Fight Club. [Ripley/Nick/Others]

[Cavallo]

<sub>Nick was driving like a madman, his stomach rolling in tight nauseous knots. Damn this weather! Nick cursed as his eyes strained to see out the windshield as the cold sleet pelted against the glass. He didn't feel the cold, but he did feel cold inside. He'd never in his life had heard Ripley sound the way she did. She was so confident and collected, arrogant even, but that was not the voice that had pleaded with him to come over. It was The Devil. She had gone into labor and there were complications. He knew how important The Devil was to her and he almost berated himself for having arranged a situation that put her beloved demon mare in this precarious situation. He felt responsible and though Ripley had said the vet had been called, he still felt the pressing need to be present for the rest of the ordeal.

His foot was made out of lead as his truck roared over the asphalt and he covered the many miles between the two farms in no time flat. He didn't bother with grabbing his jacket, but forcefully pushed the door open and sprinted toward the warm barn lights that glowed in the distance. He ran into the barn, eyes adjusting to the sudden brightness, hair dripping from the rain and eyes wildly looking about. He quickly zeroed in on a wild commotion and didn't waste a second to sprint down the barn aisle. He stopped at the stall door and gasped.

Things didn't look so good. Ripley was a mess and the stall was torn up like a fight had taken place. His eyes locked though on the barn owner as she tended to her wild-eyed mare and he didn't have many words.</sub>

[Ripley]

~Flashback~

Ice pelted the roof over head in a furious clash of nature versus man-made. Darkness did not reach into the broodmare barn even though the watch on Ripley's wrist declared that it was 3 o'clock in the morning. Her eyes were bloodshot from exhaustion, her body was slumped on top of an air mattress. The book she had been reading had long since been dropped to the mattress, the bookmark way on the other side of the bed. She'd lost interest. Her stomach was growling with furious hunger, but she would not leave the barn. Her stores of snacks had been depleted until all that was left was a stale box of Saltine crackers. Ripley couldn't bring herself to eat them. She was too tired to eat, too tired to move.

But she could not go to sleep.

The wind was howling outside. Winter threatened ominously to break in and ruin the warm comfort of the barn. Since Ripley's arrival Malcolm and Adele had left for food, the mares had fallen asleep and Ripley was the only soul at Witch Creek Stable awake. Why she had a huge sense of forboding, Ripley did not know. Everything was calm and quiet. She climbed to her feet, forcing her eyes apart just a little, wishing that she was a cartoon character who could use clothespins to keep her eyes open. She paced the stall row, stroking El Sol del Mar's kindly head as it hung over the stall door. The chestnut mare's eyes flickered to life, but she did not awaken fully. Ripley moved on to check on the newborns.

Apache's Shadow and TizNow had given birth early at 12 AM and 1 AM respectively. Apache's Shadow's dark colt slept beneath her jet black body. The mare hovered, eyes shut tight and mouth drooping in a sheer look of exhaustion. Her birthing had gone extremely well and the Canjun Moon colt looked absolutely beautiful even at this gangly stage. Ripley moved to the next stall where the protective TizNow stood four-poster over her slim, greyhound of a colt. The Frontier colt was light in color compared to Shadow's colt, but he was a light bay nonetheless. He reminded her of Fiery Touch's color in a way. TizNow pinned her ears in warning at Ripley from the center of the stall, but did not budge an inch. Ripley would never dream of going in that stall just yet. Especially after seeing TizNow drive Malcolm to his knees in order to escape the stall. Ripley watched TizNow's ear flick sideways as a muted bang down the corridor sounded. Ripley backed up, glanced down the row, chills whipping up her spine. 

TizNow nickered worriedly as a muffled distressed neigh sounded. Ripley barely breathed as she dashed down the row. There could only be one horse making such a noise. The only horse that Ripley did not want to be alone with during a foaling. The only horse that was due within this week. The Devil's Touch. The breath backed up in Ripley's lungs as she reached the stall to stare inside. The Devil's dark coat was sleek with sweat, her eyes were wary and frantic at once. She bolted for the door, but it was not a show of aggression this time. Fear caused Ripley's heart to stop. Fear was reflected in The Devil's eyes. Ripley stood shell-shocked in place as the mare seemed to beg with her eyes for help, for anything. She skittered away, neighing with such force and pain that Ripley's heart almost broke.

The Touch Up daughter went down in a thunderous demonstration of exhaustion. Her stomach rippled with giant contractions, her wrapped tail flapped worriedly against the soiled straw. Her water had broken. The foal was coming. But Ripley was more positive than ever that she did not want to go through this alone. It wasn't aggression that Ripley was now worried about. It wasn't The Devil's history of attempts to kill her defenseless foals. It was the fact that the mare was showing no sign of fury at all. She was showing signs of surrender. 

When her neigh ripped through the air with a piercing desperation, Ripley finally broke out of her frozen state. She bolted as the mares called anxiously back. Her fingers fumbled for the phone, shaking and cold. Her face pale as the winter snow outside. Her voice shook fearfully as she dialed a number, any number. A voice sounded at the end of line, calm, but not calming. N-n-nick... Please come. Please hurry. Please do something. Something's terribly wrong with The Devil. I need a vet. I need help. Please hurry.. A scream sounded down the row of stalls, filling the call with its horror and terror. Ripley did not bother to go on. She slammed a frantic finger against the hang up button. Nick Landing had heard enough. He would come. She had to believe he would come.

She whipped open the stall door, green eyes flaring to life with horror at the scene before her. Blood pulsed from beneath The Devil's tail. It spattered the straw, her body as she struggled. Ripley did not dare to grab the shoulder length gloves. She had to help now. She darted down beside The Devil. Easy girl. Please. Shh. Pretty girl. I'll help. I'll help you through this. Ripley leaned down and inserted her hand up to her elbow into The Devil. The mare snorted furiously, attempting to shake Ripley off. Ripley placed her other hand on the mare's hip. Come on girl. Not right now. The dark mare flailed back to the straw, nostrils flaring rapidly in and out. Terror sliced Ripley's heart when she realized the true nature of the problem. The baby was caught. It's head was stuck beneath its leg. The legs were tearing up The Devil. The baby was alive. Ripley could clearly feel her heart beating, could clearly feel the anger of the little one. It shocked Ripley to find the foal alive when The Devil was losing so much blood and oxygen.

Alright Devil. Everything's gonna be okay. Please just stay still. I'll help you. You and the baby. I'm sorry pretty girl. I shouldn't have promised that extra breeding. Ripley leaned down, struggling to get a grip on the foal as her mother clearly weakened. The mare snorted, struggled to stand. Ripley gasped as her arm was twisted at an awkward angle just as she caught the foal's head in her hand. Please Devil. Please. The mare shuddered as a contraction rippled through her, pushing the foal toward a hole that her body was not prepared to go through. Blood doused Ripley's arm and pants. Alright Devil. We've got to start remembering things. I'll tell you a story. You should remember it well. You were there with me. Remember our last start together at two. Year Eight. Remember how big and powerful we were together. You rippled with muscle and I was terrified in my second Breeders Cup race. You gave me strength girl. You were everything to me that year. You still are. We tore through that season like nothing could ever stop us. The Breeders Cup was going to be our demonstration against the world. We entered that gate and I felt so confident and scared at the same time, but you girl, you knew we were going out there to win. You had that look in your eye and the minute you broke from the gate you settled just like you were supposed to. I never felt more powerful in my life than that very moment. And the final turn came and I was sitting on an explosive. You gave the signal, not me. You grabbed that bit and took off four wide off of the turn. You were like a cannon. You rolled to victory in a sheer demonstration of power and control and strength. You were the horse of the moment and my horse of the year. 

The Devil's breaths were coming slower. She'd stopped struggling half-way through the tale. Ripley would have celebrated her ah-ha moment if she could have, but The Devil was weak. The foal was in position now. I need you to have strength now Devil. Come on girl! Ripley groaned, pulling hard in hopes that The Devil would respond and find some niggle of strength. The foal started coming then. The Devil whinnied weakly into the straw, but she pushed as Ripley pulled. They matched each other in tandem as they had on the track. The foal finally pulled loose, covering Ripley's lap in fluid and blood. Ripley did not have long to celebrate. The foal, a filly, thrashed wildly in Ripley's arms, bolting, in what had to be record time, to her hooves. Ripley ducked as the hooves flashed close to her face. The dark filly bolted toward The Devil. Ripley lurched blocking the rapidly deteriorating mare from her dangerous foal. The Devil just blinked, sides heaving. As Ripley forced the filly away. It wasn't hard. She was light even in her fury. She fumbled her way to the back of the stall, leaving Ripley to collapse at The Devil's head.

The mare groaned in pain, eyes flaring to life in nerves and terror. Footsteps pounded down the hallway, but Ripley would not leave The Devil. She stared up at Nick Landing as he rounded into the open stall. Her eyes were huge in her white face. Blood spattered her clothes, the mare, the foal, the straw. It was a horror scene. Ripley could not bring herself to look at the filly who glared defiantly at the intruder, the savaged mare and the desperate woman.


P-p-please tell me you called the vet. And then Ripley broke.

Tears poured down her face and all she could do was switch her gaze from Nick to the mare before her. 

[Cavallo]

<sub>Nick physically felt the wind exhale out of his body in shock. He had witnessed countless births and yes there was blood, but never this much. He suddenly sprung into action. He looked about the stall, saw the still dark filly in the corner and made a mental note of it. His eyes locked onto Ripley, his dear friend paralyzed in fear over her beloved mare. He had called the vet, but was too worried about Ripley in the moment. Ripley. Get up. She remained and he steeled his voice with a coldness. She was not going to be of any use to him or the vet if she didn't get her act together. He didn't care a lick about the mare's vicious reputation at the moment. He knew that with this much blood it was two things: a uterine artery rupture or a rectovaginal tear. The rectal area seemed to be whole, but he was no vet and he wasn't about to risk getting close to the tempered mare and having her thrash about. They had to keep The Devil as still as possible. They needed her blood to clot and the slightest movement could continue to agitate whatever the injury was. He started to kneel down by the mare, but paused and pulled back, torn. He desperately wanted to get close, but knew it wasn't wise. She could move wildly at his approach and touch and it would only make this situation ten times more dire than what it already was. He had to get Ripley to move, to think. Ripley Marsh if you don't get up right now and snap out of it you will loose The Devil. Don't make me slap you. His tone was harsh, but he needed Ripley to return to the land of the living...to think.

The vet is almost here, I called him as soon as you hung up on me. He hovered in the stall door and got an idea. He had to get her body moving. Ripley. Go get me some towels and a bottle. Clean up and hurry. You're going to be the only one who can keep The Devil calm enough for the doctor to work on her., He snapped and started to half-way enter the stall going to the left side where a dark newborn filly glowered at him. He was a safe distance from The Devil his body still partially blocking the entry. His eyes watched the dark mare resting on the straw, her coat was matted with the sweat of labor and tainted with the stickiness of blood. It looked like a horror show. With a breath of relief he saw the lights turn on behind her green eyes and he almost sighed in relief. The filly looked fine and as soon as the vet got her to work with Ripley, he'd immediately go and check on The Devil's filly. He cursed. What a mess this had all become. Ripley was coming back and he heard the slam of a truck door and the pounding run of feet. The vet was here and the battle for life was in full swing.</sub>

[Ripley]

Ripley was stunned into shock at the side of her prized mare. Her hands were chilled to the bone, her skin so pale it looked nearly translucent. The tears had stopped, diamonds sparkling on her cheeks from the ones that had touched air. Her emotions were dead. All that was left was pure silence. The filly in the corner made some scuffling noises, but it was a dull roar touching Ripley's ear drum. She could hear nothing except The Devil's heavy breathing, see nothing but the pain that glinted in the mare's usually furious gaze. Ripley had no fear of this horse. She had raised her from a filly and though her nature was unpredictable at times, now she would be nothing but calm. Ripley slowed stroked a hand down the mare's glinting cheekbone. The mare snorted, nostrils flaring in and out. Her intelligence was demonstrated by her stillness. The Devil was not completely ruled by instinct.

She hardly comprehended the words that Nick was speaking at her. She looked at him with a scary blankness, a blankness she had only felt once before upon learning that her parents had been ripped away from her without even a hint of warning. His emotion was cold, his gaze unfriendly. She tilted her head, wondering over it and then wondering over the change in his physique as it turned aggressive. A cold fire lit up her cat-green eyes and she whipped to her feet. The Devil shifted, ear twitching to follow her human's aggressive movement. Ripley glared with all the loathing she could muster at her friend. You won't lay your hands on me Nicholas Landing. You've already done enough. She practically spat the words at him, shifting her gaze to the lean filly glaring from the corner. All she saw was Anarchi when she looked at this one. It was wrong somehow that The Devil could put so much effort into producing a filly that looked only like her sire. Her gaze hardened when Nick spoke to her again, this time with authority. Her muscles stiffened instinctively. 

Thanks. I'll get them for you to polish off that foal. Disgust laced Ripley's tone and she did not look at the filly. She could not forget the hatred that had festered in those dark eyes. Not even The Devil has possessed such an intense look as a baby. And Ripley would know. She'd helped Thanks for the Memories birth the mare so many years ago, yet it felt like yesterday. And it's not The Devil you should worry about. She's intelligent enough to keep calm. She likes the vet. But watch the foal. Muttering, Ripley walked swiftly back to the tack room, sweat beading on her brow. She could not belong. Like Nick had said, The Devil would need her. She operated mechanically and without though. Mixing the foal formula into a bottle, setting the towels on an electric towel warmer. Her gaze remained distant. She heard footsteps coming from the opposite direction of the barn from where The Devil's stall was. Someone had come, but she couldn't move.
...
Brooks' heart pounded nervously as he walked quickly down the barn row. All of the lights were on and the mares were wide awake. What caused his fears to dance was the smell of blood and terror. His inner ear beat from his hypersensitivity. He nearly marched right on by the tack room without a glance. A flash of red-black caught his eye and he quickly halted in his steps. Horror curdled in his stomach as a glazed-eyed Ripley turned to face him, towels gripped in one hand, a foal's bottle in the other. Drying blood doused her front, from her cheeks to her boots. It looked as though she had come through a war with barely anything left to her name. She stared right through him until he moved, hands stretched out to grab her shoulders. His blue-jean colored eyes scoured her face, searching for some emotion, but her pupils were dilating and her body was trembling. She was clearly in shock.

Ripley? What's going on? He crushed her to his chest, not flinching when body racking sobs whipped through Ripley's form. He held on tight, eyes filling with her pain. What happened? She jerked away as if breaking from her daze, alligator tears drying on her cheeks. She hurtled out of the tack room, booted feet breaking into the run. He heard the slamming of a car door and dashed after her. Ripley stood in the door frame of The Devil's stall. Brooks knew nothing other than terror when he saw the plight that the dark bay mare was in. He narrowed his gaze on the filly who stood proudly on her long legs, noted the critical look in her gaze. He shivered.

Alright.. Where's my patient Miss Marsh? Brooks turned to see Dr. Sanders walking confidently to the stall. His silver hair glinted in the barn light, his blue eyes filled with concern. He ran a hand down the length of Ripley's braided auburn hair, soothing her the way he would a horse. Ah, Devil what have you done now sweet mare.

Brooks cocked an eyebrow at the vet's term. The Devil's Touch was not known for being sweet. However, she nickered when Dr. Sanders crouched beside her muscled frame, pressing a scope to her chest. His eyes grew darker for a second, Brooks felt Ripley sag. She fell against him as if her legs could no longer hold her. Brooks looked up when the vet began to speak, finally noticing the walkee-talkee attached to his hip. Connor. I need bags of intravenous fluids now. And better grab the cooler from the van. We got ourselves a very shocky mare. He moved toward her hind end, running his calm hands down her hardened belly. He nodded to himself, got down on his knees in the soiled bedding. He shook his head, blue eyes turning very solemn. He looked up at the dark skinned young man that walked into the stall. Connor placed the equipment beside Doc before turning to hug Ripley. The woman relaxed briefly in the arms of the boy she had helped to turn into a very promising young man. No worries Rip. We'll save her for you. Ripley touched a hand to his cheek before he turned to return to his boss who was quickly pressing the needle belonging to the fluid bag into a shave spot on her neck. Connor hadn't missed much and he quickly drew out several bags. We'll give this fifteen minutes to work its way through her system. We'll send her system into arrest mode if we give her the sedative right away. Start preparing the blood transfusions Connor. She's suffering from a ruptured uterine artery. 

Connor did not need to be told to keep his expression neutral. He knew Ripley had stiffened straight up and down from fear. One of the worst possible conditions for a birthing mare to have. Dr. Sanders stood up as his intern set to work. He moved toward the passive aggressive filly standing in the corner of the stall. He slid his hands around her damp frame, taking in her eyes and ears and nostrils. She was okay for the moment. He nodded to Brooks who took the towels from a shaking Ripley and headed over to start rubbing the filly down. Doc stepped up to Nicholas Landing and Ripley, voice strong. We just need to get her past the first couple of days of transfusion. He shifted his attention to Nick. The filly is good, but you're going to need to decide on a nurse mare. The Devil will not be able to cope with a foal until she heals. By the time The Devil is ready to take care of the foal, she'll already have latched onto the nurse mare. Better to make an early separation as quick and as painless as possible.

[Cavallo]

Her words stung like a well placed knife twisting into his gut. "You won't lay your hands on me Nicholas Landing. You've already done enough." He winced slightly at her words and those that she flung back at him to go get the supplies he needed. He raked his right hand through his blonde shaggy hair, bedraggled and messy - messy like this entire situation. He only slightly regretted the tone in which he had spoken to her, but she had come somewhat to her senses, he couldn't regret that. He would apologize later when things were more calm as to why he had spoken the way he had, but now was clearly not the time.

She disappeared to go retrieve the requested materials and he stood guard in the stall door. To be quite honest, he had barely even looked at the filly, so great his concern had been for the mother and her distraught owner. He took the moment, with The Devil lying still to watch the dark filly standing quietly and yet so defiantly in the corner. She was covered in the struggle of her birth, dark coat only darker with the added dampness. She stared back at him with such a cold, almost detached sort of look in her eyes. She was all Anarchi in that moment and he couldn't help but shiver with the revelation. He heard a thunder of approaching steps and ripped his gaze away from the filly, that stood her ground resolutely in her corner. He very nearly breathed a sigh of relief when Dr. Sanders was on the scene. He was also comforted to see that Brooks was following Ripley closely as they moved to intersect with the vet.

The vet had wasted no time and he quickly and accurately diagnosed the problem and even felt himself stiffen at the dire reveal The Devil was in. It wasn't a great situation to be in, but the vet had responded quickly and already she was getting the much needed fluids that her body had lost. He had a growing sense that things were going to take a turn for the better. The mare was responding to his presence and though he knew that the mare still had a battle to fight, things would turn for the better...they had to.

After the doctor checked on the filly, he nodded to Brooks to take the towels in from Ripley's hands and the man complied to begin wiping the filly down. He braced himself for more news as the doctor stepped forward to address both him and Ripley together. He sent a concerned glance in the woman's direction, secretly searching her face to see if she still harbored ill will towards him. He didn't have time to discern her mood towards him as the doctor then began to speak. Nick nodded in understanding. Both Admirable and Allure had birthed their colts this past week, their mothering instincts were on high alert and the colts had shown to have voracious appetites. Both mare's milk were flowing and he could see this cold looking filly taking with either. I have two mares that are nursing. I can move her whenever. Just give me the go and it's done. He spoke in a softer more comforting way than before when he'd addressed Ripley. His eyes were clouded with concern. He wanted the best for The Devil, the foal and Ripley. She seemed to still be in her own state of shock and he touched her shoulder lightly with his left hand. Ripley. This is gonna turn out alright. You tell me what course you want to take in dealing the filly. His crystal blue eyes held the warmth that hadn't been there before when he'd barked out orders. He hoped that somehow she would forgive him later. His eyes wandered back to the stall where Conner sat with the mare, she seemed to be resting better. The dark filly squirmed slightly under Brooks hands and he watched intrigued. What had they brought into this world?

[Ripley]

Brooks looked up as Doc talked to Ripley with a patronizing voice. His blue eyes settled on her, filling with concern. She had never looked so shocked in the time he had met her. Perhaps this would be their testing point. He grumbled inwardly, not that the last year hadn't been a testing point. She'd loathed him ever since the failed marriage proposal. She'd barely spoken to him and had only recently shown any of her old feelings toward him upon the retirement of Frozen Motion. He wished everything had been as easy as the first six months of their relationship. The slim wand of a woman needed him and despite the fact she thought that she didn't, Brooks wasn't going to leave her. He stepped back from the passive aggressive filly, shaking the towel out to sprinkle some wetness on the straw. The filly wobbled, but had yet to fall back into the bedding. She was a tough sucker. He wondered why Ripley was sending looks of irritation at the filly, even as the vet spoke to her.

His ears pricked up when Nick Landing offered to ship the filly back to Intrepid to be nursed by one of his two mares. He glanced at Ripley. He wondered if she would object. Her eyes brightened a little as Connor guided the mare to her hooves in order to stand. The mare's eyes were clouded with pain and she groaned. Brooks moved to balance out the mare's weak side. Still peering at Ripley over the mare's rump. The auburn haired woman did not so much as acknowledge Nick Landing's touch to her shoulder. She switched her usually arrogant gaze to him and blinked owlishly.

Witch Creek has no claim on the filly as long as Intrepid is operating. I don't think I want her even Intrepid were to leave. Brooks felt goose bumps rise on his arms at her cold tone. Connor stiffened in surprise at The Devil's head, sending a worried look in his future boss' direction. Sanders hardly blinked though. He'd expected as much from the proud and ever prickly Ripley Marsh. Brooks spoke up. But Ripley we have two mares of our own who have just given birth. Apache's Shadow and TizNow, Nick. He felt a flash of pleasure. Nick had probably heard from Adele. Brooks had received a picture text hours ago with the black and bay foals front and center. Intrepid mares who will undoubtedly return to Intrepid once their colts are weaned. Ripley's eyes were narrowed on Brookson, betrayal flickering in their depths. Couldn't he see how much the dangerous filly bothered her? Did he want the foal that had nearly killed her prized mare on Witch Creek property? Her eyes were so sharp that could have cut glass.

Sanders shrugged. The filly will need someone balancing her in a trailer. She's not quite strong enough or knowledgeable enough to not be afraid. Got anyone like that Nick? Sanders knew Ripley was not going to change her mind about keeping The Devil's filly at Witch Creek. He had known the woman since she'd been an apprentice trainer. He'd known her through the death of her parents, had seen her not accept anyone's help out of fear of being pitied. He rubbed Ripley's arm as he passed out of the stall. He had to record what had happened with The Devil on a voice recorder. He could not do so in the tension filled stall. You two should step into the office. Your tension is going to affect the filly. Brooks can give the filly her first bottle. But you, Nick and you, Ripley have to decide the filly's immediate future. He left, coat flapping in the wind as he moved rapidly to his car.

Ripley cocked an eyebrow, sent one furtive look at Brooks and then the sedated Devil and marched to her stall. Let's go then. Brooks sent a look Nick's way. He would not apologize for Ripley's coldness. She would feel bad eventually, especially because Nick was such a close friend. Intrepid's owner had to understand the woman's feelings, but Brooks got the hint that something more had happened with The Devil and her foal. Something Ripley was not sure she wanted to reveal. He heard the soft tinkling of keys as Ripley opened the office door for herself and Nick. Then a soft click as the door shut behind the pair. Some night, right Connor?

He nodded. You can say that again. 

[Cavallo]

<sub>She was so cold. Even to his touch, which she didn't even acknowledge, except to turn towards him with a cool open gaze. He read nothing there, but he decided not to press anything right now. She'd just gone through a traumatic experience and her entire presentation revealed that. The blood had long since dried and started to cake and crack on her clothes - she didn't even know how horrifying she looked, all covered in dried blood and a cold wide open gaze. His heart ached for his friend and he couldn't help, but to feel only slightly responsible for the situation they were in. If he hadn't traded for this brood, The Devil would never have been in this situation.

He pulled his hand back as Ripley bit out her reply, to Sander's query about what to do with the filly at hand. There was a cold undercurrent of hate and disdain that fed her words regarding The Devil's filly. A puzzled expression clouded his features and he felt the tension rise to an uncomfortable degree."Witch Creek has no claim on the filly as long as Intrepid is operating. I don't think I want her even Intrepid were to leave. " What the hell had happened that Ripley would turn so violently on a horse and one that hadn't even been alive for an hour - for Pete's sake! He knew how prickly Ripley could be, knew she was fiercely independent, but never in his life had he seen Ripley Marsh show outright hatred for a horse - people sometimes, but not horses. His brow furrowed in a displeased and confused manner, when Brooks had spoken up. Ah yes. Tizzie and Shadow were both present on the grounds. Adele had texted him earlier that morning, announcing the birth of two colts to race for Witch creek. The mares would be nursing and he was certain that one of them wouldn't mind taking in another young one...

He looked over at Ripley to see the crippling look she threw at him. She really didn't want this filly her at Witch Creek, but again the serious question was why? Sanders asked if there could be someone to ride with the filly, if she was to be trailered and he immediately thought about Adele. Shouldn't she be here on the property somewhere? Nick, brow still furrowed in thought and wariness, nodded in the affirmative to the doc. If Ripley is hell-bent on getting this filly gone, I can make it happen.

The doc seemed to also sense the tension and offered wisdom in ordering the two of them to go to the office and hash it out. It was a wise idea indeed. He turned and followed Ripley without much of a second glance to anyone or anything. He was determined to get to the bottom of this situation and to figure out why Ripley was acting so passionately against the filly.

The door clicked shut behind them and he looked about the office casually before turning to focus his clouded blue eyes on her. Ripley... he paused, trying to formulate the right kind of words, Ripley, I'm sorry about all this. There he'd opened the door with a simple comment and he was going to continue to press forward while he had some kind of momentum. I'm sorry this all happened, but you aren't acting yourself when you talk about The Devil's filly. What happened? He wanted to add on, for you to hate a horse? But he decided against that. They were here to come to a solution about what to do with The Devil's filly, not to stir up strife. What was done, was done.</sub>

[Ripley]

Ripley sat down in her leather study chair behind the mahogany desk. Her pale fingers formed a teepee where the tips connected. Her green eyes were quiet as she took in the soothing scents of the flowers Reese had decorated all of the apartments and offices and the smell of the horse hair blanket recently used on El Sol del Mar. The chestnut mare had been the perfect partner in traversing the extensive Witch Creek hills. Few people understood the way Ripley felt about her horses. After their careers, they were treated like kings and queens. Racing was Ripley's passion, but the horse was her soul. Ripley had never held such strong feelings toward a horse than she did the Anarchi filly. Even knowing that The Devil was in the most proper and top-notch care did not calm Ripley's boiling worry. 

The look of pure murder had so filled the eyes of that foal minutes after birth that Ripley had been nearly scared out of her mind. When the filly had blown by her to go towards The Devil's head, little hooves beating over the bloodied straw, Ripley had nearly been frozen in shock. It had only been the roaring need to protect that had Ripley dodging to protect the mare she loved. A second later and the filly's hooves would have crashed down upon the mare's skull with a eternal aftermath. Ripley blew a great breath through her lips from the memory, briefly remembered sending the filly skittering to the back corner with a push that would have sent a lesser foal tumbling to the ground. There was something about that filly that was dangerous, something that made Ripley want to get her off of the property as soon as possible.

She looked up as Nick addressed her, his eyes flickering with worry and apology. He was a dear friend under any other circumstance, but at the moment if felt like an ocean was spread out between them. She wanted to say that she was sorry for her own behavior, sorry for her shocked shell. But she wasn't. Ripley's nose crinkled. She wasn't sorry at all. She was furious at herself for breeding The Devil one too many times. She should have known that it would be tempting fate for a hopefully successful birth. You know Nick... I think I may have been selfish with this last birth. There was so little room for error. If it had been like the other foalings, I would have been able to stop her. And perhaps that is why I was punished this round. For being too immodest. Who am I to get in the way of fate? Who am I to have prevented Hourglass's death, from The Devil ending Saint's weak beginning, and Incognito's set in stone funeral? She sighed, her voice weak from exhaustion. For once the energizer bunny was gone in a puff of smoke.

She met Nick in the eyes. Why would I think I could stop The Devil this time? She let out a sorrowful laugh. And then of course it wasn't The Devil at all I had to worry about, but her filly. Ripley shook her head, so tired that she was beginning to find the situation horrifically amusing. You know Nick. I've never seen a newborn foal attack a horse, particularly their own dam. What kind of foal as the strength to hurl itself to its hooves, to plunge so surely toward the head of their struggling mother and rear up in an attempt to crush her head? Ripley's words vibrated through the air, her gaze distant. I almost froze up, but I snapped awake to protect my mare. I threw myself just in time to block your filly from crushing in my mare's head. Ripley shook her own, eyes filling with awareness. Now you tell me, why would I want such a horse on my property? 

[Cavallo]

<sub>He sat himself comfortably down. His question had been voiced and now he was preparing himself for an answer. She seemed a bit more relaxed in the soothing environment of her own office. He studied her carefully as he read her face with his apology. There was no apology in her eyes and he knew better than to hope for that from Ripley. He knew that she hadn't wanted to let The Devil have another foal, but she had made an exception for him - he honestly didn't have a better business partners than with WCS and SOPS. She could be pissed at the situation and he wasn't going to blame her. She was going to need time to cool off after this whole ordeal. She wrinkled her nose at him, as if she'd just caught a whiff of pure bitterness and remorse. He steeled his emotions and braced himself for a barrage of words of stinging sarcasm or anger even...She spoke and he listened. He could only imagine that fury she felt at herself for allowing this situation, but honestly how were any of them to know that this situation was going to turn so dire?

Her words held an aching sense of self-bereavement and then he watched as the usual Ripley fire faded tiredly from her eyes and she paused. He leaned forward, elbows braced on his knees and hands folded casually in front of him, waiting. He wasn't going to press her, he could feel her tiredness eating at him, threatening to suck the very energy out of the marrow of his bones. The heaviness that had been residing within the green-eyed woman now came to settle into the room and onto him.

She spoke again, his blue eyes locked onto hers, hanging onto every sorrowful words that was sung from those tired and wry lips. Her story settled like a hot-brand on his mind. It wasn't him she was pissed with. The revelation almost a physical relief to his tense body, but he didn't relish in it for long. Ripley had every right to want the filly off her property. To have the filly hanging around, a constant reminder as the near cause of loss for her beloved mare. Hell. He wouldn't have wanted the filly around either. He exhaled the breath that he hadn't even been aware he'd been holding and slouched back into the chair with a groan. Oh Crap. His right hand raised to his face to rub the morning stubble that had darkened his jaw. He sat there, saying nothing as he let the entire situation sink in. If Ripley was right, he had set himself up - and not in the good way. Maybe this was his punishment for pressing too far, too soon to have his way.

He slowly nodded his head in understanding. The filly can come back with me. Fortunately, he'd taken the stable's truck and there was always a trailer attached to it. He'd cursed a few times about it on the drive over, having to slow down on the ice slicked roads in his rush to arrive here. Is Adele still here? He could have Adele either drive the truck or ride with the filly - which he wasn't sure. He looked back again at Ripley, his eyes trying to latch on to a sense of reality. This dangerous filly that Ripley had described, was not the one that had been wobbling about as Brooks had rubbed her down. It was almost to unreal, too weird. If she's here, the two of us can figure a way to get the filly off the grounds. His tone was flat and emotionless. He wasn't in the mood to argue with Ripley to wait. He was here, he had a trailer and hopefully an extra set of hands. And that was that.</sub>

[Ripley]

Ripley should have been pleased with Nick's willingness to remove the filly as quickly and efficiently as possible. For some contradictory reason, though, she was not. He was a good person, a great horseman and he knew that once a woman or man was set on disliking a horse that was the end of whatever good relationship had existed. She hated the idea that she could dislike the Anarchi x The Devil's Touch filly. It wasn't in her blood to hate a horse. She hadn't even gotten a good look at the foal beyond the pushing and shoving that had taken place immediately after her birth. Ripley's fingers tapped anxiously on wood as she tried to make a decision with her sleep deprived brain. She rolled her shoulders and nodded at Nick, calm finally touching her gaze.

I'm glad you came Nick. Few other people would have run straight into the unknown like you. She sighed. You know, we both looked forward to the birth of this particular filly. She has excellent bloodlines and Saintly Touch will give us some knowledge as to how effective she might be over the dirt when he starts this season. I have no doubts she will be effective. Saint has proven to be quite remarkable in his training. The Devil appears to be the defining horse in both of her racing age foals as Sand Storm was not completely remarkable of a race horse. You are better off taking her though. If she's anything as dangerous as Anarchi, you can keep her.

Ripley paused, stood up to look out the office window. She saw the flash of headlights, heard the squeal of tires. That would be Malcolm and Adele right now. They went to fetch some breakfast. Again, might I emphasize the fact that the Devil as uncanny timing? Each time she births I am always alone. A smile touched her lips at the memories, a tinge of fear traced them as she didn't know if her mare would quite make it just yet. It's too dangerous for you to truck that filly back to your barn. I didn't realize it was so icy outside. Dr. Sanders usually has chains on his tires. She chuckled. The filly can stay the night in a separate stall from her mom. I can call Justin and Laura over and they'll babysit her. Neither of them are galloping this morning anyway. 

She heard the running footsteps of her weanling and yearling handler. I have a spare bedroom in my cabin. You're more than welcome to spend the night and leave once you come up with a plan. Ripley's body stiffened when the door hurtled open and she caught a glimpse of the black coated stranger. Malcolm's blue eyes flashed dangerously and looked as if he could have slaughtered Nick without lifting a finger. He circled the desk, lifted Ripley off of her feet and gave her a rib-breaking hug. You smell horrible. Now what happened and why is he here?

Ripley slapped a hand to Mal's muscled chest and forced him away with her strength reserves. He glared at her, but switched an uneasy glance at the doorway. Ripley knew Adele would be coming any second. The two of them had been inseparable for the days she'd been staying at Witch Creek. Nick's here because The Devil gave birth to a filly... And she can't take care of her. He'll be taking the filly home with him to nurse on his own mares. Mal's blue eyes narrowed. He wasn't too trusting of Nick Landing. He always wondered over the man's friendship with Ripley, even though Ripley had told him repeatedly that Nick was interested in Amber Black. And she herself was too busy worrying over Brooks. Well. They aren't leaving tonight. He said, crossing his arms. Adele can stay with me and Nick can stay in Adele's room. Ripley scoffed.

They can choose their own places to sleep Malcolm. Mal's fiery eyes flickered dangerously into Ripley's sharp ones. He smiled, slapped her on the back. There's my boss. Ripley rolled her eyes, sent a smile in Nick's direction. I need to wash up before we go take a real look at that filly Nick. And you can see the colts. 

Mal... Where's my breakfast? Mal nodded in Adele's direction and heard Ripley's stomach grumbling at the scent.You eat, wash up and I'll go feed the horses since it's six in the morning. He kissed Adele's cheek on the way out, sending a defiant glance in Nick's direction, a glance that Ripley couldn't miss. She stifled her laugh and sat in her chair. 

[Cavallo]

<sub>So there was the decision. The Anarchi x Devil filly would be coming home early with him. He almost growled at himself for not bringing Ethan with him. He'd been in such a rush that he hadn't even told his yearling and weanling handler that he was going to see about one of their foals. It probably wouldn't have mattered though, he had been on a foal watch with Rosalind. She was heavy with twins, a rare occurrence that had only happened once with his beloved mare and that had resulted in Bucephalus and Requiem. He had high hopes for the foals and the only thing that had torn him from his beloved mare had been the sheer terror, panic and horror he'd heard in Ripley's voice when she'd called him. Darn mares all had to be foaling this week. He brought his mind back to the present, Adele had to be here somewhere and she'd have to help him get the filly home.

He paused his thoughts as he saw the calm settling on Ripley. He felt his own tension ease with her growing self of calm. They had too good of a friendship for him to take her earlier self to heart. Ripley was the kind of woman, rough around the edges, but secretly harbored a heart of gold. He could only begin to imagine how she herself might be puzzled by her reaction to the filly. He watched her as she went to the window and saw the flash of headlights. Someone had arrived and Ripley soon announced that her weanling and yearling handler had arrived, in tow with one of his jockeys. His eyebrow arched in surprise. Despite the fact, that Nick made it a core value for his team to be like family, he was still shocked by a subtle implication in Ripley's voice. It was the way she said their names together, like they were two halve of the same whole. He knew that Adele had asked for a few days off and since she'd never asked that of him before, he'd willingly let her go, he hadn't asked where she would go, but she'd told him that she was going to go over to Witch Creek to watch their mares give birth. He hadn't minded, in fact, he'd been pleased that a member of Intrepid would be present at their mare's birthing, but now he suspected there was an alternative motive. He sat quietly and kept those thoughts to himself, drawn back to Ripley as she attempted to joke about the Devil birthing while she was alone. He gave her a wry, comforting grin in response and had slowly uncurled his long length to stand up straight and tall. He was a good eight inches taller than Ripley and he looked down at her with that same wry look on his face as she offered for him to stay on the grounds. He nodded in acceptance of her offer. He was too beat to drive back in this weather and he sure as hell didn't want Adele to drive in these conditions.

Thank you. The last thing I need right now is to be tired and slide off the road. He teased back lightly to the woman, hoping to keep her thoughts on lighter subjects, rather than the Devil and her situation. The door suddenly burst open and a tall, dark featured man had charged into the room, taking control of the space and circled past him, around Ripley's desk to smother her in an all-encompassing hug. His eyebrows raised slightly at the fiercely protective nature of the man and then he grinned all to easily at the glare the man had thrown his way. Normally it wasn't Nick's nature to truly instigate things with a stranger, but this guy was making it too easy. He crossed his arms and relaxed himself into a comfortable position with his weight leaning back on his right heel. He nodded as cool as anything, completely unruffled by this man's outspoken distrust and dislike of him. What bee got in his bonnet? He pondered silently, but only found himself more intrigued than put off by his actions.

He was really trying not to laugh when the man started to make demands from the slight woman. He worked here. He should know that that approach wouldn't work and as Ripley pushed the man back and explained his presence, he couldn't help, but give the man an infuriating wink with his right eye, an easy smile on his face. Why was ruffling this man's feathers so enjoyable to him in this moment? Well. It kind of made sense. Adele was his responsibility and he often felt like a big brother to the tall, willowy jockey. He felt himself measuring this man up, this Malcolm. He didn't know exactly what to think, but it hadn't taken him long to bristle when he'd ordered that he and Adele weren't leaving. Nick wasn't the type to be ordered about and he let a defiant twitch in his jawline dance and it continued to dance as he mandated where he would sleep and that Adele would stay with him in his room. Like hell she was.

Ripley had diffused the slight tension and put her man in place and he was glad. He didn't know how exactly he would have reacted, but it wouldn't have been becoming. He let the tension ease from him again as Adele appeared in the door. He sent the woman a tired, but endearing look. He was glad she was okay...this crazy had probably driven like a maniac on the ice slicked roads...endangering her. He wasn't impressed so far with Adele choice of a man. Thank you Ripley. He had said with clear sarcasm, that he'd been given the choice where to sleep, like a human being given the right to breath. I don't want to put Adele out of her room. She's already set up. I'll take the spare room you offered. I have some clothes and things in my truck. He sent Malcolm an almost defiant look and barely heard Ripley as she mentioned cleaning up and viewing the new colts. He nodded as Adele walked across the room to hand Ripley her breakfast. She sent a timid look in her boss' direction, concerned with the uncharacteristic behavior he was displaying. She stepped back to the door and waited to speak to Nick alone. Malcolm took to ordering Ripley about again and paused on his way out the door to kiss Adele on the cheek. He wasn't blind to the challenging look in his eyes and if he'd been a wolf, his chest would have rumbled with a challenging growl, but he just returned the glare and once he'd let the room he threw his hands up into the air in mock surrender.

Really Adele, of all the men you could have had drooling at your feet, you had to pick one that has it out for me? He growled gruffly, with mock frustration and he opened his arms up to the small woman.

Adele had blushed deeply at Mal's public display towards her. She couldn't say that she hadn't enjoyed it, but the look on Nick's face knew she had some serious damage control to do. She nodded to Ripley almost apologetically, but seeing Nick return to his more joking ways didn't hesitate to greet her boss with a hug. Nick was like the older brother she'd never had. Being the only child, it had taken her time to accept that the crew at Intrepid was family and she wouldn't have traded them for anything.

Just ignore Mal. He's a good guy I promise...just a bit...overprotective... Nick rolled his eyes as he released the small woman from his embrace. Just a little...geez. He chuckled and stepped back. Well. While Ripley gets cleaned and settled, I'm gonna go do the same. His nose cringed slightly looking at the manure covered Adele. You might wanna do the same. She laughed, punching Nick playfully in the arm. Whatever. I'm gonna go help Malcolm and then I'll get cleaned up. She turned on her heels and quickly left the room again to just Nick and Ripley. She had an earful to give Mal.

He turned crystal blue eyes to her green ones. What an interesting morning. He teased and dug for his truck keys in his pockets. I'll let you do your thing and we'll meet up later? He made a mental note to text Amber later and let her know where he was and why. The last thing he needed was for her to get the wrong idea about his crashing in a spare room on Ripley's property...</sub>

[Ripley]

Ripley was not usually a girl for drama, but, man, she loved catching up on her soap-operas in real time. Her cat-green eyes were bright with interest as Mal and Nick faced off over a very, quiet and sweet Adele. She almost wanted to grab a bucket of popcorn, her favorite sweats and kick up her feet on the desk. She barely noticed her blood-stained clothes as she watched Nick send an infuriating wink in Mal's direction. She twirled her pancake on the fork, doing very well in hiding her laughter. This was absolutely the best thing that had happened all morning. She grinned when Mal sauntered from the room, leaving a pleasantly surprised Adele behind. The woman was so quietly demure compared to the women at Witch Creek who would have returned that sizzling kiss. Well every woman except Ripley who felt Mal was more a brother than an employee or potential lover.

Plus she had her old flame waiting just outside the office. Her green eyes narrowed beyond Nick, puzzling over what she would do about a certain Brookson Wells. She'd run into his arms like she would have run into his arms a year ago. She could smell trouble on the wind. She tilted her head at Nick, nipping her pancake from the metal fork. Her eyes danced with playfulness.

If I didn't have my own sisterly feelings toward Mal, I would have jumped on that particular train a long time ago. Ripley loved getting in a good jab now and then, loved to make the guys feel slightly off balance. Mal's really a good guy, but he has his doubts over you. Ripley threw her fork into the cardboard, feeling satisfied by the sound of emptiness. Her first real meal in a day, courtesy of Suzy. Fantastic to say the least. She skirted around Nick, pausing to cross her arms. He just finds it strange why Nick Landing would rather stay in Ripley's home than in a solitary apartment by himself. Pure male suspicion after all. Like yours for him. Only he's much more of a... threat. Her white teeth flashed in a taunting smile. Everyone knows your wrapped up around Amber's pinkie. Not a bad thing. First of our age group to be taken off of the market.

Oh... it sure has been an interesting morning. Interesting barely covered the real situation. Yeah... that's fine. Just meet me here in a half-hour... Her gaze simmered as her eyes met Brooks. The blonde man was eyeing her with something dangerous. She nodded curtly to Nick and stalked aggressively out of the barn and toward her cabin. Brooks followed like a herding dog, stuck to her stubbornly. She flew up the steps and barely had her hand on the door when Brooks whipped her around and kissed her roughly on the mouth. Her mind went blank, truly blank. Heat overwhelmed her and she could have counted herself down for the count for the third time tonight. 

He pulled back, easing away and torturing her. Her green eyes were a shade of hunter green from lust. I'm staying over tonight when that guy is gone, Ripley Marsh. And there will be no argument. He twisted the knob with a flick of the wrist, blue eyes sparking with a challenge. He marched into the house, leaving a stunned Ripley Marsh to follow.