[TJC-TC-KD2019] The March of the Black Queen

Damn that self entitled arse, Andy fumed, as if he could do any better. Perhaps he placed too much faith in the filly's ability because the young jockey knew that she had made no one big mistake to culminate in a string of poor showings since the Juvi yet the Pierce boy seemed to lay the blame at her feet.

Andy couldn't shift the blame nor fault the little chromed filly; Cat always gave her all and pushed for her ideal place in the pack no matter how the break from the gate fared - which left the filly prone to fading at the final sprint, oh, ok so that was one criticism but she responded well to the bit and didn't fight for her head overly much as Andy held her back from exhausting herself.

Andy and Cat came to the Derby as outsiders with the likes of Central Perk in the list there wasn't much talk to be had for a small mare with only one poor run in her three year old season. As the week rolled on the track goings became less and less favourable for Cat's erratic stride and nearly culminated in the filly being scratched due to a suspected injury from a less than sure step in practise. Andy could just hear a phantom whisper of Aden bemoaning that it would somehow be her fault, and heaved a sigh of relief when the vet signed Cat off with a clean bill of health.

The twin spires of Churchill Downs stood as silent sentinels in the shadow of a heavy and churning sky, the clouds roiling; pregnant with the promise of lashings of freezing rain or flurries of wet snow. Just fan-tastic, Andy grouched, at least good ol’ Blighty didn't have snow in May. May! Honestly, if Andy hadn't seen it she wouldn't have believed it. Shivers rolled through her as she stuttered greetings through chattering teeth as a cross breeze blew through and the wind chill seeped into her bones

Cat looked nonplussed as the groom held her steady as Andy mounted and made their way through the paddock.

The Holy Bull had been a bust, the race had started… well, all things considered. Cat had broke late and expended too much energy trying to claw a space in the pack to lay in wait for her opportunity but as the last stretch neared Aden watched with mounting horror as the gaps were slammed shut - too small for even their small filly to squeeze her way through - and watched with resignation as the leaders pulled away.

Cat N’ Fiddle came away with her worst showing yet - 5th place. Perhaps he was asking too much, expected too much of his little chromed filly? She had yet to win another race since breaking her maiden in the Bashford Manor. And although it was a graded stakes win, perhaps Cat wasn't cut out to be in Grade 1 company? She had placed well in the Frizette, only just being pipped to the post and having to settle for 2nd, but her only other grade one experience was her sub par showing in the Sentient Jet Juvenile. The water was no less muddy even now, Aden just hoped they recouped their costs and Cat finished the race hale and healthy. Whatever happened this season would lay the foundations for what was to come.

“--ard Blue could be a good match. We have good relations with White Glass Reserve and it couldn't hurt to enquire early.”, Lloyd said, dragging Aden from his thoughts.

“Pardon?”, Aden didn't even attempt to mask his inattention and even as he glanced at Lloyd Paddison he felt the undertow of his thoughts trying to drag him back under.

“I said,” Lloyd grunted, the sharp sound refocused Aden's wandering attention, “That Mustard Blue could be a decent match for Cat N’ Fiddle for her first foal.”

Aden felt the corners of his mouth curl down and his brow furrow in contemplation; Blue was a smart fit. He had outraced his pedigree by far, his first crop having only just hit the ground and the young stud had yet to prove if his progeny could match their sire's caliber on the track. If there was any time to take a calculated risk it would be now and on an upcoming sire such the like as Mustard Blue. Yet here they were, at Churchill Downs awaiting the post time of the Kentucky Derby instead of playing it safer and having Cat run in the Oaks instead.

“Hmm,” Aden humed, “Who's going to ring Phestus and start negotiations?”

It didn't hurt to have a backup plan. Did it?

The track was a quagmire, Cat's stockings were already stained and Andy's silks were speckled as she put the little filly through her pre-race warm-up.

Cat snorted, a hot plume of breath misted in the frigid air.
“I know girl,” Aden cooed, stroking her neck gently as she shifted her grip on the reins and brought the filly back around towards the gates at an easy canter. “I know you don't like it. I don't like it. But we'll give it our all, won't we?” Another well timed snort, this one sounded much too similar to a long suffering sigh for Andy not to chortle in surprised laughter.

The tension was strung tighter and tighter as jockey and mare waited to be loaded. Gate 10. Cat never played nice when she started this far wide. Starting in Gate 9 at The Sentient Jet had Andy fighting to keep a hold of Cat's head the entire race and left them at a loss as they fought one another rather than fighting together - the closing stretch saw Cat pick off a few places before crossing the line in a disappointing 4th - especially with how keyed Cat had been before the race.

It was a small mercy that the wait for the final horse to be loaded came quicker and it was only a bare moment of muted silence before the clang of the gate release brought all the noise together into a hyper focused din.

And they're off in the 145th Kentucky Derby...