Chapter 4: The Morning After

Bic Macintosh returned from the market early in the day, humming a tune to himself, two large sacks of oat flour and one of sugar slung across his back, a smaller burlap bag dangling from his mouth. He happily breathed in the heady smell of warm bread, fresh from Sugarcube Corner.

A lot of ponies didn’t give Big Mac much credit for being quick on the uptake, since he was so quiet all the time. What they didn’t know was that the brain power Mac saved on talking was spent taking in everything around him. The currents of the wind, the shifting of the sun, the taste of an unscheduled storm on the horizon… all of these things were part and parcel of running a farm on the edge of Everfree. Long years of listening to Granny’s lessons on nature’s signs, and his father’s explanations of which signs were magic, and which were nature being itself, had taught Mac well, and sometimes Applejack would brag that he knew exactly how many blades of grass were on Sweet Apple Acres and when that number changed.

Mac just thought of it as being prudent. Just like it was prudent to run into town before breakfast for flour and sugar for the apple-oatmeal cookies Granny was going to want to make later. She always wanted to make them when company came over, and Mac had a feeling exactly that was going to happen. No particular reason, it just seemed that way to him, when he woke up early in the morning, while even the rooster was still sleeping.

When he came up to the path leading up to the Acres, Mac realized his hunch had been right. There were two sets of fresh hoofprints there, hoofprints that were shoed. Both of them were on top of his, and one on top of the other, the mud beneath them still fresh, where the other set had begun to dry out.

Mac shrugged his shoulders and kept on walking up to the house. He’d find out who it was soon enough.

Meanwhile, up at the house, Granny Smith was puttering around the kitchen while Applejack scrambled around her to get breakfast together.

“Ah’m tellin’ ya, Silverstar, Braeburn ain’t been in Ponyville since the last reunion,” Granny rasped out, squinting at a jar in the cupboard. “Landsakes, Applejack, what are you doin’, keepin’ arsenic in the cupboard with the spices?” She demanded, looking back her granddaughter.

“Arse-“ Applejack rushed over to look at the jar and sighed. “That’s allspice, Granny. Not arsenic. That’s out in the woodshed along with the Everfree’s Mercy.”

“Everfree’s Mercy?” Sheriff Silverstar asked dubiously, raising an eyebrow.

“It’s a plant out in the Everfree Forest, with bright red berries, a mite like cherries,” Applejack explained. “Granny uses it when one of us splits a hoof or needs patchin’ up, but we keep it in th’shed on account of not wantin’ t’take it by mistake. The arsenic’s fer varmints; don’t let it get around we use it fer that, though, Fluttershy’d be mighty upset, an’ we only use it fer particularly persnickety cases.” She took the Sheriff’s nod as sufficient explanation and pressed on.

“Now, why would you come all th’way out here lookin’ fer Braeburn? Reckon he’d be more likely t’run off with the buffalo than t’come out here.”

“Buffalo come back through Appleoosa every year, Miss Applejack,” Silverstar sighed. “An’ Ah reckon Braeburn ain’t plannin’ on comin’ back.”

“Oh Celestia,” Granny sighed. “Girl got herself spotted ag’in, di’n’t she?”

“Granny!” Applejack scolded.

“What? Ah’m just sayin’ what we all know already, lookin’ at Sil! Ah know you an’ Mac humor her, girl, but parts is parts! Can’t blame me fer callin’ a spade a spade, even if it is fixin’ t’be a plow! Besides, Ah reckon th’folks out in Appleoosa wouldn’t be so cross as they were back in Tall Tale.”

“Granny, they tried –“

“Granny Smith, Miss Applejack? Please, Ah reckon Ah need y’all t’focus. Braeburn’s in some mighty serious trouble. Yes, he,” he emphasized the word for Granny’s benefit, “got spotted, but that ain’t the half of it. One of the stallions what did the spottin’ was already fixin’ t’split his head when it happened, on account of his bein’ told somethin’ that weren’t quite true. When Brae took off, he went a’chasin’, an’ when Ah caught up with him….” Silverstar sighed and shook his head.

“It looked like Brae’d given him a good solid buck t’the noggin’,” he said softly, so that Apple Bloom wouldn’t hear if she’d started down the stairs. Granny and Applejack both froze hearing that.

“Sheriff, Ah reckon if this feller was lookin’ t’hurt Braeburn, he had it comin’,” Applejack said solemnly. “Mighty sorry for ‘im, an’ Ah hope he gits better, but –“

“Ain’t no gittin’ better from this sorta buckin’, ma’am. Split his head clean open. Ah reckon you’re right about him havin’ it comin’, but Ah’ve gotta bring Braeburn back until we git things sorted out, an’ they said at the station that he hired a private coach t’bring him to Ponyville. Ah figured he was probably comin’ out here. Ah followed on the train, hoped Ah might beat him out here, but he had a few hours head start by the time they had a new dray lead picked out an’ all. “

For once, Applejack was glad she was the Element of Honesty. It helped in situations like this, when you had to convince somepony you were telling the truth.

“Well, we ain’t seen ‘im,” Applejack told him, looking him in the eyes without a hint of difficulty.

“An’ ah reckon we ain’t gonna see him,” Granny said firmly, not hestitating to use the preferred pronoun this time. “He’d know better than t’come out these parts if’n he’s in trouble with the law! Why, you can see Canterlot from here, an’ he knows AJ couldn’t fib t’keep her own head on her shoulders, let alone his!”

The front door swung open, and Macintosh stepped into the house.

“Went into town fer s’me s’pplies, Gr’nny,” he called back around the bag in his mouth. “Reckon we got comp’ny comin’. They had some fresh oat bread out at Sugarcube Corner too, picked it up for breakfast!”

“Thank ‘e, Macintosh, bring it out here,” Granny called back to him. Silverstar raised a hoof to his lips and stepped back into a corner of the room. Granny scowled at him and shook her head.

Mac walked into the room, not noticing Silverstar as he sat the bag down on the table, then sat to let the huge sacks slide off of his back.

“Picked up some supplies fer your oatmeal-apple cookies,” he explained to Granny. “Anypony been by the house?”

AJ’s eyes twitched involuntarily back towards the corner, and Mac followed them to see Silverstar trying to hide there without looking like he was hiding.

“Howdy, Sheriff,” Mac said evenly, waving a hoof. “Braeburn holdin’ down th’fort back in Appleoosa?”

“Afraid not, Mac,” Silverstar sighed, stepping out of the corner. “Don’t suppose you saw him in town, did you? Maybe that company you reckoned was coming?”

“Eenope.” Mac sat down at the table, the better to get out of the way of his grandmother and sister. “Ain’t seen ‘im since th’last reunion, an’ not as long as Ah’d’ve liked then.”

“Hah!” Granny cackled, shaking her head as she went about starting breakfast. “Applejack, you git some butter out’f the fridge fer that bread. Sheriff, y’might as well stay for breakfast. Maybe the coach ain’t gotten here yet. They don’t always go as quick as trains, what with not havin’ bridges an’ engines an’ all them new-fangled magic geegaws and gimcracks built in ‘em.”

“I suppose that’s possible,” Silverstar granted, taking a seat himself. “If’n y’d care for any help, ma’am?”

“Nope, nope, Ah reckon as long as Applejack kin handle the runnin’, we’re set,” Granny said dismissively.

“What’s wrong with Braeburn, Sheriff?” Mac asked him.

Silverstar turned to look at his neighbor at the table. He hadn’t seen Mac since he was a teenager, but that deep baritone still spoke of the simple, honest farmer he’d been back then. There wasn’t a hint of fear in those bright green eyes, just concern for family that might be in trouble.

“He got in some trouble back in town, Mac. Got outed in front of half of Appleoosa, an’ then chased down by a pissed off rail-dray. Seems the fight got a mite… serious,” he explained, not wanting to go into details again. “Far as Ah know he’s fine, but Ah’ve gotta get him back t’town t’face a jury fer what happened. Ah don’t reckon it’ll be bad as all that, but… well, Ah’m worried about ‘im, ah don’t mind admittin’ it.”

“Ah’d be worried too,” Mac said darkly, frowning in thought as he looked away from the Sheriff. “Juries don’t take kindly t’ponies like him. If’n they even git juries.”

“Now Mac,” Silverstar protested, “Appleoosa ain’t like that! It ain’t Tall Tale, or the ol’ farmsteads outside of Fillydelphia an’ Manehattan! Ah made sure ah didn’t take anypony like that with us!”

Mac looked back at Silverstar evenly. He could see the conviction in Silverstar’s eyes, that he was right. He could see the worries that he was wrong too, leaking through the cracks. And something else, something... more personal.

“Sheriff, if he walked through that door right now, what would you want me t’do about it?” Mac asked. “Tackle ‘im for you? Or punch you so hard y’couldn’t tell what way the door was until he was out of town, because you know Appleoosa’s gonna be mighty sore about this for a long time?”

Silverstar was quiet for a long moment as the sounds of cooking filled the kitchen, the scent of oats, cinnamon, and apples as Granny ripped open one of the bags and started mixing batter while breakfast cooked.

“Mind if’n ah don’t answer until after Ah’ve had some vittles in me?” He finally answered quietly.

Mac snorted and shook his head, settling down with a sigh.

“Frankly, Sheriff, ah don’t think it’s a worry. Braeburn ain’t comin’ here. He knows you’d check with family first of all. Ah reckon he just caught the coach here so he could get a train somewhere else, somewhere they don’t know ‘im.”

“Breakfast’s ready,” Applejack called upstairs to Apple Bloom. She returned to the kitchen and put a bowl of fresh, hot cream gravy, speckled with pepper and herbs, into the middle of the table. A tray of butter and large plate of fresh biscuits were next to join the still-warm oat bread. A plate of apples, green with patches of light red, followed. Silverstar chuckled when he saw them, shaking his head slightly.

“Sundance?”

“Eeyup,” Mack nodded. “Fresh harvest from yesterday. Actually, AJ, Granny, Ah’ve already gotten mahself geared up t’work, headin’ into town. If’n y’all don’t mind, Ah’ll take a mine t’go, and git started fixin’ up the old plow. Reckon it’s near time t’clear the truck garden for squash.”

“Macintosh Apple, we have a guest,” Granny scolded him. “Unexpected, but all the same, t’ain’t right t’leave a meal when we have company!”

“It’s all right, Granny,” Silverstar said dismissively. “Reckon Ah wouldn’t care t’eat with somepony fixin’ t’lock up Braeburn myself, if our places were switched. Right, Mac?” He asked understandingly. Mac just stood up and shrugged, snagging the bag he’d had the bread in earlier and loading in some biscuits and apples.

“Eenope,” Mac said simply, breaking off a hunk of the bread and dipping it in the gravy, tossing that into his mouth before he started for the door. While he chewed, he had a chance to think, to work things over in his head.

Mac swallowed his quick breakfast, selecting a stalk of tall grass and biting it off with practiced ease, rolling it around with his tongue so he could chew on the end of it. He turned down the path leading out to the barn, and glanced down at the well-trod dirt there. He couldn’t be sure, but he was almost certain that the second set of hoofprints he’d noticed, the only set that trailed back to the barn, was Braeburn’s.

There were days he was a mite jealous of the extra attention Applejack got, being the Element of Honesty and all. Today wasn’t one of them thought. Applejack was too honest for her own good some days, and certainly too honest for Braeburn’s good right now. If she did see Braeburn, she’d have a hard time not telling Silverstar about it.

Oh, she’d mean well, of course. Send him back home to work things out. Clear things up. Appleoosa wasn’t like Tall Tale, they wouldn’t try to lynch him as some sort of a freak. But juries could be fickle things, country juries more than most. The least hint they’d misjudged you, and decades of trust could be pissed away in a flash.

Mac heaved a mighty sigh as he reached the barn, and walked on past the plow, dulled by the spring planting and in need of sharpening. He opened up the door to the barn, and tossed the bag of biscuits he’d brought out with him down to the floor. He picked up the whetstone in his pastern, looking around the quiet of the barn, ears twitching faintly as they picked up each and every sound.

“Brought you some breakfast,” he called out to the seemingly empty structure. “Ah won’t be back in until the Sheriff’s gone. We’ll talk then, Braeburn.”

With that, he turned around and walked back out, closing the door behind him. There was silence for a few minutes more, but then a soft sound echoed through the otherwise abandoned building.

It was the sound of a mare trying hard to bite back a desperate sob.