Chapters They Shoot Ponies, Don't They?
“They Shoot Ponies, Don't They?”
by Donny’s Boy
Chapter 1
It was crazy--that’s what it was. Missing an apple tree, especially an apple tree who had the best new home that an apple tree could ever ask to have. Besides, she’d made Braeburn promise to take the very best care of Bloomberg that he could, and nopony knew better than she did that an Apple was always true to their word.
But today marked the one-year anniversary of the trek out to Appleloosa, one full year since she’d last seen Bloomberg, and Applejack couldn’t deny the slight ache in her chest or mild sting in her eye. It was crazy, she knew--Big Mac had said so, and Twilight had said so, and even Applejack had said so that morning to the dang fool pony staring back at her from the bathroom mirror--but crazy as it may have been, the truth remained the truth. The truth always did.
And the truth was, Applejack missed her favorite apple tree.
The farmer sighed as she trotted down the rows of trees that presided over Sweet Apple Acres like proud sentinels. She patted a few of the trees’ trunks as she passed by. She supposed the trees didn’t know just what she was thinking about, that she was mooning over Bloomberg, and that meant there really wasn’t anything to feel guilty over. She felt guilty, anyway.
As she made her way down the rows, Applejack paused here and there to buck a few trees. It wasn’t harvesting season. There wasn’t any real reason to do it. But it gave her something to do, an excuse to stretch her legs and a feeling of purpose, and so she bucked the occasional tree on her walk around the orchard. And if it helped keep her mind off a faraway town in a faraway desert, well, maybe that wasn’t such a bad thing.
Eventually--inevitably--she ran out of trees. With another heavy sigh, Applejack trudged back toward the barn and hoped, just this once, that Big Macintosh hadn’t finished up all the chores. All the way back to the barn, she kept her mind busy thinking of everything that might still need to be done. The plow might still need fixing, or the hogs might still need slopping, or Granny Smith might need a hoof getting supper started. There was almost always plenty to do on a farm, after all.
But as Applejack came upon the barn, she passed by the hogs, who were happily eating at their troughs, and she spotted a perfectly immaculate plow as soon as she stepped inside the barn’s large red doors. Big Macintosh glanced up from a nearby pile of straw where he was reclining, and he quirked a brow in her direction.
Applejack felt her ears droop. “I don’t reckon Granny could use any help with supper, huh?”
“I don’t reckon so.” Her brother slowly shook his head. “Apple Bloom’s in the house helping right now.”
Applejack nodded in defeat.
Big Mac waited a beat or two before he asked, in a casual tone, “You feelin' any better than you was this morning?”
“It was just one apple tree,” retorted Applejack, scowling. “You and me both know that, Mac.”
The other pony merely made a thoughtful humming noise in the back of his throat.
Applejack turned on her heel. “I’m gonna go check the mail.”
And that’s just what she did. She pretended she didn’t notice Macintosh’s eyes on her the entire walk out of the barn, and she pretended she didn’t notice how loud the door slammed when she kicked it shut behind her. Instead, she just kept on walking, marching with grim, resolute dedicaton down to the mailbox at the end of dirt road that led away from the house.
There was only one letter in the mailbox, a bright pink envelope that had been labelled with Applejack’s name in an exuberant, familiar cursive script. Applejack raised an eyebrow as she tore open the letter.
Dear Applejack,
I was going to send you a “Happy One-Year Anniversary of Giving Bloomberg a Great New Home!” card but then I thought maybe it isn’t that happy. I mean, you probably miss Bloomberg a whole lot, even though I bet Bloomberg’s super happy in his new home with Braeburn and Little Strongheart and all his other new friends, and it’s not very happy when you miss your friends.
Can something be kind of happy and kind of sad at the same time? Like when your belly’s full of delicious cupcakes but your mouth is empty because you already ate all the cupcakes? Maybe it’s like that.
Oh, but anyways! It’s been a whole entire year since we took Bloomberg to his new home, and so I thought we should remember that! I wanted to throw a party for Bloomberg, but Dashie said that was crazy and that apple trees don’t like parties.
What do you think, AJ? Do apple trees like parties? I bet if anypony knows, that pony’s you!
Talk to you soon, Your Friend Pinkie Pie
Applejack stood with her letter for a few moments. She stood, and she pondered over this very crazy little letter written by a very crazy little pony. And then, finally, for the first time all day, Applejack smiled.
Very carefully, she carefully tucked the letter underneath her hat. Then she started trotting down the road towards town. She didn’t think she could stop herself even if she wanted to, but then, she wasn’t at all sure that she wanted to stop. So she gave a tiny little shrug and let her hooves continue on, carrying her through Ponyville, while she smiled and waved to the town’s ponies along the way. In no time at all she found herself in front of the architectural marvel that was Sugarcube Corner, staring at the front door and wondering just what exactly she was going to say when she stepped inside.
That little problem was solved for her, however, as suddenly the door swung open and a pair of pink hooves plucked her from the stoop.
“Applejack! Hi! Didja get my note?” Pinkie's eyes were huge as pie plates and stared into Applejack's face with unnerving intensity. “Do you know about whether apple trees like parties? ‘Cause I really, really hope apple trees like parties!”
Applejack gently shoved the other mare back a few feet before reaching up to readjust her hat. She glanced around the large, colorful bakery, mostly just to get her bearings, and gave a friendly nod to Mr. Cake when she spotted him behind the counter. Mr. Cake smiled back and--unless Applejack was imagining it and she didn’t think she was--there was a distinct hint of amusement in the stallion’s eyes.
The air was a little too hot. It always was in Sugarcube Corner. But Applejack shook that off just like she shook off the dirt from her hooves.
Finally facing Pinkie, Applejack answered, “Yep, sugarcube, I sure did get your note. Was sweet of ya to remember about Bloomberg.”
Pinkie beamed. “Well, of course I remembered! I mean, it’s Bloomberg . Who doesn’t love Bloomberg? ”
“Heh. Woodpeckers, maybe.” Applejack grinned back at her friend. “And to answer your last question from before … well, I ain’t entirely sure, I'll admit, but I don’t see why apple trees wouldn’t like parties. Especially a genuine Pinkie Pie party. Ain’t nobody who doesn’t like one o’ those.”
“Perfect! Then we’ll go to Appleloosa this weekend to throw a party for Bloomberg!”
Applejack stopped grinning. “Beg pardon?”
“To Appleloosa. This weekend.” Pinkie raised an eyebrow. “To throw a party for--”
“For Bloomberg,” Applejack interrupted, nodding briskly. “Right, right. I followed all of that just fine, Pinkie. It’s the part where you think I can just up and leave the farm to go on a trip to Appleloosa that’s got me a mite confused.”
Pinkie tilted her head. “Well, why not? Isn’t it the slow season right now down at Sweet Apple Acres?”
Applejack frowned. That was just plain dirty fighting on the part of the other mare, bringing up a fact like that, something Applejack couldn't refute without telling a big, bald lie.
“Might be the slow season,” Applejack admitted with a grumble. “How d'you even know about that, though?”
The other mare laughed. “I grew up on a rock farm, Applejack! Remember? I know all sorts of stuff about farming!”
“Sure, like you knew how to fix the water chu--”
Applejack cut herself off, but it was too late. Suddenly the bakery was deathly quiet, quiet enough that she could hear Mr. Cake suck in his breath through his teeth. Meanwhile, Pinkie was still smiling at her, just like always, but it wasn't the same. The pink mare's eyes looked dark and watery, like the surface of a lake that had monsters churning the depths far below, and silently Applejack swore at herself.
She'd come down into town to thank Pinkie for doing something nice for her. To maybe do something nice for Pinkie in return. And this was how she repaid her friend?
“Pinkie Pie, I'm right sorry. I didn't mean to--”
“It's okay, AJ!” Pinkie chirped. “We don't gotta go to Appleloosa this weekend. We can throw a party for Bloomberg another time.”
The words were cheerful enough, and Applejack didn’t think Pinkie was lying, per se. But there was a difference between something being true and something not being a lie. Still those blue eyes looked stormy, and still that grin didn’t fit quite right on Pinkie’s face.
Applejack took a deep breath and set her jaw. “Look. I ain't promising nothing here, but ...”
Pinkie leaned back a bit and blinked at her.
“But I'll think on it. Okay?”
Pinkie kept on blinking for a few seconds longer, before her grin widened and her eyes lit up like fireworks. “Okie dokie lokie!”
Before she could manage to shove her hoof in her mouth yet again, Applejack quickly said her goodbyes and left for the farm. It took longer to get back to Sweet Apple Acres than it had to get to Sugarcube Corner, but then, it always did. Applejack loved Pinkie Pie to death, but nopony could tire out Applejack quite like that pink filly could, except maybe Apple Bloom on one of her more ornery days. Still, she was glad she’d taken the time to go down to visit Pinkie. And even a simple farm pony like herself could appreciate the way the sun setting over the distant hills painted the whole entire sky with warm, friendly oranges and bright, cheerful pinks.
As she arrived at the farmhouse and stepped inside, greeted by the smell of something savory on the stove and the sound of laughter coming from the kitchen, Applejack paused in the doorway. She reached up to take off her hat and pull out the pink envelope she'd kept safely nestled against her mane.
Rereading Pinkie's letter, she smiled all over again.
In the car of a train rattling down the lonesome tracks of the wide desert plains, Applejack sat across from Pinkie Pie and shifted uncomfortably on the hard wooden bench. Pinkie Pie bounced a bit on her own bench and smiled broadly at Applejack. The rest of the car was empty except for a loudly snoring Apple Bloom, asleep on the bench beside Applejack, and the silence stretching out between the two older earth ponies seemed as long as the train tracks ahead. Applejack reached up to readjust her hat, just to give herself something to do with her hooves.
It wasn’t often that it was just her and Pinkie, all alone. It was strange, and worse, it was strange that it was strange. Applejack’s chest felt a little tight, a little tense, and she couldn’t understand why. She didn’t feel like this when it was just her and Rainbow Dash, or her and Twilight, or even her and Rarity. She knew how to act with those three--it was easy enough, after all, as she just had to laugh at Dash and to nod at Twilight and to baby Rarity--whereas right now she wasn’t quite sure what she was supposed to say or do with Pinkie. Pinkie was just so wild, so unpredictable. So utterly unlike the routines and traditions that governed Applejack’s life and that fit the apple farmer as snug and comfortable as an old, worn-in Stetson.
Abruptly, Applejack realized that finding herself all alone with Pinkie wasn’t the only thing that was strange, and she frowned. “You’re bein’ awful quiet over there. Something wrong, sugarcube?”
Pinkie Pie quickly shook her head. “Nuh uh! Everything’s okie dokie.” With a soft giggle, Pinkie leaned forward to add, in a stage whisper, “Twilight said I should try not to annoy you too much, ‘cause sometimes I talk a lot and maybe you wouldn’t want to talk the whole trip out to Appleloosa ‘cause it’s a really long trip.”
“Twilight said all that, did she?”
“Uh huh!”
Applejack’s frown deepened. “Well, I reckon Twi meant well, but truth is I don’t mind a bit of chit-chat to pass the time.” She leaned back and, studying Pinkie’s bright expression and happy eyes, she coughed to clear her throat. “So, uh, I guess let’s talk? First thing I oughta say, I reckon, is an apology. Sorry about my baby sister taggin' along and all.”
“Oh, that's nothing to be sorry about!” Grinning, Pinkie reached down and gently patted Apple Bloom on the head. The filly snorted and mumbled something in her sleep. “Apple Bloom's a great little pony, and more ponies means more fun.”
Applejack chuckled. “I reckon that's all true.” She gazed down at her sister with a fond smile. “It's just that I promised her, next time I went out to visit Cousin Braeburn, I'd take her with me. Sneaky little devil made me Pinkie promise, even, and y'know better than anypony that--”
“Nopony breaks a Pinkie promise,” finished Pinkie, nodding slowly and seriously.
“Right. Exactly.”
The silence fell over them again, like a heavy blanket, and Applejack turned to look out the window of the train car. Nighttime in the desert wasn't like nighttime in Ponyville. There weren't any street lights or lamps in houses to break through the darkness. The nearly full moon above lent some visibility, though, enough for Applejack to spot a few cacti and rock formations breaking up the monotony of the desert.
It wasn’t much to look at and so, after a few minutes, Applejack glanced back over toward Pinkie Pie. Pinkie was still bouncing in her seat a bit, as well as quietly drumming her hooves against the bench. The poor mare had never looked so bored in all the years Applejack had known her.
Applejack licked her lips. Already the parched desert air had her skin feeling as dry as parchment paper. “Say, Pinkie. You wanna trade parts for the play next year?”
With a start, Pinkie looked up.
“The Hearth’s Warming play,” Applejack explained, feeling her face warm. She didn’t know why she’d asked about that. It was just the first topic of conversation that had popped into her head, and she’d latched onto it like a rattler on a mouse. “You could play Smart Cookie instead of the Chancellor next time, if’n you’d like a change.”
“Aw, don’t you like being Smart Cookie?” Pinkie reached forward to tap Applejack on the nose. “I think you make a super great Smart Cookie! I mean, you’re tons smarter than me, and you’re totally like a cookie, if cookies were more like ponies. Or maybe if ponies were more like cookies?”
“I ain’t saying you gotta swap with me, mind ya. I’m just saying--” Applejack shut up. Her ears gave a twitch. “Wait a minute. Go back. You think I’m smarter than you?”
Pinkie giggled again. “Well, yeah! Duh!”
Applejack thoughtfully chewed on her lower lip. She opened her mouth to respond but quickly closed it again when she realized she didn’t know what to say.
“I mean, don’t you think you’re smarter, Applejack?” asked Pinkie. It almost hurt for Applejack to hear the note of genuine curiosity in the other mare’s voice.
“No! No, ‘course I don’t think I’m smarter.”
“Really?”
“Pinkie Pie,” said Applejack, with a stern glare, “in all the years we’ve been friends, you ever know me to say something I don’t mean? To say something that I know ain’t true? Not countin’ all that Discord nonsense.”
Pinkie shook her head.
“Well, then. There’s your answer.” Applejack leaned back with a quiet sigh. Her shoulders sagged as though under a yoke. “You don’t always listen too good, sometimes, I’ll be the first to admit. But you catch onto stuff quick as a whip if you’re actually paying attention proper.”
Slowly Pinkie Pie smiled. It was a soft smile, smaller yet somehow brighter than her usual ones. Applejack felt funny, seeing Pinkie smile at her like that. She wondered if Pinkie was just tired. It’d been a long day of traveling. Or maybe it was Applejack who was tired, too tired to be thinking straight, so tired that she was seeing things that weren’t really there.
Applejack gave her head a shake, trying to knock all of those funny little thoughts out of her head. “It’s gettin’ late, sugarcube. I reckon we oughta take ‘Bloom and go back to the--”
But Applejack got no farther than that, as suddenly the door to the train car burst open with a bang, and in the doorway appeared two stallions and a mare. Even before the newcomers had a chance to step inside, Applejack was up on her hooves, head held low, adrenaline coursing through her blood. All three ponies had bandanas wrapped around their muzzles, obscuring their faces, and Applejack felt her stomach drop as she realized just what was going on.
One of the stallions, a unicorn, took a step forward. In a light orange glow of magic he held a knife, and from behind his bandana there came a dark, nasty laugh.
“G’evening, ladies! This here’s a stick-up!”
Author's Note
So far, this is shaping up to be the least shippy ship fic I've ever written, but I guess we'll see. Mostly, this story's going to be a character study of Applejack and an experiment to see if I can write an action-oriented western of sorts, as I don't really write many action-adventure stories.
The first half of this chapter, by the way, is adapted from a story I wrote for the Thirty Minute Pony Stories writing prompt "It only takes a moment to fall in love" (http://thirtyminuteponies.tumblr.com/post/42932926877/prompt-257-compilation-little-fleeting-wonders ).
Edit 9/3: The original title for this story was "Drought," but as I've written more and more, I've liked this title less and less. The current title is a reference to the film They Shoot Horses, Don't They?/ .
They Shoot Ponies, Don't They?
Chapter 2
For a second, nopony moved and nopony spoke. It almost seemed as though nopony dared breathe. Then Applejack took a small step to her left, carefully positioning herself between the three masked ponies and Pinkie Pie and her sister. All of a sudden the train car, which had felt warm and cozy when they’d left Ponyville, became tight and cramped and cold as death.
“Listen, mister,” Applejack began in a quiet, calm tone, “we don’t want no trouble.”
The orange-maned unicorn laughed again. “Glad to hear it, little missy. Neither do we. Just hand over yer bits, and we’ll get outta yer manes.”
Applejack’s eyes flicked over to Pinkie. Pinkie was standing now, too, and nudging a groggy but conscious Apple Bloom up onto her back. Applejack raised an eyebrow, just a fraction of an inch, and in reply Pinkie Pie gave a tiny, nearly imperceptible nod. Taking a deep breath, Applejack turned her attention back toward the robbers. The muscles in her hindlegs tensed up, eager and ready, and the fur along her nape bristled.
The lead stallion took another step forward, his eyebrows furrowed beneath his Stetson. “Hey, now. If you’re even thinkin’ of trying anything funny …”
Out of the corner of her eye Applejack saw a flash of pink, as Pinkie suddenly bolted for the door behind them, and Applejack took that as her cue and launched herself forward. The unicorn let out a yelp and slashed with his knife, catching the farm mare across the shoulder, but Applejack’s weight and momentum smashed into the stallion like a wrecking ball. The orange magical glow disappeared as he collapsed with a groan, and his knife went skittering across the rough wood floors of the car.
One down, two to go.
The masked mare dashed by, a blur of turquoise as she spread her wings and took to the air. Applejack struggled to get back up on her hooves, wincing the moment she put weight on the shoulder that’d been sliced open. Just as she was about to attempt a flying tackle, a pair of burly yellow forelegs grabbed her from behind. The third robber. Applejack sucked in her breath as the other stallion’s hoof dug deep into her bleeding shoulder, and she almost lost her footing from the sudden flood of pain.
With a low growl, Applejack ducked her head and bit down into the pony’s foreleg as hard as she could. He howled and he cursed, but he didn’t let go. His grip loosened, though, just a bit, just enough--enough for her to squirm out of his hold. Whipping around, leaning forward with a pained grunt, Applejack lifted her hindlegs.
“What in the--”
A sharp, swift kick sent the stallion flying through the air. He smacked into the far wall of the train car with a satisfying crack before his body slumped to the floor like a sack of dropped flour. By now, the first stallion was shakily standing back up. Applejack frowned and, coiling the muscles in her rear legs, sent the stallion sprawling to the floor once again. From the benches she fetched her saddlebags and took out a length of strong, solid rope. Working quickly, she tied up both the stallions, good and tight, before they could even think of getting a second wind.
Two down, one to go.
Gritting her teeth, Applejack went limping off toward the other end of the car, where the door hung wide open. Every step sent burning pain shooting down her entire leg, but Applejack didn’t have time for pain. Not now. Once outside, she reached with her good foreleg to open the door to the next car then frowned. She tried again and frowned even harder. The door to the next train car was locked.
“Now I’ve gotcha, ya little rattlesnake!”
That was the pegasus. Had to be. The voice sounded as though it had come from above and, glancing up, Applejack spotted a ladder on the side of the train car. She jumped onto the ladder and began awkwardly hoisting herself up, pulling with her good foreleg and pushing with her rear legs. On top of the car, where the wind whipped through her mane as the train hurtled down the tracks, she spotted the last of the robbers.
The pegasus was just a few yards away, her wings flared wide as she skulked forward. Just one car past the mare stood Apple Bloom, hunkering down, her belly almost flush against the top of the train’s caboose. Pinkie was nowhere to be seen, and Applejack swore under her breath.
The farmer broke into a run, stumbling a bit as the pain in her shoulder sent tremors all up and down her leg, but the pegasus proved too far away. A sickly sour pit formed deep down in Applejack’s stomach as she realized she’d never reach Apple Bloom before the robber did.
But then, just as the pegasus reached the edge of the train car connected to the caboose, Apple Bloom grinned. It was a grin that Applejack had seen plenty of times over the years, a sneaky little grin that always heralded some bit of Cutie Mark Crusaders mischief.
“Surprise!”
Confetti exploded out of nowhere, a blizzard of disorienting colors against the inky black of the surrounding night, and the pegasus mare reared back with a startled whinny. Pinkie popped up from between the two train cars, wearing a grin every inch as sneaky as the one Apple Bloom wore. She stepped onto the edge of the train car with her legs splayed out and her head held low, as if she were a bull getting ready to charge. There was a fire in those blue eyes that belied the grin on her lips, and the pegasus took a step back.
That hesitation and confusion was all the chance Applejack needed. She crossed the remaining distance in just a few long strides, and she head-butted the back of the pegasus as hard as she could. With a screech, the pegasus tumbled head over hooves--and, knocked off balance, she went rolling right off the top of the train.
A moment later, Applejack saw the pegasus airborne behind them, flying after the train with her forelegs straining forward. But a single pegasus was no match for a train fueled by coal and steam. Applejack watched with a flicker of spiteful glee as the pegasus grew smaller and smaller, just a tiny turquoise dot silhouetted against the moon, until finally the pegasus was swallowed up completely into the darkness.
“Sis ... you’re hurt!”
Applejack glanced down. Apple Bloom was staring up at her with an intense frown on her little face and a look in her eyes almost like anger.
The older mare chuckled and shook her head. “It’s just a little scratch, ‘Bloom. We’ll get it all bandaged up, and I’ll be good as new in two shakes of a Timberwolf’s tail.”
And she would. That was no lie. It’d take a lot more than a few no-good train robbers to do in an Apple. Still, now that the fight was won and the adrenaline was beginning to drain from her system, she had to admit she was feeling a bit weaker than before. A little bit less sure on her feet.
And now that she was thinking about it, the world had started looking kind of off-kilter. Sort of like everything was at an angle. She didn’t think that was quite right. Wasn’t quite how things ought to be.
“Applejack?”
The last thing Applejack saw before she passed out cold was pink, an almost painfully bright pink that cut through the night like a cotton candy beacon.
Her mouth tasted like something had crawled inside and died.
Applejack grimaced and smacked her lips, but she couldn’t get that taste out of her mouth. Had she been out drinking the hard stuff with Big Mac again? She couldn’t remember. With a shaky groan, she pried open her eyes and blinked against the sudden, blinding brightness all around her.
“Applejack! Golly, cuz, it’s sure good to see you awake!”
Applejack squinted. Braeburn? Why on earth was Braeburn in her bedroom? Still blinking, she turned her head to take a look around--and immediately winced as pain shot through her shoulder and straight down her leg.
“Whoa there, now.” Braeburn gently took her head between his hooves and held it in place. “Best not go makin’ any sudden movements. You’re pretty banged up.”
The light wasn’t as blinding now. As her eyes adjusted, Applejack saw that she wasn’t in her bedroom. The walls were plain, unpainted wood, just like at Sweet Apple Acres, but other than that, it looked nothing like home. Daylight streamed in mercilessly through a window on the side. Across from the bed where she laid stood a table, full of tongue depressors and rolls of gauze and other medical supplies. The air hung stale and stagnant in the room, and it carried an almost overpowering stench of death and antiseptic.
Applejack grimaced as she realized where she was and, just like that, it all came back to her. The robbers, the train, the trip to see Bloomberg.
“I can’t believe it,” she muttered in a voice thick with sleep. “Can’t believe I went and fainted from a little tiny bit of blood. Celestia help me, if Rainbow Dash ever finds out, I won’t never hear the end of it.”
Braeburn chuckled a bit as he leaned back. “Well, the way ‘Bloom and Miss Pinkie tell it, it was more than just a little tiny bit you lost.”
Applejack frowned. “Where’d those two troublemakers get off to, anyhow?”
With a grin, Braeburn turned and nodded to a corner of the room. Slowly, carefully, Applejack lifted her head to see just where her cousin was gesturing. Across the room stood a wooden chair, and in that wooden chair laid a pink earth pony, curled up in a ball just like Winona in her bed, with a little yellow filly sprawled out atop her. It was peaceful yet odd, seeing both of those energetic ponies so calm and motionless for a change.
“They stayed up all night watching ya,” Braeburn explained, “waiting for ya to wake up. Reckon it finally tuckered ‘em out.”
Applejack smiled as she watched the two ponies sleep. “Didn’t mean to give y’all a scare. Sorry about that.”
“Just glad you’re gonna be all right.” Braeburn sighed, drawing Applejack’s attention away from the slumbering pair. “To tell the truth, I reckon I’m the one owing apologies here. I’m … I’m awful sorry about what happened on the train.”
“Aw, heck. Ain’t nothing for you to be sorry for, Brae.”
Braeburn took off his hat and twisted it nervously between his forehooves. “This ain’t exactly the first time there’s been trouble with ponies robbin’ the trains.”
Applejack stayed quiet. She lay there, with her head aching and her shoulder throbbing, and she rolled that bit of information around in her head. Then she looked Braeburn straight in the eyes and nodded for him to continue.
“Applejack, I don’t know how to tell you this, but … but there’s been a drought. Worst drought I’ve ever seen in all my years.” He looked away and swallowed hard enough that Applejack could see his Adam’s apple bob up and down. “Trees’ve been dying. Ponies’ve been worried. A whole bunch of no-good varmints like the ones on that train have been swarming all ‘round Appleloosa, just like a gaggle of vultures.”
“That’s …” Applejack wasn’t sure just what to say. She worked her jaw for a moment or two, trying to think of something adequate. “That’s awful, Braeburn, and I’m real sorry to hear it. I don’t see how it’s your fault, though.”
Braeburn’s cheeks went pink. “I’m the mayor now, cuz. We held us some elections a while back, and the townsfolk voted me in.”
“Mayor Braeburn? Really? Well, I’ll be a griffon’s auntie!”
“Took Sheriff Silverstar a bit of gettin’ used to, I think, but eventually he came ‘round.” With a sigh, he put his hat back atop his head. “So it’s my fault, y’see. Mayor’s in charge of a town, in charge of what happens. In charge of what goes wrong, too.”
Slowly Applejack nodded. She wasn’t mayor of anything, not even Sweet Apple Acres, but she understood. The Apple clan didn’t let down its friends or its family, and for Braeburn, Appleloosa was both.
“Don’t mean to dump all my problems on ya,” Braeburn said, suddenly all smiles again. He patted her on the foreleg and stood up. “I’ll let you get a bit more rest. Old Doc Sawbones oughta be back soon to check on ya.”
Applejack watched, with thoughtful eyes, as her cousin walked to the door. Her brain still felt a bit sluggish, but the cogs were definitely turning. She chewed her lower lip for a moment, deliberating, and then took a breath.
“Braeburn.”
The stallion paused in the doorway, glancing over his shoulder. “Yes, cuz?”
“I wanna take a look at them orchards o’ yours.”
Under the oppressive heat of the desert sun, still bright and punishing even as it slowly sank below the horizon, Applejack walked down the long rows of apple trees in the Appleloosan orchard with Braeburn to her right and Pinkie to her left. Meanwhile, Apple Bloom trotted along directly in front of her, glancing over her shoulder at the older pony every few seconds. The entire trek out to the orchards, Apple Bloom hadn’t let Applejack get more than two steps away. It was a bit annoying, but Applejack couldn’t really fault her sister for the overprotectiveness. She knew she’d given the little filly a pretty awful scare.
To the other side of Braeburn walked Little Strongheart. The young buffalo gazed out over the rows and rows of dying trees with eyes every inch as sad as Braeburn’s own.
It proved slow going, as Applejack couldn’t manage much more than a leisurely stroll, limping along with her entire left shoulder bandaged up good and tight. Without comment, the others adjusted their pace to match hers, and Applejack felt embarrassment war with gratitude within her chest. She did her best to ignore it, focusing instead on the trees. Apples, brown and rotten, littered the ground. The leaves on the trees looked yellow, like old parchment paper, and they hung loose on the branches as though the slightest breeze would blow them away.
“Y’all can see the problem,” began Braeburn, kicking at the ground and producing a large cloud of dust. “Soil’s dry as a bone. Ain’t been a drop of rain in weeks.”
Suddenly Pinkie threw a foreleg in the air, like a school filly answering the teacher. “Hey, I’ve got an idea!”
Braeburn’s ears went flat against his head. “It … it ain’t another song, is it, Miss Pinkie?”
Little Strongheart giggled.
“Nope! It’s even better than a song!” Pinkie grinned. “Pegasus ponies!”
“Pegasus ponies?”
“Pegasus ponies,” Pinkie confirmed, her head bobbing up and down in an enthusiastic nod. “You need rain, right? Well, pegasuses make the clouds that make the rain!”
Braeburn bit his lip. “We already tried. Brought in a special team all the way from Los Pegasus, even.” He slowly shook his head. Applejack had never seen him look so tired. “Turns out clouds can’t make it that far. They break up and disappear before they’re even halfway over the mountains.”
Pinkie’s grin vanished. “Oh.”
Applejack stopped walking. Leaning over, she gave a friendly nudge to Pinkie’s shoulder with her snout. “Tweren’t a bad idea, sugarcube. Was good of you to offer it up.” Thoughtfully she frowned, gazing out at the surrounding plains and distant foothills with an appraising eye. “Say, you got any water reserves anywhere? Lakes, streams, rivers, anything like that?”
At that, Little Strongheart immediately glanced over at Braeburn. The stallion, in turn, just stared down at his hooves as he continued kicking at the dirt.
“Braeburn,” said Applejack, trying and failing to keep irritation from leaking into her voice, “you ain’t been able to hide nothing from me ever since we was tiny sprouts. So c’mon, now. Just spit it out.”
Braeburn snorted softly. “It’s too darn dangerous!”
Little Strongheart lifted her chin. When she spoke, her words were calm, but there was steel in her voice. “Sheriff Silverstar does not believe so.”
“Maybe not, but you can’t tell me that Chief Thunderhooves thinks it’s all fine and dandy.”
Turning around, her brow furrowed, Apple Bloom asked, “What’s too dangerous?”
Braeburn sighed, long and deep, and it seemed as though his entire body sagged a bit as the breath left his lungs. “The town and the local tribe have been talkin’ about finding a way to bring water down from the Macintosh Hills over yonder.” He nodded toward the foothills visible on the horizon. “A while back, we sent up a few ponies and buffalo to go scoutin’ for water. They ran into trouble. Bandits are all up and down them hills, just like along the train tracks. Never know when you’ll run into ‘em.”
Little Strongheart lowered her head, and her eyes fluttered shut. Braeburn leaned against her, strong and sturdy as the healthiest apple tree in Equestria, and the stallion offered her a gentle nuzzle.
“Running Wind and Sagebrush,” added the buffalo, so quietly Applejack almost couldn’t hear. “That evening, they … they almost did not return to us.”
By then, the little group had reached the edge of the orchard. Fewer trees lived out here, trees that had been planted more recently. On a little mound, some small distance from the main rows, stood a solitary apple tree. Its trunk reached up towards the sky, broad and straight as a royal guard, but the tree held not a single apple in its branches. A good half or more of its leaves were gone, and the remaining half looked as dry and brown as the desert sands all around them.
No one spoke.
Applejack continued forward, wincing as every step sent a fresh jolt of pain through her shoulder, and she laid a tender hoof upon the trunk of the poor tree. Maybe it was just her sun-poisoned brain playing tricks on her, but she could swear she could feel the tree’s life pulse beneath her hoof, feeble and frail. Seeing this tree--her tree--in such a pitiful state, a withered ghost of what it once had been, hurt far worse than any knife ever could.
“Sis? Sis, are you okay?”
Slowly turning back around, Applejack was confronted with the sad eyes and concerned faces of her friends and family. Apple Bloom looked like she was set to burst into tears at any moment, while Pinkie’s ears had drooped down low.
She didn’t like seeing her loved ones looking like that. All beaten-down and worn out, like nothing had ever gone right and nothing ever would go right. She hated knowing that she was responsible, even just partly, for putting those hangdog expressions on all their faces, too. She hated that every bit as much as she hated seeing Bloomberg so sick and frail and fading away like the light of a setting sun.
So Applejack set her jaw, and Applejack replied, her voice loud and sure, “I’m fine, Apple Bloom. Everything’s gonna be fine.”
They Shoot Ponies, Don't They?
Chapter 3
“Pinkie Pie?” Applejack’s words were whispered yet sounded too loud by far in the still darkness. “You asleep over there, hon?”
“No. Are you asleep?”
On her side of the tiny guest bedroom in Braeburn’s house, Applejack sighed. She’d hoped that she was the only one still awake. Partly she just wanted to make sure her sister and her friend finally received some proper shut-eye after recent events, but mostly she wanted some time to think and to plan--and, after that, time to execute all of those thoughts and plans. She had promised that everything would be okay. Sure, she hadn’t said those words exactly, but she hadn’t needed to say them. Promises weren’t made with words, anyway. Not the important ones.
She’d promised that everything would be okay, that she’d save Appleloosa’s apple trees--that she’d save Bloomberg--and she’d keep her promise. There wasn’t any doubt about that.
All she needed was for Pinkie Pie to finally fall asleep.
Careful to keep her voice quiet, Applejack replied, “Nah, Pinkie, I ain’t been able to sleep, either. Too much time stuck in bed back at the hospital, I reckon.” Beside her in the narrow bed, Apple Bloom shifted and groaned in her sleep. Applejack began petting the filly’s mane with a gentle hoof, and Apple Bloom quickly settled back down. “So what’s keepin’ you up, sugarcube?”
There was a pause, and Applejack’s stomach sank. Pinkie Pie didn’t pause before answering a question. Not usually, anyway.
“I’m really, super sorry, Applejack.”
“Sorry? Sorry for what?”
“For … well, for everything! I’m the one who said we should throw a party for Bloomberg, and I’m the one who asked you to come out to Appleloosa, and I’m the one who--”
“Shh! You’re gonna wake up ‘Bloom.”
Instantly Pinkie shut up. Applejack glanced down at her sister, who rolled over but otherwise didn’t stir. She let out a silent sigh of relief.
“Now, Pinkie,” she whispered. “None of that’s anything to be sorry for. I’m glad ya asked me to come out here. Ain’t your fault that there’s a bit of trouble going on, and it’s better knowin’ about problems than not knowin’.”
“You really think so?”
Applejack frowned. It seemed self-evident enough to her, but then again, it was usually a mistake to assume things when it came to Pinkie Pie. For good or for bad, Pinkie defied almost all the assumptions one could make about a pony.
“Yeah, I do.” Applejack turned her head to look over towards the cot set up on the opposite side of the cramped room. Pinkie’s eyes, shining bright as the moon outside, were all Applejack could see clearly through the dark. “First step to fixin’ a problem is knowin’ just what it is you gotta fix. Right?”
Pinkie giggled softly. “Sure! Y’know, AJ, you’re really good at fixing problems.”
“Probably because you and the other girls are so good at makin’ problems,” said Applejack, chuckling in return.
After a bit more giggling, Pinkie Pie fell silent, and so did Applejack. The farm mare turned her head to stare up at the low ceiling. The gaps between the wooden planks were just barely visible. She almost wished she couldn’t see the wood, as the nearness of the ceiling made the room feel even smaller than it was and set her hooves itching to bolt for the door. Giving her head a little shake, she went back to thinking over her plans. The train back to Ponyville was scheduled to leave tomorrow afternoon, and Braeburn was an early riser, just like all Apples were--which meant it had to be tonight.
Over dinner, Little Strongheart had explained that the buffalo and Appleloosan team who’d been sent up into the Macintosh Hills had gotten reasonably far along before they’d been ambushed. They’d brought a wagon full of empty barrels with them, and they’d managed to find a waterfall where they could fill up those barrels with relative ease. That roving gang of no-good thieves had shown up before the scouting team could unload and fill a single barrel, unfortunately, but the team had written it all down. Where the river was, where the waterfall was, where the wagon was.
All written down, nice and neat and clear as a bell. Applejack knew because she’d seen the map with her own two eyes. And she also knew that, right this very moment, that same map sat downstairs on her cousin’s kitchen table.
Slowly and silently, Applejack drew back her foreleg from around Apple Bloom before slipping out of bed. She grabbed her hat from the bedpost and began tiptoeing cautiously across the room, taking a zigzag path that avoided all of the loose floorboards she remembered from previous visits to her cousin. She’d just reached the door when she heard a soft creak come from the direction of the cot.
“Hey, AJ?”
Applejack froze.
“AJ, are you still awake?”
The farmer held her breath. She wondered if she could convince Pinkie she was asleep if she simply stayed quiet and still. She didn’t enjoy lying, even lies of omission, but speaking up would tip off Pinkie to what she was planning to do. And the very thought of Pinkie--or, heaven forbid, of Apple Bloom--trying to tag along on this little trip sent an icy jolt of fear straight through the middle of Applejack’s chest.
No. It was too dangerous, by far. Applejack would let them sleep, safe and sound under Braeburn’s roof, and she’d return before the dawn. They’d never have to know a thing until the deed was past and done.
“I guess you’re sleeping,” continued Pinkie, with a disappointed little sigh. “That’s okay. You had a really long, hard day--well, actually, you slept for a lot of the morning, but that’s only ‘cause you got hurt on the train. Which isn’t my fault, ‘cause you said it wasn’t, and you wouldn’t tell me it wasn’t unless it wasn’t. But I still feel bad, kinda.”
At that, guilt started churning in Applejack’s belly, thick and toxic as sludge. If Applejack hadn’t known better, she would have sworn Pinkie was doing it on purpose.
“I just wanted to make you happy. You’ve looked super, duper sad the last few days. I don’t like it when you look so sad.” Pinkie paused a moment and, when she spoke again, her voice had perked up considerably. “Oh, well! Guess it’s like Granny Pie always told me. If at first you don’t succeed, Pinkie, don’t cry over spilled milk!”
Applejack swallowed a laugh. Her hoof, still resting lightly upon the doorknob, gave the tiniest of twitches.
From across the room, Pinkie let out a stifled yawn. “This was a really good talk, AJ! We should--” Another yawn, longer and louder. “We should totally talk like this again more. I really like … talking to … you ...”
Applejack waited there in the dark, facing the gray wooden planks of the bedroom door and staring at the grooves in the wood. She had to clench her teeth together to keep from speaking out, from confessing she was still awake, from the sudden and ridiculous urge to ask Pinkie just what she’d like to talk about. But she hadn’t come this far just to fail, and so she kept her peace. Not until she heard the unmistakable sound of Pinkie’s snores joining Apple Bloom’s did she finally open the door and sneak downstairs.
High up in the Macintosh Hills, covered in shadows and not much else, the wind bit down to the bones with its chill. Applejack shivered as she slowly made the climb up the barren, craggy sides of the hills. She wasn’t much for clothing, by and large--clothes felt strange against her body, almost smothering--but right at the moment, she’d give her very best length of rope for just one of Rarity’s fancy scarves or frou-frou cloaks. Still, the wind was an inconvenience and an irritant. That was all. It would take a lot more than a bit of an evening chill to stop Applejack.
Suddenly she lost her footing and, wincing, slid down the cliff a few yards before she managed to halt her fall. Hot, screaming pain shot through her entire left foreleg like lightning, and she had to kneel down for a moment or two to catch her breath. She stared down at the hard, unforgiving gravel that sat beneath her shaking legs. Sweat trickled down her neck, causing her to shiver even harder than before.
“Oh, no,” Applejack muttered, “there ain’t no way I’m freezin’ to death on some godforsaken mountain in the dead o’ night …”
Gritting her teeth against the pain, she pushed herself back up onto all four hooves. She locked her eyes on the ridge above her and staggered forward once again.
Over a half hour later, after a few more falls and a lot more jaw clenching, Applejack pulled herself over the lip of the ridge. As soon as she was on level ground, she collapsed. Her shoulder burned, her lungs ached, and her eyes stung from the sweat pouring down her face--and she didn’t care in the least. Because right before her eyes, less than ten yards away, a small waterfall shimmered and glowed like liquid silver under the light of the moon. It stood in relief, strangely throne-like, against the gray and dusty boulders surrounding it on both sides.
Applejack grinned. Finally. She took a deep breath and, bracing herself, slowly stood. Reaching back into her saddlebags, she took out the map she’d borrowed from Braeburn. The wagon with the empty barrels couldn’t be too terribly far away. Pulling the wagon all by herself was sure to be an adventure in and of itself, she well knew, but that was a bridge she’d cross when she came to it. First things first.
Her ears flicked at the sudden sound of hoof crunching against stone, and her breath caught in her throat. She glanced up from the map and immediately found herself confronted with the gleam of white teeth and white eyes through the dark.
“Well, well, well.” The other pony chuckled, a deep rattle yet deathly quiet. “Lookie what we got here.”
The pegasus mare from the train. She’d only heard that voice once before, but she knew it was the same pony. She never forgot anyone who ever threatened her kin. And she made very sure that no one who threatened her kin ever forgot her .
The map dropped to the ground with a soft thud.
“I bucked you off a speedin’ train, varmint,” spat Applejack. “Don’t think I can’t buck you off a mountain.”
“You got in a lucky sucker punch. That’s all.” The other mare took a step forward into the moonlight, lifted a hoof to her mouth, and whistled. “Besides, tonight the odds are a little more even. Ain’t no crazy pink ponies ‘round to save ya now.”
From the depths of the shadows slithered three more ponies, each bigger and uglier than the last, all of them wearing big, ugly grins on their big, ugly muzzles. Applejack swallowed hard. Her heart hammered against her ribs, painfully fast, and her lungs still grasped desperately for air. To top it all off, her shoulder still burned like fire at the slightest twitch of her muscles, and it had been a long, long time since Applejack could remember feeling quite so worn out and used up.
But a nap wasn’t on the agenda. As one, the bandits attacked, rushing towards her like a tidal wave, and Applejack hurled herself forward in turn. She managed to make it about three steps before her leg folded. Tumbling to the ground, Applejack rolled end over end until she came to rest flat on her back.
The pegasus was there in a flash, looming over her with those white eyes and white teeth. Applejack lashed out with her rear legs and felt a tiny thrill of victory as they connected with soft fur and flesh. A loud, masculine groan confirmed that her aim had proved true. But the pegasus mare remained standing. With a snarl Applejack threw her head forward, headbutting the pegasus right between the eyes. The resulting crack of skull hitting skull rattled through her teeth.
The other mare staggered back a step or two, but it wasn’t enough. Before Applejack could even get back up on her knees, the mare was on her again, slamming a hoof into her bandaged shoulder. A scream bubbled up from somewhere deep down in her gut, and everything was pain, hot and heavy and suffocating. Kicks and punches started raining down on her from all sides, punishing, relentless. Applejack struggled to kick out again with her legs, but she couldn’t say if her limbs were obeying any of her commands.
“Get off her!”
The voice came down like thunder--and just like that, the punching and kicking stopped. Applejack blinked in surprise.
Out of nowhere, a lasso came whizzing through the air and fell perfectly over the pegasus’ head. Then the rope snapped taut, and the pegasus was yanked from her perch atop Applejack’s chest. A second later, a shadowy blur charged into the fray and plowed into the remaining bandits.
Applejack couldn’t see much from her position on the ground, but her ears took it all in. The grunts and groans, the yelps and shouts, the thuds and slams. An occasional explosion and hearty, full-lunged cheer. Her heart beat wildly in her chest as she listened to the fight unfolding all around her, and once or twice she strained her neck forward, desperate to catch just a glimpse. Everypony had retreated to the shadows cast by the cliffs above, and all the silhouettes wrestling one another looked just the same.
Finally there came the sound of hooves thundering against the stone and the pegasus’ angry shout of “You ain’t seen the last of us!”
After that, all stood quiet. The sound of her own labored breathing echoed in Applejack’s ears.
“A-Applejack?”
Applejack sucked in air through her nose. “Apple Bloom?” she called out, disbelieving, her voice little more than a croak.
“Applejack!”
Something small yet powerful hit her like a freight train. For a second, the world exploded in blinding white light, and Applejack thought she might lose her dinner from sheer pain-induced nausea. But the moment quickly passed. Once it had, she found her baby sister sitting just inches away from her face, those familiar orange eyes huge and wet with tears that sparkled like diamonds under the moon.
The older mare frowned. “You ain’t … supposed to … be out here.”
“Whoa, there, ‘Bloom.” Braeburn suddenly appeared within Applejack’s field of vision and scooped up the filly, depositing her onto his own back. “Gotta take it easy there. She’s a real strong pony, your sis, but she ain’t unbreakable.”
Apple Bloom nodded but otherwise didn’t respond. Instead, she just stared down at Applejack with those large, fearful eyes.
For perhaps the first time in her life, Applejack wished she had a mirror. Just so she could know exactly what Apple Bloom was seeing. “How’d you … how’d you know I’d left and gone to ...”
Braeburn glanced over his shoulder--at what or who, Applejack couldn’t see. He retreated a few paces and, after a moment, a familiar pink pony stepped into view.
“Pinkie sense,” said Applejack. It wasn’t a question.
Pinkie Pie shrugged. She was smiling, but it was a tiny little thing, almost unworthy of being called a smile at all. “Kinda, sorta? Mostly, I just knew you’d wanna go find water so Bloomberg could get all better.”
“What in Equestria were you thinkin’ ?” Applejack paused to suck down some air, even though her throat burned like she’d been guzzling whiskey. “Or weren’t ya thinkin’ at all, dragging my baby sister into danger like this?”
“Well, what were you thinking, sneaking away like a super sneaky pony and getting into danger?” Pinkie lifted her nose in the air and folded her forelegs across the chest. She held that position for all of three seconds before her face dropped into a sad little frown. “Besides, you said I was smart! If I’m smart, shouldn’t you trust me? Or do you think Pinkie Pie’s really just one big silly filly?”
A bitter rebuke rose up from somewhere deep in Applejack’s chest. Of course Pinkie was smart. Applejack had meant what she said. Applejack always meant what she said. But the words never made it past her lips. Instead of telling off Pinkie, she simply laid there. She lay there shivering, with her back flat against the hard stone of the Macintosh Hills, and she listened to the quiet, steady drone of the waterfall nearby.
Pinkie Pie just kept on staring. The mare could be unnervingly patient, sometimes. When she wanted to be.
Applejack turned her head away. Slowly she rolled over onto her belly, grimacing as she did so, and even more slowly stood back up. She wobbled a bit on her hooves but managed not to take a tumble. Without a word Pinkie stepped up beside her, and Applejack took the silent offer and leaned against the other mare for balance. Try as she might, she couldn’t quite hold back a sigh as the pleasant heat from Pinkie’s fur seeped down into her cold, aching bones.
“I’m awful tired, and I reckon y’all are, too,” Applejack said finally. “Why don’t we go get those barrels filled up with water then head back to town?”
Braeburn shuffled his hooves a bit. He sighed and took off his hat. Then, with another sigh, longer and louder, he put his hat back on his head. Applejack braced herself for an argument, but when he spoke, all he said was, “All right, cuz. We better get started before them bandits we sent packin’ get a chance to regroup.”
As Braeburn trotted off toward the waterfall, Apple Bloom riding securely atop his back, Pinkie followed along at a slower pace. Applejack took up the rear, unable to manage much more than a slow, tottering shuffle. Before long, Braeburn and Apple Bloom were so far away that they were mere silhouettes along the rocks.
Applejack licked her dry, cracked lips. She tasted blood. “Pinkie Pie?”
There was a pause, short yet stinging, before Pinkie replied, “Yes, Applejack?”
“I just wanted to say thanks. For comin’ out to find me and all that.”
“Well, of course. You’re one of my bestest best friends, and friends don’t let friends get ambushed by mean robber ponies.” Pinkie glanced over her shoulder, her eyes the only part of her face truly visible in the blackness of the hills. “Even if those friends are acting like grumpy meaniepants.”
Applejack said nothing.
In a silence laced with bone-deep exhaustion, the four ponies walked on until they’d reached a small cave. Braeburn and Pinkie ventured inside, while outside Applejack waited with her sister. It only took a few minutes for the other two ponies to emerge from the cave with yokes around their shoulders and a barrel-filled wagon in tow. Applejack helped her sister into the back of the wagon and then limped up to fall in beside Pinkie Pie as their little group began heading back for the waterfall.
Pinkie said nothing.
Applejack’s eyes cut over to the other mare, and she awkwardly cleared her throat. “Uh, Pinkie?”
“Yeppers?”
Applejack could feel her ears go flat against her scalp, and it was in a quiet voice she replied, “I’m sorry. All right? I’m sorry for actin’ like a grumpy meaniepants." Quietly she sighed. “I reckon the only real silly filly here is me.”
“Well, I appreciate the apology. Thank you.” Pinkie grinned, her teeth shining bright. “Besides, I like silly fillies.”
They Shoot Ponies, Don't They?
Chapter 4
Throughout the whole of Equestria, there was nopony who threw a party like Pinkie Pie threw a party. That universal fact remained true regardless of whether the party was held in Ponyville, Canterlot, Appleloosa, or the depths of Tartarus itself. Applejack had always admired Pinkie’s party planning abilities in a vague and abstract sort of way, much the same as she did with Rarity’s fashion designing or Twilight’s studies, but that was before the Apple family reunion. Ever since she’d seen first-hoof just how hard it was to throw together an event like a party, Applejack had come to appreciate the true impressiveness of Pinkie Pie’s particular skillset.
And the Salt Block was impressive, indeed. Applejack stood in the middle of Appleloosa’s finest saloon--really, its only saloon--and marveled at the festive green streamers dripping from every available surface that could possibly hold streamers. The streamers’ extreme cheeriness proved almost overwhelming compared to the saloon’s plain bar and simple wood-paneled walls. If Applejack had been pressed to give her unvarnished opinion, she’d have to admit that she thought they looked maybe a little out of place.
But the decorations were mighty impressive and mighty festive. There was no denying that. Plus, Applejack thought the banner spread from one end of the saloon to the other, reading “Happy Treeiversary, Bloomberg!” in letters as big as a pony’s head, was an especially nice touch.
The decorations weren’t the only thing adding to the festivity, though. Inside the saloon ponies and buffalo crowded shoulder to shoulder, chatting and laughing, eating and drinking, and Applejack had never seen a group so lively and so animated before noon. Nearly the entire town had turned out despite the early hour. Adding to the noise and general atmosphere, Pinkie Pie stood atop an upright player piano nestled in a corner of the saloon, with Apple Bloom right by her side, both mares dancing and singing at the top of their lungs. Such was the extent of the good mood that reigned throughout the saloon that absolutely no one threw a single tomato or glass of cider at the duo to get them to shut up.
Applejack grinned. Her shoulder still smarted, more than a little, but it was worth it. This was worth it. Even if she still didn’t feel one hundred percent sure about letting Apple Bloom attend a party held in a saloon.
At least Pinkie and Braeburn had promised that they’d hidden all the hard cider.
“Miss Applejack!” boomed a voice from behind, and Applejack winced as a heavy hoof came down on her bad shoulder. “That water you young’uns brought down oughta perk up the trees a bit, at least ‘til we can get some rain.”
Applejack glanced over and found herself face to face with Sheriff Silverstar. The stallion was beaming at her full on, happy as a clam, and she smiled back politely.
“Weren’t nothing much, Sheriff. Just happy to hear it might help save the orchards.”
Still grinning, the sheriff nodded. “It sure will! Now, if’n you’ll excuse me, miss, I’m gonna go find that cousin o’ yours and give him my thanks, as well.”
Applejack waved her goodbyes as Sheriff Silverstar moved off and was reabsorbed into the crowd. She watched the stallion weave in and out and around the buffalo and townsfolk, eventually reaching the bar where Braeburn and Little Strongheart both sat. Applejack couldn’t hear a word they were saying. But when Silverstar clapped Braeburn on the back, hard enough to nearly send Braeburn’s hat flying off his head, the younger stallion’s face lit up like fireworks.
“Mayor Braeburn,” Applejack muttered under her breath. She let out a snort. “Just wait ‘til I tell Big Mac and Granny Smith …”
Still atop the piano, Pinkie and Apple Bloom finished up their song. They took their bows, to a smattering of tepid applause, then hopped down. Pinkie scooped the younger pony onto her back and came bounding over to Applejack.
“Heya, AJ!” Pinkie called out, skidding to a halt right next to the table where Applejack was sitting. She pointed to the empty glass beside the other mare. “You need a refill on your milkshake?”
Before today, Applejack hadn’t even known you could make milkshakes from apples. Truth be told, she wasn’t at all sure whether you should make milkshakes from apples. But she smiled a sincere smile, nonetheless, as she gently shook her head.
“Appreciate the offer, sugarcube, but I’m plumb stuffed.”
Pinkie Pie’s eyes narrowed. “Are you sure? ‘Cause I think I remember that you’re supposed to feed a stab wound. Like with a fever!” Frowning, she lifted a hoof to tap at her chin. “Or is it colds you’re supposed to feed? Oh, well! You can’t go wrong with feeding pretty much anything, really.”
“Yeah!” Apple Bloom chimed in. “You’re still hurt pretty bad, sis. You oughta let us take care of ya the way you take care of us!”
Applejack leaned forward to give her sister an affectionate nuzzle. “That’s real sweet of ya, ‘Bloom. And actually, there is somethin’ you can do for me.” She nodded towards the front doors of the saloon. “You can go back to Braeburn’s house and get our bags all packed up and ready to go.”
Instantly the filly’s face fell into a pout. “But Applejack! We just got here!”
“I said we was goin’ to Appleloosa for the weekend, and the weekend’s near over.” Applejack paused. “Besides, you got school tomorrow mornin’, and Miss Cheerilee would have my hide if I let ya skip for no good reason.”
Invoking Cheerilee seemed to do the trick. Apple Bloom sighed a defeated little sigh and began trudging off. Applejack chuckled a little, with a feeling caught somewhere between amused and sympathetic tugging at her chest, while she watched her little sister leave.
“Didja send her away ‘cause of me?”
Applejack turned her head. Pinkie Pie was staring at her with a tiny frown and drooping ears, like a foal who’d stolen snickerdoodles from the cookie jar and was waiting for her yelling.
“No, ‘course not,” said Applejack. She raised an eyebrow. “Why in Equestria would you think somethin’ like that?”
Pinkie looked down at her hooves. “Well, um, I know you didn’t really like having Apple Bloom come to the party ‘cause of it being in a saloon. Even though it had to be here, ‘cause there’s noplace else big enough for everypony and everybuffalo, but maybe that’s not the main thing.” She scuffed a forehoof along the dusty floorboards. “Maybe the main thing is that I know you really, really didn’t like Apple Bloom coming with me and Braeburn last night.”
Applejack sucked in her breath and let it back out in a sigh. “I sent Apple Bloom away to give her something to do, ‘cause she hates feelin’ all useless and like she ain’t good for nothing.”
“Oh.” Still Pinkie wouldn’t lift her eyes from the floor.
“And to be honest with ya, she takes after her big sis there.” Applejack glanced over to the bandages on her shoulder and frowned. “I ain’t much for letting ‘Bloom see me be all useless and good for nothing.”
At that, Pinkie’s head snapped back up. “But that doesn’t make any sense. You’re not useless at all!”
Applejack blinked a bit before shrugging. “Sure, I am. Can’t do much of anything with my shoulder like this.”
“Yeah huh!” Pinkie nodded so quickly her eyes seemed to rattle around in her head. “You can play the fiddle and throw horseshoes and sing really pretty and tell us what to do when there’s stampedes and bake the superest apple pies ever and--”
“I didn’t mean stuff like that,” Applejack interrupted. Her face felt a bit warm. Maybe it was being in a room crammed full of so many ponies and buffalo. “I meant, y’know, important stuff.”
“But … but all of that is important. It is!”
Applejack sighed. “Pinkie, I know ya mean well, but fact o’ the matter is--”
“Applejack!”
Quick as lightning, the farm pony’s head whipped around. The shout--no, the scream --had come from somewhere outside the saloon, from a young voice whose owner was unmistakable. Somewhere deep in her belly there formed a ball of ice, heavy and cold, stabbing at her from the inside, and Applejack found she couldn’t quite catch her breath.
“Applejack, help! ”
Her hooves moved without any conscious thought on her own part. She took off for the saloon’s front door and almost immediately tripped as her shoulder seized. She would have surely smashed into the floor face-first, except suddenly Pinkie Pie was right there, her fluffy mane tickling Applejack’s belly as she nudged Applejack back upright. Together the two mares burst through the saloon doors and tumbled out onto the nearly deserted streets beyond.
But not entirely deserted. Several yards away stood Apple Bloom, directly in front of the town jail, surrounded by ponies with glittering eyes and too-bright smiles. The merciless sun cast down shadows that spread out behind the bandits like long, grasping claws scratching at the dry dust of the town’s main thoroughfare. The orange-maned unicorn from the train--the one who was responsible for Applejack’s shoulder--had a foreleg wrapped around Apple Bloom’s shoulder and the very tip of his horn pressed against Apple Bloom’s temple.
From somewhere right behind her, Applejack heard Braeburn softly curse.
That familiar turquoise pegasus hovered a few feet above the others in her gang, grinning like the cat who’d eaten the canary. “Thought we’d come visit our pals in the hoosegow.” She nodded towards the unicorn and chuckled. “Runnin’ into our little friend over here was just--how would them fancy Canterlot ponies put it? An unexpected bonus, I reckon?”
Applejack could feel her nostrils flare and her muscles tighten. Even from a distance, it was easy to see just how wide and scared Apple Bloom’s eyes were, and every fiber within Applejack’s being screamed at her to start bucking in heads. But she knew there was no way she’d be able to get in a single lick before that unicorn could fire off some magic, and so she stayed put right where she was. Just watching for the moment. Waiting.
Waiting and ready.
“Y’all have caused more’n enough trouble already,” called out Sheriff Silverstar, as he too exited the saloon. “You’d best let that filly go before it’s too late.”
The unicorn stallion laughed. “Excuse me, Sheriff, but I don’t think you’re in much of a position to be givin’ orders.”
“What d’you want?” Braeburn growled.
Just like that, the pegasus mare’s grin was gone. She frowned as though she’d eaten a particularly sour lemon. Then she stepped forward and leveled a forehoof at Pinkie Pie.
“That one’s done interfered with our plans twice now, poppin’ outta nowhere like a jack in the box and makin’ us all look like fools. Ain’t nopony gets away with makin’ us into fools.” She spat on the ground. “I’m challengin’ her to a duel. Me an’ her, mare to mare. She says no, and the little filly over here pays the price.”
Applejack’s eyes narrowed. “If’n you got a problem with anypony, it’s with me. You oughta be--”
“What if I say yes?” Pinkie’s voice was scarcely above a whisper yet somehow, the moment she spoke, the entire street went dead silent. “If I say yes, will you let Apple Bloom go? Will you promise to go away and stop hurting ponies?”
“Pinkie Pie …”
“If’n you say yes?” The pegasus smirked. “You say yes and just maybe we’ll think about all o’ that.”
“Good enough,” Pinkie replied.
Applejack whirled around. “Pinkie Pie!”
The other mare looked back at her with a steady gaze. Her pink jaw jutted out slightly, and her eyes burned with all the heat and fury of the sun. The last time Applejack had seen Pinkie like this, they’d been staring each other down while sitting in a stagecoach racing out of Dodge Junction. But it was different, too, because unlike back then, right now Pinkie wasn’t mad at her. At least, Applejack felt pretty sure that Pinkie wasn’t mad.
“AJ? You trust me, right?”
Pinkie’s voice was even softer than before, so soft Applejack had to lean forward a little just to hear. Applejack hazarded a glance over to Apple Bloom, who stared back at her with expectant eyes, and Applejack swallowed over the lump in her throat.
She turned back to Pinkie and took a deep breath. “Of course I trust ya. You know I do.”
Pinkie Pie nodded at that, seemingly placated. After a moment’s hesitation, Applejack nodded in reply. It was decided, then. Applejack offered up a silent prayer that she’d done the right thing-- that Pinkie would do the right thing, whatever that might be--as she silently watched the pink mare begin marching over to the pegasus.
It was out of her hooves now.
A scant fifteen minutes later saw the entirety of the gathered buffalo and town’s ponies lined up along one side of the street, murmuring quietly amongst themselves, while the gang of bandits lined up along the other side. Only Braeburn and the duelists remained in the center of the street, the dust swirling around their hooves and large beads of sweat visible upon their brows. The pegasus wore a nasty-looking crossbow, strapped to her back and her wings, while Pinkie Pie wore a steaming fresh apple pie atop her head like a jaunty little cap.
Applejack began praying harder.
“All right, ladies, the rules here are simple.” Braeburn glanced from the turquoise pegasus to Pinkie and back again. “Each duelist has gotten her choice of, uh, weapon . Start back to back, walk ten paces, then turn ‘round and fire. Pony who’s still standin’ by the end is the winner.”
The pegasus glared daggers at Pinkie, but Pinkie merely smiled in return.
“Little Strongheart will do the countin’ off,” continued Braeburn, as the buffalo in question emerged from the crowd and began walking towards him. “She ain’t Appleloosan, and she ain’t part o’ all y’all robbers, so she’s closest we got to a fair judge.”
Little Strongheart gave a hesitant nod. “Please take your places, both of you.”
The pegasus lifted her lip in a sneer but turned around as she was told. So did Pinkie. The tips of the crossbow’s four arrows glinting menacingly under the stark, cloudless sky, and Applejack felt her stomach curl up on itself. She shifted her weight, unable to keep still, and briefly turned her gaze towards Apple Bloom. That blasted unicorn still had his horn pressed right up against her temples. Applejack had to bite down hard on her tongue to not yell out. She’d said she trusted Pinkie, and she did. But that didn’t mean she had to like any of this.
The clock tower in the center of town began tolling the hour.
“One,” Little Strongheart began, her voice loud and strong. Only the tiniest hint of a waver gave away her nervousness.
Both Pinkie and the pegasus took a large step forward, their eyes facing straight ahead, narrowed in concentration. About a pony’s length of distance now separated them.
“Two ...”
Another step forward. The clock tower kept ringing.
“Three ...”
Applejack sneaked another quick glance at Apple Bloom. The filly’s eyes were locked on Pinkie Pie, and the tentative ghost of a smile tugged at her lips.
“Four …”
Turning her eyes back towards the duelists, Applejack frowned. She could see the shiver running through Pinkie’s body, causing the pink mare to quaver on all four hooves. It set the pie atop Pinkie’s head shaking, too, so much that it looked like it might fall right off. Applejack felt her blood go cold.
Pinkie sense.
“Five …”
The twelfth chime of the clock tower’s bells echoed within Applejack’s chest, and Applejack could almost swear she felt her lungs constrict.
“Six …”
As the clock’s final tolling evaporated like mist into the still desert air, the pegasus spun around. She stared at Pinkie’s still-turned back with a grin as wide and as jagged as Ghastly Gorge.
With a sudden jerk of her wings, the crossbow fired.
They Shoot Ponies, Don't They?
Chapter 5
The crossbow fired.
Applejack leapt forward.
It would have been a foolish decision, had it been something she’d decided--as fast a runner as she was, not even Rainbow Dash could have crossed that empty span of street in time to stop those arrows--but it wasn’t a decision at all. Applejack saw the crossbow fire, and her legs pushed against the ground. Simple as that. But even if she hadn’t stumbled when her bad leg gave under the sudden strain, she still would have been too late.
Time itself seemed to slow, as Applejack could do nothing but stand and watch in horror. The arrows flew through the air with a sort of strange, cruel gracefulness, their aim steady and true and deadly straight as they crossed the distance between the pegasus and Pinkie Pie. Pinkie still had her back turned, and still she shook and shivered from snout to tail. The apple pie danced atop her head, shaking right along with Pinkie, so much so that finally it fell right off its perch in Pinkie’s mane.
The pie flipped end over end, wobbling, ungainly, and Pinkie Pie let out an ear-piercing gasp. Quick as a rattler strike, she ducked her head and caught the pie tin between her teeth a split-second before it could hit the ground.
Just centimeters above her fluffy pink mane, all four arrows sailed right on by. Not a single arrow so much as grazed the earth pony.
Everyone gathered along Appleloosa’s main street stared in absolute, stunned silence. Even the pegasus didn’t budge an inch or utter a single syllable.
Then Pinkie tossed back her head. The pie rocketed upwards, and Pinkie darted forward to snatch the pie right out of its tin. Still no one else dared speak or stir. The now-empty pie tin hung suspended in midair, just a moment, just a second, reflecting the bright noon sun like a flaming mirror, before gravity grabbed hold of it once again.
The pie tin fell, and Pinkie grinned. Applejack could see bits of crumb and apple stuck to the other mare’s face, falling to the ground as those pink lips stretched broad and wide. With a small jerk of the head, Pinkie Pie grabbed the tin again. Abruptly she whipped around, and the pie tin hurtled through the quiet desert air like a discus thrown by a champion athlete at the Equestria Games.
As the tin ricocheted right off the pegasus’ forehead, the mare let out a muted whinny and reared back in surprise. Which was a mistake. The tin must have hit just a bit harder than it looked, because as soon as she was up on hind hooves, the pegasus began swaying. Applejack held her breath. Slowly, so painfully, painfully slowly, the pegasus tipped backwards, and at last her legs slipped out from under her.
The quiet thud of flesh against ground rang throughout the otherwise silent streets of Appleloosa, and a small cloud of dust sprayed up into the air. The dust hung suspended for a moment, a thousand tiny particles swirling and dancing in the bright sunlight, almost like mist from a waterfall. In all her days, Applejack had never seen anything so beautiful.
“The duel is over,” said Little Strongheart. Even though she spoke softly, her voice sounded like a cannon in Applejack’s ears. “Pinkie Pie … Pinkie Pie is the winner.”
And just like that, whatever spell had gripped the town was broken.
With a deafening cheer, the Appleloosans rushed across the street. The remaining bandits traded nervous glances before letting go of Apple Bloom and shoving her toward the oncoming mob. The town’s ponies had to skid to a halt to keep from trampling the filly, and the bandits grabbed that opportunity to turn tail and beat a hasty retreat. Meanwhile, Apple Bloom made a beeline for her sister, just as fast as her little hooves would take her, and Applejack hobbled forward to meet her.
“Applejack!”
The older mare scooped up the filly and held her tight against her chest. It hurt a little, the pressure on her shoulder, but Applejack only smiled. She could feel Apple Bloom’s heart hammering through her chest, and she hugged Apple Bloom even fiercer and even tighter.
“I was so worried about you,” she murmured into the filly’s mane.
“Well, I wasn’t worried even a little bit!” Apple Bloom bragged. “I knew you and Pinkie Pie wouldn’t let nothin’ bad happen.”
It was a brazen lie, of course. The filly’s wildly beating heart showed that well enough. Applejack couldn’t bring herself to care. “O’ course you weren’t. You’re the bravest filly I ever did meet.” She chuckled as she gave Apple Bloom a nuzzle. “And o’ course me and Pinkie wouldn’t ever let nothin’ happen to ya.”
A sudden shout from behind drew Applejack’s attention, and she glanced over her shoulder. Sheriff Silverstar and Braeburn had the pegasus mare all tied up, the ropes coiled around the mare’s torso thick as a boa constrictor, and they’d positioned themselves between the mare and the other ponies left in the street. The crowd was advancing on the now-helpless bandit with narrowed eyes and bared teeth. A low, angry muttering slowly grew louder and louder, and Applejack could practically smell trouble in the air, thick and tangy.
“The others got away,” someone shouted, “but this one ain’t gonna!”
The sheriff looked towards Braeburn, who was sweating bullets as he looked out over the gathered crowd. Both stallions shifted nervously on their hooves.
Giving Apple Bloom a quick pat on the head, Applejack disentangled herself from their embrace and began limping towards her cousin. Even with a bum leg, she figured she could be good for some back-up. Back-up for just what, exactly, she didn’t yet know. But she’d never let down her family before, and she wasn’t fixing to start now.
“Waaaaait!
Applejack froze, mid-step. So did Braeburn and Sheriff Silverstar, as well as every other pony and buffalo out there on that hot and dusty street. Even the tied-up pegasus lifted her head a little, her dark eyes wide and attentive.
Suddenly, Pinkie Pie was right there, standing right in the middle of everything, her stance wide and her eyes flashing. After giving the crowd a once-over, Pinkie trotted up to the pegasus and pointed a hoof. The other mare blinked.
“We had a deal,” said Pinkie, pouting slightly. “You said if I won, you’d let Apple Bloom go and leave town and not hurt ponies anymore!”
The sheriff let out a strangled noise of protest. He seemed ready to intervene, but Braeburn quickly caught the other stallion’s eye and shook his head. Silverstar began grumbling under his breath. But otherwise the sheriff held his peace.
Meanwhile, Pinkie had shoved her hoof into the pegasus mare’s face, close enough that it squished in the pegasus’ snout just a little. “And since I won the duel, that means you gotta leave and stop robbing ponies!”
The pegasus glanced over to Applejack, still blinking, as if asking whether Pinkie was serious or not. Applejack just snorted in reply.
Braeburn, too, looked towards Applejack. His green eyes practically pleaded with her to fix all of this. “Well, cuz?” He took off his hat, twisting it between his hooves. “What d’you think? Should we oughta trust her?”
“That one?” Applejack asked, nodding towards the pegasus. “O’ course not. I wouldn’t trust her if she told me water was wet or apples were delicious.”
Pinkie Pie frowned. “But Applejack …”
“This one, though?” Applejack continued, nodding towards Pinkie. Pinkie fell quiet. “I trust her to Tartarus and back. I’ve trusted her with my life and the lives o’ all my near and dear, and she ain’t let me down once.”
A hint of a smile turned up the corners of Pinkie’s lips.
Applejack smiled back. She kept on smiling even as Apple Bloom sidled up beside her. She wrapped a foreleg around her sister, holding her snug and safe against her, while Apple Bloom glared at the pegasus and stuck out her tongue.
“And since Pinkie won the duel, just like she said, I reckon …” By Celestia, she hoped this was the right decision. “Well, I reckon whatever Pinkie thinks oughta happen to the varmint is what oughta happen.”
It was crazy, of course. Pinkie’s suggestion for what to do with the bandit--this bandit who’d threatened all their lives, more than once, at that--was just plain crazy. But then, Pinkie was a bit of a crazy pony. Always had been, always would be. And as Applejack was slowly but surely coming to realize, so was she.
“Well, cuz, if’n you trust Miss Pinkie that much … I guess so do we.” Braeburn twisted his hat a few more times before slapping it back atop his head with a decisive little nod. “All right, Miss Pinkie. What do you think we oughta do here?”
Pinkie peered down at the pegasus, a thoughtful expression in her eyes. “Um, can you untie her?”
The ponies in the crowd began muttering and grumbling again, but a pointed glare from the sheriff quickly silenced them. The buffalo still seemed ill at ease, though, whispering to one another and subtly shaking their heads. Little Strongheart broke away from Braeburn’s side and approached her tribespeople, speaking to them in a low, steady murmur that eventually seemed to restore the fragile peace and calm.
Applejack really, really hoped this was the right decision.
Together Braeburn and Sheriff Silverstar undid the ropes that bound the pegasus. Once free, the pegasus slowly stood and shook out her wings. She stared at Pinkie with uncertainty and a certain wariness deep in her eyes. Applejack half expected the mare to bolt as soon as she was untied, but the mare merely stood there, silent and still.
“Hi!” said Pinkie, thrusting forward a foreleg. “I’m Pinkie Pie! What’s your name?”
The pegasus licked her lips. “I, uh … the name’s Blue.” Her wings rustled against her back. “At least, that’s what most pony folk call me.”
If it bothered Pinkie that the pegasus didn’t shake hooves, it didn’t show in her bright, happy grin. “Nice to meetcha, Blue! So, about our deal ...”
“I cheated, ” the pegasus muttered sullenly, her ears flat against her head and her wings still twitching. “I fired off a shot before that buffalo mare called out ten. And you’re just gonna … you’re gonna let me go?”
“Well, of course not! Don’t be silly! First you gotta Pinkie promise. ”
The pegasus’ jaw dropped--whether in surprise or disgust, Applejack couldn’t quite tell--and the farmer barked out a laugh. “You’d better mean it, too, bandit,” she offered up in a conversational tone, with perhaps just a hint of malice underneath. “Pinkie takes her promises real, real serious-like, y’see. Ain’t nopony breaks a Pinkie promise.”
Pinkie Pie nodded cheerfully. The pegasus blinked some more.
“Y’all are the craziest ponies I ever met.”
Already Bloomberg looked better. Well, no. Not actually. It was too soon for him to look much different than he had the day before, but with her hoof against his trunk, Applejack could feel the tree coming back to life. Could feel the water and its nutrients trickling upwards, from his roots to his trunk to his branches and out through his poor shriveled leaves.
Was it really just yesterday that she’d been out here? It didn’t seem like yesterday. If she hadn’t known better, she’d have been tempted to say that years had passed since then. Or maybe she just felt years older. Years wiser, too.
“Pinkie Pie, do you really think the varmint’ll keep her promise?” asked Apple Bloom, from her perch atop the pink mare’s back.
“Well, sure!” The frown in Pinkie’s voice was audible. “I mean, she Pinkie promised!”
Applejack bit down on a sigh. “I hope you’re right, sugarcube. I really do.”
She patted Bloomberg’s trunk one last time before turning around. Pinkie and Apple Bloom grinned back at her. Together the three ponies walked through the orchards, side by side, heading back towards town. To tell the truth, they probably shouldn’t have come down here, given how soon their train was scheduled to arrive. But Applejack couldn’t quite resist paying one last visit to Bloomberg before heading back home.
Pinkie Pie had understood. Applejack had known she would.
“Just wait ‘til I tell the girls about all we did this weekend,” Apple Bloom began again, sounding as cheerful as ever. “They ain’t gonna believe it!”
Applejack shot her little sister a quick glare. “Yeah, well, when you go talkin’ to Scoots and Sweetie, you’d best also tell ‘em not to go tryin’ to play bandits and train robbers. Y’hear me?”
“Aww! But sis!”
“None o' that, now.” Applejack shook her head as she hobbled along, but she couldn’t help chuckling a little. “Last thing I need is Rarity hoppin’ mad at me ‘cause Sweetie Belle’s all tied up and none of y’all can undo the knots.”
Apple Bloom muttered something under her breath--something that sounded a whole lot like “Scootaloo’s the one I was gonna tie up”--but Applejack chose to ignore it. Probably the smartest decision she’d made the whole weekend, too.
As the trio made their way down the orchard’s long rows, they nodded in greeting to the Appleloosans they passed. Ponies walked among the lines of apple trees with watering cans held in their mouths, and Applejack broke into a broad smile as she watched the water soak down into the soil. She could almost swear that all the tree branches above them looked greener and fuller, that the provided shade felt noticeably cooler, even though she knew it was only her imagination acting up.
They reached Appleloosa’s little train station just as the train pulled in. Braeburn and Little Strongheart were waiting there to meet them, and it was only after several rounds of enthusiastic hugs that the three Ponyvillians finally boarded the train. Once aboard, they quickly settled onto a bench in one of the passenger cars--or, at least, Applejack and Apple Bloom settled down. Pinkie Pie hung halfway out the window, calling and waving to the stallion and buffalo who remained on the train platform down below. She didn’t duck back inside the car until the train was a good few miles down the track and long after Little Strongheart and Braeburn had become nothing but tiny dots against the horizon. Applejack just quietly shook her head.
To the other side of Applejack sat Apple Bloom, next to the aisle. As the train kept rumbling down the tracks, Apple Bloom proved as boisterous as usual, leaning over Applejack to chat with Pinkie, and when she wasn’t doing that, Pinkie was leaning over Applejack to chat with Apple Bloom. Every few minutes, Applejack would have to shove one or the other back to her side of the bench. Otherwise, she didn’t much protest the personal space invasion. Didn’t have much of a heart for protesting, truth be told, considering the weekend they’d all just had.
Besides, Applejack didn’t have to suffer too terribly long. Apple Bloom nodded off before they were even a full two hours out of Appleloosa, and Applejack smiled down at her little sister as the filly curled up against her side, snout buried under Applejack’s foreleg as the filly loudly snored away. Poor little filly had earned her rest, and Applejack was more than happy to be a pillow if a pillow was what she needed to be. Even if Apple Bloom could snore loud enough to wake the dead.
Satisfied that Apple Bloom was comfortable enough, Applejack turned her head towards the pony still awake. Pinkie Pie grinned back at her expectantly.
“We oughta talk more,” said Applejack.
Pinkie blinked at that, eyelashes fluttering, as if surprised. Her grin didn’t falter, though. “Sure! What do you wanna talk about?”
Applejack gave a slight shrug, careful not to let the movement jostle Apple Bloom. “Whatever you fancy talkin’ about, I reckon.”
It turned out that Pinkie had rather a few things she fancied talking about. She talked about the new sugarless cupcake recipe she was working on, and she talked about next week’s surprise birthday party for Dr. Colgate, Ponyville’s dentist, a party which Pinkie hoped would include the aforementioned sugarless cupcakes. She talked about Rainbow Dash’s newest tricks--which were the absolute biggest and very best tricks ever performed in the entire history of pegasus ponies, Applejack was assured--and about her tentative plans for building the largest, bounciest trampoline in Equestria. Then, just as Applejack was starting to wonder if there was anything Pinkie didn’t fancy talking about, Pinkie Pie abruptly stopped talking and let out the longest yawn Applejack had ever heard.
Applejack glanced over and found Pinkie actually blushing a bit. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen Pinkie blush or even if she’d ever seen it before right now.
No. No, she’d never seen Pinkie blush before. She couldn’t have. Because with how pretty Pinkie looked right now, a bit of extra pink in her cheeks, Applejack would’ve remembered if she’d seen it before. She knew she would have.
“Sorry for yawning in your face.” Pinkie giggled. “Oh, yeah, and sorry for saying a whole bunch of stuff without giving you a chance to say a whole bunch of stuff, too! That’s rude. Twilight told me.”
Applejack chuckled in reply. She felt certain that Twilight had told Pinkie Pie a whole heap of things, about a whole heap of different subjects, and it was always interesting to see what Pinkie listened to and what she didn’t.
“So, Applejack! What do you wanna talk about?”
“I dunno.” It was the truth. Applejack leaned back on the bench. “Ain’t got much to say at the moment, really. Except that you’re welcome to get some shut-eye, if’n you’d like. Got us a ways before we reach Ponyville.”
Pinkie squinted at her. “Are you absolutely, positively sure? If I take a nap, then you won’t have anypony to talk to, and that’s super sad!”
A grin flashed across Applejack’s face. “Pinkie Pie, after all you done for me and mine this weekend, it’s the least I can do to repay ya.”
Pinkie Pie didn’t have to know that a little peace and quiet sounded pretty good right about then, too.
“Okie dokie. If you say so ...”
“Well, seein’ as I just said it,” observed Applejack, amusement in her voice, “I reckon I do say so.”
Pinkie nodded and, apparently convinced, laid her head on Applejack’s shoulder. The farmer winced a little but didn’t say a word. Instead, she carefully lifted her left foreleg and wrapped it around the other mare, holding her close. As much as her shoulder was grumbling at her, Applejack felt good. Being able to feel Apple Bloom and Pinkie Pie against her, to hold them and to keep them safe, even if it was just keeping them safe from the shadows in her own mind--all of that felt better than good. Even with an achy shoulder to account for.
Pinkie Pie yawned again, loud and long, and Applejack could feel the other mare’s breath tickle the fur of her chest. Still grinning, she leaned down and deposited a gentle kiss in Apple Bloom’s mane. Then, half on instinct, she turned and did the same with Pinkie.
Almost instantly Pinkie’s head jerked back up. “What was that? ”
“What was what?” Applejack raised an eyebrow. “You don’t mean to tell me you don’t know what a kiss is, do ya?”
“Well, of course I do! I kiss ponies all the time--Pound and Pumpkin and my mom and my dad and my sisters and sometimes Gummy if his breath isn’t too stinky.” Pinkie tilted her head and frowned. “But you’ve never kissed me before!”
Applejack opened her mouth, paused, then shut it again. It was true, what Pinkie had said. She’d never given her so much as a passing peck on the cheek before. Not that it really mattered, of course. At least, it felt like it shouldn’t really matter.
But the look Applejack was getting right now made her question whether or not it mattered. The pink mare was staring at her hard, still with that thoughtful little frown, those immense blue eyes keen and focused in a way they almost never were. After a few tense and silent seconds, Pinkie finally gave a little nod, as if she’d just figured out the answer to some problem she was having.
“Hey, Applejack?” She nibbled on her lower lip, a nervous sort of gesture that seemed strange and wrong coming from a pony like Pinkie. “Can I … can I kiss you back?”
Applejack licked her lips. Her throat felt suddenly dry, though she wasn’t sure why it should. “Sure. Sure, ‘course you can.”
Pinkie Pie leaned forward and kissed her. It lasted only a moment, little more than a brush of pink lips against orange, just long enough for Applejack to register softness and the slight taste of sugar. To register how very warm Pinkie’s chest felt against her own, as they pressed against one another, and how Pinkie’s mane smelled a little like grass, but in a nice way.
When Pinkie pulled away, she was smiling just as brightly as Applejack had ever seen her smile. Applejack couldn’t help smiling back.
She supposed she should feel bothered or upset. Or worried. Probably worried. Undoubtedly she should be thinking about all the ways she could gently tell Pinkie Pie that they were just friends, that Applejack didn’t like her like that, that maybe they ought to go sit on separate benches for the rest of the train ride home. But the only thing Applejack felt was calm, a nice and cozy peacefulness that settled somewhere in her chest and spread out like the rays of the sun.
And all Applejack ended up saying was, “Go on and lay your head back down, sugar. Try to get some shut-eye.”
With a happy little sigh, Pinkie settled back in. Applejack leaned her cheek against the top of Pinkie’s head, burying her nose in that fluffy pink. It still smelled like grass and maybe a little like apple pie, too. It was nice.
As Applejack sat and as Applejack watched out the train windows as the sun kissed the horizon, she found herself thinking about what she’d do once they got back to Ponyville. Maybe Pinkie Pie would want to come over next weekend to help bake some apple fritters. Maybe Applejack would accidentally get a bit of flour on Pinkie’s cheek and have to kiss it off. Maybe Pinkie would laugh and kiss her back. Maybe Pinkie would laugh but smudge some flour on Applejack’s own face. Maybe all of that would happen, and maybe none of that would happen. Either way, Applejack felt herself itching to find out just which it would turn out to be.
And all of that was a little bit crazy, she knew, a tiny bit silly, but maybe that wasn’t so bad. When it came to some things, Applejack got a little bit crazy and a tiny bit silly. When it came to her family or her trees or her friends, Applejack lost her head a little, but maybe that wasn’t such a terrible thing. Not always, anyway.
Still grinning from the kiss, Applejack pulled her eyes away from the window and glanced over to the mare now snoring away and drooling on her shoulder. No, maybe it wasn’t such a terrible thing at all.
After all, Pinkie Pie liked silly ponies.
They Shoot Ponies, Don't They?
Epilogue
“The rodeo! The rodeo!” Sweetie Belle belted out, as the energetic filly skipped down the lane that led from Ponyville’s downtown out towards the countryside beyond. “We’re going to go see the show! So hurry up, and let’s all go!”
Apple Bloom nodded so hard it looked like her head might pop right off her neck. “Hey, and y’know what? Maybe we’ll get us some rodeo cutie marks, even!”
“That’d be awesome!” cheered Scootaloo.
Rarity let out a huff. “Girls, please! If you force me to run after you, I’m liable to break out into a sweat!”
Applejack chuckled as Rarity did just that--both the running and the sweating. From above, Rainbow Dash cackled, too, as the pegasus flew lazy circles around the caravan of ponies making its way out to the fields beyond the city. Scootaloo had the lead and was racing ahead on her scooter, while Sweetie and Apple Bloom hustled to keep up and a panting Rarity trailed not far behind. Fluttershy and Twilight, with Spike riding atop the alicorn’s back, strolled along at a much more leisurely place behind the others. Applejack and Pinkie Pie brought up the rear.
“I hardly see the humor here.” Rarity scowled up at Dash before turning her head to shoot a poisonous glare in Applejack’s direction. “Especially since I’m the only one keeping an eye on the girls.”
Dash shrugged affably. “I can see ‘em just fine from up here. Bird’s eye view and all.”
For her own part, Applejack found herself suddenly stammering. “Oh, uh, sorry about that, Rare. It’s just that I … well, you see …”
“It’s your shoulder again,” said Twilight, glancing back. Her face remained perfectly neutral, but Applejack could hear the frown in her voice. “Isn’t it, AJ?”
“Well, it ain’t my fault!” Applejack felt herself blush. “It’s fixin’ to rain soon, and my shoulder always acts up when it’s fixin’ to rain. So go lecture the birdbrain up there, not me.”
Rainbow Dash crossed her legs over her chest. “Hey, whoa, no way am I takin’ the blame! It’s gotta rain sometime , right? Besides, it’s not supposed to rain ‘til long after the rodeo’s over.” She rolled her eyes. “I don’t see why everypony’s getting their tails all in a knot here.”
“Um, maybe Rainbow’s right.” Fluttershy’s eyes bounced uneasily between Applejack and Twilight. “Maybe we don’t need to fight about this again …”
But if Twilight had heard Fluttershy’s plea, she gave no indication. Instead, she sighed heavily--some might even say melodramatically--as she continued in her patented lecturing tone, “Honestly, Applejack, if you’d just done what the doctors told you and taken it easy while you were healing from--”
“Hey, guys, look! ” Pinkie Pie leapt up and hung in the air for an almost impossibly long moment, her foreleg stretched out and quivering with excitement. “There it is!”
The entire group fell into a hush as they looked in the direction where Pinkie pointed. Just a hundred yards or so off the dirt road stood a giant tent, larger and more colorful than any Applejack had ever seen. It looked something like a bizarre yet cheerful giant flower growing in the middle of a large field. Long lines of ponies slowly filed inside the tent, chatting and laughing, most wearing cowboy hats of some sort or another.
High above it all, the clouds cast some very appreciated shade over the treeless landscape. A gentle wind blew across the fields and, even without any sunshine, it was a perfect day for a rodeo.
As the others picked up the pace, eager to get in line, Applejack just kept plodding along. Really, she was walking a bit faster than she should already, given the way her shoulder was moaning and groaning, but she didn’t want to make her friends any later than they already were. Wrangling the Cutie Mark Crusaders and Spike always added an extra fifteen to twenty minutes to any given outing.
Pinkie started bouncing higher and higher the nearer they got to the great tent, but it was a sort of slow-motion bounce that allowed her to stay right by Applejack’s side. The farm pony shot a grateful look towards her fillyfriend.
“Thanks for interrupting back there,” she said, quiet enough that the others wouldn’t overhear. “Heaven knows I love Twi, but I gotta admit I wasn’t much in a mood for a lecture.”
Pinkie beamed back at her. “Oh, sure, no problem!” But the smile was gone in an instant, as Pinkie pursed her lips. “She’s got a point, though. You totally should have listened to the nice doctor ponies, AJ.”
Applejack’s ears went flat against her skull. She looked down at her hooves, silent, for a moment or two. “Yeah. I … I reckon you’re right, sugar.”
“Yep, yep!” Pinkie leaned over and gave Applejack a peck on the cheek. “I’m always right!”
“I ain’t sure I’d go quite that far.” Despite herself, Applejack cracked a smile. “But you’re one smart cookie, sometimes. I’ll give ya that.”
Pinkie Pie giggled. “Nuh uh! You’re Smart Cookie. I’m Chancellor Puddinghead.”
Applejack snorted softly and shook her head. “You know darn well what I mean. Now, c’mon, let’s get ourselves inside ‘fore Rainbow eats all the popcorn.”
It turned out, by the time they’d made their way into the tent and rejoined the others, that Rainbow Dash had eaten all of the popcorn and half of the roasted peanuts. Still, Applejack couldn’t quite work herself up into a lather about it--not with Apple Bloom leaning forward eagerly in her seat with a smile broad enough to break her face, not with a soft and warm Pinkie Pie leaning up against her, not with the smell of sawdust and anticipation filling the air. Grinning, Applejack swiped the rest of the peanuts from Dash and settled in for the show.
Down on the large floor of the tent, surrounded on all sides by cheering crowds, the rodeo began. First up were the amateurs. An assortment of cowponies, mostly on the younger side, twirled ropes and lassoed hogs. After the rope tricks came bull riding, and Applejack let out a long, low whistle of appreciation as she watched the stallions and mares take their mounts. Even with as many rodeos as she had competed in over the years, she’d never once entered any of the bull-riding events. The bulls always tried their hardest not to buck too hard--it was supposed to be a friendly competition between rider and ridden, after all, and not a blood sport--but even so, sometimes a bull wouldn’t know his strength or a pony wouldn’t have a tight enough hold.
Sometimes, but not today. A few bulls threw their riders, while a few riders held on for all ten seconds, but every last one of the ponies and the bulls made it through with little more than a few bruises and scratches for wear and tear. As the ponies and bulls shook hooves with one another, the crowd roared its approval.
Then, as the floor cleared and the lights dimmed, a hush fell over the whole tent. Almost time for the main event, then.
Rarity leaned over towards Fluttershy, loudly whispering, “Do you know what I heard, darling? I heard that the star of the rodeo used to be a train robber. ” Somehow she managed to sound both terribly scandalized and utterly delighted. “Can you believe it?”
Fluttershy shrank back. “Oh, goodness. Is it safe to be here, then?”
“I wouldn’t worry too much if I were you, Fluttershy.” Twilight chuckled and shook her head. “That sounds like just a folk legend to me--and from what I’ve read, a bit of falsehood and exaggeration is all part of the stagemanship of an event like this.”
“No way! Rarity’s totally right!” Dash interjected, her wings vibrating excitedly. “Big Blue was the roughest, toughest bandit in the Wild West until she ended up in this little nowhere town and got challenged to a duel by some mysterious stranger who nopony had ever seen before.”
Applejack couldn’t quite hold in a snort. Rainbow Dash just ignored her.
“She didn’t? ” Rarity gasped.
Twilight rolled her eyes. “I’m willing to bet absolutely none of that actually happened.”
Dash reached over with a hoof and pushed Twilight aside. Eyes glittering through the dark, she continued in an increasingly animated tone, “Yeah, no, it totally did happen! She’d never lost a duel before, not ever, but this stranger beat her, with both forehooves tied behind her back. Man, that’s gotta be the strongest pony in Equestria!” Suddenly she frowned. “I mean, except for me, of course. And maybe Spitfire.”
“Nuh uh!” Pinkie wrapped a foreleg around Applejack’s shoulders. “My Applejack’s the strongest pony ever!”
Rarity raised an eyebrow. “Yes, well, far be it for me to dispute Applejack’s rather considerable strength, but I do doubt she’s ever won a duel. I doubt she’s ever even fought a duel.”
Applejack grinned as she leaned against Pinkie’s shoulder. “Nope. Can’t say that I ever have.”
“Hey! I’m tryin’ to tell a story here, if you guys don’t mind,” grumbled Rainbow Dash, pouting a bit. She waited until she had everyone’s attention before taking up her story again. “So anyway, this bandit loses the duel, right? She’s at this other pony’s mercy, and it looks like it’s lights out for Big Blue.”
Fluttershy glanced nervously at the row ahead, where Spike and the Cutie Mark Crusaders sat chatting and laughing and eating their third helpings of popcorn of the day. “Um, Rainbow Dash? Are you sure you should be telling this story right now? With certain little ears listening?”
Rainbow waved a dismissive hoof in Fluttershy’s direction, as though she could physically banish her fellow pegasus’ doubts by doing so. “Oh, sure, sure, it’s fine! The story’s got a happy ending, ‘Shy. Anyway, the mysterious stranger tells Big Blue to run, as far and as fast as she can, and to never let her see so much as a feather from Big Blue ever again.” Her voice dropped low, almost reverent. “Ponies say that when the stranger pony was giving out all these orders, the ground actually shook like thunder.”
“Oooh,” said Pinkie appreciatively.
“Yep! So Big Blue got scared onto the straight and narrow, and she’s been doing this traveling rodeo ever since.” Dash turned towards Fluttershy and gave her a nudge. “See? Happy ending, just like I said.”
Pinkie clapped. “Yay! That was a really great story, Dashie!”
“Emphasis on story ,” muttered Twilight, crossing her forelegs over her chest. “As in utterly unsubstantiated fiction .”
“Fictional or not, I thought it was quite the romantic tale, myself,” Rarity retorted.
“Hush now, all y’all.” Applejack nodded towards the tent’s floor. “Show’s about to start up again.”
As soon as Applejack had spoken, the lights went back up and a turquoise-coated pegasus cantered into the middle of the tent. The mare wore a vest studded with so many rhinestones that a Diamond Dog would’ve drooled just to look at her. Grinning wide and bright enough to be seen even from the back rows, the pegasus tipped her Stetson to the crowd.
Applejack could’ve sworn that the mare’s eyes were on her and Pinkie as the pegasus took her bows. Pinkie seemed to notice and think so, too, if the way she hugged Applejack a little tighter was anything to go by.
“Howdy, y’all! Welcome to Big Blue’s Ragin’ Rodeo!”
A loud cheer ripped through the tent, and the pegasus had to wait a few seconds before she could speak again. While waiting, she continued to beam at all the gathered ponies in the stands, and her wings flapped in the way Rainbow Dash’s did whenever Rainbow was feeling especially cocky.
“It’s great to here in Ponyville today,” Blue continued, once the crowd had quieted down to a dull roar, “and lemme tell ya, we’ve got one heck of a show planned for y’all …”
Applejack rested her head on Pinkie’s shoulder as down below one team of ponies began setting up the infamous Spinning Wheel of Doom and while a second team began strapping Blue into her a crossbow. The farmer chuckled softly as she noticed Spike and the Crusaders lean forward in their seats, perfectly silent and perfectly rapt, their eyes as wide as dinner plates. She made a mental note to keep an eye out in the near future for ill-advised Spinning Wheel of Doom recreations.
Still, it really was a perfect day for a rodeo. And even vague worries about the future well-being of the Crusaders couldn’t dampen Applejack’s spirits or distract her from the pony who was responsible for it being such a perfect day.
Turning her head, Applejack whispered into Pinkie’s ear, “Y’know something, sugar? I reckon Rainbow Dash was right.”
“Oh, wow! You don’t say that a whole lot. Actually, um, I’m not sure I’ve ever heard you say that.” Pinkie giggled a little, and her eyes sparkled extra bright. “What was Dashie right about?”
Applejack grinned as she leaned in for a kiss. “About this story havin’ a happy ending.”
THE END.
Author's Note
As always, thanks so much for reading! This story's given me more trouble than any other story I've written for this fandom, but I hope it provided at least some enjoyment. Thanks for comin' along on the ride. :)
