***No time to read it all? Use the find option to jump to any specific pony you have in mind. ***

Isabelle was pacing the length of paddock fence, wearing a small trench in the grass as she waited. It was spring evaluation day for the entirety of REI’s performance stock, all stable hands, grooms, managers, and jockeys were recruited to bring up each of the Thoroughbreds for Isabelle’s inspection. With her favored gel pen attached to her clipboard behind her back, Isabelle continued her impatient walk, snapping 180’s at the end of each track. Decisions would be made today, and Isabelle was a firm believer that horses understood, even if they didn’t understand, they still understood, just because they did (which made logical sense to her even if nobody else agreed).

As the first group was led up, Colbie Carpenter came to stand by Isabelle, ready to make secondary documentation of Isabelle’s decisions (and secretly overturn them later if necessary). She was the Racing Stables Manager, working closely with each of the age group trainers to be sure everyone had what they needed. The main funnel for all information to pass through so Isabelle got a single report instead of twelve, Colbie braced herself, doing her very best to contain her laughter. “Nice trench there, Iz,” she whispered.

Noticing her worn path for the first time, Isabelle tried to delicately and discreetly smush over grass to cover it as the initial horses arrived. First up, as ordered, were the oldest racers and leasing animals. Simba was jerking and fidgeting, needing a stud chain today. Requiring his jockey Evander on one side and a groom on the other, they only managed a zigzag pattern to walk and circle before Isabelle with the others.

“Please . . . do him . . . first . . .” Evander grumbled out, as Simba drug him and the groom around more then they led him.

“Of course. Simba, dear,” Isabelle cooed. “Sweetie pie, you’re doing well getting going this year, just be sure to keep watch on your competition, we could use a few more wins by the end of summer here.” Simba snorted and swished his tail in Fantasy Island’s face, who proceeded to bite him in the butt for it. He stomped a whirled around, but Devora Connick had already muscled the mare out of range. “This is your last year racing, remember!” Isabelle called as Evander and the groom hustled the wild stallion away. “This is your year to shine at HOTY, it’s your last chance!”

“Shall I mark down continue HOTY only for the year, Iz?” Colbie asked.

“Yes, please. We’ll re-evaluate this autumn.” Fantasy Island grunted and made a tight circle, trying to bite her female handler. Devora, meanwhile, was regretting being assigned this lady. “Oooh, such a good girl getting your grade one win Tacy!” Isabelle gushed, but knew better then the pet to gray witch. In response Tacy kicked out, breaking one of the fence rails near Isabelle’s head. Colbie silently scootched down the fence a bit away Isabelle, while Isabelle pretended she didn’t almost get her head knocked off. “That was your one and only undercard for the year, so from now on it’s major stakes racing only for you. So lets see what you have, honey bun!”

“Same comments as for Simba,” Isabelle told Colbie. Turning to the better behaved of the oldest races, Seize The Throne had his head up, but wasn’t acting like a brat. “You’re doing very well sweetie, keep up the great work,” Isabelle praised. “We’ll keep you going in undercards, and give you some of those GHF Cups, would you like that?” King chewed, but otherwise ignored Isabelle. As he was led away, Evander trotted up with his other difficult stallion, leasing-in Dragonheart. Sighing, Isabelle crossed her arms and shook her head at the boy. “Draco, Draco, Draco, what am I to do with you. Four seconds in a row, no win since last . . .” Isabelle checked her clipboard. “September?! ….. ouch,” Isabelle winced. “What to do . . .” Tapping her cheek with her pen in thought, Draco stomped up and bite a chunk of paper off the corner of her clipboard.

Evander and Colbie raced to muscle around with the stallion to get it out of his mouth, while Isabelle’s face scrunched into what could only be considered a pout. “He bit off the chunk with my doodles,” she muttered sadly. “Best horse I ever drew, too. Was gonna keep that . . . ”

“Um, Isabelle?” Colbie strained out, being pushed around by Draco’s shoulder.

“Oh, right, Draco mister, you better step it up here. I’ll keep you going for a few more weeks as coming in seconds feels to me like you still have something to give, but if you don’t start putting in some wins or if you drop into the black hon I think you might be retired, here. Our goal is grade two for this, your final season. I really hope you can pull it together, Sammy’s counting on us!”

Evander trotted off with Draco while Forget Me Not and Wannabe Royal actually stood patiently, waiting for their turn. Isabelle walked over and dug into her pocket for cookies, feeding the pair. “Mia’s doing very well, Colbie put a note in my record to give her a bit more of a HOTY challenge to see if she can compete there. KC Racing has slated her for the sale ring the end of June, so we want to get her looking as shaped up as possible. Same for our other King here, he needs to break his maiden and I’d like to see him with several more in the money finishes before he goes to his new home.”

“Are you interested in trying for Mia at the auction?” Colbie asked, and Devora held her breath. “Possibly, she’s a Footloose baby, but I’m not sure we can squeeze in another senior at her grade. My hope is to get her sire, but we’ll see how the auction pans out. On another thought though, we’ll definitely pick her up if there isn’t much interest, I really like her, I think she has potential.” Isabelle seemed not to notice Devora pinching Colbie on the arm.

After a few minutes the entire senior string was led up together, none of these guys were as screw balled and wild as the older ones were. Eternally Smoldering led the pack, nearly cantering with his bundled up energy as his groom ran to desperately try and keep up. “Ooo, Smolder. Make a note for me to watch his fields carefully, I’m very nervous he might get shut down by the five and six year stars who are sticking around this year and dominating fields.” Isabelle frowned. “I might even consider retiring him early if necessary, I don’t want him running behind those guys and going into the ground. I feel he deserves a third year running, but his results are starting to slow. I need to watch his races carefully.”

“Got it,” Colbie nodded to the groom. The dozen horses were all going around a large circle in front of Isabelle, and when they were dismissed they walked back to the stable, the circle shrinking. Maleficent caught Isabelle’s eye next. “I’m so pleased with her, she’s really flourished since coming from Montgomery Acres. She might just have a HOTY year ability next season, so lets try her in some graded Cups and small G2+ once she hits G2, to give her some exposure.” Colbie jotted and nodded as Isabelle scrawled on her clipboard.

“Oh there’s Phoenix, he’s stepping it up this year at last! He went nearly a full year without a win. Let’s keep him on turf as Cavallo suggested, with only a dirt race if that’s the only option. Be nice if he could squeeze to G1 by the end of the season, but it looks like he’ll need another year.” Phoenix sidestepped and snatched Isabelle’s gel pen, bobbing his head and trotting off in mirth, dragging the stable hand behind.

Shrugging, Isabelle pulled a new one from her pocket, from which some cookies also fell. Pied Piper let out a huge neigh and hurried over, scooping up the treats and some grass for good measure. Isabelle patted the gray on the shoulder. “Well since you’re here, it would be ideal for you to get to grade one this season so you can try for a big champ year next season. Colbie put a note in to keep Pips in some G2+ HOTY races to keep him current but undercards to boost his grade and confidence.”

“Gotcha.”

“Oh, and that’s the same for Liberated Treasure, they’re practically twins in their records.” Mentioning the nasty mare, David Rittenhouse eased the huge black closer to stand by Isabelle. “Got her a bit calmer these days,” he drawled out softly, stroking the ticked off mare. She seemed to be hanging on to her temper by the slightest margin. Isabelle chose to look and not touch. “She’s had some rough HOTY classes but I hope she evens out a bit better this summer. Needs to push for G1.” David agreed, and ambled off with the Thoroughbred.

Cutie nickered, ears pricked, and Isabelle motioned for the groom to let her lead go over her back. The bundle of love nearly scampered over, and Isabelle rubbed and scratched her cheeks. “Well hi there cutie pie,” she gave her a big kiss on the nose. “Did you know you’re just one win away from grade two?” Cutie nickered and wuffed in Isabelle’s face. Isabelle wasn’t phased by the flecks of nose wetness sent to her face. “Would you like to try some GHF Cups maybe this year? See if you like HOTY racing, you could try one more year in it. Whatcha think?” Cutie nuzzled and rubbed her face into Isabelle’s chest. “Such a good girl,” she cooed, feeding her some sugar from yet another pocket.

“Undercards with some graded HOTY then?” Colbie poked Isabelle in the back with her pencil.

“Yep, sounds good,” Isabelle replied before narrowing her eyes at the groom who took her little Cutie away from her and back to the stable. “Eh I’ll get to Beauty later . . . oh, Call Of Duty. He’s reminding me of Draco, soooo many seconds. Keep him in undercards, we need more consistent wins I think before attempting HOTY. I’m hoping he’ll pop out more soon. Seems to me we have so many seniors in grade three right now.”

“That’s because we do,” Devora snipped a bit. “Seven to be precise. Over half the crop.”

“I see . . .” Isabelle wiggled her nose. “You know they’re doing the best they can,” she mumbled. “Pretty ponies.”

“Uh huh,” was the scuffed retort. “If Trish, Pips, and Wild hadn’t all graded to 2 this year we’d still have ten of them.”

“Well they did grade up, and more will too,” Isabelle stuck her nose up.

“Just don’t buy a bunch of grade one and two senior runners at the sale, please. These guys will all grade up and overflow the upper ranks next year.”

“I would restrain myself.”

“We’ve heard THAT before,” Colbie uttered, giggling.

Isabelle pursed her lips. “I do not have a hoarding ponies problem.”

“Glad you have that disorder named already,” Colbie covered her mouth, shoulders shaking.

“No one said you did but you,” Devora pointed out, leading up Blue Heroine. “How about this lady?”

Clearing her throat, Isabelle scratched Blue’s favorite spot. The mare was a bit fidgety, her muscles trembled a bit and she started at a gush of wind. Devora held her firmly. “I think she’s coming back into HOTY form. Keep her going there, she’ll be there all year. I think this is her last year racing, either she finds her feet or she doesn’t.” Devora moved off with her as Colbie jotted things down.

“Course I might be persuaded to do another year with her, we’ll see what some of the other stable owners think.” Colbie raised a brow, but returned her pencil to her paper. “Callie! Oh my little Underdog baby, how’s my honey-bun?” The bay mare was brought over by a groom and Isabelle fed her some peppermints after patting a few pockets. Once she gets that G2 win lets try her in a few small HOTY fields to see if she can get some ground there. That’ll decide how we proceed with her next season.” Colbie nodded absently.

“Oh Dancer! There’s my consistent baby,” Isabelle gently stroked the gray’s neck carefully, not to mess up her polished coat. With braided mane and tail, the elegant mare stood tall and precisely. “She hasn’t gotten a win since last September, but she’s kept in the money! I’m so proud of her after that difficult juvenile year she had. We’ll keep her going in undercards and I think she’ll do well with graded HOTY cups. Hmm, I doubt she’ll squeeze in to grade one this year, so we’ll just keep her steady as she goes.”

Prancing up and giving Isabelle a shove in the back, Stylishly Wild nickered and bobbed his head high in the air. “Well hello there Mr. I’m G2 now,” Isabelle darted to a fro a few times, Wild copying her in a quick game of tag. “Same old, same old for our other seniors?” Colbie called out, ending the fun. “Yep, undercards with some HOTY,” Isabelle gave the stallion one last hug and then groaned, facing up to the last senior horse. Standing there in all her difficult glory, Italian Beauty.

“Well I am happy you won your last race, little girl,” Isabelle said. Crossing her arms over her chest, furrowing her brows. Londyn had a red mark on her arm, suspiciously marked like teeth. The jockey intern didn’t complain, holding her snobby mount with a sharp eye. “You know, she reminds me of Crooked Intentions.”

“I was JUST going to say that,” Colbie commented.

Isabelle nodded. “Yep. Let’s just keep her to undercards, note down for me to cautiously view her fields. Her record isn’t awful by any means, but it’s certainly not been easy.” Beauty pawed at the grass, opening her mouth wide for a moment. “Glad she’s becoming more well rounded, we’ll just keep careful watch.” With that, the last senior was led away.

With the classics arriving next, Isabelle brightened and rushed forward to give Chloe Donahue a big hug. The pregnant jockey was due in a few months, and had begun to waddle. She was leading the gentlest three year old, Miss Abilene. Chloe scrunched up her face. “I’m afraid she’s not going to be a good idea for a sprinter tiara, Iz.”

Isabelle sighed. “I know it. But,” she eased her hands out to the sides. “It’s okay. She’s shown us she isn’t ready for that level. So we’ll back her up to undercards. Give her a chance to breathe and find her hooves again. She’s really done well overall, just one win away from grade three. I think she might have the guts to take on HOTY again once she’s graded up, so we need to focus on that now. How’s baby?”

“Baby’s great, found on the gender,” Chloe giggled and leaned in to whisper to Isabelle. “Oh my god, yay!” Isabelle squealed, and Colbie rushed over. “Hey I missed it, tell me!”

“Nope, Evander and I decided just us and Isabelle will know before it’s born.” Isabelle beamed and Colbie scowled. A few of the more impatient classics snorted and pawed, so Chloe moved off with Abby. Bryce immediately took the opportunity to frame up Arrows Away, the stubborn colt chewing and prancing his displeasure at doing something that wasn’t his idea.

“I’m so glad Ripley let us have this guy,” Isabelle walked up and ran her hand down the gray’s forelegs. I love his color and style of build, he’s the first of his lines at REI.”

“I agree. I think he’s one who will need some time to mature,” Bryce held the colt solidly. “I advise keeping him to ten furlongs and up. He really relishes the long burns, even at the front. He’s such a fighter, although he can do eight and nine I feel in his mentality he likes to see his competition suffer, and burn them out.”

Isabelle gave her lead jockey a wry smile. “A sadist, huh? Well, I can’t argue with you there, his wins are all at upper lengths. He doesn’t like to stop running much. Note that, Colbie,” Isabelle said over her shoulder. “Any issues or problems with him settling in with us?” “None that I’ve seen,” Bryce replied. Isabelle watched Arrows’ hip and hindquarters as he walked away, getting familiar with his gait.

Eyeing up Chase, Isabelle curled a finger for the stable hand to bring him forward. “Chase is due for a win, I feel he’s sitting on it.” She ran her hands down his side, checking his rib fatness. He went in a circle, not wanting to stop moving. “Make sure he’s checked at least once a week for weight, he’s so freaking active I’m afraid he’ll drop under weight before we can really catch it.” The stable hand nodded, and Isabelle turned to Colbie, letting the spirited chestnut scamper off. “He keeps to the cusp of HOTY but he needs a couple more wins to make me happy. Keep him to the undercards, and keep him sound, he’s another one of those pedigrees we only have him with.”

Ghost separated himself from the group of his own accord, slinking off down the fence line. Evander turned him, bringing him back around. Isabelle bit her lip, eyeing him up. “He’s improving this year, status quo for him. Let’s see how he handles things for the summer.”

“Oh, bring Twist here,” Isabelle glanced to her note sheets. Londyn strode confidently forward, her mount shined up like a new penny. “I’m so glad we kept this girl on, I’d love to put her in a few more prep races, especially that Plum Pretty one at BSD. We’ll see how she does, I’m not slating her for the sprinter tiara now, she can’t do five furlongs anyway, but she might be a nice contender for maybe the last leg of it. I think she might really bump up as a four year old depending on how many wins she gets this year, lets keep our options open for her.”

Gallant Pup braced hard against Abigail, who frowned while walking him up. “Let’s get this over with,” she said a big crossly. Isabelle tapped her foot at Gallant Knight’s younger half-brother. “Now listen here mister, the July sales are approaching.” Pup shook his head and jerked his lead shank. “Took you almost a full year to get your second win? Tsk tsk. Your results are not the greatest here. Your sister Callie is doing very well, she’s setting you a good example for how an undercarder should perform. Take some notes.” Pup whickered and dug up some grass with his hind hoof. “Now Abigail rode your brother, and look how excellently his foals are doing! They have more wins then you and you’re older then they are. Let’s see some more blue on your record here before that sale comes around.” Isabelle arched a brow, and Pup sauntered off with his jockey.

Twilight Reign trotted enthusiastically out of line, unable to contain herself as she sniffed Isabelle all over for treats. Isabelle giggled and lavishly loved on her baby Dynasty’s first foal for REI. “My precious little angel.” Julie Anderson-O’Hara let out a cough on purpose, covering it with the fist not holding the filly’s lead rope. “Undercards,” she forced out on the noise. Peeking around the painted filly’s face, Isabelle frowned at her. “I don’t need badly made subtle hints,” she told her classic racing trainer. Colbie scratched down undercards for Lili, and Isabelle eyeballed the pair back and forth as the filly cleaned her pockets out of peppermints. “You know you could wait until me, the owner, made the decision, even if it’s the same as yours.”

“Hey I have some retired mares that need exercise, can we stop feeding and start evaluating?” Karen Young spoke up from the back of the circle. Isabelle reluctantly let Lili go, holding onto her tail and letting the hair slide through her hands as she walked off. Karen led Authentic Aura up, and Isabelle went starry-eyed. “Oooh my triple tiara baby,” she cooed.

“She’s running the Kentucky Oaks next week,” Colbie reminded.

“Yes you are pretty girl. You just run your hardest and do your very best, you have one more race and then it’s off to the triple tiara for you. I know you’ll work super hard, don’t get discouraged, and know I’ll be waving a flag and shaking pom poms for you up the stands.” Aura held her head high, ears pricked.

“What about after the tiara?”

“We’ll give her a few weeks off, then right back to HOTY regardless of how she places. She’s never run anything but, and she’ll stay there. I feel strongly about keeping her at that level, I know she’s got the ability for it.”

“Same for this girl?” David led Wings Of Angels up. The black filly bumped noses with the bay. “Oh yes, she’s heading for the turf triple tiara. My two tiara girls, I’m so proud,” Isabelle claspsed her hands together. “Now with Angels though, if she doesn’t win a leg of the TTT I want to put her into the CTT. She does favor turf but she has won HOTY on dirt. We’ll keep her in HOTY only as well, with a smattering of some dirt now and then to keep her fresh there.”

Isabelle bid her two tiara fillies farewell, and beckoned for French Quarter and Englishman. “Hmm. These two will be a bit challenging, so we’ll need to eye up week by week how they go. Rennie has a better juvenile season then Endo, but Endo is going exceptionally well this year while Rennie is struggling. I’m definitely putting Endo into the triple crown, he absolutely deserves it. Here on out I think he should be HOTY. If he doesn’t win any legs of that, like Angels I want to put him into the CTC. Now if does win a leg or more (omg! who knows), Rennie is our potential CTC backup. Lets give him another undercard or two, and feel out another HOTY. See if he can gauge a better hold on his results with some more time. He could be a last leg usurper contender, or maybe he won’t be ready, we’ll see.”

The two colts eyed each other, but remained fairly aloof as they were ushered off. Evander edged up with a more shy Waldemar. Isabelle took a look at the colt, noticing his usually over confident nature was on it’s off day. “I’m so glad we’re keeping this big guy too, he didn’t seem to get going so well at Montgomery Acres, but he’s shaping up very nicely now.”

“Half of his results have been at third,” Colbie commented.

“I think he’s found himself now,” Evander stated. “He’s rating much better in my hands, not so much the unruly speed demon as he was before. I think he’s handling his emotions better . . . most days.”

“I agree, we might try him at a small prep again for some fun, but let’s keep him going solid in undercards. Get his first and seconds up before the year is out.” Chocolatier had come out of the ranks and started scratching his head by rubbing it all along Isabelle’s side. “Well hello to you too,” she wiggled, trying to not get pushed over.

“Sorry, he got away from me,” the groom apologized, collecting his charge.

“Aww Coco, what happened this year?” Isabelle gave a sad face, pulling the black’s nose up to her. “Just too tough for you this season? Well, we have you in the Swale Stakes next week, so perk up, and lets see how you do. After that we’ll keep trying HOTY again or stay in undercards for a bit more. I hope you got your confidence back, mister.”

“With him in mind, where’s Luxie?” Isabelle spotted her extreme sprinter turf colt. “He’s really been doing well in undercards this year. I’m not sure if he could get into HOTY at this point. I think if there’s room we’ll try one or two for him, give him a bit of a challenge, he just might enjoy it. Probably the same for Classy Lady there too, she’s not up to that star level but she’s got a great foundation. I’d like to see if she grades up fast enough she might do a HOTY year.” With agreements all around, the final classics were lined up together.

Isabelle paced in front of them, thinking for a few minutes. Stopping in front of Virtuoso, she stuck her fist under her chin. “I’m thinking . . . let’s do a couple of months of undercards with him. Let him flesh out some in the money finishes. He did win the Horseshoe Futurity last year but his wins otherwise are all undercards, so I think he’s most comfortable there. And for Creekside, I want to be super careful with her. She’s missed a few races this season so let’s focus on making sure she has appropriate competition. Let’s definitely get her in prep races, she might be able to give the dirt sprinter tiara a try if she can secure a few HOTY prep wins.”

With that decided, Isabelle radioed in for the juveniles to be presented. She also called for treat reinforcements, and a groundskeeper brought up a small wagon full of apples and carrots to sit beside the fence. He also began to repair the broken fence that Tacy had kicked out. “I want to do the colts first, please,” Isabelle spoke on her walkie-talkie. “And please have Edward O’Hara come out.” The extremely experienced older man was Julie’s father in-law, and Isabelle’s well respected juvenile racing trainer. If there was anything she needed help with this season, it was the erratic juvenile herds overwhelming the tracks.

Biting her lip, Edward walked out with the groom who was holding the first juvenile colt, face set grimly and soft hat gripped in his hands. He didn’t look pleased, however he rarely did, so there was no real way for Isabelle to interpret his expression. She got antsy, shifting from foot to foot as Colbie pointedly flipped to the fresh new juvenile racing plan forms, snapping the clasp of her clipboard loudly. Isabelle quickly rushed to change her own clipboard and almost held up the evaluation parade as Edward took a spot near her, leaning back on the fence line. Flopping his hat skewed on his head, he frowned, eyes tracked on the first colt’s legs.

Amun-Ra was about the biggest juvenile of the crop, towering over everything. Isabelle thought it was a bit surprising he was a sprinter, given his size of stride and stamina. As he passed by, she gave him an apple and a carrot, as she would for each juvenile who passed by. “Pharaoh broke his maiden in February, just one race out of the money this year so far. Should he try HOTY do you think?”

“Nope, not that colt,” Edward shook his head. “Lines too unproven, not enough wins under him based on what’s out there. Keep him going in what he’s doing. Feels like a bread-and-butter undercarder to me right now.” Isabelle noted things down, also putting a notation that if he succeeded more at eight and nine furlongs to consider giving him an extension to ten.

Delightful Pyne floated by, and Edward gave a slight nod. “Put him in some HOTY.” Isabelle agreed, and jotted it down. She was so happy with the unlined colt, with three wins for his name so far, he was definitely one of the best overall for her crop this season.

Flitcraft had a helper on his hip to give him a push along the route as he grudgingly was pulled along. “I’m thinking undercards for him, he only just broke his maiden. Edward gave a sniff, and remained silent, so Isabelle peered closer at her paper. “Although his only HOTY was his first race out, so might try him again in a smaller field later in the year.” Getting no response, she nodded for Flit to be taken on.

Getting anxious, Isabelle stood up straighter as her favored colt of the crop yanked and snorted, trying to nip his handler. Frosted Sunrise, out of Pandora’s dam. Edward didn’t need prompting for this boy. “Keep that colt under tight watch. Don’t let him run in heavy fields, keep him at HOTY but you need to get his in the money places fleshed out so his black marks won’t hound him.” Carefully scrutinizing her chart, Isabelle flagged Frost for special care.

Shifting her weight from foot to foot, her other highest colt hopeful, Superstition was led up. The colt was her only chance at fully racing an Everyday Hero horse, and son to Moondance. “I was advised to get his maiden broke before attempting more HOTY. Similar to Frost then, watch where he’s at?” Edward gave a slow nod, and Isabelle wrote down she needed to get the boy balanced better in the money.

Calmly, Valiant strode up to take center stage, his brilliant white coat shining in the sunlight. Isabelle turned to peek at Edward. The man stayed silent for a while, then looked at Isabelle. Licking her lips, Isabelle marked down to keep trying some HOTY to see if he could fire up there.

The last colt was Dynasty’s first REI colt, clearly an Isabelle favorite. As she was putting pen to paper, Edward spoke up. “Might keep that one in undercards. His sister is showing promise but underdeveloped still. Too hot headed yet, give him some stretching room. Not sure he’s settled yet where he wants to be, see if he goes more for the sprints or the miles, then you’ll know where to put him.”

With the colts gone, Isabelle called for the fillies, and stocked up her pockets. Just Rewards was keeping a close watch on the goings-on as she trotted beside her groom. “I might give her a try at few more challenging races, see if she takes to it?” Isabelle said, and getting no negative reply thought it wouldn’t hurt to try. She eyed Colbie, who didn’t look like she was going to comment for the world.

A medium chestnut filly circled around next, refusing the treats from Isabelle. Shrugging, Isabelle chewed on the apple herself, scooping her clipboard under her arm. “This one is still settling in,” Edward said stiffly, walking over to the new arrival. He ran his hands down her legs, getting kicked at but not reacting to it. “She’s startin’ a bit late, she’ll get eaten alive by the competition in large races. Get her to break her maiden, and find her momentum before you try anything else.”

Licking a tooth to pull out a stuck apple piece, Isabelle bobbed her head and scribbled the advice down. Mircalla swept up, and Isabelle immediately took charge. “I want her in HOTY only.”

Turning and tipping his hat, the Irishman eyed her. “What you want and what you get are two different things. However, I happen to agree with you on that. I think this filly has a chance. Nice to get to work with the Requiem line for the first time, too.”

Angie squealed and charged forward, bumping into Mira, who stamped and kicked out. Grooms rushed to separate the fillies before a fight ensued, and Isabelle tried to bribe Revenge Of The Angels with an apple. “That little filly is going to cause trouble,” Edward predicted. “Just see how she goes, she’s got spitfire in her, I’m glad you put dual on her. Do her good to get as much exercise as possible.” Isabelle was also pleased that Angie had won on both surface, and was looking to see if she might follow in Liberated Treasure’s footsteps.

A gap was left so Angie could be wrestled back to the stables as Sierra approached. Isabelle sighed. “I think I might alternate undercard and HOTY to see if she can find herself.” “Yeah, if she goes out of the money in HOTY I wouldn’t push it. I know you’re excited for your first Royale and Nut foal, but gotta go with what the horse can do not with what you want it to do.”

Wise words, ones Isabelle tried to commit to heart. The tiniest racehorse of all nimbly pranced up, and Isabelle gave her velvet nose kisses and treats. “That little filly is best left in undercards, with other fillies. Might give her a few more breaks then the others too, give her plenty of time to keep her energy going.”

Isabelle nearly jumped joyfully as the last juvenile took her place. “The only one of the crop who hasn’t placed out of the money. I want to try her for my sprinter HOTY female,” Isabelle said. Edward checked the bay’s withers and back, slowly shushing his voice a few times. “I think you have a nice one here, just don’t get careless with her.” Eagerly Isabelle scratched down her last few notes, and took a breath. Windfallen ate her treats, then sauntered off, in great form for her next upcoming race. Edward shuffled off while Colbie paged through her notes, also wandering away. “Well, that was fun. Now I just need to check over the Rosethorn Racing juveniles . . . . another day,” Isabelle said, blowing out a breath at all the evaluations to go over again in her head and study the next several days.