by Brian Cain
CHAPTER SIX
A year and a half past and Flaxmead indeed turned into a thundering menace, Kalika and the stallion became inseparable. Flaxmead could clear his holding yard when he was six months old and ran up and down the Palmers fence screaming for Kalika. His fence around his holding yard was raised but Kalika objected hearing him scream for her of a morning, a scream unlike any horse they had ever heard, piercing, it could reach the edge of town, some kind of message perhaps not for the faint hearted. Winston received complaints about the noise and had a visit from the RSPCA checking on reports of cruelty. The local newspapers turned on the perpetrators of the rumours but Winston poured cold water on the lot by praising the locals and the RSPCA for making sure animals were well cared for. Kalika was housed in a guest house erected next to Flaxmead's quarters curing the problem and Roger Palmer and his daughter now devoted all spare time to Flaxmead.
His diet was closely monitored with calcium supplements and foods with a wide nutrition value to keep up with Flaxmead's staggering growth rate. Palmer could saddle the horse by the time it was six months but had not put Kalika in the saddle until now. The all-embracing facilities available had Flaxmead jumping from the staring gates from his back legs in a flash by the time he was one. Palmer had children on Flaxmead's back as of the time he was one gradually increasing the size of the child used as he grew and always retained behaviour when ridden by a child. Flaxmead would yearn to bolt and could run the track tethered to a land rover with just his saddle and weights in record times, but could he do it with a rider.
The day came to run Flaxmead with Kalika in full flight; the atmosphere had an eerie silence while the vet checked his condition. Many hours of Palmer walking him, laying him down talking to him telling him who he was and showing how to be the champion of all champions was about to be tested. The vet commented he had the loudest and strongest heart beat he had ever encountered from a horse. A farrier checked his shoes making a few adjustments common on growing horses. The decision to run him out of the gate then steady for a thousand metres pull him up and check him again was considered safe by Palmer because he had so much one on training and was fluent with launching himself from the gate and hugging the rail. However Flaxmead had other ideas, horses aren't stupid and he had been at the Roger Palmer University for thundering lunatics for a year and a half.
Flaxmead became agitated and excited as Kalika mounted him with help from her father he was already sixteen hands. She guided him to the gate set up on the lead off on the barn end of the training track, he became super hyped and Roger Palmer could not take the halter on his head to guide him in but he didn't need to as Flaxmead shot into the open starting gate and it locked behind him. Palmer reminded Kalika to shout light when the starters light came on, he had averaged hundreds of starter's times from when the light came on to when the gates opened and taught Flaxmead to haunch ready to break at a set time. Palmer had no idea if it would work and got the idea from how a certain formula one racing car team trained their drivers, they constantly showed results from the starting grid way above everyone else. He manned the gate trigger, things were tense even Wilson and Bartholomew had become interested and watched from the sidelines with vets children mothers and friends.
Kalika shouted light as her father turned it on studied his watch Flaxmead lifted his front legs and balanced ready to lunge and the gate flew open. He shot from the stall and flew like a bullet straight to the rail with only inches from Kalika's ankle to the white railing. The track turns were tight and Kalikas boot just scraped the railing once as Flaxmead leaned into the corner he did not make the mistake again. Kalika didn't touch him just sat behind his ears she smiled as her eyes began to stream with water. "Go Flaxy go," she laughed with contentment and Flaxmead kicked up a notch. She attempted to slow him after the first lap passing the timing marker but he refused to stop or slow down Palmer and Blake studied the sophisticated laser track timer read out fifty seven seconds."
"Blimey," was Palmers reaction. He had expected Kalika to stop but they powered on. "He won't stop, he's taking her round again." Flaxmead flashed by passing the timer for the second time. "Lap time one minute and one second aggregate time one minute fifty eight seconds, that can't be right there's something wrong with this lot." Flaxmead powered on Kalika tried to convince him to pull up.
"Flaxy come on love time to give it away," she shouted. He settled to a blistering pace but kept going passing the timer for a third time.
Palmer and Blake looked at each other. "Cripes just under three minutes," said Palmer.
"Is that good?" asked Blake.
"Good, unheard of, nor spoken of, if this things accurate that's the fastest horse on the planet."
Flaxmead cantered to a halt after the fourth lap agitated, striding around in front of them showing himself off grunting clawing the ground with his front legs and rearing up with screaming whinnies, Palmer averted direct gaze in a show of respect for what he had achieved the horse responded and came to a standstill. Kalika slid from his saddle and he lowered his head into her chest. "Flaxy hail the king, you're a champion Flax I'm so proud of you." She led him to the wash down slab and he stood poised enjoying Kalika's attention and approval.
The gathered stood around and watched the gleaming black stallion, its not every day you see the birth of a king and the atmosphere was electric. Wilson Hornswaddle and Bartholomew Fothrington had never seen a horse run let alone one like Flaxmead. They were in earshot of Palmer and Blake as they discussed the next moves.
"Well he's a champion and can run but he doesn't know how to race. He needs to run against other horses of the same standard and theirs not many around. Three would be all right so he can gauge pace over distance and work out how to move if he's blocked in the pocket," said Palmer.
"Blocked in the pocket, I'm not sure I understand," commented Blake.
"The racing industry is often about money, big races may have several horses in an event or be affiliated with other stables all can affect a result. Block a horse like Flaxmead in and he needs to know what to do. He's liable to push his weight around and cross the line regarding rules of engagement. Some people like to win races even though their horse is not the fastest. He's a champion but we need to teach him how to race."
"That something I never would have thought of. How much to get three horses here he can work with," asked Blake.
"Not the question really me old fruit, would they part with them. Would I sell my best horse to someone who had a horse that could run it down? No Id want the horse that could run it down. We would be attracting too much attention. I don't know what to do here between a rock and a hard place. If we start to run him in races the same thing we'll happen. He'll be hounded locked out chased by the rich and famous nobbled rustled all manner of things. Still his destiny is in Australia, long way away. If we can find horses and keep it quite he'll hit them before they know what's happened."
"I would have thought the sport of kings was a bit more above that kind of thing," commented Blake.
"Yeah, well its better than it's ever been but there's always a few rotten apples in every barrel. Ill start looking but they already know Flaxy's here. See the silver Mercedes on the side of the road. Its not there because it's broken down, chances are they know Flaxy can run now. Looking for grade one runners and buying them is going to cause a stir."
Blake ran his hand through his hair with a look of anguish. Wilson whispered to Bartholomew his refined plum in mouth accent was in stark contrast to Palmers wide cockney slur. "Are you thinking what I'm thinking?" asked Wilson.
"I think I'm thinking exactly what you're thinking and I second the motion. Never had so much fun in my life, lets do it." He raised his voice towards Blake. "Em Winston a word if we may."
"Ahh Bartholomew, nice of you to come and see what's going on. Bit boring for you I imagine but you being here is rewarding. Haven't seen you for a while now, I've missed you."
"Since you left we've been as miserable as sin, bori
ng never been so excited in our lives, rewarding we sold out last week building a new hospital in Bristol for the community called the Jacqueline Blake cancer centre. We owe you everything Winston. Now where do we find these bloody horses you want?"
Palmer and Blake looked blankly at each other. "They won't like you muscling in and buying up grade one thoroughbreds, you bring them here and the connection will be obvious," commented Palmer.
"I was thinking the same thing my good man," said Wilson. "Then we'll buy their operations sack them and you'll be in charge. What would you rather do sell a good horse and remain buoyant or loose everything. Now Winston will tell you the answer to that I'm sure."
"Id rather he make it by himself gentlemen, by all means get involved but all above boards," said Blake.
"Absolutely Winston everything above boards, three of the fastest horses on the planet stayers from what I can make out if you pardon my limited knowledge will be here within a month. You look after the horses, well look after the mob and the money. You see we did learn from you Winston, how not to run our damn lives."
Winston was shaking his head smiling and looking at the ground nervously moving dirt around with his designer shoes. "I wonder if the industry will forgive me for delivering you pair to its midst."
Wilson put his hand on Bartholomew's shoulder looking him straight in the face. "I have a contact in the middle east who can have a horse here next week."
Bartholomew thrust his face in front of Wilson's. "Poppycock, I'll have a horse here within days, I know some people you don't even know I know." He walked towards the Rolls the chauffeur opened the door. "Elderslie take me to the airport, no wait Ill drive give me the keys."
Elderslie in his perfect black suit top hat and white shirt looked shocked. "Sir you don't have a licence you've never learnt to drive."
"Damn, in all this excitement I would have liked to have. The airport Elderslie and get rid of that ridiculous outfit, look more casual looks like were showing off."
"Yes sir."
Wilson winked at Blake and Palmer and shouted at Bartholomew making haste toward the car. "You leave that door open I refuse to let you have fun without me."
"Always following never leading, story of your life."
Wilson pushed his way into the car, "Well see about that, I bet you five quid I have a top stayer here before you."
"Huhh, a man and his money easily parted." The door of the Rolls closed and the car left the grounds in a cloud of dust.
Kalika had watched the happenings with wide eyes and scepticism. "Are those real people Mr Blake?"
Blake and Palmer burst into laughter. Winston put his arm around Kalika and hugged her as they watched the Rolls speed off along the main road it slowed by the silver Mercedes and from the rear window of the Rolls a clear middle finger gesture was displayed to the occupants of the Mercedes. "Yes they are real people love, they just discovered what it is to have fun and find it a little intoxicating. I suppose one day I will have to apologise to the racing industry for awakening two sleeping giants."
Palmer grinned at both of them. "Looks like well get our horses then, wouldn't miss it for all the tea in china me old china, heh heh."