by Brian Cain
CHAPTER NINE
Palmer advised Blake that it was time to move Flaxmead closer to his goal and acclimatise him. When Blake acquired Flaxmead from William McPherson an agreement was set for McPherson to send a bloodline certificate to Blake that he promised to chase up from the Irish Stud from where Flaxmead was born. Blake was sure it was safer to not register Flaxmead until immediately prior to his first race in Australia. He saw no point in shuffling paper in the UK for nothing repeating the process in Australia drawing attention at a time that he felt was not right. It was over a year before the certificate arrived in the post and it puzzled Blake and Palmer as they had mulled the information over the past months preparing paperwork to present to the Australian racing board. The sire and dame listed on the certificate were Australian horses as were the majority of the family tree but the paperwork was Irish. Blake has spoken with Palmer on several occasions on the topic and he suggested the document was a forgery so Blake rang William McPherson and the riddle was solved.
McPherson apologised to Blake for not including an explanatory letter stating he wrote poorly leaving school early to pursue a career as a jockey and had forgotten to ring Blake now some time since the certificate was dispatched. The story McPherson had about the stable fires and Flaxmead having three possible fathers was correct but it did not happen in Ireland but a place in Australia called The Hunter Valley where the stud had an affiliate operation. Bushfires had caused major infrastructure damage at the stud and Flaxmead's mother was shipped to Ireland with other horses shortly after the accident where she remained to this day. It had taken many months of paperwork to and fro between the countries before an official certificate had been issued.
Flaxmead was conceived in Australia by Australian horses and born in Ireland.
Palmer knew none of the blood line names scribed on the certificate and now had a better idea of why, maybe they were grade one performers. Blake insisted it was of no consequence as the son of Pavarotti would last five minutes as a singer if he couldn't sing. Investigation of records via the internet revealed the mother to be of successful heritage but the father was a young colt up for sale that at the time had not run having no proven ability. They perceived this to be a major reason Flaxmead had been cast aside, the straw that broke the camels back when risks were weighed up. To big, bad attitude, unproven bloodline, exit via the back door and don't come back. The horse still had no identification chip but at least the paperwork had been sorted. Blake was a wise man and studied the registration requirements to the smallest print and acquired DNA identification certification for Flaxmead's mother and father just to be safe. The horse racing world appeared to have the odd smiling assassin here and there.
He stretched over to pick up the phone studying an Australian contact number in front of him and as his hand touched the phone it rang, disaster. Kalika looking for her father in a hell of a mess, while practising for her first open class showjumping championship final in two weeks time her mount Tarrant with her since she was twelve had fallen coming up lame. Kalika was inconsolable, she had worked since she was twelve to win an open when she was old enough and with one event to go was on even points with Scott Lillian Hildebrand trainer Ross Hildebrand's daughter.
It was two days before Blake found Kalika out of her quarters; she was holding on to Flaxmead in his stall her arms around his neck swaying from side to side. She jumped when Winston spoke. "I'm terribly sorry Kalika." She didn't respond just kept swaying. "You have another mount."
Kalika let go of Flaxmead and looked around to Winston, her eyes were red from crying, her long locks had not bee brushed for two days and she resembled a scare bear.
"Muffins too little now I'm in the big league. Tarrant was my only chance."
"I wasn't referring to Muffin."
"But I don't have a third hor.... Flaxy!"
"He can jump, he cleared his compound when he was six months old."
Kalika nearly smiled looking Flaxmead in the eyes. "I couldn't do it to him, he's off to fill his destiny. I know you've been planning his journey, Dad told me."
"Rose has been gone for a long time Kalika and you are here. Ill never give up so another two weeks is nothing. He's as much yours as mine. You and I know he can do it. He's watched you and Tarrant across the fence for the last two years, when you were practicing I know where Flaxmead could be found, when you were running Flaxmead Tarrant was always there. When Flaxmead goes it may be harder on them than us. Take him home and let him see what's happened to Tarrant, put Tarrant's saddle on him and the rest will be history."
Kalika opened Flaxmead's stall and lead him out kissing Blake on the check. "You're a wonderful man Mr Blake. If only I could, Tarrant made the final not me, someone else could ride Tarrant if I was injured but I can't change Tarrant that's the rules. There's always next year."
"You're a wonderful daughter young lady. You're father is very proud of you." She mounted Flaxmead bareback and the black giant trotted towards the Palmer's property.
"Charmer," she shouted as they left the stable.
Blake was juggling two phones in his home office as Palmer came storming in the door. "Flaxmead's missing!" Palmer stood in the doorway panting as Blake finished his call and put the phone down.
"The vet will be here in the morning," Blake said calmly, his office over the last two years had taken on the smell of a stable an environment he now felt at home in.
"Be here to what? Geezer here yesterday checked him out he's fine."
"To put his registration chip in his neck. The chip goes into the nuchal ligament just below the mane about half way between the poll and withers on the left side so I'm led to believe."
Palmer calmed. "I know that, I thought you were going to do that in Australia."
"Things have changed."
Palmer sat down in front of Blake looking at him across the desk. "Like what?"
"Like your daughter needs two mounts and two different disciplines to ride in. She's lost Tarrant and her goal stretches out to next year. The more I learn about his game sometimes the task seems insurmountable. If she had been able to run Flaxmead in an alternative discipline the year would not be lost."
"She's too heavy to jockey on the flat."
"I thought more along the lines of that knees bent, showing off poncing about the place, dressage I think it's called. That would be right up Flaxmead's alley."
Palmer burst out laughing. "Discipline, he's not good at it. Catch me if you can or get out the way I'm coming thorough yes he's the best."
"I'm thinking of keeping him here and getting Kalika to dressage him next year, I think you're wrong."
Palmer was silent and looked blank. He looked down at the wall out the window then back at Blake. "I came here to help you find Rose, I think you're right, she is alive somewhere. I couldn't bear to think any other way if it was Kalika. He's ready, he's unknown and they don't know his coming. By the time he's won his money, the Cox plate and Caulfield cup you'll be a household name and so will he. By that time when you ask the question someone just may listen."
Blake stood up walked to the window and looked out at Flaxmead frolicking around with Kalika bareback on the training track." Get Rose a second mount, whatever she wants. When we leave in a few days for Australia this place is yours to run. Turn it into a dressage and showjumping centre, get Kalika her championship. Bring Wilson and Bartholomew's fastest here and keep finding them horses they seem to have found their destiny. Time for Flaxmead to find his. Sometimes the endeavour for destiny and truth can leave a gapping hole in ones heart." Blake's eyes welled with tears. "Today is one of those days."
A week later Blake and Flaxmead vanished.