Post by SigOUrNeY on Jan 20, 2008 11:05:08 GMT -5
Part 1/2 [Click HERE for Part 2]
"That's because he isn't in his right mind," Mr. Duce grunted as he tightened the girth a notch. "Black Thumb used to be Justin's galloping partner on the track, and she really taught him how to race. I guess you could sort of say she's Blake's aunt."
Chris raised his eyebrows. Blake's sire had retired from the track a couple of years ago. "How old is Black Thumb, exactly?"
"She's seven," Mr. Duce said before giving Chris a leg up into the saddle. "And if anything, she's gotten better. Don't underestimate her, Chris. You should know better, after riding Tee. Age is just a number."
Chris picked up the reins and walked Blake out onto the polytrack where a black mare was jogging in place. Although Blake must have been over a hand taller, this mare didn't seem to care. She had finished growing years ago, and knew how her limbs worked. The black thoroughbred was muscular in every place a racehorse should be, and she seemed to know that she could run circles around whatever came up against her. Chris whistled admiringly as he rode up to Black Thumb and her rider.
"That's some horse," Chris said as breathed in the power that she seemed to radiate.
"She's been 'some horse' all these years," Her rider smiled, and nodded to Chris. "The name's Jake."
"Chris."
"Listen Chris, I was around when Amanda still rode Justin, and I was still riding Black Thumb back then. Your horse has big shoes to fill, and I only want to go against you today if you think Dangereux is up to it."
For a second, Chris was blown away, but then he nodded confidently. He knew for a fact that Blake had speed in him, but so far, he had failed to totally utilize it.
"Alright then," Jake said, picking up Black Thumb's reins. "Let's get these horses warmed up."
The process didn't take long for Black Thumb, because she was prancing and bucking the whole way around the track. Blake, however, seemed extremely bored, and acted like a little kid going to school on a Monday morning. Do I HAVE to?
Finally though, Blake was sufficiently warmed up and loose. Chris and Jake steered their horses in the direction of the gates, and Black Thumb practically bolted inside of it. Blake balked in front of his box, however, and threw up his head when Chris tried to make him go forward.
"Come on Blake, you're making yourself look like an idiot," And in his thoughts, Chris added 'And you're making me look like an idiot too.' Blake sighed heavily, and at the pace of a snail entered the starting gates reluctantly. The guard was shut behind him, and the pair waited for the starter to begin the match. Seconds ticked by, and then suddenly, the gates sprung open, revealing an empty track in front of them.
Black Thumb catapulted forward, and Blake followed after her. The start from the gate was usually his element – that’s how he got in front. But now, another horse was ahead of him, and he didn’t like it. Blake was so used to leading the pack – being the big daddy – that it infuriated him to know that another horse would take his charge away from him. Blake tried to only lengthen his stride so that he could get up beside her, and shove his way up front. But when his speed quickened, so did Black Thumb’s. The burly colt pinned back his ears in annoyance, and barred his teeth. He was about to take a chunk out of the black mare’s hide when Chris noticed his intentions and jerked his mouth back.
”You’re going to have to win this fair and square boy,” Chris leaned over his mount’s withers and spoke into the twitching ears. But Blake had been lazy for his entire racing career, why should he start trying now? Because he was proud. His pride was why he only wanted to run up front, why he only did what he felt like doing. Now he was being humiliated by a black mare, and he didn’t like it one bit.
They passed the first furlong marker. The race was only going to be six furlongs, and Black Thumb was beginning to increase her speed. She began to pull away effortlessly, and Blake’s eyes flashed with anger. The larger thoroughbred soon began to put more effort into his steps, and more purpose with each stride. He would not be made a fool of. The black bay was running in the hoof prints of his sire, and alongside the very same competitor. It was time to make his call.
The colt dug his heels into the dirt, and churned up the track as he kicked it up three notches. The monstrous horse burst forward in a frenzy of speed, and ate up the distance that Black Thumb had just opened up. He was at her flank now, and now he was at her shoulder. His head edged up beside hers, and for a second, their eyes connected. They communicated in a way only horses can, and in a way only competitors can. A challenge flew from their gaze, and fierceness cloaked their dark brown orbs. It was a race to the finish now – a race to come in first.
Black Thumb wasn’t finished yet. She still had a lot more left up her sleeve. As they swept by the third furlong, she began to go all out. The black mare was galloping with her head, and her rider urged her on. Dark legs pumped like an oiled machine, and took her farther away from her competitor.
Chris scrubbed his hands along Blake’s neck, asking for more. Blake gave it to him – the first time he ever had. This was the first time he ever really tried; the first time he was ever truly ‘going for the gold’. His black mane whipped Chris’ cheeks, and his ebony tail blew out behind him. The wind blew against his face and into his nostrils, and it was like a maiden voyage. Blake realized that this was it. This is what he truly wanted, needed to do. His blood pumped with the excitement of it, and his body quivered with the effort.
Now black and bay were side by side, just like they had been years ago. A forehead with a star bobbed alongside a flawless black face. This was it. Stride for stride, head to head. Their nostrils breathed the same air, and their eyes same the same finish line. For the next two furlongs they were the perfect pair, and until they came into the final yards, the chain connecting the two was unbroken.
Until Black Thumb pulled began drawing ahead.
It was barely noticeable at first, but soon it was evident that she was puling forward. Her nose was in front, and now her head. And no matter how much Blake tried, he couldn’t stop Black Thumb from finishing a neck in front of him. The two horses continued to gallop after the finish, but their jockeys soon hauled on the reins. Black Thumb obliged more easily, but Blake was putting up a fit. He crow hopped and reared on his hind legs, shaking his head furiously and striking out at the air. Angry steam rose from his sweat soaked body, and his breathes were heaving. It wasn’t possible. Had his very best not been good enough?
”I’m proud of you boy,” Chris said after he had coaxed Blake down to a walk. He clapped his hand against the colt’s muscular neck in praise, but that didn’t satisfy the thoroughbred’s burning rage. As he walked, his eyes connected with the black mare’s once more, and he made his promise. Never again will I finish second to you.[/ul][/size]
DANGEREUX
"That's because he isn't in his right mind," Mr. Duce grunted as he tightened the girth a notch. "Black Thumb used to be Justin's galloping partner on the track, and she really taught him how to race. I guess you could sort of say she's Blake's aunt."
Chris raised his eyebrows. Blake's sire had retired from the track a couple of years ago. "How old is Black Thumb, exactly?"
"She's seven," Mr. Duce said before giving Chris a leg up into the saddle. "And if anything, she's gotten better. Don't underestimate her, Chris. You should know better, after riding Tee. Age is just a number."
Chris picked up the reins and walked Blake out onto the polytrack where a black mare was jogging in place. Although Blake must have been over a hand taller, this mare didn't seem to care. She had finished growing years ago, and knew how her limbs worked. The black thoroughbred was muscular in every place a racehorse should be, and she seemed to know that she could run circles around whatever came up against her. Chris whistled admiringly as he rode up to Black Thumb and her rider.
"That's some horse," Chris said as breathed in the power that she seemed to radiate.
"She's been 'some horse' all these years," Her rider smiled, and nodded to Chris. "The name's Jake."
"Chris."
"Listen Chris, I was around when Amanda still rode Justin, and I was still riding Black Thumb back then. Your horse has big shoes to fill, and I only want to go against you today if you think Dangereux is up to it."
For a second, Chris was blown away, but then he nodded confidently. He knew for a fact that Blake had speed in him, but so far, he had failed to totally utilize it.
"Alright then," Jake said, picking up Black Thumb's reins. "Let's get these horses warmed up."
The process didn't take long for Black Thumb, because she was prancing and bucking the whole way around the track. Blake, however, seemed extremely bored, and acted like a little kid going to school on a Monday morning. Do I HAVE to?
Finally though, Blake was sufficiently warmed up and loose. Chris and Jake steered their horses in the direction of the gates, and Black Thumb practically bolted inside of it. Blake balked in front of his box, however, and threw up his head when Chris tried to make him go forward.
"Come on Blake, you're making yourself look like an idiot," And in his thoughts, Chris added 'And you're making me look like an idiot too.' Blake sighed heavily, and at the pace of a snail entered the starting gates reluctantly. The guard was shut behind him, and the pair waited for the starter to begin the match. Seconds ticked by, and then suddenly, the gates sprung open, revealing an empty track in front of them.
Black Thumb catapulted forward, and Blake followed after her. The start from the gate was usually his element – that’s how he got in front. But now, another horse was ahead of him, and he didn’t like it. Blake was so used to leading the pack – being the big daddy – that it infuriated him to know that another horse would take his charge away from him. Blake tried to only lengthen his stride so that he could get up beside her, and shove his way up front. But when his speed quickened, so did Black Thumb’s. The burly colt pinned back his ears in annoyance, and barred his teeth. He was about to take a chunk out of the black mare’s hide when Chris noticed his intentions and jerked his mouth back.
”You’re going to have to win this fair and square boy,” Chris leaned over his mount’s withers and spoke into the twitching ears. But Blake had been lazy for his entire racing career, why should he start trying now? Because he was proud. His pride was why he only wanted to run up front, why he only did what he felt like doing. Now he was being humiliated by a black mare, and he didn’t like it one bit.
They passed the first furlong marker. The race was only going to be six furlongs, and Black Thumb was beginning to increase her speed. She began to pull away effortlessly, and Blake’s eyes flashed with anger. The larger thoroughbred soon began to put more effort into his steps, and more purpose with each stride. He would not be made a fool of. The black bay was running in the hoof prints of his sire, and alongside the very same competitor. It was time to make his call.
The colt dug his heels into the dirt, and churned up the track as he kicked it up three notches. The monstrous horse burst forward in a frenzy of speed, and ate up the distance that Black Thumb had just opened up. He was at her flank now, and now he was at her shoulder. His head edged up beside hers, and for a second, their eyes connected. They communicated in a way only horses can, and in a way only competitors can. A challenge flew from their gaze, and fierceness cloaked their dark brown orbs. It was a race to the finish now – a race to come in first.
Black Thumb wasn’t finished yet. She still had a lot more left up her sleeve. As they swept by the third furlong, she began to go all out. The black mare was galloping with her head, and her rider urged her on. Dark legs pumped like an oiled machine, and took her farther away from her competitor.
Chris scrubbed his hands along Blake’s neck, asking for more. Blake gave it to him – the first time he ever had. This was the first time he ever really tried; the first time he was ever truly ‘going for the gold’. His black mane whipped Chris’ cheeks, and his ebony tail blew out behind him. The wind blew against his face and into his nostrils, and it was like a maiden voyage. Blake realized that this was it. This is what he truly wanted, needed to do. His blood pumped with the excitement of it, and his body quivered with the effort.
Now black and bay were side by side, just like they had been years ago. A forehead with a star bobbed alongside a flawless black face. This was it. Stride for stride, head to head. Their nostrils breathed the same air, and their eyes same the same finish line. For the next two furlongs they were the perfect pair, and until they came into the final yards, the chain connecting the two was unbroken.
Until Black Thumb pulled began drawing ahead.
It was barely noticeable at first, but soon it was evident that she was puling forward. Her nose was in front, and now her head. And no matter how much Blake tried, he couldn’t stop Black Thumb from finishing a neck in front of him. The two horses continued to gallop after the finish, but their jockeys soon hauled on the reins. Black Thumb obliged more easily, but Blake was putting up a fit. He crow hopped and reared on his hind legs, shaking his head furiously and striking out at the air. Angry steam rose from his sweat soaked body, and his breathes were heaving. It wasn’t possible. Had his very best not been good enough?
”I’m proud of you boy,” Chris said after he had coaxed Blake down to a walk. He clapped his hand against the colt’s muscular neck in praise, but that didn’t satisfy the thoroughbred’s burning rage. As he walked, his eyes connected with the black mare’s once more, and he made his promise. Never again will I finish second to you.[/ul][/size]