Post by SigOUrNeY on Jun 4, 2008 21:49:00 GMT -5
DANGEREUX
Sweet Silence stood placidly as young Emily Duce helped brush the knots out of her silver tail. The dappled thoroughbred had her eyes half closed in a weak attempt to stay alert, and her tipped ears swiveled without much motivation. The daughter of Acrocharger and Sweet Symphony had a hind foot propped up, and only seemed to pay some attention when she noticed Dangereux being led over. The dark bay charger was prancing and tugging at the lead rope that Chris Miller held, and was tossing his heavy head about, sending locks of ebony mane flying.
Simmy suddenly pricked her ears with interest and squared herself up. It was always entertaining to see how the precious baby of the farm seemed to doll herself up whenever a young colt was near – especially Blake, in whom she seemed to take a special interest.
The seventeen hand colt, however, was busy trying to pry his way from Chris, quieting down for a few steps before jerking his head back up and attempting to rear. Ever since his humiliating defeat by his sire’s – Just For Kicks – old rival, Black Thumb, Blake had become a completely different horse. He was more motivated, more determined. He’d only been raced twice since he was matched against Black Thumb, but both times he’d overpowered the field easily and won by a comfortable length. Now, Blake was in the best shape of his life. Thick muscles rippled under his shining coat, and although he seemed heavily built, the colt was quick on his feet and lean when stretched out in a full gallop.
There had been a lot more full gallops lately, and Blake was turning in miraculous times. Chris couldn’t let his mind wander, for the near black colt required his full attention, but had he the time to think, Chris would be remembering the fantastic work they’d had that morning…
The mist had still covered the track, and the sun was just beginning to peak a sleepy eye over the horizon. Blake had been ready to go, and was prancing alongside Sweeping Victory, who was being used to work the younger horses since Thee Warning was currently in foal. The gigantic thoroughbred towered over the small black mare, and although the scene easily looked like David and Goliath, Sweep was holding her own, and was busy nipping the rambunctious colt whenever he got too out of line. Sweep had had to rebalance herself every now and then, because the burly horse wouldn’t stop shoving and bumping into her. But Sweep was patient with her work, and got ample praise from her rider, Mr. Duce.
Blake had reared before the starting gate, and refused to be forced in. He thrashed as the assistant starters tried to shove him in from behind, and started kicking violently. Chris had needed to circle him around and make him stand still, facing the gate and talking to him patiently. Blake stayed stubborn for a few more minutes, but after a while his dark ears were no longer plastered back to his skull, and instead were listening to his rider. Finally, with a hesitant step, Blake started into the gate, and finally made it all the way in so that the bar could be shut behind him.
They were quickly released form the starting box, and Blake was out in a split second. Chris knew that the break from the gate was one of his mount’s strongest points, and the colt proved it today by rushing out of the crammed box as though his tail had exploded, and snatching at the bit. At first Blake had refused to accept the choking hold his rider had on him, but finally, he allowed his tongue to play with the iron bar and lowered his head until he relaxed into a regular pace. The first few furlongs weren’t a trouble, and passed on with a reliable speed. But after the fourth furlong, Chris began to slowly let the reins slip through his gloved hands. Blake had eaten up the extra rein greedily, and began extending his stride and speed. For the next two furlongs it was Chris slowly giving away the reins and Blake taking it in like a starved lion: giving and taking and giving and taking. There were two furlong left in the workout, and Chris knew his instructions. As soon as the striped marker swept past them, the jockey leaned forward over Blake’s withers and touched his flanks with the crop. The colt burst forward with all of the loose rein he needed, and stretched out his neck as far as it would go. He was running alone, just the way he liked it, and he was going all out.
Chris buried his head into the stinging mane, and closed his eyes as he pressed himself against the gigantic thoroughbred, who was pumping his muscles for speed. The young man clung onto the wild mane and scrubbed his hands up and down the wet neck, urging the horse on. Blake didn’t stop his blinding pace until Chris began to draw back on the reins and stand up in the stirrups – they had passed the mile marker. At first Blake refused, so pumped up by adrenaline that he didn’t dare stop. But his trust in Chris had grown over the past few months, and he knew that this wouldn’t be the last time he ran. As they jogged a cool down lap, Chris had caught sight of Mr. Duce’s pleased look from the sidelines. He didn’t need his boss to tell them that Blake had done an amazing job – he had felt it.
Now, back at the barn, with Blake jogging a circle around Chris and with Simmy snorting her greeting, the black bay looked as fine as ever. He was ready to run again, and asked Chris through his dark liquid eyes.
”Tomorrow, Blake,” Chris said as he got the horse down to a walk. The young man patted the colt’s cool neck, and felt the steel muscle underneath his hand. Yes, there would be another breath-taking workout tomorrow, and the next day after that – like Chris had that morning, he just felt it.