by Brian Cain
CHAPTER EIGHT
Another year past, truck loads of horses came and went some staying for a few days. Flaxmead learnt little because he didn't need to, he had never lost a start at his stately home against one horse or five others it made no difference he ran them all down. Palmer had been able to derive revenue from running horses against Flaxmead, although he had never run a race he had become a standard from which Wilson Hornswaddle and Bartholomew Fothrington were able to find horses with poor bloodline and reputations that were hidden winners. Wilson Hornswaddle and Bartholomew Fothrington voiced opinions based on track results at Blake's stable, no one knew how the retired merchant bankers were always right and their opinions had become highly respected in the industry. Palmer then noticed the thing he had been waiting for, Flaxmead started to run as fast as was needed not as fast as he could go. He won starts by a length time after time some against horses that may have well run backwards and some current champions of the day. Palmer ran slow horses with him for three months then suddenly ran against five of the world's best. Flaxmead was boxed in the pocket, broke to late in heavy conditions after rain and suffered his first loss. For the first time in Winston Blake's life he became despondent with his goal as he witnessed what it did to the colt, Flaxmead pulled up after the final marker and walked solemnly with his head down, a horse had finished in front of him and he knew it. Palmer had not considered this but it came to him he had never worked with a horse so intelligent. He had seen similar disappointment from Kalika's show mounts when they failed to clean a round of jumps but nothing as obvious as he had seen from Flaxmead.
Blake expressed concern to Palmer and they decided to push on with the belief Flaxmead's spirit would only be kindled by the experience. They waited the longest two hours of their life, it seemed like days. They paced up and down round the stable and walked the track, Flaxmead knew he was going to run again by Kalika's behaviour following a set routine. He stood on the wash bay tethered to a rail quietly waiting to run again, the two hours passed.
The stalls were loaded and he ran against the same horses of which one had defeated him purposely put in the stall along side him. Kalika was puzzled Flaxmead was calm not his usual strutting self and stood in the stall nearly motionless. She remained upright trying to work out what to do then Flaxmead stirred rattled the stall and whinnied not stopping until Kalika set herself to start. She had failed to call light she was concentrating so hard the stall opened and Flaxmead flashed to the lead cut to the rail showered the opposition in turf and never looked back. Palmer noticed his stride was full right from the word go. Kalika had never carried a whip Palmer banking on the horse being intelligent enough to work out his race plan himself with simple vocal instructions from the jockey, she laughed and Flaxmead powered on. A timer had been in place for some time at the three thousand two hundred metre mark. Palmer studied the time as Flaxmead cleared out over the last thousand to finish ten lengths ahead of the pack. Three minutes fourteen seconds, Bingo.
Flaxmead returned to his old self, he had only ever run with Kalika on his back, the tall girl had turned into a beautiful woman and weighed just over seventy kilo. Weight became no consequence to the thundering black monster. Palmer called on a friend little Johnny Watts a local jockey, he was short thin spoke with the voice as high as a singing skylark with a lisp and that fast you had to be a mouse to understand the details. They discovered a major problem, Flaxmead would not have the jockey go anywhere near him. As soon as they entered his space and put his helmet on Flaxmead let everyone know the little man was not going anywhere near his back or his stall should he have his own way.
They tried several jockeys over a few days with the same results. The jockeys were keen to have a go but the black stallion would have none of it. Kalika could mount Flaxmead with ease but a jockey would bring on the same behaviour. Palmer had never seen this before and thought about what to do. Blake Palmer and Kalika were the only people that ever went near Flaxmead, he tolerated Palmer and Blake and loved Kalika. Palmer then realised Kalika had shown Flaxmead to several of her girl friends and he had not moved a muscle some sitting on his back and being lead around. She once bought her boyfriend to see him and Flaxmead turned on him pinning him against the rails of his stall, luckily the boy had been okay the only casualty Kalika's relationship with the poor lad. The experience upset Kalika so she kept boys and men away from him. Men loved women and liked to show off to them, try and take a man's wife and look out. Car race teams often commented that if the drivers wife or partner was present the car some how went faster than when they were absent. Palmer was sure Flaxmead was a chauvinistic pig always showing off to mares and confronting stallions. Maybe Flaxmead thought he was a human being no one had ever shown him a mirror.
Kalika summoned her show jumping and equestrian riding friends and they all successfully thundered round the test track without a battened eyelid from the colossal stallion. He put a rare show on in front of them running or standing still, Palmer noticed females melted in his presence be they a horse or human. If a man gives his a woman the key to his door you just may get fireworks galore. Irish female jockey Sinead Courtney had piloted over twenty winners in the last year. She weighed thirty eight kilo and stood one hundred and thirty centre metres tall, her nick name was spindle twig but mounted on the back of a thoroughbred she had the heart of a lion. She initially refused to attend Blake's stables but heard the horse she was to try out was born in Ireland and had a change of heart. She was picked up by Wilson Hornswaddle and Bartholomew Fothrington and taken to the stables, her stomach muscles ached on arrival from laughing at the two eccentrics all the way from Bristol airport.
She changed into her riding uniform walked to the stable where she caught her first sight of Flaxmead saddled and ready to go. She saw horses every day but she stopped and looked at Flaxmead for some seconds, she also noticed Flaxmead had a distinct bouquet to her nose standing out from the rest of the common smells she was used to.
To Flaxmead she must have looked like a little girl as she put her helmet on in front of him, Flaxmead loved women and children and there in front of him were both in one package. She took Flaxmead's reins and the graceful giant walked along behind her like a cute puppy shaking his head and snorting occasionally. Kalika explained she would not need her whip and Sinead handed it to Kalika. She also advised her to replace the time she would commonly use her whip with laughter, Sinead asked how long Kalika had worked with Flaxmead and nodded with a smile when she was told. She mounted by herself and adjusted the stirrups and reins, Flaxmead remained perfectly calm. The shimmering black stallion took to a stall with neither guidance nor instruction and the stall door closed behind him. Palmer waited for a few seconds as all watched on then released the pair. Sinead gave a yohh as the monster was unleashed flashing to the rail with little Sinead tucked in behind his ears, on the third lap she could just be heard laughing and encouraging her mount and letting out a loud yahoo as Flaxmead kicked and thundered past the thousand marker for the last time. Sinead Courtney patted Flaxmead's neck as he cantered back to the stall in the lead off area. She dismounted and her Irish accent echoed in the courtyard. "Give me this horse and I'll give you the world." They had found the key that would unlock the cabinet housing the Melbourne Cup.
