Big McIntosh lowered his head and dragged the heavy plow behind him. He dug his hooves into the dry dirt, muscles strained, teeth clenched, eyes tightly closed. The hard, packed earth made progress difficult, and he was nowhere near where he had hoped to be by this time of the day. The sun rose steadily in the sky, and judging by the shadows, it was nearly noon.
The blade moved six inches before connecting solidly with a large rock. The stallion jerked to a stop, uttering a startled and annoyed grunt as he did so.
“Gol' dangit!” he hissed, wriggling out of his harness. He walked back to the plow and took hold of one of the long handles with his teeth to pull it away from the offending stone.
Anger rumbled inside him. This was the third stone in an hour. Each time one appeared he had to stop, disconnect his harness, pull the plow away, dig the stone out – which sometimes took a frustratingly long time – and haul it off the field, reattach the harness, and continue on. Sometimes he only got another few inches before the plow found the next stone. His entire morning seemed to be nothing but a series of starts and stops.
When the plow wouldn't budge, Mac moved in front and shoved the frame with his shoulder. Still the blade remained stubbornly stuck in the dry, compacted soil.
The very earth seemed determined to hinder his work today.
Mac's upper lip curled and he growled at the stuck tool. The frustration and rage building from the difficult morning boiled over, and he bucked the air, snorting in anger and stamping his massive hooves.
In a fit of fury he turned and kicked the plow, dislodging it and sending it flying sideways. It landed five feet from where it had struck the stone, coming to rest on its side with two perfect stallion hoof-shaped dents in the metal.
Mac growled again, louder this time, before sitting heavily on his haunches. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, held it, then let it out in a long, controlled exhale.
That was not one of his better moments.
“Well, guess I don't have to ask how it's goin' out here.”
Mac opened his eyes and dropped his shoulders with a sigh.
Oh not now, AJ, he thought. Don't start.
“Thought you'd be further along by now,” Applejack said as she stopped right behind her older brother. “What's up?”
“Rocks,” he grunted, getting back to his feet and heading toward the downed plow. He righted it, then moved to the latest speed bump and started digging with his hoof.
“This field always was more rock garden than good plantin' land,” she said, shaking her head. “Never really could get anythin' to grow.”
Mac said nothing. His hoof continued to peck away at the dry soil around the rock.
Silence hung between them for a few moments, the only sound being Mac's hoof against the hard earth. He kept his attention on the task at hand, and honestly didn't know his sister was still there until she spoke again.
“You want some help?”
“Nnope.”
“You sure?”
“Eeyup.”
The silence returned as the sun climbed to the highest point in the sky. Their shadows were almost non-existent now, and the full heat of midday bore down on the red stallion. Sweat dripped from his muzzle, and he shook his head to flick away the saltwater drops.
“Here,” Applejack said as she placed a bucket of water in front of him. “Thought you'd be thirsty. Best have a drink b'fore you pass out from the heat.”
Mac stopped digging and looked up at his sister. She looked back, brows drawn, her face unreadable.
“Thanks,” he said, dropping his head to drink directly from the wooden container. The cool water felt heavenly against his hot, chapped muzzle. He drank slowly, until the bucket was almost empty.
“Better?” his sister asked.
He smiled. “Eeyup,” he said with a short nod, wiping his mouth with a foreleg.
“Good.”
The two stood there for a minute, awkwardly looking at each other. Something hung between them, something dark, heavy, and unspoken, and Mac cleared his throat.
“Best get back to work,” he said in his slow drawl as he turned his back to his sister to finish digging. The rock was nearly free, and with luck he may be able to finish this row before sundown.
“Mac?”
“Hmm?”
“Why this field?”
Mac's hoof stopped, hung in midair.
There it was. The question he knew would come eventually.
Applejack wasn't stupid, she knew the farm better than anypony. Maybe even better than him. She had seen him come out here, year after year. And she was right – nothing really grew in this field, even when he was been able to turn the soil properly. All in all, it seemed like a waste of time and energy to work on it.
“Other fields are done,” he said, resuming his digging. His heart raced.
Drop it AJ, he mentally pleaded. Don't make me say it.
“I know you finished th' others,” she said, her voice tinged with slight annoyance. “That's not what I'm talkin' about an' you know it. There's plenty of other plots around here you could work on, an' would grow better to boot, but you always come back to this one. Why?”
Mac didn't answer. He stood with his back to her, staring at the rock below him.
“C'mon big brother,” she said, her voice softer. “Talk to me. Every year, you work yourself night an' day for the few measly sprouts this land'll give. Now, I've asked you about it, an' every year you always hemmed an' hawed your way out of an answer. I let you be, b'cause I thought you'd talk to me when you were ready. But you never did. I just wanna know what's goin' on.”
He closed his eyes. He didn't want to say it. Didn't want to tell her.
“Mac.”
He shook his head slightly. He wished he were better at lying, so he could just make something up and get her off his back.
“Mac.”
More insistent this time. The annoyance was back in her voice now, but another emotion simmered just below it. He knew her well enough to recognize the there-but-barely-contained anger lurking beneath. She could sometimes have a short fuse, and the two of them had gone a few rounds in the past over disagreements.
“MAC!”
Her mood was unmistakable, and the stallion's anger suddenly flared in response. His brows drew together and he ground his teeth.
So what if he tended to a seemingly useless field every year? He had finished all his work, made sure the rest of the farm was taken care of. If he wanted to waste hours and energy turning rock-infested soil, it was his business!
“B-back off, A-a-applejack!” he bellowed as he turned on her. “It's n-n-n-none of your b-b-business!”
Applejack flinched at his anger, her ears flicking backward momentarily. “Mac, what in tarnation's got you so upset? Would you jus' talk to me!”
“I don't w-w-wanna t-t-t-talk!” he said, and growled in frustration. His stutter usually flared up when he got mad or upset, worsening the more emotional he became. Now he felt as though the words were bunching up in his mouth, tripping over his tongue on their way out. “J-j-j-just g-g-go--”
The rest of his command was lost as his stutter twisted his tongue and trapped the words in his throat. After stammering for a full minute, he ground his teeth and snorted loudly in anger and frustration.
“I ain't goin' anywhere,” she said, her voice calm. “Not with you like this.” She sat on her haunches, her face set.
“I'm f-f-f-f-FINE,” he hissed through gritted teeth.
She shook her head. “Sure don't sound fine to me.”
He glared at her, snorting in anger. She looked back, unmoved by his icy stare.
“Don't you give me that look,” she said, shaking her head. “I know you better 'n anypony. Now, way I see it, you've got two choices. You can either keep gettin' yourself all worked into a tizzy, or you can just tell me what's goin' on.”
He snorted again in response, not trusting himself to speak.
“I guess tizzy it is, then.”
Mac growled, turning his back to her. “G-g-go aw-way.”
“I think you know me better 'n that,” she said, walking around to sit in front of him. “Look, I'm sick of watchin' you work yourself so hard out here, for no real return. What in Equestria is your obsession with this field?”
He looked at her, his expression slowly dissolving from frustrated anger to more of a pleading sadness. His head shook back and forth slowly.
“Tell me,” she said gently. “C'mon Mac. Please.”
Mac closed his eyes and sighed. His head drooped, and when he spoke next, Applejack had to strain to hear him.
“It's Pa.”
His sister was quiet for a moment. “Go on.”
“Y-you were jus' a l-l-little filly, an' prob'ly don't r-r-remember. He t-tended this field e-every year,” the stallion said, speaking slowly, and deliberately. His voice was soft. He would not look at his sister. “Mama w-would say the s-s-same thing you did. That it w-wasn't w-worth the effort. But Pa kept at it.”
Applejack smiled. “Daddy could be mighty stubborn when he set his mind to somethin'.”
“I a-asked him about it once. How c-come he spent so much t-time on a field that seemed more rock than dirt? He said to me, 'Well, Big Mac, sometimes the best things take a little extra effort. A little extra love. Sometimes it takes some sweat, an' time, an' hard work to reveal the true beauty in somethin'. O' course, sometimes it's jus' a rocky, dead field that won't give more 'n a few weeds for your trouble. But you jus' don't know 'til you try. That's the beauty in workin' the land.'”
The siblings were quiet for a moment, each absorbing the weight of the memory. Applejack stared off into the distance, while Mac poked at the hard ground with the tip of his hoof.
“I keep at this field for Pa,” he said, his voice quiet, head still lowered. “He saw something in it. Something worthwhile. I was gonna help him work it once I got a little bigger, but . . .” He trailed off. “I wanted to . . . to finish for him.”
Applejack was quiet a for a moment, and when she spoke next, her voice was soft and gentle. “Why didn't you ever tell me? Why was it such a big secret?”
He shrugged. “Didn't feel right to talk about it b'fore. Felt like I should do it myself. Like it was something b'tween me an' Pa.” He lifted his head and looked out over the barren field. “But it almost feels like the ground doesn't want me to finish. Like it's fightin' me. Can't explain it proper, but--”
“Maybe it is,” Applejack said as she moved to sit on her haunches next to him.
He offered her a raised eyebrow.
“We're earth ponies, Mac,” she said, shrugging. “You know very well our moods can have an impact on the crops. Maybe the ground didn't want to cooperate until you were ready to talk about it.”
He considered this. “Maybe.” He sighed. “Still feel like I'm lettin' Pa down.”
“Mac,” Applejack said, pushing her shoulder into his. “You're not lettin' anypony down. Ain't your fault the rocks are workin' their way up like that. Daddy would'a prob'ly had the same trouble.”
Mac didn't respond. He gazed across the field, lost in memory.
“I used to come an' watch him work,” he said softly. “I was too little to really help then, but I would sit an' just watch as he went back an' forth, draggin' that plow, ripping grooves in the ground. There were less rocks then, but I would help dig 'em up an' drag 'em off when he hit one.”
He looked back at the plow, squinting at the sunlight reflecting off the top of the blade.
“He would let me try to pull it. He'd hook me up, an' I'd pull an' huff an' dig my hooves in to try an' move that thing. He always made it look so easy. I couldn't budge it a single inch. But he'd laugh an' say 'One day, my Big McIntosh, you'll move that plow quicker 'n me. Then we'll get another an' we'll have these fields done in half the time with both of us goin' at 'em!'”
Big Mac closed his eyes, feeling the tears build behind the lids.
“Wish he could'a seen me pull that plow. Just once.”
Applejack rested her head against her brother's neck. Mac turned slightly, leaning against her. They sat like that for a long moment, silently offering each other love, strength, and support.
“Daddy would be so proud of you, Mac,” Applejack said quietly. “Even if you never pulled a plow, he would still be proud. You grew up honest an' true, an' you always do what's right. You work the farm day in an' day out, but more important, you're always there for your family. Nothin' was more important to Daddy than his family.”
Mac said nothing, but opened his eyes and looked down at his sister. She opened her eyes and looked up at him, offering a small smile. He returned it, wrapping a foreleg around her shoulders and giving a tight squeeze.
“I'm glad you came out here, Applejack.”
“I'm glad you told me about Daddy. I miss them.”
“Me too.”
After a quick hug, the two separated. Mac wiped his eyes with a foreleg, as Applejack stood and took a few steps toward the plow.
“Wow,” she said, running a hoof over the dents Mac had made. “That's actually pretty impressive.”
Mac blushed. “Not my best moment.”
“Your stutter's gone.”
“Eeyup.”
“I noticed it disappeared about the time you started talkin' about Daddy,” she added gently. “How do you feel?”
The stallion got to his feet. “Better,” he said, walking toward his sister. “Thanks.”
The two siblings looked around themselves, at the work left to be done in the field.
“Tell you what, Mac,” Applejack said, walking to the nearly-empty water bucket. “Let's go to the house an' get some grub. Then we'll come back out an' get down to work. With two of us, it'll go faster.” She paused, turning back. “If that's okay. Would you rather still do it by yourself?”
Mac looked at his sister for a moment, before a small smile curled his lips.
“Nnope,” he said, walking next to her. “'Preciate the help. I think Pa maybe would'a wanted it that way.”
Applejack smiled and offered him a short nod. She picked up the bucket's handle in her mouth, and the two started walking back toward the house at a leisurely pace.
Slowly, without conscious thought, their gait quickened. They exchanged a glance, a sly smile curling their lips, and a glint in their eyes. Suddenly they bolted, running flat out in a race for the house. Applejack dropped the bucket, her mane and tail horizontal behind her as she ran. Mac dropped his head, moving his powerful legs as fast as they would go.
The sun was high, the trees full, and shadows danced on the ground. Two ponies galloped across fields, over hills, and through trees. They ran until their ribs and legs ached, and ran some more. They were full of life, and laughed as they went.
Mac felt as though a weight had been lifted from his heart. All these years, his sadness and sense of duty had kept him at that field. Today that dark cloud lifted. Maybe, with Applejack's help, the field would actually come to life. Maybe.
