Red Dead Revisited/Growing where You're Planted

Red Dead Revisited/Growing Where You’re Planted

Jack Marston in Equestria

Chapter 3 Wanted, Dead or Alive

“But I want you to know one thing. You can say whatever you want about me. I'm a big boy. I can take it. You can say horrible, nasty things about me all day, but if I ever hear you say anything about her again, I will bleed you.” John Marshall Breathtaking

The sounds of the forest around him felt familiar. Although Jack had long since abandoned the notion that he was still on his world. The only way that would make any sense would be if he’d somehow been flung into a far future, and even then he wasn’t sure that it would have ended up like this. No, somehow that strange storm had transported him to a completely new world. He lay in an old room inside of the mansion that had been brought with them from Tumbleweed. Seth himself tended to stay away from the neighboring town, and instead he hung around the buildings that were part of Tumbleweed, and not those that belonged to a strange new world that they found themselves in.

He thought of the new world that he’d been discovering. So far he’d been here for about a month, and in that time he’d done some business with the Gryphon hen that ran the meat stall. Most of his business with her had been some of the more exotic game she’d asked about. He’d tracked, and killed, another Manticore, but he’d also managed to get a cockatrise. The creature was supposed to be able to turn anyone that looked it in the eyes into stone, and that made hunting it a bit harder than he had expected for it to. But regardless his business with her had gotten him around six hundred bits.

He’d also met a Zebra out in the Forest, and she had explained that she was something of a shaman. Naturally she’d asked him to help in gathering various plants and herbs that she couldn’t get to. He’d taken her request for what it was, and he’d begun gathering some. It wasn’t being done because of a reward, but instead he’d learned long ago that helping others out tended to lead to friendships, and that was one thing that was certainly worth more than gold.

Outside he heard the sound of distant howls, the sound of the wind sweeping across the roof of the old mansion, and of course the sound of a few owls in the distance as they hooted. He finally got up, knowing that it was far too early in the morning for anyone to be open at the market, but that didn’t matter. He made his way down the stairs of the old mansion, outside of it, and looked at the darkened land. He could see the school house just off in the distance. Like the church had been it was at the beginning of what would have been Tumbleweed.

He glanced around at the night, uncertain of what it was that was driving him to be up. It was a good couple of hours before he normally would rise, but it didn’t seem to matter much. He looked at the remains of the old sheriff’s office, which the ponies had taken and rebuilt themselves. He didn’t mind, and they explained that having a sheriff’s office would be a good thing. Apparently they had never really gotten around to building one itself, and instead their law enforcement was mostly located inside of their city hall. He walked toward it, seeing that they had done quite a bit to repair the roof, rebuild the walls in the cell, and he could see that the door on the front of the building had been repaired as well.

He began to look more at the work done when he heard the sound of someone nearby. The sound was gasping, choking, and more than a few dull thuds. It sounded very similar to someone getting beaten. He slowly made his way toward the sound, and then he saw it. There was what looked like a couple of ponies. One of them was on the ground, curled into a ball, and the other was bent over, tied to a wooden fence post. He checked his belt and found that his pistol was back at the mansion. He could go and get it, but then doing so would likely not end well for either of these two. Instead he moved silently down, watching the action, and seeing that it was a few others that had cornered and attacked the two ponies.

They were similar in height, coming at least a foot shorter than he was, and from what he could see they seemed to be fairly powerful. He studied them, seeing two with wings, one with a horn, and one with neither. He looked at the two that were on the receiving end of what looked like a beating. From what he could see the one on the ground had a horn, it looked wrong, off, and the other looked to be one with neither a horn or wings. He had only a knife and his rope with him. He hadn’t tried to fight any of the ponies before, and he surely missed his pistol.

Sneaking up he caught one with wings stepping away from the group.

“Yeah, that’ll teach ‘em for thinking that they could disrespect the boss like that,” a masculine voice said.

The fact that it was a man, or stallion rather, made things easier. He waited until he was nearly past him, and then he jumped out. He struck the stallion hard in the back of the head. The action was quick, quiet, and he caught the stumbling stallion. He quickly began tying him up, using the rope to secure his arms, legs, and wings. He then cut the section of rope off, took another small section, and wove it through the stallion’s mouth, silencing him further.

He worked his way forward, keeping quiet, making sure to not be heard, and looked for any of them breaking away. Luck seemed to favor him as the one with the horn left the group. He listened, and instantly he didn’t like what was likely going to happen. The very feminine voice was calling for someone, Wind Rider, which he supposed was the other stallion’s name. He quietly snuck up behind her, attempted to use the same tactic, and quickly remembered that the horned ones, the unicorns, had magic.

Her horn flared as she faced him, and now he missed his pistol even more.

“What in the name of Celestia’s sun are you?” she asked.

He didn’t answer, instead he jumped forward and his action was met with her hitting him with what felt like a punch from a much bigger man. He stood, shook it off, and realized that she had hit him with magic and not physical force.

“Mystic, what’s going on?” another shouted.

He had to do this quickly. There was no getting around it, he feigned left, making her set her preparation for that, and then he came at her from the right. The trick, which wasn’t a great one, gave him some leverage, but not enough to end the confrontation. He felt her magic grasp him again, but not before he was up close to her. He grabbed her horn, unsure if that was right, and felt her magic stop. She panicked, and he covered her mouth. She tried to shout, and he found that he could force her to the ground.

She was no stronger than a woman was, and she was certainly softer than he imagined. Her eyes looked panicked, but it didn’t matter. He began tying her up only to find that her magic was returning with a vengeance. He grabbed her horn again, and it stopped. He looked at her, uncertain of how to do this when he felt something. It was small, round, and he moved a hand that was holding an arm to bring it up. It looked like a brass ring, and when she saw it she began to fight harder. Realizing that it obviously meant something she didn’t want he fought with her and got the ring onto her horn. When he did, and let go, there was no magic. She tried to fight him off as he held her down and tied her up.

He gagged her, and saw the fear in her eyes. He shook his head, got up, and saw the other two. The winged one, a pegasus like the stallion, was another mare, and then there was the one that was neither. He was shorter, but the muscle on him was clear that he wasn’t a pushover. Both of them looked at him, and then looked at the unicorn lying on the ground.

“Don’t know what you are, but you sure got yourself into the wrong end of this,” the mare said.

She was quick, and she hit him hard. He felt himself flying back as she hit him. She stood over him, the darkness of the night keeping him from seeing her face fully, but somehow, due to her body posture, he was sure that she was smirking. He kicked out, catching a knee, and when he did she fell to the ground. She cried out, but he didn’t give her a chance. She was putting herself in the place of a man, so he was going to treat her like one. Sure, his pa had taught him to never strike a woman, but at this moment she was someone doing something bad to folks, and on top of that she was fighting like a man would.

The two of them hit each other, and he felt something give in her muzzle when he punched her in it. She held it, and he quickly got on top of her. Their fighting continued until he managed to get her arms behind her. He pinned them against her wings, tied his rope around her, and then tied her legs. He looked up, saw the last one trying to help the other two, and he ran and tackled him. He expected the fight to be like the others. He was wrong.

The pony hit him so hard that he nearly blacked out. He stood up to see the stallion standing there, shaking his head, and cracking his neck.

“Figure that you think you’re doing a good thing, and maybe you are,” he said.

The stallion took off a jacket, and he could see the muscle that covered him far easier. He looked at Jack and grinned.

“Just to let you know, we’re working for someone in Saddle Arabia,” he said, “And these two are running from her.”

He neared him, waiting for Jack to attack, “That mare we’ve got on the ground over there tried to steal away her prize,” he laughed, “and well she didn’t like that. We’ve been chasing them for a while now.”

He looked at the pony, “So, you’re returning a slave?”

He laughed, “I suppose so, although his life is pretty cushy compared to ours. Three solid meals a day, new clothes, practically anything he wants, and a mare that just wants him to breed her like there is no tomorrow.”

He shook his head, “I don’t cotton ta slavery.”

The stallion nodded, “Noted,” he said before he swung out.

Jack danced back, having already taken more of a beating than he had wanted, and he found himself fighting, in the dark, against a pony that was far stronger than he was. He was dancing out of the way of hits, trying to get some in of his own, and it would have likely continued until he was finally caught and beaten. Or it would have if the sound of someone shouting didn’t get the pony’s attention. He threw a punch, connecting with the stallion’s jaw. That punch caused him to stumble, and he was rewarded with a gut punch, but the voice that was shouting was now getting closer, and there were several of them.

“Oh buck me,” the stallion said as he grabbed up the winged mare, “I’ll find them again, and you, I might respect your stance, but you’ve gotten in my way. I won’t let that happen again.” With that he took off running, and the two of them disappeared toward the forest itself. He looked at his salvation and saw the stallion that it was the sheriff.

“Well, we heard some fighting, came to see what the deal was,” the sheriff said, “So, Mr. Marston, do you mind to tell me what’s going on?”

Jack looked at him, still trying to catch his breath and nodded.

“Sure, from what that fella said these two are on the run from sultan or somethin’ from Saddle Arabia. Apparently the one on the fence was property, and the one on the ground freed him. The two that’s still tied up back there were part of the group, but he couldn’t carry them all, apparently, so he left them there.”

The sheriff nodded, “Alright, well, it looks like we’ve got a chance to get our new jail some use. Also, I suppose that I really should pay you for bringing them in and for stopping a crime. Come see me at the jail and I’ll pay you for your work.”

Jack nodded, stood, and stretched. It was still early in the morning, much closer to when he would normally get up, but now he felt tired and sore.