The Barrel Behind the Barn
Applejack trudged through the snowy barnyard in the dark hours before dawn, just as she had every morning, every winter. She was wearing her boots, and her scarf was snug around her neck, but the biting chill in the air turned her cheeks bright red as she reached her destination behind the barn. She was looking forward to Winter Wrap-Up next week, but today she just had to get through today. That was what today was about, being the best pony she could be, every day, starting today.
Today was her birthday.
The crowbar was cold in her mouth as she used it to pry open the top of the barrel. The smell hit her hard, and she coughed a little before staring down into the darkness. There was no ice, there hadn't been for a week and a half now. It was done.
***
Macintosh didn't like the winter. After Pa came in from feeding the animals and checking the barrels, there wasn't much farm work to do. That meant he started getting drunk early, and Macintosh hated when Pa got drunk. Sure, a lot of the time he was fun, always ready to play a game with Mac, or tell jokes, or sing songs. But sometimes he got sad, or yelled at Mac for just being there. And either way, Ma was going to get mad.
Today, winter was almost over. Pa said he'd bottle the barrels tomorrow, some to sell and plenty for himself too. Granny Smith scowled at that, but she went on cooking breakfast. Ma was just too big to cook these days, Granny said Mac's little brother or sister was going to come any day now.
Mac watched from the table as Pa poured something extra in his coffee.
Just then, Granny set a plate of breakfast on the table in front of the colt, and he turned his attention to eating and leaving the house as quickly as possible.
As soon as he finished his food, Mac was out the door. He headed to the orchard alone, he never liked playing with other colts much. But there in the field of bare, snow covered trees, he'd been working for the past few days on building an army of snow ponies. It was only a week until Winter Wrap-Up, so he had to finish before they were all cleared out.
The army so far was fourteen carefully crafted ponies, larger than Mac himself. He wondered if he could get a cutie mark in making snowponies, but decided that would be silly; he wouldn't even be able to do it most of the year.
Cutie mark or no, he kept up his solitary work until lunch, adding two more ponies to the ranks. Then he took a break to launch some snowballs at his creations, but they were good soldiers and stood firm in the face of the barrage.
With his hooves and muzzle well frozen, he went back to the house for lunch. He carefully took off his snowy boots and scarf at the door and looked around for Granny, but she was nowhere to be seen. He heard hoofsteps upstairs, though, so he called up.
“Granny?”
“Macintosh? Is that you?” Granny's voice called back.
“Yup!”
Granny came downstairs quickly. “The baby's comin', Mac. Go find your pa and tell 'em to run for a doctor. There's a good boy.”
Mac's eyes went wide, all thoughts of lunch forgotten as he raced out of the house, across the snowy yard. He headed straight for the barn, and burst through the doors. There on a hay pile was Pa, fast asleep.
“Pa, get up.” Mac said, giving him a shove with his hoof. Pa just snored loudly.
“Wake up, the baby's comin' and Ma needs a doctor!” Mac said, shaking the stallion. Pa gave a cry, and Mac sighed with relief, until Pa rolled over and resumed snoring.
Mac just stared at him for a moment. Then he narrowed his eyes and shook his head at the sorry excuse for a pony in front of him, dead drunk on applejack. Mac turned and walked out of the barn, then galloped at full speed towards town.
He wasn't wearing a scarf or boots, and the cold chilled him to his bones as he ran down the winding road. With every panting breath the wind invaded his lungs, and as he crossed the bridge over the frozen river, he thought he might pass out. But he wouldn't allow it. Granny was counting on him. Ma was counting on him. Pa was-.
Mac's eyes watered as the drove himself on, through the streets full of ponies. He didn't care how cold he was, he would be as tough as the snowponies he made in the orchard. If Ma and Granny needed a pony they could depend on, Mac would be that pony. He had to.
He ran through the doors of the hospital, and stopped right in front of the nurse's desk, gasping in the warm air. The nurse's eyes opened wide, and she hurried to his side.
“What's wrong, Macintosh? Are you okay?”
“Ma. . . the foal. . .” Mac managed to get out. His lungs were burning, and his legs ached, and he was crying.
The nurse nodded, and ran to get the doctor. A few minutes later the doctor hurried out, wrapped in a coat and scarf. He started towards the door, and Mac followed.
“Where do you think you're going?” the nurse called to Mac.
“I gotta get home, Ma and Granny might need me!”
“But you need to rest! And you don't have boots, or a scarf, or-”
Mac didn't hear the rest. He was out the door, following the doctor back to Sweet Apple Acres.
By the time he got back to the farm, Mac was trailing far behind the doctor. He heard the door to the farmhouse slam ahead of him, and collapsed in the snow. His whole body felt hot, and his legs just wouldn't work anymore, and he thought he might die. But then there would be nopony to take care of Ma and Granny and the new baby.
But Mac couldn't move. He just started to cry, laying in the dirty snow of the farm yard.
He heard the crunch of hooves approaching in the snow, and turned to see Pa emerging blearily from the barn. Mac wished he could get up to kick him. Instead, Mac just lay there as Pa came closer.
“Macintosh, you okay?”
“Fine.” Mac said, sniffing and biting his chapped lip to keep from crying in front of Pa.
“You don't look too fine. Let's get ya' warm.”
His father nudged him over his back, and carried him into the barn, laying him gently in the hay. He grabbed a blanket and wrapped it around him, which Mac allowed part because he was too tired to fight it, and part because he was freezing.
He laid there for a while, pulling together the strength to get up, to go inside and find Granny and make sure Ma was okay. Finally, with way too much effort, he pushed the blanket off of himself.
Pa saw him moving, and sat down next to him. “Now, you wanna tell me what happened?”
Mac glared at his father. “Hadta run for the doctor. Ma's havin' the foal.”
“She is?” he asked, surprised. “Why didn't ya' get me?”
“I tried. You were passed out.”
The stallion didn't say anything. He looked shocked.
Mac held his glare. “I ran and got the doctor. He's in the house now. Ma coulda died, and you'd be layin' there drunk.”
Pa's ears drooped, and he hung his head. The two ponies stood there for several long minutes, before Pa whispered, “You're right.”
Mac said nothing.
Pa nodded, “You're right, Mac. Come 'ere.”
The stallion started quickly out of the barn, Mac following as best he could. His whole body still hurt, but he was curious about what Pa was going to show him. Pa lead him around to the back of the barn, where the rows of barrels of applejack stood. Mac glared at the barrels, then at Pa.
But Pa just looked Mac in the eye. “What's in them barrels is the wrong I done to you and your ma. It's too easy to get caught up in 'em, and not be all there for what's important. I'm sorry, Mac. I'm sorry for today, and for all the days I ain't been there. But words are nothin', if ya' don't act on 'em.”
With that, Pa walked up to the first barrel, turned, and gave it a buck. The barrel splintered, and the applejack poured onto the ground, turning to strong smelling mud. Mac backed up to avoid the mess, but Pa just stepped through it and gave the next barrel a buck.
Every barrel got the same, smashed to pieces, its contents soaking the freezing ground. When he finished, Pa looked over to Mac, and swallowed hard. “Today's the start, Mac. I'm gonna be the pony you and the foal deserve for a father. No more liquor for me, you got my word, and ya' saw what I did.”
Mac smiled.
Pa walked over to him, and gave him a nuzzle. “Come on, let's go see how that baby is doin'.”
Inside the farmhouse, they found Granny in the kitchen. She eyed Pa suspiciously as they entered, and set down the frying pan in her mouth. “You don't think you're goin' up to see your daughter, smellin' like a bar, do ya'?”
“Pa smashed the barrels, Granny. Every one.” Mac said happily. Granny kept her stare on Pa, and Pa looked down and blushed.
“The boy's tellin' the truth. I got rid of every drop. I'm done, Granny. And. . . I'm sorry.”
For the first time Mac could remember, Granny smiled at Pa. “Well, in that case, y'all can come on up and meet the happiest little filly I ever seen, and I've seen some happy little foals in my time.”
Mac and Pa washed up, and went upstairs. The doctor had left already, and Mac saw Ma laying in bed, and the little baby in her forelegs. The foal was orange, with a halo of golden curls, and a smile on her face while she looked around at everything in the room. Mac just watched her, tears coming to his eyes.
“Somethin' wrong, sugarcube?” Ma asked softly.
“Pa smashed the barrels, and you're safe, and I got a little sister. This is the best day.” Mac said, and he walked over to Ma and nuzzled the foal, then buried his face in the quilt to dry his tears.
“You really smashed 'em?” Ma said to Pa as he came into the doorway.
“Eeyup. And I'm dumpin' the bottles, too.”
“I'm proud of ya'.”
“You shouldn't be. It's just what I shoulda done ages ago. But I'll be a pony you can be proud of from now on.” Pa said, coming over and nuzzling her cheek.
Ma smiled and offered him the baby, and he carefully took the foal in his leg. “From here on out, this little foal is the only Applejack I'm ever gonna need. I promise all three of ya', I'll be the best pony I can be, every day.”
Pa was good to his word. From that day on, he was never drunk again, and he was the most dependable pony on Sweet Apple Acres, and in all of Ponyville, until the day he died.
***
Every fall, Pa would take some cider and make one barrel of applejack. Whenever they wanted to, Mac and Applejack could go with him on those frosty mornings to break the ice and pull the chunks of water out of the liquor as it got stronger day by day. As they got bigger, and made their own mistakes, they understood more about why Pa still made the barrel. It was a reminder, a ritual, and Applejack and Big Macintosh learned to make that barrel their own flaws and weaknesses.
After Pa died, Applejack set the barrel herself every winter. Applejack only ever knew Pa as a good, upstanding pony. He told her the story of her name, and he taught her to get up on the darkest, coldest mornings of the year and face the demons in the barrel. She had never touched a drop in her life, but she always thought she could see her own demons there in the dark. And every day she let them get stronger, all winter, until just before spring.
And with the sun rising over Sweet Apple Acres, on the morning of her birthday, Mac joined her in the farm yard. She smiled at him, and handed him her hat. Mac took it and smiled back. There were tears in their eyes, for Pa and for Ma, and for all the times everypony spent too wrapped up in their wrongs, whatever they were.
Applejack turned, and bucked the barrel so hard that it splintered, golden liquid sloshing onto the snowy ground, filling the farm yard with the scent of apples and alcohol. And just like that she was the only Applejack on Sweet Apple Acres, and everypony could start today as the best pony they could be.
Mac smiled and nuzzled her as he set her hat back on her head. Applejack smiled back, and they started on their chores.
Author's Note
If you don't know what applejack is, here's a link to the wiki article..
I'm not against alcohol. Enjoy it responsibly or irresponsibly. I just wanted a story about how Applejack got her name, and this came out. I also skipped my proofreaders on this one, so whatever mistakes there are are totally my fault.
