The Assassination of Braeburn by the Coward Dirty Rich
The Assassination of Braeburn by the Coward Dirty Rich
The door creaked open, expelling the scent of freshly baked pies into the evening air. A little, pale-yellow filly peered up at me, unafraid and curious.
“Can ah help you with somethin’ mister?” she squeaked, her high-pitched voice not mixing well with the country accent.
I smiled as warmly as I could, standing as I was in the brisk shadows cast by sunset. Part of me wanted to push straight past the filly and into the toasty house, but if legends were to be believed, such an action could have very well spelled my doom. “I’m here to meet with Miss Applejack.”
Immediately, her eyelids lowered halfway. “Oh,” she said in a bored tone. “Prob’ly some business asso-shee-at, ain’t ya?”
“Not quite. I’m an independent investigator attempting to—”
“Ah don’t need yer gibberish. Hold up a moment and ah’ll get mah sis.” The filly rolled her eyes and stepped back inside, closing the door.
I adjusted my suit, somewhat offended at being treated so rudely. Of course, all it took was the distant baaing of some sheep to remind me where I was. I decided to relax my standards, if only for an evening. These ponies weren’t the first of their kind I had spoken to in recent days, but hopefully they would be the last. Everything I had found pointed me here, to a mare named Applejack. Maybe she could finally give me the full story.
The door opened once more, this time revealing a mare the same height as me. She had a slightly dirty-looking orange coat, and her blonde mane was tied back, both signs of a hardworking pony. Her eyebrows rose at my suit. “Uh, ah don’t do business after dark. ‘Specially not with strangers.”
I shook my head. “I’m not a businesspony.” Learning from my mistake before, I kept things simple. “I’m just looking for the truth.”
“Truth, huh?” She chuckled. “Well ya came to the right place, dintcha? Yer lookin’ at the Element of Honesty.” Her mirth faded quickly though, and she tossed a suspicious glance my way. “What kind of truth are ya lookin’ for?”
The tension in my mind was palpable as I answered her. “What happened to Sheriff Braeburn two years ago?”
She gave me a hard, appraising look, and for a moment I thought she was going to slam the door in my face. But then, to my extreme relief, she sighed and stepped to one side. “Ya better come inside.”
I silently followed her into the house. The entry hallway was short, with two doors on either side. She pushed through the first one on the left and brought me into a family dining room. A round table with a checkered tablecloth sat in the centre of the room, with seven chairs around it. Only one of them was occupied, however, and it was by the same little filly who greeted me only a few minutes before.
“Apple Bloom, hun, why don’t ya go finish yer homework upstairs?” Applejack asked kindly, but I could see it wasn’t really debatable.
Apple Bloom gave her sister a frown, and an exchange took place that I was not privy to. After a few moments, the filly sighed and snatched her schoolbag from beneath the table, packing her things away quickly. “Fine, but ya better tell me what’s goin’ on later.”
Later being when I had left, I assumed. The awkwardness of being amongst a family of strangers was not lost on me, but I persevered. The answers were so close I could feel them.
As the younger sister left the room and Applejack began getting something out of the cupboards in the adjacent kitchen, I looked around. It seemed like a fairly standard homestead, at least from what I knew. Every piece of furniture was worn but loved, and various instances of do-it-yourself repairs were visible, from the uneven sanding of the chair legs to the plastered wall barely concealing little cracks.
The only thing that made me double-take was the rifle mounted above the doorway. I didn’t even notice it at first, situated as it was directly above the door. It was an earth pony model, with all the parts (including the barrel) made bigger to accommodate hooves. I had seen unicorn guns three times smaller than the one on the wall, but for some reason I didn’t feel like insulting it. There was a little gold-plated inscription below it, but it was too high up for me to read.
“It says Remember the Red Rule,” said Applejack through gritted teeth as she carried a tray into the room. “Jus’ a little family saying.”
It was too late to pretend I hadn’t been looking, so I just gave an interested yet noncommittal grunt in response. When I looked at what was on the tray, a flicker of excitement shot through my veins. Two mugs and a big bottle of adult cider. This was it. I was finally going to learn what happened.
She waved for me to take a seat and started pouring the drink. “Ah want ya to understand somethin’ first.” I nodded. “We country folk have always dealt with our problems in our own way. We don’t see the point of gettin’ other ponies involved if we can fix it ourselves, y’hear?” I nodded again. “So no matter what you think of us right now, ya gotta keep that in mind. We’re simple folk, and we find simple solutions.”
Applejack slid a mug over to me and sat herself down on the opposite side of the table. I took a polite sip, which turned into a gulp as the flavour washed over my taste buds. “This is very good cider,” I stated obviously, tossing the mare an appreciative smile.
“If yer hopin’ to loosen mah tongue with flattery, don’t bother. Ah’ll tell ya whatever you wanna know, but ah’ll do it my way.” She took a long drink from her mug.
“Right,” she said after a moment. “Right,” she repeated. “Okay. Braeburn. Two years ago. What do ya wanna know?”
I sipped at the cider to steady my nerves. “Why was he the Sheriff?”
“Y’all never met him, didja?” I shook my head and she did the same, only sadly. “Shame ‘bout that. You’d know if you’d met him. Kindness and structure and brains all rolled into one stallion, he was. Ya know he never asked for the job?”
“I didn’t know that.”
“Yup. The townsfolk begged him to do it ‘cause they knew he was perfect. Sure enough, he had Appleloosa in top-notch shape quicker than you can say ‘buy some apples’! We were so proud.”
“Sounds like a lot of responsibility for one pony,” I said with a frown.
The mare leaned forward, gesturing enthusiastically with her free hoof. “That’s the thing ‘bout Brae though, he didn’t see it like that. In his eyes, the whole town was his home, and he was just doing little self-repairs when he was being Sheriff.”
That sounded familiar. It wasn’t clear if Applejack realised that she shared that trait with Braeburn, but I decided not to bring it up lest she change her mind about answering my questions. “So he loved the town and the town loved him back.” I lowered my voice. “What went wrong?”
“Dirty Rich.” She spat the name like sour gum, and the corners of her mouth wrinkled in contempt.
I said nothing, waiting for her to continue. My mug sat forgotten on the table.
“You mighta heard of his brother, Filthy. Lives in Ponyville, does business with us. Friendly fella. Not Dirty, though, no sir. He was as foul as the apple that never falls, rotten to the core. He saw what a nice little life his brother had carved out over here and got jealous.” The farmpony slammed her hoof on the table. “Imagine that! Jealous of his own flesh ‘n blood!”
“Despicable,” I agreed quietly.
“So Dirty Rich came to Appleloosa one day, bringing all sorts of bad ponies with him. Real scum-of-the-earth types, ya know? The kinda ponies who spend their days in the alleys, preyin’ on the good folk.” Suddenly, a proud look crossed Applejack’s face. “But mah cousin was on top of ‘em the second they arrived. He knew who Dirty was, and what kinda ponies he travelled with. Brae marched straight up to ‘em unarmed in broad daylight, the whole town watching, and said to ‘em: This here’s a peaceful town. If y’all can swear you ain’t up to no good, ah’ll let you stay. If not, then ah’m gonna have to ask you to leave.”
I whistled appreciatively. “That would have taken guts.”
“No kiddin’!” chuckled Applejack, pouring herself some more cider. “But that was Brae in a nutshell: guts, and lots of ‘em.”
“Is that how it happened? Did they…?” I started to ask, but she was already shaking her head.
“Nope. They did somethin’ worse. Dirty looked him right in the eye, unblinking, and said: We’re just travellers looking for home, sir. Not a single troublemaker among us.” Her hooves tightened around the mug and she glared into it. “They lied straight to his face.”
There wasn’t anything I could say to that. Clearly, the idea of lying was almost a personal insult to her, the Element of Honesty. I made a mental note to watch what I said.
“Honesty in this family was tradition long before ah came along. The Apple family doesn’t lie. Never has, never will, and y’all better believe that’s the truth.”
I quickly nodded and took another polite sip of the cider. Not even the flavour could distract me from the intensity in her green eyes though. “So what did Sheriff Braeburn do?” I asked in an attempt to divert attention.
Applejack sighed and scratched the back of her neck. “Ah don’t like this part. Ya must understand, we’re trustworthy ponies, and we always expect everypony else to be the same. Braeburn… well, he believed ‘em. Took Dirty at his word and let ‘em come into the town.”
“Oh dear,” I said quietly.
She nodded gravely. “Yup. First mistake he ever made as Sheriff was lettin’ those shady folk inside, ain’t nobody gonna disagree with that.”
After a moment of silence, I couldn’t help but ask, “Why did Dirty go to Appleloosa?”
“Kinda peculiar, ain’t it? He and his brother were really more city-folk. But ah thought it over after all was said and done, and ah think ah know why.” I leaned forward and rested my hooves on the table and she did the same, hugging her mug. “His brother Filthy got his big break when he helped start Ponyville, way back before you and me were born. He got in early and made a fortune through our apples. But Dirty missed out. So for all these years, he’s been travelling, lookin’ for his own breakthrough.”
“Appleloosa!” I blurted out excitedly.
Applejack nodded. “Darn straight. He saw the little town slowly getting’ bigger and wanted to get in on it before it was too late. Must’ve thought his luck had finally turned or somethin’. But the thing is, he didn’t have the brains or patience like his brother. He didn’t know what to do with the opportunity when he had it, like when mah dog Winona chases the mailmare.”
“And that’s when things got ugly?”
“Almost. It wasn’t a sudden thing, took a good few months before he got desperate enough.”
I noticed my mug was empty somehow, and Applejack slid the bottle over to me. As I poured, a thought occurred. “Wouldn’t Sheriff Braeburn notice Dirty and his gang getting worse?”
The farmpony nodded again as I set the bottle back on the table. “Oh, he noticed alright. But that was during the Great Derailment, and he was too busy tryin’ to keep trade flowing without the trains to bother with some pesky little gang.”
“But they didn’t stay little for long, did they?”
“Yer darn right they didn’t. Without mah cousin constantly squashing them back into the dirt like the bugs they were, they got bigger, more dangerous. By the time the trains were fixed and Brae could finally turn his eyes back to the town, they were too big to handle on his own.”
I knew this part myself. “He tried anyway,” I said solemnly.
Applejack smiled sadly. “That he did. The silly pony was too brave for his own good. Do ya know how it happened?”
Every description I’d found before was vague. I needed to know. “No.”
“It was in the middle of Dirty’s latest spree, screaming through town and robbin’ good ponies of their bits. The lyin’ bastard was sitting in a bar drinking while his gang trashed the place. The good ponies ran and told Braeburn, and he realised his mistake.” The blonde-maned mare shook her head almost disbelievingly. “Ah don’t rightly know what possessed my cousin to strap on his gun and march straight to the bar, but it wasn’t common sense, lemme tell ya that!” Her voice was angry, but a tear rolled down her cheek.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered.
“Don’t be! Mah cousin died a hero, a thousand times nobler than every stallion in Canterlot!” Applejack panted and looked down so I couldn’t see her eyes. “But it still hurts. Damn, but it does.”
It went against every urge in the rational part of my mind, but it was necessary. “You don’t have to tell me the rest if you don’t want to.”
“Ah will. It’s just tough, is all.”
“Take as long as you need. I’m in no rush.” It was true, nopony expected me back for weeks.
“How ‘bout ah ask you a question? Might help me relax.”
I spread my hooves to either side. “Shoot.”
“Why’re you askin’ about this? Ah knew somepony would wanna know the whole story sooner or later, but what’s yer reason?”
“I’m an independent investigator. I only heard the story a few months ago, from a stallion in a bar. It got stuck in my mind, and I decided to see if there was any truth to it.”
“So yer not a lawpony?”
I chuckled. “Not a chance. I just like to get to the bottom of things.”
She raised an eyebrow, then shrugged. “Everypony has a hobby, ah ‘spose.” Taking a deep breath, the farmpony scrubbed at her eyes. “Alright, ah think ah can do it now. Alright, so Brae marched into the bar and went right up to Dirty and told him: You lied to me, Dirty Rich. Now how ‘bout y’all step outside and we can settle this like stallions.”
“Hot damn,” I breathed. “Did he really challenge Dirty in front of his whole gang?”
“Yer damn right he did. Dirty wasn’t about to refuse, not in front of his buddies. But he also knew he would lose if he faced mah cousin with honour. So he… he shot Brae in the back as he led the way outside. Put another two bullets into the brave fool as he fell.” Applejack wasn’t crying anymore, she was scowling. “The coward hopped up onto a table and shouted: This is my town now! We’re in charge!”
My blood was thundering through my veins. I had never felt so much anger in my life, and I had never even met Braeburn. I could only imagine what Applejack must have felt.
“And they were right. Without the Sheriff, the town didn’t know how to handle the gang. His deputies were just regular ponies, they weren’t made for fightin’. So everypony just tried to buckled down and board up when Dirty hit the streets. They were pretty much imprisoned in their own homes, can ya believe it?”
“It sounds terrifying.”
“No kiddin’, ah was terrified when ah heard the news and ah didn’t even live there. Dirty and his crew had complete control of Appleloosa. There wasn’t a single pony there who could stop ‘em. They robbed the banks, trashed the houses, ripped down everything Braeburn had worked for. Ah think that was part of why Dirty liked it so much. He really hated Brae, always saw him as the only thing preventing him from bein’ successful. So with mah cousin dead, there was nopony left in his way.”
I took a large swallow from my mug to wash away the horrible images. “But I’ve been to Appleloosa. I was there a few weeks ago. Everything was in good shape and it’s one of the busiest trade stops out there.”
Applejack drained the last of her cider. “Now this part is why ah’m glad you’re not a lawpony. Ya remember what ah told ya about how us country folk like fixin’ our own problems?” I nodded. “Well, the second we got the news, me ‘n mah brother Big Mac knew what we had to do. We sent letters out across Equestria to every Apple we remembered.” She leaned forward once more. “And that’s a lot of Apples.”
“What did the letters say?” I asked.
“Ah still have a copy of one.” She reached a hoof into her mane and withdrew a small piece of paper, offering it to me. “Ah keep it with me so ah never forget.”
I took the note and unfolded it. The writing was uneven, as earth pony notes often were, but it was still legible.
Dirty Rich in Appleloosa has forgotten the Red Rule.
Applejack continued before I could ask what it meant. “Cause ya see, we Apples have a special kinda bond. Ain’t nothin’ magical, but it’s just as powerful. If ya take one of us from the tree, the rest will come down on yer head. Simple as that.”
A chill ran down my spine as I realised what she meant.
“So we hired a couple of farm helpers to keep this place runnin’, packed up a few things and caught the next train to Appleloosa. Me and Mac hid in the town for a full two weeks until the last Apple arrived. The townsfolk knew what was comin’, and they let us all hide with them. Finally, we were all there, and it was time to fix Appleloosa.”
The mare’s green eyes focused on me intently as she began to recount the day. “Was near dawn, just before the sun came out fully. Ah was with Mac on the second story of a shop just across from the bar that Dirty had been drinkin’ in all night. The same damn bar where he gunned down Brae. About twenty-five Apples were at the windows of buildings on our side of the street, and another twenty-five were in the ones opposite us.”
She reached across the table and pulled the bottle back, refilling her mug without breaking eye contact. “Dirty and his gang swaggered out just as the sun cleared the horizon. They were laughin’ and hootin’ and talkin’ ‘bout how they were gonna burn down Brae’s old house. Ah think that’s what did it. Next thing ah knew, ah was pulling the trigger faster than mah rifle could fire. Tore Dirty’s ear off with the first shot. Ain’t never thought ah stallion could scream that high.” She chuckled darkly. “Mac fired next, put a round clean through the liar’s back legs. Both of ‘em. Then that was it. The floodgates opened and every Apple was firing down at those bastards. Couldn’t even see ‘em after the first minute, it was just a big red dust cloud. Dirty’s head rolled out of it soon enough, and ah personally put a shot straight through it. Burst like a rotten pumpkin, it did.” I felt sick, but she wasn’t done. “When the dust cleared, every single one of them was dead. Ah honestly couldn’t tell which one was Dirty, there just wasn’t enough left.”
She sipped from her mug. “After that, not a single pony spoke. Ah looked at Mac and he just nodded at me, slung his rifle over his back, and went downstairs. Ah did likewise, and so did every Apple. We just went our separate ways, by train or carriage.”
I was almost speechless. The truth was far more brutal than I had imagined, but… I found myself agreeing with this mare’s idea of country justice. They had a problem, and they fixed it themselves. End of story.
“So does anypony else know the truth besides me?”
Applejack nodded. “Yer the first ah’ve told, but word got around from the citizens who helped us. No lawponies have bothered any Apples for two years though, so ah think we’ll be fine.” She smirked and placed her mug down. “You’ll be fine too, jus’ so long as ya remember the Red Rule.”
“And what is the Red Rule?” I finally asked.
The farmpony’s expression hardened and she looked me dead in the eyes.
“Don’t fuck with the Apple family.”
