Post by Ripley on Apr 10, 2015 13:04:20 GMT -5
As We Planned
featuring: Saintly Touch
mission: Kentucky Derby
Reese was wired with caffeine by the time she hit the barn for the morning workouts. Her life circled around her three year old classic horses. She'd gone from Witch Creek with Spotlight Pride to Saintly Touch at The Wire. She'd rubbed the chestnut colt down, flushed out the quarter he'd grabbed in the Kentucky Open and was in a state of sadness that she would not be riding in the Preakness Champion Stakes this season. Spotlight Pride had run valiantly in defeat from start to finish and would catch his break despite having only a four race campaign. He was exhausted and he needed to start getting ready for a half season that would consist of the Green Mile series.
She brushed thoughts of her talented animal away as she stepped from the truck, breaking up the sleepy world around her. It was five in the morning and the yard was quiet. Her eyes adjusted to the semi-darkness, settling on a trio next to an old oak tree. She wished desperately for her camera in this magical moment. Brooks and Ripley stood beside Saintly Touch, their new baby in Ripley's arms. She could see Keller squirming in the blankets, hands reaching for the muzzle of Ripley's pride and joy.
Saint stood still as stone despite the baby's gurgling, his dark eye gleaming as it passed over the little body to the woman he'd known since birth as well. Ripley held a hand to the colt's black cheek, stroked a finger over his light brown muzzle. Awe filled her eyes as she spoke about her colt. "They say a black horse with a light brown muzzle will give everything they have in battle. I find it fitting that our first real shot at the Derby will come with such a horse." Ripley smiled when Reese stepped up to them, fitted with helmet and half-chaps. "And our rider has arrived. How was Pride?"
"Good. He'll live, but he's wiped. Connor said the foot is fine for now. He vet wrapped it and said to leave him in and hand walk him until it's mostly healed." Ripley nodded. "Good. Ten furlongs may be a bit beyond his distance, but I was hoping he'd gut it out."
"He gave it his all. We have some very hard trying colts this season."
"Including this one. We've got a defeat to avenge in the Derby. Going to be a tough race, but I think we're sitting pretty good."
Ripley stepped back, cuddling Keller to her chest. She kissed his forehead, eyes filling with contentment. It was a stressful time, but Ripley had simply not felt more relaxed in ages. She had to be in order to keep her baby happy. Confidence was everything even when you knew nothing about being a mother. She'd learned that real quick.
Brooks boosted Reese into the small training saddle. The woman settled in, let her legs hang around the colt's trimmed barrel. While Pride was a powder keg, Saintly Touch was a hydrogen bomb, quietly ominous but waiting for the moment to strike. She loved this colt very much, had loved him since their very first gallop together. He had been a juvenile success and had matured so nicely for the big dance. He was Witch Creek's biggest hope for the Kentucky Derby, a race that had proven elusive for them. The near misses was a who's who of Witch Creek. El Sol Del Mar had lost to a one hit wonder. Native Flame had never recovered his phenomenal juvenile form. The Devil's Touch had faltered without the guidance of Ripley. Eternal Phantom had been sold while Ripley was away and had won the roses for Stride Of Perfection Stable. Red Herring had succumbed to his own tricks. In Front and Supernatural had come close, but had been outfooted by Mourning Passion, another former Witch Creek horse.
Reese knew a lot rode on Saint's hulking shoulders. He was a tough horse by the very definition and he would hope to add to the legacy of Touch Up and Night Stalker. Reese patted the colt's neck as he strode for the track, neck bowed and mouth playing with the bit. Brooks spoke quietly to Ripley about Nirvana's prep to be held later at Green Horse Fields. She was the favorite so far, based on her nearly grade two status and the fact that on paper she should beat her rivals. The question would be: could the bay horse get the job done in a race where there was very little pace. Pace seemed to be the name of the game in the classic races. Spotlight Pride had been burned out. Nocturnal Runaway had been forced into traffic thanks to a lack of pace. Witch Creek would have to get a perfect set up.
Luckily, the big race was setting up perfectly for Saintly Touch. So front-runner heavy was the Derby, that Saint would be sitting in fifth for the majority of the ten furlong race. The race would likely be led by Baciami and Dancing Fool, followed by Speak Easy and then the SOPS filly Impressionable. Ripley and Malcolm were almost positive that Intrepid would not be sending Ultimate Revenge to the lead to contest a very hot pace. As far as Saint was concerned, Reese liked her spot. She could watch the front runners and keep her colt comfortable. She also could get a jump on the LeComte Stakes winner, the true nemesis based on recent performances and the fact that he had beaten Saint last out.
Saint stepped onto the track, his dark frame taking shape amid the overlying fog. Brooks let him loose, stepped back as Ripley called instructions. "Just take him around for five furlong work. Around 1:00 will have him sharp enough."
Reese gave a thumbs up, nudged the colt into his jog. He had such a smooth way of going. He was a focused animal, not one to peek around at the different sights and sounds. She'd always appreciated the workmanlike attitude and knew it was part of the reason why Saintly Touch had come so far from a baby. He stepped into a gallop upon asking, his hooves beating over the sand lightly. Quiet and light and athletic. Reese considered Saintly Touch the perfect dance partner.
The pair moved to the rail upon entering the backstretch, Saintly Touch pinning his ears against his neck as he realized he was actually going to get a stiff run today. Reese leaned close, brown eyes focused on the field of brown and white ahead of her. She could hardly see the spectators on the rail and the spectators could hardly see the horse. With a snap of the reins, Saint lit into his running gallop, black tail flying out like a cape.
Ripley could see the dark manifestation of Saintly Touch as he whipped through the first two furlongs in the backstretch. He was moving quite powerfully over the course and despite being some indecipherable figure, he looked good. She bounced Keller in her arms, keeping rhythm with the dark three year old as he headed into the far turn.
Reese was thoroughly impressed as Saint roared off the turn three wide. His strides were fast and he exploded off of his back end. She barely had to chirp in his ear to get him to move quicker. She wondered what the time would be. Sometimes Saint could be deceptive. His last workout had been tremendous and he'd run a full second faster than she'd thought. She kept her hands quiet as he soared through the wire, ears pricked and looking for more.
She gave him a pat on the neck, applauding his efforts.
Ripley grinned at Brooks who flashed the time on his watch. ":59 2/5. She never even asked him," Brooks said in a sing-song voice. He planted a kiss on Ripley's lips, then Keller's forehead. "I hope you finally get your Derby champ, Marsh."
She smiled, watched the colt become indecipherable again around the first turn. Once again Saint became the phantom of her dreams as he had been since before he had even been born.
"I hope so too," she answered Brooks.
