Going with the Grain

by Bronyxy

Rating: everyone
Tags: Applejack, Slice of Life, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Original Character, Mystery, Adventure
Length: 14940

Applejack finds out there may be another branch of her family in Whinnieapolis on the other side of Equestria, so she sets off on the longest journey of her life to find out.

Applejack finds out there may be another branch of her family in Whinnieapolis on the other side of Equestria, so she sets off on the longest journey of her life to find out.

Published 2021-01-03 22:40:00 UTC
Last updated 2021-01-03 22:40:00 UTC

1 The Seed of Interest

“So, what’s that you’re saying Goldie?” asked Applejack, “D’ya mean to say our family’s even bigger than we thought?”

“Well, I can’t say for sure, but the funniest thing is if you go back, way back here to a time before the Apple family first asked Princess Celestia for some land down by the Everfree, there’s a Cinnamon Jack right here. Now, I happened to hear from a Golden Graham just the other day … it’s right here somewhere …”

“What’s it say, Goldie?” asked Applejack impatiently as Goldie swept a hoof over the sideboard where she thought she had probably left the letter, causing at least half a dozen assorted cats to jump to somewhere less likely to see them moved along.

“Now, I’m sure I left it here somewhere …”

“Is this what you’re looking for, Goldie?” asked Applejack picking up a fat envelope propped up between a plant pot and a water jug on a part of the table not quite completely overrun with cats.

“Well, whaddya know, it was there all along …” she said, opening it up to reveal a hoofwritten note inside sketching out a family tree of many generations’ past. All the names were unfamiliar, excepting one; Cinnamon Jack.

“Ya don’t think … do ya?” asked Applejack moving her head in for a closer look.

“Well, he was around at the same time as the one in the Apple family tree; can’t say more than that. Seems it would be quite a coincidence to have two ponies of the same name at the same time unless they were the same one, if you follow me?"

“Oh, I follow you Goldie. Where would I find this Golden Graham?”

“Well, the postmark says Whinniesota” she said, “Rest of the address is right there on the letter; someplace called Whinnieapolis.”

“Never heard of it” Applejack replied blankly, shaking her head slowly.

“Me neither, if I’m honest. Tell you what; I expect it'll be a quiet time on the farm right now; why don’t you go and find out?”

“I don’t know if I can” Applejack baulked; she was a homebird and the thought of going so far beyond what she knew frightened her.

“You’d better take this letter, just in case you want to go find out” cajoled Goldie, seeing that the seed of interest was taking root in her head, “Why, if I was only thirty years younger, I’d have jumped at the chance. Trouble is I can’t jump at all these days …”

Applejack spent the remainder of a pleasant afternoon going through old family records and sorting photographs, picking up little family anecdotes that brought the personalities behind the names to life. Although she tried to focus, she found her mind speculating at the prospect of suddenly being part of a much bigger family with new relatives to get to know, and a whole host of new stories.

After she had said her goodbyes, she walked to the station in the fading daylight to catch the last train of the day back to Ponyville, her mind wrestling with the indecision of whether to go to Whinnieapolis and confirm what she was now really hoping was true.

***

“So, it’s like this Granny” concluded Applejack over the breakfast table with both her brother and sister following her revelations intently, “Goldie says we’re only going to know for certain if the families are linked if somepony goes there and meets them. I’d sure be happy to go myself, y’know, but there’s so much to do on the farm I couldn’t in all conscience leave my chores for y’all to do for me.”

“Oh, nonsense” retorted Granny Smith, “Ain’t nuthin’ here that can’t be left for a day or two; ain’t that right Big Mac?”

“Eeyup!” he agreed.

Applejack’s bluff had been called.

“Can I come, Applejack? Oh, please can I come too?”

“No, I don’t think being so far away from home is safe for a young ‘un like you. Heck, even I don’t know what dangers there are to protect you from.”

“Truth is Applejack, there’s no better time" interjected Big Mac, "The apples won’t need bucking for a couple of weeks yet, and I’ve got everything covered.”

“Besides” chipped in Granny Smith, “I’m sure Apple Bloom and Big Mac could fit in an opportunity for more of that sibling bonding.”

Apple Bloom looked a little put out, but then turned to her big brother with thoughts of the unexpected guest appearance at the Sisterhooves Social by her long-lost cousin Orchard Blossom, and put a hoof to her mouth to cover a giggle.

“Oh, yeah. Right. Of course” Applejack foundered around trying to find another remotely plausible excuse, but failed.

“So, you’ll be on the first train out of Ponyville tomorrow, then?” said Granny Smith, making it seem less of a question, and more of a command.

“Uh, I guess I will then” replied Applejack, knowing that sleep was going to elude her for most of the coming night.

***

“Whinnieapolis?” queried the clerk in the ticket office, flipping through a yellowed and dusty old train timetable that had not been opened since it had been received at the station, and it was doubtful whether anypony working there today knew when that had been.

“Don’t get a lot of call for ponies from around here to go so far away” the clerk continued, “I think you’re probably the first.”

Applejack hadn’t slept well, full of the worries of what lay ahead, and as result felt tense. Having heard that nopony had made the journey before did not make her feel any easier.

“Wait a minute “ said the clerk, “Here we go. Now you take the train to Vanhoover, head cross country to Branding then drop down to Whinnieapolis.”

“Uh, OK, got that” said Applejack, “I think.”

“Oh, one last thing; that cross-country bit will take you a whole day.

“What, you mean like, 8 in the morning till 5 in the afternoon kind of all day?” she shifted uncomfortably.

“No, I mean like 11 in the morning until 11 the next morning. Still want to go?”

Applejack blanched. The thought of being shut inside a train for this long was not in any way appealing to an outdoorspony like her.

“Well make up your mind” grumbled a curmudgeonly old voice behind her, “Back in my day we knew what we were lining up for so other folks wasn’t kept waitin’. Now, are you gonna get a ticket or not?”

“Oh, er, sorry” stumbled Applejack, beads of sweat beginning to form on her forehead as she felt herself being pushed into a decision she didn’t want to make. She looked from the old pony behind her to the clerk, her apprehension clear for them both to see.

“I’ll take it!” she blurted, instantly regretting her decision.

“That’ll be thirty-five bits please” announced the clerk.

“How much?” spluttered Applejack, “Why that’s more money than a … a … well I don’t know what it is …”

“Make up your mind already” came the voice from behind her again, “I’ve got me a train to catch!”

She fumbled in her purse and found to her surprise that it was wedged full of bits and immediately worked out where they had come from.

“Oh, that Granny Smith” she chastened lovingly, a smile spreading across her face. Then she returned her attention back to the clerk and affirmed confidently, “Here ya go, an’ sorry for the delay.”

The clerk scooped up the pile of bits and handed over the freshly stamped ticket. Applejack looked at it like it was a magical charm that could grant her three wishes and stowed it safely in her hat, before thanking the clerk and politely turning to the impatient old pony and bidding him a good day. He just harrumphed and inched forward to the counter, slapping two bits down and demanding to be served.

“Hope you have a nice journey, Miss!” called the clerk over the grumpy expression of his next customer, secretly rather sad to see her go, “Come back and tell me what it’s like, won’t you?”

“Yes, that I will, thank you” said Applejack and strode off with the first confidence she had felt that morning.

2 VIP Applejack

The first leg of her journey had been uneventful, even dull, reminding her of everything she disliked about rail travel. When she had alighted from the train at Vanhoover Central Station, she was stunned. There were ponies milling around everywhere; just like when she had first travelled to Manehattan, each of them apparently knowing exactly where they wanted to be, and all of them clearly on a tight timeline to get there. The words from Rarity flashed back into her mind; “Remember, Applejack, you're in the big city now. No moseying. You've gotta walk with speed and confidence!”

“Oh Rarity” she said under her breath, “Where are you when I need you?”

Totally lost, she sidled up to a porter who was busily engaged in offloading bags and cases from the train and piling them onto a trolley.

“Um, excuse me, Sir” she stumbled apologetically, “Can you point me to the right train for Branding?”

“Branding, you say” he said, straightening up, “That would be the cross country to Mountreal – platform eighteen, if I’m not mistaken, but I’d hurry if I were you, it’s due to depart soon and there isn’t another until tomorrow.”

Applejack gulped and uttered some fleeting thanks before galloping off, skidding to a halt and then galloping back again.

“Where is platform eighteen please?”

The porter tore himself away from his work again and pointed, “This is platform three. Four, five, six …”

Applejack spun around and galloped off once more, but this time in the other direction, saddle bags bouncing comically off her flanks, hoping the delay hadn’t caused her to miss her connecting train.

She showed her ticket to the staff at the innumerable numbers of barriers and turnstiles as she ran down the concourse, checking off the large numbers that denoted the platforms, all of which seemed to have trains waiting. When finally, she arrived at platform eighteen, she took her hat off to show the ticket to the bored looking attendant who simply waved her through with no further interest.

What met her eyes was not what she would have described as a train, but an enormous metal palace on wheels. It seemed to be twice the height of the trains she was used to and shining with the gleam of a newly polished baking tin. Up ahead, she saw a guard with a flag in his hoof and a whistle raised to his mouth, and knew this was no time to ask questions, so skidded to a stop next to the nearest door and flung it open, throwing herself in just as she heard the whistle blow. She pulled the door shut with a reverberating crash and lurched as the train pulled away.

“Dang it all” she panted, “No wonder everypony’s in a hurry round here. Nuthin’ waits for nopony!”

Unlike many ponies on a long-distance journey, Applejack did not choose to seek out a seat to herself where she could be alone with her thoughts or a good book; no, instead she walked down the sparsely filled carriages until she found a group of ponies round a table, all sharing stories and clearly enjoying each other’s company.

“Excuse me” she interrupted politely, nodding her head towards the one seat that remained vacant in their group, “Mind if I come an’ join y’all?”

“Oh, what a quaint accent” commented a well-to-do looking mare.

“Such a bold statement considering it’s so out of fashion” added another.

“I don’t suppose it’s her real voice, do you?” the third chipped in.

“That would certainly be tragic” snarked the first mare, “Imagine not being able to speak properly.”

“On second thoughts” said Applejack, the polite smile having since dropped from her face, “I’ve just remembered somewhere else I need to be.”

She stomped away, their callous laughter echoing condescendingly in her ears. For the second time in only a few minutes, she found herself thinking fondly of her fashionista friend.

“I can imagine Rarity would have been able to fit right in …” she grumbled setting aside the differences she had once shared with the prissy white unicorn, “Wish she were here now.”

Somewhat dejectedly, she stomped down the carriage to find another one far enough away so that she wouldn’t be able to hear the voices of the pretentious ponies she had just excused herself from, but before she could reach the door, she met the conductor coming towards her.

“Tickets please” he requested, and Applejack doffed her hat to retrieve it and pass it over.

He fed it between the jaws of his clipper and punched it, eyeing her sad expression as he gave it back.

“If you haven’t taken a seat yet Miss” he added with a twinkle in his eye, “Somepony didn’t show up for his reservation on the observation deck. Would you care for a free upgrade to the best seat in the house?”

“Would I?” she beamed back excitedly.

“I say, chappie!” shouted one of the snobbish ponies, as if ordering a lacky about.

The conductor turned slowly to face the rude passenger and acknowledge his call, “Yes, Sir?”

“Look here!” he bellowed, “If there’s a free upgrade going, I’m more important than she is! Don’t you know who I am?””

“I’m sorry you don’t know who you are, Sir” replied the conductor coolly, “But I’ll be right back to help you once I’ve escorted this Lady to her seat.”

In the stunned silence that followed, he turned and bade Applejack follow him through into the next carriage. The door closed automatically with a click behind them and Applejack said, “This sure is mighty kind of you.”

“Well, I wasn’t going to let them get away with speaking to you like that” he replied.

“Oh” she said, sounding embarrassed, “You heard that?”

“Yes” he acknowledged, “I know the type. They act rich and get their kicks lauding their position over others. They push in to be first for handouts and are always last to pay their bills. To be honest it was a pleasure to offer you something that any of them would have sold their grandmother for.”

Applejack felt her embarrassment melt away as she warmed immediately to this kind stallion, knowing that she had at least one friend on the train for the long journey ahead.

The conductor guided her through another carriage and then led her up a set of stairs that opened out into a fantastic open space with stunning views all around. Her mouth fell open and she was temporarily silenced as she took in the startling panorama. He stopped at a pair of empty seats and offered her the choice.

“Well thank you very much, Sir” she said regaining her voice, “Which one’s mine? I mean, there’s two seats here an’ only one of me. Where’s my travel buddy?”

“There isn’t one” he replied with a sly grin, “I didn’t want to give any of those rude ponies the chance to spoil your journey. I’ll be back later with the luncheon menu, but for now I suggest you sit back and relax.”

“Lunch?” she enquired, “But I didn’t order anythin’.”

“Complementary with the seat reservation” he explained, “It would only go to waste otherwise.”

“Well, ain’t this somethin’” she said to herself as he left her in peace, “A good view an’ fancy food too. Maybe this won’t be so bad after all.”

The conductor was as good as his word and Applejack found herself being waited on with a full silver service. When he served her the first course, he could sense her discomfort at not knowing which utensil she should be using and whispered the correct choice in her ear, watching her face light up with gratitude. He was more used to the clientele receiving this service being formally trained in etiquette and found her to be refreshing, making sure that she had the best of attention, partly to put her at her ease and partly because he enjoyed her company.

The meal was excellent and the service second to none. Given the sophistication of her surroundings, she even omitted the customary burping at the end of the meal and settled back to watch the scenery unfold before her. She spared a fleeting thought for the party of snobbish ponies below her; their acerbic personalities must have grated on each other after a while, and Applejack thought briefly how their punishment for being so unpleasant was to be cursed with each other’s company, especially on a long journey like this. On that happy thought, she smiled and reclined her seat, “What goes around comes around” she said quietly.

The hills began to give way to flatter terrain making the sky look unfeasibly large. From her position high up on the observation deck, Applejack scanned her head left to right, from horizon to horizon just trying to take in the sheer enormity of it; so different from the orchards of apple trees back home that outsiders may have found claustrophobic.

The conductor came round again later with the dinner service, which was even more impressive than the lunchtime fare, and showed Applejack how the seat converted into a bunk for the night ahead, affording her every comfort.

Once she had finished the meal, she watched the day give way to twilight and thence onward to night with a crescent moon counterpointing the patchwork of stars that twinkled beguilingly down on her. She thought about what tomorrow’s meeting with Golden Graham would hold and gently slid off to sleep with a contented smile on her face.

4 Stranger in a Strange Land

The train connecting to Whinnieapolis was provided by a provincial service much more like the Friendship Express she was used to. There had been an hour’s mismatch of timetables during which she had gone to the cafeteria and unwrapped the packed lunch that the conductor had provided for her. His generosity would have made even Rarity gasp, and he had clearly been busy putting together a feast fit for the Princesses themselves. Applejack touched her hat in salute to him, even though he wasn’t there to see it, she still hoped that the sentiment of gratitude would somehow reach him.

Applejack found it odd that Rarity had sprung into her mind again and started to think that when she returned to Ponyville, she should go round and try to make amends for their past disagreements; her friend did have a lot of good points after all, and there was something about her that she couldn’t quite get out of her mind …

Before she knew it, the station’s public address system crackled to life informing passengers that the Whinnieapolis train was now boarding and advising there was only ten minutes prior to departure. This was a much smaller station than Vanhoover Central that she had found so intimidating the day before and took the mere six platforms in her stride, finding her way with confidence to where her train was waiting patiently.

The train was like those she was more used to at home, which was cramped and under provisioned compared with what she had become accustomed to since 11 am yesterday morning. She took a spare seat, but felt all eyes in the carriage were upon her, and didn’t feel she had the same degree of privacy to be able to undo her saddle bags and look once more through the letter sent by Golden Graham, so sat and watched, ready to make polite conversation should anypony want to join in.

She found herself listening to the voices around her, not for reasons of eavesdropping, but just because they were unavoidable, and noticed that she was having to work harder to understand what they were saying. There was the unmistakeable emergence of a distinct local accent that pervaded the ponies in her carriage; a common theme that seemed to separate her from her fellow travellers.

“Perhaps” she thought to herself, “It’s best I don’t say much in case they all think my accent’s the one out of place.”

Then her pupils shrank as she suddenly questioned whether Golden Graham would be able to understand her. After having come all this way, the thought of not being able to talk with somepony who may even be her kin sent a shiver through her and she started to feel very alone.

The train was a local service and stopped a few times at unfamiliar sounding places before arriving precisely as scheduled at exactly twenty-eight minutes past two in a station identified as being Whinnieapolis. Her elation tempered the rising tension she felt in her back and in her legs due to the unaccustomed inactivity, and looked forward to getting out and having a walk or better still a gallop around to feel more like her old self once more. With a sigh, she got up and slung her saddlebags on before climbing down onto the platform and tasting the air of another new city.

Applejack was a country girl who was quite at home on the farm and going into Ponyville. She had always felt intimidated by big cities such as Canterlot and Manehattan, and since having begun this journey yesterday had already found herself in Vanhoover, Branding and now Whinnieapolis. The journey had been long, but at least all she had needed to do was change trains twice and she had gotten to the right place; now she had arrived in the correct city, the more daunting challenge was to find the pony she had come to meet. She walked cautiously down the wide stone steps that led to the station and crossed the road into a large municipal park, where she stopped at an unoccupied bench and opened her saddle bag to find the address and refresh her memory as to how she had been recommended to get there.

“Uh huh” she said, as it started to come back to her, and then carefully packed the letter away again.

“Excuse me Officer” she said to the uniformed stallion walking past her on a winding path that meandered scenically into the park, “But, can ya direct me to the bus depot?”

“Well, blow me down, Missy” he laughed in a deep rumbling voice, “Nopony ever called me a Officer before; I’m just a humble park attendant!”

“Well, ya do keep this place mighty nice lookin’” she commented sharing a broad smile with him.

“Why, thank you Missy” he beamed happily, “Don’t hear a accent like yours ever’ day neither.”

Applejack looked a little crestfallen until he added quickly, “An’ it’s right nice too.”

Instantly she perked up and he beckoned her to stand next to him. He placed a large friendly forehoof on her shoulder and steered her sight gently towards where she wanted to go, pointing out the different flowers she would see if she chose to stay on the path, taking especial pride in describing colourful displays of bright red gladioli that he had evidently planted himself.

Once he had finished giving her directions, and also given a description of the floral highlights in the garden this season, he stepped back and bowed politely, wishing her a pleasant stay. She tipped her hat and thanked him kindly too before setting off along the path. As she rounded the next bend, there were the flower beds containing the gladioli, which were just as fabulous as he had promised they would be. She turned round to see if he was still in sight and caught him waving back at her before he disappeared to attend to whatever duties were next on his list.

“Well, I’ll be …” she said, shaking her head softly, impressed by the courtesy of this stranger.

She drank in the remainder of her walk through the park, admiring the floral artistry and clever use of flowers to ensure that there was always going to be something in bloom at any time of year. Too soon, the path ended, and Applejack surveyed the wide multi-lane road that lay ahead, daring her to cross. She retained a fear of getting halfway across before suddenly the traffic would start again, leaving her isolated with vehicles forced to divert around her like being on an ever-shrinking island with hungry sharks circling around.

Rarity’s words about not moseying stuck with Applejack as she approached the busy road with trepidation and waited. She knew her tendency was to amble and recognised that in order not to be caught in the traffic she would have to be quick, and found herself pawing at the sidewalk with her forehoof, looking for all the world like a buffalo ready to stampede.

The constant stream of traffic suddenly stopped like a fast-flowing river had been dammed upstream and at that very instant, the pedestrian signal changed to show a green light in the shape of a trotting pony.

Applejack put her head down and charged.

Her fellow pedestrians looked askance at the sight of the bolting farm pony. Even some of the passengers in the fleet of taxis that had suddenly come to a halt stuck their heads out to witness the sight.

“She’s keen” said one.

“Ten more bits if you can get me to my meeting as fast as her!” called another to his driver.

Applejack was unaware of the spectacle she was causing and kept her head down until she was clear of the road, then braced her front legs while her hooves skimmed along the sidewalk, making a loud screeching noise as her horseshoes ground across the stone slabs.

She came to a halt and raised her head to look around, her nervous smile melting into one of relief as she looked back across the lanes and lanes of traffic that were held waiting for the stop signal to change. Marvelling at her personal achievement, she untensed and tipped her hat so it rested further back on her head, giving her a clearer view from under its brim.

To her surprise, a few ponies began to applaud, then more joined in until she was receiving the adulation of those who had seen her epic sprint, and many others who wanted to join in and not feel left out.

“Aw, shucks ...” she acknowledged, feeling a warm glow rising in her cheeks.

In an instant, the lights changed, and the applause cut like somepony had taken a pair of scissors to it, allowing the hustle and bustle of city life to resume once more.

5 On the Buses

The sidewalk led Applejack round to a large, paved area protected from the elements by a sweeping transparent roof, underneath which, teams of ponies stood hitched to vehicles that looked a lot like extended stagecoaches. These were mostly presented in the same red, white and blue livery of what she assumed were the colours of the company that ran the service, but over to one side a dozen or so bright yellow ones marked school bus stood unoccupied. She chortled quietly to herself thinking what Apple Bloom and her friends would make of being picked up by one of those every morning.

“Excuse me, Ma’am!” called a uniformed stallion with a peaked cap and a clipboard, “The bus for Menoponie is leaving!”

“Oh ... er … sorry an’ all” she stammered, looking frantically about her until she noticed a team of eight particularly strong looking earth ponies just beginning to move away with a red, white and blue bus behind them.

“Over here, stay behind me until the bus has departed, please” he ordered, ushering her safely behind him.

They both watched as the bus drew out, and as soon as it had disappeared safely into the traffic, he turned back to her, staring directly into her eyes and demanded, “Now, what do you think you’re doing here? This area is clearly marked as being off limits to passengers. You could have been hurt!”

“Look, I’m sorry mister” she responded, “I’ve just come from the station an’ I didn’t know the rules round these parts.”

“Oh, you’re not from around here, are you?” he acknowledged in a much softer voice, leading her over to the public concourse, “The accent is a dead giveaway. Look, this area is for the buses to come in and go out. Technically you’re jaywalking and trespassing, so I suggest we get you to where you’re supposed to be before either of us gets into trouble.”

As they neared the railings that separated the public concourse from the bus movement area, she felt burning stares from all the other passengers, each of them wearing expressions that showed they were judging her silently.

“Beg pardon” she said collecting herself, “Only I’ve come here to meet with my cousin, well at least I think he’s a cousin … his name’s Golden Graham, an’ he lives around these parts. I don’t suppose you know him do ya?”

“Sorry, no” he smiled genially, “It’s a big city; welcome to Whinnieapolis. I’m guessing you’re from somewhere a bit smaller?”

“Yes, Sir” she responded proudly, “I’m from Sweet Apple Acres; that’s in Ponyville.”

He looked back blankly, “Where’s that near?”

“I guess Canterlot’s the nearest city. You must know Canterlot where the Princesses live, right?”

“Heard of it, but that’s like, off the map! You’re not telling me you’ve come from there?”

“You bet your boots!” she beamed back at him.

“Well, I hope this cousin of yours appreciates the lengths you’ve gone to in coming to meet him. Do you know which town he’s in?” he asked.

“Hitchfield” she said, “Know it?”

“Yes, Ma’am, I do. I’ve travelled everywhere in Whinniesota; not many as can say that hereabouts. Know it like the back of my hoof, you might say. Yes, Hitchfield is on the Henson bus, stand number four; it’s not in yet. Should be here in about a half hour or so. Now if you’ll excuse me, it sure was nice meeting you, but I’ve got a schedule to keep, and please don’t go a-wandering on the wrong side of the railings again” he added with a knowing smile, “It’s going to get busy.”

“Thank you, Sir” she replied, touching her hat in salute and then wondering what she should do until the bus came in.

Applejack hadn’t been in a bus depot before and watched with interest as the different buses came and went. After a few minutes, a sudden surge of activity saw an influx of ponies pouring into the far side of the movement area. The image of such a large number of ponies converging into such a small space seemed to invite chaos, but in less than a minute they had all lined up behind their respective yokes in front of the fleet of yellow buses, and within five minutes the school bus fleet had formed an orderly procession ready to spill out onto the streets.

She shook her head in wonderment and let out a soft whistle that caught the ear of the inspector. He turned to see where the sound had come from and saw Applejack’s large green eyes looking back at him.

“I told you it was going to get busy” he said giving her a cheeky wink, then adding, “Your bus should be coming in once this lot has gone.”

The tailback of buses worked its way out of the depot like a bright yellow centipede inching its way out of its lair until a much larger, emptier and altogether more echoey space was left behind.

Applejack looked around at the sight of the recently emptied depot, an inexplicable whiff of sadness passed through her as she likened the sight to an empty nest once all the fledglings had gone. Before she could get maudlin over the analogy, a clatter of hooves and a rumble of wheels announced the arrival of the Henson service. In a single motion, the perfectly synchronised team of four pulled round to stop precisely on the allocated spot without even needing to look down at the marks on the ground. The instant they had stopped, a pair of helpers rushed out to tend to the tired team while the passengers disembarked. Once the bus was clear, four fresh ponies came out and the helpers swapped teams over in readiness for the service to go out once more.

“That’s the one you want” came a kindly voice that caused Applejack to turn and see the inspector nod towards the newly arrived bus.

“Why thank you, Sir” she replied tipping her hat and making her way to the stand, where she was first to board and take her pick of the seats, choosing one on the nearside of the bus facing forwards to give her the best view of the scenery. She settled into the seat and took Golden Graham’s letter out for a final read through, just to make sure she hadn’t missed anything and felt as a comforting glow coursed through her; she had travelled so far and was now only a bus ride away from finally meeting him!

A few other passengers came on board to join her, and she touched her hat in a neighbourly greeting to each in turn, receiving responses ranging from an elderly stallion who returned her an engaging smile, to being completely ignored by a couple of middle-aged mares engrossed in a conversation about shopping. None of the new arrivals chose to sit next to her, but she was getting used to this self-imposed distancing by now, and paid it no heed.

When the minute hand of the large clock inside the depot clicked round to point to the nine on the clockface, she heard a whistle and then felt a lurch as they pulled away from the stand and ventured out to face the hurly burly of the city.

At the beginning, there were a lot of stops and starts as they threaded their way through the traffic, but shortly, the scenery opened out to reveal a flat landscape of the type she had become familiar with on the long train journey, and the bus settled into a constant cruising speed. Applejack looked out of the window and counted down the mile markers expectantly, the nerves she had felt about taking the journey now being replaced by those she felt about meeting somepony and his family who may or may not be kinfolk.

6 Cousin Golden Graham

It was late afternoon when the bus passed the sign informing anypony who cared to read it that they were crossing Hitchfield city limits, where a population of 6,726 would await them at an altitude of 344 m above sea level. For a pony used to counting apples by the bushel, this was a large number, positively massive when compared with Ponyville, but nowhere near as big as the populations of some of the cities she had passed through recently.

They slowed as the traffic increased and Applejack looked out for another bus depot, but before she could see one, they pulled over to the side of the road.

“Hitchfield, this is Hitchfield!” called one of the team as they took a rest waiting for passengers to alight.

Applejack looked around, a little unsure that this could be her destination, having become used to railroad stations and the bus depot, not anything as understated as a stop at the side of the road that wasn’t even in a turnout. However, the bus stop confirmed what the pony had called, and so she threw on her saddle bags and stepped off onto the sidewalk, taking the opportunity to thank the team whilst also confirming this stop was all there was in the town.

Relief at the confirmation blended with surprise that this was it, and a deep sense of anticlimax washed over her.

She stood back a little further on the sidewalk giving the bus more room even though it didn’t need it, and watched as it left her behind to continue its journey to Henson.

Nopony had left the bus at the same time as her, and she felt alone in a strange place with the sun getting low in the sky.

Everything struck her as being unnaturally quiet. After almost a day and a half of either being on some form of transport or waiting to get into one, she was there, at the point on the map she had fantasised about. Suddenly, she wasn’t sure what “there” meant.

The neighbourhood seemed pleasant enough; the sidewalk being graced at regular intervals by trees that had grown to stand taller than any of the single storey buildings she could see, and an unfamiliar dustiness reminded her with each breath that she wasn’t in Ponyville anymore.

Everypony who lived around these parts, or even those who just passed through had clearly all found better places to be than by the roadside this afternoon, and for the first time on her journey, there was nopony to help guide her on her way. She let out a sad sigh and made to take off her saddlebags so she could get another look at the address in the hope that she could find somepony who might be able to help, when she caught a stirring in the shadows that made her reconsider.

“Why, begging your pardon Miss” came a male voice, “But, would you by any chance be cuzzin Applejack?”

The words seemed to become amplified as they echoed around her in the unnatural silence, and she turned her head to see who had announced himself.

An indistinct figure ambled towards her through the shadow cast by one of the trees, and then emerged into the dying rays of the late afternoon sun to reveal himself as a buckskin coloured earth pony who had doffed his straw hat to address the mare in his presence.

“Sure as sugar am!” she replied suddenly feeling her enthusiasm return in a rush that even she didn’t quite understand herself, but probably owed much to adrenaline.

“Well, mighty pleased to meet you Miss Applejack” he greeted warmly, striding forward to bump hooves and give her a friendly hug, “Name’s Golden Graham by the bye; you can call me Goldie. C’mon, let’s go – you’ve got a whole new family to meet!”

She looked at the way the sun glinted off the teeth protruding from his lopsided smile and felt her trepidation instantly melt away. He sure was welcoming enough to be an Apple, and that was good enough for her. However, it would take a bit of getting used to thinking of him as another Cousin Goldie. She cast her mind briefly back to the Apple family’s cat loving historian who had started this whole adventure off only a few short days ago, and the strange coincidence that had gifted both of them the same name.

“Why, you have no idea how good it is to meet you, cuzzin Goldie” said Applejack picking up on his dusty scent, before adding enquiringly, “I don’t suppose you have cats do you?”

Her host looked a little surprised to be asked about pets, but before he made any comment, he detected a distinct freshness under the inevitable staleness that the long journey had gifted her.

“If you would excuse me for being so forward” he began, “It’s almost as if I can smell fresh apples on you.”

She blushed a little before replying, “Well, I am an apple farmer. Guess it kinda goes with the territory.”

“Oh, sorry” he stammered, “Weren’t meant in a bad way. Just, we don’t get that nice smell unless we go shopping at the fruit stall is all.”

“Well, in that case, I have a treat for you” she said, stepping back to present her saddlebags to him, “If you undo the bag in front of you, you’ll find some apples fresh off a Sweet Apple Acres tree less than two days ago.”

He undid the strap and deftly flipped the top of the bag back to reveal the source of the appetising smell; shiny apples in deep red, pink and green.

“Lucky you didn’t undo the other side” she quipped, that’s got my travelling stuff in!”

“Oh, I sure wouldn’t want to go nosing around in there, Miss” he said apologetically, feeling a blush rising, but glad Applejack was facing away so wouldn’t see it spread across his face.

“Just help yourself to the one that takes your fancy” she offered.

“Well, I guess one of them bright green ones would hit the spot just about now” he said, “Thank you.”

“Would you get one for me as well?” she asked, feeling the strap being tightened again.

“Oh … er … sorry” he stammered, “Where are my manners? Of course, of course.”

He took out another and passed it to her, completely forgetting to try and hide the bright red blush this time.

“Why, thank you Sir” she smiled sweetly, sensing his embarrassment and doing her best to put him at his ease.

Goldie rolled his eyes in delight at the tasty snack, relishing the crispness and the perky taste dancing across his tongue, savouring every second of delight that it brought.

“You sure are lucky to have these growin’ on your farm” he said in muted tones of respect, “I’m guessing you can just go and pick one any time you want?”

“We don’t pick them” she said, we buck ‘em.”

“You do what now?” he asked fearing he had misheard.

“You brace your forehooves and kick out at the tree with your rear hooves and catch the apples as they fall out” she explained, “Why, how do you harvest round here?”

His eyes that had grown round with her description suddenly sparkled and creased as he began to laugh, “Why, I cannot imagine harvesting wheat and oats by kicking each stem in turn!”

Applejack looked at him with her head to one side; there was a joke here, but she couldn’t see it.

“C’mon now Miss” he said, breaking the silence, “Let’s take you home before it gets dark.”

She looked slightly puzzled that the joke had been left unexplained, but after a moment or two gave up trying to figure it out, shook her head to dismiss the thoughts and followed along happily. They rounded the corner at the end of the block and found a pair of bright yellow horse drawn vehicles pulled up alongside a sign that said ‘taxis only’ and headed for the one at the head of the line.

“Where will it be, Sir” asked the pony shackled to the front.

“High Plains Farm please” Goldie replied, earning a nod in reply.

“Just the two of you?” he enquired, “Any baggage?”

“Only the Lady’s saddlebags” he replied.

“Sure, on you get then buddy” came the business-like reply.

Goldie helped Applejack remove her saddlebags and hoisted them into the back of the cab, then extended a forehoof to assist her in. She didn’t need any help, but graciously accepted the chivalrous offer and climbed up onto the bench seat within. Next, she felt the cab rock as her cousin put his weight onto the step up and joined her on the wide seat.

“All aboard?” asked their driver from the front.

“Yup” Goldie confirmed, once having checked that his guest was comfortable, “Let’s go!”

7 High Plains Farm

The taxi containing the two farmers pulled away from the taxi rank and turned out onto the nearly deserted High Street. The smooth ride along the metalled roads didn’t last for long before the small town was left behind them and they found themselves being bumped and jostled on the uneven tracks that led through a featureless landscape of flat wheatfields.

The last few gilded rays of the setting sun skimmed across the waving heads of ripening wheat shimmering in the gentle late afternoon breeze. Suddenly, the relief of meeting her relative at the end of a day and a half of travelling made Applejack feel sleepy and her head started to nod. Before she knew it, her head had lolled over to one side and found itself resting on Goldie’s shoulder.

He had been watching her, ready to make smalltalk but had noticed her eyes getting heavy and wasn’t surprised when he felt her head suddenly bump against him and slide down until it was resting on his shoulder. He was a little embarrassed at the unexpected physical contact from a mare he had only just met and once again felt himself going red, but wasn’t going to disturb her as it looked like she needed the sleep. Within just a minute or two, his embarrassment had faded, replaced by a feeling of happiness that his cousin had been prepared to travel so far to meet him and had felt relaxed enough not to be on her guard with him. A gentle smile crossed his lips and he found himself leaning subconsciously into her too.

Despite the skilful driving that had seen the taxi manoeuvre left and right to avoid hitting any of the numerous bumps on their route, a sudden jolt told them that the wheels had found one of the many potholes that dotted the track they were on. Applejack awoke, startled, and realised that she had been resting on her host’s shoulder. Her mouth felt a little funny and she smacked her lips, realising with a feeling of dread that she had been slobbering. With a horrible sinking feeling, she turned to look at Goldie’s shoulder, praying she hadn’t … but then realised she had, and there were sticky drool marks all down his fur to confirm her fears.

“Welcome back, cuz” he said amiably, seeing his guest was now awake, but apparently completely unaware of the concerns preoccupying his travelling companion, “We’re almost there now; just a few more minutes will see us at a crossroads with a red mailbox on the corner, then it’s just a two-minute walk. We should just about do it before it gets dark.”

“Um, cousin, I think there’s something I should tell you …”

“Don’t worry none ‘bout fallin’ asleep on me cuz, we are family after all!”

Applejack bit her lip, and although she tried her best not to stare, kept finding her gaze drawn back to the slobber marks she had left on the friendly stallion, feeling a heightening sense of embarrassment.

The taxi pulled up to a halt and Applejack tore her eyes away swiftly from the marks on her cousin’s fur to see if she could find out what had happened, and caught sight of a red mailbox before remembering in a flash that this was where they were going to get off.

“Yup” said Goldie in response to a question that hadn’t been asked, “We’re here; High Plains Farm, home to generations of the Graham family.”

He got up and proffered his forehoof to Applejack, who again was pretty certain she didn’t need it, but accepted graciously and allowed herself to be escorted out of the taxi while her host reached in and retrieved her saddlebags.

By the time he had pulled the bags out and checked that they had left nothing behind, he saw that Applejack had walked round to see the stallion who had served so well as their driver and was opening her purse.

“No, cuzzin” he interrupted, easing himself between his guest and the taxi driver, “Please, you’re a guest of the Graham’s. I wouldn’t hear of you coming all this way to see us and then making you pay for the taxi fare too.”

The driver didn’t much care who paid him; he was used to seeing all sorts, and smiled patiently as Goldie passed over the bits, along with a handsome tip.

“Why, thank you Sir” he acknowledged, “Have a good evening and don’t forget to ask for me by name when you want to be picked up again; name’s Hackney Claridge; want me to write it down for you?”

“I’m sure we’ll be able to remember, thank you” he replied.

“OK” said the driver with a smile, “Be sure you do, now if you’ll excuse me, I’ll be on my way.”

Applejack looked at the red mailbox and then at the yellow taxi as it headed back to town, taking in the absolute flatness of the terrain.

“High Plains Farm?” she asked tentatively.

“Oh yes, that’s right” replied her host, picking up her saddlebags and hoisting them onto his own back as they set off towards some inviting farm buildings, “Back when I was young, we had a visit from the Equestria Geological Survey, and they reckoned this here farm was almost a whole one foot higher than anything for miles around.”

Applejack scanned around, desperate to see a difference in height anywhere, and failing.

“Of course, they came back a day or so later and said they’d made a mistake and it weren’t no higher than anything else around these parts, but the name kinda stuck. Now, I’m not prepared to say whether or not some young colt of about my age, who may have just so happened to look a whole lot like me, may have made a few tiny little adjustments to their equipment while they was having a tea break in our house, but truth is for a while, this here farm was the highest place on their map!”

He nudged her gently and they both laughed happily as the first lights turned on in the windows of the farmhouse in front of them. Inside a few ponies could be seen hurriedly making final preparations and then the front door was opened, bright light spilling out onto the path before them.

“Come on in” came a friendly voice silhouetted in the doorway, beckoning welcomingly, “Dinner’s ready in another ten minutes.”

Suddenly, a much younger pony, about the same size as Apple Bloom, pushed past the legs of the pony in the doorway and bounded down the path to meet their guests.

“Hey, hey, Teddy Bear, calm down!” Goldie called out chuckling in his evident delight in meeting up with the youngster again.

“Are you really from the other side of Equestria?” asked the colt’s voice, light from the open doorway gleaming in his expectant eyes.

“Now that all depends on how you look at it” replied Applejack with a gentle smile, lowering her head to greet him, “You see, to me, you’re on the other side of Equestria.”

“But you’re near Canterlot, aren’t you?” he persisted, “What’s it like there? Do you have tea with the Princesses?”

“Now then, Teddy Bear” chided Goldie softly, “We’ve got plenty of time to swap stories. Yes, Miss Applejack here is from near Canterlot, but I’m sure the Princesses are far too busy running the kingdom to take tea with all of their subjects.”

“Well, actually” chipped in Applejack, “Me and my friends do meet up with the Princesses from time to time …”

“You do …?” gasped the colt, his mouth falling open. Even Goldie looked at her surprised, but by now they were at the door and a kindly mare ushered them in.

“Hello dear” she greeted warmly, “My name’s Honey Graham, do come in. You must be exhausted; come in and rest your hooves. I’m so looking forward to hearing all about you.”

Applejack found herself swept in on a wave of hospitality, much like she and her family would have given had the situation been reversed.

She noticed Honey drawing Goldie’s attention discretely to the marks on his shoulder, after which he hurriedly disappeared, before returning a minute later with an obvious damp patch where he had clearly been told to wash off the unsightly mark. Applejack knew what that mark was and felt herself blush over again; she never had gotten around to telling him about it.

Once the hurly burly of shaking hooves and giving friendly hugs had died down, Applejack was shown into the kitchen where the family all swiftly converged and ushered her to the place of honour at one end of a large wooden table, not unlike the one at Sweet Apple Acres. Once she was seated, the old stallion they called Grandpa poured her a glass of amber liquid before decanting the remainder into glasses in front of the other prepared place settings, and taking his seat at the head of the table immediately opposite her.

“I propose a toast” announced Grandpa, “To our dear cousin Applejack.”

“To Applejack” echoed around the table and glasses were raised to their guest whose cheeks were turning a shade of red.
Everypony except one took a drink, the young colt looking enquiringly up to the younger of the two stallions before he took a sip from his own glass.

“Yes, it’s alright” said the stallion reassuringly, “You’re old enough to have cider when you’re at home with us now.”

“Oh, thank you!” replied the colt, happily taking a big gulp, then pulling a face before he looked questioningly up at the stallion.

Applejack didn’t recognise the label on the bottle, but although it looked fancy, the cider itself wasn’t a patch on what was produced on her own farm, so she felt a touch of sympathy for the young colt.

“We got it in especially for you” said Honey, “Knowing you was an apple farmer. Thought it would make you feel right at home.”

“Why thank you kindly” said Applejack doffing her hat, “But truthfully, it’s the love in your hearts that makes me feel right at home here.”

8 Celestia's Problem

Five generations earlier

It was a sunny morning.

Celestia had lowered the moon and raised the sun to give her little ponies another beautiful day.

She was pleased to be doing what she could for them, but secretly wished she could enjoy the sunshine like most of her subjects would; however, today she was scheduled to hold a meeting that was going to be tricky, and she knew it.

She sighed. If only her Sister had been there to support her, like she had nine hundred years ago, that would have made the burden so much easier to bear. Celestia had been down this self-pitying train of thought many times before, during times of war and natural disaster, but there had always been a focus, am immediacy to whatever problem had been bedevilling Equestria. Today, they had to face a different kind of problem, one that instead of having a simple focus had been a slowly evolving issue that she had been putting off addressing, and it was unlikely that there would be any easy solution.

Celestia sat on the throne and drummed her hooves. Sure, there were guards, advisors and servants with her, all poised to offer whatever help they could, but she felt alone, desperately alone.

She made eye contact with a servant from the kitchen staff, who at her unbeckoned command advanced towards the seated white figure, ready to accept her order.

“Cake, please” she said with a sigh, not because she needed sustenance, but because it was something pleasant to distract her, “And tea.”

“What type of cake, Your Majesty?” asked the servant timorously.

“Sunshine cake, if you please” she replied with the barest flicker of a smile.

The servant backed away respectfully, then headed straight for the side door used by serving staff rather than towards the large ceremonial doors that stood protected by two members of the Royal Guard.

Celestia reverted to drumming her hooves and looked up to the high windows from where the sunlight, her sunlight, was streaming in. How she envied those who did not have to wrestle with affairs of State.

A chatter of indistinguishable multiple voices echoed from somewhere along the stone corridors and disgorged itself into the Throne Room accompanied by the sound of massed hoofsteps.

Celestia stiffened in her seat.

The sound of conversations suddenly muted as the voices hushed in proximity of the Throne Room out of respect for their Monarch, leaving the unaccompanied sound of hoofsteps to build to a crescendo before stopping at the large doors.

The guards snapped smartly to attention and parted to allow a stream of officials and their advisors to enter for their allotted audience.

“Mostly earth ponies” Celestia mused to herself, “I suppose that makes sense.”

The party all bowed respectfully and settled themselves waiting for Celestia’s approval in order to proceed. Then, the Head of the Equestria Census Bureau stepped forward:

“Your Majesty” he announced, clearing his throat, “Our calculations suggest that if the population of Equestria keeps increasing according to our projections, then the amount of food we currently produce may not be sufficient to feed everypony, especially if there is blight or some other disease that affects crops, or even if the weather changes to any great extent. “

Another pony moved up alongside the one who had just spoken and announced himself as being the Head of the Department for Agriculture:

“Your Majesty, my colleague here is correct. The pegasi have been working closely with us to ensure that they deliver the optimum weather for crop growth, but we are riding along a very thin line with little room to accommodate unanticipated events, which, as Your Majesty is aware, can strike with little or no warning. For example, if we were to enter a state of famine or even war, then we would be digging into our stored food reserves from day one, with no hope of maintaining delivery in the longer term.”

“In short …” he was cut off as Celestia spoke up.

“In short” she interrupted, “We have to find new ways of increasing food production or the consequences for my subjects will be grave.”

“Quite so, Your Majesty” he concurred.

“I have heard our scientists speak of new techniques for increasing plant yield” she prompted with the faintest hint of optimism.

“Yes, Your Majesty, but these offer only incremental improvements. What we need is a radical boost to our food producing capacity. From the research we have done, I have to advise that the only way forward is to set aside more land for agriculture; this is the only way to deliver food security for the future.”

A third pony stepped forward and pointed to a map of Equestria and surrounding lands being unrolled by two assistants. He introduced himself as the Head if the Equestria Geological Survey and gave a quick tour of Equestria, pointing out the centres of population and areas already used for intensive agriculture. He then pointed to a few small areas with limited agricultural potential, drawing the audience’s attention to their limited size. Once this had sunk in, he went on to point to the neighbouring lands, explaining their topography, suitability for agriculture, and importantly, who owned them.

Celestia wanted to bury her muzzle in her hooves, but knew that such displays although providing temporary relief, only served to dishearten those around her, so remained stoic. As she stared at the map, she noticed that the presenter was circling an area with his pointer. She had zoned out for a moment, but picked up on the words still hanging in the air:
“… great plains would be ideally suited to cereal crops.”

“Who did you say these lands belonged to, please” she asked.

“The Buffalo, Your Majesty” he replied, “They graze in nomadic herds without a fixed settlement.”

“I am acquainted with them, but appear to have been remiss in not keeping up contact as regularly as I should have liked” she mused, “Probably because we have been through rather turbulent times in other areas, and focus has by necessity been elsewhere. They are fundamentally friendly, as I recall, but have very fixed views based on ancestral beliefs. Perhaps there is a chance …”

“Your Majesty?” the Head of the Equestria Geological Survey questioned.

“Is there any viable alternative?” she enquired.

“Not as would give best return per hectare, Your Majesty.”

“Then that’s settled. I must meet with the leader of the Buffalo tribes and see if he would be amenable to some kind of trade that would allow us onto these lands. Thank you; unless there is anything further, you are dismissed.”

As the ponies all bowed and left the Throne Room, the servant arrived with the tea and cake that Celestia had ordered and laid it out in front of her mistress before retreating once more.

The Throne Room was quiet again.

A flute of steam twirled upwards from the spout of the teapot and the glazing on the cake glistened invitingly before her, beckoning her to sample its tasty delights. How she wished more than ever that her Sister had been there to share it with her.

Celestia began to plan out in her mind what she needed to do, staring vacantly at the steam as the tea cooled and the vaporous spiralling form receded back into the spout, registering on some subconscious level that the tea was now too cold to serve.

Finally, she broke her stare away from the teapot and raised her head, eyes alive with an expression of renewed purpose, her gaze falling upon her trusted aide, whom she beckoned over with the wave of a forehoof. He trotted over and bowed deeply before ascending up to the throne where his Princess waited to brief him on her plans. Nodding as she spoke, he jotted down a series of notes on a parchment before rolling it up and excusing himself to make the necessary preparations. The plans made, Celestia suddenly found that her appetite had returned, and looked back at the cake. It would be a shame to waste it, she reasoned, and cut herself a generous slice before doing anything else.

Within minutes, pegasi messengers from the elite Wonderbolts display team were on their way towards the great plains, carrying word to the garrisons at towns and cities on the way that their Princess would be visiting. Less than an hour later, Celestia mounted her Royal chariot behind four of the strongest pure white pegasi of the Royal Guard, a pair of valises stowed safely in the trunk.

At her command they took off and soon became a pinprick in the sky.

9 Buffalo

The long journey had been punctuated by stops at towns and cities along her route where the charioteers had been replaced. Each time, she had stayed long enough to capitalise upon the opportunity of meeting with numbers of her subjects who rarely got to see her, and had met with local dignitaries, sharing a space in her Royal chariot for them to parade through the streets with her in front of cheering crowds.

After days of travel, Celestia arrived at the official boundary of Equestrian territory. There was no sign, no fence or anything else to mark the transition of sovereignty into this new space. Had this been the Dragon Lands, then she would have had to have been careful of eagerly patrolled no-fly zones, but to the best of her knowledge, Buffalo had yet to master the air. However, she was aware that she was now the visitor, or even trespasser into lands where her rank and seniority as Princess held little sway.

Finding the buffalo had not been easy. She had ordered the charioteers to fly higher than usual in order to cover more ground, but it was only on the second day that they had finally caught sight of a plume of dust in the distance and gone to investigate. Sure enough, a large herd had been stampeding and kicking up clouds of dust visible for miles.

Celestia directed her charioteers to shadow and observe until the majestic animals came to a halt by a large buffalo wallow, where they stopped to catch their breath. The chariot put down a safe distance away and teh Princess got out, wings furled to her back, specifically trying to avoid creating an imposing image.

She looked about her at the massive animals, her sense of smell telling her very clearly that they had been running for some time and could most certainly all benefit from a good wash, but doubted that the wallow would go far towards achieving that aim. However, she was the interloper and knew she must play her hoof by their customs and traditions.

Celestia looked around for the most dominant of the buffalo and settled upon a particularly large member of the herd, wearing three eagle feathers in his war bonnet. He eyed her suspiciously as she approached and gave a warning cry alerting the others who all stopped and turned their attention to the latest arrival, even though those furthest away could not see her due to their bad eyesight.

“Excuse me, Sir” Celestia began, recounting her knowledge of Buffalo traditions, and bowing deeply, “I am Princess Celestia of Equestria, and I recognise that by your wearing three eagle feathers, I am addressing a most courageous buffalo, perhaps the leader of this fine herd?”

He stared back at her, sizing her up.

“No, that would be me. Hummphh” came the voice of another even bigger animal emerging dripping wet from the wallow. Is it really you, Princess Celestia?”

“Yes, yes it is” she smiled broadly, “Can it truly be that I am in the presence of Chief Thundercharge, the legendary buffalo who led his herd on the only stampede that ever made the earth move?”

“Hummphh, yes” he replied with a smile, and then added conspiratorially so only she could hear, “Although, between you and me, I think that earthquake happening at the same time helped build my reputation!”

They both chuckled and Chief Thundercharge called to the fiercest braves who had come forward to gather around their Chief, ready to defend him if needed: “Stand down! This is a friend. You may go about your business and enjoy the wallow while the Princess and I catch up on old times. We will camp here tonight. Hummphh!”

The braves went back to relay the message to the rest of the herd and some Buffalo came forward to enjoy the wallow, whilst others set about raising their tepees. Some of the younger ones, under the watchful eye of a pair of braves, went over to see the charioteers and offer them water.

Celestia and Chief Thundercharge discussed family for hours as was buffalo tradition. He reeled off names of all the bulls and cows he had sired, recounting all of their individual strengths, be that courage in battle or accolades in buffalo performing arts.

“And you, Princess Celestia, how many stallions and mares have you brought forth?”

There was a silence, a brief pause while she reflected sadly on what would never be, before recovering to say, “I look after all off the little ponies in Equestria. Whilst I may not be their direct biological mother, I think of myself as spiritual mother to them all.”

“Hummphh” he agreed, “Good answer.”

“Now, Chief Thundercharge, the day is drawing to its close. Perhaps you would like to share with me a very special moment?”

“It is not yet dark” he commented, “How then do you say that the day is drawing to a close?”

“It is time for the sun to get some rest and the moon to look over us, wouldn’t you say?”

Intrigued, he stood as Celestia rose to her hooves and pointed her horn towards the sun, drawing it down to the horizon. He walked softly up alongside her, keen not to break the magic unfolding before him. Now the sun was down, he could see clearly the yellow glow from his guest’s horn as it reached out to summon the moon and place it in the sky.

Celestia powered down her magic and turned to her host, catching the look of awe that appeared to be frozen on his face.

“You do this every night?” he asked.

“Yes” she replied simply, “And every morning too.”

“For the many moons we have known each other, I have never seen that.”

“Few have. I only share it with those I consider the closest of friends.”

There was silence for a moment before he asked, “You will be eating with us tonight, I trust?”

“Yes” she replied, “If that pleases you. However, I bring you gifts from Equestria that you may like, if you will excuse me?”

Chief Thundercharge nodded and Celestia walked slowly towards the little enclave where her four charioteers were entertaining the young buffalo, and those older ones who pretended to be guarding the young ones, but who were in practice just as keen to find out more about these ponies. Immediately, they all rose to their hooves in attention, but Celestia quickly stood them down.

“Would one of you please fetch my valises from the chariot and bring them over to me with the Chief? Thank you.”

All four prepared to run the errand, but the most senior pulled rank and stood his team down while he went to the chariot himself, returning with the large bags as requested and depositing them with the Princess.

Celestia opened one and presented the contents to her host. The smell of fragrant herbs invaded his nostrils eliciting a pleasant gasp of surprise.

“It is a mixture of special types of herbaceous grasses we know as blue gramma, sand dropseed and little bluestem” she explained, “I think you'll find they taste even better than they smell. Care to try?”

“I … I have never smelled anything so tasty” he gasped, “May I?”

“Of course. I brought them for you.”

He took a tentative nibble, and his taste buds performed all manner of exotic dances in their delight, then he helped himself to some more, making the most gratifying sounds in his gastronomic enchantment.

“Princess Celestia!” he exclaimed, “You must tell me where we can find such wonderful food!”

“Well …” she began, knowing she was reeling him in, “We can’t grow much in Equestria because the land isn’t good enough, but it just so happens that the land here on the great plains is perfect. However, the plants will need constant attention from pony farmers to make then grow.”

She was exaggerating just a bit, but considered such a gambit to be fair in negotiations where the future of her ponies was at stake.

“We would be happy to grow them for you, but recognise that this is your land, so would need some kind of treaty to allow us to farm here. And whilst our farmers were here, we would like to grow food for our ponies too. Would such an arrangement be acceptable?”

“Hummphh” he snorted, “Do you happen to have any more of those herbs with you?”

“Yes, I do. I was wondering whether you might like to invite some of your family or other members of the tribe along to try them too?”

“They are so good; it would not be honourable to withhold such treats from them.”

Chief Thundercharge summoned his braves and arranged for the whole herd to come past and sample the delightful new herbs brought by the pony Princess. In response, Celestia opened her second, larger valise ready for the buffalo to try.

Celestia and Chief Thundercharge stood back and watched the buffalo file past in turn, each trying a small sample as they went. The result was euphoric; all of them displaying the same ecstatic delight as they smelled and then tasted the herbs.

“You have made treaties with my father, my father’s father and my father’s father’s father, and many before them too” said Chief Thundercharge, “I believe we can come to an honourable agreement.”

“Some land in exchange for a regular tithe of herbs perhaps?” prompted Celestia, "Maybe in time we could come to sow some of the herbs across your land, if that is what you choose?"

“I believe we can come to an honourable agreement” he repeated with a smile, “Now, do you happen to have any more herbs with you …?”

10 In the Picture

Back to the present day

The evening had been great fun, Applejack feeling part of the family right from the start. She was pestered mercilessly about the Apple family, Ponyville and her adventures as the bearer of an Element of Harmony, let alone her connections to the Princesses. In her turn, when she could get a question of her own in, she learned a few interesting things about the Graham family. Firstly, she found out that Goldie and his younger brother Teddy Bear were the sons of Cinnamon and Honey Graham, and that the old stallion, known as Grandpa, wasn’t actually a Graham at all, but was Honey Graham’s father. Their family name was Chex and he had named his daughter Honey Chex, which had got changed on her marriage.

Whilst Grandpa Chex may have been respected as the family’s figurehead, Applejack quickly worked out that this was an honorary position, as the household was run by Cinnamon Graham, who also controlled the family’s farming business.

Cinnamon Jack, the old stallion whose exploits had raised the question about their families being connected, turned out to have been Cinnamon Graham’s grandfather, who by Applejack’s reckoning would have been about the same age as Granny Smith’s parents.

Although the Graham’s family tree wasn’t as well documented as the Apple’s, it appeared that back in Cinnamon Jack’s day, a Royal decree had been issued, requesting farmers with a spirit of adventure to relocate into the newly created great plains area in the hope that they would be able to provide food for the increasing population. He had accepted the challenge and clearly made a success for himself and his family, but that alone did not prove that the families were linked.

This was where the family history became a little vague. It was known that Cinnamon Jack had been keen on experimenting with growing different crops, because there were newspaper cuttings that documented his having won a number of awards at plant shows for different species, such as tomatoes and potatoes. There was even a very old photograph of him standing beside a giant marrow. Applejack looked at the picture, admiring his handsome features; he bore more than a passing resemblance to Big Mac, but the waxed moustache gave him a very old-fashioned appearance that unfortunately reminded her of that charlatan Flam of the Flim Flam brothers.

It was clear that Cinnamon Jack had been able to turn his hooves to a variety of different crops, but unless it could be shown that his family had descended from apple farming stock, there was no way of positively establishing that this Cinnamon Jack was the same as the one from the Apple family, even if the dates did match up.

The evening had flown by and it was only when Teddy Bear kept rocking his head and eventually fell asleep at the table did they stop to check the time. It was already past one in the morning, and so Honey put her youngest son to bed, then came back down to join the party once more, determined not to miss anything. The conversation flowed with no hint of abating, but finally Cinnamon had to declare that he would be up for work in a few hours, and this acted as the prompt to get everypony to follow suit, even though they didn’t feel tired.

Applejack went to bed feeling a warm familial glow, and just like with the Pie family, decided that it didn’t actually matter whether the ancestry could be traced or not, as far as she was concerned these kind folks were Apples to the core.

Applejack had very little sleep before her body clock kicked in and decided to rouse her in time to do the chores on the farm. She did not want to think how little sleep she had enjoyed and went down into the kitchen where she found Cinnamon making coffee and breakfast.

“Hey cuzzin” he said cheerfully, not betraying his lack of sleep, “I hope you slept well – what you had that is. That’s the trouble with us farming folk; we never can lay in! Come on, share breakfast with me, won’t you?”

He poured out coffee for both of them and continued, “Sorry to have kept you up so late, but we was all really interested in you and your life in Ponyville and all that stuff about old Cinnamon Jack.”

“Ah really enjoyed it all too, cuzzin” agreed Applejack, before realising that her country accent had begun to peep through, now she was so tired.

“I’m sorry to say I’ll have to leave you shortly” said Cinnamon, “Work to do; I’m sure you’ll understand being a farmer yourself.”

“Sure as sugar do” she replied, “A farmer’s work is never done.”

“Amen to that” he replied, shuffling his freshly cooked breakfast onto two plates, one for each of them.

“Oh! Something I should have done last night!” exclaimed Applejack as she ran up to her room. In less than a minute she was back down with her saddlebags.

“Here” she said flipping one of them open, “Take some to keep you goin’ at work today. They was growin’ at Sweet Apple Acres only two … er … three days ago, so they should still be nice and fresh.”

“Thank you kindly” he replied with a broad grin, “That cider last night sure put me in mind of having me a nice juicy apple.”

They tucked into breakfast around the kitchen table, just like Applejack imagined Granny Smith, Big Mac and Apple Bloom were doing right now, so many miles away.

“You know, Cinnamon” said Applejack, “Shucks, you don’t mind me callin’ you Cinnamon do you, Mr Graham?”

He waved aside the unnecessary formality by casually twisting his fork in the air and let her continue.

“Would you mind if I had another look at that picture of ol’ Cinnamon Jack?”

“Surely. It’s in the sideboard over there; I’ll get it soon as we’ve finished” he said, looking at her enquiringly, “You think you’ve got an idea that might help sort out this mystery?”

“Maybe” she said, “But he is a handsome stallion, and I would like to try and bond with him through his picture.”

Cinnamon downed the last of his breakfast then washed and carefully dried his hooves before going to retrieve the old picture. Taking her cue, Applejack stuffed the last of her breakfast into her mouth and washed and dried her hooves too so she would be ready to receive the irreplaceable photograph without doing it any harm.

“You got an eyeglass anywhere around?” she asked.

“You’re on to something, aren’t you?” he replied, an infectious grin spreading across his face, “Nearest thing I can offer is Grandpa’s glasses, but you’d have to ask him nicely.”

“OK, thanks. When does he get up?”

“You’re keen. You know, I’d sure like to know what’s going through your mind right now.”

“Just a hunch” said Applejack pensively.

“He’ll be the last one up” said Cinnamon, “You understand, on account of his age.”

“Sure, I’ll wait” Applejack agreed.

“Well, I’ll be off” said Cinnamon, “Thanks for the apples. I can’t wait to see what you’ve found out when I get back tonight. Bye, cuzzin!”

With that, he waved and left the house, leaving Applejack alone with the picture.

Honey came down a little later to fuss over her guest, keen to find out what attracted Applejack so much about the picture. She explained that she was waiting for Grandpa so as she could ask to use his glasses as there was something she wanted to check.

“Oh, don’t worry about him” Honey reassured, “He won’t mind.”

With that, she left the room and came back a few seconds later waving them around like they were a prize.

“There you go sweetie” she said, passing them over expectantly.

Applejack opened them carefully and slid them on, holding the photograph in one hoof whilst sliding the glasses further up and down her muzzle until she got the detail of the picture in close focus. She rotated the photograph until it was upside down, before putting it down and sliding the glasses off and folding them neatly on the table.

“He was an Apple” she said simply, “Your Cinnamon Jack was an apple farmer at his roots, so he must be the same as the one in our family tree. We are related!”

What do you mean sweetie?” asked Honey with her forehoof on her chest, looking like she might faint at any moment.

“The box” said Applejack in a hushed voice, “Look at the box the marrow’s resting on.”

Honey looked at the photograph as she had hundreds of times before, but saw nothing unusual.

“There’s a label stuck on it” said Applejack, “It’s the wrong way up ‘cos the box is upside down.”

Honey took her father’s glasses and went through the same routine of trying to focus.

“Read out what you see” said Applejack, her excitement building.

“Cinnamon … Jack … Orchards … Canterlot.”

Honey sat down, breathing fast.

“That’s what I thought it said” confirmed Applejack, feeling fully composed and totally vindicated, “The only crops I know grown in an orchard are apples.”

“Then we are related!” shouted Honey as she grabbed Applejack and began dancing a jig in the kitchen, tears of happiness streaming down her muzzle, “We are related!”

3 Big Sky Country

Applejack awoke as dawn was beginning to break. She stirred and pushed her hat back to give herself an unobstructed view of the palate of colours forming on the eastern horizon. They were as beautiful as those she was used to seeing at sweet Apple Acres, but there was so much more of them, painted generously across the wide-open expanse of sky. The vibrant orchestra of purples, oranges and pinks reacted as if startled to see the sunrise, and after a brief but glorious display, melted away to leave the sun alone in an azure blue sky.

The first rays of sun revealed the extent of the featureless flat plains the train was travelling over, the only shadow that she could see anywhere being that cast by the train itself, and at the moment, that was long indeed, like a series of black rectangles shadowing the dark side of the train.

She hadn’t woken due to any discomfort, in fact she had enjoyed a particularly good night’s sleep after the night before, but had automatically woken at around the same time as she would have on the farm. How that Rainbow Dash managed to lay in was a talent she hadn’t grasped, being a hardworking country pony always with plenty to do.

The scenery soon became monotonous and Applejack opened up her saddle bags for one of the apples she had packed. She knew the conductor would be coming round a while later on, probably reflecting the demands of ponies who ran to a schedule governed by city time, rather than one preferred by country ponies who had to be up and ready to go before first light. He would doubtless come round and pamper her again as he had yesterday and arrange a magnificent breakfast, but since she was used to gathering round the kitchen table with her kinfolk about now, an apple seemed a good way of taking the edge off her appetite as well as sharing some kind of communion with them, at least in spirit if not in body.

The taste of the apple brought back to her everything that was good about home and she took her time eating it, calling to mind all manner of pleasant memories that fortified her spirit as well as her stomach and prepared her for the day ahead.

She stared outside again looking for any animals of any kind, large or small, and saw nothing, not even a bird, only the mesmeric flash of telegraph poles that had somehow become prominent in the absence of anything else. Applejack rummaged through the other side of her saddle bags and dug out the bits of the Apple family tree that Goldie had prepared as a quid pro quo for the excerpt Golden Graham had sent them. She read through it again, even though she knew it off the top of her head, and recalled fondly little anecdotes from each of the family members, bringing a smile to her face.

“Good morning Miss” the conductor greeted warmly when he made his first stop of the day to check up on Applejack, “I trust you slept well?”

“Darned tootin’!” she replied enthusiastically, “Gotta say though, it felt mighty strange not having chores to do when I got up. Say, you want to stop and chat for a while?”

“Sorry, Miss. It wouldn’t do for a company employee to be seen on duty relaxing in the most exclusive seats” said the conductor before presenting her with the breakfast menu.

“Oh right” said Applejack sadly, “I guess I can see that. Sure wouldn’t want you to get in trouble on my account.”

“Thank you; it was a very nice offer” said the conductor, “And I do look forward to serving you again on your way back; I presume you will be making a return journey in the next few weeks?”

“I guess so. Probably in the next few days.”

“OK, I’ll be sure to look out for you” he said, “But in the meantime do make the most of breakfast. We’re on schedule and should be pulling in to Branding at 11 am, which is just before we serve lunch. As there are two places here, I don’t see why I couldn’t put together a packed lunch to serve as the breakfast for the other passenger if you would like?”

“Why thanks, if it’s not too much bother, that is.”

“It would be my pleasure” he assured and gave her a genuine smile before leaving to see to the next passengers.

***

“Ten minutes to Branding!” came the call over the speaker in the carriage, and Applejack took the opportunity to double check she had everything stowed in her saddle bags; most importantly the family tree information, but also the packed lunch that she had somehow crammed in with the apples. She wanted to write a letter of thanks to the railroad company for the excellent service she had received, but suddenly realised she didn’t even know the name of the conductor who had been so kind to her. Just then, her concentration broke when she felt a slight lurch as the brakes were applied, heralding the start of the deceleration into Branding station.

Applejack looked around; this journey hadn’t been nearly as bad as she had feared, and she felt almost sad to be leaving this little home from home behind. The first few outlying houses and random buildings went past, and she looked at them with more interest than she would have ordinarily, specifically because they were the first features of any note that she had seen all day.

A final quick look at the map suggested strongly that Branding only existed to act as a convenient stop for trains leaving the main railroad and going off to Whinnieapolis, and her initial impression from what she could see of their approach certainly showed a side of the city that was less developed than Canterlot or Vanhoover had been. They continued their deceleration as the buildings went past ever slower, until the train pulled in under a purpose-built roof that she reasoned was part of the platform structure, and came to a stop with a slight jerk.

“Branding, this is Branding. Alight here for connecting trains to Whinnieapolis” announced the speaker in the carriage, “Passengers leaving us here are encouraged to check they have left nothing behind and please be careful when stepping off the train onto the platform. We look forward to seeing you again soon and wish you a pleasant onward journey.”

Applejack recognised the voice immediately and couldn’t suppress a smile at hearing the friendly tones of the conductor one more time, leaving the train with a skip in her step. Her hooves felt a little odd on the first solid ground for a whole day and as she turned to take one last look at the huge metal monster that had brought her safely into the station, she saw him throw a friendly salute to her from behind a window. She stopped to wave her hat and holler a loud “thank you!” that cut through the hustle and bustle of the station, stopping everypony in their tracks as surely as they had been turned to stone. In the silence that followed, she suddenly felt her cheeks turning a bright crimson colour and caught one last look at him as he said something into his microphone, clearly delivering another passenger announcement, and blew him a farewell kiss which he acknowledged with a cheery wave.

As the shocked passengers and railroad employees returned to what they had been doing before the loud shout had rudely cut across them, Applejack took one last look at her friendly conductor, and then set about finding the train to Whinnieapolis, sincerely hoping their paths would cross again.