Mr. Maple Packs His Saddlebags
Mr. Maple Packs His Saddlebags
There were many things the ponies of Quiet Meadows could rely upon.
The sun rose in the east and set in the west.
The mail came between 1pm to 4pm.
Ol’ Doc Floss, the town dentist, would have the same three magazines in his office.
Winter Wrap Up would be done by 2pm and everyone would arrive the center of town to have some of Cinnamon Stick’s famous donuts to celebrate.
Mr. Maple.
The last one didn’t need anything else said. For it wasn’t one single thing the stallion did that made him reliable… he himself seemed to radiate reliability. More so than even the other reliable things in their lives. Half a year ago the sun had decided to not merely rise in the east but spin about like mad. And before that it had been delayed in rising by about 6 hours. Both of these had been annoying and still led to the occasional debate about what times the clocks should be set. Sometimes the mail came a touch earlier if the post office two towns down was light on letters and packages. Doc Floss once got a new magazine but tossed it away when his patients complained that 4 magazines were simply too much. And one time Cinnamon Stick decided to serve cider along with his donuts which had led to such a commotion that it was put into the town bylaws never to do that again (cider could be had after but not WITH the donuts).
Mr. Maple though was completely and utterly reliable. He stayed on his farm for the most part, making maple syrup (as would be expected of someone with his lineage, being the latest in a long line of Maples) and making sure his trees were cared for. That wasn’t to say he was antisocial… far from it. He came into town plenty of times, would have breakfast at The Little Blue Plate Diner once a week (always ordering two eggs, two pieces of toast, and a glass of apple juice), assist during the Running of the Leaves (setting a standard pace and having roughly the same finishing time 15 years straight), and attend the town council meetings (not to speak up but because it was his ‘civic duty’ to do so). Everyone knew him and were pleased to see him and if they came to visit him he would welcome them inside and share some maple sticks and a glass of lemonade and chat about the weather or the plans to add new packed dirt to Main Street.
But Mr. Maple didn’t alter his schedule too much. He liked to keep his routine: care for the farm, make sure that his lawn was always cut, the shingles were in place on the barn, and in the winter the snow was plowed away so it was easy to get up the walk. He didn’t go traveling to the big city or anything like that… in fact everyone in Quiet Meadows was quite sure that Mr. Maple hadn’t gone more than a few miles from his home or the town in his entire life. He was a content pony, happy with his life and those around him.
Thus it was that August 29th, 1001 CE (Celestia Eternal) was seen as merely yet another day by all the ponies of Quiet Meadows as they got up and started their days. Nothing special at all about it, save for the small fact that Dr. Stitch, the kindly unicorn physician from Bitchester, had come for his twice a year check-ups on the town folks. Some might have found it odd that Quiet Meadows had a dentist but not a doctor but such was life out in the quiet parts of Equestria; Dr. Stitch would travel around to all the neighboring towns, and Doc Floss would do the same for Quiet Meadows’ neighbor towns who didn’t have a dentist of their own.
And the first patient scheduled that morning was Mr. Maple.
“All set?” the farmer asked, brushing a few strands of his deep blue mane out of his eyes as Dr. Stitch placed the tongue depressor in the trash. Mr. Maple had taken the first appointment of the day, figuring that it would be nice for everyone else to get a bit extra sleep and he honestly didn’t mind getting up early. He commonly was up before even the roosters crowed, checking on his trees before making breakfast.
“Absolutely,” the doctor told the maize-coated stallion, looking over his notes. “You’re my easiest patient, Mr. Maple. Always in great shape, no injuries that need to be taken care of… just last week I had to cancel two appointments because some daredevil flyer trying to get into the Wonderbolts injured her wing trying to do a Double Rain… something or other, I honestly stopped paying attention because she was going on a mile a minute. Plus she wanted to go see her doctor in Ponyville and just needed me to get her well enough that she could head out without too much pain.”
“Right,” Mr. Maple said with a slight smile. “I can see that. If I got injured in a strange place I’d be leery of any doctor that wasn’t you. I wouldn’t take offense to it, if I were you.”
Stitch chuckled at that thought. “That would be a rare thing to see… you in a strange place.” He turned, continuing to laugh at the absurd idea, not noticing the way Mr. Maple’s brow furrowed at how quickly the doctor dismissed the idea of him being in any place that wasn’t Quiet Meadows. “But like I was saying, you are my easiest patient. You watch your diet, don’t try out new dishes that can upset your stomach, not into dangerous hobbies… heck, you were smart in your youth and that has helped you now.”
“What do you mean?” Mr. Maple asked as the doctor put his paperwork in his briefcase to be filed at his home office later.
The doctor gave a mild shrug. “A lot of times injuries and sicknesses from childhood can affect one in adulthood. But you never played any sports so you have no broken bones that didn’t heal properly. Never got the pony pox or any other strange disease one might get from traveling abroad, and you know how some of those diseases can cause other ones when you reach adulthood. Things like that.” He laughed to himself as he went over to a cabinet to put some things away; just minor medical equipment he wouldn’t need for the next patient. “You’ve lived a quiet life and will be able to live a long one as well. You know what they say… live fast, die young.”
Mr. Maple though wasn’t chuckling or laughing at that. He wasn’t actually angry either, or depressed. Just… thoughtful. A quiet life. That’s all he’d ever wanted, ever since he’d been a foal. But to have it laid out to him so bluntly…
“Oops!” Stitch exclaimed, Mr. Maple turning just as a jar of white powder fell to the ground, producing a thick cloud that spread over their coats and burned both their eyes. “Oh, I am so sorry! That is powdered Weeping Willow bark.”
“It’s okay,” Mr. Maple said, blinking back tears. His eyes stung something fierce and he couldn’t stop himself from crying as his eyes desperately tried to rid themselves of the grit. “Is it harmful?”
“Not… not at all,” Stitch got out. The powder had gotten on his coat, making him look rather pale, and Mr. Maple knew he must look the same way. “Just causes brief irritation. Just takes a bit to clear out, though a shower helps. I think I’ll have to postpone my next appointment to wash this off.” He gestured at himself, flooding his eyes.
“Think I’ll skip breakfast at The Little Blue Plate and do the same. Thanks Doctor.” Mr. Maple walked out of the office and down a hall towards the lobby, pausing when he noticed the schoolmare, Sweetgrass, sitting there reading one of Doc Floss’ three magazines. “Sorry, Miss Grass, but I think you’re going to have a longer wait.” He blinked his eyes, reaching up to wipe some tears away only to get more of the powder all over his face.
“That’s fine-oh, are you okay, Mr. Maple?” she asked, setting down her magazine.
“Just fine. Got something in my eye.” He sniffed and trotted out, his mind still going over everything the doctor had told him. He waved to a few townsfolk as he passed them but he wasn’t in the mood to chitchat, focused on how he had lived his life. His quiet, steady, predictable life. He passed by The Little Blue Plate and then by Dotted Line’s office; he had a meeting with her at 9am but he was going to have to cancel as he couldn’t show up to a meeting with her covered in powder and blinking his eyes so rapidly he could barely focus. No, best to get back to the farm and clean up.
An hour later Mr. Maple was sitting on his bed, freshly washed and scrubbed, his eyes no longer burning, and his coat clean as a whistle. He knew he should get down to the orchard and check the maple trees, make sure they were doing okay… but he just didn’t have it in him. He looked around his bedroom, so plain and ordinary that it could have belonged to anyone, and suddenly felt an urge he’d never felt before. At first he thought it was hunger and went to get a snack (he had skipped breakfast, after all), but when that did nothing he wandered about his house, looking at the empty curio cabinet and barren shelves and bare walls and felt the hunger burning all the greater.
Many of the great ponies in history had stated at some point in their lives that there was a moment where inspiration just struck them. Go climb that mountain. Swim that lake. Paint that painting. Build that house. Write that novel. One moment they were happy and content with their lives and the next they wanted so much more. They HUNGERED for it… and Mr. Maple found he hungered now for something new. Something exciting. To have an adventure! It didn’t have to be a big one, nothing too fancy… he wanted a change of pace but he was still himself and nothing would change that… but an adventure all the same. To see new things, to taste different foods, to experience something beyond his routine! The thought of doing what he always did suddenly filled him with a terrible dread while the mere possibly of exploring the world beyond his home made his heart beat faster.
And as he thought about it Mr. Maple realized that there was nothing actually preventing him from going on a trip. It was the off season for maple syrup so there really wasn’t any real work that needed to be done. No repairs, no issues that needed his attention. He had plenty of bits that he could afford to take a trip. And there were no pressing appointments or obligations that would keep him home. He wasn’t even really looking for an excuse not to go!
“So… why not?” he asked himself quietly before rushing back up to his bedroom and pulling out a set of dust-covered saddle backs, the tags still attached to them. He grinned and began to throw in all the things he would need for a short trip: his toothbrush, a comb, a cap, his umbrella, his Bank of Equestria card, and a few other odds and ends. Settling the bags onto his back he looked at his reflection and grinned. “I’m going on vacation!” the stallion said with a grin, sounding nearly 20 years younger as he hurried down the stairs. He was only a few feet from the door when he realized that the milkpony would be by soon and it would be a waste if the mare left his bottles on the doorstep to spoil in the sun.
Thus Mr. Maple hurried into the kitchen and grabbed a piece of paper, scribbling a quick note explaining that they could halt his deliveries for a while. Tacking it onto his door he locked up and nodded to himself before, with a grin splitting his face, he rushed off to find the train station.
He was going on an adventure!
~*~*~*~*~
In town, unbeknownst to Mr. Maple, several ponies were gathered at The Little Blue Plate Diner. This in itself wasn’t that strange, as the diner was always busy during the breakfast rush. What was odd was that the patrons weren’t focusing on their meals but instead were listening to Miss Sweetgrass as she spoke to them, tugging on her mane as her nerves got the better of her.
“You didn’t see him, Greasey,” she told the diner’s shortorder cook while Honeyblossom refilled her coffee cup. “Mr. Maple was pale as a sheet when he stepped out of the exam room and he couldn’t stop crying. No, that’s not right… he was sobbing. And I heard Dr. Stitch crying too and he had to delay my appointment by nearly thirty minutes to get a hold of himself! His eyes were still red when he finally saw me. I asked him what was wrong but he wouldn’t tell me…”
“He never did come in for breakfast,” Hon said quietly to herself. “He always comes in on Tuesday for breakfast.” A few patrons murmured at that, knowing Mr. Maple’s routine well. One could find him every Tuesday enjoying his two eggs, two slices of toast, and glass of juice.
“He got bad news, I just know it,” Sweetgrass moaned in despair.
“We can’t go assuming anything,” Greasey said, pushing up his bandana. He didn’t mean that in a mean or rude way… he was as worried as the rest of them. Mr. Maple was always nice to him, making sure to peak his head in and thank him for a wonderful meal and tipping him and Honeyblossom beyond what the meal cost.
“Why else would he be crying though?” Sweetgrass asked.
Fresh Fruit, the town grocer, shuffled in his seat. “I was originally going to take the first appointment but Mr. Maple said he didn’t mind. I just thought he was being polite… but maybe he was in a hurry to see Stitch and find out the news.”
“What news?” Lily Petal asked, chewing on her lip.
“Something bad. Something with his health,” Sweetgrass whispered. “That’s why he was crying and so pale. It must be horrible to shake Stitch like that. He refused to even admit anything was wrong-“
“He’d never tell us. He’s a professional,” Honeyblossom stated as the bell over the door rang and Dotted Line ambled in, looking about the diner, searching. “What is it, sweetie?” the old waitress asked.
“Anypony seen Mr. Maple? He was supposed to meet with me half an hour ago but he never showed. I thought maybe he got delayed eating breakfast… it is Tuesday.”
“He’s not here,” Lily Petal stated. “What was your meeting about?”
“He needs to renew his life insurance-”
Sweetgrass let out a gasp of horror.
“Now now,” Greasey said, trying to argue the point but quickly losing the strength in his conviction that everything was okay. “We can’t jump to conclusions…”
“Something is wrong, something is very wrong with Mr. Maple and we need to find out! He’s… he’s a part of Quiet Meadows! We can’t just sit here while he’s suffering.”
Honeyblossom nodded. “I’m closing the diner for an hour. If anyone wants to join me in walking down to Mr. Maple’s farm they are welcome too-“
As one every patron in the diner stood up and made for the door. And as they walked ponies asked what was going on and one of them would pause to give the facts to them, quickly gaining another member of their party. By the time they reached the edge of town half of the populous had joined them.
It was a short trip to Mr. Maple’s farm but the hope that they would find him working the orchard or sitting on his porch were dashed when they found the land completely empty… save for the milkmare, Full Glass, who was staring at the door in frozen shock, eyes never leaving the note that remained tacked to the door:
‘Dear Miss Glass. No need for any more deliveries. Where I’m going I won’t need them. One day I’ll see you all again. –Mr. Maple.’
Sweetgrass and many of the other townponies began to cry as they realized that Mr. Maple was dying and had clearly decided to leave and spare them the burden of watching him pass on. They wept for their dear friend, thinking of how terrified and scared he must be to face such a fate all by himself.
~*~*~*~*~
“I’m going on a vacation!” Mr. Maple said once more to himself as he excitedly raced to the train station.
Author's Note
And thus begins our tale of our unlikely hero... and unknowing hero. He just wants to go on vacation... he has no idea what chaos he is about to bring, what heroics he will do, and what lives he will change.
He'll also NEVER know.
Mr. Maple Rides The Rails
Mr. Maple Rides The Rails
Doing his best not to look like the slack-jawed yokel that he felt he actually was, Mr. Maple trotted up the steps of Long Grass Corner’s train station before making a beeline for a bench to sit down on. He had much to think about and take in and it wouldn’t do any good to make himself a burden to those travelers that knew where they were going already. There were plenty of important ponies getting on and getting off the trains and he would never want to get in their way. He was just a simple stallion going on a vacation; he had all the time in the world and they didn’t.
The first thing he did, once he’d settled down on the bench, was ponywatch. He drank in all those running about, finding himself enjoying the chaotic nature of the train station. Families getting onto carriages to visit relatives. Businessponies heading to meetings and conferences. Workers making sure the train had plenty of coal and water and that luggage was being loaded up and taken off all in the right order. There were several ponies dressed in brown trench coats with fedoras pulled down to hide their eyes and tourists in floral print shirts with cameras around their necks and even what looked to be a cowmare from an old west novel stalking up and down the loading area. It was simply amazing to stare at them all and realized that for so many of them this was just a normal day!
Though, he had to admit, he did feel a bit underdressed. Everyone was in suits or their long coats and there was even one pony who was dressed all in black who he assumed was a mime. Mr. Maple was just wearing an old gray baseball cap and his saddle bags. Never really saw the need for much else. But he made a mental note to see about picking up maybe a nice new shirt during his travels. Nothing too fancy but it wouldn’t hurt to treat himself.
That decided on he began to look over the destination board to determine where he should actually go. There were many places he’d heard of that he’d like to visit but he thought that, perhaps, with this being his first leg on his first vacation it would be smart to make his first stop someplace simple. Nothing too glamorous or wild.
Having reached his decision he trotted up to a ticket window, which had no line at the moment, and asked the bored looking attendant, “Could I get a ticket to Rockville?”
“Yes sir,” the mare said, grabbing the binder that held those tickets. “That will be 7 bits. Your train leaves in 30 minutes and will arrive at Rockville at 11am.”
But Mr. Maple had begun to frown at that. “So soon? I thought Rockville was farther away than that.” Out of the corner of his eye he noticed the train heading to Neigh Jersey arrive and many of those gathered in the station, including the trenchcoat wearing ponies, hurrying to get on. “I was hoping to have a meal on the train… this is my first time taking a train and I’ve always wondered what having a meal while moving would be like.” He smiled, still bemused by what he was doing. “I’m taking my first vacation ever.”
The ticket mare looked at him and her bored look slowly changed to one of polite sympathy. “Well, if you don’t care about your destination then might I suggest the 10:45 to Fillydelphia? It leaves in a few minutes but you can catch it still. That will take 3 hours and they’ll serve lunch.” She paused, getting a slight faraway look in her eye. “It’s a lovely town. I grew up there…”
“Well, if you say it is lovely then who am I to say no?” He handed over the bits and thanked the ticket taker before hurrying to board.
He never saw the young mare look at a photo of her with her family, which was setting on the counter, before taking out a piece of paper to begin writing her two week notice, dreams of reuniting with her kin dancing through her head.
Mr. Maple got onto the train with a few minutes to spare and begin the task of looking for a seat. The car he was in was rather full but there were a few seats available but he didn’t want to take one from someone who might simply be late getting on. Nor did he want to intrude on a private conversation. As such he looked about before settling on a mare wearing a simple business jacket who had the air of someone used to such travel. Which was perfect for him.
“Excuse me, ma’am?” he asked, approached the rose-colored mare with a striking long mane. “Is this seat taken?”
“Not at all,” she said politely, alleviating some of his fears. He truly didn’t want to be a bother. He’d just settled in when the train lurched forward and despite his best attempts to not look like a fool who had no idea what was going on he couldn’t help but jump slightly at the screech of metal that briefly filled his ears. “Don’t take trains that often?” the mare beside him asked.
“Actually this is my first train ride,” he admitted. “I decided I wanted to take a vacation, my very first one mind you, and the first thing I decided to do is ride a train.”
“Well, you picked a great first thing to do!” the mare said with a grin. “Train rides are utterly wonderful. A bit noisy and scary at first, if you don’t know what is going on, but I can help you with that, Mr…”
“Maple. Mr. Maple.”
“Sturdy,” she said, introducing herself. “Now, that first sound you heard…”
For the next 2 hours Sturdy taught Mr. Maple not just what the sounds were that seemed to be popping up every couple of seconds but all sorts of other nifty bits of information about train travel. The best places to sit, when to pay for a sleeper car and when to just rough it in a seat, what to order for lunch, those sorts of things. He was utterly thankful for all her help and when the trolley came by selling lunches he insisted he pay for hers, which amused her something fierce though Mr. Maple wasn’t exactly for sure why. Maybe she just wasn’t used to a pony with manners.
They were 10 minutes out from the Fillydelphia station when Mr. Maple felt the need to use the bathroom. Excusing himself (and blushing as he asked Sturdy where said bathrooms were), he crossed over into another car and made his way to the stallions room, setting about getting his business taken care of. The bathroom was a small one, not helped by a strange brown bag someone had left tucked behind the toilet, but Mr. Maple made due. At one moment someone pounded on the door and asked him to hurry up and he apologized but he refused to leave without properly washing his hooves and finally the other passenger trotted away.
He had just finished drying everything when a scream from outside the door filled his ears. Mr. Maple burst out of the bathroom to find a mare struggling with the mime he’d seen on the platform, both of them half in the mares bathroom.
Mr. Maple wasn’t a violent pony. He didn’t believe in kicking up a big fuss and thrashing about. He’d seen stallions that thought they were tough because they slammed into crates and broke things when they were upset. To him that wasn’t strength that was weakness. One had to have control of themselves, to understand their emotions and not let them rule them. That’s why he’d never gotten into a hooffight in school or tussled with someone outside a bar. But that didn’t mean that Mr. Maple didn’t know how to fight… or was unwilling to. His mother and father had taught him that one shouldn’t fight… unless there was no other option or they had the best of reasons.
A mare being accosted by some strange stallion was reason enough for him.
He rushed forward and lashed out with his right hoof, striking the mime right in the jaw. The fellow went down hard, smacking his head against the sink and twitching slightly but otherwise showing no sign of getting up. Mr. Maple though pushed the mare behind him and began to back away from her attacker, only stopping when some porters rushed in to provide him back up.
“Are you alright, Miss Long?”
“Yes…” the mare said, catching her breath, “I do believe I am, thanks to this stallion.”
“What happened here?” the porter asked while another went to secure the mime.
Mr. Maple shook his head. “I was in the bathroom when I heard Miss… Long?” The mare nodded her head. “Miss Long let out a scream. I came out and saw that funny mime trying to grab her and it didn’t look like a performance to me so I socked him one good.” His jaw worked and he looked at the porters nervously. “I hope I haven’t gotten myself into any trouble.”
The two shared a look before slowly saying, “No… not at all, sir.”
“Good… then do you mind if I escort Miss Long someplace safe? I’m sure you have this under control now but I think it would do her good to not be around that mime anymore.”
The porter looked to Miss Long who nodded her head. “That won’t be a problem, sir. Could we get your name though before you leave?”
“Mr. Maple, “ he said politely before leading Miss Long back to his carriage and to Sturdy. “Excuse me,” he said, his seatmate looking up and starting slightly at seeing him with a stranger. “Would you mind terribly if Miss Long sat here? My stop is coming up and she just had a fright-“
“O-of course,” Sturdy said, Miss Long hurrying to sit next to the other mare. “Thank you, Mr. Maple. Truly.”
“Nah, thank you.” The train whistled and Mr. Maple pulled on his saddlebags and trotted towards the door, giving the two mares a happy wave before disembarking. “Now… where to first!” he said, putting the entire incident with the mime out of his head as he looked for an information desk.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Two hours later Inspector Clue-So of the Equestria National Police boarded the 2pm out of Fillydelphia when it finally arrived in Biscuit Junction and was hit with double glares from two particular mares.
“Hello Ms. Sturdy Tracks, Miss Long Tracks,” he said, greeting the two sisters who owned the entire Fast Tracks Train Company.
“Inspector,” Ms. Sturdy Tracks said coolly, her earlier smile gone as she scowled at the law enforcement pony. She pulled off the wig she was wearing and shook out her short mane. “Would you mind telling me just WHAT went wrong?” She gestured at her sister. “We asked you and your department to assist us in dealing with the Black Coat Bandit and instead of capturing that brute my sister was attacked by him and a stranger subdued him! All while none of your agents were here to help… apparently none of them were even on the train!”
Inspector Clue-So tugged on his tie, the dark blue going well with his red coat, and sighed. “Believe me, ladies, I am just as unhappy as you are. More so, in fact, as I have information you do not.”
“Well?” Miss Long asked, arching a single eyebrow. “Please share with us.”
Nodding he began to go over the plan they had set up weeks ago… and how it had all fallen apart. “As you know-“
“That is a horribly cliché way to begin a conversation,” Ms. Tracks stated.
“-the Black Coat Bandit has been hitting your trains and robbing them for the last 6 months. We had gotten a tip that he was going to be striking the 10:40 to Neigh Jersey and so I arranged for my team to board the train and apprehend him. But now we believe the tip came from the Black Coat Bandit himself, to get my agents on that train while he robbed the one you and your sister were on. He ducked into that train only to quickly exit at the last minute before hiding on the one to Fillydelphia. His plan was to retrieve his weapons from a bag he’d hidden in the stallions restroom and then rob the passengers as they neared the station, escaping into the crowd.”
“But thankfully Mr. Maple just happened to be there,” Miss Long Tracks stated.
“Yeah… just happened,” Clue-So stated slowly.
“What are you thinking, Inspector?” Ms. Tracks asked, her earlier anger fading away with the new information. The Black Coat Bandit had been a cunning thief and she wasn’t all that surprised he’d outsmarted the Equestrian Police. He’d outwitted her own security personnel, after all.
Rather than respond right away Inspector Clue-So nodded to several agents who quietly walked out of the train car and shut the doors. Only when the three ponies were alone did Clue-So pull out a small orb, roughly the size of a plum, and place it on the ground. “This is the latest in magical replay technology. It was originally developed by a professor from Celestia’s School For Gifted Unicorns to allow for playback of lectures but we’ve modified it so that we can use it to replay events at crime scenes.” Lighting up his horn and touching it to the orb an image appeared showing a small scale-model version of the Long Grass Train Station. “Now, that figure on the bench is Mr. Maple, correct?”
“It is,” Ms. Tracks confirmed, smiling as she looked at the stallion who had not just saved her sister but been so utterly polite to her. It was rare for her to meet a stallion who respected her opinion on rail travel, as so many ponies thought a mare had no business being in, well, that business.
“Notice how he doesn’t go to the ticket booth right away. He instead sits on the bench and observes the crowd. Including-“ He gestured at several ponies in trenchcoats, “my agents,” he waved his hoof at the Black Coat Bandit, “our target. He made each of them despite both my men and the Bandit being world class infiltrators and masters of disguise. He was able to identify them. Now…” his horn glowed and the recording fast forwarded to Mr. Maple at the ticket counter. “We interviewed the mare running the booth and she stated he changed his train last minute from Rockville to Fillydelphia. Look at his eyes.” The recording zoomed in and slowed down to show Mr. Maple glance at the agents getting on the train to Neigh Jersey just as the Bandit got off the same train. “He saw that my men had been fooled and took it upon himself to step in.
“Then there is the fact that he chose to sit next to you, Ms. Tracks. He saw through your own disguise and decided to protect you.” The recording stopped as Mr. Maple got on the train. “He could tell you were worried and decided to play up being a ‘scared tourist’ to put you at ease, to get you to focus on other things. Then, as you neared the station…”
Miss Long Track picked up the tale, eyes widening in shock as she looked at what had occurred in a new light. “He hid in the bathroom, knowing that the Bandit would need to get in there, hoping to ambush him. But when I came up he was forced to try and attack me in the mares room!”
“And he sprung into action and took out the Bandit with a single strike,” Clue-So stated.
Ms. Track though shook her head, mildly confused. “But who is this stallion, Inspector. Clearly not one of yours.”
“No, and that’s what concerns me… he is clearly a well trained agent, perhaps the best agent I’ve ever seen. And yet I have no idea who ‘Mr. Maple’ is. Or what agency might have sent him to interfere.” He straightened his shoulders and held himself up tall and proud. “But I am going to find out!”
