1
"Macintosh Apple, you stand accused of murder in the first degree, in front of multiple witnesses, in broad daylight, as well as the arson of the Dirty Trough saloon," the bulky, drably colored earth pony said as he paced back and forth before the judge. The fans hanging from the low ceiling of the small town courtroom did little to move the stale air around the bench. "How do you plead?"
Mac had never been one for dramatics, so he answered the question promptly.
"Not guilty."
A rush of murmurs swept through the courtroom, prompting the judge to bang his gavel loudly. The prosecuting attorney continued his questions. "Mr. Apple, do you deny that you fired one crossbow bolt from the weapon you were found to be concealing beneath your duster at Mr. Hide?"
"Ah do not," Mac said calmly, another stirring from the audience washing over the courtroom.
"Do you deny that during your confrontation with Mr. Hide, you may have started a fire that burned down the tavern?"
"Ah don't."
"Was it your intention to kill, Mr. Hide?"
Mac shook his head. "It wasn't originally. I gave him a choice. He decided for himself."
Another rush of murmurs, silenced almost immediately by the gavel once again. The prosecution remained unmoved. "Mr. Apple, are you implying Mr. Hide chose to have you put an arrow through his heart?"
"I told him he could either turn himself in, or, I'd have ta subdue him. He chose the latter route, and it led ta tragic and unforeseen events." Mac was as cool as ever, speaking plainly and slowly to the judge and jury while his defense lawyer sweated at the counsel table.
"Tell you what, Mr. Apple. Why don't you, in your own words, describe for the jury what lead up to your confrontation with the deceased."
"Gladly."
The dust of miles of roads clung to the hardened hooves of the red stallion as he entered town. His stetson pulled down low, his duster tied securely around his muscular chest, he made his way into the bustling frontier town of Tumblebrush. Two major trading routes out of the kingdom intersected in town, as such, it had quite a reputation as a stop for any and all vital supplies. Mac waded through the crowd, almost a head taller than all but the burliest of stallions as he carefully made his way toward a nearby bar. From outside, he could hear the shattering of beer bottles and the ruckus of a card game gone sour, as well as the ragtime piano merrily playing through it all.
Macintosh stepped onto the creaky wooden porch in time to nearly catch a young mare tumbling out of the doors. Her mane was a disheveled mess of chestnut and the red dress she wore had tears and stains sprinkled across it. She brought herself to her forelegs, though her hind legs still splayed awkwardly behind her. She looked up at Mac with eyes that shined amber, just like her little sister's.
"You alright, miss?" Macintosh asked, extending a hoof.
Before she could answer, another stallion stumbled out of the doors, his drunken eyes focused on the mare in front of him. "There you are, wench!" he slurred. "I dun told you I have good bits here, an' I expect your attention in return!" The drunken patron stepped closer, only to have Mac match his step.
"Ah believe the lady has a choice. And if the choice is no, then you best be on your way." He looked at Mac as though he's just slapped his mother.
"Look here asshole, that there's my whore, and what I do with her is my business! After I'm done with her, I'mma cut that tongue a yers out—" Before he could finish his threat, Mac cracked him in the jaw with a right hook, sending him and a few of his teeth clattering to the floor. He turned back to the mare and helped her to her hooves.
"My apologies for the violence, miss."
She cleared her throat and attempted to straighten her dress and mane before addressing him. "Not a problem at all, Mr... well, I do believe we were never introduced. Mister...?"
"Apple."
"I don't suppose you came all this way to save mares from uncouth drunks?"
"No ma'am, just a drink, and some information."
"C'mon in sugar, I'll treat ya right."
Mac pondered her words for a moment before agreeing. "I suppose a drink wouldn't kill me." He stepped over the unconscious stallion and into the smoky watering hole. He paused for a moment, taking in the characters. Gamblers, drunks, whoremongers, rustlers, thieves and ne're-do-wells of all stripes tipped their glasses to another day. It was a bar like any other to be found out in the Disputed Territories. A rough and tumble place many races called home, but none ruled. The law in those towns was either the sheriff, or the criminal with the heaviest weaponry. Sometimes, they were one in the same.
He followed his new friend to the bar, where a mustachioed stallion in a buttoned shirt rubbed a mug with a cloth. He seemed to be the cleanest pony in this bar, where Mac to place a bet on it. "Cinnamon, another client already? That colt must've had a hair-trigger!" the bartender joked happily.
"Not quite, Frosty. I found a more gentle soul to spend the evening with instead," she replied, casting a flirty smile back towards Macintosh. He'd have been lying if he'd claimed he wasn't a bit uncomfortable.
"What'll it be then, stranger?" Frosty asked. Snapping out of his scan of the room, Mac took a seat on a barstool he hoped was sturdy enough to support him. Almost immediately, Cinnamon plopped herself in his lap.
"Whisky," he wheezed, his new friend having forced the air from his lungs.
As Frosty turned to make the drink, Cinnamon threw a foreleg around his neck. "So, what kind of information where you after, Mr. Apple?" she asked innocently, twirling her mane with a bit of magic. She couldn't have been more than six years older than his youngest sister. The thought of a mare in her profession at such a young age made his stomach turn, but he hid his feelings well.
"I'm lookin' for somepony."
Her eyes lit up in response. "Really? A mare, maybe?"
"Yes. But right now, I'm lookin' for somepony who knows where she went."
Cinnamon's eyes fell a bit. "Oh. You think someone in this bar knows how to find this mare you're after?"
Frosty slid a small glass full of amber liquid towards Mac. He downed the shot without a second thought. "So I've been told."
"Well then, who is it—" before she could finish, a loud bang drew the attention of the patrons. The doors had swung open, revealing the stallion Mac had punched, and a much larger grey stallion in a dusty suit in front of him. He was a solidly built earth pony, his cutie mark obscured by the tails of his coat. In his mouth sat a shining gold tooth, as well as a scar on his right eyebrow.
"That's him, the red fella in th' hat!" The wounded stallion managed, a bit of blood still leaking from between his lips. Silence feel over the tavern. The griffon on the piano stopped playing, the glasses stopped clanking, and the cider stopped flowing. Mac recognized the larger stallion from the wanted poster he'd kept in his pocket.
"That's him," he whispered to Cinnamon as she let him stand up.
"You the one roughin' up my customers?" The larger stallion asked, stepping forward.
"The case could be made, but Ah ain't here to beat up drunks. I'm here for you, Cherry Swirl."
Mac watched as his face twisted in rage at the mention of that name.
"The name's Raw Hide!" he growled. I'd tell ya not to forget it, but you won't be around long enough! Boys!" On his command, five burly stallions stood from their tables brandishing a variety of weapons.
Mac quickly turned to Frosty. "Might Ah borrow that bottle of whisky?" He asked, tossing a small brown bag of bits on the bar as the thugs approached.
Frosty nodded, sliding the bottle towards him. "Miss?" Mac said, turning to Cinnamon. "May Ah borrow your hoofkerchief?"
She surrendered her cloth as he took a third of the whisky into his mouth while stuffing the rag halfway into the bottle. Hide's henchponies were nearly upon him when Mac hurled the bottle into the group. Connecting with a skull, the glass shattered, spewing the high proof alcohol across the tables and lanterns, igniting it. Everyone but Mac and his enemies fled the bar in a hurry as the flames began to lick the dry supporting columns holding the building upright.
One down, four to go Mac thought, his mouth still full of whisky. Behind his opponents, he could see Raw Hide getting ready to leave both him and his subordinates to their fates. The heat began to rise as the flames slowly covered the bar.
"You better swallow that whisky, 'cause it'll be the last thing you ever taste!" One of the thugs threatened. Mac took ahold of the stool he had been sitting on and bashed it over the lead ponies' head. With his final weapon splintered, he grabbed a flaming piece of timber.
"This is it, you're through!" Another henchpony shouted. With that, Mac held the flaming debris in front of his lips, and sprayed the alcohol from his mouth. A column of fire akin to a dragon's breath singed the manes and burned off the eyebrows of his attackers, sending them fleeing from the burning building.
Smiling to himself, Mac tossed the two unconscious stallions out of the windows and strode out of the saloon just as it collapsed. Nearly the entire town had gathered outside the bar as the fire brigade worked fruitlessly to save the building.
The mob turned its attention to Macintosh. "You see what this stranger has done?" Hide yelled, attempting to whip the crowd into a frenzy. "He has no respect for the rule of law!"
"You're one to talk about th' law, Cherry." Hide's face went red with rage once more. "You're wanted in Equestria by the Princesses themselves," Mac explained. A gasp swept through the gathered crowd.
"Nonsense! I'm nothing but an entrepreneur! I've committed no crimes!"
Mac nodded, reaching into his duster for a folded piece of parchment. "Then how do you explain this?" Mac unfolded the wanted poster with Hide's face on it. "Wanted for racketeering, murder, exploitation of ponies, and robbery." He looked up from the poster now laying between them. "Th' list continues, but you get the idea."
"A forgery! I don't know why you've come here, stranger, but know that slander does not come without a price!" Hide snapped. "I will have satisfaction! I demand we duel!"
Mac scoffed. "I ain't got time for none of that nonsense. I'm here to take you in. Now are you gonna walk, or will I have to drag ya?"
"I ain't goin' nowhere with you!"
Macintosh had done a lot to get to this point. He had endured more than he'd ever imagined necessary for the sake of two ponies he loved more than anything in this world. And yet, here was this pony stubbornly impeding his progress. It only served to fuel the anger hiding just beneath his calm exterior.
"Ah know what you do out here. These townsponies may not, but Ah do. You smuggle ponies, traffic 'em, and sell them to the highest bidder. Ordinarily, I'd just as soon see you strung up than in jail, but I ain't got that kind of time." Mac leveled his eyes at Hide. "Now you got one chance. Either you tell me what you did with the blue mare and her son, or you and I are gonna have problems."
Hide smiled. "Oh." He nodded slowly. "You're the guy I was warned about. He told me somepony would be comin' after them." Hide stepped forward. "And you know what he told me to do when you showed yourself?"
Mac's eyes narrowed, searching Hide for his next move. Without warning, Hide brushed his coat aside, revealing a single-shot black powder rifle.
As the glint of the noonday sun reflected off the barrel, Macintosh's eyes widened. Thinking quickly, he dropped his right shoulder, pointing his right forehoof toward Hide as the crack of gunpowder split the smoky air. In a moment, it was all over. A snap echoed in his ears as he watched his opponent take a few steps forward, before collapsing in the street, a crossbow bolt shining red with blood rising from his back.
Mac got to his hooves, staring at the pool of blood. Atop it and dead was the one pony who had the information he was looking for.
"Shit."
"You, in the hat and jacket!" Mac heard shouted from behind him. "Put your hooves where I can see them! You're under arrest!"
"Shit."
"And that's the truth, is it?" The prosecutor asked.
"It is," Mac replied.
"So, are we to believe that one of our townsponies has been right under our noses, living as a criminal this whole time? Do you think us that dense, Mr. Apple?"
"Ah mean no slight against th' townsponies, but Raw Hide was a criminal," Macintosh explained. "And I have it on the highest authority that he was due for arrest or punishment."
The judge looked toward Mac's defense lawyer. "Do you have this documentation, counsel?"
"We do, your honor." The judge used his magic to lift the paper to the bench. The wanted poster spelled out everything Mac had explained in plain Equestrian. After studying the poster for a moment, his eyes flicked up towards Macintosh.
"Mr. Apple, though your documentation does bear the royal enchantment, you are of course aware that in no way excuses your vigilanteism?"
"Ah am."
"Then you are of course also aware, that the sentence for your crimes, if convicted, is death by hanging?"
"Ah am."
The judge paused, puzzled by his demeanor. "Have you anything to say in your defense?"
"No." Macintosh began rolling up the sleeve on his right foreleg to his knee. "But there is somethin' you should see." He showed the back of his foreleg to the judge as another gasp swept through the courtroom.
"Case dismissed!"
2
"Mister Apple! Mister Apple, wait!" Mac stopped halfway down the steps of the courthouse as a free pony, waiting to see who had his name stuck in their mouths.
Cinnamon... he thought. He knew better than to help ponies anymore, yet he continued to do it. "What is it, Ms. Cinnamon?"
"Mr. Apple, please, a mare must be allowed to repay a debt owed. Let me put you up for the night, I have a room at the finest inn across the—" Mac held up his hoof, silencing her.
"Ma'am, Ah appreciate the thought, but I'll be gone by tomorrow. I have no need for a roof of any sort," he insisted, turning to leave.
"Wait!" she called again. Mac was too kind for his own good.
He turned. "Yes?"
"At least allow me to buy you something to eat," she pled. The look in her eyes tugged at his heart in a way only Apple Bloom's could. He cursed his soft spot for mares and gathered himself to refuse once more.
"As Ah've said before, you ain't gotta—" Before he could finish his sentence, his stomach decided to accept her generous offer. He sighed, his shoulders slumped. "Ah suppose one meal wouldn't hurt..."
"Wonderful!" Cinnamon sang. "Come with me, we simply must wash that dreadful soot from your coat!"
"I didn't say nothin' about a bath!" But by then he already found himself being nearly dragged through the street and toward one of the few inns in town. Before long, he found himself in a rather small room with frilly drapes and various other feminine touches on display.
"Home sweet home!" Cinnamon said sweetly as she trotted in, loosening her corset. Mac quickly shielded his eyes, though his modesty only brought on giggles. "Come now, it's only a corset!"
"My apologies ma'am, but it ain't right for a married stallion ta—" Mac stopped himself, wishing he could take back his last few words.
A sly smile crept across Cinnamon's lips. "A married stallion, eh? No reason to fret, I've had married clients before..." she added seductively as she sauntered over towards Mac, flicking her tail back and forth.
"Miss, I don't mean ta waste your time, but Ah'm not here for pleasures like what you're offerin'." Cinnamon held her bedroom stare for a few more seconds before breaking away.
"That's very noble of you, Mr. Apple," she admitted, taking a seat on her bed. "There aren't many stallions like you out there anymore."
Mac felt his blush break as he finally allowed himself to breathe. "Thank ya kindly."
"Not many stallions would have stood up for a call mare like you did." Though she had dropped her act, parts of her still called to Mac like they would to any stallion. Especially one that had been out on the road for nearly a month. "I know you're married, and I respect that," she whispered. Without even realizing it, Mac found himself seated beside her on the bed, her hoof tracing the buttons on his chest. "But you're a brave stallion. And brave stallions deserve rewards..." She licked her lips and drew her hoof down his chest to his navel, and even farther south. His instincts were screaming at him, but only his heart held them at bay. Every inch of him wanted to take out all his frustrations and anger and lust on this mare, just as she was practically begging him to.
As he thought about giving in, a brief flash of memory came into his head. His son, playing in the empty applecart as he pulled it back from town with his wife hovering overhead, making silly faces at him. As quickly as it had come, it was gone, but it had left Mac all the strength he needed to keep his mind on his mission.
"You're a beautiful mare. Cinnamon, but you and Ah just ain't meant to be," he whispered back to her, taking her hoof in both of his.
For a moment, she looked hurt. But she managed to swallow it as she stood up from her bed. "Loyal to the end. It's a rare quality in this world," she said, looking at herself in the mirror as she used her magic to take the bobby pins out of her mane.
"It is, but Ah learned from the best."
After Cinnamon had readied herself for dinner, she gave Macintosh use of the bathroom. "Take your time, dinner bell's not for another hour."
"Thank ya," he said, stepping inside the small, tiled room.
"Don't worry, I'll try not to peek," Cinnamon smiled, closing the door behind him. Mac returned a grin as he heard the handle click in place. He turned to the mirror, dimly lit by the candles beside it. His mane had grown a bit shaggy since he began his journey. His tail was no longer the short, cropped affair it had been. His chin fur had grown out considerably as well. He set his sister's dusty stetson on the counter, and removed his duster. Along his chest, there were scratches and cuts, as well as a sizable scar across his shoulder, coming around it and ending in the middle of his chest. Each one told a story, each one marked a hardship he endured with a single goal in mind. He hardly recognized himself in the mirror. Something about his eyes had grown a bit more tired every time he stopped to look at his reflection. He folded his duster and set it on the counter next to his hat. Cinnamon had already drawn him a bath. Ordinarily, baths weren't his style, but beggars can't be choosers, as they say.
Before setting hoof in the warm water, he reached into his folded coat and pulled out a locket.
Illegitimi non carborundum he read to himself as he opened it. Inside were a picture of a handsome pegasus stallion and his wife, and opposite them were Rainbow Dash, himself, and their son, Zap. Nothing brought him more joy and relief than the item resting in his hooves. It was both his motivation and his willpower, his strength and his courage.
Mac set it on top of his coat before turning back to the bath. Slowly, he allowed himself to sink into the tub. It was honestly the first time he'd let himself relax in as far back as he could recall. As he lay there, time seemed to melt away like the dirt from his coat. Soon, he was stirred from his trance by a knock at the door.
"Mr. Apple? It's nearly supper time! Everything alright in there?"
"Er... yes, Everythin's fine," he mumbled, half asleep.
"Need any extra hooves?" she asked from beyond the door hopefully. If nothing else, he admired her persistence.
"No, thank ya." Mac quickly dried himself off and got dressed. While he was in the bathroom, Cinnamon had changed into an entirely different outfit, much more formal than before.
"Well, I'm sure the rest of the boarders will be ever so jealous of the handsome young stallion on my arm for dinner this evening."
Mac smiled cautiously. "Ah suppose it's the least I could do." He lead her out of the room and down a long hallway full of dusty portraits. At the bottom of the stairs waited the finest meal Macintosh had seen in ages. Punching that drunk in the mouth was one of his better decisions, it seemed.
After dinner, the plates had been cleared, and Mac sat beside Cinnamon as he contemplated the chilly night he'd spend beneath the stars.
"Mr. Apple, I simply cannot allow you to stay in the elements with such a chill in the air."
Mac knew what she was getting at, though the air of seduction in her voice had long since evaporated. Now she spoke with a more motherly tone. Truth of the matter was, he was certainly having trouble saying no to a bed and blankets.
"Alright Miss Cinnamon, I'll stay one night."
Her eyes lit up like the lanterns themselves. "Lovely! Come now Mr. Apple, it is well past this young mare's bedtime."
She hurried up the stairs and beckoned him to follow. Before long, they found themselves back in Cinnamon's room. Mac found her couch and began to settle in.
"And just what do you think you're doing over there?"
Mac blushed, straightening up before addressing her. "C'mon now miss, it wouldn't be decent for me ta—"
"Hush now," she insisted. "I give you my word that my loins will remain chaste. Even call mare's have their honor, Mr Apple."
Mac hesitated for a moment, though the memory of how soft her mattress had been was making it difficult to refuse.
"Okay, But we keep a pillow between us. Sound fair?"
Cinnamon smiled. "But of course."
Mac climbed beneath the sheets after disrobing and felt the bed shift as Cinnamon followed suit. Strangely enough, he was not as tired as he thought he'd be.
"Tired, Mr. Apple?" Apparently, neither was she.
"Not as much as Ah'd hoped."
A brief silence covered the room like the blankets they hid beneath.
"I know, we can play a game I used to play with my sisters when we couldn't sleep!" A lump of concern rose in Mac's throat. "We called it; 'questions'. We simply take turns asking each other questions until the other falls asleep!"
It sounded like a pretty dull game to him, but he was nothing if not courteous to his host.
"Alright then, who goes first?" he asked.
"The guest. By all means, Mr Apple."
Mac thought for a moment.
"What's your favorite color?" he asked.
"Blue," she replied. "My turn!" she said with filly-like excitement.
"Okay, go ahead."
Almost instantly, she asked him one of the hardest questions possible.
"What happened to the mare you're looking for?"
Seconds ticked by slowly as Mac tried to pick the best way to answer. For a moment, the silence soaked into their very souls.
"Someone took her. I aim to get her back."
