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Post by Melissa on Mar 20, 2008 20:58:43 GMT -5
your destiny is in my hands
and this decision isn't a easy one
"I can't, I just can't." I said to Kyle nervously, on the verge of tears as I stared intently at the chestnut filly standing in the middle of her paddock her warm brown eyes staring back at me. "Mel, think sensibly. You going to that auction and bidding on Second Chance's breeding put us down a million or so bucks. Santana needs to run in the Breeders' Cup Juvenile Fillies." Kyle said his voice hard. I whirled on him, my eyes shining with tears but I refused to let them go. "Kyle! Santana is my filly.." He cut me off there with a sharp reply, "You need to think more about your relationship with Ana, right now. Think about what'd you be cheating her from. A chance to prove that she is the top filly, that's what you need to be considering. Whitebrook is a business and Santana is a racer. Let her do what she was bred to do." I fumed at his words, my eyes narrowing at the blond head trainer.
Shaking my head I veered around him taking off at a run, towards the barn and to GS Gallant Prince's stall. The majestic black gelding lifted his head from his feed bucket when he heard me pull back the stall door. "Prince, what should I do?" I whimpered into the neck of the successful ex-racer, not caring to close the stall door. With a throaty whicker Prince craned his head around my back, his breath hot on my neck as he gave me a sort of a horse hug. One tear slipped down my cheek and needing something to clear my head I grabbed Prince's lead rope and fashioned a makeshift bridle from the six year old's halter. Leading the gelding into the aisle I quickly brushed him off. Hopping lightly astride the black's back I clucked tapping my heels against his side. Always up for a gentle hack Prince pricked his ears as he moved out of the barn. Nudging him in the direction of the track and feeling bolts of energy charge through the Classic winner I rubbed one hand along his mane feeling lost over what to do for this year's BC entries.
All too soon Prince's hooves touched the track and the muscled gelding tossed his head, releasing a excited whinny. Deep down I understood where Kyle had come from, I was putting my fears of Santana losing to Atalanta and Intuition before Santana's well being. Gritting my teeth I kicked hard against Prince's sides, wanting to leave my troubles far behind. With a snort of surprise Prince burst forward into a gallop, but he was unsettled by my rougher than usual signals, and his pace was slower than when the pace he set when he was fighting for his head. "Come on Prince, please run for me." I whispered, my legs tight against the gelding's barrel. The wind whistled around me as Prince surged forward, his legs a blur as he raced onward, his power mind blowing.
I was tired of this, tired of all the debates and such that had gone on when I'd first brought up the idea that Santana might not be going postward on Breeders' Cup day. Everyday it seemed like Kyle was calling the shots on the chestnut filly but he'd gone too far this time. Some would call me crazy and insane to not let a filly as good as Santana go to the Juvy Fillies field, others would call me too soft-hearted but others would just let me make the final decision. Kyle, well Kyle seemed usually adamant that Santana run no matter what. Less and less Santana was feeling like mine and I'd felt this way ever since she raced in her first actual race.
After a good gallop on Prince, I cooled out the wonderful stallion that had set Whitebrook on the map as a racing stable before wandering back to Santana's paddock. The filly still bore the scars from Korona's attacks, although due to my constant attention and care they were getting better. Santana had grown sour and moody, not at all like herself since the battle. I didn't know what to do for the filly's recent attitude but hopefully with patience the chestnut would be back to herself in no time.
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