Part 1: The Old and the New
Clatter of hooves upon hard, pressed dirt hailed the arrival of a new player in the dusty town of Pinto Mesa, the newly constructed settlement locked inside the San Palamino Desert. The small settlement rested many miles from the town of Appleloosa, a recently populated desert town, who’s inhabitants had found the means to overcome a year long rivalry with the indigenous Buffalo tribe whom had been living on the land prior for countless generations. The settlers of Pinto Mesa had little contact with other settlements, due to the Mesa’s remote location, even when compared to Appleloosa.
Out in Pinto Mesa, a similar problem had been brewing since the settler ponies first stepped hoof upon the most inhabitable soil. A well spoken, smooth tone erupted from behind neatly cleaned teeth from an earth pony, standing atop a cliff edge overlooking the small settlement. His white coat shined cleanly in the sun, and his dirt brown mane and tail drifting faintly in the breeze. “You know, Mr. Mud Sill, it’s really kinda nice from up here.”
Two ponies stood beside him; one was a dark, muddy brown with a sandy yellow mane. This pony’s mark was a horseshoe stamped upon a rock. The other was a dull green Unicorn, with a skinny frame, and a mane whose brown almost matched the tone of wet earth. The mark upon the Unicorn’s flank was a cloudy grey spider web. The brown pony stepped beside the white stallion, and looked upon the town. “I agree, Mayor Big Bug.” And without a moment’s pause, the green pony stepped forth, speaking as well. “It would be a whole lot nicer, if we get control of that river. Without the water under our hooves, we’re going to dry up and wither away down there. Ain’t no money in that.”
Mayor Big Bug turned his head, looking back to the green fellow. “Mr. Four Flusher,” He started, a gentler accent than the other settler ponies had toned his speech with an air of authority. “We mustn’t get ahead of ourselves, now. We both know before that can happen, we’ll need the Sheriff to lend us his full cooperation. It’s not like the little hum drum towns folk here are exactly eager to do the dirty work we need done.”
“You know, Mayor. There’s always the easy way about it.” Mud Sill’s oppressive voice replied. Four Flusher rolled his eyes, and answered before the Mayor had the chance, whether the Mayor had intended to reply for himself or not. “Don’t be a fool. The Mayor needs everyone to think they’re doing the right thing. You could intimidate them, sure. We know that’ll work. It’ll also inevitably cause rebellion.” Four Flusher and Mud Sill served as the Mayor’s personal bodyguards and advisors. Four Flusher was the brains between the two, while Mud Sill was most certainly the brawn. Naturally, they inevitably found themselves at odds.
“Mr. Four Flusher is correct, Mr. Mud Sill. With the Buffalo tribe in the northern hills and basin controlling the river, we would be setting ourselves up for repeated defeat.” Four Flusher fought the urge to shoot an expression of smugness at Mud Sill, and instead nodded in agreement. Mud Sill had taught himself to look away from Four Flusher when the Mayor sided with him, at any rate. He found that ignoring the problem gave him incentive to simply go with the flow, and avoid trouble where it wasn’t needed.
“Right.” Mud Sill growled out the corner of his mouth. “So how exactly is having the Sheriff under your payroll going to change anything in this little dusty lump of land?” The Mayor shook his head with a knowing smirk across his face. The expression seethed of deceit. This prospect concerned Mud Sill, for despite his attraction to power, the hiding of plans were always cause for caution. “In due time, Mr. Mud Sill.” Mayor Big Bug chuckled. “In due time. For now, I think we’d best get back to town. You’ve got some tax collecting to take care of, and I’ll need Mr. Flusher to assist me in some… city planning.”
Meanwhile, deep in the desert, upstream from the dusty settlement, many horned creatures rested in the shade of a large rocky formation. All around the largest mesa from which the town took its name, Buffalo had formed semi permanent housing in and around the cliffs. While many of the buffalo were simply lazing about, a nearly equal number were pushing baskets of grain and fruit gathered from the desert plants and grassland. Rare though abundant plant land was in such an arid setting, the buffalo tribes had lived on and adapted to the land very well over their countless years of desert dwelling.
A grand circle of stone encompassed a large stony fire pit where the buffalo held ceremonies and public nighttime fires. A particularly large buffalo with deep, earthy brown fur and grey horns rested in front of this great circle. Beside the great being, a smaller buffalo sat as well. Young and paler in color, he had white sunburst designs upon his front hooves. The big buffalo spoke in a stunningly low tone, resonating like a boulder rolling upon the ground. “Sun hoof,” He stated, naming the younger buffalo beside him. “My son. How long have you walked these lands for our kind?”
Sun Hoof stood, and walked before his father, the great Chief of the Buffalo of Pinto Mesa. “Years now, father. You have taught me to walk the sands and cross the waters of the river since I was a calf.” The Chief grumbled to himself. While not old, he was a highly relaxed and slow moving buffalo when no particular hurry was in order. He continued speaking to his son. “I am worried, Sun Hoof. The ponies down river are content. Perhaps too content.”
“But Chief,” Sun Hoof spoke, the gentlest tint of thought in his voice. “They pose no threat to us. We are taught that all share the world since we were born.” His father, the Chief, gathered himself, and hauled his massive frame to his feet, standing taller than even he looked while laying. “You misunderstand, my son. I do not wish to declare a war. I simply wished to ask something of you. I understand if you do not want to carry out this request.”
Sun Hoof circled before his father. “Of course. What do you want me to do?” The Chief walked to the edge of the shadow cast upon the dry ground from the massive cliffs, directing his gaze upon the river and ultimately the barely visible settlement in the distance. “These settler ponies believe this land to be empty. They see only the sand and cactus, the snakes and mice and hawks. I would ask that you make the journey into their town, to speak with their people. Show them who we are, and perhaps we can make some kind of friendship between our kinds.”
Sun Hoof stared upon the horizon with his father, not speaking. The Chief acknowledged his silence of contemplation, not speaking, but allowing the pause in conversation. Sun hoof finally replied, “I will try, if you believe that it is right.” The Chief bumped his son’s shoulder with his own in an affectionate manner, to show trust in his son. The Chief, however, also added a word of warning. “When you go, be careful. I do not think that these ponies wish us harm, but we do not know them. Avoid confrontation at all costs, and keep your eyes open.” Sun Hoof nodded, understanding.
The Chief and his son spoke a bit longer, ending their conversation about the settlement and its inhabitants. Sun Hoof progressed towards the river, to follow the water downstream towards the settlement below. As the Chief’s son shrank into the distance with each step, a buffalo with nearly black fur entered the stone circle and crossed to the Chief’s side. Jet-black fur circled above his hooves and across the tuft of thick fur around his neck. “Chief Stonehorn. You trust that these intruders will listen to Sun Hoof?” This buffalo was not quite as large as the Chief, but proved to be much larger than most others from the tribe. The Chief glanced to the side in consideration.
“He is a noble heart, and an honest speaker. If words will connect our two kinds, I am confident that he can be the one to start this friendship.” Chief Stonehorn answered, words of stony conviction and faith emerging like falling timber. The dark buffalo did not answer for a moment. He simply stared upon the distant settlement before speaking. “Chief, I do not trust these strangers. They corrupt the land with their homes, taking apart land from elsewhere to create boxes upon once beautiful land.”
“I know how you feel, Hard Heart.” The Chief said, answering Big Hard Heart’s concerns. “But I have faith that there is good in all creatures. We must trust that someone will listen to our display of brotherhood.” Big Hard Heart’s eyes rested a moment, as he considered the wisdom of the Chief. His lips loosened and he formed a small smile. “You are truly a wise buffalo, Stonehorn. We would be lost without your guidance.”
Chief Stonehorn shook his head, turning back to walk into the shade of the mesa once again. “No, Hard Heart. We would be lost without each other. Without you. Without Sun Hoof. We are all important. No buffalo should ever rely on simply one, but instead rely on all.” Hard Heart kept watch on the landscape as the Chief spoke his final words of wisdom while returning to his lazy rest. Walking back into the village as well, Hard Heart had hoped that the settlement would prove welcoming to their kind, and accepting of the gesture of friendship that Sun Hoof would bring to pony-kind at Pinto Mesa.
While walking down the bank of the river, Sun Hoof noticed a small buffalo silhouette against the shine of the water. As he approached, another young buffalo he knew was wandering up towards the village from the shallow waters. “River Blossom!” Sun Hoof called, realizing that the buffalo was a childhood friend. River Blossom was a young buffalo, about one and a half years younger than Sun Hoof, and they had known each other since they were young calves. River Blossom was a very peaceful sort of buffalo, and found her calling in keeping the river clean of blockage from dead branches and other debris from the desert or any inhabitants and visitors.
Sun Hoof naturally began discussing the settler ponies below with young River Blossom. The river has not only vital, but a sacred and treasured part of life for the buffalo. It represented a tether to the world, as it was their most dependant source of life in the otherwise utterly dry desert. Rain proved equally invaluable, but the permanent river running across the land was nothing short of priceless. As such, River Blossom was only one of many buffalo who maintained the purity and protection of the river.
The young River Blossom felt a natural sense of concern over the settlers. Not over a looming danger of pony against buffalo conflict, but over the safety and protection of the river and the land. It was perhaps an overly protective job, but the water was extremely valuable to the buffalo, for traditional reasons as well as for mere survival. The young lady gave a friendly nod to Sun Hoof as he passed by. They exchanged a few words, before Sun Hoof pressed on along the bank. Her work was in progress, relaxed though she looked, and Sun Hoof needed to reach the pony settlement by dark.
After his departure from the foot of the mesa, the young buffalo found himself walking along a dusty trail that began to widen into the general shape and gently winding direction of a road. Clearly the ponies had begun to trot the pathway into existence, as he and his kind had not known about such a path prior. A few silhouettes of ponies on the ever approaching outline of the town were walking around the streets, evidently performing some manner of work, as Sun Hoof had never seen so many moving so much for little known reason.
Some time had passed, as the cacti and dry desert brush passed along on each flank of the road, when Sun Hoof noticed a thin pony walking unmistakably toward him near the outskirts. This pony wasn’t young per se, but his thin frame gave the illusion of a younger age than he possessed. A dull orange-brown coat covered his body, topped with a dark red main and tail. Upon this pony’s flank sat the mark of three golden stars in the arrangement of a triangle.
The pony stopped some ten feet away, and smiled broadly. “Welcome to Pinto Mesa! Though, by the look of it, I’d wager you’ve been here before us!” The pony welcomed happily. Sun Hoof was taken by the display of kindness and respect. He hoped this boded well for his kind and the rest of the settlement. The pony continued to speak, “I’m Shave Tail! I’m a deputy of Sheriff Ace High. I noticed you comin’ down the new road, and thought I’d come show you the town. We haven’t had the chance to talk with you buffalo yet.”
Sun Hoof nodded, smiling in appreciation once again. “My name is Sun Hoof.” He introduced. “My kind have lived here on the mesa for countless generations.” The bluntness and diminished conversation from the buffalo gave Deputy Shave Tail a moment to think, but being a social kind of pony, he rebounded easily. “Sun Hoof? Strong name. I think the folks here will like that. We have good ponies here. There might be a couple bad eggs from time to time, but just steer clear of ‘em, and leave ‘em to the Sheriff and I.”
“I certainly do not want any trouble. I came here to see your village, and establish a peace.” Sun Hoof explained in the truest context. Shave Tail grinned, and bumped the buffalo’s shoulder, confusing Sun Hoof for a moment before he realized it was a simple display of friendship. The deputy walked Sun Hoof around the few streets of the small town, showing off the inn, the few stores, and some houses scattered between the main street and those peppering the surrounding desert.
They approached the jailhouse, where a cloudy grey Pegasus sat on a bench in front of the window. A nearly navy blue main and tail rested upon his back and neck, displaying his respective mark of a playing card Ace of Spades embedded into a cloud. The two new friends strolled towards the sheriff resting lazily upon the porch. “Sheriff Ace High, I found that wanderer on the outskirts. He’s a young buffalo named Sun Hoof.”
The sheriff stood up, stretched, and walked down the wooden stairs into the sunlight with the deputy and newcomer. “Buffalo, huh?” The Sheriff said lazily. He sounded unimpressed, but a sense of sleepiness accompanied this, betraying the possible sense of disinterest. “I’ve been meaning to talk to your kind, but never had the chance. I take it your folk aren’t interested in conflict?”
Sun Hoof’s eyes widened momentarily in genuine surprise. The buffalo wasn’t exactly naïve, but his honest desire for peace and kinship made him feel a sense of surprise whenever anyone questioned his intent. “Not at all. In fact, we had been waiting for one of your kind to come to us, as we were here first. Instead, the Chief sent me here to talk to your kind. We are honest buffalo. We work hard and only want to live in harmony with the rest of the world.”
Sheriff Ace High breathed a modest sigh. “I’m glad to hear it. I do apologize for not contacting your kind before. I’ve been busy here with our own affairs.” The sheriff referenced his resistance to the Mayor and his corrupt desires to control the entire mesa, and potentially region. Deputy Shave Tail walked with Sun Hoof down the road a little ways, with Sheriff Ace High in tow. “Y’all go on. Shave Tail, you show him where he can stay.”
The Sheriff, clearly preoccupied, returned to the interior of the jailhouse. The two trotted down the road, approaching an inn, which rested at the corner of the main street, and the only other major road, which intersected the town in a vague ‘X’. Shave Tail spoke again to the newcomer. “Sheriff Ace High’s been really busy lately.” He began, “Don’t let his reserved attitude put you off.” Sun Hoof simply glanced at the deputy, who only laughed once he remembered how quiet the buffalo had been already.
“Right,” Shave Tail stated plainly. “Well, here’s our only inn. You can stay in here for a price. I’ll have them give you a small room on the sheriff’s office since you’re new.” Sun Hoof followed the deputy into the swinging doors of the inn, and glanced around. Several ponies rested, drinking various beverages from mugs and playing games of cards. “One must pay a price to stay in such a place?”
Shave Tail explained briefly the nature of the hard working ponies. The fact that such an arid environment was so new to them, surviving was far more difficult than it was for the buffalo that lived here for ages. Even the grasslands were difficult to survive, when one had been accustomed to mountains and forests all their lives. As Shave Tail was explaining the inn and the settlers to Sun Hoof, a gentle feminine drawl came from the doorway behind.
“Shave Tail! You jumping little tumbleweed.” The voice cooed. Shave Tail turned, with Sun Hoof following suit. The rest of the inn didn’t seem to pay any mind. A lovely young pony of near pastel violet stood just inside the doorway. A gently curled mane of sky blue hung neatly, with her tail reflecting the same hue. A single yellow rose upon her flank stood out like a pretty little badge.
“Sandy Rose!” The deputy exclaimed in surprised happiness. “I didn’t think you’d be around here for some time.” The mare walked in, and met up with the two beside the bar counter. Sandy Rose explained, “We’ve been working the crops endlessly. We finally got a decent break from all the plowing and planting, so I figured I’d take a break and come on in to town to say hi.”
Shave Tail politely introduced the mare to the new buffalo friend, and the three sat together at a table near the window. “You’ve been a hard stallion to find, deputy.” Rose teased. The buffalo sat quietly, waiting the conversation to enter a more open state. Shave Tail explained the sheriff’s preoccupations and more complicated concerns without detailing too much, for fear of wandering ears.
From outside, Mud Sill had just finished shaking down an eccentric shop keep pony by the name of Odd Stick. The broad and drudging Mud Sill caught the movement at the inn from his peripheral, while he walked away from Odd Stick’s storefront. In the modestly fading light, Mud Sill cantered over to the window, peering in while the inn-goers paid no mind. Spotting the buffalo, Mud Sill scowled in a lack of understanding, before deciding to move in.
The large stallion pushed through the swinging doors, and this time the whole inn went silent. Every eye trained upon the mayor’s servant, hoping that his presence had nothing to do with any of them. Even the deputy and Rose went quiet, as the wide pony’s hooves clattered upon the boards with each step. He approached the bar without a word, eyes still following his movements. The bartender placed a glass on the counter top, and filled it with expensive imported apple cider. He knew better than to serve any less.
The thug downed the glass mug, and nodded to the bartender. The pony behind the counter walked away slowly, keeping his eyes to himself. Mud Sill turned his head slowly over his shoulder to the buffalo, ignoring even the presence of the deputy pony. “New here?” He growled. The buffalo stood, as plain faced as ever, but with intent to remain on good terms. He began to introduce himself, but Mud Sill cut him off before the sound even pierced the first syllable.
“Wonderful.” Mud Sill’s bored voice answered. “I take it by the fact that you’re a buffalo that you aren’t planning on living here.” Sun Hoof looked around the inn, noticing the concerned expressions on the faces of even the most grizzles of workhorses. “No, sir. I am visiting from my tribe land by the mesa. If you –“ Again, Mud Sill cut him off. This time his words were demanding. “Great. You’ll be staying here I take it?” He spoke, glancing this time to the deputy.
Shave Tail confirmed, explaining the general purpose and conditions of the buffalo’s visit. Mud Sill, however, disapproved. “Buffalo or not, nopony takes anything for free in these parts. It takes coin and resources to keep things running. I expect a tax for the mayor will be in order.” Sun Hoof looked confused, the concept of such extreme economy and taxation foreign to him and his kind. Shave Tail implored Mud Sill to go easy on Sun Hoof, but the brute simply ignored the deputy.
“I wasn’t asking.” Mud Sill stamped. “I said nothing is free here.” Shave Tail pulled a small bag from behind his belt, and tossed it on the table standing closest to Mud Sill. “Here, take this and go. We don’t want trouble, and Sun Hoof is with the company of the sheriff.” Mud Sill grinned before scowling at the deputy. He took a few steps forward towards the lean pony, and stood only inches away. While other ponies at the tables all recoiled instinctively, Shave Tail stood defiantly.
Mud Sill said nothing, but instead attempted to stare down the deputy. Shave Tail’s defiant stance did not falter however. His lean stature betrayed his heart. He loved not only his people, but also all who were kind and open of heart. He took his purpose as protector very seriously. Mud Sill gave a simple huff of a laugh, and stepped back. “Right.” He growled again. “If the law says so.” Shave Tail backed down, Sandy Rose clutching to his side. Sun Hoof sat back down finally, turning his back on the rude and cruel pony. Mud Sill said something under his breath about buffalo, which Sun Hoof readily ignored.
The brutish Mud Sill gripped the bag of bits with his teeth, and reared up by the doorway. He thundered out, and the sound of his hooves clattered into the distance, towards the mayor’s manor. As the inn slowly returned a state of ease, the deputy and Sandy Rose relaxed back into their seats. “He’s a goon.” Shave Tail explained. “He works for the mayor.” Sun Hoof was confused.
“I thought your mayors were your leaders? How is it that your sheriff and many of your kind are so welcoming, but you are led by cruelty and greedy corruption?” Shave Tail explained that Mayor Big Bug was the only pony that had the planning and enterprise skill needed to organize the town into what it was. This is why he and the sheriff were so busy. The Sheriff’s Office was doing all that it could to keep the Mayor’s greed in line.
The sun was dropping below the horizon now, and the mood had all but reset. Shave Tail offered to walk Sandy Rose home, as he preferred to be safe rather than sorry. “You’ll be alright?” He asked his buffalo friend. Sun Hoof nodded and stood up, moving towards the stairs leading to the bedrooms. “I will be fine.” He spoke. “We buffalo are a hardy kind. You do what you can to keep your ponies safe. We will talk again in the morning.”
