July Week 1
A Meeting Of Minds
Paradise Island and Jaimie Sandler for ARLINGTON MILLIONS*
National Treasure and Stanley Newton for PROVEN STRONG*
Divided Notion and Christopher Descartes for PROVINCIA DERBY*
National Treasure and Stanley Newton for PROVEN STRONG*
Divided Notion and Christopher Descartes for PROVINCIA DERBY*
Jaimie Sandler had never worked with any of Blue Cross Estates other jockeys, the exception being Stanley Newton. So naturally, upon discovering that she would finally be working with Christopher Descartes, she got a little bit excited. In her eyes, it meant that she was here to stay. The estate finally trusted her to the point where she could be allowed to familiarize herself with it, and it was absolutely thrilling. Another added point was that she was earning this trust aboard the triple tiara champion Paradise Island, whose name alone caused jockeys far and wide to salivate at the simple thought of gracing her back. It was going to be a very good day for Jaimie.
Stanley Newton was nervous. The future of National Treasure had been placed in his hands, and he wanted nothing more than to allow her to shine. She was not only simply a great filly, she was perhaps the greatest filly he had encountered throughout his entire career. She had more than potential and promise, she had ability, and he wanted desperately to use it. On top of the stress he felt over the black filly, he had also been tasked with keeping Jaimie Sandler’s head on straight so Paradise Island could shine as well, and if he was being completely honest, he felt as if he was coming undone. When he had signed on with Blue Cross Estates, he had done so enjoying the small stable it had been. Then, it had rapidly expanded within a short period of time, and suddenly all Stanley was ever doing was riding horses or training horses or training people to train and ride horses. It was wearing him thin, and sooner or later something would have to give.
Christopher Descartes was determined. Divided Notion had tanked in the Seashell cup and he blamed himself. He knew the colt could do better, and he was set on making him better. The Seashell Cup hadn’t been out of his reach, just out of his breath. Christopher had literally felt the moment the colt had lost his drive, and then they had fallen back so fast he could barely catch his own breath. The Provincia Derby was going to be different. Divided Notion was just as much a star as any other horse at Blue Cross, and Christopher was going to make it known.
It was Jaimie Sandler who arrived at the track first, it had been a habit that had been more or less forced upon her by Stanley, who had told her it was most definitely better to be an early jockey than a late one. As a result, she was almost always there before the horses or any of the other jockeys themselves. Today was an exception, however, as she pulled up to the Wire track and was surprised by the frame of Christopher Descartes. She hadn’t actually had a conversation with the man before, and knew very little about him with the exception that he was the head trainer’s son, and he had been one of the strongest pushing to be allowed to ride Paradise Island. The fact made her a little uncertain about how he would view her, but then Stanley was rolling up as well and the trailer was in pursuit, and it was suddenly all okay.
Stanley Newton climbed from his car and greeted the other two jockeys before making his way over to Descartes. The head trainer climbed from the head of the truck as a trickle of grooms accompanied him around to the rear of the trailer. They set to unloading the three horses immediately, Stanley and Descartes both watching with attention as they black frame of National Treasure danced out onto the ground, followed quickly by Divided Notion and Paradise Island herself. It was useless to say that the sight of the Triple Tiara winner did not excite the both of them, Paradise Island was a species in her own right, a bay monster whose legacy lived on while the raced the tracks. She was a champion, and deserved the best last year any horse of such stature could have.
Christopher Descartes got to his feet at the arrival of the other jockeys. He returned Stanley’s greetings immediately, raising his hand in acknowledgement as they walked over to watch the horses unload. His eyes fell then to the young frame of Jaimie Sandler. He hadn’t met her yet, which was rather odd as they where two of the estates four jockeys, but he wasted no time in formally introducing himself. She looked momentarily surprised at his inquiry, but it soon subsided as he questioned her on the welfare of Criss Cross and Paradise Island, and all discomfort faded into that of horse talk.
The horses were quickly saddled as the professionals they were, and within moments Jaimie Sandler found herself seated on the back of Paradise Island. The feeling was as brilliant as always, and she leaned forward to stroke the mare’s mane with affection as the bay beauty shuffled beneath her, ears forward. Paradise Island had quickly become Jaimie’s favorite around the estate. She rode the horse and she felt brave, accomplished. As she had been saddled first, she walked Paradise Island along at a slow, idling pace, watching as Christopher was helped up onto the back of Divided Notion and Stanley to National Treasure. As their stirrups were adjusted, Descartes came over and instructed how he wanted Paradise Island to run, how the older more experienced mare was to push the two to the brink but still carry enough to win. She simply nodded, sat sharp and directed the horse out onto the track for a half mile warm up.
Stanley Newton ran a comforting hand over that of National Treasure’s forehead, smiling as the filly nudged back in response. She had run a fantastic Yinz Stakes against an unscheduled G2, and he was positive she was ready to wrap up the Proven Strong. She was a bullet in a loaded gun and she was simply rearing to go, dancing along underneath him with uncontained energy. She was the kind of horse Stanley lived for to ride, the main reason he had fought so hard to be able to ride her when he was usually dealing with the horses that needed an extra push. Treasure had been one too great to resist.
The warm up lap finished and they all rode back, Divided Notion in the company of the other fillies. Their jockeys sat slightly tense, it was an important workout for important races and each wanted their own horse to excel. Descartes lined them up, National Treasure dancing uneasily at the line until finally the head trainer let them go and they took off like the creatures of flight they were. As instructed, Paradise Island took off like a rocket, leading the way down the stretch, National Treasure and Divided Notion warring for positions behind her. Eventually Stanley reined Treasure in, placing her where she would be comfortable and allowing Divided Notion to proceed after Paradise Island. The Triple Tiara winner did not hold back, setting a killer pace and taking Jaimie along for the ride as the blazed a vicious four length lead on the two three year olds.
Behind, in the wings Christopher urged Divided Notion along at National Treasure’s challenge, and the two moved up to flank Paradise Island as they stirred up dust and dirt in their wake. In front, Paradise Island continued on her warpath, pushing the three year olds out of their comfort zone and into a higher gear as they headed for home. At the ending stretch it seemed that Paradise Island only found more energy, and really kicked into overdrive, though Divided Notion and National Treasure did the same, closing hard and fast and completely decreasing the lead to non existent. When they crossed, it was with Paradise Island in front, but the other two were hot on her heels. If anything had been unclear before hand, it had been made visible now. Blue Cross Estates was home to three champions, one well known and two in the rising. Concern was a thing of the past.
Stanley Newton was nervous. The future of National Treasure had been placed in his hands, and he wanted nothing more than to allow her to shine. She was not only simply a great filly, she was perhaps the greatest filly he had encountered throughout his entire career. She had more than potential and promise, she had ability, and he wanted desperately to use it. On top of the stress he felt over the black filly, he had also been tasked with keeping Jaimie Sandler’s head on straight so Paradise Island could shine as well, and if he was being completely honest, he felt as if he was coming undone. When he had signed on with Blue Cross Estates, he had done so enjoying the small stable it had been. Then, it had rapidly expanded within a short period of time, and suddenly all Stanley was ever doing was riding horses or training horses or training people to train and ride horses. It was wearing him thin, and sooner or later something would have to give.
Christopher Descartes was determined. Divided Notion had tanked in the Seashell cup and he blamed himself. He knew the colt could do better, and he was set on making him better. The Seashell Cup hadn’t been out of his reach, just out of his breath. Christopher had literally felt the moment the colt had lost his drive, and then they had fallen back so fast he could barely catch his own breath. The Provincia Derby was going to be different. Divided Notion was just as much a star as any other horse at Blue Cross, and Christopher was going to make it known.
It was Jaimie Sandler who arrived at the track first, it had been a habit that had been more or less forced upon her by Stanley, who had told her it was most definitely better to be an early jockey than a late one. As a result, she was almost always there before the horses or any of the other jockeys themselves. Today was an exception, however, as she pulled up to the Wire track and was surprised by the frame of Christopher Descartes. She hadn’t actually had a conversation with the man before, and knew very little about him with the exception that he was the head trainer’s son, and he had been one of the strongest pushing to be allowed to ride Paradise Island. The fact made her a little uncertain about how he would view her, but then Stanley was rolling up as well and the trailer was in pursuit, and it was suddenly all okay.
Stanley Newton climbed from his car and greeted the other two jockeys before making his way over to Descartes. The head trainer climbed from the head of the truck as a trickle of grooms accompanied him around to the rear of the trailer. They set to unloading the three horses immediately, Stanley and Descartes both watching with attention as they black frame of National Treasure danced out onto the ground, followed quickly by Divided Notion and Paradise Island herself. It was useless to say that the sight of the Triple Tiara winner did not excite the both of them, Paradise Island was a species in her own right, a bay monster whose legacy lived on while the raced the tracks. She was a champion, and deserved the best last year any horse of such stature could have.
Christopher Descartes got to his feet at the arrival of the other jockeys. He returned Stanley’s greetings immediately, raising his hand in acknowledgement as they walked over to watch the horses unload. His eyes fell then to the young frame of Jaimie Sandler. He hadn’t met her yet, which was rather odd as they where two of the estates four jockeys, but he wasted no time in formally introducing himself. She looked momentarily surprised at his inquiry, but it soon subsided as he questioned her on the welfare of Criss Cross and Paradise Island, and all discomfort faded into that of horse talk.
The horses were quickly saddled as the professionals they were, and within moments Jaimie Sandler found herself seated on the back of Paradise Island. The feeling was as brilliant as always, and she leaned forward to stroke the mare’s mane with affection as the bay beauty shuffled beneath her, ears forward. Paradise Island had quickly become Jaimie’s favorite around the estate. She rode the horse and she felt brave, accomplished. As she had been saddled first, she walked Paradise Island along at a slow, idling pace, watching as Christopher was helped up onto the back of Divided Notion and Stanley to National Treasure. As their stirrups were adjusted, Descartes came over and instructed how he wanted Paradise Island to run, how the older more experienced mare was to push the two to the brink but still carry enough to win. She simply nodded, sat sharp and directed the horse out onto the track for a half mile warm up.
Stanley Newton ran a comforting hand over that of National Treasure’s forehead, smiling as the filly nudged back in response. She had run a fantastic Yinz Stakes against an unscheduled G2, and he was positive she was ready to wrap up the Proven Strong. She was a bullet in a loaded gun and she was simply rearing to go, dancing along underneath him with uncontained energy. She was the kind of horse Stanley lived for to ride, the main reason he had fought so hard to be able to ride her when he was usually dealing with the horses that needed an extra push. Treasure had been one too great to resist.
The warm up lap finished and they all rode back, Divided Notion in the company of the other fillies. Their jockeys sat slightly tense, it was an important workout for important races and each wanted their own horse to excel. Descartes lined them up, National Treasure dancing uneasily at the line until finally the head trainer let them go and they took off like the creatures of flight they were. As instructed, Paradise Island took off like a rocket, leading the way down the stretch, National Treasure and Divided Notion warring for positions behind her. Eventually Stanley reined Treasure in, placing her where she would be comfortable and allowing Divided Notion to proceed after Paradise Island. The Triple Tiara winner did not hold back, setting a killer pace and taking Jaimie along for the ride as the blazed a vicious four length lead on the two three year olds.
Behind, in the wings Christopher urged Divided Notion along at National Treasure’s challenge, and the two moved up to flank Paradise Island as they stirred up dust and dirt in their wake. In front, Paradise Island continued on her warpath, pushing the three year olds out of their comfort zone and into a higher gear as they headed for home. At the ending stretch it seemed that Paradise Island only found more energy, and really kicked into overdrive, though Divided Notion and National Treasure did the same, closing hard and fast and completely decreasing the lead to non existent. When they crossed, it was with Paradise Island in front, but the other two were hot on her heels. If anything had been unclear before hand, it had been made visible now. Blue Cross Estates was home to three champions, one well known and two in the rising. Concern was a thing of the past.
July Week 2
Treasure Point Limits
National Treasure and Stanley Newton for LURE GREEN MILE*
Flashpoint and Madeline Walker for STAR PARTY*
Prideful Limits and Christopher Descartes for Turf Stakes
Flashpoint and Madeline Walker for STAR PARTY*
Prideful Limits and Christopher Descartes for Turf Stakes
There was a certain theory that Stanley Newton lived by, one that had dictated most of his career and resulted in his success up to this point. It was that for every reaction that occurred, there was an equal if not greater opposite reaction. Being as the theory was, it was only possible for National Treasure to perform better than she ever had before.
It was not a sunny day out. The sky was lit up gray much in the same manner as it had been during the day of the Proven Strong Stakes, and the fact sat rather ill with Stanley. He had hoped to leave that particular day and race far behind. It had been perhaps one of Treasure’s races, and he was convinced it was his fault. He had given her a terrible ride around, got her mugged in the home stretch and he wanted a chance to make right what had gone wrong. National Treasure was a filly to watch and if nothing else, a filly to fear. She had blue blood in her veins, and Stanley was ready to let it show.
Madeline Walker was a bit upset. It had not been a good day to start off with, and now she was ending it with Flashpoint. As a pair, they did not get along, and though she had told Stanley and Descartes and even the Myers that the horse hated her, and that she was not particularly fond of the horse, they had refused to switch him from her list of mounts. She could not, for the life of her, fathom why. Flashpoint was entering one of the most crucial times of his career, he needed a jockey who could be on board with him and not want to get off as soon as possible, yet Stanley had simply instructed her to work on him, Descartes had only given her a passing glance and the Myers had only told her to take it up with Descartes and Newton, who made most if not all of the decisions regarding the jockeys. The result was a flustered and frustrated girl on a flustered and frustrated colt.
Christopher Descartes was having a good time. His day had been easy and his workload light, as none of his horses were scheduled for an intense race in the second week of July. As a result, he was speeding around on an awake and enthusiastic Prideful Limits who was simply happy to be alive today as he ate up the track in a joyful, flourishing manner. It made Christopher feel alive in return, and the pair jogged along like the boys they were. His father had wanted to get Pride ready for a turf stakes, which gave Christopher a lot of freedom to run Predator any which way he wanted. Really nothing could hamper his mood, with the exception of his fellow jockeys, who looked like they were operating under the cloud cover in almost a literal manner, so stressed and displeased they were. He had tried to make light of the situation by poking fun at Madeline, which had most definitely been the wrong move as she had nearly bitten off his head, and only Prideful Limits had been his saving grace. Now he simply loped along on the big bay, giving some distance to the other jockeys and their mounts as he would want were he preparing for a big race.
Stanley sighed as he settled into the saddle of National Treasure. Sometimes he wondered what he had gotten himself into, leaving behind an established stable to give a beginner racing barn a shot. Then he felt Treasure come alive under him and he suddenly new. This was what he had missed, the life that an undamaged and unbroken horse could bring to the track. Somehow, as a stable grew in size, the soul that was meant to fuel the sport of kings was lost along the way amongst a pool of money. Stanley had wanted something different, something better. He felt that difference here amongst the blue stables, amongst the different dynamic of ownership and the collected talent of horses. He felt it and he loved it. If anything, that at least made it all worth it.
Madeline climbed aboard the dark brown Flashpoint and felt his upset nearly immediately. She bit back a near angry remark, instead feeling it travel up and pool in the corners of her eyes. She had never before had a horse simply dislike her, and the feeling was unwelcome as Flashpoint’s ears went flat. The Flash Limits colt was generally the best behaved horse of them all, with his usually sweet disposition, so Madeline was completely at a loss as to why he would single her out. She was anything but thorough though, so when asked to continue riding the colt, she did.
“You just have to get through to him. He’s picking up on all your negative energy and reacting to it.” Stanley had told her, which had been a fat lot of help to Madeline. The only negative energy she had really felt towards any actual horse had almost been nonexistent, so she really didn’t understand why Flashpoint fought her so fiercely. Already, only at a standstill he was challenging her, turning his head away from where she was directing him. She knew when she finally asked him to go, that he would make it near impossible, and it only added to her strife. She had seemingly tried everything. She had paid him special attention, had taken him out on the trails and given him extra treats, and nothing had helped to ease the horse’s liking of her. “It’s because you’re not being upfront with him. He’s a very clever, gentle horse. Very in tune to emotions. You can’t buy these kind of horses. You show him your heart and he’ll show you his.” Stanley had once again instructed. Madeline had never been very good at emotions though, nor did she willingly give over her feelings and fears, and she really wasn’t about to start giving them to some colt who didn’t get along with her.
Christopher reeled Pride in as his father waved the three riders over, the large bay obediently sculpting an arc through the track as he turned at Christopher’s touch and then loped along the rail to idle by Treasure and Flashpoint, who Madeline fought vigorously with to keep straight and calm as he hopped about like a kangaroo, feisty and unruly in a way Christopher had never seen before. He watched as his father did his best to ignore the bawling brown colt, and instead gave precise instructions on how the horses would run. He quickly dismissed them after he had given his set of instructions, hastily walking off as Flashpoint grew more and more resistant, and Madeline more and more upset as they jerked about. She finally managed to line him up with the others, but when the initial take off came he lagged from where he was suppose to be. Where Pride was to lead the way, Flash was to ride between him and Treasure. Instead, Flashpoint could not be kept straight, and he ran sluggishly, as if half asleep. Come on, she urged him mentally, her ankles closing against his sides as she tried to push him faster, pick it up. The horse, instead, seemed to simply lag even further off the pace.
Stanley Newton was having a good ride. Treasure was giving it her A-game, her entire being pushing to run as cleanly as possible. There was no flaw in her rhythm, no hesitation of second guessing, if Stanley asked for it he got it. As a result they gained on Pride and pushed him forwards much faster than planned, and Stanley was forced to reel back the raw power of the filly. He chanced a glance backwards to gauge Flashpoint’s location, which should have been in front of him, and frowned at the sight of a disruptive horse and jockey pair. It was easy to tell when horse and rider where not of the same mindset, and Madeline and Flashpoint could not have been further apart. They were very different from one another, and Madeline would have to exit her comfort zone and place forth a little trust if she wished to make any headway with the colt.
Flashpoint was under no circumstances happy. He was putting forth minimal effort, refused flat out to change leads and kept himself stiff and firm, unwilling to stretch into the fluid creature that he was. Madeline was coming to the end of her tolerance, and pretty soon was going to snap. As if he could hear her thoughts, very suddenly Flashpoint tripped and lunged forwards, just barely managing to stay on his feet and keep Madeline aboard. Naturally, the jockey balked and yelped in surprise as she nearly fell underneath the colt to what would have been a painful if not serious experience. Instead, in her moment of complete and raw fear, she managed to yank him up, but he also straightened. Suddenly, he was running straight and fast, his ears alert and body unlocked. It was the best Madeline had ever seen him run under her, and it took her breath away. Horses are different. They understand you on the most basic emotional level. If you are going to be successful with them, you are going to have to understand this and be able to relate. Suddenly she understood what she had been doing wrong. Flashpoint just wanted to run for someone he could trust. If she gave him nothing to work with, he wouldn’t run. And just like that, as if being gifted with wings, the brown colt was screaming down the track like the powerhouse he was, catching quickly up to Pride and Treasure and pushing with all the speed he held inside, bringing Madeline along for the ride.
If there was one thing Stanley had not expected to encounter, it was the rapidly approaching figure of Flashpoint as he came up to challenge Treasure for all that she was worth. The black filly immediately rocketed forwards, pulling up by Prideful Limits as they headed for home in tandem, a blur of bay and black and brown. Underneath him, Treasure moved like the creature of flight she was, pulling forwards as if pulled forcibly toward the wire. Her body was relaxed, her pace intense and her yearning irrefutable. It was all Stanley could do to hold on tight as the filly became the embodiment of speed, blowing by Prideful Limits in a mad dash for the finish. As the horses came to the end, it was Treasure who dashed over it first, though Flash and Pride were not far behind. As they cooled off and Madeline stroked his velvety skin, she felt him exhale calmly and smiled. They were off to a promising start. Things were bound to change, and change quickly.
It was as the sun was setting over Blue Cross Estates and Madeline was heading to her car that she glanced towards the colt stable, where the content and resting head of Flashpoint looked out from his stall. She couldn’t help herself, and took a bit of a detour, heading immediately for his stall, where his ears pricked forwards to greet her. Cautiously, she glanced up at him, uncertain. “You know, Flash, I’m not that great at letting a lot of people in. But you aren’t people, and if we’re going to have any shot at making all of this work, we’re going to have to trust one another,” She stated. Without halting her speech, she reached out to him, placing her hand on his upper muzzle. He did not shy away from her. She stood then, regarding the colt with unkempt joy as she scratched the star on his forehead and he leaned into her touch, unresisting for the first time. “Okay, Flash,” She said with a laugh, her fingers smoothing the black of his forelock down, “Okay.”
It was not a sunny day out. The sky was lit up gray much in the same manner as it had been during the day of the Proven Strong Stakes, and the fact sat rather ill with Stanley. He had hoped to leave that particular day and race far behind. It had been perhaps one of Treasure’s races, and he was convinced it was his fault. He had given her a terrible ride around, got her mugged in the home stretch and he wanted a chance to make right what had gone wrong. National Treasure was a filly to watch and if nothing else, a filly to fear. She had blue blood in her veins, and Stanley was ready to let it show.
Madeline Walker was a bit upset. It had not been a good day to start off with, and now she was ending it with Flashpoint. As a pair, they did not get along, and though she had told Stanley and Descartes and even the Myers that the horse hated her, and that she was not particularly fond of the horse, they had refused to switch him from her list of mounts. She could not, for the life of her, fathom why. Flashpoint was entering one of the most crucial times of his career, he needed a jockey who could be on board with him and not want to get off as soon as possible, yet Stanley had simply instructed her to work on him, Descartes had only given her a passing glance and the Myers had only told her to take it up with Descartes and Newton, who made most if not all of the decisions regarding the jockeys. The result was a flustered and frustrated girl on a flustered and frustrated colt.
Christopher Descartes was having a good time. His day had been easy and his workload light, as none of his horses were scheduled for an intense race in the second week of July. As a result, he was speeding around on an awake and enthusiastic Prideful Limits who was simply happy to be alive today as he ate up the track in a joyful, flourishing manner. It made Christopher feel alive in return, and the pair jogged along like the boys they were. His father had wanted to get Pride ready for a turf stakes, which gave Christopher a lot of freedom to run Predator any which way he wanted. Really nothing could hamper his mood, with the exception of his fellow jockeys, who looked like they were operating under the cloud cover in almost a literal manner, so stressed and displeased they were. He had tried to make light of the situation by poking fun at Madeline, which had most definitely been the wrong move as she had nearly bitten off his head, and only Prideful Limits had been his saving grace. Now he simply loped along on the big bay, giving some distance to the other jockeys and their mounts as he would want were he preparing for a big race.
Stanley sighed as he settled into the saddle of National Treasure. Sometimes he wondered what he had gotten himself into, leaving behind an established stable to give a beginner racing barn a shot. Then he felt Treasure come alive under him and he suddenly new. This was what he had missed, the life that an undamaged and unbroken horse could bring to the track. Somehow, as a stable grew in size, the soul that was meant to fuel the sport of kings was lost along the way amongst a pool of money. Stanley had wanted something different, something better. He felt that difference here amongst the blue stables, amongst the different dynamic of ownership and the collected talent of horses. He felt it and he loved it. If anything, that at least made it all worth it.
Madeline climbed aboard the dark brown Flashpoint and felt his upset nearly immediately. She bit back a near angry remark, instead feeling it travel up and pool in the corners of her eyes. She had never before had a horse simply dislike her, and the feeling was unwelcome as Flashpoint’s ears went flat. The Flash Limits colt was generally the best behaved horse of them all, with his usually sweet disposition, so Madeline was completely at a loss as to why he would single her out. She was anything but thorough though, so when asked to continue riding the colt, she did.
“You just have to get through to him. He’s picking up on all your negative energy and reacting to it.” Stanley had told her, which had been a fat lot of help to Madeline. The only negative energy she had really felt towards any actual horse had almost been nonexistent, so she really didn’t understand why Flashpoint fought her so fiercely. Already, only at a standstill he was challenging her, turning his head away from where she was directing him. She knew when she finally asked him to go, that he would make it near impossible, and it only added to her strife. She had seemingly tried everything. She had paid him special attention, had taken him out on the trails and given him extra treats, and nothing had helped to ease the horse’s liking of her. “It’s because you’re not being upfront with him. He’s a very clever, gentle horse. Very in tune to emotions. You can’t buy these kind of horses. You show him your heart and he’ll show you his.” Stanley had once again instructed. Madeline had never been very good at emotions though, nor did she willingly give over her feelings and fears, and she really wasn’t about to start giving them to some colt who didn’t get along with her.
Christopher reeled Pride in as his father waved the three riders over, the large bay obediently sculpting an arc through the track as he turned at Christopher’s touch and then loped along the rail to idle by Treasure and Flashpoint, who Madeline fought vigorously with to keep straight and calm as he hopped about like a kangaroo, feisty and unruly in a way Christopher had never seen before. He watched as his father did his best to ignore the bawling brown colt, and instead gave precise instructions on how the horses would run. He quickly dismissed them after he had given his set of instructions, hastily walking off as Flashpoint grew more and more resistant, and Madeline more and more upset as they jerked about. She finally managed to line him up with the others, but when the initial take off came he lagged from where he was suppose to be. Where Pride was to lead the way, Flash was to ride between him and Treasure. Instead, Flashpoint could not be kept straight, and he ran sluggishly, as if half asleep. Come on, she urged him mentally, her ankles closing against his sides as she tried to push him faster, pick it up. The horse, instead, seemed to simply lag even further off the pace.
Stanley Newton was having a good ride. Treasure was giving it her A-game, her entire being pushing to run as cleanly as possible. There was no flaw in her rhythm, no hesitation of second guessing, if Stanley asked for it he got it. As a result they gained on Pride and pushed him forwards much faster than planned, and Stanley was forced to reel back the raw power of the filly. He chanced a glance backwards to gauge Flashpoint’s location, which should have been in front of him, and frowned at the sight of a disruptive horse and jockey pair. It was easy to tell when horse and rider where not of the same mindset, and Madeline and Flashpoint could not have been further apart. They were very different from one another, and Madeline would have to exit her comfort zone and place forth a little trust if she wished to make any headway with the colt.
Flashpoint was under no circumstances happy. He was putting forth minimal effort, refused flat out to change leads and kept himself stiff and firm, unwilling to stretch into the fluid creature that he was. Madeline was coming to the end of her tolerance, and pretty soon was going to snap. As if he could hear her thoughts, very suddenly Flashpoint tripped and lunged forwards, just barely managing to stay on his feet and keep Madeline aboard. Naturally, the jockey balked and yelped in surprise as she nearly fell underneath the colt to what would have been a painful if not serious experience. Instead, in her moment of complete and raw fear, she managed to yank him up, but he also straightened. Suddenly, he was running straight and fast, his ears alert and body unlocked. It was the best Madeline had ever seen him run under her, and it took her breath away. Horses are different. They understand you on the most basic emotional level. If you are going to be successful with them, you are going to have to understand this and be able to relate. Suddenly she understood what she had been doing wrong. Flashpoint just wanted to run for someone he could trust. If she gave him nothing to work with, he wouldn’t run. And just like that, as if being gifted with wings, the brown colt was screaming down the track like the powerhouse he was, catching quickly up to Pride and Treasure and pushing with all the speed he held inside, bringing Madeline along for the ride.
If there was one thing Stanley had not expected to encounter, it was the rapidly approaching figure of Flashpoint as he came up to challenge Treasure for all that she was worth. The black filly immediately rocketed forwards, pulling up by Prideful Limits as they headed for home in tandem, a blur of bay and black and brown. Underneath him, Treasure moved like the creature of flight she was, pulling forwards as if pulled forcibly toward the wire. Her body was relaxed, her pace intense and her yearning irrefutable. It was all Stanley could do to hold on tight as the filly became the embodiment of speed, blowing by Prideful Limits in a mad dash for the finish. As the horses came to the end, it was Treasure who dashed over it first, though Flash and Pride were not far behind. As they cooled off and Madeline stroked his velvety skin, she felt him exhale calmly and smiled. They were off to a promising start. Things were bound to change, and change quickly.
It was as the sun was setting over Blue Cross Estates and Madeline was heading to her car that she glanced towards the colt stable, where the content and resting head of Flashpoint looked out from his stall. She couldn’t help herself, and took a bit of a detour, heading immediately for his stall, where his ears pricked forwards to greet her. Cautiously, she glanced up at him, uncertain. “You know, Flash, I’m not that great at letting a lot of people in. But you aren’t people, and if we’re going to have any shot at making all of this work, we’re going to have to trust one another,” She stated. Without halting her speech, she reached out to him, placing her hand on his upper muzzle. He did not shy away from her. She stood then, regarding the colt with unkempt joy as she scratched the star on his forehead and he leaned into her touch, unresisting for the first time. “Okay, Flash,” She said with a laugh, her fingers smoothing the black of his forelock down, “Okay.”
The Big Three Of BCE
Criss Cross and Jaimie Sandler for Gallant Stakes
Agorion and Stanley Newton for Juvenile Faceoff
Saving Sanity and Madeline Walker for July Maiden
Agorion and Stanley Newton for Juvenile Faceoff
Saving Sanity and Madeline Walker for July Maiden
It had been a rather long time since Jaimie had gotten the pleasure of taking Criss Cross out for a spin. She absolutely adored the white filly and had been looking forward to working her for quite some time, and now that the day had finally arrived she could barely contain herself. “Hey there Cross,” The young jockey said, greeting the turf darling with an affectionate rub to the neck as she was saddled. Joining the pair was Stanley Newton and Agorion, prepping for the juvenile faceoff, and Madeline Walker assisting with Saving Sanity, who was working up to perhaps finally break her maiden. She was the last two year old that needed to make the climb, and it was eagerly awaited for her to finally do so.
Jaimie climbed easily into the saddle, Criss Cross settling comfortably under her as they walked out onto the track, the white filly characteristically waking up as they neared the familiar runway. The filly was perhaps Blue Cross Estate’s most promising two year old, having been the first to break her maiden, though both Agorion and Fleet Street were improving alongside her. It was really only Sanity that was struggling, though that was hopefully a subject soon to change. Behind her, Stanley and Madeline climbed aboard their own mounts and joined her out on the track for a three furlong warm up, the horses breathing easily and in rhythm as they loped along the rail. As the filly was joined by the others she grew much more lively, if not unruly, and pulled harder in an attempt to get in front of the others, rather unsure about them so close by her. Jaimie simply tugged at the wisps of cremello mane and calmed her down before they headed back.
Stanley Newton guided the fiery Agorion behind the two fillies, attempting to keep him calm as he flourished about, more or less showing off to the girls who paid him no mind. Stanley simply laughed at the dapple grey, and rubbed at his neck reassuringly that he was receiving his deserved attention. To his side, Madeline Walker sat tall on Sanity, who picked her way carefully along beside the familiar form of Cross. It was a calm day, one where the sun shined and the birds sung and the horses were as relaxed as they ever had been, contented to laze about. It was the kind of day Stanley Newton liked best.
They were quick to set the horses and run them, following the instructions of Descartes who watched over them, carefully nitpicking any problems. The three horses thundered down the track, Cross leading them in a blaze of glory as they shot along at a screaming pace. Sanity lounged at her side, her stride stretched wide as the galloped the first furlongs. Agorion stood in vicious pursuit, held off by Stanley as he tried to let off too much too early. They continued along at the break neck pace Cross enjoyed, up until the final furlongs. There was the usual mad dash for the home stretch, and they all came in in a rather mess of placements, but mostly together, and in such a manner that left the jockeys laughing as their horses nearly vaulted across the wire. As they cooled down, there was nothing but smiles around. It was a good day.
Jaimie climbed easily into the saddle, Criss Cross settling comfortably under her as they walked out onto the track, the white filly characteristically waking up as they neared the familiar runway. The filly was perhaps Blue Cross Estate’s most promising two year old, having been the first to break her maiden, though both Agorion and Fleet Street were improving alongside her. It was really only Sanity that was struggling, though that was hopefully a subject soon to change. Behind her, Stanley and Madeline climbed aboard their own mounts and joined her out on the track for a three furlong warm up, the horses breathing easily and in rhythm as they loped along the rail. As the filly was joined by the others she grew much more lively, if not unruly, and pulled harder in an attempt to get in front of the others, rather unsure about them so close by her. Jaimie simply tugged at the wisps of cremello mane and calmed her down before they headed back.
Stanley Newton guided the fiery Agorion behind the two fillies, attempting to keep him calm as he flourished about, more or less showing off to the girls who paid him no mind. Stanley simply laughed at the dapple grey, and rubbed at his neck reassuringly that he was receiving his deserved attention. To his side, Madeline Walker sat tall on Sanity, who picked her way carefully along beside the familiar form of Cross. It was a calm day, one where the sun shined and the birds sung and the horses were as relaxed as they ever had been, contented to laze about. It was the kind of day Stanley Newton liked best.
They were quick to set the horses and run them, following the instructions of Descartes who watched over them, carefully nitpicking any problems. The three horses thundered down the track, Cross leading them in a blaze of glory as they shot along at a screaming pace. Sanity lounged at her side, her stride stretched wide as the galloped the first furlongs. Agorion stood in vicious pursuit, held off by Stanley as he tried to let off too much too early. They continued along at the break neck pace Cross enjoyed, up until the final furlongs. There was the usual mad dash for the home stretch, and they all came in in a rather mess of placements, but mostly together, and in such a manner that left the jockeys laughing as their horses nearly vaulted across the wire. As they cooled down, there was nothing but smiles around. It was a good day.
July Week 3
Legal Street
Barely Legal and Stanley Newton for Dance To My Tunes Stakes
Fleet Street and Madeline Walker for Yukonite Derby Race Series
Fleet Street and Madeline Walker for Yukonite Derby Race Series
Madeline Walker felt really, really good today. The weather had been fantastic, if not a bit humid, and as a result the entire barn had slowed from it’s general frantic pace to a more feel-good vibe. The estate was relaxed in a way it usually never was, the horses out to pasture standing in an organized flock, the setting sun painting them beautiful in a way it usually never could. Generally, no matter how hard they had been worked, if one of the horses was in the paddock they were going absolutely crazy, frisking about and running and kicking and rolling like they had never felt the grass before. Today was different, and it was a refreshing change.
She stood as she usually did, leaning against one of the white fences that surrounded the dirt track at Blue Cross. From there, up on the hill the tracks sat on, she could see the majority of the estate, a sight that generally knocked her breathless. She still really didn’t know how she had gotten so lucky. Four months ago she hadn’t known what to do or where to go, and these people had swept her back onto her feet and given her direction. Within the bounds of those three months, she had placed within the money eight times and had ridden Apollo Bear to a win in the Summer Cup. It was no small accomplishment, and Madeline still flushed with pleasure at the thought.
As was generally the case, after only a few short minutes of waiting she could make out the form of her mount coming up to the track, usually towing some poor groom along with them. This was not the case with Fleet Street. The horse was perhaps the laziest she had ever seen. Where Apollo Bear would surge towards the track, Fleet Street had to nearly be dragged, and caused complete and utter chaos if the grooms handled him in a manner that was not to his liking. The colt vastly preferred to simply sleep, and would do so for long periods of time. When someone woke him up, they got snapped at, and Fleet Street would sulk for hours on end unless he was aloud to continue napping. At first, Descartes had instructed the grooms to simply wake him forcibly. The results of that, however, had been disastrous, and Fleet Street had been a mess of a horse for months. Finally, Descartes had tried a different method. Now, grooms would wait around for hours until the colt finally woke up to give him breakfast and get him ready for whatever day he had ahead of him. Since the change, Fleet Street had begun to show remarkable speed on the track, and had finally won his first race under BCE in the Upgrading Derby. It was laughable, really, and it was also exciting. Still, the colt hated the walk up to the track, and the grooms often pulled straws over who would have to deal with the feisty colt. It was even rumored that they preferred Predator’s flat out cruelty in the place of Fleet’s simply unwillingness. Today though, it seemed even Fleet Street felt the calming affects of the day, and only gave the groom minimal problems, though Madeline still noted that the colt had that special spark in his eye that she had come to love.
Barely Legal was also Madeline’s mount, but her and Fleet Street had been scheduled to work together ever since she had been defeated by Wishing For A Heroine in the Nunavut Derby. Since then, Barely Legal flat out refused to work with the three year old, and threw fits whenever Heroine was brought too close to her. As a result, the once closely paired stable mates now lived on completely different ends of the estate. Legal now sat between the two broodmares Feline Frenzy and Winning Touch, and it was there she felt contented to stay. Seeing as her entire workout schedule also had to be changed, she occasionally conflicted with Madeline’s other mounts, and Stanley Newton had been asked to step in and help. As a result, Stanley was a bit stressed. He had recently been giving the task of training the two new jockeys at the estate, Luke and Lucy Gallows, and was also expected to keep Wishing For A Heroine in shape for her sprinter triple tiara campaign as well as make sure all his other mounts where winning, and incorporate and help Descartes draw up a schedule for the newest mounts at Blue Cross Estates. Stanley had his hands full, and he hadn’t exactly been thrilled when he had been asked to work Barely Legal as well. He liked Madeline Walker though, he really did, so he didn’t say no.
He was a little uncertain about Barely Legal, however. She was four years old and hadn’t ever really shown that much promise. She had run in thirty-eight starts and had only won six of them. Had it been up to Stanley, he would have stopped her efforts a long time ago. Yet, Descartes swore that he could see something in her, something that hadn’t been unlocked, and Alexander Descartes had never been wrong before. Still, it was hard to believe that such a good natured, calm mare could suddenly unleash her inner ferocity, but if Descartes said so, Stanley would believe it. She did have a significantly better track record as a four year old, at least, and hadn’t placed outside of the money yet, so maybe there was hope for her after all. She had, in the very least, come very close to catching him and Heroine in the Nunavut Derby, and that was saying something, because Heroine had run her best race yet. Yes, maybe there really was something lying beneath the surface, and if so Stanley definitely wanted to see it.
Stanley had arrived slightly late, and Descartes was already at the track watching Madeline warm up Fleet Street while Barely Legal stood happily off to the side, ears forward and mane and tail lost to the wind, and a very near lazy, relaxed smile on her features that was enough to make Stanley grin. If nothing else could be said for the Barely A Moment filly, it would be that she was very, very likable.
Stanley approached her in a relaxed manner, taking her off the groom’s hands as he swung into the saddle cleanly, allowing the mare to adjust to his weight before he fixed the reins and tested his stirrups. The filly had woken up a bit under him, her ears swiveling and head raising as the prospect of running grew closer. Already, her head followed the movements of Fleet Street, and he could suddenly feel her distinct desire to prove that she was good at what she loved. In that instant, Stanley felt truly connected to the animal and their similar state of mind, and he allowed for a quick pat against her velvety bay neck and then set her off at a jog of a trot, intent on warming the filly’s muscles before asking for her maximum.
Madeline Walker moved gracefully with the motions of the black Night Stalker colt, familiar with the quirks of his gate and the rolls of his muscle. Fleet was very happy today, and the fact transformed Madeline even more. At the moment, they were just two beings having a good time out in the summer air, and it was lovely. Across the track she finally saw Stanley and Legal make their way out and smiled, because the pair really did look good together. Legal was loping along with all the characteristics of an excited puppy, and Stanley was aboard her grinning, the childlike innocence almost too much for him to take. In turn, it made Madeline smile, and Fleet Street perked up at the added emotion. In the end, the jockey’s and their mounts where so relaxed that they almost missed Descartes signal to return. Almost immediately, they were back to an alert, lively state, and as they headed back to the starting line, Fleet Street even threw his head at the new challenger that had appeared. He had never before met Barely Legal, and the fact made his blood pump faster and his energy levels rise. He wanted to show off, and he wanted to be the best.
Descartes hadn’t felt the need to give out definite instructions, just gave them a distance to go and let them feel out their horses. Almost immediately, without being asked, Fleet Street rocketed off into the lead, a new confidence stilled over him that sent him daringly into the lead, setting a pace he generally wasn’t comfortable with. The fact shocked Madeline at first, but she went with him, allowing him to dictate where and how he wanted to run. As a result, they screamed their way up the inside rail. Barely Legal had taken off at a speed just as fast, and had settled nicely a length behind the black two year old. Stanley wasn’t worried in the slightest, the four year old filly was experienced, and she knew how to let an over energized colt run himself down. She kept a brisk, easy pace, still pushing hard but in a conservative manner. Ahead of them, filled with confidence, Fleet Street threw his head.
It was before they neared the half-way point that Legal decided to move, and Stanley pulled up the reins, uncertain about letting her go so early on. Yet it was clear that Fleet Street was running himself out, and Legal just wanted to go. After losing to Heroine, she wanted to get back in control. Without a second thought, Stanley relinquished it to her. Barely Legal immediately gunned it, and within three strides was side by side with the black colt. The colt, taken off guard by her sudden approach, balked and let up the lead to her. Legal spared him no passing glance, and by he time he had recovered himself, they were a length ahead.
Stanley flattened himself to the filly’s neck, sensing her need for speed, and really let her take off, the horse fully extending herself as she reached out in full stride, a rocket that was simply unstoppable. Behind them, Fleet Street was eating up the track in a vicious attempt to get back in the lead, but he didn’t have the necessary energy reserves to get there. Madeline, sensing this, eased up on the reins and gave him a pat, signaling that it was okay to fade off the pace. The colt, ever determined, refused.
When Barely Legal rounded the corner for home, Fleet Street was in no way gaining, but he was definitely there, a brute force giving it all he had. The effort was admirable, but it would in no way allow him to catch Legal, who was running like her life depended on it, and she was really going fast. Stanley was surprised, for the creature was moving like she would be in the best of races, and it was thrilling. Even when they crossed the wire six lengths ahead of Fleet Street, she did not slow. Across the track, Descartes hit his stopwatch in disbelief. The filly had put on a performance of a lifetime, and in doing so had broken the track record. Fleet Street, reeling in aggression at the filly’s overtake, had run one of the workouts of his life, and the jockeys could barely pull their mounts to a halt as they nearly doubled around for a second lap. Stanley Newton could barely contain his laughter as Legal slowed to a jog and then a brisk walk, his hand moving up to rub against the filly’s sweating neck. One thing was most definitely for sure. Stanley had just gotten into the saddle of a remarkable filly, and he wouldn’t be leaving it anytime soon. By the next day, it had been arranged. Madeline would still ride Legal in the Dance To My Tunes stakes, but after that, Stanley would ride her. In return, Madeline would be picking up Speed Rush. For the girl who had never really clicked with Legal, it was more than she could ask for. It would be another good day for Blue Cross Estates.
She stood as she usually did, leaning against one of the white fences that surrounded the dirt track at Blue Cross. From there, up on the hill the tracks sat on, she could see the majority of the estate, a sight that generally knocked her breathless. She still really didn’t know how she had gotten so lucky. Four months ago she hadn’t known what to do or where to go, and these people had swept her back onto her feet and given her direction. Within the bounds of those three months, she had placed within the money eight times and had ridden Apollo Bear to a win in the Summer Cup. It was no small accomplishment, and Madeline still flushed with pleasure at the thought.
As was generally the case, after only a few short minutes of waiting she could make out the form of her mount coming up to the track, usually towing some poor groom along with them. This was not the case with Fleet Street. The horse was perhaps the laziest she had ever seen. Where Apollo Bear would surge towards the track, Fleet Street had to nearly be dragged, and caused complete and utter chaos if the grooms handled him in a manner that was not to his liking. The colt vastly preferred to simply sleep, and would do so for long periods of time. When someone woke him up, they got snapped at, and Fleet Street would sulk for hours on end unless he was aloud to continue napping. At first, Descartes had instructed the grooms to simply wake him forcibly. The results of that, however, had been disastrous, and Fleet Street had been a mess of a horse for months. Finally, Descartes had tried a different method. Now, grooms would wait around for hours until the colt finally woke up to give him breakfast and get him ready for whatever day he had ahead of him. Since the change, Fleet Street had begun to show remarkable speed on the track, and had finally won his first race under BCE in the Upgrading Derby. It was laughable, really, and it was also exciting. Still, the colt hated the walk up to the track, and the grooms often pulled straws over who would have to deal with the feisty colt. It was even rumored that they preferred Predator’s flat out cruelty in the place of Fleet’s simply unwillingness. Today though, it seemed even Fleet Street felt the calming affects of the day, and only gave the groom minimal problems, though Madeline still noted that the colt had that special spark in his eye that she had come to love.
Barely Legal was also Madeline’s mount, but her and Fleet Street had been scheduled to work together ever since she had been defeated by Wishing For A Heroine in the Nunavut Derby. Since then, Barely Legal flat out refused to work with the three year old, and threw fits whenever Heroine was brought too close to her. As a result, the once closely paired stable mates now lived on completely different ends of the estate. Legal now sat between the two broodmares Feline Frenzy and Winning Touch, and it was there she felt contented to stay. Seeing as her entire workout schedule also had to be changed, she occasionally conflicted with Madeline’s other mounts, and Stanley Newton had been asked to step in and help. As a result, Stanley was a bit stressed. He had recently been giving the task of training the two new jockeys at the estate, Luke and Lucy Gallows, and was also expected to keep Wishing For A Heroine in shape for her sprinter triple tiara campaign as well as make sure all his other mounts where winning, and incorporate and help Descartes draw up a schedule for the newest mounts at Blue Cross Estates. Stanley had his hands full, and he hadn’t exactly been thrilled when he had been asked to work Barely Legal as well. He liked Madeline Walker though, he really did, so he didn’t say no.
He was a little uncertain about Barely Legal, however. She was four years old and hadn’t ever really shown that much promise. She had run in thirty-eight starts and had only won six of them. Had it been up to Stanley, he would have stopped her efforts a long time ago. Yet, Descartes swore that he could see something in her, something that hadn’t been unlocked, and Alexander Descartes had never been wrong before. Still, it was hard to believe that such a good natured, calm mare could suddenly unleash her inner ferocity, but if Descartes said so, Stanley would believe it. She did have a significantly better track record as a four year old, at least, and hadn’t placed outside of the money yet, so maybe there was hope for her after all. She had, in the very least, come very close to catching him and Heroine in the Nunavut Derby, and that was saying something, because Heroine had run her best race yet. Yes, maybe there really was something lying beneath the surface, and if so Stanley definitely wanted to see it.
Stanley had arrived slightly late, and Descartes was already at the track watching Madeline warm up Fleet Street while Barely Legal stood happily off to the side, ears forward and mane and tail lost to the wind, and a very near lazy, relaxed smile on her features that was enough to make Stanley grin. If nothing else could be said for the Barely A Moment filly, it would be that she was very, very likable.
Stanley approached her in a relaxed manner, taking her off the groom’s hands as he swung into the saddle cleanly, allowing the mare to adjust to his weight before he fixed the reins and tested his stirrups. The filly had woken up a bit under him, her ears swiveling and head raising as the prospect of running grew closer. Already, her head followed the movements of Fleet Street, and he could suddenly feel her distinct desire to prove that she was good at what she loved. In that instant, Stanley felt truly connected to the animal and their similar state of mind, and he allowed for a quick pat against her velvety bay neck and then set her off at a jog of a trot, intent on warming the filly’s muscles before asking for her maximum.
Madeline Walker moved gracefully with the motions of the black Night Stalker colt, familiar with the quirks of his gate and the rolls of his muscle. Fleet was very happy today, and the fact transformed Madeline even more. At the moment, they were just two beings having a good time out in the summer air, and it was lovely. Across the track she finally saw Stanley and Legal make their way out and smiled, because the pair really did look good together. Legal was loping along with all the characteristics of an excited puppy, and Stanley was aboard her grinning, the childlike innocence almost too much for him to take. In turn, it made Madeline smile, and Fleet Street perked up at the added emotion. In the end, the jockey’s and their mounts where so relaxed that they almost missed Descartes signal to return. Almost immediately, they were back to an alert, lively state, and as they headed back to the starting line, Fleet Street even threw his head at the new challenger that had appeared. He had never before met Barely Legal, and the fact made his blood pump faster and his energy levels rise. He wanted to show off, and he wanted to be the best.
Descartes hadn’t felt the need to give out definite instructions, just gave them a distance to go and let them feel out their horses. Almost immediately, without being asked, Fleet Street rocketed off into the lead, a new confidence stilled over him that sent him daringly into the lead, setting a pace he generally wasn’t comfortable with. The fact shocked Madeline at first, but she went with him, allowing him to dictate where and how he wanted to run. As a result, they screamed their way up the inside rail. Barely Legal had taken off at a speed just as fast, and had settled nicely a length behind the black two year old. Stanley wasn’t worried in the slightest, the four year old filly was experienced, and she knew how to let an over energized colt run himself down. She kept a brisk, easy pace, still pushing hard but in a conservative manner. Ahead of them, filled with confidence, Fleet Street threw his head.
It was before they neared the half-way point that Legal decided to move, and Stanley pulled up the reins, uncertain about letting her go so early on. Yet it was clear that Fleet Street was running himself out, and Legal just wanted to go. After losing to Heroine, she wanted to get back in control. Without a second thought, Stanley relinquished it to her. Barely Legal immediately gunned it, and within three strides was side by side with the black colt. The colt, taken off guard by her sudden approach, balked and let up the lead to her. Legal spared him no passing glance, and by he time he had recovered himself, they were a length ahead.
Stanley flattened himself to the filly’s neck, sensing her need for speed, and really let her take off, the horse fully extending herself as she reached out in full stride, a rocket that was simply unstoppable. Behind them, Fleet Street was eating up the track in a vicious attempt to get back in the lead, but he didn’t have the necessary energy reserves to get there. Madeline, sensing this, eased up on the reins and gave him a pat, signaling that it was okay to fade off the pace. The colt, ever determined, refused.
When Barely Legal rounded the corner for home, Fleet Street was in no way gaining, but he was definitely there, a brute force giving it all he had. The effort was admirable, but it would in no way allow him to catch Legal, who was running like her life depended on it, and she was really going fast. Stanley was surprised, for the creature was moving like she would be in the best of races, and it was thrilling. Even when they crossed the wire six lengths ahead of Fleet Street, she did not slow. Across the track, Descartes hit his stopwatch in disbelief. The filly had put on a performance of a lifetime, and in doing so had broken the track record. Fleet Street, reeling in aggression at the filly’s overtake, had run one of the workouts of his life, and the jockeys could barely pull their mounts to a halt as they nearly doubled around for a second lap. Stanley Newton could barely contain his laughter as Legal slowed to a jog and then a brisk walk, his hand moving up to rub against the filly’s sweating neck. One thing was most definitely for sure. Stanley had just gotten into the saddle of a remarkable filly, and he wouldn’t be leaving it anytime soon. By the next day, it had been arranged. Madeline would still ride Legal in the Dance To My Tunes stakes, but after that, Stanley would ride her. In return, Madeline would be picking up Speed Rush. For the girl who had never really clicked with Legal, it was more than she could ask for. It would be another good day for Blue Cross Estates.
"Roar"
Predator and Christopher Descartes for Libra Stakes
Apollo Bear and Madeline Walker for Love Stakes
Apollo Bear and Madeline Walker for Love Stakes
If there was one thing Apollo Bear didn’t know how to do, Madeline Walker observed, it was lose. He was the biggest sore loser she had ever seen. He pouted, he sulked, and he became almost impossible to work with. And then, after a few days of that, he almost couldn’t be made to stop working. It was like someone flipped a switch and Apollo Bear’s mood flipped with it. It was funny, it was terrifying, and more than anything else made Madeline think he had everything within him to be a champion. As it might be his last year running, she wanted that part of him to completely come to life.
Madeline loved Apollo Bear, she really did. He had been her very first mount when she came to the stable, and he had won impressively in multiple stakes, including the Summer Cup which had shaken the entire stable to its roots. He had been a bit of a celebrity, then, until Oliver Myers walked in with Paradise Island and all of the attention switched to her. The change had set Apollo Bear off, who had gotten use to the attention, and he had acted out until the head groom Louis Gerry had gone out of his way to make sure the big black colt knew he was loved. Still, it had been a while since Apollo Bear had been his winning self, and Madeline hoped it would start to change with the love stakes.
Predator had been enjoying his new level of racing as a G2, but if Apollo Bear noticed any difference at all, he simply didn’t care. He reacted as he always did when in the presence of the bay, and it wasn’t always pleasant. Usually the stable mates got along quite well, but with Apollo Bear being so on edge, he was practically baying for blood, and Predator was in no way a kind horse to start with, never mind add a challenging horse. The result was the two trying to have at it with each other, and Christopher Descartes was getting more and more tired as the bay underneath him fretted about, nearly wild in his attempt to get at the black colt, and the black colt did the same. In the end, they managed to get them under control in the only way they knew how. If they where so desperate to have at it, they could do so through the speed they possessed.
The two creatures took off like shots, fueling everything they had into the strides of their legs as they gunned down the stretch, absolute speed hounds in their attempts to out due each other. Predator was stalking the black colt in the most vicious way he knew how, and Apollo Bear was sprinting away only to drop back and tempt Predator to follow along at an even faster pace. In the end, it was one of the most violent speed duels Madeline had witnessed. Generally, Apollo Bear was cool and collected on the track, his breathing even and strides steady. Now, he was out of control, hot blooded and wild as he struck out to run Predator off his feet. His breathing was rapid and unsteady, his stride was more of a lunge and it was all Madeline could do to stay on board as Predator hunted them from behind. As suddenly terrifying as it was, it was also thrilling.
Apollo Bear was physically flaring, so hard he moved forward. It was as if he was some tumultuous force, shaking the earth in his wake. Behind them, however, Predator took his time, his neck arched in as regal a manner as ever, as if a blatant reminder of who had reached Grade Two status first. If anything, it drove Apollo Bear forward even faster. He was a force of his own, a black comet not even the sun god could have stopped. When they entered the backstretch, though, Predator had had enough of his lurking. Ever the horse to take charge, he rocketed off, taking Christopher along for the ride. Within three strides he was at Apollo Bear’s side, and from there it was a complete battle of utter speed. Both where determined races, both had only one simple task in mind: run, and do not stop running.
They crossed the line a mess of mane and tails and necks and noses, with no clear winner in the eyes of their riders. The horses, however, as they slowed, both convinced that they had won, fretted about as the champions they were in a flurry of arched necks and flurried hooves. When they finally came to a halt, side by side, they were amiable once more. Only Descartes, staring at his stopwatch, was completely taken aback. While people always tended to lie, time never did, and if time was always correct, then Alexander Descartes had two more winners on his hands, winners that could and would go the extra mile. Winners, that would no doubt be champions.
Madeline loved Apollo Bear, she really did. He had been her very first mount when she came to the stable, and he had won impressively in multiple stakes, including the Summer Cup which had shaken the entire stable to its roots. He had been a bit of a celebrity, then, until Oliver Myers walked in with Paradise Island and all of the attention switched to her. The change had set Apollo Bear off, who had gotten use to the attention, and he had acted out until the head groom Louis Gerry had gone out of his way to make sure the big black colt knew he was loved. Still, it had been a while since Apollo Bear had been his winning self, and Madeline hoped it would start to change with the love stakes.
Predator had been enjoying his new level of racing as a G2, but if Apollo Bear noticed any difference at all, he simply didn’t care. He reacted as he always did when in the presence of the bay, and it wasn’t always pleasant. Usually the stable mates got along quite well, but with Apollo Bear being so on edge, he was practically baying for blood, and Predator was in no way a kind horse to start with, never mind add a challenging horse. The result was the two trying to have at it with each other, and Christopher Descartes was getting more and more tired as the bay underneath him fretted about, nearly wild in his attempt to get at the black colt, and the black colt did the same. In the end, they managed to get them under control in the only way they knew how. If they where so desperate to have at it, they could do so through the speed they possessed.
The two creatures took off like shots, fueling everything they had into the strides of their legs as they gunned down the stretch, absolute speed hounds in their attempts to out due each other. Predator was stalking the black colt in the most vicious way he knew how, and Apollo Bear was sprinting away only to drop back and tempt Predator to follow along at an even faster pace. In the end, it was one of the most violent speed duels Madeline had witnessed. Generally, Apollo Bear was cool and collected on the track, his breathing even and strides steady. Now, he was out of control, hot blooded and wild as he struck out to run Predator off his feet. His breathing was rapid and unsteady, his stride was more of a lunge and it was all Madeline could do to stay on board as Predator hunted them from behind. As suddenly terrifying as it was, it was also thrilling.
Apollo Bear was physically flaring, so hard he moved forward. It was as if he was some tumultuous force, shaking the earth in his wake. Behind them, however, Predator took his time, his neck arched in as regal a manner as ever, as if a blatant reminder of who had reached Grade Two status first. If anything, it drove Apollo Bear forward even faster. He was a force of his own, a black comet not even the sun god could have stopped. When they entered the backstretch, though, Predator had had enough of his lurking. Ever the horse to take charge, he rocketed off, taking Christopher along for the ride. Within three strides he was at Apollo Bear’s side, and from there it was a complete battle of utter speed. Both where determined races, both had only one simple task in mind: run, and do not stop running.
They crossed the line a mess of mane and tails and necks and noses, with no clear winner in the eyes of their riders. The horses, however, as they slowed, both convinced that they had won, fretted about as the champions they were in a flurry of arched necks and flurried hooves. When they finally came to a halt, side by side, they were amiable once more. Only Descartes, staring at his stopwatch, was completely taken aback. While people always tended to lie, time never did, and if time was always correct, then Alexander Descartes had two more winners on his hands, winners that could and would go the extra mile. Winners, that would no doubt be champions.
She's A Hero Alright, But She's The Queen
Wishing For A Heroine and Stanley Newton for the SHINING STAKES*
Paradise Island and Jaimie Sandler for THE DIANA*
Paradise Island and Jaimie Sandler for THE DIANA*
If there was one name that was becoming popular around the estate, it was Wishing For A Heroine, and it wasn’t entirely for a completely good reason. The filly, ever since her climb to Grade Three status, had developed a bit of an attitude problem, and as she was about to embark in Blue Cross Estates’ first Triple Tiara bid, Alexander Descartes wanted it fixed. The filly, quite simply, believed she was in no other terms, royalty. Her transformation had been rather startling, as she had gone from an occasional troublemaker to a complete and utter nuisance. She lunged at the grooms, refusing to follow them, and bit and kicked at whatever got in her way. She walked about more like a dressage horse than a racer, her frame moving gracefully, her neck arched and head hanging finely. She had seemingly taken great pleasure in upsetting Barely Legal, who she had beaten in the Nunavut Derby and who since then had not been the same, the rivalry between the two boiling to such a point that Barely Legal simply refused to work with the bay mare. While it might have been funny at first, eventually Heroine even turned on the head groom, Louis Gerry, and once that occurred Descartes immediately knew that she was in need of an ego shot. The filly was just too full of herself, and it was high time she be knocked down a peg. The filly may not have lost a race yet under her blue silks, but that would definitely change if she couldn’t get over herself.
Descartes had formulated the only plan he deemed fit to work: Paradise Island. The filly was an absolute champion and the sweetest thing, but she was fiercely competitive and intolerant of challenging horses. As she was also the winner of the Y12 Triple Tiara, he hoped some of her luck might rub off on Heroine, and her superior experience would no doubt put the younger Everyday Hero filly back into her place. Even better, Paradise Island needed a work just as badly as the Sprinter Triple Tiara hopeful, as she would be running in The Diana the week before Heroine took on her first leg. All in all, it most definitely was an exciting buildup, one that would be made much better by the relaxation of Heroine.
Stanley Newton, the filly’s jockey, looked on with a bit of contempt as not one but three grooms struggled to get her under control. The dark bay was not merciful, she nipped and kicked and threw off her tack as they soon as they attached it, her eyes fiery and head held high. It was a bizarre superiority that Stanley had not sensed in the horse before, and he felt that it would only move to conflict the horse and throw her off in the races. As for Jaimie Sandler, the jockey of Paradise Island, she looked on as she always did, with a great smile at the beautiful bay, who stood still and calm, chewing slightly on the bit in her mouth as she was saddled. At the rail, out to watch two of his prized fillies work, stood Oliver Myers. At the sight of the dark bay’s tantrum he sighed deeply. Ever since the announcement that Heroine would run the Sprinter Triple Tiara, the press had been relentless, and he was more than concerned that upon the discovery of the filly’s new personality, the scales would not tip in their favor. For the moment, the staff at the estate had managed to keep out the reporters that came knocking, but Oliver feared that sooner or later Heroine’s status would make it onto a notepad, and would from there without a doubt wind up everywhere he didn’t want it to be. Simply, he wanted his filly fixed, and if it meant he could watch Paradise Island shred the track in the meantime, he was game to observe.
With the assistance of Louis Gerry and three other grooms, and the distraction of sugar cubes, Wishing For A Heroine was settled down successfully and tacked up, though rather begrudgingly, as she still took it upon herself to snap at the groom to her right, who was the most unknown among the lot. As the groom tripped over himself in his desire to get away, Descartes very nearly almost broke a smile. Stanley Newton was not grinning, however, as he approached the sudden train wreck of a horse the three year old had become, not frightened but instead respectful of the new parameters the horse had set. She let him come, watching him closely as he approached and let him climb aboard, though her ears lay flat back when he reached for the reins, and the contours of her body tightened in a way that sat unwell with Stanley. Nevertheless, he slipped and looped the reins through his hands and nudged her sides, steering her after Paradise Island and out onto the track. Ahead of them, the lighter bay tiptoed along happily, her gate free and gentle and alert as she stepped onto the smooth track and gazed ahead, eager at the prospect of a run, and Jaimie Sandler reached down with a smile to pat her neck. Heroine, however, was not placated. The mere sight of an opponent had her blood boiling, and she all but dislocated Stanley’s shoulders as he pulled back against her suddenly vicious attempts to have at it with Paradise Island. The seasoned racer stood at first oblivious to Heroine’s pursuit, but as the dark bay caused more and more commotion, it was enough for the Tiara winner to know. This was business now, and she was about the absolutely ruin the filly.
Wishing For A Heroine fought against Stanley’s hold on her for what seemed like ages, bucking around and rearing aggressively as she attempted to ram the lighter bay. Each time she would build up she would be met by Stanley’s unyielding arm and an increasing pain in her mouth, but the feeling may not even have existed for all the motivation it gave her. She had not just enjoyed the feeling of besting her competition, she had loved it, and having not been given a constructive way to fuel her energy, she had acted out. This was the result. Eventually, sensing that Heroine would not calm down anytime soon, he simply glanced at Jaimie Sandler and gave her the go ahead. Without delay, the young jockey signaled Paradise into a gallop, and she rocketed off. At their takeoff, Stanley immediately let up the reins and simply held on as Wishing For A Heroine took off in a quest for blood, her body giving in to the fires that fueled her speed.
Where Heroine was fast, she was also distracted from her speed, and Paradise Island was cruising at a pace an unfocused horse would have no chance of catching. The instructions had been simple. They were going to run Heroine off her feet, and they where going to run her into last. From there, they could take to rebuilding her, but first she had to be made to lose. At first Oliver Myers had wanted to pit the filly up against all of their Grade 1 stock, but Descartes had waved him off. Why tire out a pack of horses that didn’t need it when Paradise Island could get the job done and train for her next race?
The pace was one of the fastest Descartes had seen, Jaimie was really driving Paradise to keep a good solid lead on Heroine and Heroine was malevolent in her desire to catch and overtake them. Everything about her foretold of her desperation, from the frantic lunge of her body to the snaps of her neck. With no direction at all from Stanley, she was running the race blind, putting out too much speed too fast. The result was predictable. She couldn’t keep up, the slowed down, and she grew frustrated. The instant Heroine fell off the pace, Descartes waved them back and set them up again, Stanley once again restraining Heroine from flipping out. Once again, Paradise Island was sent off and once again Heroine followed and died out. They repeated the cycle three more times to make sure both got the appropriate workout, and from there, Descartes called them in for the day.
Heroine was practically dead on her feet, so exhausted she was. Where Paradise Island walked with a high head and a bounce in her step, the Everyday Hero filly’s neck hung low. She had been beaten, and she had been beaten bad. From behind the fence, Oliver Myers smiled, one that was echoed by Descartes. Now that the filly had been reprimanded, she could be fixed, and then all of them could rest easy during her Triple Tiara attempt.
Descartes had formulated the only plan he deemed fit to work: Paradise Island. The filly was an absolute champion and the sweetest thing, but she was fiercely competitive and intolerant of challenging horses. As she was also the winner of the Y12 Triple Tiara, he hoped some of her luck might rub off on Heroine, and her superior experience would no doubt put the younger Everyday Hero filly back into her place. Even better, Paradise Island needed a work just as badly as the Sprinter Triple Tiara hopeful, as she would be running in The Diana the week before Heroine took on her first leg. All in all, it most definitely was an exciting buildup, one that would be made much better by the relaxation of Heroine.
Stanley Newton, the filly’s jockey, looked on with a bit of contempt as not one but three grooms struggled to get her under control. The dark bay was not merciful, she nipped and kicked and threw off her tack as they soon as they attached it, her eyes fiery and head held high. It was a bizarre superiority that Stanley had not sensed in the horse before, and he felt that it would only move to conflict the horse and throw her off in the races. As for Jaimie Sandler, the jockey of Paradise Island, she looked on as she always did, with a great smile at the beautiful bay, who stood still and calm, chewing slightly on the bit in her mouth as she was saddled. At the rail, out to watch two of his prized fillies work, stood Oliver Myers. At the sight of the dark bay’s tantrum he sighed deeply. Ever since the announcement that Heroine would run the Sprinter Triple Tiara, the press had been relentless, and he was more than concerned that upon the discovery of the filly’s new personality, the scales would not tip in their favor. For the moment, the staff at the estate had managed to keep out the reporters that came knocking, but Oliver feared that sooner or later Heroine’s status would make it onto a notepad, and would from there without a doubt wind up everywhere he didn’t want it to be. Simply, he wanted his filly fixed, and if it meant he could watch Paradise Island shred the track in the meantime, he was game to observe.
With the assistance of Louis Gerry and three other grooms, and the distraction of sugar cubes, Wishing For A Heroine was settled down successfully and tacked up, though rather begrudgingly, as she still took it upon herself to snap at the groom to her right, who was the most unknown among the lot. As the groom tripped over himself in his desire to get away, Descartes very nearly almost broke a smile. Stanley Newton was not grinning, however, as he approached the sudden train wreck of a horse the three year old had become, not frightened but instead respectful of the new parameters the horse had set. She let him come, watching him closely as he approached and let him climb aboard, though her ears lay flat back when he reached for the reins, and the contours of her body tightened in a way that sat unwell with Stanley. Nevertheless, he slipped and looped the reins through his hands and nudged her sides, steering her after Paradise Island and out onto the track. Ahead of them, the lighter bay tiptoed along happily, her gate free and gentle and alert as she stepped onto the smooth track and gazed ahead, eager at the prospect of a run, and Jaimie Sandler reached down with a smile to pat her neck. Heroine, however, was not placated. The mere sight of an opponent had her blood boiling, and she all but dislocated Stanley’s shoulders as he pulled back against her suddenly vicious attempts to have at it with Paradise Island. The seasoned racer stood at first oblivious to Heroine’s pursuit, but as the dark bay caused more and more commotion, it was enough for the Tiara winner to know. This was business now, and she was about the absolutely ruin the filly.
Wishing For A Heroine fought against Stanley’s hold on her for what seemed like ages, bucking around and rearing aggressively as she attempted to ram the lighter bay. Each time she would build up she would be met by Stanley’s unyielding arm and an increasing pain in her mouth, but the feeling may not even have existed for all the motivation it gave her. She had not just enjoyed the feeling of besting her competition, she had loved it, and having not been given a constructive way to fuel her energy, she had acted out. This was the result. Eventually, sensing that Heroine would not calm down anytime soon, he simply glanced at Jaimie Sandler and gave her the go ahead. Without delay, the young jockey signaled Paradise into a gallop, and she rocketed off. At their takeoff, Stanley immediately let up the reins and simply held on as Wishing For A Heroine took off in a quest for blood, her body giving in to the fires that fueled her speed.
Where Heroine was fast, she was also distracted from her speed, and Paradise Island was cruising at a pace an unfocused horse would have no chance of catching. The instructions had been simple. They were going to run Heroine off her feet, and they where going to run her into last. From there, they could take to rebuilding her, but first she had to be made to lose. At first Oliver Myers had wanted to pit the filly up against all of their Grade 1 stock, but Descartes had waved him off. Why tire out a pack of horses that didn’t need it when Paradise Island could get the job done and train for her next race?
The pace was one of the fastest Descartes had seen, Jaimie was really driving Paradise to keep a good solid lead on Heroine and Heroine was malevolent in her desire to catch and overtake them. Everything about her foretold of her desperation, from the frantic lunge of her body to the snaps of her neck. With no direction at all from Stanley, she was running the race blind, putting out too much speed too fast. The result was predictable. She couldn’t keep up, the slowed down, and she grew frustrated. The instant Heroine fell off the pace, Descartes waved them back and set them up again, Stanley once again restraining Heroine from flipping out. Once again, Paradise Island was sent off and once again Heroine followed and died out. They repeated the cycle three more times to make sure both got the appropriate workout, and from there, Descartes called them in for the day.
Heroine was practically dead on her feet, so exhausted she was. Where Paradise Island walked with a high head and a bounce in her step, the Everyday Hero filly’s neck hung low. She had been beaten, and she had been beaten bad. From behind the fence, Oliver Myers smiled, one that was echoed by Descartes. Now that the filly had been reprimanded, she could be fixed, and then all of them could rest easy during her Triple Tiara attempt.
She's A Hero Alright, But He Is Speed
Speed Rush and Madeline Walker for the Smiley Stakes
Wishing For A Heroine and Stanley Newton for the SHINING STAKES*
Wishing For A Heroine and Stanley Newton for the SHINING STAKES*
If nothing else could be said for the Everyday Hero filly, she had at least begun to change. Now, instead of stampeding about everywhere she walked, she sulked, and sulked fiercely. The filly had seemingly lost her competitive edge, and it made Alexander Descartes frown. He hadn’t wanted to break the filly’s spirit by sending her against Paradise Island, just wanted to put her in check. He had expected a bit of sulking, but not five days worth of it. The Shining Stakes was rapidly approaching, and along with it Allouette Divine. Ever since Grayson Meadows had announced the filly’s entrance into the Sprinter Triple Tiara, she had become Heroine’s main rival, the horse she would need to beat out for the win. In Heroine’s current state, there was no way she’d pose the slightest threat to the bay filly. Descartes of course knew she could beat her, he just needed to reignite her spark.
At first, they had tried Prideful Limits. The colt was perhaps their best sprinter, a perfect combination of pure guts, courage, speed and drive that had lead him all the way into Grade One status. Yet Heroine gave him one look from under her racing silks and flat out refused to even pick up a canter, and despite Stanley’s urging, she could not be made to run, and Descartes was forced to put them away and try again. After some thinking, he had chanced pulling out Barely Legal, hoping that allowing the filly to see a competitor she had defeated would refuel her confidence, but that was simply disastrous. Barely Legal, still completely shot over how Heroine had beaten her, had thrown a fit and full out rushed Heroine, and for a moment Descartes feared they would injure themselves until Heroine dodged the angry bay and Louis Gerry lead the infuriated filly back to her own side of the barn.
Finally, Descartes felt he had found a match. Four year old new comer Speed Rush was also the son of a Hall Of Famer, and was about the fiercest sprinter around. When he hit the track, he did it to annihilate the competition more than he did so to win the race. He was a monster, and if anyone could kick the life back into Heroine, it would be him. It would be a hesitant meeting, however, as Madeline Walker was new to the horse and his aggression, and Heroine was still a bit shaken after the Barely Legal encounter. Still, when Descartes called them to the field in the early morning, they came, and their mounts followed.
When it was said that Speed Rush was cruel, they meant he was really, truly cruel, in a way that made Predator look like a puppy. The bay colt was out of control, a true menace in the way he strutted about, dragging and trampling and stampeding whatever dared to step into his path. Behind him, Madeline Walker approached rather hesitantly. She was usually given the mounts that could behave themselves, and Descartes’s son Christopher took the wild rides. This would be the first time she would be controlling such an aggressive creature, and she was a bit apprehensive about the whole thing. Descartes, however, was looking forward to the affair, in the hopes that it would pull Heroine out of her near depression.
Speed Rush turned fierce the instant Madeline lowered herself onto his back, the big bay rocking and lunging about as the prospect of running neared. Aboard him, Madeline did her best to hold him back, but the Speed Demon colt could barely be contained as he fought for control. Across from him, pitifully quiet, Wishing For A Heroine stood still and calm, her grooms ever so relaxed as they saddled her. It was a sight that did not sit well for Descartes or for the filly’s jockey, who sighed. The trademark minx the filly had once been was gone, and he wanted it back. It was her entire personality, what made Stanley excited to ride her, and she just wasn’t the same horse without it. Stanley’s eyes trailed over Speed Rush. He was their last chance at getting a rise out of her.
Stanley mounted the filly unassisted and balanced himself within her frame, his hands adjusting the reins before he asked her to move onto the track. Though she resisted, her ears pinning back, she followed his guide. Behind them, almost impossible to restrain, Speed Rush fought to enter the gate first, nearly pulling Madeline’s arms off in his desire. Still, even as the bay fought competitively from a distance, the filly remained unbothered. Descartes gave the order for Madeline to allow the colt closer, to uncomfortable lengths, and sat back to observe if the match would work. The instant Madeline relaxed the reins, Speed Rush turned wild. He plowed forwards toward Heroine like a savage, clawing at the ground to take down the competition. He was the purest, most evolved product an equine could become, a psychotic episode trapped inside a four legged giant. He was brilliant, and he was terrifying. Though apparently, not very much to Heroine.
Descartes sighed, about to call it off and have the horses put away, when he suddenly stopped, staring hard at the Everyday Hero filly. For a minute, it was like there had been a flicker, a twitch of her ear or a blink of her eye that indicated some sort of interest. Descartes waited, allowing Speed Rush to rage until- there. A flicker, the turn of her head, the flare of her nostrils, the scrape of her right hoof against the sediment of the track. There was his champion. There, simply, was Wishing For A Heroine. Catching both jockeys by surprised, he raised his hand, clicked his watch, and signaled for the race to begin.
For a moment, Stanley and Madeline just stood gaping at one another in confusion, one at a standstill while the other battled an epidemic. Stanley had yet to notice the change in his mount, the coiling of her muscles, and Madeline wasn’t even certain if Speed Rush would go the right way if she let him go. They both glanced back at Descartes, thinking they had seen wrong, but he waved again, clearly, and that was that. Hesitantly, under the signal of the trainer, Madeline jerked Speed Rush’s head straight and let him go. The colt, almost visibly on fire, rocketed off like the animal he was. Stanley, not expecting any response from Heroine, had to cling to the dark bay’s neck when she suddenly took off with equal power, her body screaming in an age old, primal instinct to run, and never stop. Watching from the wire, both Oliver and Rosaline Myers, as well as Descartes and a handful of stable hands, threw up their hands in celebration as the filly turned up the heat.
If Speed Rush had been angry at Heroine from a stand still, he was enraged with her at a gallop. His sudden forward momentum jolted to a halt as he attempted to put the brakes on and drop back to ram the filly attempting to gain on him. Aboard him, Madeline Walker urged him forwards with as much force as she dared. Descartes had not been lying when he warned her of the colt’s fire. Speed Rush was a winner, and if he wasn’t that, he was a killer. There was no in-between. From behind, suddenly aggressive and renewed, Heroine threw up her head and set taut against the wind, mane flying and sides inflating with the power of her breath as she screamed after Speed Rush. Stanley, at first stunned by the breath taking performance Heroine had pulled from her, noted the rapid deceleration of Speed Rush and directed his filly to the rail, a place where she seemed to flourish. When Speed Rush finally dropped to their side, the two ran stride for stride.
For one turn, Speed Rush gave them no problems except the discomfort of not being in front. Then, the second they hit the straight away, Speed Rush was pressing too close for comfort, his shoulder rubbing at Heroine’s, his flanks hitting against her in a manner meant to push and deter her. Madeline stiffened, pulling hard at Speed Rush, attempting to pry him from the filly, but the colt refused. The only chance at avoiding a collision would be a willingness on Heroine’s part to move up and take control. Without pause, Stanley asked for the move. For one terrifying moment, Stanley feared Speed Rush would crush them into the rail. Then he felt the hitch- the one he always felt when Heroine was getting ready to rally, and he flattened himself into the horse and drove her forwards. The filly, as if part of the wind and sky itself, took flight and soared by Speed Rush, gunning it down the home stretch. Speed Rush, whose momentum had been cut by the move, faded behind them, and Heroine spared him no glance. The fire was back in her eyes, and she was once again in it for the win. She and Stanley headed to the finish line once more as a team, the filly’s head high, her ear’s forward.
Descartes hit the stopper on his watch as they flew by, all those surrounding him throwing up hands in celebration at seeing the filly running again. Descartes merely allowed for a slight smile as he watched Stanley slow the filly down and Madeline struggled to keep the now enraged Speed Rush under wraps. In the end, she ended up turning him about and heading off down the end of the stretch away from his opponent. One thing was for sure, Speed Rush would be rearing for a win come his race, and whatever horse set out to stop him from reaching it would need to be willing to lose a leg on the way by. As for Heroine, she looked like the filly that had won the Kentucky Oaks again, her gait like and neck arched as the thrill of victory flooded through her. Descartes couldn’t help but let his smile grow. The filly was going to be just fine.
August Week 1
She's Our Hero
Wishing For A Heroine and Stanley Newton for SHINING STAKES*
Over the past few days, Wishing For A Heroine had done a complete one-eighty. Ever since her workout against Speed Rush, the filly had been rejuvenated. She had a prance in her step again, a flourish to the arch of her neck and the twist of her head and the placement of her hooves, and it was enough for Descartes to know that she was going to hit the Shining Stakes like the force of nature she was, because he could see it in her. She was twice the horse she had been in the Kentucky Oaks, twice the speed and twice the power and twice the unstoppable mindset that had been so prevalent in her father. She was every bit his daughter, and Descartes really just couldn’t wait to show her off. He truly believed that the reason for her loss in the Triple Tiara was due simply to the fact that she was better fit to sprints. She had given her best performance over the Kentucky Oaks, but when the Mother Goose came around she had simply been unable to go at her preferred pace, which was equivalent to that of a rocket, and go nine furlongs like the speed machine she was. Simply put, Descartes knew she would unstoppable as a sprinter, he had seen her run, and this was why her Triple Tiara had gone downhill so fast. Now, running only five furlongs, she would be able to run at the speed of sound if she wanted and still have enough energy to best Allouette Divine.
The Grayson Meadows filly was the only other entrant that had dared to go up against Heroine in the Shining Stakes, Silver Serendipity had scratched and opted for the turf instead. As Heroine would now be running more or a match race, Descartes was even less worried. The filly did her best against one competitor, she could seek out weaknesses and run to force them out, her win in the Nunavut Derby against Barely Legal was proof of that, though her win in the Nunavut had really been proof of everything to Descartes. While it was a minor race, she had gone up against an older mare and had really just crushed her, running her fastest time yet. Descartes had no doubts that when it came down to it, Allouette Divine would be left behind. The Grayson Meadows filly was a strong closer, which suited Heroine’s running style to a tee. The Everyday Hero filly liked to be in front and liked to set the pace. Once in front the filly sought to put forth as much distance as possible between the horses behind her, and once she got going with such forward momentum, they simply couldn’t catch her, and they definitely wouldn’t over just five furlongs. It was over that length that she gunned it the hardest, and it would be over that length that she would take on and take down Allouette Divine. In Descartes eyes, his filly had everything the Grayson Meadow’s filly didn’t. Everyday Hero was a proven speed hound, a vicious winner, and Allouette came from unknown lineage. While pedigree didn’t mean everything, it certainly could mean a lot, and in the case of this particular race, it meant more than usual. Not only did Heroine have the pedigree to back a bite to her bark, but she was simply on another level, coasting along smoothly at G3 status while Divine sat at G4. If that simply wasn’t enough, Allouette Divine was flaky on her runs with the girls. While she should clear dominance over the boys, she hadn’t seemed to place a solid win in a filly’s race yet, and Descartes was positive that she wouldn’t star with Heroine. In his eyes, and in her own, she was simply too good.
Finally, out she came, the darker bay glorious in her approach to the track. She was happy again, Descartes could see it, as could her jockey. Stanley Newton took one look at his mount and grew excited. The filly was practically a livewire in the way she wanted to run, her body swaying about and trembling in her desire to let loose and gun it up the stretch. The past week she had been working regularly over five furlongs against the fastest sprinters Blue Cross Estates had, and she had performed excellently. Simply put, the filly was ready.
Stanley Newton swung up into the saddle, the filly growing even more willing and excited as he guided her towards the track, and the frolicked about, ears tipped forwards and head raised and alert. She was practically walking on sunshine, so strong and flamboyant where her strides, and it made Stanley grin. From behind the fence, Descartes matched his smile, “You know what to do, Stanley. Just let her run her race, she’s got enough heart to carry her through and then some. Keep her tight and snug, don’t let her waste anything unnecessary. You’re going to be great, she’s running even better than she was during her Kentucky Oaks,” Descartes stated, and that was enough for Stanley to nod, his hand running over the smooth slope of the filly’s neck. “Well show ‘em not to mess with the heroes, won’t we Heroine?” He murmured to the lively bay, and she seemed to loosen at the words, allowing her muscles to heat and relax in preparation for her oncoming run. Without pause, she was directed into the starting gate, which they had been using to get the fastest break from her they could. If she could get in front of Allouette from the beginning, they wouldn’t even be running in the same furlong throughout the race. Stanley adjusted his reins and grabbed hold of the filly’s mane as she stood still and poised, her muscles locked and ready for the sound that would bring about her release.
The instant the bell rang and the gates opened, she dug hard into her preferred dirt and lunged forward, clawing at the ground on strong hooves as she took flight and left behind the ground, eating it up as she streaked from the gate like a natural disaster. The overlap of the gate opening and the horse exiting was so miniscule Descartes barely even had the time to see it. Instead, he saw the filly, already half a furlong in, just killing it in her performance as the gunned it up the stretch, almost a different species in the way she ran. She was beautiful in all her glory, strong and powerful as she had never before been and viciously sought with the desire to push and pull her way to the fastest level she had. She worked at one hundred and ten percent, and never less. Had she been lit aflame she could not have moved her body faster. She was nothing but speed, and speed was nothing but her.
As the filly flew by Descartes, he hit the stopper on his watch and laughed, just once in relief. All of the worry and all of the fear was gone, because this was the horse he had been looking for, that the entire Estate had been wanting. She wasn’t just a hero in the making, she was their hero, and she was going to prove it. Aboard her, Stanley Newton slowed her down gently, a grin stretched wide across his face as he reached down to pet the dark mane of the bay. “My oh my, Heroine. That Allouette Divine better have her hooves under her come race day, or you’re going to knock her right off them,” He stated, his affection for the filly shining in his words. Beneath him, as if agreeing, Heroine bobbed her head. She had never been more ready to hit a race, and she was going to hit it hard.
The Grayson Meadows filly was the only other entrant that had dared to go up against Heroine in the Shining Stakes, Silver Serendipity had scratched and opted for the turf instead. As Heroine would now be running more or a match race, Descartes was even less worried. The filly did her best against one competitor, she could seek out weaknesses and run to force them out, her win in the Nunavut Derby against Barely Legal was proof of that, though her win in the Nunavut had really been proof of everything to Descartes. While it was a minor race, she had gone up against an older mare and had really just crushed her, running her fastest time yet. Descartes had no doubts that when it came down to it, Allouette Divine would be left behind. The Grayson Meadows filly was a strong closer, which suited Heroine’s running style to a tee. The Everyday Hero filly liked to be in front and liked to set the pace. Once in front the filly sought to put forth as much distance as possible between the horses behind her, and once she got going with such forward momentum, they simply couldn’t catch her, and they definitely wouldn’t over just five furlongs. It was over that length that she gunned it the hardest, and it would be over that length that she would take on and take down Allouette Divine. In Descartes eyes, his filly had everything the Grayson Meadow’s filly didn’t. Everyday Hero was a proven speed hound, a vicious winner, and Allouette came from unknown lineage. While pedigree didn’t mean everything, it certainly could mean a lot, and in the case of this particular race, it meant more than usual. Not only did Heroine have the pedigree to back a bite to her bark, but she was simply on another level, coasting along smoothly at G3 status while Divine sat at G4. If that simply wasn’t enough, Allouette Divine was flaky on her runs with the girls. While she should clear dominance over the boys, she hadn’t seemed to place a solid win in a filly’s race yet, and Descartes was positive that she wouldn’t star with Heroine. In his eyes, and in her own, she was simply too good.
Finally, out she came, the darker bay glorious in her approach to the track. She was happy again, Descartes could see it, as could her jockey. Stanley Newton took one look at his mount and grew excited. The filly was practically a livewire in the way she wanted to run, her body swaying about and trembling in her desire to let loose and gun it up the stretch. The past week she had been working regularly over five furlongs against the fastest sprinters Blue Cross Estates had, and she had performed excellently. Simply put, the filly was ready.
Stanley Newton swung up into the saddle, the filly growing even more willing and excited as he guided her towards the track, and the frolicked about, ears tipped forwards and head raised and alert. She was practically walking on sunshine, so strong and flamboyant where her strides, and it made Stanley grin. From behind the fence, Descartes matched his smile, “You know what to do, Stanley. Just let her run her race, she’s got enough heart to carry her through and then some. Keep her tight and snug, don’t let her waste anything unnecessary. You’re going to be great, she’s running even better than she was during her Kentucky Oaks,” Descartes stated, and that was enough for Stanley to nod, his hand running over the smooth slope of the filly’s neck. “Well show ‘em not to mess with the heroes, won’t we Heroine?” He murmured to the lively bay, and she seemed to loosen at the words, allowing her muscles to heat and relax in preparation for her oncoming run. Without pause, she was directed into the starting gate, which they had been using to get the fastest break from her they could. If she could get in front of Allouette from the beginning, they wouldn’t even be running in the same furlong throughout the race. Stanley adjusted his reins and grabbed hold of the filly’s mane as she stood still and poised, her muscles locked and ready for the sound that would bring about her release.
The instant the bell rang and the gates opened, she dug hard into her preferred dirt and lunged forward, clawing at the ground on strong hooves as she took flight and left behind the ground, eating it up as she streaked from the gate like a natural disaster. The overlap of the gate opening and the horse exiting was so miniscule Descartes barely even had the time to see it. Instead, he saw the filly, already half a furlong in, just killing it in her performance as the gunned it up the stretch, almost a different species in the way she ran. She was beautiful in all her glory, strong and powerful as she had never before been and viciously sought with the desire to push and pull her way to the fastest level she had. She worked at one hundred and ten percent, and never less. Had she been lit aflame she could not have moved her body faster. She was nothing but speed, and speed was nothing but her.
As the filly flew by Descartes, he hit the stopper on his watch and laughed, just once in relief. All of the worry and all of the fear was gone, because this was the horse he had been looking for, that the entire Estate had been wanting. She wasn’t just a hero in the making, she was their hero, and she was going to prove it. Aboard her, Stanley Newton slowed her down gently, a grin stretched wide across his face as he reached down to pet the dark mane of the bay. “My oh my, Heroine. That Allouette Divine better have her hooves under her come race day, or you’re going to knock her right off them,” He stated, his affection for the filly shining in his words. Beneath him, as if agreeing, Heroine bobbed her head. She had never been more ready to hit a race, and she was going to hit it hard.
August Wk 3
Look At Me
National Treasure and Stanley Newton for the FRANKEL GREEN MILE*
Flashpoint and Madeline Walker for the RED WINE SPRINT*
Flashpoint and Madeline Walker for the RED WINE SPRINT*
If there were two horses in Stanley Newton’s eyes that had been getting the most overlooked, it was National Treasure and Flashpoint. He didn’t know why, but for a long time now he felt that others looked at them and thought nothing of them, didn’t even see them as threats, and the fact made Stanley Newton, well, a lot of things.
It made him mad. National Treasure was the winner of five HOTY races, no small accomplishment whatsoever. Then she had come to Blue Cross and ran to a third in the Duchess Stakes, disappointing but understandable, horses needed time to adjust to new surroundings before they could forge their way back to top form. Then, she had gone on to another third place finish in the Lure Green Mile, and it seemed that her threat level had dissipated entirely. While reputation wasn’t everything, it could definitely mean a lot, and heading into the Frankel Green Mile against such a killer field, Stanley wanted people to recognize Treasure as more than they currently did. As for Flashpoint, he was heading into the second leg of the Triple Sprinter Crown, going up against the heavy favorite Optimus Unstoppable. Flashpoint had recently just won the Independence Day Stakes, and would be headed into the Red Wine Sprint as the only G3 besides Alucard, beating him out as the most accomplished by two wins that had him on the border of G2 status. If he could pull off the Red Wine Sprint, it would be a fantastic announcement into the ranks of G2, and the effective end of Optimus Unstoppable’s attempt to claim the series. Still, it seemed that whenever the race was brought up, conversation remained fixed upon Allouette Divine being the one to upset the favorite. Sure, the filly was a fantastic horse, but Stanley felt that the Flash Limit’s colt brought something more to the table, and he couldn’t wait for it to be shown. Overlooked, the pair would be no more.
Stanley sat straight and focused on the back of National Treasure, waiting patiently atop the black filly as Madeline Walker guided Flashpoint out towards them. It was a cool, cloudy and grey day, and the track was completely barren absent for themselves and Descartes, and it all amounted to a very surreal need to prove just how good these horses could be. Madeline joined him out on the track within minutes, Flashpoint dancing along lively beneath her, and gave Stanley a nod which he returned. Very rarely were words exchanged out on the track between the two jockeys, and especially not when both were headed off into high stakes races.
They set to warming up the pair, who had become rather good friends as the weeks progressed, and therefore went along amiably, National Treasure stretching out gracefully as Flashpoint matched her stride for stride in their half a mile jog. When they returned to their starting line, both horses were warmed and loose, and completely ready to go. As they came to a meandering halt, both jockeys glanced toward Descartes. A light drizzle had started, and both horses blinked as the rain made its way down to them. Without pause, Descartes gave them the okay, and both jockeys relinquished their horses and took off into the rain.
Both horses liked to run behind a leader, so the first furlong was a massive struggle for both jockeys in trying to ease their horses into comfortable position. Finally Madeline managed to coax Flashpoint into a comfortable spot on the outside of Treasure, not too far ahead to erase the sudden security the colt found, but just so that Treasure could calm down in trying to jam herself behind them and throw off their momentum. Once positioned, both horses really took off.
Now that Flashpoint was unable to manage his own speed, Madeline did it for him, gently urging him along, carefully monitoring how much horse she had under her and how much Treasure would have to lose from herself for her to give in. Over the past few weeks, their relationship had changed completely. Flashpoint had gone from Madeline’s worst ride to one of her bests, from completely unresponsive to obeying at the simple touch of a hand. He was the best he had been in a long time, and Madeline couldn’t wait to bring him to the Red Wine Sprint. He was one of the best horses in the field, if not the best, and biased as she may have been, she really believed the colt had the heart and the guts to do it, even if it meant going through Optimus Unstoppable to do so.
Stanley Newton stood steadfast in the saddle of National Treasure, keeping the black filly cool and calm as they rounded the second turn. She was headed into her toughest race yet. The Frankel Green Mile was killer, with horses like Demonic Desires, In The Spotlight, and of course Paranormal Hunter, many could have easily assumed the filly was out of her element, and maybe, just maybe she was. Yet there was something that Stanley Newton knew to live inside this filly, and it was more than simple desire and heart and determination. It was the simple willingness to come first, to hit the track as hard as she could and to succeed. National Treasure was an excellent racehorse, and if her previous record was anything to show, she could do this. Stanley Newton believed in his filly, and he liked to think that his filly believed in him. They were a team, and they would take on this race together, Paranormal Hunter be damned.
The horses crossed the finish line in a flurry of manes and tails, Flashpoint flying over first and National Treasure gliding in after. Stanley had been told not to push her too hard, to save some horse for the Frankel, and he had done just that. Flashpoint has been out on a romp, just to loosen him up for the Red Wine Sprint after his win in the Independence Day Stakes. Needless to say, however, they were ready.
Believe In Her
Wishing For A Heroine and Stanley Newton for the PURPLE ROSE STAKES*
Stanley Newton could still see it. The vivid brown of the dirt, the vast number of the crowd, a nervous Alexander Descartes standing at the rail, forced to relinquish his control over the filly into the hands of fate. At the time, the trainer hadn’t wanted to show it, but Stanley Newton knew the sight of fear when he saw it, even hidden as it had been. The fear and uncertainty had been very real that day. “What do you mean Allouette Divine scratched?” Stanley had found him the morning of, Descartes yelling into his phone, “No Tommy, you tell me how the hell this happened. Then we’ll talk.” And from there the phone had been slammed down and a fist had hit the table and Stanley had just been left to watch in shock at the sudden anger that took over Alexander Descartes. The trainer had turned then, turned to look at him, red and shaking, and Stanley hadn’t know what to do. “Crowned Queen,” He had laughed, though there was no humor is the statement or in the tone. “Grayson Meadows has pulled out. Star Thoroughbreds has pulled in,” He had stated, and Stanley had felt his heart plummet. They had stood then, just staring at each other, dumbstruck. All of their hard work, all of their effort into turning Heroine into the horse they needed, it meant nothing now in the light of this last minute G1 chestnut filly looking to make herself known as the top dog in the division. Yes it had been painful, and of course it had hurt.
Oh indeed, Stanley could still see it. The fearlessness of their competitor, the already grinning face of the chestnut’s jockey. He could see the betting odds, Crowned Queen the heavy favorite, Wishing For A Heroine already lost to the wonder and poise and grace that was the daughter of Flying Colors. And he could see his hands, uncertain and shaking on the reins, could see the twitch of Heroine’s ears as they passed into the starting gate, the slight flinch of her neck as the gates slammed shut behind her. To his left, his rival gave him a wave, and after that he stopped looking anywhere but straight ahead. He would not show them his uncertainty, much as he had felt that very morning as he had made his way down the stables, his feet indirectly carrying him to the stall that had once contained all of their hopes, and he had looked in and there she had simply been, Wishing For A Heroine, as happy and oblivious to the situation as ever. It had been there, staring into the face of the bay filly, so completely at ease that Stanley had taken a step back to reevaluate. No, he had thought to himself, I won’t doubt my own horse, and after that moment he no longer did, just reached out and stroked the white stripe that split the bay colors of her face and smiled as the filly greeted him, relaxed and easy, her breath hot against his hand. “You never really have cared about numbers, have you Heroine?” He had asked and she had just blinked at him, snuffling against his skin in hopes of receiving a carrot, and he couldn’t help his grin. “No, we’re going to show them, you and me. We were made for this, yeah?” He had asked. Again, he got no response from the filly, but he wasn’t looking for one. He was looking for her eyes instead, for some flicker of something that would be able to carry them through. And maybe, just maybe he couldn’t find it, maybe all he saw was a reflection of his own doubts and fears. Stanley Newton let out a sigh and leaned against her stall door, watching as she grew bored with him and his lack of treats and turned back around in her stall. “I’ve got a history of believing in the impossible, you know,” He had said to no one in particular, Heroine wasn’t listening anymore, but he would still speak what he had to say, “Maybe that’s why I left, back at Thorn Woods. They didn’t believe either.” He had continued, only to pause and move away from the stall, nearly finished in his words. He gave the rim of Heroine’s stall a slight tap, not to regain her attention, but simply to act as some comfort to himself. “But I did, and I still do. And I believe in you,” And that had been that.
Then the gates had burst opened and Heroine had coiled up and sprung with all the might of herself and more and they had leapt out onto the dirt, and then they were running, and she was running, and the world was falling down under her hooves and Stanley Newton spared not a glance to his left, not one glance as they had flown down the stretch and around the turn and still, not five furlongs later had he dared to turn his head until they were across the line and there, on the board it was, Wishing For A Heroine in first and the excited screams of the Blue Cross corner and Stanley, never having felt such a fantastic feeling in his life, had leaned down and grabbed Heroine and thanked her, thanked her for being the horse she was, and that had been that. Wishing For A Heroine had taken the Shining Stakes with a prowess nearly everyone didn’t think she had within her. Now she would attempt to do it again.
And here she came, in all of her simple glory, ears forward and step gentle and elegant. She had been under strict watch lately, the staff had taken to giving the Shining Stakes winner some extra attention, and Descartes had feared the filly would take on extra weight. His fears had ended up unproven however. The Everyday Hero filly looked fantastic. She had a certain shine to her, a flourish of her neck that made a certain statement and made Stanley grin. He would be lying if he said he didn’t fiercely enjoy every moment he had around the filly. She was something fun and new, and he loved it.
She was in a good mood today -she always was, of course, but today was different- and it showed in everything she did, from the glint in the brown of her eyes to the placement of her hooves on the ground. She was art, really, living art and passionate fire slammed together into one unruly filly, and it really was just a fantastic combination. After that observation, Stanley got down to business, placing his helmet on and greeting the bay before he swung himself into the saddle, back straight and shoulders pulled back, and adjusted the reins before asking her to move out and onto the track. As she always did, she obeyed immediately, her body flowing smoothly into a trot, the coils of muscle that layered her skin contracting in such a manner that Stanley could feel it through his boots and took note of them, making sure to feel them out for any sort of flinch or hesitation. When he found none, he allowed a simple gaze to Descartes, and the older man nodded, stopwatch raised. They would be going over six furlongs today, as they had been all week, and again Heroine only seemed to be even stronger in her convictions to run, and it made Descartes smile. He had been right, then, in figuring that Heroine was suited for sprints. Now the entire world knew it too, and they would get to watch her show it again.
Stanley asked for a gallop and she gave it to him, stretching out the contours of her body in one mighty leap as she lunged forward into her characteristic run, a beautiful gait where she looked more like a dressage horse than a racer, and Oliver Myers had even joked that they set bows in her mane. Of course, the idea was ridiculous. If there was anything Heroine wasn’t, it was some proper dressage pony. No, she was fierce and fanatic and fast, and everything Stanley had needed her to be. In that moment, and every other moment he sat upon her back, she truly was his hero.
She was showing off her speed today, moving easy but quick, her stride large and head raised in that bold manner she always adapted when she wanted attention, and Stanley was happy to let her have her way, keeping himself tight and packed against her body and allowing her as much freedom to move as he physically could, and she responded too it happily, ears forward and head straight as they thundered through the fourth furlong without pause, the filly showing no signs of stopping. When they hit the fifth furlong and she was still going strong, that was when Stanley knew, and he couldn’t stop the grin from overtaking him.
At the rail, waiting for them to hit the end of the sixth furlong stood Descartes, and as the blew by him, a blur lost to wind and speed, he clicked the stopper of his watch and glanced down. He as well could not stop the smile that followed. She had soared through the five furlongs a whole second faster than she had in the Shining Stakes. One thing was certain, and that was if Crowned Queen really wanted this thing, she better be willing to run. Shaking his head, Descartes glanced up as Stanley and Heroine made their way back towards him, Stanley grinning and stroking the bays neck as she cooled down. “Well, what do you think, Stanley?” Descartes had asked. Without pause, Stanley had replied. “I believe in her,” He had stated, “And soon everyone else will too.”
Oh indeed, Stanley could still see it. The fearlessness of their competitor, the already grinning face of the chestnut’s jockey. He could see the betting odds, Crowned Queen the heavy favorite, Wishing For A Heroine already lost to the wonder and poise and grace that was the daughter of Flying Colors. And he could see his hands, uncertain and shaking on the reins, could see the twitch of Heroine’s ears as they passed into the starting gate, the slight flinch of her neck as the gates slammed shut behind her. To his left, his rival gave him a wave, and after that he stopped looking anywhere but straight ahead. He would not show them his uncertainty, much as he had felt that very morning as he had made his way down the stables, his feet indirectly carrying him to the stall that had once contained all of their hopes, and he had looked in and there she had simply been, Wishing For A Heroine, as happy and oblivious to the situation as ever. It had been there, staring into the face of the bay filly, so completely at ease that Stanley had taken a step back to reevaluate. No, he had thought to himself, I won’t doubt my own horse, and after that moment he no longer did, just reached out and stroked the white stripe that split the bay colors of her face and smiled as the filly greeted him, relaxed and easy, her breath hot against his hand. “You never really have cared about numbers, have you Heroine?” He had asked and she had just blinked at him, snuffling against his skin in hopes of receiving a carrot, and he couldn’t help his grin. “No, we’re going to show them, you and me. We were made for this, yeah?” He had asked. Again, he got no response from the filly, but he wasn’t looking for one. He was looking for her eyes instead, for some flicker of something that would be able to carry them through. And maybe, just maybe he couldn’t find it, maybe all he saw was a reflection of his own doubts and fears. Stanley Newton let out a sigh and leaned against her stall door, watching as she grew bored with him and his lack of treats and turned back around in her stall. “I’ve got a history of believing in the impossible, you know,” He had said to no one in particular, Heroine wasn’t listening anymore, but he would still speak what he had to say, “Maybe that’s why I left, back at Thorn Woods. They didn’t believe either.” He had continued, only to pause and move away from the stall, nearly finished in his words. He gave the rim of Heroine’s stall a slight tap, not to regain her attention, but simply to act as some comfort to himself. “But I did, and I still do. And I believe in you,” And that had been that.
Then the gates had burst opened and Heroine had coiled up and sprung with all the might of herself and more and they had leapt out onto the dirt, and then they were running, and she was running, and the world was falling down under her hooves and Stanley Newton spared not a glance to his left, not one glance as they had flown down the stretch and around the turn and still, not five furlongs later had he dared to turn his head until they were across the line and there, on the board it was, Wishing For A Heroine in first and the excited screams of the Blue Cross corner and Stanley, never having felt such a fantastic feeling in his life, had leaned down and grabbed Heroine and thanked her, thanked her for being the horse she was, and that had been that. Wishing For A Heroine had taken the Shining Stakes with a prowess nearly everyone didn’t think she had within her. Now she would attempt to do it again.
And here she came, in all of her simple glory, ears forward and step gentle and elegant. She had been under strict watch lately, the staff had taken to giving the Shining Stakes winner some extra attention, and Descartes had feared the filly would take on extra weight. His fears had ended up unproven however. The Everyday Hero filly looked fantastic. She had a certain shine to her, a flourish of her neck that made a certain statement and made Stanley grin. He would be lying if he said he didn’t fiercely enjoy every moment he had around the filly. She was something fun and new, and he loved it.
She was in a good mood today -she always was, of course, but today was different- and it showed in everything she did, from the glint in the brown of her eyes to the placement of her hooves on the ground. She was art, really, living art and passionate fire slammed together into one unruly filly, and it really was just a fantastic combination. After that observation, Stanley got down to business, placing his helmet on and greeting the bay before he swung himself into the saddle, back straight and shoulders pulled back, and adjusted the reins before asking her to move out and onto the track. As she always did, she obeyed immediately, her body flowing smoothly into a trot, the coils of muscle that layered her skin contracting in such a manner that Stanley could feel it through his boots and took note of them, making sure to feel them out for any sort of flinch or hesitation. When he found none, he allowed a simple gaze to Descartes, and the older man nodded, stopwatch raised. They would be going over six furlongs today, as they had been all week, and again Heroine only seemed to be even stronger in her convictions to run, and it made Descartes smile. He had been right, then, in figuring that Heroine was suited for sprints. Now the entire world knew it too, and they would get to watch her show it again.
Stanley asked for a gallop and she gave it to him, stretching out the contours of her body in one mighty leap as she lunged forward into her characteristic run, a beautiful gait where she looked more like a dressage horse than a racer, and Oliver Myers had even joked that they set bows in her mane. Of course, the idea was ridiculous. If there was anything Heroine wasn’t, it was some proper dressage pony. No, she was fierce and fanatic and fast, and everything Stanley had needed her to be. In that moment, and every other moment he sat upon her back, she truly was his hero.
She was showing off her speed today, moving easy but quick, her stride large and head raised in that bold manner she always adapted when she wanted attention, and Stanley was happy to let her have her way, keeping himself tight and packed against her body and allowing her as much freedom to move as he physically could, and she responded too it happily, ears forward and head straight as they thundered through the fourth furlong without pause, the filly showing no signs of stopping. When they hit the fifth furlong and she was still going strong, that was when Stanley knew, and he couldn’t stop the grin from overtaking him.
At the rail, waiting for them to hit the end of the sixth furlong stood Descartes, and as the blew by him, a blur lost to wind and speed, he clicked the stopper of his watch and glanced down. He as well could not stop the smile that followed. She had soared through the five furlongs a whole second faster than she had in the Shining Stakes. One thing was certain, and that was if Crowned Queen really wanted this thing, she better be willing to run. Shaking his head, Descartes glanced up as Stanley and Heroine made their way back towards him, Stanley grinning and stroking the bays neck as she cooled down. “Well, what do you think, Stanley?” Descartes had asked. Without pause, Stanley had replied. “I believe in her,” He had stated, “And soon everyone else will too.”
August Week 4
Paradise Is More Than Dirt
Paradise Island and Jaimie Sandler for THE TWILIGHT STAKES*
Disappointing, that had been the appropriate word to describe the past two weeks Blue Cross had experienced. Not one win, not even a good place or show for some, and a particular few had come in dead last. Needless to say, it was a bit of doom and gloom around Blue Cross, and it was something Jaimie Sandler wanted to change.
The young jockey wasn’t really all that familiar with short comings. Her only ride at the moment was Paradise Island, and as such she had only experienced the best of the filly’s excellence. On board the bay, she had romped to victory each time Paradise hit the track. Together they had made a brilliant comeback in the June turf stakes and together they had soared to victory in the Arlington Millions and then again in The Diana. They had done so up against some of the most vicious turf competition there was, and had still come out on top. Simply put, Paradise put the D in Dual. Ever since arriving at Blue Cross, she had failed to lose, no matter what surface she ran on. All of her three past turf victories had been building up to this one moment. The Twilight Stakes, where she would prove once and for all that she was not just the ultimate dirt or turfer, but the ultimate racehorse.
The filly was in a good if not slightly drowsy mood as Jaimie greeted her, she had been roused late for this workout, a habit they had gotten into ever since discovering the Twilight would be run in darkness. Since the announcement, the track lights had been turned on and Paradise had been left to sleep later in the morning in preparation for her evening run. The filly had of course adapted, as she seemed to do no matter what situation was presented to her, but still got a bit fussy in the few moments when she stood idle. Now, as Jaimie approached her, the filly’s ears shot up and she bobbed her head, eager to run as ever.
Sometimes, Jaimie wondered how the filly would like retirement, if she would at all. Paradise Island was a running machine, one that did best on and off the track when she was able to open up and fly. Retirement would mean a shift in the lifestyle she had become accustomed to, a stop to a constant world of running. Of course, Paradise Island deserved her rest, she had earned it. But occasionally Jaimie wondered if she actually would enjoy it. Her retirement was still far off in the distance though, and the Twilight Stakes were not.
Jaimie climbed into the saddle with a practiced ease, Paradise Island immobile as she mounted and adjusted what was necessary. At the first signal that she was ready, the bay sprung forward into a happy jog, eager for the track, and Jaimie didn’t fight the grin on her face as she eased the filly back into a walk. The adoration and love Jaimie felt for this horse was no secret. Paradise Island was her champion, and she would do everything in her power to make her shine.
They would be going up against their toughest field yet. Sure, none of the fields had been anything but the best of turf competition, but the Twilight would be something new altogether. Sure, Paradise Island had already gone up against Livin’ The Jazz and Ode To Glory and had left them far behind in the June Turf Stakes and the Arlington Million, and maybe if they had been her only competitors they could have relaxed. Instead, two other turf giants had come to make themselves known, ones that Paradise Island had never before dared to tangle with. She had been too dirt oriented at the time, the turf had been something no one had dared to place her on, never mind send her against the best turf horses there was. Blue Cross was not afraid though, they saw her for what she was.
Bella Luna and Infinite Warcry would be two giant obstacles standing between her and the wire. Of course, Paradise Island had already taken on Paranormal Hunter, thought to be Bella Luna’s equivalent, and had left the three year old turf queen behind by a whole half length in The Diana. She would be hoping to do the same with the Turf Triple Crown winner. Then there would be Infinite Warcry, another undisputed turf champion that would rival with Paradise for the finish line. He was five years old, however, and while age generally meant experience, in this particular case Paradise Island was the most experienced horse in the field, and they had reasoned that Infi’s age would instead slow him down instead of build him up, he would perhaps already be tired from the win he had to pry from Bella Luna in the Dare To Dream memorial. With 59 starts to rival that of Infi and Bella Luna’s 50, and 28 wins under her, Paradise was a horse to watch, having hit the track nine times more than her rivals and had won five times more than the both of them. She was definitely no pushover. Paradise Island was going to hit the Twilight with everything she had, and if statistics said anything, it would be enough to put them all away.
Statistics didn’t mean everything, though, and that was what caused the nervousness- well, not nervousness, uncertainty. This would be Paradise Island’s final hurray to the turf- her last chance to prove she could take on the best of both worlds and still come out on top. Then she would be hitting the dirt again to wrap up her final season, and then that would be that. The racing world would say goodbye to Paradise Island forever. But not before she left her mark on it forever.
They finished a brisk warm-up before heading back to the start line, Paradise tensing in preparation for the first release, her muscles coiled up, ready at the slightest signal to release and spring her forward. Jaimie raised herself in the saddle, taking slow breaths, before she glanced over at Descartes. He gave her a nod, and it was all she needed. She every so gently tightened her right knee, and that was it.
Paradise Island exploded forward, hooves digging deep into the turf as she launched herself like one might a rocket. Jaimie, use to this roaring start, sat tight and low in the saddle, and gently eased the reins a bit, reminding Paradise Island of herself, and the filly took the jet speed down a bit, still gunning it but not as hard as they made the first turn. As they rounded, Jaimie made the appropriate adjustments, checking the filly’s breathing and their speed and making sure she wasn’t giving too much at once. It was only really a half-hearted glance over, the filly new how to run a race, probably even better than Jaimie did herself.
Only as Jaimie thundered down the backstretch did she truly realize how fast they were going. Paradise Island was really flying this time around, no questions asked as she roared her way through the turf, moving beautifully and powerfully forward, a perfect example of everything a horse that loved to run should be. Once they hit the halfway mark, Jaimie felt the tensing of her neck, a silent question she always seemed to ask to her jockey, a questioning now? which Jaimie always returned with a nudge of her foot, a tug of the rein that said yes, now we can go and boy of boy, did the filly go.
There was the usual moment of suspension as the gears turned in Paradise’s brain and then throughout her body as she kicked it up a notch, and then the next time her right hoof touched the ground it was with a different intention, a new speed that sent them hurtling forward even faster, a nonstop ride to a first place finish. Her stride opened, her breathing sped up and with it they screamed down towards the wire as the unstoppable force they were.
They flew by Descartes with little intention of stopping and took a good furlong to slow themselves down to a walk. Jaimie gave only one glance back at Descartes, to his thumbs up to know they had done more than well. This was it. This was there moment, and they were ready.
The young jockey wasn’t really all that familiar with short comings. Her only ride at the moment was Paradise Island, and as such she had only experienced the best of the filly’s excellence. On board the bay, she had romped to victory each time Paradise hit the track. Together they had made a brilliant comeback in the June turf stakes and together they had soared to victory in the Arlington Millions and then again in The Diana. They had done so up against some of the most vicious turf competition there was, and had still come out on top. Simply put, Paradise put the D in Dual. Ever since arriving at Blue Cross, she had failed to lose, no matter what surface she ran on. All of her three past turf victories had been building up to this one moment. The Twilight Stakes, where she would prove once and for all that she was not just the ultimate dirt or turfer, but the ultimate racehorse.
The filly was in a good if not slightly drowsy mood as Jaimie greeted her, she had been roused late for this workout, a habit they had gotten into ever since discovering the Twilight would be run in darkness. Since the announcement, the track lights had been turned on and Paradise had been left to sleep later in the morning in preparation for her evening run. The filly had of course adapted, as she seemed to do no matter what situation was presented to her, but still got a bit fussy in the few moments when she stood idle. Now, as Jaimie approached her, the filly’s ears shot up and she bobbed her head, eager to run as ever.
Sometimes, Jaimie wondered how the filly would like retirement, if she would at all. Paradise Island was a running machine, one that did best on and off the track when she was able to open up and fly. Retirement would mean a shift in the lifestyle she had become accustomed to, a stop to a constant world of running. Of course, Paradise Island deserved her rest, she had earned it. But occasionally Jaimie wondered if she actually would enjoy it. Her retirement was still far off in the distance though, and the Twilight Stakes were not.
Jaimie climbed into the saddle with a practiced ease, Paradise Island immobile as she mounted and adjusted what was necessary. At the first signal that she was ready, the bay sprung forward into a happy jog, eager for the track, and Jaimie didn’t fight the grin on her face as she eased the filly back into a walk. The adoration and love Jaimie felt for this horse was no secret. Paradise Island was her champion, and she would do everything in her power to make her shine.
They would be going up against their toughest field yet. Sure, none of the fields had been anything but the best of turf competition, but the Twilight would be something new altogether. Sure, Paradise Island had already gone up against Livin’ The Jazz and Ode To Glory and had left them far behind in the June Turf Stakes and the Arlington Million, and maybe if they had been her only competitors they could have relaxed. Instead, two other turf giants had come to make themselves known, ones that Paradise Island had never before dared to tangle with. She had been too dirt oriented at the time, the turf had been something no one had dared to place her on, never mind send her against the best turf horses there was. Blue Cross was not afraid though, they saw her for what she was.
Bella Luna and Infinite Warcry would be two giant obstacles standing between her and the wire. Of course, Paradise Island had already taken on Paranormal Hunter, thought to be Bella Luna’s equivalent, and had left the three year old turf queen behind by a whole half length in The Diana. She would be hoping to do the same with the Turf Triple Crown winner. Then there would be Infinite Warcry, another undisputed turf champion that would rival with Paradise for the finish line. He was five years old, however, and while age generally meant experience, in this particular case Paradise Island was the most experienced horse in the field, and they had reasoned that Infi’s age would instead slow him down instead of build him up, he would perhaps already be tired from the win he had to pry from Bella Luna in the Dare To Dream memorial. With 59 starts to rival that of Infi and Bella Luna’s 50, and 28 wins under her, Paradise was a horse to watch, having hit the track nine times more than her rivals and had won five times more than the both of them. She was definitely no pushover. Paradise Island was going to hit the Twilight with everything she had, and if statistics said anything, it would be enough to put them all away.
Statistics didn’t mean everything, though, and that was what caused the nervousness- well, not nervousness, uncertainty. This would be Paradise Island’s final hurray to the turf- her last chance to prove she could take on the best of both worlds and still come out on top. Then she would be hitting the dirt again to wrap up her final season, and then that would be that. The racing world would say goodbye to Paradise Island forever. But not before she left her mark on it forever.
They finished a brisk warm-up before heading back to the start line, Paradise tensing in preparation for the first release, her muscles coiled up, ready at the slightest signal to release and spring her forward. Jaimie raised herself in the saddle, taking slow breaths, before she glanced over at Descartes. He gave her a nod, and it was all she needed. She every so gently tightened her right knee, and that was it.
Paradise Island exploded forward, hooves digging deep into the turf as she launched herself like one might a rocket. Jaimie, use to this roaring start, sat tight and low in the saddle, and gently eased the reins a bit, reminding Paradise Island of herself, and the filly took the jet speed down a bit, still gunning it but not as hard as they made the first turn. As they rounded, Jaimie made the appropriate adjustments, checking the filly’s breathing and their speed and making sure she wasn’t giving too much at once. It was only really a half-hearted glance over, the filly new how to run a race, probably even better than Jaimie did herself.
Only as Jaimie thundered down the backstretch did she truly realize how fast they were going. Paradise Island was really flying this time around, no questions asked as she roared her way through the turf, moving beautifully and powerfully forward, a perfect example of everything a horse that loved to run should be. Once they hit the halfway mark, Jaimie felt the tensing of her neck, a silent question she always seemed to ask to her jockey, a questioning now? which Jaimie always returned with a nudge of her foot, a tug of the rein that said yes, now we can go and boy of boy, did the filly go.
There was the usual moment of suspension as the gears turned in Paradise’s brain and then throughout her body as she kicked it up a notch, and then the next time her right hoof touched the ground it was with a different intention, a new speed that sent them hurtling forward even faster, a nonstop ride to a first place finish. Her stride opened, her breathing sped up and with it they screamed down towards the wire as the unstoppable force they were.
They flew by Descartes with little intention of stopping and took a good furlong to slow themselves down to a walk. Jaimie gave only one glance back at Descartes, to his thumbs up to know they had done more than well. This was it. This was there moment, and they were ready.