Let Freedom Ring

The train back to Appleloosa made its destination as it ground against the rusty rails by the station. The somewhat familiar wave of heat hit Mac as he stepped out of the passenger car along with Marshal Cornfield. In addition, he’s noticed that the town has grown considerably larger than the last time he’s visited.

“How about we breeze in The Salt Block for now, drink up a few glasses." Cornfield asked, to which Mac nodded in agreement. "There, we can discuss what we’re getting into.” Cornfield asked, to which Mac nodded in agreement."

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“Marshal!”, sputtered a staggering pony as it tripped out the entrance of The Salt Block. “Speh me a foo bitch so ah can ha’ a drink?”

“Have another, and you’ll end up with your head up your ass, Salty.”

“My ass?! My ass, Marshal, who duh ya thin yer talkin’ to?”

“A drunkard fool, is what.” Cornfield shot back. “Now lay down somewhere else other than my hooves or I’ll throw you in the cell just for acting so damn moronic.”

Salty impetuously wobbled away muttering obscure and vague words.

“You haven’t an idea of how much the other officers deal with that buffoon. After you.” he said as he opened the saloon doors for Mac.

Business in The Salt Block was surprisingly slow for the time of the day. Few ponies were sitting in the tables spread across the creaky wooden planks, with ragtime piano music being the only thing that filled the silence.

“Morton!” Cornfield exclaimed. “Dirty up two glasses with some whiskey, if you will.”

“Those will be on me, marshal.” a unicorn insisted as he approached the two from the other side of the room. “Least I could do.”

“Why, that’s a nice gesture, Legerity.” he greeted.

“Who’s the silent fellow sitting next to ya?”

“Him? This is Big Macintosh from Ponyville. He wanted and insisted to help me on hunting down the slavers that have been traveling around the Mild West. That, and finding his sister. Is that right?”

Mac nodded his head without looking.

“Well, uh. That sounds nice.” Legerity said uncomfortably as he began to walk away. “Good luck and see you around. If you see my brother, tell him I need to see him asap, please.”

“What a shame." said Cornfield. "He sounded like he wanted to have a drink with us at first.”

“Maybe he is one of them...” Big Mac suggested.

“May be, but I’d have high doubts on that. I knew him and his brother since they grew up. Fast gunslingers, they are, too. More skilled than most of the officers around this town, even. I’m going off topic, am I?”

“Yup.”

“Ah, anyways. On the other hand, I usually did have a feeling they had a double life, always leaving town together, saying they’d either ‘go out huntin’’ or ‘to Dodge Junction’. Damn, you know what, I should’ve stopped him.”

A long-faced, slim Earth pony slid two glasses of whiskey on the bar in front of them.

“There you go, gentlecolts.” Morton said.

“Much obliged, Mr. Saltworthy.” Cornfield thanked as he carried the glass cup with his hoof and held it to Mac, as he done so. One waited for the other to announce who they would devote the drink to, but neither said anything.

“Ok then.” The marshal said when he gulped up the drink at last.

“WHOO!” he cheered when he felt the spirits kick in. “I needed that.”

“Tell me what’s this about the plan, now.” Mac urged after downing his whiskey.

“Sheriff Silverstar had me assemble a posse, or task force, if you will, mainly from the law from both Appleloosa and Dodge Junction, trying to stop this slaving crisis. Split into groups of two, we will make our way into what we’ve yet to have seen into the wilderness of the West. Since the town was founded, we have all been stringent about keeping it safe exclusively within borders, especially after that huge conflict we had with those dirty buffalo not too long ago. When we will rendezvous, well, is up to one of the groups when they get their job done.

“And I can’t believe I almost forgot, can you handle a gun?”

“I would have some practice with this...” Mac reached into his satchel to reveal a revolver with an extended barrel. Engraved onto its grip, were three red apples forming a triangular formation. “No one knew, though.”

“That is something.” Cornfield whistled in appreciation. “But just saying words won’t convince me. I’ll set up some bottles outside. See if you really can shoot.”

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Outside the back of the Sheriff’s office, six glass bottles were lined up across a wooden table. Both the Marshal and Mac faced the table onward to the spare land of the West.

“Anyways,” said Cornfield. “Basically, just shoot the bottles, stand further away, of course... No, scratch that. Let’s make this a small competition. Whoever shoots their three of the bottles first wins. Understood?”

“Eeyup.”

“Alright then.” Cornfield echoed as he removed his own gun from his holster. “Three... t-”

“Two one.” Mac quickly muffled through his mouth.

In less than 2 seconds, he fired upon the three bottles on his side of the table with three shots, causing each individual one to explode into pieces.

“.....One.” He finished with distemper. “Come now, Mr. Mac, you hardly let me get to one. And what, you actually fire with a gun in your mouth?”

“I thought that was normal.”

“It is not, whatever you think. You can stand on your two hind legs, put your hoofs on the trigger and the hammer. Plus, you don’t mess up your teeth and it’s easier to aim, in a way. The only thing about it, is that you have to remain in one place.”

“Such a burden to be a triggerpony if you’re an Earth Pony, isn’t it?”, crowed a concealed voice leaning under the shadows of another building adjacent to the saloon.

“Horn Siringo.” Cornfield addressed as he directed his gun in the voice’s direction. “How long have you been watching us? I thought Sheriff Silverstar told you to never come to town unless you bring a fugitive. You do remember that incident, right?”

“Yes, yes, I still remember, Marshal.” Horn answered as he stepped out from the shadows, displaying himself as a unicorn wearing an untidy cape, contrasting the neat mane he bared. “‘Accidentally’ killed an innocent buffalo, blood spraying all over your face and other bystanders, I remember.” Horn noticed the puzzled look of Mac.

“I’ve never seen you before, I’ll save the time and just tell you I’m a bounty hunter.”

“We put a bounty on a chosen criminal, for him or people of his type to chase down to bring them back dead.” Cornfield explained for Horn.

“That or they aren’t, the bigger the reward.”

“Some time ago, we tried to secretly have a buffalo related to Chief Thunderhooves killed. Mr. Siringo, Celestia knows why, mistook a random buffalo for him and shot it right in front of my eyes in the saloon. We were very lucky there wasn’t another controversy over that. Now, Mr. Siringo, I’d like you to go on out of here or you’ll wish that bullet you fired make a u-turn back to your brain.”

“No worries, Marshal. But expect me to see you tomorrow, I know what’s going on. Have a nice day!” He hollered as he rode himself away.

“Eh, he won’t be able to catch us.” Cornfield grumbled as he stared at Horn, who disappeared into the horizon. The Marshal put his gun back into his holster. “We’ll be a few miles away from town as soon as the sun will make the day wholly bright.”

“So how exactly will we go about?”

“Well, like I’ve said before, knowledge of what’s beyond the West is vague, and by that I meant we would only know of a couple landmarks. But ponies like bounty hunters who have explored far seen some houses or plantations, spread far apart, of course. Us, we will visit each and every one of those places for any hint of the such. And don’t you worry, Mr. Mac, if you help us do that, I will take you to rescue your sister.”

Then in a sudden motion, Cornfield kicked a glass bottle high into the air. Just as he tried to reach back into his holster, the bottle exploded in a flash.

“You have got to be kidding me.” He squinted at Mac. “I even thought I caught you off guard with that last sentence.”

“That wasn’t me.”

“Do not joke with me, Mr. Mac.”

As Mac continued to stare back, they both heard a laugh coming from the direction where Horn last headed.

“That's how good you can be if you are a unicorn!” the whooping voice echoed to them.

“Dammit, Horn, I said get out of here!” He blared back, clearly frustrated. After a pause, he cleared his throat. “Uh, sorry, I was in a bit of rage there. Say, let’s go back into the saloon?”

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The Marshal and Mac stepped back into The Salt Block. They stopped as they happened to find an Earth Pony that significantly stood out, sitting by himself at the bar.

To the Marshal, it was because it happened to be Legerity’s twin, Celerity.

For Mac’s part, it was because he was donning Applejack’s trademark hat. Sure, it looked just like a regular hat to the regular pony, but it was seeing it every day in Ponyville that made him recognize it like so.

“It’s him.” He murmured to Cornfield. “He has her hat, too.”

“Her?”

“AJ.”

“Ay-jay? I don’- oh, her, okay. Follow my lead on this one.”

Celerity sat absentminded on the stool, staring into nothingness as if he was completely isolated from the rest of the world. He flinched when he turned around to see the Marshal trot his way with an obviously mock smile on his face.

“If it isn’t one of the fastest gunslingers in the Mild.” Cornfield said. “What’ve you been up to? You know I haven’t seen you in tortoise’s age.”

“Fuckin’...” Celerity whispered before he cleared his throat. “Err, yer know, Marshal. Huntin an’ stuff, what I usually tell you.”

“I like your hat.” Mac blurted out.

“Uh yes, what this good stallion said, Celerity. That is a nice hat, where’d you get it? I don’t believe those kinds are sold here, mostly bowlers, top hats and homburgs.”

“Then I got it from Dodge. Wait, I m-”

“Then?” Cornfield repeated.

“No, I-”

“Does ‘Dodge’ mean ‘stole it from a mare named Applejack’.” Mac asked.

“So that’s what her name wa-FUCK!”

“Boy, you have a really bad way with words, don’t you?” Cornfield chuckled as he started to hold Celerity’s face into the bar. “Come now, Celerity, don’t think I never act suspicious of what you and your brother are up to.”

“I said it’s just going in and out of Dodge, Marshal!” He stuttered nervously.

“Literally five seconds ago, you stated it was hunting. Celerity, hoof me your satchel. Mr. Mac here would like a look in it. And give him your hat. And I want to hold your gun for a minute.”

In a huff, Celerity hastily gave his satchel and revolver to Mac to have AJ’s hat snatched from above his mane.

“Okay, okay. There it is! What it is that you want? Do you want money, are you tryin’ to blackmail me?!”

“Dammit, hush. Give him a second to look.”

Mac snatched the satchel and then quickly flipped it over upside-down and emptied the whole thing on the floor. Falling from the leather bag, was a sack of bits, a silver pocket watch, but more notably above all, a whip.

“You either have strange fantasies or there’s something else, son.” Cornfield bantered as he bit onto the whip and tugged onto one of Celerity’s front legs. “Mr. Mac, help me carry this fine stallion out the saloon.”

They both chucked Celerity out the saloon doors a few feet far. Making contact with the ground he landed on his back, knocking the air out of him for a moment. Cornfield trotted over to him to stomp on his hind leg, tossing over the whip to Mac with his mouth.

“Mr. Macintosh, you may have the honor.”

“My pleasure.” Mac withdrew his head, and with all his might, he lashed at Celerity with the sharp, leather tails, making the pinned pony release an atrocious scream.

“It must hurt being on the other side, don’t it? If you don’t want to get snapped again, I suggest you should actually start talking.”

“I ain’t saying sheeit about anything of it, Marshal.” Celerity growled. “Heck, now that I think of it, I woulda had my way with that bitch if it wasn’t for Legerity wanting to sell them so quick!”

Mac erupted with a loud snort, almost startling Cornfield. The Marshal shrugged and stepped off the Swift brother.

“I’m not stopping you.”

Mac went on a full-on rage on Celerity, lash after thrash. If the victim tried to turn his body over to take the pain on his back, he would quickly shift to the other side to continue with the punishment.

“I don’t know if you got the message, Celerity,” Cornfield hollered over the crying, “But this red stallion whipping your flank is the big, loving brother of that mare you and your brother kidnapped. Alright now, Mr. Mac, you’ve had enough fun with the poor colt.”

He kneeled over to the recoiling pony.

“About now, I know what you’re thinkin’. That, being is that we will try to shoot your brother to heaven to save Applejack. But, I know if we were to do that, you wouldn’t feel too happy about it, just as much as Mr. Mac wouldn’t enjoy how his sis is doing. So if you don’t want that, I want you to take us to Legerity.”

“Not likely, Marshal Corn-Field! Because of the commotion we started, s’likely he’s fled to a train to Dodge right now to the homestead we live in.”

“And where is that supposed to be?”

“You’d have to go travel long ways south of there until you find some hulking rocks with a tree on top. Y’know, it’d be simpler if you had me take you there.”

“No, don’t trust you enough. You’ll might lure us into a trap, which might happen anyways, but I don’t give a damn because you annoy me. Mac, whip him again.”

Mac positioned his body to attack Celerity once again, making the latter flinch and scream once more.

“Ah ah! I didn’t really mean it this time! Now help me carry him to Silverstar’s office. About time for us to get a rest after this long day.”