Post by Ripley on Apr 23, 2015 13:12:00 GMT -5
Burning Fire
featuring: Flashpoint & Saintly Touch
One of the more anticipated workout match ups was quickly approaching. The Preakness Stakes winner, Saintly Touch, and Witch Creek's hottest horse, Flashpoint, were set to do battle over the main dirt track. Clockers were eagerly waiting their arrival. July would mark Flashpoint's first attempt in the Horse Of The Year level races and this time he would do more than just be a participator. Flashpoint's five race win record was gathering interest in part because people wanted to see someone knew challenge the current leaders of the division. Flashpoint was an unsung hero and his toughness could hardly be denied. The half-brother to Paranormal Hunter was no longer in the shadows. Now he was taking his rightful spot in the spotlight.
Saintly Touch danced around his regular rider and handler, Reese, showing none of the wear and tear of the Triple Crown. He'd been given three weeks off after the Belmont Stakes in which he had finished third behind Ultimate Revenge and Kentucky Derby winner Speak Easy. He was one of the long distance colts to watch going further. His older relation through Touch Up, In Front, had marked himself one to watch as he swept from grade three to one in the first half of the season. If anything, Saint was in a better position than the four year old stud and he had the precociousness of the Night Stalker line to get him back into the winner's circle.
Ripley watched the two dark horses prowl around in front of the barn she rented at The Wire. Saint powered along, each muscle strong and rippling as he walked. Nearly black, the colt made a powerful image and had attracted many fans into his corner. He was the tough as nails type of horse that promised to stick around for as long as possible. Never had the colt had a cold, feet problems or suffered an injury in training. He was one of the most solid horses Ripley had raised. She couldn't wait for him to hit his stride in the second half of the season and she greatly looked forward to his future as an older stallion on the track.
Brooks mounted up with the assistance of Kendall. Flashpoint danced wildly for a moment, his shoed hooves tap dancing over the stones. He tossed his head wildly, spraying spittle over Kendall. The muscular horse pinned his ears, tucked his chin to his chest and looked every inch the horse to beat. Ripley had never expected this much fire out of the mahogany bay horse. Para had been a lazy type, only turning it on for the duration of the homestretch time after time. She'd become a monster at the word go. Flashpoint had been sweet, innocent and workmanlike. Yet, Para was already retired, already in the Hall Of Fame, and her same age half-brother was tearing up the track. Ripley was thrilled to be involved in the co-ownership with Blue Cross Estates on this fine horse.
"Alright. Let's head to the track."
Ripley swung aboard the sleek Ashanti, let the bay mare step out into a trot to keep up with the boys. Saint let out a low nicker at the sight of her, but Moose kept to his business. His business was racing and he had absolutely no interest whatsoever in the ladies, no matter how pretty. Ashanti pinned her ears, avoiding the colts. She'd already gone through her heat cycle last week and was back to being her self-absorbed, quick-natured self.
"Take them seven furlongs today. Easy at first and run them down the stretch. Saint will get Moose into shape for the Seaspray Cup next week. I still have to come up with a start for Saint, but he'll be back shortly."
"I hope so," Reese muttered under her breath. The seal bay colt had been a handful for weeks. He wasn't one for vacations. He'd stand at the gate and neigh until someone came and got him from his pasture. He liked activity and farm routine bored the daylights out of him. He was only back to work so fast because he was driving everyone at Witch Creek nuts.
The colts stepped onto the track, ears pricking at the horses already out on the dirt. Saint pawed the ground impatiently when Reese stopped him. Moose tossed his head, let out a whinny that a horse down the way answered. Ripley kept Ashanti jogging along the rail in an effort to keep her duo out of the gap. The gap was not the place to be if fresh horses were around.
Saint moved into his classic gallop stride, stretching right out beneath Reese. Soon Ashanti was left in the dust as Flashpoint skipped into his lope to keep up. His brown body glistened in the sun and he looked the picture of health as she kept after his younger workmate. Ripley could hardly wait to see Saint and Moose go at it. It felt like it had been a while since they'd run their races.
Saint skipped over the track, ears bobbing around on his head in contentment. He loved track life and he seemed to like training at The Wire. He bounded over the course, minded Reese's wish to get down on the rail around the first turn. Moose moved over as well under Brooks' directive. The bay horse pinned his ears competitively when Saint matched him stride for stride.
Soon they were flying up the backstretch, tails streaming out behind them. The first three furlongs of the seven furlong work went easy with Flashpoint taking the lead from Saint under light urging. Saint floated over the track, relaxed enough to allow Moose to lead. He would listen to Reese as Flashpoint would Brooks if there was a faster horse in the race. Moose traveled well, kept to his business like the pro he was becoming. Brooks was awfully impressed with the 16.1 hand horse as he picked it up upon asking heading into the far turn.
Saint dashed back up the rail, woken up by Reese's urging. He stepped quickly into his racing stride and surged to poke his head in front at the top of the stretch. Moose met him eye for eye, legs blurring beneath him as he responded to the upstart. Both horses flew in tandem, their riders still as stones in the saddle. It was inspiring to watch them cruise right on by other workers like they were standing still. Neither horse was fully maxed out as they hit the line together and galloped out another furlong.
Ripley smiled as Saint powered by Moose in the first turn, opening up because of his tolerance of longer distance. She could hear Moose snorting furiously as Brooks reined him in. He wanted to continue grinding away at Saint and his rider simply wouldn't allow it.
She felt more comfortable going into the second half of the year than she had the first half. Anticipation of what was to come only increased and fueled her fire.
