot, floating, gorgeous, elegant. She was leaner than Winning Touch and clearly not as heavy on her body which boded well for a nice career in the future. Ripley leaned closer, still relatively upright. She wanted Darla to do this gallop smoothly, to get the hang of the racing surface again. She'd preferred The Wire over Green Horse Fields track when she was running earlier in the season. It was kinder on her delicate feet.

The swept up the homestretch where she carried herself with confidence. She knew where she was. Horses were smart. They remembered places where they were happy. Ripley sat silent on the filly's shapely back as they cruised past the wire for the first time and back into the clubhouse turn. Two miles of jog work and gallop work already and Indian Darling wasn't feeling a bit of it. It made Ripley all the more happy because if she was doing this well, imagine how well Flashpoint was doing when he finished up a half-length behind her in their gallops. Excitement thrummed through Ripley's figure at the potential of her two year olds.

More rein was released to the Native Flame daughter and gratefully accepted. Darla was quieter on the bit now, understanding what Ripley was doing in today's workout. Her stride became quicker, her breathing more excited as they ran up the backstretch. Ripley leaned closer, auburn hair drifting down to mingle with the black of the fillies. Indian Darling drew comfort from the closeness, picking up speed as they made their way to the far turn. Ripley's mouth parted briefly in excitement, adrenaline pumped through her blood. Here was where they found out how much Darla was storing up in her lithe body.

With a cluck and a release of the reins, Indian Darling bolted. Her gallop stride went from tamed to barely controlled, her mane whipping back to slap Ripley in the face. Tears formed in Ripley's eyes when Darla really picked it up in the far turn. Her stride tightened up and she nearly leaped a path closer to the metal rail when changing to her left lead. This was scary speed and Ripley was left clutching the whipping mane, breath whooshing in and out of her lungs. As Darla sped through the final turn, Ripley's heart began to pound wildly. This was the filly she'd been looking for either the Triple Tiara or the Triple Crown. They'd lost time together in her two year old season, but here she was ready to challenge either Wish Upon A Star, Van Guard or Red Herring for their positions in the three year old classics.

The clockers and Brooks held their breath as Darla came off of the turn. A horse that had been just a length behind her was now seven lengths behind in the blink of an eye. She was breathtakingly alluring. Pure poetry and so damn quiet that you couldn't even tell that there was a horse on the track. There was a buzz in the air down the way when Darla straightened out and shot forward like a slingshot. Brooks glanced down at the stopwatch held in his hand. She was putting down lightning times for a filly that had just come off of the DL list.

Darla was absolutely skimming over the top of the dirt track, her legs dark blurs beneath her elegant form. Ripley leaned close, kept her hands silent and let the filly do as she wanted. To run and run very fast. Ripley's eyes squinted as Darla went from fast to extremely fast with a snap of the fingers. The bay with the wild mane and the clever looking blinkers stormed beneath the wire, legs reaching for still more. She cruised into the clubhouse turn once again, silent as a ghost with only dust to mark her presence.

The buzz grew louder when Darla cruised into her sixth furlong and seventh merely in a gallop out. Brooks was in shock, looking down at the times. :57 3/5ths for the five furlongs, 1:07 2/5th for the six furlongs and 1:24 for the seven furlongs. All under wraps. Ripley hadn't even moved. He looked up as Indian Darling cantered back down the homestretch, looking as peaceful as ever.

Ripley rubbed the filly's neck, calling her all sorts of complimentary things. This was a brilliant filly when she was on her game. And Ripley was more positive than ever that halting her two year old season had been the right thing to do. She patted Darla's neck as they slowed to a trot bringing them back around the clockers, past them and through the gap at a springy walk. The male eyes followed Darla and Ripley as she passed. Just as she had been on the track, the filly was silent. She wasn't even breathing when she headed back to the barn. Silent as a dream.

Brooks ducked around people and caught up with Ripley. Swiftly reading the times off. Fifty seven and three fifths for the five, 1:07 and two fifths for the six, 1:24 and change for the seven. I don't know about you Ripley, but this filly just about blew me out of the water. Ripley stared down at the cat-like filly. I didn't even lay my hands on her. All under wraps Brooks. How scary is that?

Brooks shrugged and stared straight ahead. Very.