Little Strongheart Opens A Buffalo Casino
The sun shone down upon the Appleloosan plains as Little Strongheart and Chief Thunderhooves emerged from their teepee, along with the other members of the buffalo tribe.
“Ah, what a beautiful day for some stampeding,” said Chief Thunderhooves, donning his feather headdress.
“Yeah, it sure is…” said Little Strongheart, her voice trailing off at the end.
“What is it, Little Strongheart?” asked Chief Thunderhooves.
“Oh, nothing,” she said, blushing.
“Nothing, my hoof!” said Chief Thunderhooves. “Something’s eating you, and I demand to know what it is!”
“You wouldn’t understand,” she answered.
“Oh? Try me.”
“You see,” said Little Strongheart, looking towards the ground as she spoke, “Ever since those ponies came, I’ve had a desire to go live among them.”
Chief Thunderhooves jumped in the air, his fur standing on end.
“You what? How could you want to go live with them? They do not know of our ways, Little Strongheart. They know nothing of tradition!”
“I know, father, but they have neat technology and actual homes. Wouldn’t it be nice to settle down and not have to move our teepees all the time? Instead of hunting for apples, we could farm them!”
Thunderhooves frowned. “We shall not change our ways. Our fathers hunted for apples, as did their fathers before them, and their fathers--”
Strongheart interrupted him. “Listen, I’m now of age. If I want to go out into the world myself, then you can't stop me!”
Thunderhooves sighed. “Very well. I may not stop you, but I may give you a word of caution. Don't forget who you are, and where you come from.”
“I won’t, father.”
*****
Little Strongheart walked down the Main Street of Appleloosa, gazing at the sights. Two stallions were having a gunfight duel in the town square. Others were walking around, pushing carts full of apple pies. Still others milled about inside of the town saloon.
Strongheart walked inside of the Salty Saloon, and was instantly greeted by the stares of the ponies inside, not used to seeing a buffalo ‘round these parts.
“I’d like to have a margarita, extra salt,” she told the barpony.
“Very well. That’ll be five bits.”
Little Strongheart reached around in her saddlebag. “Oh, I don’t have any money…”
“Well then you ain’t havin’ a drink,” he said.
Strongheart sighed. She would need to find some sort of gainful employment if she wanted to get anywhere in this town, particularly if she wanted anywhere to stay.
She glanced around the saloon. At a table, three ponies sat playing a game of poker.
“Y’er bluffin', Dusty Trails; I can see right through ya!”
“You ain’t got nothin’ either, Braeburn,” he scoffed. “How ‘bout you, Stallion Stan?”
“I fold,” Stallion Said said.
Strongheart walked over to their table. “What is this?” she asked, looking at their cards.
“Oh, this is poker,” said Dusty Trails. “Don’t tell no one that we’re playin’ it. If Sheriff Silverstar sees--”
“What’s goin’ on in here!?” They all looked up as Sheriff Silverstar kicked in the door of the saloon, leering around at everypony.
The four ponies quickly pushed their poker chips off of the table, and Rowdy Rodeo grabbed all of the cards in his hooves. However, he was not quick enough, as Sheriff Silverstar walked over to them.
“Y’all ain’t playin’ no games of chance, are ya’?” he asked.
“Oh, uh… er, no sir!” said Braeburn, “We was just playin’ fifty-two card pickup!”
He threw his cards towards the saloon door.
“Pick ‘em up!” Braeburn yelled, and the four ponies scrambled out the saloon door.
“I better not see y’all gamblin’ again, or I’ll lock y’all away! Ain’t no gamblin’ allowed in the town of Apaloosa nor county of Durango nor state of Manetana!” Sheriff Silverstar yelled out.
Little Strongheart looked at the sheriff, perplexed. “Wait, there’s no gambling allowed?" she asked. "Why ever not? Those ponies didn’t seem to be hurting anypony else.”
“Sheriff, sheriff!” He turned around to see a mare running into the saloon. “There’s just been a robbery at the bank!”
“Quiet, you!” the sheriff called out, and the mare shrunk back.
“As I was sayin’, miss buff’lo, gamblin' is the source of all evil! If ya’ get into debt gamblin’, then you might lose your possessions, then ya might gamble some more, then ya might get in a gunfight, and then there’s nothing but anarchy!” He stomped his hoof into the ground.
“But, there was just a…” Little Strongheart said.
“I ain’t about to let this town turn into an anarchistic free-for-all!”
A stallion ran into the saloon. “Sheriff, Poco the Pony just shot up the Cooper’s house and swore he’d exact his vengeance upon--”
“QUIET!” the Sheriff yelled. “Can’t you see I’m in the middle‘a somethin’ here!?”
The stallion shrunk back.
“As you can see, busting this small-time gambling operation is the best use of police resources!” the sheriff said.
Little Strongheart thought on this for a moment, and then the Chief's words came back to her. "Don't forget who you are, and where you come from.”
She smiled, and asked, “What if there were no illegal gambling in Appleloosa?”
“Then I’d be out of a job,” said the Sheriff, “As you can see, there’s nothin’ else better for me to do.” He walked out of the saloon, his head held high, as a stray bullet from a gunfight shot his hat right off of his head. He continued to walk along as if nothing happened, and Little Strongheart chuckled.
She had an idea.
*****
Chief Thunderhooves tapped his hoof on the ground repeatedly as Little Strongheart ran up to the teepee in the buffalo encampment.
“So, I see that you have realized the folly of your little excursion,” he said, chuckling. “Back already, eh? That should teach you a lesson about--”
“Chief, may I purchase a plot of land on the Buffalo Reservation?”
He paused for a moment. “Why would you want to own land? This is tribal land; all of our people are free to use it. We are a nomadic people.”
“It’s just a plot of land right near Appleloosa, and it’s sandwiched in between Appleloosa and Dodge Junction. It’s right on the south side of where the train tracks run, and I doubt we’ll be stampeding over there anytime soon,” she said. She retrieved a map and showed Chief Thunderhooves the land that she was talking about. There was a small part of the Buffalo Reservation which jutted out in between the two towns, which the train tracks ran through.
“Oh, that? Yes, that’s a border irregularity. But why would I let you have it? Useless or not, it is still our land, and we have fought long and hard to keep what little Buffalo Reservation land that we have. We’ve fought to keep it open for our stampeding and apple hunts, and I’m not about to give that up!”
“Won’t the Equestrians just take it from us eventually, anyway? Just as they drove us off of the land where Appleloosa now sits, and the land where Dodge Junction sits?” Little Strongheart asked.
“Hmm. Yes, they have demonstrated that they have no problem taking our land from us, and breaking their own treaties when it suits them,” answered the Chief.
“What if I told you that if you gave me this land and let me build on it, great wealth will come to our people, and the ponies will never try to drive us off of our land again?”
“I’m listening…” he said, and Little Strongheart told him of her plan.
*****
Several months later
“Come to the new Buffalo Casino! The only legal gambling in all of Manetana! Dozens of poker tables! Slot machines galore!”
The advertisements in the Appleloosa Applevine and the Dodge Junction Daily told of a magnificent place where ponies could come and gamble to their hearts’ content without fear of legal repercussion.
Braeburn glanced up from his newspaper. “Could it be true?” he asked.
“Of course. If the newspaper printed it, I reckon it'd hafta be true!” said Dusty Trails.
“Well, what’re we waitin’ for?” said Stallion Stan. The three ponies walked out of the door of the saloon and over towards the train station. The train was packed as ponies eager to visit the new casino all got on.
*****
Sheriff Silverstar glanced up from his newspaper. His eyes widened and he scowled.
The glass window to his office shattered as yet another stick of dynamite crashed through. It was thrown by one of the dreaded Poco the Pony’s henchponies, and meant to assassinate the sheriff. The fuse on the dynamite sizzled as it slowly burned away.
Sheriff Silverstar started, “Those… damn…”
The wick on the dynamite slowly shortened as it readied to explode.
“...Buff’lo! Tryin’ ta break our gamblin’ laws!” he said, running out of his office just as the stick of dynamite exploded.
He did not glance behind him at the explosion, because his mind was occupied with the sole mission of bringing the scofflaw buffalo to justice.
*****
“Welcome, welcome! May I take your hat, sir? Your coat, madam?”
Little Strongheart stood in the lobby of the newly-finished Feathered Headdress casino. It wasn’t much, but it did have a few dozen slot machines, five poker tables, and a bar stocked with a good assortment of liquor.
Chief Thunderhooves, upon hearing of Little Strongheart’s plan, decided to give the land to Little Strongheart on the condition that she pay it back as soon as her casino turned a profit. Upon securing loans from other members of the tribe, she cobbled together enough money to start the casino.
She walked around, smiling upon seeing the dozens of ponies having a good time gambling.
“Yee-haw! I won!” Braeburn boasted, hoarding a giant stack of poker chips over to his side of the table as Dusty Trails and Stallion Stan frowned.
“Wow, this place is great!” Little Strongheart turned around to see Cherry Jubilee walking over to her, a cigarette hanging from her mouth and a margarita in her hoof.
“I swear, they keep raising cigarette prices over in Grand Junction. You can’t even smoke ‘em anywhere, either. But here, I can get ‘em for a bit per pack and not have to stand out in the cold! And the alcohol’s cheap too!”
“Glad you’re enjoying yourself,” said Little Strongheart.
“Now off to play some slots,” Cherry Jubilee said, sitting down with her smokes and her booze at a slot machine and thereby completing her trifecta of vices.
Suddenly, however, the fun level in the room was brought down to near zero as Sheriff Silverstar busted down the door. He held his six-shooter in his mouth and fired it up into the air, breaking a chandelier.
“Y’all think ya can gamble like this? Turn off those slot machines! Do y’all even have a liquor licence? Dump out that booze!”
He ran over to the bar and smashed a bottle over the buffalo bartender’s head in a feat which even Carrie Nation would call cruel.
He ran over to the slot machine at which Cherry Jubilee sat. He ripped the cigarette from her mouth and snapped it in half.
“Put that out! You can’t smoke indoors no more; it’s illegal! Don’t y’all know secondhand smoke’s a killer?”
At that exact moment, somewhere off in the distance, Poco the Pony shot a cattle rancher execution style in the forehead for daring to not pay his protection money.
“If gambling, drinking, and smoking are so terrible, then what are you doing here, Sheriff?” Little Strongheart chuckled. “You can’t just leave?”
“Because, I’m the law! Gamblin’ destroys lives and families!” he yelled, running around to the slot machines and pointing his gun at ponies, ordering them off. He continued until he reached the rear of the casino, where a solitary, towering white alicorn sat at a slot machine, watching as the numbers spun around and around. She glanced up, her hypnotic trance broken by the killjoy sheriff.
Princess Celestia smiled at Sheriff Silverstar, not even noticing the gun. “Oh, hello, Sheriff Silverstar! This place is great, huh? And totally legal, too! I promised the buffalo that they could do what they wanted on their reservations, after all.”
“But… but…” he started.
“Say, have you caught the notorious Poco the Pony yet? I hear he and his band of outlaws are making quite a mess of things over in Appleloosa.”
“Uh, no, but we’re workin’ on it,” he said, gazing down at the floor and not looking the Princess in the eye.
“You sure? I mean, I know you’re the only sheriff in the town, so if you need Princess Luna and I to send some royal guards in to help with law enforcement, we certainly can,” she offered, smiling.
“No, it’s fine…” he said, dejected. "I guess now I actually have to go back to doing my real job.”
He sauntered out of the casino, the ponies all laughing in his face as they returned to their games. Tears streamed down the sheriff’s face as he left, dejected and ashamed that he had failed in his attempt to destroy the joy in others' lives.
Outside, he gazed at the flashing lights and the neon signs illuminating the front of the Feather Headdress casino.
He gritted his teeth. Someday, he thought, You will be gone.
