FOR SALE - Tide Dancer

[jay]

A cloud of dust signaled the arrival of yet another vehicle at the auction barn. An old, dirty pickup truck pulled in with a two-horse trailer attached. When it pulled to a stop, the lone occupant of the trailer snorted in mild agitation. Hooves stamped against the rubber matting that cushioned the floor of the old trailer.

An older gentleman got out of the driver's side of the truck as a younger man got out of the passenger's side. The older man pulled a cane from the floor of the truck before slowly making his way to the back of the trailer. The younger man let the ramp down and opened the door before going inside. "Easy there, girl," he soothed absently as he untied the mare. "Come on now, let's go."

The older man watched with significant sadness in his eyes as the younger man led the young bay in a few circles before heading into the holding pen. When he released the bay filly, she tossed her head happily and let out a few bucks before settling down. She snorted and poked her head over the fence to blow warm, happy breaths at the two men.

The older man went to the fence slowly, reaching his hand out to the filly. He patted her face gently as the younger man posted a sign on the paddock gate.

FOR SALE
Tide Dance (Dancer)
2008 filly
Amazing potential, extremely friendly. Willing to learn. Would make lovely jumper. Decent bloodlines for good broodmare potential.
$6,500 OBO

[jagger]

Abyss had been counting the horses and was more than a little depressed that there were only a handful exactly and so far only one that showed any promise. With a slight shrug, she headed over to the corral where the bay sat poking her nose into not-so-cheerful faces, smiling slightly as she watched the elegant Thoroughbred. She was appreciative; she enjoyed good horse flesh - and she had been around quite a bit in her day.

Raised in an orphanage in Kentucky for as long as she could remember; Abyss didn't know anything about her history other than the one she had made for herself. She was tiny - 4'10 and a buck sopping wet, if that. She had found herself endeared to horses at a young age. By 14 years old she had begun working as a groom, worked her way up to lead horse rider by 16, exercise rider by 17, and by 19 was a full blown legal and license jockey. In the years to follow, she had apprenticed with a world class trainer at one of the biggest facilities in the world; found herself in Japan, and from there, hopped here to Indian Valley. She had seen tragedy, grace, beauty and horror. She was ready to strike out on her own. Train a horse, race a bit, breed some Thoroughbreds; train some more.

Of course the hitch in that plan was the initial "find a horse" bit. Eyeing the young filly quietly, she judged her to be about a yearling. Now would be the ideal time to begin saddle breaking; though Abyss was of the thought process that you didn't run a horse any younger than three and preferably not four. Race business was tough business; she had seen many 2 year olds with shattered ankles and far too many 3 year olds with fractured legs.

Sidling over to the corral, she stuck her hand through for the mare to sniff, remaining still and silent. No need to ask questions yet.

[jay]

Hearing footfalls of someone approaching the paddock, the filly turned her finely sculpted head to look, ears pricked forward. She twitched her tail a few times, watching the woman with curiosity. "Go on, go make a good impression," the old man whispered softly to the filly, giving her an encouraging pat on the shoulder.

With a snort, the filly turned and kicked up her heels slightly. She trotted over to the woman and happily shoved her muzzle against the outstretched hand. She snuffled politely, wondering if the woman had any treats hidden somewhere. After ascertaining that there was no food to be had, Dancer reached up and stuck her head over the paddock fence, giving the woman an inquisitive look as she nickered softly.

The younger man, after watching the exchange between woman and horse, strode over confidently. "She's a sweetheart, isn't she?" he said with a smile. He reached over the fence and scratched the filly's neck as she whickered a welcome to him. "This little girl will bend over backwards to do as she's told. Very willing soul."

[jagger]

Chuckling lightly, the low melodic sound trickled over her tongue and rolled between full, unpainted lips, her high cheekbones seeming to ripple slightly as she grinned at the yearling. Scratching her face with one hand, Abyss directed her left to extend to the young man addressing her, offering a greeting. "She does seem to be rather sweet.. I'm looking for a horse to train. I ride Thoroughbreds... racing Thoroughbreds." She paused a moment, waiting for their reaction - their inevitable refusal to sell the filly for such purposes. Most racehorses were bought at auction - then again, most racers were never taught anything beyond "run in a straight line"; whereas Abyss took the time to school her youngsters as any other horse would be. Racing was a hobby, no longer a diehard profession.

"I train my horses all-around before they even see a track. I only attend a few claiming races a year to exchange stock; and I never run a horse more than once a week. It's taken a backseat for me, but it's all I know; all I know I can do efficiently." This was, of course, a far cry different than your usual breeder/trainer/jockey - many raced their horses 3 to 4 times daily and 3 to 4 times a week - not something Abyss cared for; she didn't like her animals being one of the statistics. "I'd really love a new project."

She sighed, leaning against the panels to rub the filly's head with both hands. She offered no further information about herself, simply let the filly get to know her intentions. As long as a horse could move forward and backward and occasionally sideways; there weren't many standards to uphold for Jockey Club registries; but she was a fan of a sweet temperament and proper conformation. So far, so good.

[jay]

The younger man sent a sharp look over at the older man when Abyss mentioned racing. Pain and traces of anger deepened the lines on the older man's face, and he turned abruptly away. With a soft sigh, the younger man turned back to Abyss. "Forgive him," he said quietly. "This filly's dam and his daughter were killed in a racing accident not long ago. However, this filly has shown amazing potential just in interacting with the other yearlings we had."

He then listened carefully as she explained her training methods. He smiled wanly as he glanced out at the filly, who had since dropped to roll in a nice dust bowl in the middle of the paddock. "I think with methods like that, you'll find Dancer will be more than willing to try anything you ask of her," he said, pride evident in his voice. "She's all heart. Like her dam the words 'quit' or 'give up' mean nothing to her."

Dancer leaned appreciatively into the scratches from both humans. After a few moments though, she had tired of them stroking her absently and speaking with each other. With a loud and semi-indignant snort, the filly turned and trotted bouncily around the paddock. Her brushy tail was held aloft like a little flag as she pranced happily for her audience.

[jagger]

Stepping away from the fence, she nodded glumly, scratching her forehead. "It's unfortunate. Horses are started too fast, too soon.. they break down. It's a tragic business. I don't. Run my horses that way." She paused after the "don't" for emphasis, expression stoic. She detested the less reputable in the racing business; and there seemed to be a lot of those.

Eyes on the filly for a second longer, they flicked to the paperwork posted for her, skimming the ad before formulating her next set of questions for him. "$6,500? Steep. Does she load, tie, trailer, clip? Good for feet and vet? Current on vaccines?" the tiny blonde was all business as she attended to the more delicate matters at hand; arms crossing in front of her chest as she watched the younger half of the duo with a stark determination. "She IS registered, correct? Or at the very least, can be?"

She assumed with a name like Tide Dancer she was in some way related to Northern Dancer and Nasrullah; though without a glance at a pedigree, she wouldn't know for sure. She had a nice, smooth topline; delicate ankles - which could be problematic but with some strength training not a problem - and a fine facial feature.. which bluntly did nothing for her speed but lended to that lovable trait people liked to bet on. She could see potential in Dancer.

[jay]

The man's face tightened when Abyss spoke about horses started too soon and too fast. It was almost as though she was blaming them for the accident. Worn down horse indeed! Color flushed through his face as he clenched his hands by his sides. "Both Mariana and Dancing Flower were in peak condition!" he said in a strained voice. "We wouldn't have let either of them run if we thought otherwise even for a moment!" He took a moment to swallow hard in an effort to control the rising emotion in his voice. "It was a windy day and a plastic bag flew across the track, spooking one of the less experienced horses," he continued, looking hard at the ground now. "It's jock couldn't control it and the horse spooked into Flower and Mariana, causing a misstep which sent them both to the track. The horses behind them couldn't..... they couldn't do anything..... it all happened too fast..."

Sensing the change in both her master's, Dancer snorted and trotted to the fence. She poked her head over the fence and gently pushed her nose against the younger man's chest. He reached up and absently stroked the star on her forehead as he took a moment to compose himself. He managed to and brought himself back to the conversation in order to listen as Abyss spoke again.

He nodded when she repeated the price. "She's got blood leading back to Northern Dancer and both her dam and sire had good track records," he said curtly, back to business. "She has shown amazing potential with a desire to win and courage. She's been worked with extensively and does what's asked of her. She's not fond of trailering, but all she does to reflect it is she rushes a tiny bit to get off. Other than that there have been no problems. Her vaccinations are current and she was registered this past January as that was when they considered her a yearling."

[jagger]

Hands held up disarmingly as he turned on her in tirade, she swooshed her right palm through the air in a cease and desist sort of movement. "I wasn't indicating you, I was indicating others." She snapped, irritated to be spoken to roughly. Abyss had a bit of an attitude; though that came with the territory of being a tiny woman. Blinking rapidly, she unclenched her jaw, listening to the situation behind the mares' incident(s). "I'm sorry to hear that. It happens, but it's always unfortunate to lose a horse untimely. I myself lost a filly - a five year old mare, actually - started as a three year old. Bad start from the gate; it failed to open completely and she exploded through it. Shattered her shoulder." She shrugged, saddened by that particular loss in her history - Mouse and Abyss had been rather close, and she had been the jockey that particular race. She still had pins in her knees and elbows from the mare stumbling over her as she collapsed.

Crossing arms over her chest, she stared at the filly quietly. "I'm interested."

[rain]

Hand-rolled cigarillo tossed about his lips as he chewed on the end, the diminuitive male frame was propped against a panel a few rows over as his keen hearing picked up on the conversation. Deaf jockeys were short-lived jockeys. If you couldn't hear someone coming up on your ass before you saw them, the race was over for you. This was a sense he prided himself on. He could hear a gnat sneeze from the back stretch to the front gate. No, really, he could. And it was with this heightened awareness that he freely eavesdropped on most conversations of interest. Whether it was a trainer relaying flog-logistics to his jock, or an owner expressing a demand to cheat across the board, Fergal had a way of hearing specifics and using them to his advantage.

Since arriving and setting up his new endeavor at Indian Valley, Fergal found himself, for the first time, with an empty stable. Sure, he had Sage, but Sage was old news to him. The easily sun-burnt stud colt was quickly on his way to earning his keep and then some, so it was time to turn his attentions on to the next opportunity. One thing he didn't count on was a lack of prospects and the last thing he wanted was to resort back to the Keeneland catalogs and ship another cookie cutter yearling in to start. He'd seen those wax models, he wanted something fresh - something new! It seemed there were no reputable track breeders for hundreds of miles in any direction, so as a last ditch effort, Fergal found himself browsing the auction grounds, half expecting nothing exciting to surface.

For the first hour, his suspicions were correct. He hadn't seen anything that was, in his eyes, worthy of anything more than glue and Alpo until he had sauntered through a potential sale that tossed out lingo he was affiliated with. That was when he took his perch against a distant panel and proceeded to listen in on the conversation he had yet to put himself into. Sure, the sale seemed to be a done deal, but Fergal knew the power of the higher dollar could always triumph. Upon learning that their sales pitch was based on tracing back to Northern Dancer, Fergal couldn't contain his laughter. What flat race Thoroughbred DIDN'T trace back to that monstrosity? Multiple times, for that matter.

Deciding that their price was a drop in the bucket compared to what he was accustomed to shelling out for a dirt-nag, Fergal shoved off the panel and approached the pair, flicking the cigarillo into the parking lot as he ran fingers through his hair. Just as he drew within earshot, he voiced up in the midst of their conversation. "Ten grand. Cash." Figuring he'd most likely piss off the tiny princess he was stepping all over, he cast a passive glance towards her and shrugged mildly before she could protest. "If in two weeks I think she's worthless, you can have her for five."

[jay]

Dancer's ears shot up at the arrival of the new man. She snorted happily and pranced along the fence until she stood closer to him. Her soft muzzle stretched over the top rail, nostrils dilating to take in the stranger's scent. She was immediately distracted by the older man shuffling forward to the gate. She whickered low in her throat, happy he had come to join them. Then, with a flick of her tail, she cantered over to shove her nose lovingly against his chest.

The younger man stared at the newcomer, clearly shocked by his offer. Sure the filly had great lines and seemed as though she had great potential, but she was untrained when it came to riding and racing. Bloodlines and potential only got one so far. That and half of today's racing stock had similar bloodlines, so those went even less far than before. He quickly glanced at Abyss, waiting to see her reaction. He hadn't really expected some sort of bidding war over the filly. "That's a very generous offer, sir," he said, ignoring the audible sound of disgust coming from the older man. Geez, Dad, he thought, Don't sound so happy. We thought we'd be lucky to get six for her.

[jagger]

"Oh, yes, I'd buy a worthless filly for five gees?" She snorted, sidling away from the short bulldoggish individual. Disdainful glance shot sideways, she eyeballed Fergal with a mild sense of dissatisfaction. She'd heard of him in passing. Shrugging her shoulders, she glanced at the filly's handler, the defeat in her eyes absolutely evident. "Sorry, love. I can't pay what I don't have. Monetarily, it would be better to accept the gentleman's offer. If the deal falls through, however.. call me."

She thrust a business card into his hand, stepping backward and angling herself away from the corral panels. She clicked her teeth as she went brushing past Fergal, a low hiss the only territorial utterance she could safely allow herself. Ridiculous. A bidding war on a yearling was positively unheard of; and there was no chance in hell she could afford much over seven on an unproven filly. "Best of the best." She flashed the handlers a cheery grin and stepped off, sauntering down the pens again.

[ooc - wow.. that um... sucked. lol! sorry, my muse is crap tonight. ]

[rain]

Aggravating people was something Fergal was well accustomed to. If anything, he found it to be a certain truth that if he wasn't pissing someone off on a daily basis, then what was he doing with his life? Sure, he made it lonely business being himself, but he often preferred it that way. He stuck to his horses because his horses listened. And if they didn't, he could just whack the crap out of them until they did. People, on the other hand, didn't respond so well to that approach. So, upon smelling and feeling the utter disgust that seemed to radiate from the teeny tiny broad as she shoved her way past him, Fergal happily marked her off as his "one-a-day" for the piss-off quota.

Having nothing to say to her as she indulged in her sore loser pity party, Fergal turned his attention back to the younger male who was now all his to deal with. Casting a passive glance back at the filly, whom in all actuality he had done little to study, he shoved his hands into his pockets and nodded to their trailer. "Well, if you'll deposit her at Lynch Fields, I'll have your money there." The pissant little man made the snap judgement that he wouldn't wait for a response and turned on toe to amble back towards the front of the auction lots in an effort to beat them back to the facility. If they had anything else to say to him, they only need to whisper. Lord knows, he'd hear them.

[jay]

The younger man waved absently after Abyss as she left. The man's offer had caught him completely off guard and he was still trying to wrap his head around the figure. It was insanely more than he had even hoped to get for the filly, especially since she was completely untrained. He figured he would be getting less than he had been asking for. But, to get that much, considering all that still needed to be done, the young man knew he couldn't refuse the offer.

He nodded when the man mentioned having her dropped off at Lynch Fields. "Not a problem," he said, "what time should we be there?"

[rain]

As usual for Fergal, the other individual's voice hit his ears and he immediately halted on toe to peer back over his shoulder. An eyebrow shot upwards in mild disillusionment as he eyed the other with a long, hard stare. Snorting indignantly, Fergal made it a point to glance at his watch in an asshole fashion before looking upon the seller once again. "Um, how does now-thirty sound?" And with a huff, he pivoted and proceeded on his way again. Really? Did he make it sound like he had grocery shopping to do beforehand? Apparently so. God he could be a jerk, and it never once crossed his mind as to why or whether it was productive to life in itself. He was simply - Fergal Lynch. And it wasn't so simple being him.

[ ooc - I'll post first. ;-) ]