The morning dawned, and Liz returned to take Tony from the stall. Tony cocked his ear inquisitively.
"You sure? It's hours yet to the race."
"I'm sure - putting aside the fact that keeping you cooped up in here is, to quote Max, 'not compliant with Tony Farms policy', I also want you stretching, and to help me keep Amaranth calm. This is her first time with this jockey as well as her first race, after all, even if her stakes are a hell of a lot lower than yours."
Tony nodded, his focus and concern shifting immediately to Amaranth. Liz smiled when he was no longer looking - she couldn't help but be charmed by the fact that the easiest way to distract Tony from his own potential stress was to direct his attention to his herd.
So for most of the morning, Tony assisted Liz and Amaranth's new jockey, a human man named Reggie, in preparing her for her first race. Reggie was on contract with Tony Farms, rather than being a permanent employee - ideally, Max said he wanted a ponyboy jockey for every horse, but that wasn't always possible given the relatively low number of volunteer ponyboys who opted for a jockey build. But soon it was time for Amaranth's race, and she and Reggie were off. For a moment, Tony could have sworn he heard a feminine voice saying "wish me luck!"
"Good luck!" he said, waving, then sighed, and turned to Liz, who looked sympathetic.
"I know, boy, you wish you could watch and cheer her on, but by the time she gets out, you'll already be getting geared up for your own race. Incidentally, we should get your harness back on."
"I know, I know...here's the harness, help me with the strap please...yeah, I realize I'm being a real mother hen, but I just worry about her is all. She's only a yearling!"
"Says the yearling," Liz said with a smirk.
"I'm different, I've raced before! Sure, it wasn't professional, but at least I know how I react to a crowd."
Liz nodded, giving his harness a quick tug as she secured it. As a racing harness, it was a bit longer than his stall harness - in the stall, his forearms were still mobile, but now his arms where pinned entirely to his sides. In theory, this was a token gesture to lessen the bloodsport nature of racing - denying ponies the ability to punch or grab one another - but in practice, everyone knew it meant that instead ponies were limited to kicks and bites, not to mention body slams.
"I have some more good news," Liz said as she released him once the straps were secure. The harness had been made especially for Tony, and so it was 'consistent with Tony Farms policy' - lightweight, supple, part of the uniform of racing rather than a degradation.
"Oh?"
"Yeah, in a sense. Stall one, on your left: apparently that pony had been acting up, so he's equipped with a bit and bridle."
Tony began stretching his legs slightly, prepping for the race.
"And that's good news to me because...?"
"Only one of the ponies on either side of you will be in a position to bite."
Tony snorted.
"You're right, that is grimly comforting."
"Good, because the...not bad news, but mixed news, is that your little friend from the stable is gate 5. Looks like you two get to settle this now."
"Ha, that's good news - get him out of the way. Ok, spell this out for me; four of these ponies are like me, from reputable firms, yeah?"
Liz grunted, attaching a lead to Tony's harness - not necessary in Tony's case, but standard enough equipment that she'd used it a few times before, practicing what she told Tony was 'winner's circle dressage.'
"Reputable for the most part. Three of four are California teams, one from Kentucky. The Kentucky team you can pretty well just bank on playing chivalrous, cheaters get blackballed fast in Bluegrass Country - but watch them, they make up for lack of cheating by being phenomenally trained. Of the Californa teams, all of them are CERAs, but I heard a rumor that CERA's going through a rough patch with some of its members."
Tony furrowed his brow.
"CERA?"
"Right, we never covered them, my bad. The California Equestrian Racing Association - CERA. They tend to act like a civilian counterpart to the PLRB out here - their concern is purely with the quality of the racing experience, they could give a damn about any other context ponyboys are found in. Some of their member firms want to push for stuff like what Max is doing, some just want to import European racing norms, and some want to keep things just as they are. In the past few years, though, they've pushed heavily for the California legislature to ban penal ponies from racing, or at least to impose stricter limitations and controls. The PLRB on the national level isn't happy, but the state PLRB is heavily staffed by people who want better paying jobs with CERA after their contract is over, so the CAPLRB fights the USPLRB on jurisdiction a lot - only KY PLRB fights more."
Tony groaned.
"Damn it, I hoped as a pony I'd never have to deal with politics."
Liz snorted.
"You don't have to deal with shit; I do, and Max does, you just run the race."
"Thank God!" Tony laughed.
An hour later, and Liz was walking him to his starting gate. Tony's breathing was even, he didn't flinch or jitter like most ponies - including some of the other racers. But his eyes were darting back and forth, scanning the competition. As Liz placed him in his starting gate and disconnected the lead, she brushed his mane gently.
"You doing ok in there, Tony? In your head, I mean."
His voice came out so calmly and evenly, she startled a bit.
"I'm doing fine. Quick final question - can you see how many of the competition is shod?"
Liz glanced around as best she could.
"Looks like...four of the prison ponies, including both on your sides, and all the Cal volunteer ponies. I can't tell about the Kentucky pony, he's all the way on the other end, but experience says he's probably not shod, or if he is they're the high-grade rubber shoes and they're glued on. It's all about chivalry in Kentucky - they think combat shoeing is unsporting."
She expected a snort of laughter from Tony, but he just nodded, looking straight ahead into the track.
"Ok...Liz, master and I discussed how I'm to handle my first race. I want you to know that I'm following his orders, ok? I haven't gone rogue or anything."
Liz didn't answer, but glanced down at his feet. His hooves were shifting, slightly, as if he were looking for the perfect footing - it wasn't quite a racing stance, though. Liz felt a grin breaking her face before she could stop herself, and she slapped Tony's rump affectionately.
"Knock 'em dead, champ."
Tony glanced back at her, smiling, flicking his ears.
"Don't be ridiculous, that's manslaughter. Ponyslaughter, at any rate!"
Liz cackled, closed the gate, and returned to the trainer area. Tony turned his gaze forward again. He could hear them, on either side of him - the muzzled one was grunting, snarling, but inarticulate. The other tried to get a rise out of him a few times, taunting him, but Tony didn't seem to respond.
[I'll have less than a second to make this work...I can do it. But...whatever gods or saints or spirits look after ponyboys, I could use all the help I can get...]
The final warning bell rang.
Time seemed to slow, and everything around Tony was still. He knew this was a lie, of course, that the other ponies were gearing up for the race and the crowd was preparing for their next spectacle, but for a brief moment, it all seemed distant to Tony, something he was observing from the outside.
[They can't see my feet. They have to guess my stance...]
He leaned his body forward, slightly awkward but stable, giving the impression to his two opponents that he was preparing to dart from the gate.
A yellow flag.
Tony took a deep breath.
Another yellow flag.
His legs weren't positioned to dart. Not at all.
A green flag. A bell.
The gate swung open, and all the ponies launched forward. The two penal ponies on either side darted forward to smash Tony between them.
Unfortunately for them, Tony hadn't run forward.
He'd rolled.
He'd taken one step through the gate to ensure they followed, and dropped to the ground.
The two ponies on either side slammed into each other with the full force of their intended charge against each other.
And then Tony completed his roll with a flip, slamming a hoof into each of their heads. They went down, and he sprang off them, charging ahead. The crowd went wild, and the announcer singled him out.
{OH MY! Ladies and Gentlemen, that was an amazing feat from Tony Pony of Tony Farms. Quite a show for his first step out of the gate in his first race!}
He was at the rear of the pack, but the other ponies had glanced back when they heard the crowd, and saw the medic teams rushing to the downed penal ponies. Tony spared them a brief glance. They were able to stand, but they were both bloodied and clearly wobbling. They were alive, but out of the race.
[Perfect.]
The other ponies seemed momentarily unnerved, except for the painted penal pony from the stable. He flicked his head, continuing to run. But Tony noticed he was pacing himself more now - letting himself naturally fall back in the pack. He wanted his showdown with Tony as much as Tony wanted it with him.
The crowd could see it too. They knew a grudge match when they saw it. They bayed for it.
{Oh, looks like Tony Pony has another problem on his hands, Leyland's Folly is pulling back!}
[Bring it, Trigger.]
Tony kept what, for him, was a steady running pace. Unfortunately for most of the other yearlings, Tony was much more powerfully built with his added breeder modifications. In the hands of an amateur trainer, that would still have been a liability, added bulk when he needed to be streamlined.
Liz Delacruz was not an amateur, and Tony was damn well going to prove it, especially to that pain in the ass barn manager. He was going to prove it the same way he was going to prove his brother's way of pony management was better. He was going to prove it the only way that crowd would understand: he was going to beat the everliving shit out of Leyland's Folly.
But not yet.
No, he had to let Leyland's Folly attack him, or at least be clearly doing so. He had to be the defender, as long as he could - the Tony Farms method, the Max Anderson school, whatever they were gonna call the thing, couldn't just be seen as brutally effective. It had to be...
He was gaining on the pack, and suddenly Leyland's Folly dropped back, stopped, half turned, LUNGED...
It had to be...
Magnificent.
Tony swung in, slamming into Leyland's Folly's waist, then shoved up, unbalancing his opponent, flinging him over the side. He kept running, glancing back just enough to keep an eye on where the son of a bitch was. Leyland's Folly hit the ground hard, but he was up again in an instant, pissed as hell. Tony felt sore where they'd connected, but not enough to affect his running; he was grateful for the training he'd done with some of the more experienced racing ponies at Tony Farms the past fortnight. He maintained his pace, eying the pack.
{A magnificent blow from Tony Pony once again! But Leyland's Folly is still up and about, and he doesn't look like he's ready to let Tony Pony have the final word! Theodoric still in the lead by a hair, followed by Dorian Mode and Anima Mea close behind, folks this an amazingly tight race!}
[Come on, get into range...]
He couldn't afford to keep glancing back, but Leyland's Folly was *too* angry - he was making mistakes, charging ahead when he should be saving his strength. More importantly, he was making a hell of a lot of noise.
"I'LL KILL YOU YOU LITTLE PUNK!"
[Finally.]
It was a masterpiece. Tony landed on one hoof, spun into a textbook perfect roundhouse kick, sent Leyland's folly flying, and then landed on the kicking hoof and kept going, all without breaking stride.
{HOLY TOLEDO! Ladies and Gentlemen, are you SEEING this? Tony Pony just laid out three competitors before the end of his first lap!}
The rest of the race was almost anticlimactic. The remaining two penal ponies shied well away from Tony, especially as he began to incrementally quicken his pace, moving forward into the pack inch by inch. The volunteer ponies shied away too, but when, at the inside of the hook, Tony and the Kentucky pony came within inches of each other, the Kentucky pony braced for a blow that Tony never delivered. Tony shared a nod with his competitor, then grinned, and piled on the speed. He opened a considerable gap in the last furlong, and the crowd was cheering his name when he crossed the finish line.
{LADIES AND GENTLEMEN! Ladies and Gentlemen that was frankly some of the finest racing this commentator has EVER seen from any pony, much yes a raw green yearling! Tony Pony for the win, TONY PONY FOR THE WIN!}
Tony whooped, prancing towards the winner's circle. Liz met him, ecstatic.
"TONY! Tony that was amazing!"
She grabbed him into a hug, then ruffled his mane. Tony just beamed in return.
"Brubaker Stakes, Liz. I had to win 'em."
"One day you gotta tell me what that means, but right now let's get your winnings purse and get you checked out by the vet. No buts, Tony, I don't give a damn if you can't feel it now, that's the adrenaline. When you wake up in your *bed* in the morning, God I'm so proud of you, when you wake up in your bed you'll feel that blow you got like it came from a freight train."
Tony just nodded along, high on his victory and, yes, the adrenaline. Soon everything became a brightly colored blur. His last coherent thought was:
"I wish Max was here to see it..."
Meanwhile, back at Tony Farms...
Bob shuffled nervously. The whole herd was here, not to mention most of the new ranch hands, watching the races of Amaranth and Tony projected on a screen in the barn. Max was so calm, but Bob couldn't help fretting. He whispered to his boss.
"Look, I know you and Liz are confident, and you've every right ta be, but, boss, what if y'all are wrong? What if Tony gets badly hurt? Liz texted me and told me they've got him racing a pair of double murderers and three rapists! It could really tank morale to have the whole herd watch that..."
"You're worried, Bob, because, firstly, as barn manager, it's your job to be mother hen."
"...granted."
"And, secondly, because you don't know what Liz, Tony, and I know."
Bob eyed his boss dubiously.
"Which is?"
"That Tony is going to feature prominently in the nightmares of those bastards. And, God willing, in their owners' nightmares, too."
An hour later, as the entire barn erupted in joy, Bob turned to Max, who was still smiling, calmly, at the screen. But Bob could see tears glistening in the other young man's eyes.
"ROGER!" Max cried suddenly over the crowd. The big breeder snapped his head back from the joyful group hug he'd been in with some of the other ponies.
"Yes, boss?"
"Pack a bag from your stall, have Bob get your travel milker, because you're being reassigned. You're officially the newest bed warmer in the Santa Anita Winner's Barn!"
Everyone laughed and cheered at that, and while they were ribbing Roger, Bob saw that Max took a moment to wipe his eyes.
[You know,] Bob thought to himself, [I may make myself sick worrying over these horses and ponies, but I wouldn't want to be anywhere but here.]