[TJC-TC-PS2019] Don't Try So Hard

"What are the plans after the Derby, Lord Pierce?"

"Is Cat N' Fiddle going to the Preakness?"

"--with no chance of a Triple?"

"Will she retire after this season?"

"Will Cat go to the breeding shed after this campaign?"

"Do you have a stallion in mind?"

Aden hated the Press, and for the most part he left it to Lloyd when he could but it couldn't be avoided entirely when you were on the Triple Crown trail. Rueben had reveled in it back in the UK. God, those days felt like a lifetime ago.

"You did good", was all that Lloyd said in his usual taciturn manner. Ordinarily Aden would have beamed at the praise, Paddison was a man that usually left such sentiments unsaid.

"Rang to gloat or actually… I dunno… congratulate me for once?", Aden joked, his voice lilting with mirth as he looked at the somewhat laggy video on his laptop screen then back to his selection of ties. "Which one?," he asked as he held up two random ties. "Whichever you pick, I will wear the other,"

"This is no time to joke, Aden, just shut up and listen. It's about Kitty", he heard his brother sigh through the speakers, "I've rang because..."

And not once did Reuben make a snide remark about shutting Aden up. Aden would have preferred it if he had.

"What?!", Aden exclaimed, "Reuben - you can't! You can't just..just… sell her from under me. Father wouldn't--,"

"We have no need for a racing mare, Aden. If she's not proven fertile --"

"Oh for f-"

"-- then we will have to sell. It's a genuine concern, Aden, her Sire's full brother was infertile."

Aden paused for a moment as he tried to compose himself. He didn't need reminding that Cigar had proven infertile when he had retired.

"When do you want the first test results?", Aden finally answered in a clipped tone, barely controlled.

Aden hung his head at the memory. Shit!

He could understand why. He could understand it had everything to do with money - business as usual at Orgarth. Race. Breed. Sell. Just… not his Kitty. His. It didn't matter that Father was her registered owner. That little chromed filly was his. He was there when she was foaled. He was the one to submit her registration paperwork. He was the one to name her.

"Did you know?", he whispered. Lloyd creased his brow as his face seemed to pucker under his wirey beard but he did not acknowledge Aden, nor did he seem remotely… remorseful or...or… sheepish. Aden snorted, Lloyd sheepish? He certainly was clutching at straws.

Aden scrubbed his hand across his face in exasperation. His professional relationship with Andy was strained and awkward due to his impulsiveness and now this.

"Did I know what the Earl had decided? No.", Lloyd finally answered as he looked up from his notebook. "Did I suspect? Yes. You might not like it, Aden, but this isn't all fun and games. We can't win them all and we can't keep them all."

Aden deigned not to reply and swallowed thickly. He knew what Lloyd had meant by 'them', he could feel his eyes upon him. What made Cat N' Fiddle special compared to the rest? Why did he reject any mention of selling her when it was the only logical recourse? Lloyd knew. Aden had grown overly attached. He wasn't going to openly admit it, though.

Andy and Cat had drawn Post 7 for the Preakness. Lucky number 7, perhaps? They certainly were in the thick of it, but at least they weren't on the outside this time round.

Arriving late after all the others had already settled in and started to work the track did little to settle any of the team's nerves, and Lloyd had his lips tighter than usual when she had asked why Kitty's transport was behind schedule. She usually arrived a day or two before she caught her flight. Andy wasn't paid to know things, just to race and after a bewildered askew glance and a shrug of her shoulders she didn't press it further. Although doubt nagged at her gut. She needed this ride.

Pimlico was a notoriously fast track with a short stretch, something that Cat was ill suited to if their timing was even marginally off. Their first few practise sessions had made that painfully obvious. Andy either gave the filly her head too late - the filly's erratic stride still increasing in extension even as they whizzed by the finishing post and around the first bend - or too early - Andy had tried to let Cat go at her sweet spot distance, which had her gearing up as they came through the bend, but the filly had drifted too wide and had lost time and pace even with her legs winding in before she sprang into the straight - and by gum didn't she fly when she did. For such a small filly she had an impressive stride length and angle when fully extended.

After the first few hiccups as both jockey and horse learned the track and its limits it seemed they had found the pivotal point on the final approach that complimented Cat's explosive acceleration with the track, it now all hung on the break at the gate and the press of traffic. All they needed was to break cleanly and bring her in to the rail, drop in behind the pacemaker and slip out into a clear track at the final push. But when did it ever run as smoothly as you envision? Andy laughed mirthlessly; never. With the likes of Panic Button; a yet undefeated colt in the midst of a strong campaign and promising career and fellow stake running fillies like Central Perk and Siren's Serenade - who including Kitty had the outer posts - whilst the Australian bred KhC Wonmoretime (who Andy had kept an eye on with increasing interest) had the preferable Post 2. The race won't be cut and dry by any means.

Even with the hullabaloo of arriving late, race day came by all too soon. The tension that never truly left hung in the air but Andy tried to not let it dampen her spirits. It wasn't every day you ran in the Preakness.