Chapters When The Colt Comes Around
The golden rays of the sun shone down upon the plains of Equestria, a light wind swept across the grassy expanses. The Buffalo tribes were out in force, taking their young on hunting and foraging trips. The citizens of Appleloosa were not wasting this beautiful day either. They were out fixing up their properties, shopping, or out tending to the apple orchard. Celestia had indeed made the perfect day.
Only one colt in all of the Southern Plains wasn't up yet. Braeburn. He was currently laying in his soft bed on the second level of the local saloon. Most of the residents had already commented on the lazy state of the Apple Family member, saying things such as: 'That boy'd do good to roll off his bedroll by noon' or 'That lazy good-fer-nothing sure don't work like an Apple.' I think you get the point, they thought he was lazy. Lazy, he was. Often in the late hours of the morning he would pull his hat over his eyes to block the offending sun from his eyes. Today was no different.
"Braeburn! Get up, yer lazin' about like a sack of potatoes!" The lovely and scalding voice of the saloon owner, High Price, assaulted his ears. He only gave an ear twitch as a response. "Fine, you wanna lay around all day like a slug? Then we better make sure you don't dry out.." Braeburn heard the sound of hooves on thin metal, then the sound of water. Before he could, or even be bothered, to react, water hit the colt straight on.
"Gah!" The shaggy-maned colt fell off the bed, his now-soaked stetson fell off of his face and onto the floor in front of High Price's hooves. "What the hay was that for?" Braeburn spit water and stood up, shaking himself dry. "Ah was gettin' up.." He quickly found his leather vest and put it on.
"Sure ya were, ya looked about as lively as a foal in a cabbage patch." High Price was a nice looking mare, not Braeburn's type though. He wasn't a fan of green manes...or green coats...or any mare that didn't have more than one color on her. "Now head on down, ah think there's a letter for ya." She kicked the hat at Braeburn.
"Dern mares, never lettin' a fella get his 80 winks, ah tell ya.." The tan colt grumbled and wrung his hat out, then slapped it on his head. "An' messin' with mah hat just wasn't called for. Ya don't just go kickin' a colt's hat around." Braeburn loved his hat more than he loved his own ma...well, maybe not that much. But he loved it about as much as he loved his ma! "Couldn't even bring me a cup o' coffee. Some kinda hostess.." Braeburn grumbled and headed down to the main level.
High Price Saloon was like a typical southern saloon. One side of it was completely overtaken with a bar with every kind of liquor imaginable, including the family hard cider. The rest of the glorified bar was filled with tables, and in the back, a poker table. Braeburn didn't care for the drinks or the ponies that congregated there, he did like the look however. The dried and cracked wood interior reminded him of the barns back home, he supposed that's why he chose to stay here.
"Alright, ah'm here Sunshine. Get me mah coffee and mah letter." He went over to the closest barstool, the one he had dubbed his and even painted his cutie mark on it during one of the alcohol induced episodes of amnesia he got every time payday rolled around.
"Hold yer hooves, Mister Morning. Ah'm busy, this is a business after all." High Price was on the other side of the bar tending to a customer, from what Braeburn could see, she was pouring a waiting stallion a tall glass of Hard Apple Cider.
"Business? Ah coulda sworn this was a glorified waterin' hole." Braeburn and High Price enjoyed their constant barbs at each other. It was a love-hate relationship. Braeburn loved to poke fun at her establishment, and High Price hated everything he enjoyed, simple.
"Shut yer trap, ya lazy good-fer-nothin'." High Price grabbed a steaming mug on the counter behind her with her tail, she turned around to get more alcohol ready for the gentlemen by her, launching the mug down the bar towards Braeburn with expert precision.
Braeburn stopped the mug with ease, sure the first few times the mug either shattered or spilled piping hot coffee on his hooves, but now he was a master of coffee mug catch. "Thank ya kindly." He tipped his hat to the hostess. Just because they poked fun at each other doesn't mean Braeburn forgot his manners.
He raised the mug to his lips and took a long, savoring sip. The scalding temperature didn't bother him anymore, he was pretty sure his mouth had developed calluses to protect from it. But oh sweet Celestia, he loved coffee. He liked it like he liked his nights, black.
"Ah ever tell ya that ya make one mean cup o' joe, Price?" Braeburn took another long sip: Coffee beans imported from the Griffon Kingdoms and ground fresh right in the saloon. The perfect cup of coffee in his opinion.
"Every day, Braeburn. Every day." High Price took some bits from the stallion she had served and trotted leisurely over to the colt with the stetson hat. "Wanna see that letter now, or wait 'til yer awake?" Over the year he had been in Appleloosa, High Price had become accustomed to his routine, and had usually gone out of her way to cater to it...or screw it up. Depended on her mood really.
"Give it to me." Braeburn downed the rest of his coffee in one go. He never liked to rush his morning drink, but he had business to attend to.
"If ah had a bit for every time ah've heard that.." High Price chuckled and put a letter on the bar.
"Ya'd have exactly one bit, from me." Braeburn snatched up the letter and opened it. "Dirty minded mare.."
"Didn't have one 'til y'all came around, sugar." The mare sauntered away with that line, leaving Braeburn to his personal business...and to stare as she trotted away.
Braeburn,
The Equestrian Agricultural Society is pleased with your performance in Appleloosa. We are rather surprised that you brokered a treaty with the buffalo tribes. We have been sending agents out there to try and halt their aggression to the citizens of Appleloosa, all failing.
Due to your success, we are giving you a new assignment. A caravan is leaving Appleloosa for Fresh Springs in the morning, when you arrive, Swift Justice will fill you in on the situation.
Signed,
Slow B. Bureaucrat
Braeburn saw the caravan details on the back. He meant this morning?! Braeburn silently cursed the Equestrian Mail Service and looked at the clock on the wall. The Caravan was leaving at ten thirty-five and right now it was....ten thirty.
The colt in the leather vest stood up slowly, and rushed upstairs. He got his burlap sack that held everything he brought with him. So, an extra vest or two, his toothbrush, a picture of the whole Apple Family, and his pa's old compass. Everything was there, good. He quickly slung the sack over his neck and galloped down the stairs out of the saloon, and out of Appleloosan's lives.
When The Colt Comes Around
Appleloosa City Limit Sign
"Hold that wagon!" Braeburn was at full gallop chasing after the last wagon in the caravan. He knew he could catch up with it, he just didn't wan to run that much. "Cmon!" His hat started to lift off of his head, he was close enough to reach out to the back of the wooden wagon.
"Boss Jack, get 'im in here." The voice of a filly came from the back of the wagon he was chasing, and before Braeburn could grab onto the any part of the wooden wagon, a monstrous hoof reached from the darkness and grabbed Braeburn by the vest, he was dangling not a foot from the ground, he could feel panic start to set in. "Quit teasin' im, Jack. Ah said to get 'im in here." A deep grunt came from the end of the hoof as he was pulled into the darkened interior of the wagon.
It took Braeburn's eyes a minute to adjust to the darkness of the wagon. When they finally did, Braeburn saw the inside of a typical wagon: Food stores, a box of ammunition or two, and plenty of tools and other frontier supplies. There were also two earth ponies sitting among the supplies. One was a filly: her coat was the same color as the golden waves of grain that coated the plains, her mane was the dark brown one would expect from a new chest of drawers. The other occupant was a lumbering mountain of a stallion that Braeburn guessed was 'Boss Jack.' His coat was stone gray and his head was capped with a white mane. He even looked like a mountain.
"Howdy there, stranger!" The filly chirped. Upon closer inspection, Braeburn saw freckles dotted the filly's face. She sorta reminded him of Applejack
"Howdy, little missy." Braeburn dipped his hat politely. "Ah'm mighty thankful that ya helped me outta mah little predicament back there. The name's Braeburn." The filly smiled back at him.
"Nice ta meet ya, Braeburn. Ah'm Prairie Grass." She put her hoof to her chest proudly. "This is mah brother, Boss Jack." Her hoof went to the mountain beside her. "He cant talk, Ma and Pa say it's on account of a sickness he had when he was young." Boss Jack only grumbled in response. "Ah 'spose he ain't got nothin' to say anyhow."
"Pleasure to meet ya both." Braeburn gave a friendly smile and sat against the wall of the wagon. "So where are y'all headed?" Braeburn had always fancied himself a pony's pony. He could often get along with most characters he met, save for outlaws and government ponies.
"Well Ma and Pa bought some land up in the Macintosh Hills, Pa says there's gold up there that needs minin'. So I reckon that we're headed that'a'way." Braeburn got a little homesick at the word 'Macintosh', It made him miss his cousins even more than he already did.
"Gold? Now how 'bout that. Quite a expensive thing." The filly nodded, the mountain just grumbled again. "Where'd y'all come from? Certainly not Appleloosa." Braeburn knew every face in Appleloosa, and he was sure as salt that he wouldn't forget Boss Jack's.
"Course not. We're from Dodge Junction. Well...Ah am, Pa and Ma are from Manehatten." It was a classic story nowadays, some ponies that had no luck in the city decide to move south in search of opportunity and a new life. "Where're you from, Mister Braeburn?" At least the filly had manners.
"Well ah'm travelin' from Appleloosa, if that's what yer askin'. But ah was born and raised in Ponyville on Sweet Apple Acres." The filly's eyes lit up, Boss Jack looked slightly interested.
"Yer part of the Apple Family?" Braeburn gave a careful nod. "Would ya look at that Boss Jack, we got a regular celebrity ridin' with us." Prairie poked at her brother's side, who just grunted and kept a watchful eye on Braeburn. "Ah reckon ah should get yer autograph." Braeburn let out a hearty laugh.
"Naw, Ah ain't no celebrity. Ah moved away from the farm when ah was old enough. Joined up with the Equestrian Agricultural Society, they sent me out to Appleloosa to work the orchards they set up." Braeburn finally got tired of the rope from his sack chafin' his neck, so he took it off and set it down.
"And yer headin' out to the middle of the desert? Ah didn't think much of anythin' grew out there." The filly stood up and trotted over to Braeburn's sack he had set down, stumbling every time the wagon hit a rock or a pothole.
"Ah don't quite know why they're sendin' me out in the desert, but I do know that it must be fer a good reason." Braeburn sat up straight against the wood panel behind him, interested in what the filly was doing. Prairie opened the sack with her teeth and stuck her head inside. "Now don't you know better than to go snoopin around in others' belongings?" Braeburns hoof tipped his hat up a little more.
"Well you already done seen all of our belongings, ah figure it's only right iffin ah look through yours." The farm pony's logic was sound, Braeburn knew it.
"Fair enough.." Braeburn watched as Prairie backed out of the bag, holding the picture of the Apple family in between her teeth. Even though he hated when ponies looked through his belongings, and definitely when they touched his family portrait, he wouldn't yell at Prairie. If not because she was just a filly, than because her brother could most likely punch Braeburn through the wood paneling of the wagon.
"That's a big family..." She was right, Braeburn had never counted the number of ponies in the picture, but he guessed that it was in the 20's or 30's. "And they all work at Sweet Apple Acres..?"
"Naw, The Apple Family lives all over Equestria. Sure Sweet Apple Acres is the most famous orchard of ours, but that's only 'cause it was the first." Braeburn leaned over to look at the picture. It was taken a number of years ago, back when his pa was still alive. Prairie wasn't as interested in the picture as he was, so she set it aside and went back head first into the sack. "Careful, we wouldn't want ya gettin' lost in there."
The next item she came out with made Braeburn laugh, she was wearing one of his vests over her head. "Get this darned thing offa me!" she cried from under the leather stitched vest. Braeburn knocked the vest off of her head and smiled at her. "You got a lot of vests..."
"Well i reckon I could part with a few when I get to Fresh Springs.." High Price had been telling him for months that the vests he wore were tacky and cliche, but he never quite paid any attention to it. Now though, he had to admit that he might need a change of pace. "Ah bet you'd look mighty sharp with one of those on." Braeburn re-situated the vest and put it on Prairie. It was way too big for her, but it was a cute sight nonetheless.
"Now all ah need is yer hat, and i'll look like a regular cowpoke." Boss Jack let out what Braeburn guessed was a laugh.
"Y'all ain't touchin mah hat. Perhaps yer pa can buy ya one but this one is mine."
"Ah was just jokin'..." The earth filly frowned and went back into the sack. "Oh! This looks cool!" She came back out one last time, her hoof was on top of an old compass. "Hey! This compass is broken!" Braeburn smiled, this next one he always loved explaining.
"It ain't broken. it's workin' perfectly fine." The filly tried her best to understand but she just didn't.
"No, a compass is 'sposed to point north always, this one ain't."
"That compass ain't 'sposed to point north. That there's a magic compass. My pa got it from Princess Celestia when he was young...that there compass points to whatever's truly important to you in the world..."The filly studied the compass, it was pointing to Boss Jack behind her. She dismissed it as nonsense and hoofed it over to Braeburn.
"Where does it point for you..?" braeburn looked down at it, the needle pointed to the one part of Equestria that he always wanted. His mind drifted off to thoughts of the small town of Ponyville.
When The Colt Comes Around
Braeburn waved to the caravan as it started to pull away. The past day and a half of traveling with the family had been interesting. He had basically told Prairie and Boss Jack his whole life story: Prairie had been supremely interested, Boss Jack had just sat there and grumbled for the most part. He sometimes let out a rumble that Braeburn took as a laugh.
"Bye Mr.Braeburn! Hope to see ya again soon!" Prairie waved from the back of the wagon. As soon as the wagon was out of sight, Braeburn turned around.
The town known as Fresh Springs was neither fresh, nor did it have a spring. It was a collection of worn wooden buildings that looked like not a soul had touched them in ages, the sand had blasted holes in the wood and left the whole place looking like a ghost town. The few ponies that were walking around looked miserable: They looked thirsty, hungry, and poor. They also shared a common theme with their cutie marks: Either something to do with mining, or farming.
"I'm going to venture a guess and say that you're Braeburn." The colt swung his head and was face to face with, of all things, a unicorn. Her coat was Canterlot High Society White, now coated in dust and grime though.Her mane was sky blue, same as her eyes. What such a pretty mare was doing out here, Braeburn couldn't even imagine.
"Uhh...Yeah, Howdy." He tipped his hat politely. "How'd ya know?"
"Well, you looked lost. Plus, we don't get many tourists around here." Even the way she spoke screamed that she was out of place. Then he spotted the dual holsters on her back...with two revolvers firmly planted in them. "Aaand you noticed my guns."
"What's a mare like you doin' with a pair a' pistols like those?" Braeburn leaned to the side to get a better look at them, at this point he also spotted her cutie mark. It was a gold star.
"I'm going to pretend I didn't hear that. I want you to know two things, right now, and commit them to memory." Her horn glowed a dark blue as the guns were drawn out of their holsters. "One: My name is Swift Justice, I'm the mayor and sheriff of Fresh Springs." The revolvers spun and came to a stop pointing at Braeburn's head. "Two: These are the peacekeepers around here, not any fancy Canterlot diplomacy."
"Said the Canterlot pony.." He mumbled to the ground.
"What was that?" He heard the hammers on the revolvers cock.
"Ah said, pleasure's mine.."
"That's what I thought.." She holstered the pistols, her horn's glow dying. "Now..I think it's time to give you the tour now that the introductions are out of the way.." Swift Justice started trotting towards the small collection of buildings she called a town. "This is Fresh Springs, the old washed out mining town in the San Palomino desert!" The sheriff/mayor seemed awfully proud of this hole in the ground.
Braeburn followed the dirty white mare into the town. She pointed out the buildings and explained what they were.
Doctor's Office: Abandoned.
General Store: Abandoned.
Saloon: Abandoned
Water Tower: Empty
The only thing in the town that was actually occupied were a few houses, and the Jailhouse where Swift lived.
"I suppose you can have the old saloon, all of the beds and stuff are in there, all it needs is a good cleaning." She pointed to the saloon, the swinging doors were boarded up, most of the windows were shattered, and there were holes in the walls.
"Quite a....fixer-upper..." Braeburn didn't relish in the thought of doing all of that reconstruction on his own, it just made his hooves and back hurt thinking about the manual labor.
"Yes, but you weren't sent here to be an interior decorator, you were sent here to help with our agricultural needs." Swift pointed to the vast amounts of desert that stretched all around them.
"Yeah...'bout that. This here is a desert. Ain't nothin' gonna grow in the desert. You might as well be trying to get oranges from an apple tree..." He cocked an eyebrow and studied the landscape. He couldn't see any wildlife on the rolling dunes, save for a few cacti.
"That isn't my problem now, it's yours." She started towards the jailhouse, he followed.
"You've gotta be kiddin' me. Ya don't want me only grow plants out here, but'cha want me to do it all by mah lonesome?" As they entered the jailhouse, it took his eyes a second to adjust from the bright sun, to the dark interior. It was what somepony would expect out of a small jailhouse: A single cell with a bed in it, then a desk, a gun case, and Swift's bed. "Kinda....sparse.."
"Yeah? Well, we don't have much around here." The unicorn went over to the gun case and pulled a key out of her mane with magic.
"Ah have a question..." He had to get something off of his chest.
"I might have an answer.." She went to work unlocking the case.
"What's a Canterlot pony like you doin' all the way out here? This place ain't exactly a prime vacation spot for high society." Braeburn watched carefully as the sheriff pulled a rifle out of the case, it was a whinnychester lever-action rifle. It was in good condition, but the silver barrel was a bit tarnished.
"My father, the Duke of Manehatten, inherited this land from his father. When my father passed, I got this land and became the duchess of Manehatten." The unicorn levitated a box of ammunition from the cabinet and set it on the desk while she focused on inspecting the rifle. "I hated it...the politics, the backstabbing...the expectations. I had to leave. So, I had some surveyors come down here and see what they could find. There were some mineral deposits in the mountain, we mined it all out in just a few short months...Fresh Springs died. I stayed here though, I never want to go back to Canterlot and its stuffy parties. It isn't me."
"Yer the duchess of Manehatten..." The mare nodded "And ya'd rather be out here workin' yer tail off than bein waited on?" Braeburn was quite impressed..then she floated the gun to him. "Um...what's this for?"
"Ever heard of the Amphisbaena?" Braeburn shook his head. "Well, you will. They're giant two headed serpents...they walk on legs and like to burrow under the sand. They tend to pop up around here. I wouldn't want to see a government worker swallowed up by one. Do you know how to use a rifle?" Truthfully, Braeburn didn't have a clue. He could see how unicorns and pegasi could, but earth ponies had no way to easily manipulate triggers.
"No...can't say that ah do."
"City ponies..." She trotted over to him, stood on her two hind legs, took a kneeling pose, then took the rifle in her hooves. "You put a hoof here..." She put her left forehoof in a rounded notch of the forestock which had been cut out for that particular purpose, "Then your other hoof here..." She put her right forehoof in the lever, which had been modified to fit a hoof. "Then just cock this lever to load a round into the chamber." She cocked the lever out, then it snapped back into place. "And....fire." She pulled her hoof back against a broad trigger, the gun clicked.
"Ah think ah can do that..." Braeburn had been watching the demonstration, but he had also been thinking of ways to get the town back onto its hooves...and he had just the thing.
When The Colt Comes Around
Braeburn had pried off the boards from the saloon and had started taking stock of the situation. The place had small sand dunes forming in some places along the floor, all of the windows had holes in them...and not a drop of liquor was to be found. He had to set his plan in action right away if he wanted to help this town at all.
His plan was simple: Each member of the Apple family was entitled to a stipend of products from each branch of the family tree. This meant that Braeburn was entitled to a share of a portion of the Apple's apples, wood, and cider. Some of the Grape's wine, the Orange's juice, the Carrot's vegetables, and the Cherry's famous Cherry wood. Now, while you could opt-out of your share, Braeburn had kept his for when he finally settled down with a herd of his own. But now, he thought that Fresh Springs needed it more than he ever would.
He took the rifle, which Swift had put in a convenient holster, off of his back and set it on the dusty bar. He still loathed the thought of doing all of this work, he was an earth pony..sure..but he hated manual labor. It wasn't so bad when iit was a group doing it, but doing physical labor alone? No, no, no. That wasn't Braeburn.
The farm pony sighed and sat on a creaky bar stool, he decided it would be best to write the letters that night. He looked to the stairs, which didn't look safe at all.
"Ugh...sometimes, ah hate mah job.."
--
Swift lifted her holsters off of her back and hung them on the peg in the wall near her bed. Another hard day had passed, another day of hardships had been endured. Frankly, she just wanted to rest. So she fell onto her bed rather ungracefully, the stiff mattress and dirty covers felt soft to her. They were inviting her to sleep all of her troubles away, beckoning for her usual trip to dreamland. But she wasn't ready just yet, she had some thinking to do.
Most of those crucial thoughts drifted to the new arrival in town: Braeburn. He was a good addition, handy with his hooves and quick with a comeback:Something this town needed. Not to mention, he was a looker. Something this town really needed. Sure there were colts that already lived here, but they already had their herds going for years before they came here, and Swift wouldn't want to impose. So, she kept herself busy in order to keep from interacting with too many of the townsfolk, she didn't need any propositions.
Ever since she moved out here she had liked the idea of herds. In Canterlot they had fancy marriages that often ended in disaster. Out here, ponies were more traditional. A colt was allowed to have multiple mares in his herd as long as the mares consented. It was simplistic and made for some tight knit families. She had liked the idea of raising foals with the help of another mare, on account of her foalhood not being the best. Her own mother had often left her with a foalsitter or with a nanny, even when she wasn't busy. Having a second, but equal, mother figure would have been nice.
"Don't dwell in the past, Swifty. That's not who you are.." She was about to close her eyes when a tremendous rumble tore through the town. "What the hay?!" She shot up, her magic immediately grabbing her holsters and putting them on her back. "Serpents..." The unicorn jumped from her bed and out the door. The sight that greeted her was not a good one. Where the saloon had once been, there was nothing more than a hole. Only one thing came to mind.
"Braeburn!"
When The Colt Comes Around
Swift looked down the dark hole where the saloon had once been. It was dark, too dark to see. She had never seen the Amphisbaena do anything like this, the serpents usually only came up and left sizable holes, but nothing that could swallow up a saloon.
"Braeburn!" She hollered out for the farm pony. "Braeburn, you down there?" No response. "Ponyfeathers..." She looked at the hole for some way down, she saw none. "I hope he's okay."
--
Braeburn was not okay, well, relative to how he was before he wasn't okay. A rotted wooden beam rested on his torso making it hard to breathe, it felt like one of his legs was broken, and worst of all? He lost his hat. His pappy's lucky hat!
After a cursory glance around whatever pit he was in, he only saw wreckage of the saloon scattered around him. He considered himself lucky that he wasn't impaled by one of the larger pieces of wood that had stuck themselves in the ground. Then he took stock of his own body in greater detail: his front right hoof looked a tad out of place...possibly broken or just sprained. The beam on his chest was rotted to the fullest extent of the word, so he guessed he could move it with little effort.
He put his front left hoof on the beam and pushed, it moved away from him. He added his back hooves to the mix and pushed it away from his body. He rolled to his left, not wanting to put any pressure on his injured hoof. he stood and looked up, nothing. Just darkness. Not even moonlight. Looks like he was stuck down here.
"Well...might as well find mah hat.." The colt knew his priorities.
--
"Why don't I have any rope in this place?!" Swift gave a frustrated groan and kept digging through her belongings. She couldn't find a rope anywhere. She'd gone to every house in the town, granted that wasn't a lot, and still no rope turned up. How was it that no pony in this Celestia-Forsaken town had rope?! She huffed and threw several sheets across the room. "Well...looks like it's time to use what my momma gave me..." She looked up at the horn protruding from her head.
Swift had never been a master magician, nor had she been average in her magical skill. She flunked out of magic school, and still had trouble lifting heavier things with a simple levitation spell. She thought her plan over, it seemed crazy in her mind, but she was going to attempt to levitate herself down that hole.
She gathered up her old spell book, extra ammo for her pistols, and a first aid kit...y'know...just in case. She knew there was a chance she'd get hurt...or worse, and she was prepared for that eventuality. The note she had pre-written was left on her desk, just in case she didn't come back. With a longing glance towards her bed, she left.
The hole was just as dark and deep as it was before. She started to second-guess herself, as she always did. But she steadied herself: it was her job to protect the ponies of this town, no matter what. This was one of those 'no matter what' times. She took her spell book off of her back and set it on the ground and opened it up to the correct page.
"Okay...focus on the object you want to lift..." She closed her eyes and focused on her leylines. They ran from the tip of her horn to the bottom of her hooves, then she felt the leylines that ran through the earth. She had to block those off, the key to levitating yourself was to turn your magic back on yourself, as long as you didn't redirect it right at your horn, you would be fine. "Spread your magic throughout your body evenly..." She felt her horn light up with energy, she then turned the energy back into her own leylines and spread it out evenly. She opened her eyes. She was floating! "Calm down, Swifty...calm down...focus..." She looked into the hole, then willed herself to go forward.
It took a bit more mental fortitude than she was used to, but she eventually reached the bottom of the giant sinkhole. Once at the bottom, she looked up. She had to be a good 200 feet underground. This didn't set well with her. Something made this cavern, something dug it out, and it sure as Celestia wasn't giant worms. This required brains.
"Well Swifty, I sure know what you're doing..." She instinctively drew her twin pistols. Safety was the number one priority at the moment...so the hammers on her pistols both cocked. She took a step forward on the rubble of the rotted saloon, it was solid enough to hold her...for now.
A loud crunch came from behind her. She spun and leveled her pistols at the sound. "Alright, come out now, you varmint." Nothing could help her get the proper accent down, she tried to get help with acquiring said accent...but everypony always said 'Ya gotta be born wit' it.' Due to that small fact, her insults and threats were very ineffective.
"Swift? That you?" Braeburn poked his hatted head around the corner of a large piece of debris. "Good news! Ah found mah hat!" He gave her his best goofy grin and waved. "Say, y'all fall down this hole too?" He looked up to the sky. "That's a mighty big fall...ah hurt mah hoof on the way down." He lifted his front right hoof, which hung limp. Swift just sighed.
"Your a dang silly pony, Braeburn...you know that..?" She levitated the first-aid kit off of her back and trotted over to the vested fool.
"Funny, ah always thought mah cousin was a silly pony.."
"Who is?"
"She is, Applejack." Swift sat on her haunches, and Braeburn followed suit. The unicorn popped open the kit and dug out a roll of gauze, she roughly grabbed the farmer's tan hoof and looked at it. "Ow! H-Hey, that hurts Swift!" She just gave him a glare that said 'Oh shut up, you whiny foal.' Braeburn, being the respectful gentlecolt he was, did as the lady said.
"Braeburn, what in the hoof happened here?" Swift looked at the hoof and decided it was out of place.
"Well...ah'm not right sure..one moment ah was pinin' for a drink and the next, as the immortal Tom Painty said, Free Fallin'. It came as a mighty sur-AHHHHHHH!" The scream masked the audible *pop* of his hoof going right back into place.
"You big foal..." Swift expertly wrapped his hoof in gauze until she was sure the hoof wouldn't slip out of place. "Alright, now that you're fixed...what do you say we find a way out of here?" Something that sounded like claws against wood came from somewhere around the duo. "Braeburn...please...please tell me that was you.." She closed her eyes.
"Me? Ah'm sittin' here waitin' for mah dang hoof to quit hurtin'." She sighed.
"Great...that's what I thought..." She picked up her pistols. "Okay...whoever you are. Come out here." Before she could say it again, a smoky gray shape with beady green eyes peaked over a piece of debris.
"Ponies?!" Its voice was like hooves on a chalkboard, high pitched and screechy as hell. "More ponies?! AUGH!"
"Is....is that a dog...?"