unquestionable faith

[Ripley Marsh]

Unquestionable Faith
featuring: Saintly Touch

After a relatively quiet start to his racing career, Saintly Touch had reached potential star status. Two wins against his own age group had allowed Saint to reach favoritism for the Kentucky Derby. There was a long way to go and many stables had not quite solidified where their stable stars would head. Everyone knew who they would be facing though. Saintly Touch had been destined to go the Kentucky Derby since Ripley Marsh and Kirsten Jade had sat down to discuss breeding Night Stalker and The Devil's Touch. The seal brown colt had lived up to the expectations, finishing only second to Sun King in Juvenile Colt of the Year polls. The colt had whipped through the Gallop To The Gallows and Breeders' Cup Juvenile Stakes, looking like he was only getting started at the end of his two year old season.

With the Unicorn Horn Dirt and Southwest Stakes under his belt, Saint had been training like a fiend for his next run. He'd gotten a tiny break from racing, but his workouts and gallops had been sensational. To say Saint wasn't on top of his game was a slight understatement. The LeComte Stakes was next. The nine and a half furlong race would be Saint's final prep for the Kentucky Derby. To say things were getting exciting around Witch Creek was a bit of an understatement. They had several candidates for the biggest races of the three year old season. The three year olds were the bright spot for the stable and they were more than doing their best to keep the giant above water.

Reese brushed Saint's hide with long strokes, admiring the colt. He was a handsome thing. He'd grown into his long legs and now stood at a proud 16.2 hands. He dozed between the cross-ties, hoof cocked and ears turned to the side. He wasn't too different from the take no prisoners race horse he'd been at the races last month. He was so relaxed before his races that he hardly seemed like he would be more than a last place finisher. Many bettors used reverse psychology on the Night Stalker colt. If he was keyed up, Saint was likely to run a bad race. If he looked like he could pass out at any second, the dark horse was going to make one of his now typical winning runs.

Reese didn't mind her sleeping giant. If that's what he did before his races, so be it. At least he wasn't working himself into an uncontrollable state of mind. She patted Saint's shoulder, watched the colt's eye which creaked open. The irritation that could be interpreted there made Reese grin. "Hey sleepy boy."

Ripley stepped from her office, shutting the door with a firm click. With a clang, Saint ripped the cross-ties from the wall, eyes wild with shock. Reese grabbed the hanging ropes, backed the colt a couple steps. The horse blew out a terrified snort, glanced over his powerful shoulder to latch onto Ripley with accusing eyes. She lifted her brows at his challenging look, but simply shrugged. Her heavily pregnant boss made Reese very nervous when she stepped up to the colt and rubbed his coat. The horse reached over, nuzzled at Ripley's belly. Nothing, not even Brooks, could get Ripley to stay out of the barn and away from her horses. Especially her Kentucky Derby horse.

"He looks good Reese. I'm impressed with how he's shaped up so far. Many others have run more than he has this season, but he just looks too good at the moment on the lighter schedule. We can't get too cute because the competition's tougher than it has been in years." Reese blinked owlishly at Ripley. Had she just heard Ripley correctly? Was that a compliment?

"He's running the gauntlet until the Belmont Stakes is over. Keep up the good work." Yup... that for sure was a compliment. Reese was tempted to hold a hand to Ripley's forehead to see if she was running a temp. "I'll meet you at the track."

Ripley smirked when her back was turned. Reese's silence was absolutely satisfying to say the least.

Shaking her head, the woman unclipped the broken cross ties from Saint's halter, shrugged off her coat and proceeded to bridle the horse. Now the horse was beginning to show signs of impatience. Ripley was like the bell in Pavlov's experiment. The colt twitched, tossing his head fiercely when Reese finally finished buckling the throat latch. She rolled her eyes at the colt's frustration, lead the colt to the mounting block and got on. She handled the horses better from the saddle. What did you expect when the cretins were 10x her size?

Saint further demonstrated his frustration by lifting into a rear immediately outside of the barn. Reese slammed forward against the colt, throwing him back to the ground. The Night Stalker son pawed the ground, eyes blazing with excitement. Justin moved so quickly that Saint never even saw him coming. The kid was at Saint's head before Saint even thought about taking another step. Justin hushed the colt, patted his arched neck and aimed a look at Reese. "Ripley will be ticked if he gets hurt."

Reese scoffed. "Well it's not my fault we deal with young horses. He hasn't done that in ages."

Justin shrugged his shoulders, ignoring her comment. Reese narrowed her eyes and decided she'd get back at him later. She tucked her whipped into his boot, deciding that perhaps today it was best to hide that implement. Saint was obviously too uppity today. Reese let out a sigh as the colt hit the track. Instantly, the edginess seemed to dissipate. The seal brown colt snorted, pranced sideways until Justin released him. With a buck and a snort, Saint launched into a gallop.

Ripley snatched the radio from Mal's pocket, "That's fine. Let him go. I want seven furlongs around 1:23. Get five in 1:00 and six in 1:11. Whatever he feels comfortable doing."

She clicked off the radio, aimed a look at Mal. "That horse is bent on taking years off my life."

Reese let out a string of unintelligible crooning sounds as Saintly Touch hustled up the homestretch toward the clubhouse turn. The powerful colt was very much on edge and very much in the bridle. He hauled Reese up out of her saddle, forcing her to lean back and give a little fight. Saint tossed his head, snorting in disgust, but gradually he relented. He settled into his strong stride, ears pricked and seemed to glide over the surface. When Saint was on, he was on and there was nothing stopping him from clipping off solid fractions.

Reese finally was able to settle into the saddle for the early part of the work, letting the colt do his own thing up the backstretch. He played with the bit, ears flicking all over as though he had finally gotten his mind off of going full throttle. Reese moved her hands up the colt's neck into the third furlong, chirping along the way. She smiled at the response she got. He lunged into the bit, muscling over the dirt with precision and strength. He was an excellent ride for her first time riding a true Witch Creek dirt horse. He moved as smoothly as Bella Luna, had more of a stubbornness then that one though.

Reese counted the furlong poles off in her head, along with the time. He had hit five furlongs in 1:00 flat and was only getting strong as he went along. Reese did not let off the gas through the turn. Saint blew into the the two path, switching leads on Reese's command and straightened up impressively into the homestretch. With barely a nudge, Reese had the colt storming up the homestretch lined out like a greyhound. She laid low over the colt's neck, feeling the energy coarse from him to her. He was a sublime animal for many reasons. His courage was unmatched. His speed untouchable. His determination and will to please stirred the deepest recesses of Reese's heart.

Ripley hummed with excitement as Saintly Touch hit the six furlongs in 1:11 flat. The powerful colt nabbed the seven furlongs in a scintillating 1:22 4/5 seconds. Faster than she wanted, but he'd done it well within himself. His gallop out for the mile was 1:39 under a stranglehold. She patted Malcolm's shoulder, "Now that's what a Derby horse looks like."