Post by Socks on Aug 12, 2011 13:32:22 GMT -5
Summer Season's King and Nina Ristuccia
"I think you may have gotten a horse I actually like for once," Nina sat aboard the big bay colt, who was walking with his neck arched and Wingo at his bridle. The assistant trainer turned his head and grinned at her. Presley had been mostly his purchase, a newcomer to Shamrock along with a pretty chestnut filly named Call My Bluff. The colt was young, but well-developed, with a powerful neck and stride. He half-walked half-trotted, swinging his hindquarters out and away from Wingo and bobbing his head, ready to get going.
"I thought you might. He's just as headstrong as you are," Wingo teased. Nina rarely exercised horses for them, but they wanted to get Presley running as soon as possible and he needed a rider like Nina to keep him under control. "I doubt you'll need the whip much with him, especially today. We're not going to all-out run him, just looking to do some upkeep work."
"Fine," Nina shifted her weight in the saddle as they approached the track. A snort rattled through Presley's nostrils, his head going up and looking at the track easily. Wingo looked uncertain - he had a feeling that the colt was going to take off as soon as he set foot on the track. He certainly seemed to know what his job was, but he was very green and very, very eager. He hoped that Nina would be able to maintain some semblance of control. He didn't want the young horse running too hard and ruining his legs before he even made it to the track.
"He needs gate work, but we're not going to bother about that today. We don't want him breaking too sharply yet," he said, leading the horse onto the track. Presley danced through the side gate, pawing at the ground eagerly but steadied by Wingo's hand on his bridle. "Don't let him run too hard. Trot him out a little bit just to get him loosened up and listening to you and then take it nice and easy to the quarter pole. Make him work, but don't let him fly away. I don't want him sweating too badly."
"Ok, ok! I got it, jeez," Nina snapped at him, impatiently. She took the reins in hand and Presley bobbed his head, jerking it out of Wingo's grasp. To the trainer's immediate horror the colt immediately tried to lunge forward, driving with his back legs. He was brought back to earth by the sudden shock of Nina pulling on the reins, planting her butt firmly in the saddle. The result was odd, the colt's forward motion halted and the rider jerked slightly, but they managed to come out of it at a very forward trot.
"Not so rough with him! He's just a two year old!" Wingo called desperately, but he wasn't sure if Nina payed him any mind because she just kept going. Presley jerked his head forward in an attempt to grab the reins from Nina and take off again, at a moderately extended trot and throwing his legs up unnecessarily high. He was being a jerk in general, not moving straight but diagonally, his body swung to the right. He kept jerking his head for a little while before he apparently decided that it wasn't going to work.
His plan B was pretty much the exact opposite, and Nina noticed and gave him a little disapproving nudge as he drew his head even further inwards, getting behind the bit so that she had little control over his motion. In this position he couldn't fly off, but there was nothing to stop him from cantering, at least in the front. He jerked along at a half-canter with Nina rolling her eyes in frustration. Colts. Luckily, she was wise to this and proceeded to turn him in a circle a couple of times before he gave up the awkward gait in favor of that same eager head-and-ears-up trot.
"Much better, greenie," Nina said, stroking his neck in little circles with one hand. They kept trotting until he'd settled down into a much more straight path - still not exactly compliant but at least going along decently, before she sat forward slightly and attempted to get him going, but not too fast...
Of course, this didn't work and he flew forward again, leaping into motion and charging a few wild strides as Nina lowered her seat and checked him with the right rein. He was going fast, but purposelessly, with no particular plan and at a pace and stride that he obviously could not keep up for very long. It was that kind of eager running that would get him into bad trouble on the race course, especially if he was going to go wire to wire. At a clip like that him might get away from the field early, but he would tire out soon and fall back by the end. This might have worked in sprints - but he was not built a sprinter and it definitely wouldn't work in his kind of races.
"Eeeeasy now," Nina half-growled, as the colt again attempted to ignore the reins and weight and just fly around like an airplane, "get your butt back here and stop throwing your legs all around, stupid." Wingo watched from the sidelines, slightly aghast, as she continued to attempt to get the horse into some semblance of normalcy and control. He went a few more mad strides, slowly but surely coming back to her, starting to feel and heed the checks on that right rein and not be so distracted by the feeling of flying as to ignore his stride.
By the quarter pole he was almost conforming with what she wanted, still a little loose and wild but shaping up more and more. She sat back in the saddle and checked him continually down into a reluctant canted, and then, finally, a trot. A few more strides and they might have had it, but she was following Wingo's instructions and that early frightening wild run had to have winded the colt slightly. He settled down into a walk, much more willing to listen now that the edge had been taken off his mad energy. However, his head was still in the air and his movement still jerky and youthful as they returned to where Wingo was standing.
Just as they came up to the fence, a minor miracle. Presley's right ear swiveled back as Nina squeezed that rein, keeping him down. It flicked forward again immediately, but just for that half a second he had been hers. Wingo barely saw it, but he understood. This might have been a good workout after all, and maybe he had finally found someone that Presley would respect.