Shame

Cacti. Everywhere Ruiz looked, there were cacti. Travelers from Equestria often called them a nuisance, nothing more than a spiky, parasitic waste that sucked up all of the water the barrens had to offer, often citing that there was no water there to begin with. No crops would grow here because the cacti were hogging all of the water.

This was simply untrue. The cacti did not need very much water, and thus didn't take very much water. It was surprisingly easy to drown a cactus. The reason their crops were failing was due to the heat. Cacti, in their bulbous shapes, were much better at regulating their temperature than the paper-thin leaves that nourished other plants. To survive this heat, the plants needed to be hardy.

To those that had spent their lives here, as Ruiz had, cacti in abundance had a completely different meaning. If there were plenty of cacti on the surface, that meant that there was water not very far below. In all likelihood, someone had noticed this before, and dug a well here. That would lead to a home being built, then more, and a settlement would grow around it, and a settlement meant a high likelihood of food.

Coming up over the hill, he was not disappointed. The road cutting through the cacti was leading him toward a small community, with several buildings in the center even reaching two stories tall. He looked over the town as he approached on wobbly hooves. It seemed to be an artisanal community, or rather, it seemed to have been one previously. A short wooden fence ran around the outside of the town, likely the old city limits, as a few buildings were set up outside the border. The fence was clearly old, as evidenced by several sections being patched with barbed wire stretching between the posts.

What gave it away as an artisanal settlement was the sign. Any settlement that had started as a work camp placed a small, poorly painted sign with the name, as well as the population at the last census. This one was meant to last. Over the gate stood a carved archway with the words "Welcome, one and all, to beautiful Sweetwater!" The population had been painted on a plank with the intent to paint over it yearly, but it was not hanging from its hooks. Rather, somepony had haphazardly nailed it over the name Sweetwater, in a lazy enough fashion that one of the nails had already fallen out, leaving the plank to swing from the sign, displaying both names. Additionally, somepony had hastily painted over the population count with the new name for the town, Oasis.

As he crossed the threshold into town, he didn't see anypony for awhile. He stopped to wonder if perhaps the place was a ghost town, but a ruckus from a barn nearby pushed that thought aside. He also spotted a gryphon with jet-black feathers drinking from a glass bottle whose neck poked out of a brown paper bag. Lastly, he saw a stallion hitch himself up and walk away with an empty cart. Clearly, it hadn't been completely abandoned yet.

On reaching the center of town, Ruiz spotted something he hadn't been expecting. With names like Sweetwater and Oasis, he had been expecting the well to be a fantastic centerpiece. While there was certainly enough space, and several matted metal accoutrements, the actual well was blocked off from the public, a shack haphazardly built on top of it with two gryphon guards in front of the only door. Like the other gryphon, these two were black, but it was clearly painted on, as it was running in certain spots, betraying their whites and purples underneath. The door they were guarding was adorned with a heavy metal lock, and a sign told passersby that there was no entry by order of the sheriff, and that violators would be shot. The well water was not an option for Ruiz to hydrate himself. He didn't want to go see the sheriff and file paperwork just for a drink. What few coins he had would probably afford him something at the inn and saloon.

The door swung shut behind him as he walked in. A raucous crowd had already gathered, mostly comprised of black-coloured gryphons, whether that was their natural colour or not. They were too busy laughing and yelling, drinking and smoking to pay him any mind. The attention he did receive was quickly forgotten, except by the innkeeper, who was tending the bar. He was a brown, balding stallion with a beard and a black eye, and he was drying a glass when Ruiz walked in. When Ruiz sat down at the bar, he was almost certain that his hooves would have given out if he had stayed standing much longer. He really needed a good night's sleep, but a short sit would have to do for now.

"All payments in advance," grumbled the innkeeper, pointing to a sign on the back wall that said much the same. "Don't cause any trouble, either. I don't want to have to throw you out, ya hear?"

Ruiz pushed his sombrero back over his head and onto his back, covering up the several days' worth of stickers that the wind had secured to his poncho. He rubbed his hooves against his face to clear away the dust from his black coat. He might have blended in with the gryphons, were he not obviously a goat. Hell, his right horn was little more than a broken-off stump, so he might have even been able to say he was a unicorn, as he hadn't seen any in town. "I hear you, Señor," he nodded, his voice scratchy and dry. "I'm not here to cause trouble."

"Alright then," nodded the innkeeper, setting the glass down to work on another. "What do you want?"

"How much for a hot meal?"

"Four bits."

Ruiz reached down into his purse and pulled out his coins. Four bits was a paltry sum, but he'd missed having a hole cut in his pouch that needed fixing. His cash had fallen out of his purse, possibly days ago, and had been lost to whoever had cut the hole. He only had two bits left. "I'm sorry for troubling you," he sighed, standing up and turning around.

"Hold it," called the innkeeper. "If all you have right now are those two, I can give ya a can of peaches for each," he offered. "Not a whole meal, but it's better than nothing."

With a tired nod, Ruiz placed his coins on the countertop and returned to his seat. "Gracias, amigo."