BARELY LEGAL, WISHING FOR A HEROINE, DREAMING OF GLORY
In These Troubled Times, We Ought To Hold On To Each Other
As Christopher Descartes had walked into the racing stable of Blue Cross that day, he had been greeted with a sight he had not seen in quite a while. “Well well well, if it isn’t Miss Sandler herself,” He had called to the familiar figure at the stalls, and had watched with quiet amusement as the dark haired young girl had spun on the spot, the brown of her eyes flashing as she had met them to Christopher’s. He had watched a smile grace her features then, and her left eyebrow raise as she had crossed her arms in deliberation. “Christopher,” She had said coolly, but the smile on her lips had spoken measures over her distant tone, and he had smiled at her as well as he had closed the distance between them, and had given her a quick hug before she had time to object. She had surprisingly hugged him back, but they both stepped away from it almost as soon as it began, Jaimie averting her eyes and Christopher’s smile morphing into one of chagrin. The awkwardness only dared to last a moment, until he poked her playfully in the side with his finger and she leapt back with a yelp, turning wounded eyes upon him. “You seem to have done well. You’ve even gained weight,” He had teased, and had only managed to remain safe for a second before she had slapped him hard across the shoulder, scowling, a heated “No I have not, Shut up!” Slipping past her lips as he simply laughed and attempted to dodge her blows.
When things had again calmed down, he had turned to look at the horse that Jaimie had been admiring. It had been a tall chestnut colt, a distinctive blaze down the center of his face, his eyes warm. “Who’s this handsome boy?” He had asked, his hand stretching out to stroke across the soft golden coat. The horse had almost immediately stuck his broad head forward, and had snuffled hopefully at Christopher’s hands, looking for treats. Jaimie had given him a firm look as she had reached forwards to rest her hand on the chestnut’s neck. “Dreaming Of Glory,” She had said, “And keep your eyes on your own mount, Descartes, cause we’re going to kick your butts today,” She had told him, confident in her stance, and Christopher had laughed genuinely. “We’ll see, small fry, we’ll see,” He had told her, and had set off to assure Barely Legal was being readied before Jaimie had time to register the insult and respond.
When the time finally came for the late evening workout, it was Stanley Newton that Christopher came across first, seated on the back of a long time favorite of his—Wishing For A Heroine. The filly had always stood out to him, especially in her time as a three year old, when he had watched her steal away the Shining Stakes, usurping Crowned Queen in one of the greatest speed duals he had ever witnessed. She had gotten older since then, but had in no way lost her class, her speed, or her competitive edge. She stood happily under Stanley, her ears forward and posture relaxed, and Stanley had been giving her long strokes with his fingers across her neck. They had looked calm, like two old friends.
Barely Legal was definitely not an old friend. Before today, Christopher had never even really met the mare. In her time before with Blue Cross it had been Newton that had taken her under his wing, and the pair had done reasonably well together. Now, with mounts currently at an all time low, horses were being given where and if they could be. When Christopher had been offered Barely Legal, he had accepted without hesitation. It hadn’t changed the fact that he didn’t know the horse. He was a fast learner however, and as he observed the bay mare before him, he assumed that Leila was too.
He had just hefted himself into the saddle, the mare settling good naturedly underneath him, when Jaimie had arrived onboard Dreaming Of Glory. The colt looked even more impressive out of his stall and in his silks, and Christopher was more than interested in seeing how he would run. He knew exactly how Heroine liked to move and run, and could easily plot out a decent plan in his mind on how to use her weaknesses to Leila’s strengths, but Glory was something else entirely. The colt trotted forwards regally, Jaimie straight and poised on his back, and she gave him a coy smile as she strolled by, headed towards the track, where Stanley was already warming up Heroine. “See you guys at the wire,” She had called out to him playfully, and he had rolled his eyes at her, but had kept quiet, opting instead to nudge the bay mare after the chestnut colt, and out onto the track.
The moment they stepped onto the track, Chris began to analyze the horses around them. Heroine was excited and giddy, her steps quick, her head high and tail flourished. Glory lost some of his regality in place for a childish wonder, and Jaimie had to hang on as he lurched forward into a small buck, grateful for the chance to run. Leila however simply continued on her way, giving little sign that she had noticed any difference, and meandered up to join the other two horses at an almost leisurely pace. To Christopher, who had spent most of his time with Blue Cross onboard their greatest dare devil’s, found the change bizarre. How could the mare possibly have one anything with her steady behavior? When Descartes gave the signal for them to let loose, he was enlightened.
He nudged her forwards and she dug in so hard and with such power, at first Christopher had thought she had tripped. She stayed up however, her stride big and steady and filled with consistent rhythm. He knew her to be a strong closer, so he allowed her to drift comfortably into position behind Heroine, who ran at her usual preceding position as Glory blazed along powerfully, leading the way. Jaimie had allowed him to kick off with quite a lot of speed, and the chestnut colt had cruised along about six lengths ahead of them, with Heroine comfortably chugging along at four lengths, with a two length gap between Leila and the aforementioned filly. They moved along with consistency for a while, with Heroine occasionally moving to push Glory harder, but the colt seemed to answer her ever challenge, and Stanley would move her back off the pace.
When they hit the final few furlongs, he felt the change in Leila before he fully registered what it meant. As the two horses in front of them kicked up into a higher gear, he knew just what she was trying to do. The only race he had ever watched her in, she had closed strongly for a win. Now, he attempted to replicate the same environment. He immediately let her go, fully aware of the amount of horse he had under him, and let her stretch out her legs.
She closed over four lengths in a blink of an eye, pushing hard towards the other two, who had been drawn into a speed dual as Heroine had attempted to fly by him. As time went on, she closed the final two, until it was all three of them streaking towards the wire, a mesh of manes and tails and thundering hooves. At the last instant however, he watched her throw her nose forward, and they crossed the imaginary victory line together.
They cooled the horses down together, all three creatures breathing hard in the wake of the evening, and he smiled at the other two jockeys, happier then he could have thought possible. Above him, a small scatter of stars shined brightly through the clouds, and a warm breeze brushed through Leila’s mane and brought with it sweet smells of summer.
As he headed back towards his father, the head trainer, and Tommy, his new assistant, he glanced to the side at the horses and people beside him, and then down at the horse beneath him, and knew that things were about to change for the better.
