Shades of Blue

[Sam]

Horses The True Nut and Impassioned Wind
Jockey Sam Lettington on The True Nut and Max Lettington on Impassioned Wind
Purpose Workout for Turquoise Sprint

The buckskin snorted at me. She bounced, trotting sideways. Excited as ever to be back on the track. Even after two races after her long unintended break (No races for her to race in) she was acting as fresh as if she was still on the break.

I'm not going to get a walk out of you today, I said, looking down at the fillies head. Am I? I let the question hang in the air, as if she may answer. Knowing this filly, she would be the most likely horse to start talking. In response, the filly only seemed to pick up speed, her bouncing nearly making me get out of the saddle.

With a snort and a small throw of the head, I finally let her trot her normal pace. She seemed to grab onto the bit and pull with it as she pranced forth. Her knees came up, nearly to her chest. I always wondered if her knees would ever slam into her chest and bruise it. Course it wouldn't matter tot Nut. She never seemed to feel pain. Heck, she was practically numb in a race. Which is one reason I never had a crop with me while I was on her. She didn't feel it along her rump or her shoulder and she didn't see it when I waved it around. It wasn't going to do any good to have it.

We trotted for a good while near the gate until finally the great stallion came. The stud stood at sixteen hands, not very big compared to some horses but he was huge in other ways. The dark bay stallion looked at the track and something seemed to spark in him. He looked towards me, on the buckskin who stood still to size up her competitor, with this look that seemed to say "We're up to this again?" Then he simply walked onto the track, my little brother Max was on his back, looking slightly scared to be on the stallion. I didn't blame him. Immie probably still had it in him to act like a two year old.

He ok for you? I asked. My brother just nodded mutely. Alright. Go ahead and follow me. He's typically pretty good but he might get a little excited once we start going. The old stallion was a six year old, past his racing prime but could still put up a good fight.

We set off at a trot again. Immie seemed to have no trouble getting the kinks worked out of his body again, nor keeping up with Nutty's strange pace.

After a while, we picked up a canter. I already had a plan in my head. I glanced back and slowed Nutty down a tad, though she fought and pull and threw a fit as I did, until we were even with Immie and my brother. Once we reach the 5 furlong maker, we start. Hold him or else he'll blow it the first three furlongs. Wait til the last furlong and a half, I instructed. Again, my brother nodded mutely. Such a quiet kid.

We cantered into the chute and down to the five furlong maker. I slowed gradually, Immie and Max keeping stride with us. Max was lucky, it seems that Immie was being nice for him. I kind of envied my brother right now. I always wanted to race Immie and Nut against each other. Now wouldn't be fair as Immie is out of shape and with a young jockey who never ridden him. Nut had the clear advantage in this little mock race.

I slowed to a walk and turned about to face the correct way and halted at the five furlong marker so that Nut's shoulders were even with the pole. Immie stood beside me. He started to fuss and get excited, his dipped his head and seemed to trot in place, making it difficult for Max to keep him in place. Nut wasn't doing any better. She pulled against the bit and trotted in place as well, going from side to side but never allowed to pass so that her shoulders were still and always even with the pole.

Go at one, I said, glancing sideways at my brother. Five, I started, not bothering to wait for for his reply, if there was to even be one. Four... Three... Two... The horses grew more anxious as we held and waited.

One! With very little encouragement we sent out horses gallop down the chute and towards the stretch. Nut settled for her usual pace. I gave a little push with my hands, asking for a slightly faster pace. She slowly went up in speed until I started to hold her again. Immie was at our flank. Max was obviously holding back the dark bay stallion. Soon the stallion was gaining slightly. His long legs started to remember the past days of racing and seem to start taking in stride again.

Down the chute we continued to gallop. Only three furlongs til the wire. The steady pace didn't take any toll on Nut, though Immie started to show some struggle with the fast pace. The older stallion had only been kept in shape enough for halter shows and for presentation. He wasn't in racing shape but he was holding out pretty good. Max pulled him up slightly, hoping to save a bit for the stretch.

The chute opened up to the stretch. Only a furlong and a half were left. I let loose Nut. She was slightly slow to respond as she could hear the stallion behind us sprinting to catch up. Surprised? I said with a chuckle before she gave a mighty heave and sprinted forwards, flying ahead of the older stallion in a few quick and large strides.

The stallion held his ground, able to keep up for a small while before his tiredness ran him down. Max stood up in the stirrups, asking no more from the stallion who glared after the buckskin filly as she continued to tear down the track.

With labored breathes and sweaty pelt, she pushed herself harder. She galloped to her limits. Her legs stretched as wide as she could muster and they retracted as swiftly as she could get them to. She pushed herself faster with all the strength her fine tuned muscles could give.

We flew past the wire in a show of furious intent. The filly was showing off in front of the worn out stallion who cantered down the stretch, probably swearing that if he was five years younger, he could have kicked her butt. Whether that was true not, it didn't matter at this moment.

I smiled and patted the buckskin's golden neck as she slowed from her gallop. She was more then ready for that sprint.

Word Count 1,150