Chapter 1: Mommy Dearest
Big Mac swung his head around, shoulder and neck muscles bulging as he brought the splitting-maul down on one last chunk of firewood. The log split down the middle, separating easily into three pieces. He picked them up, leaving the maul lodged in the old stump as he filled the wagon with the last of the firewood. Sliding under the yoke, he slipped his harness into place and started hauling it up to the house.
Finishin’ up early, he thought to himself, glancing at the mid-afternoon sun. Should be enough time t’take a shower afore Ah head down t’see Ma. With a silent, resolute nod, he picked up his pace, wood rattling in the wagon behind him with every bump.
Meanwhile, back at the house, Applejack and Apple Bloom were loading the last bushel of the day into the cellar.
“Well, Ah reckon that’s all the chores you’ve got for today, Apple Bloom,” Applejack said easily. “Have any homework for the last few days of school?”
“Nope!” Apple Bloom grinned, surreptitiously giving her flank a glance to see if ‘apple storing’ might have earned her a cutie mark. Unfortunately, it hadn’t, but the prospect of a free afternoon in the late spring was too much fun to be too put out about it.
“So, got any plans fer the afternoon? Goin’ out crusadin’?”
“Nah,” Apple Bloom sighed, kicking the dirt lightly, her good mood broken the rest of the way by the reminder. “Sweetie Belle and Rarity are taking their Ma to the spa, and Scootaloo said she was going to be busy with Mother’s Day too.” Applejack winced, sitting down on the stairs down to the cellar, and patting her hoof against one of them. Apple Bloom went to sit next to her, and got a gentle hug from her big sister.
“Sorry, sugarcube, reckon Ah plum forgot what day it was. Why don’t we go back t’the house an’ take a look through some of Granny’s ol’ albums?” The older mare offered. “Ah can tell y’about Ma an’ Pa both.” Apple Bloom smiled up at her and nodded, and the two stood to start back up to the house.
Applejack frowned as she noticed the cart of firewood next to the house, shaking her head wearily.
“G’on and git the photo album with Granny, Apple Bloom. Ah’ll have to finish unloading this so we’ve got the cart for tomorrow.”
“Ah’ll help!” Apple Bloom piped up, hopping into the back of the cart to start unloading the splintered logs.
“Thanks, sug. Ah reckon Big Mac didn’t forget what day it was, even if’n Ah did,” Applejack chuckled, getting a load onto her back before carrying it over to be placed in a covered bin so it could finish drying out. As if on cue, Big Mac came out of the house, carrying a picnic basket on his back and wearing a set of saddlebags.
“Reckon y’all’re headin’ out to th’peat bog in the back twenty?” Applejack asked him, sighing inwardly as she saw that he’d clearly taken the effort to wash up after his chores already.
“Eeyup,” he nodded. “Was gonna tend t’loadin’ the wood after Ah got back,” he added, nodding towards the cart.
“In that case, yer welcome to it. Goin’ down t’talk to Ma?”
“Eeeyup,” Mac drawled out a bit longer this time, picking up a shovel in his teeth and slinging it against his side.
“Reckon the old peat axe is still out by the shed,” Applejack mused. “Just be careful, Mac… any chance Ah might be able t’talk y’out of it?”
“Eenope,” Mac shook his head, turning and starting to walk away.
“Just be back afore dark now, y’hear!” Applejack called after him. “Can’t be losin’ you out there too!”
“Eenope,” Mac agreed, continuing on out into the fields, towards the low-lying portions of the farm that were rarely visited.
“Applejack? Why does Big Mac always go down t’the swamp when he wants to ‘talk to Ma?’” Apple Bloom asked, frowning. “We always go out to Bloomberg’s ol’ hill, where Ma an’ Pa were buried!”
“Ah know, Apple Bloom,” the orange mare sighed. “It’s just… well, you see… it’s a long story, sugarcube. But Mac an’ Ma were always mighty close… y’might’ve even called him a Mama’s Colt, if’n y’didn’t mind gettin’ cuffed across the head for it. When she passed… it was mighty hard on ‘im. Harder than it was when Pa died, an’ Ah didn’t make it any easier by runnin’ off t’Manehattan t’get away from the hurtin’. Ah reckon that… well, Ah reckon somethin’ inside ‘is head just ain’t quite right since, an’… well, he’s tryin’ t’keep part of her alive, Ah s’pose.”
“That don’t sound wrong in the head,” Apple Bloom frowned. “Ah think it sounds kinda nice, m’self! Kinda like why Ah always wear Ma’s ribbon,” she added, shaking her head to emphasize the pink fabric. Applejack smiled sadly, leaning down to nuzzle her sister gently.
“Ah guess you’re right, Apple Bloom. Still… it ain’t quite like Ma’s ribbon, an’ Ah just worry that one o’ these days somethin’s gonna go wrong. Reckon Ah shoulda stopped it when Ah first found out,” she muttered to herself.
“Stopped what, Sis? Y’ain’t makin’ sense,” Apple Bloom scowled.
“Don’t you worry none, sugarcube. Celestia willin’, y’ain’t ever gonna have t’find out,” Applejack decided. “Now come on, let’s go find them scrapbooks. Reckon Granny oughta know where t’find ‘em. What was it you said Scootaloo was doing for her Ma?”
“She wouldn’t say,” Apple Bloom shrugged. “I think she didn’t want to make me feel bad by talking about it too much, but I’m sure she’s going to be having fun.”
Author's Note
Don't worry folks, the clop will follow. And we'll be following others before coming back to Big Mac's picnic....
