Appleoosa

The thunder of the train leaving back to Ponyville shook the ground beneath my hooves. When I was only a filly, these things used to be pulled down the tracks by teams of big, strong colts, but now they used larger coal powered ones, like the old Canterlot engine.

I checked the straps to my saddle bags, making sure they were tight, but loose enough so I could easily reach my holster. Times were tough. With the buffalo and the griffins making war to the south, everypony was on edge. Herds of Buffalo trampled wild through the deserts without the leadership of Thunderhoof, and bandits had taken to camping in the cliffs.

I was there for the mines.

Somepony had found silver here, and who better to build a mine than me?

I would get started tomorrow, though. I was really the only one that knew how to build something so complicated, and I promised my sister that I'd visit cousin Braeburn.

I looked down the wide streets of Appleoosa, careful to stay in the shade. A mighty large portion of the apple orchards had been run down by wild tribes, and bandits had set up on the ridge where the tracks split to Dodge Junction.

There were roads between here and Dodge, but they were slow, and there was no shortage of buffalo in the plains.

“Hey Brae,” I said, walking into the sheriff’s office at the end of the road.

His old stetson looked worse for the wear, and a slightly tarnished sheriff's badge brightened his faded brown vest.

He tipped his hat to me. Seeing my gun, his mouth lowered into a frown. Stress had not aged him well; he hated the violence of his position.

“Ah wish Ah didn't have ‘ta carry this,” I told him, looking down.

He sighed.

“Ah know, Ah know,” He said, offering a sad smile. “Truth is, Ah'd rather not have ma favorite cousin go unprotected.”

He looked out the small window behind him, “Truth is, Ah wish there wasn't a need for any o' this. Time was things, were safer. Even out here. . . .”

There was a long silence. I could remember the way things used to be from when I was a little filly. The biggest trouble was a crashed apple wagon.

He turned back, filling the silence, “So, how do'ya plan on getting to that silver?”

I smiled, proud of my plan and eager to explain. Construction is my specialty, reflected by my cutie mark.

* * * * * *

I stood over the rugged, weathered hill, the wind blowing through my mane. It was moments like this that I wished I had the sense to get a hat like my older sister's. Applejack always took good care of her hat, despite the strange hole in the front of the brim.

“Righ' about ova' here,” A short, brawny stallion motioned me over, “I found it in this little nook.”

He pointed with one hoof down into the small cave. It was about two ponies deep, with a small puddle of water at the bottom. I wondered how in the hay he had gotten down there, but it was important not to waste time.

I motioned with a shake of my head towards the hole. A green maned buck gripped a rope ladder in his teeth, throwing it into the hole, allowing a pale blue maned unicorn to climb down.

Silver hoof. I had never actually seen him wear silver horseshoes, but he had earned the nickname for finding silver. It was said where ever he set hoof, silver would follow.

I didn't know whether it was skill or luck, but either were good enough for me.

His horned glowed a soft white, casting strange reflections off the water. He looked back and forth, his eyes closed. His eyes snapped open.

He looked up nodding to me. He didn't say how much he had found, but judging by his expression, he had found the mother lode.

I turned back to the pony that had found this cave.

“Ah'll give ya' 600 bits for the hill.”

* * * * * *

I sat at the bar of the local salon. The lamps were plenty bright, but the finely carved wood of the stools and the tables was polished, only bearing a few scratches from their years of use.

There were only one or two other ponies in the bar, but this place was cleaner than the one down the road, the Shattered Mare. A lot friendlier too.

I sipped my cider. Strong and bitter, but I had long gotten used to the bite, and it was a good age.

A loud smack sounded from across the way.

I finished off my sip and stood from the stool, tossing a few bits onto the bar. I didn't have too many bits to spare, but I needed a drink. Might as well celebrate now, I thought; the next few months were going to be a tough mix of striking bargains and sliding in on late loans.

I stepped outside and shook my mane. The wind here was getting bothersome.

Blam, a gunshot rang out from the bar across the street.

I shuffled my shoulder, sliding the handle of the revolver into my mouth.

A dark brown mare stumbled out of the bar, her military jacket hanging loose and unbuttoned on her shoulders.

Babs looked up, a mischievous smile across her features.

“Oh, Hey cousin!” She slurred. She was obviously drunk, and I had my doubts about the smoking shotgun strapped to her saddle.

She shuffled over to me, though I tried turn away. Her breath smelled like cheap whiskey.

“When did you get to town?” She asked, her eyes almost crossed in puzzlement. “I thought you had some sorta’ contract in Manehattan?”

“Yeah,” I said, looking down, “Ah got a few bites, but ponies didn't want good. They wanted cheap. Ah couldn't do that.”

“I see,” She said, shaking her head. “Shame nopony ever comes here for good things anymore. I mean. . .”

“Actually . . . Wait. What just went on in there?”

Babs laughed. I held my breath; the smell was overpowering.

“Some buck thought he was hot stuff, thought he'd try for a shot at a warmare,” She grinned, wiping blood from her cheek. “I just didn't much care for his attitude.”

“So ya' shot him?”

“No, no. He got too close, so I gave him a good buck to the teeth. He tried to pull his gun on me, but Oakhoof was faster.”

She looked back over her shoulder at the bar.

“Umm. I don't mean to impose, but do you have a place I could stay? I seem to have lost my lodgings for the night, and it'd be a shame to be drunk and in the streets.”

* * * * * *

The next couple of days dragged on. Most of the time I spent in between ordering workers and materials for the mine was catching up with cousin Babs. Thankfully, she wasn't drunk every night. During the rebellion, she was one of the most “distinguished” cavalry captains.

All that meant to Babs was an old uniform and a lot of bad memories. When offered a higher rank, she walked, taking only her war saddle and her shotgun. I never envied her, even though she had gotten her cutie mark before me. Two rifles.

It ate her up that her destiny was to fight, but even more that for all she did; for all those that she had killed, or had died in her command. I guess it ate me up too, knowing all she had been through.

I know technically we're cousins, but she was always more like a sister to me.

The mine as well on its way, and the frame for the entrance as already in the works. A few miners had even showed up, eager for the work. Unfortunately, we were running low on bits. Babs had thrown in some of her own, a surprising amount for as down as she looked, but we were running close to empty, and we still needed something to start the mine.

Dynamite. Not too much, but we needed to get the entrance blasted out.

I was sitting in the sheriff’s office talking to Brae.

“So why, exactly do ya' wear a rock around your neck?”

He laughed, moving it around his vest. It was nothing more than a smooth pebble with a string going through it.

“It's hard to explain,” He said, looking out the window, “It's something Chief Thunderhooves taught me before all this chaos started.”

“Ya'll have to explain it ta' me. It just looks like a rock.”

“That'll have to wait,” He said, smiling, “Ah hear an old friend o' yours left ya' a letter at the post office. Ah knew ya'd be down here before checkin' in, so Ah picked it up for ya.”

He pulled a letter out of his vest and placed it on his desk.

Most people would be wary of somepony digging through their mail, but in the Apple family, you trust your family. I opened it, curious.

Hey Applebloom,

I heard you found yourself a silver mine in Appleoosa. I'm not sure whether to be glad you're out here or disappointed, though. The Dodge line closed out a month back, so the trail is the only way through, but it wouldn't be too hard to come back out and visit you guys. After all, Babs was already out there. If Sweetie Belle wasn't up in back in Ponyville we could get all the Crusaders back together.

I've been good out here, but business is slow with the tracks closed. You can only repair so many trains when there're no tracks. Too bad, really. I like it out here, but things are turning sour, and fast. Old Gilda flew back south and there are bad stories about what's going on at the Cherry plant.

Actually, truth is me and a friend of mine, Dave, are going to be on our way over there. We should arrive a couple weeks from now. He's a good buck, a mechanic from the factory. Not quite as awesome at engineering as me, of course, but he is pretty good.

Anyway, if you're still out when I get by there, we should catch up, maybe get some drinks. Whatever Babs says, it's probably better not to go into the Shattered Mare. I'm getting the hay out of Dodge.

Your Friend,
Scootiloo

Of course, there were a few spelling mistakes, but I was too overjoyed to hear it. Not the dangerous part, of course, but it had been too long since I last got to hang out with my old friend.

* * * * * *

The next few weeks practically flew by. Of course Babs and I were were nearly flat broke by then, but that wasn't really a problem. The bartender at the Saloon was an old friend of Brae's, and Babs always seemed to have a few extra bits around after the nightly craps game.

Needless to say, more than a couple nights ended in a shot glass, and more than a few days started after ten with a pounding headache.

The two of us stood up on ridge. The main building was finished and the entrance was already shored up. The frames running the length of the shaft were sturdy, but somepony, or somebody, had knocked out one or two of the beams.

“Do you know anypony who would do this?” I asked Babs. I knew she got in her scuffles. I was usually pretty good at talking her down, but the last few days had kind of been a blur.

She shook her head, “No. Not that I know of.”

“Well,” She hesitated.

“What?”

“Well, I may have an idea of who did this, but if I'm right, it can't be good.”

Before explaining she started down the hill towards the

sheriff’s office.

“Brae, we got a problem,” Babs said, pushing herself through the swinging door of the sheriff's building.

He looked up from his desk, his expression dour.

“Ah swear, one o' these days, Ah'm just gonna' retire to what's left o' mah orchards.”

“It looks like the Rockhoof tribe is back.”

Braeburn looked out the window shaking his head. At this point I was in the dark.

“Rockhoof?”

“Yeah,” He answered, “Ah thought they were out of these parts. A long while ago. Thought they was done. . . .”

“'Bout three years ago,” Babs explained, “This Buffalo tribe started making trouble 'round here. At first, they were nothing. I even that they was a good thing, after divin' off more than a few bandits. Things got ugly, though. They got their hooves on some real iron and got it in their heads that all this land was theirs.

A whole horde of 'em stormed in here. A near stampede; all of 'em armed. Thankfully they wasn't exactly sneaky. Could see 'em from a mile away.”

Brae shook his head, cringing.

“It was a massacre,” He said, “Almost a hundred of them, and not one o' them could shoot worth a hay. Most of them was shot down before they got halfway down from that hill ya' got ya' mine on now. Only about twenty survived.”

“Twenty-three,” Babs corrected, her eyes hard, “And they all ran. It was me that called for us to stop shooting. I didn't want anyone else dead.”

I was shocked. I had heard stories of Buffalo tribes attacking Dodge, and a few of the newer settlements here in the south, but this was more than I had expected.

“If it wasn't for Babs, the whole town mighta' been trampled.”

The silence was almost as thick as the late noon heat. I could tell that these were not good memories, but we needed to act fast before things got out of hoof. The buffalo were sloppy last time, I doubted they would make the same mistake twice.

I broke the silence, “Ah recon we should probably get ready then?”

* * * * * *

Short after, Brae had gone to the judge to request a bounty of sorts; an offering to anypony willing to lend a gun to the town’s aid. At first, it seemed there were no responses, but by the end of three days there were plenty. I don't know how much it cost the court to keep the near thirty new ponies in town, but they did wonders for town business. No shortage of brawls at the Shattered Mare either.

There were no shoot outs though. While nopony but Babs Brae and I really knew why the town needed all these hired guns, but they were smart enough not to mess with anypony paid by the sheriff.

That and our new deputy was no pony to mess with. Babs was a crack shot with her shotgun. Though I'm sure she missed her daily craps games.

It did attract at least one strange visitor, though.

A griffin strode down main road of the town towards the sheriff's department, shadowed by somepony wearing a dark hood and cloak. Ponies gave him a wide birth, eying the scarred creature and his shady companion with suspicion, but he paid them no attention.

I followed the two of them in through the open door. I didn't want any trouble, but I couldn't be sure he wasn't hiding something under his faded brown serape.

Bad decision.

I didn't even have time to blink before he moved. His twisted around and latched on arm's knotted yellow talons around my throat, lifting me back onto the wall next to the door. I tried to struggle out of the pin, but my back hoofs barely touched the ground and my revolver had fallen to the ground. He leaned in close, turning to look at me with his good eye, a ragged scar running down the other.

“Why do ju follow us?” He asked, his voice coming out in ragged rasps.

I tried to respond, but my voice caught in my throat. It was all I could do to draw breath with his talons wrapped around my neck.

A loud click stopped him short of suffocating me. Not moving, he darted his eye to the side.

“You put down my cousin!” I could hear Babs behind the griffin, “Unless you want me to paint the wall with your brains.”

He didn’t move. I could see something shuffle the feathers under his wing. I tried to yell, but all that came out was a stifled and hoarse whistle.

“Put her down, Ramirez” A soft voice came out from under the hooded pony’s cowl.

I fell to the floor. My flank hurt, but I picked myself up from the ground. At least now I could breath.

Babs reset the shotgun to its idle position on her saddle, relaxing only slightly.

“Now that we’re done makin’ fools u’ ourselves,” Brae’s obviously disgruntled voice started, “Will sompony tell me what the hay is goin’ on?”

“We're here for this.”

A sheet of paper floated out onto the table, enveloped in a pale violet aura. Something about that voice seemed familiar to me. . . .

“Right good of a job ya' done so far,” Brae snapped, “Nearly killed my cousin, an' now ya' tell me you're here to . .”

“Wait,” I cut him off, “Sweetie Belle?”

She lowered her cowl, bearing a surprised smile.

“Applebloom?”

* * * * * *

Neither of us had expected to see the other in Appleoosa. She had come knowing Babs was there, but didn't want anypony to know that it was her. She had hired Ramirez in part because she needed protection, in part because he would be a big help with any problems around town.

He didn't talk much, but best I could tell he was far from home. Hard to tell a person's character when they don't talk to you, but the griffin respected his contract.

Not that anypony could out pay Sweetie anyway, with how good her career had been going. It was her fame that had caused her problems, though. Some drunken buck in Manehattan got a little touchy with her a few months back. From the way Babs told it, she knocked him senseless, but Sweetie would only blush and put it on account of him being nearly dead drunk anyway.

She figured out about a week later that he had been a part of a mafia that controlled the docks, and they were none too happy about her embarrassing one of their own. She covered her tracks and pulled a few strings and rode back to Ponyville.

From there, it didn't take her long to hear about the call out from Appleoosa.

As for hiding herself, she seemed to hate it. Not that she craved attention, but that she couldn't sing. She had to contain herself to humming short tunes to herself. Her records sold well, which meant that anypony would recognize her voice immediately. I know she didn't drink much normally, but given that there was little else for her to do, she did spend a night or two at the bar with Babs and I. Of course, she didn't drink anything harder than wine. Something about being bad for her voice or something.

I didn't question it. She had a beautiful voice, and I didn't want to be responsible for ruining it.

She spent most of the day in her room at the hotel, but Babs, Brae, and I needed to check out some things out from the town. The Rockhoof tribe had been seen at the mine again, but had been driven off this time. I just wanted this over. There was silver in there and I planned to get at it.

“Good thing is,” Brae said, breathing hard after the short climb up the hill, “Buffalo tracks is easy to find, and easy to follow.”

“Dangerous part is when we get there,” Babs finished.

Babs was still in her old uniform, but it had been touched up; its newly polished brass buttons glinting against the navy blue of the jacket. I couldn't help but notice she was wearing both her medal bars and her new deputy badge.

“Ah'm hoping we can negotiate with 'em. Last thing Ah want is more blood on the streets a' this town.”

I looked over the bottom of the hill. Ten ponies, each in their mismatched stetsons, and each holstered with at least a six-shooter. I had a hat of my own by then; I reckon I didn't look much different. Well, except for the red bow on the back, of mine.

By the looks of us, I knew Brae was expecting trouble.

“The tracks go to the east and north, into the canyons.”

“Good thing its mornin',” I said, “They look to be a long way away, and Ah don't much like the idea o' bein' out here at night.”

We set off down the other side of the small hill, the posse rounding the side. We moved through the plains, following the tracks as the day went on. The ponies behind us spread wide from each other, a straight line just out of hoof reach of one another. I could tell they were nervous, but most of them grew up on the frontier. They knew what they were going into.

We stopped short of a small canyon that opened up in front of us. A small stream trickled out over a few rocks in a short, wide bed. It must have been a drought, and a hot one at that.

“I don't like this,” Babs nickered, “There's too much we can't see. They could trap us at any point in here.”

Brae shook his head, “Ah have ta' go in there. It's the only way to solve this.”

“Ah'm not lettin' you go in there alone,” I said, turning back, “Shovel, grab four a' ya' and go up on that ridge. Shout if ya' see anything.”

Shovel nodded and motioned the four ponies nearest to him as he set off up the side of the ridge. I didn't know him long, but I shared a drink with him once or twice. He was a good pony.

“The rest of ya' stay ready.” I turned back to Babs.

“C'mon, cousin. Let’s get this over with.”

She nodded, shifting uneasily beneath her saddle.

“I still don't like it,” she said, stepping forward into the canyon.

* * * * * *

The sun blazed high in the sky. It's a good thing I had on my hat; otherwise I would have been too hot to even go on any further. I'm still not sure how, but Babs didn't seem tired in the least. Brae looked to be in bad shape though.

The canyon walls got higher as we went through and the path twisted around on itself behind us. We broke for water once or twice, but we kept pushing forward at Brae's word. Every now and again I could see dust or a rock fall from the cliff side to the right. It was hot down there, but I could only imagine how hot it would be up there, with no shade.

We stopped just before an overhang that reached across the sides of the canyon.

Two buffalo stood just before a bend ahead of us, both wearing feathered headdresses, but one's was noticeably larger.

“Why do you come here, short-coats?” A low, booming voice echoed, “Is it not enough that you take our tramping grounds? Do you come now to take our canyon homes as well?”

Brae shook his head, stepping forward.

“No, we only want to violence to stop,” He said, looking back, “The mine on the hill . .”

“Belongs to the Rockhooves!” The Buffalo shouted, huffing dust from his broad nose.

Brae stopped. I looked around suspiciously. They didn't seem very friendly to me.

Apparently the rest of posse agreed. I could hear one of them softly neigh behind me. No doubt they had loosened the straps on their holsters.

Brae didn't seem frightened, though, and stepped out again.

“We don't want any trouble, we just want. .”

Brae, look out!” Shovel shouted out from somewhere above us.

A thunderous, crack resounded the canyon walls. Faster than I could think, Babs stomped down, lowering the shotgun on her saddle. I clenched my teeth around my own pistol, clenching my jaw as I fired myself. The small gorge between us suddenly pounded with the rolling thunder of buffalo hooves as they all rushed towards us.

Another crack split the air above the canyon as a bullet tore through Shovel's foreleg. A pained scream rent the air as he collapsed. He struggled for a moment trying to slow his fall, but he tumbled right into the stampede.

BLAM!

My head reeled for a moment, recovering. Babs backpedaled, bracing herself for another shot. I stepped back to get behind her, firing twice into the horde of buffalo.

Brae shot twice, felling a tribesman with each shot. He tried to fire a third, but the force was too much and the gun flew out of his mouth.

“Babs!” He shouted, “Applebloom, RUN!.”

Babs planted herself, chambering two more shots into her gun. I fired two more shots into the mass of dust and fur. I couldn't tell for the rest of the posse, but Babs and I weren't leaving without Brae.

More shots rang out from behind us. One pony, then another, and another stepped in line next to us, smoke filling the air as we sent round after round sailing blindly into the horde.

They began to slow down, the bodies of their own warriors blocking their way. Moving forward under the pass, we pressed forward towards where Brae was trying to pick up his gun. Trails of smoke flew over the canyon, the two ponies left up there shooting back at whoever had shot Shovel.

The buffalo with the bigger headdress turned and left over the hill, as the other shouted a retreat.

They turned and fled, tripping over the bodies of their trampled and mutilated kin. I clenched my teeth, firing two shots up at the one still standing on the ride, but the shot wide, glancing off the cliff face at his side.

The air cleared as the dust settled.

Brae limped over to his pistol and placed it back in his holster, trying not to look at the bodies strewn across the dry riverbed.

“That won't be the last of them,” He said, shaking his head, “We need to get back soon.”

We started back out towards the canyon mouth.

CRACK.

A shot rang out through the air, piercing the silence. I turned back to see somepony back away from the ledge of the cliff.

Brae looked at me, his eyes wide with shock. He coughed, blood trickling down his lip. I caught him as he collapsed down, keeping him from hitting the ground entirely.

“App. . . . Apple. . Bloom,” He sputtered choking gasping breaths through the blood. “I. . . I . . . .”

His eyes rolled back as he stopped breathing completely.

Tears burned at my eyes, mingling with the dust in my coat. Choking sobs caught in my throat.

I screamed in anger, gripping my revolver as hard as I can bite. I fired blindly at the cliff face, clenching my teeth harder into the wood of the gun with each shot. I knew whoever shot him was gone, but I didn't stop.

The hammer clicked uselessly, as I fired the empty gun. I opened my mouth, letting the gun, now marred with toothmarks, fall to the ground.

“Why,” I managed, sobbing softly. “He just wanted things fixed.”

I shut my eyes as I fell back on my haunches, trying to hold back the tears.

I could hear Babs next to me, her voice sad, but devoid of tears.

“We'll get whoever did this, Appleboom, we'll get him.”

I nodded, my own tears drying. Whatever else would happen, the pony that did this was going to die.

* * * * * *

I hurt. More than anything, I hurt. My body ached and shivered, though I knew that there was nothing physically wrong with me. Babs took to the ground fast, shouting orders and getting ponies on their feet.

Babs told me something, but I couldn't really hear what. It was hard to pay attention to anything.

“I said, hit the bed.” She said, her words coming more into focus, “Or the bar. Getting' hammered probably wouldn't be a bad idea right now.”

I nodded slowly, moving to the saloon. It was nearly empty, but that suited me just fine.

At first I ordered a hard apple cider.

It wasn't hard enough.

One glass and I moved to brandy, downing glass after glass.

At first, my throat burned. I don't think I had ever had brandy before this. I didn't care, though. I needed to stop feeling.

It was dark by the time I had emptied my tab.

I stumbled outside. My head was numb.

The world was spinning around me as I tumbled down the street. I wasn't quite sure where I was going, but I knew I needed a walk. I shuddered as a cold breeze blew past me, stinging my coat. Everything blurred together, but it was dark anyhow.

“Applebloom?” I heard a familiar voice call my name, “What are you doing, out here?”

I turned around, hoof by hoof, trying not to trip over myself.

“Shweety Belle. . ?”I slurred out, “Ah wa' jusht. Jusht. .uh. Damnit.”

It was just too hard to think. It could have been losing Brae, or it could have been all the whiskey, but my head hurt.

I could feel the tears starting again, just at the thought of him.

“I was worried about you and . . . what?”

I had started crying again. I fell down, unable to stand anymore. Tears streaked down my coat again, falling to the ground beneath me.

I felt something wipe my cheek, drying my tears. I opened my eyes, confused. Sweetie Belle sat down in front of me.

“Honey, it's alright. I heard what happened.” She said, looking sad, but offering a smile nonetheless. “I'm here for you.”

I closed my eyes and nodded, trying not to cry. I had to be strong. For my friends.

I steadied my gaze and tried to stand up, but stumbled back down.

She caught me. I leaned into her mane as she lifted me back up.

I faltered a bit as I pulled myself away. I didn't really want to move.

“Ah'm sorry, Ah just. .”

I stared in shock as she pressed her lips into mine, but I relinquished and leaned into her warm, wet kiss. I sucked in a breath through my nose, not wanting it to end. Eventually, she pulled away.

I nearly dropped.

“Don't apologize,” She said, smiling warmly. “Now let’s get you inside somewhere to sleep this off.”

I was confused. I was cold, but I was sweating. I was sad from before, but happy, sort of, I think? I did know one thing for sure; I was exhausted.

I nodded, letting Sweetie help carry me back inside.

* * * * * *

My eyes burned at the light as the curtains were drawn. The covers were thick and plush, though I wasn't sure why. My temples screamed in pain at the sunlight; even the shade of the blanket I pulled over my eyes didn't seem to help.

The covers glowed a bluish gray and lifted off of me and down to my back legs.

“Wakey wakey.”

It was Sweetie Belle.

Celestia please tell me she didn't cook breakfast.

I rolled off the side of the bed, trying to shake the piercing pain out of my head.

“Wait,” I froze, “If Ah woke up here then does that mean. . .” My eyes went wide. I liked her, sure, but I don't think I was quite ready for that.

“Nope,” She said, laughing, “Though you still might consider taking a bath; you smell awful.”

I did smell awful. I wasn't exactly sure of what happened the night before, nor am I too sure now. Though, I am pretty sure that I threw up at least once. By the smell of it, once at the least.

She winked at me and whispered, “I'll save that for when you're sober.”

Part of me was still confused about this, but the other part just accepted it. I was too worn out.

I needed to do something about this headache.

She pulled on her cloak and walked out through the door, “There's coffee in the den; you probably shouldn't drink again for a while.”

I was glad for the coffee. Without it I probably wouldn't have been able to get back outside.

Babs had the whole town organized and ready by the noon that day. Pretty much everypony already had some sort of gun, and it wasn't even that hard to get them all to carry them around with them all day. The town was ready for another stampede.

It wasn't a stampede Babs and I were worried about though. The two ponies that had survived on the ridge had seen cow-ponies; about a dozen of them. It didn't seem like a lot to me, but there could have been more. Even if there weren't any more than twelve, they were smart. While we were away, another group of buffalo stormed the city. Thankfully, we had nearly twenty ponies and a griffin waiting for them.

A griffin armed with two shotguns and a strange scoped rifle, it turns out. Whatever his story was, I was glad he was on our side.

Scoots ' wagon rode in early in the afternoon.

“Hey Applebloom, Babs,” She nodded from the driver’s seat of the wagon. “Sweetie Belle, don't think I can't tell that's you under that hood.”

It was a strange wagon, self-powered by the engine on the back. Later on I discovered it was powered by burning alcohol; something there was no shortage of on the frontier.

She jumped down from the drivers couch, looking back over her shoulder.

“I'll make sure we can catch up later. Right now, there's about five buffalo running after us.”

“Dammit,” Babs stomped the ground with a forehoof. “This is no place to get caught in a rush.”

She looked around, thinking quickly. “We're at the bottom of the hill. We run, and we'll get run down. Scoots, you take cover on top of the wagon. I'll take the left; it's a clearer shot, and I've got the bigger gun. Applebloom; you take the right, I've seen you shoot, we need your best aim today. Ramirez. . . .”

I was still confused as to why she didn't just have him fly out and shoot them all, but then she had much more experience with gunfights.

“Fly Sweetie Belle. . .”

“Fly me nowhere,” She said, sounding just a little insulted, “I can defend myself, you know.”

She lifted up part of her cloak, exposing two of her own revolvers.

“Okay then,” Babs continued, wasting no time, “Ramirez, you do a fly over, see if you can't see anything. I don't like surprises.”

Scoots jumped into the small baggage area on the top, lowering a small ladder for Sweetie Belle.

“Nice t'meetcha',” I could hear a strange colt say from on top of the wagon, probably to Sweetie Belle, “Ah'm Dave.”

“If'n ya' don' mind, Ah'll be getting' behind y'all. I can't shoot wo'th a damn.”

We all took our positions, waiting for the buffalo to charge us. They came just over the horizon, in a line kicking up dust ahead of them.

“Hold your fire until I say!,” Babs shouted, “We don't want them circling around us to flank us.”

I planted myself partially behind the wagon, gripping my pistol in my teeth. The grip seemed to fit perfectly in the marks that I had bit into it earlier.

Time seemed to drag on as they grew larger and closer. Damn it was hot.

There was something wrong with this, though. Why would they just charge us? And why would they only take five of them?

They came closer. I shuffled the gun I my mouth. They're heads were not lowered, but bobbing up and down doggedly, and their eyes were not narrowed, but widened and blank.

They weren't charging; they were running away.

I stepped out in front of the wagon, dropping my gun on the ground.

“Stop!” I shouted.

Nothing happened. The buffalo still ran.

“Get back, Applebloom,” I could hear Babs shout.

“STOP!” I shouted again his time just as much for those behind me as for the buffalo in front.

Again, nothing changed. I heard the clicking pistols being readied behind me. The buffalo didn't stop.

I planted my hooves, looking forward, getting ready to shout, one more time.

“STOP!” An earsplitting shout rent the air behind me. It shrieked out, shaking the inside of my skull. The thunder stopped as the buffalo slid to a stop in front of me, just as stunned as I was.

I hit the ground, my skull pounding.

The scream stopped. I could see Sweetie Belle walk around the back of the wagon, coughing slightly, testing her voice.

“Are you alright, Applebloom?” She asked, helping me up with her telekinesis.

“Uh, yeah. Sure,” I said, trying to shake the ringing out of my ears.

“What was that?” Babs said, pushing herself up from the ground.

“That, is what happens when you don't listen.” Sweetie Belle answered defiantly.

Babseed shook her head, confused. I was a little confused myself, to tell the truth. I'm not sure how you could not hear a scream like that.

One of the buffalo stood up with a groan.

We all turned.

“Why do you not shoot us?” He said, exasperated, “We run at you, and yet short-coats do not shoot as my brother said they would.”

“Brae wouldn't have wanted us to kill you.”

* * * * * *

“Stone horn attacks at dawn.” The big one in the front informed us.

We stood at the top of the hill. I wasn't sure whether it was safe to bring them fully into Appleoosa, but they hadn't really wanted to go in anyway. At least my mine's entrance was mostly finished by then.

“At least twenty-five armed ponies and a Griffin,” Babs glanced over at Ramirez, “I don't even want to guess how armed he is.”

“Unless they got guns of their own, it'd be a slaughter,” I was confused, “Surely he would know this.”

“He does, but he has a plan.”

The massive creature shook his head, looking down.

“He plans to have a stampede, charging the town from the east, rising with the sun. He knows many warriors will die, but he believes that the old stamping grounds are more important than the lives of his warriors.”

Babs shook her head, “Poni- people like that are the reason I left the cavalry.”

“The bandits,” I said, “They must be out to take the town by surprise.”

“Yes,” The large one answered, “They will attack from the north, waiting until the other short-coats are distracted by the Rockhoof warriors. They will strike with speed and surprise.”

“We will be gone by then,” One of the buffalo behind him continued, “We will not fight for Stone Horn, but we would not kill our brothers.”

I understood completely. I would sooner die than do anything to hurt Applejack. It must have been painful for them just telling us this.”

The five of them started out of the shade of the mining depot, towards the southern part of the hill.

“Wait,” I paused, “Uh, what was your name again?”

The one in the lead shook his head, “We forsook our names when we left our brothers. For now, we are nameless.”

Well, I still had one question.

“You must have seen our guns drawn,” I asked, “Why did you still charge.”

“For a swift death.”

* * * * * *

Babs was hard at work, organizing the ponies that Brae had hired before into teams to better defend the city. They divided into teams of three behind various impromptu barricades. Several of the locals joined in, setting up cover, and arming themselves as well.

The north of the town was being watched by Ramirez, who sat on a cloud he brought in high up in the sky, barely discernible from the other sparse clouds. I wasn't sure how he would be able to see anything from up there, but he assured me on his superior griffin eyesight. That and the strange telescope attached to the top of his rifle.

The four of us had decided it would be better not to frighten the town any more than they already were. If our last scuffle with the Rockhooves was any sign, there was going to be plenty to keep the town busy. As soon as Ramirez saw them coming, the four of us would go out to meet them.

In the meantime, though, there was nothing for me to do. Scootiloo had taken Babs to go see some invention of hers, but I stayed in the saloon. Again, it was empty. Except this time I couldn't drink.

Last thing I wanted was a shootout and a hangover.

So I sat at the bar and stared out the window.

“I'm sorry.”

“What?” It was Sweetie Belle.

“I'm sorry for the other night,” She said, “You were in a dark place and I . . . .”

She sighed heavily, “And I took advantage of you.”

I shook my head.

“I just couldn't bear to see you. . .”

“Stop,” I said, moving to the stool next to her.

“Way Ah see it, you were there when Ah needed it most.”

I slid my hoof onto the counter top over hers. She looked up at me, her green sparkling. I'm not sure I had ever felt that way before. It was like my whole chest lifted into the air. I never wanted to see those eyes sad again, for any reason.

* * * * * *

Dawn broke over the eastern sky, the glow of the sun peeking over the distant mesas. Just barely, I could make out the silhouette of the buffalo against the dim light. They were waiting for the sun to rise up, to blind us as they charged. Most of the city was behind their barricades, waiting for them to charge. Babs, Scoots, Sweetie, and I were on the roof of the saloon, though. We were better shots for the most part, and needed a clear way out to go get the ponies that started this.

For some reason Dave was sitting up there with us.

“Ah thought you were no good at shootin'?” I asked, puzzled.

He laughed, taking off his bowler hat with his telekinesis, exposing his horn.

“Ah may be no good a' shootin',” He said, setting his hat on a crate next to him, “But Ah'll be damned if anypony knows any more than Ah do 'bout dynamite.”

Well, at least we had that advantage.

Everpony was awake, but it was dead silent. I don't know about anypony else, but I hadn't been able to get any sleep the night before.

A distant shout, deep and thunderous, tore through the silence. The sun pulled itself up. The light burned my tired eyes. I leaned my head forward to block the sun with the brim of my hat.

Dave lifted his hat up to do the same, levitating his bowler hat in front of him.

A cloud of dust kicked up on the horizon, moving across the plains. Even from so far away, the stamping of their hooves carried like distant rolling thunder. The cloud crept down from the horizon, growing louder and louder with each second.

A crack flew from the horde, followed by another, and another. Great, they still had their guns.

The box next to Dave opened up as he hovered out five sticks of dynamite. One by one, each stick's fuse lit, just before launching them into the air.

I stared in awe as each one vanished into the distance. Deep, echoing booms roared, shaking the air of the little town. This pony did know his dynamite.

The explosions did little to slow them down, though, and they still stampeded forward. Thankfully, the horde seemed at least a little smaller than it was before.

They were nearly close enough to shoot, now. The pops of their guns and Dave's dynamite growing closer. I slid my gun into my mouth, fitting my teeth into the bite marks.

A bullet struck the side of the saloon roof, ricocheting up into the air. I dove forward behind one of the ledges before another bullet flew overhead. It probably wouldn't have hit me, but I wasn't going to take any chances.

“Shit,” Babs yelled.

I looked back just in time to see Babs jump off the roof as Scootiloo swept after her to catch her mid-fall.

Three sticks of dynamite lay on the ground around me, their fuses shortening. Dave picked up the box and flung them over the side, jumping off himself.

I pushed myself up from the ground and lunged across the side of the flat roof, hurtling towards Sweetie Belle. She looked back from the gunfight, her eyes wide with shock.

I could barely hear the sizzle of the dynamite behind me. I lowered my head and shoved myself into her, sending us both plummeting into the air over the main street. A gray telekinetic field shadowed around us, but it only slowed us down a little bit. The gravel of the road bit into my skin as I went over Sweetie and skid across the road.

The thunder of the explosions shook the ground. One or two ponies stopped and stared as they ran back.

They didn't stare long though, running back from three buffalo that were barreling down the end of the street with their crude battle saddles firing wildly.

Sweetie Belle lay unconscious in the street.

I scraped the ground, finding my bearings so I could stand up. I grabbed my pistol from the ground and stumbled over to Sweetie Belle's crumpled form. She was still breathing.

One of the buffalo took a shot at me, not bothering to slow down. I planted my hooves in front of Sweetie Belle. I wasn't going to move. I wasn't going to let them hurt her.

I clenched my teeth, squeezing off two rounds at the nearest buffalo. Blood mingled with the taste of sand as the hammer caught on part of my lip. The buffalo fell, a hole in his broad skull. The other two turned towards me, their hooves pounding dust form the earth.

Blam, Blam, Blam! I fired three more times, two of the shots finding their mark, felling another buffalo.

I squeezed off one more round at the last one, but it shot wide, glancing on his horn as he plowed forward.

The ground thundered as he drew closer, there was no time to reload. I planted my hooves. There was no way I was going to overpower a buffalo in a charge. I lowered my head and sprung at him, leaping up from the ground.

My shoulder caught on his horn, tearing the flesh around it as we both lifted into the air. I screamed in pain as me foreleg was wrenched from its socket. His heavy skull collided with my chest, knocking the wind from me and sending me back as we both twisted through the air.

I fell to the ground, landing painfully on my now limp and useless leg. I could feel the ground shudder behind me as the massive beast fell heavily on the ground.

I could see Sweetie on the ground down the street. He hadn't hurt her.

“Over here, I found her!”

It was Scootiloo. Babs came from around the side of the saloon.

“You alright, cousin?”

“Ah'm alright.” I winced, trying to move my leg, “Ah might need some help gettin' up though."

There was a huff behind me, as the buffalo groaned. I heard the familiar click of a pistol's hammer setting. Four of them.

"You might want to think twice," I could hear Sweetie say, "Before you do something stupid."

* * * * * *

Babs was quick to set my shoulder back in its socket after that. Not that it was that easy. If it wasn't for the wooden bit the shoved in my mouth there would have been a lot of screaming involved. Well, more screaming.

I limped across the wide spaces between the buildings, checking the shootout. The buffalo had a second wave that followed the first, carting a few empty wagons for cover. Thankfully, those three that I had dealt with where some of the few lucky enough to get through the barricades. Very few.

Somepony camped out in my mine, to the north of the battle. I wasn't sure who it was, but whoever it was giving the buffalo a lot of trouble getting in close to the town.

I was anxious not being up there behind the barricades with the rest of the town. It made my coat itch, not being able to help.

Babs told me that we needed to be at our best to fight whoever was behind this. Not that I was at my best at the time anyway, but I got the point.

I stepped through the door of the sheriff's office. Babs was sitting behind the desk, staring at Brae's old sheriff's badge, lying on the table.

"It just feels so wrong," Babs said, not looking up, "I know he would want the town safe, but I can't help but feel wrong about this."

I nodded in agreement.

"He never wanted anypo-, anybody to get hurt."

Babs looked up, "Somepony has to be the one to stand up though," She replied, "You can't just let ponies do this kinda things."

She looked back down at the badge.

"I'm not sure anypony could replace Brae, though," She closed her eyes, "He was the best sheriff a town could have."

I nudged the badge over to her with my nose.

"Ah'm sure Ah could think of at least one pony."

She shook her head, shaking it.

"Who, me?" She looked up. "'Bad Seed' as a sheriff. . . ."

"Ah couldn't think a' anypony better for it."

Her mouth lifted into a sad smile. She still missed Brae. We all missed Brae.

"Thanks, cousin."

Babs opened a satchel on the desk and nosed through it for a moment, dropping the rock that Brae used to wear onto the table.

"Here," She said, "Brae would have wanted you to have this."

I looked at it for a moment before slipping it around my neck.

"It's called a memory stone. It's not magical or mystical or anything. It's a reminder. Of anyone that had it before."

"Babs, I. ." I hesitated. "Thank you."

A knock sounded at the door. It was Scootiloo.

"Hey guys, Ramirez saw them. Let’s do this."

* * * * * *

We rode in Scootiloo's strange cart heading north of town. It was unnerving how smooth the ride was. There was still a rumble from the engine, and it still jumped over rocks and divots, but its speed was too even, too regular.

I didn't much like the idea of fighting nearly a dozen armed ponies. Much less that they had higher ground, being in the rocky hills just outside of town beneath the canyons. At least we weren't fighting into the sun, though.

I could see three ponies on the ridge, wearing dusty desperado hats whose shadows obscured their faces.

Three. That meant up to nine ponies we couldn't see.

"Stop the wagon," Babs called out.

The wagon turned to the side, slowing to a stop. Babs adjusted the harness on her battle saddle for moment. She had replaced her usual shotgun with two rifles. She stepped out of the wagon on the side facing the bandits.

"Call off the attack!" She shouted, her voice echoing off the hills. "Put down your guns and you will receive a fair trial!"

The pony in the middle laughed, shouting back, "You think that you, can stop us? There are more of us. And we have the high ground. I would say you should be the one throwing down your weapons."

Five more ponies stood out from behind parts of the hills, standing wide around us in a jagged semi-circle.

"No? He shouted back, I didn't think so."

He turned back and mumbled something. One of them shot at Babs.

Before the shot struck the ground, Babs dove to the side, firing as she strode to get behind cover. Plumes of smoke rose from the pistols in those ponies’ mouths, each firing wildly down on us.

The four of us jerked into action. I crouched around the side of the wagon, taking my aim at one of the ponies on the northeast ride. Sweetie stayed in the cabin, the door now plated with an iron sheet, levitating her two pistols out of the window. Babs fired mercilessly moving backwards to the wagon.

The ponies on the ridge fired a dizzying barrage, but Babs' had nerves, and unflinchingly squeezed off three rounds from her rifles. Two of the deadly shots dropped the ponies standing in the center off the ridge.

I squeezed the trigger, unleashing two bullets of my own. Neither found their mark, but the pony dove behind cover further to the north.

I could hear the bullets ricocheting off the hard ground in front of the wagon, as well as the repeated crack of rifles and pistols being fired to my left. Two more ponies on the ridge fell, this side from the west.

Babs' war rifles were no match for their revolvers. The pony standing in the center turned and called something over his shoulder.

A wagon came over the ridge, backwards. Dammit. They meant to push it at us.

It plummeted down the side of the hill, scattering small rocks and clouds of dirt in its wake.

"Shit!" Scootiloo yelled.

She sat under in the newly covered driver's coach, trying to start the engine. It sputtered and roared into action. Babs jumped into open door. I jumped in after her, keeping my head faced out the door, ready to fire.

"RAMIREZ!" I heard Sweetie shout, "TAKE OUT THAT WAGON!"

The other wagon hit the ground, spinning around. A pony strapped in to the harness was lifted into the air by it a second before planting his hooves into the ground. The wagon pulled into action, bolting by us.

I turned to my window again as our wagon turned to follow the outside of the small rugged valley. I fired off the last two shots in my revolver, sending a pony tumbling down the side of the hill. I slammed the door shut and ducked under the window to reload.

Sweetie's revolvers unloaded eight rounds into the side of the passing wagon, felling one of the passengers.

"RAMIREZ!"

The other wagon circled around again. A blur shot over the head of the other wagon, dropping what looked like two small red candles into the cabin of the wagon.

BOOM

Our wagon shook, leaning to one side for a moment. I shook, looking back out the window, my ears ringing. What was left of the other wagon lay on its side, leaving only one wheel spinning at a strange angle.

There was no way anypony could have survived that.

The wagon stopped. Babs walked out the door. I followed as well, rolling the chamber of my revolver back into the gun.

The three that were left stood halfway down the hill, each behind his own cover.

The four of us stood in a wide line as we walked towards them. Ramirez flew down next to Sweetie to my left.

"This is your last chance," Babs shouted, "Give up now. Nopony else has to die."

The pony furthest to the east stood atop the boulder he was using as cover and threw down his gun, tearing off his hat. The next pony did the same as he followed him down the side of the hill. The third pony sighed and followed the other two down.

The three of them sat in a line in front of us.

"Inside," Babs motioned them into the cart, sure not to take her guns off them.

Scootiloo flew up to the cart's driving chair, as Sweetie Belle stepped into the wagon. I stood to the right of the door, ushering in the last of them. He turned momentarily, a revolver in his mouth.

We forgot to check him.

BLAM

I turned, reaching for my own revolver, but I was too late. A burning lance of pain tore through my shoulder through my foreleg, blasting my already bruised shoulder.

BLAM

The second shot missed, grazing my mane. Time seemed to slow down to a crawl. Just barely, I could see Babs plant her forehooves into the ground facing away from him.

BLAM

The third shot collided sharply with my kneecap, shattering it painfully. I opened my mouth to scream as the force shoved me back, but it seemed as though nothing came out.

I fell to the ground, my bleeding shoulder landing beneath me. I could just barely see Babs buck the colt in the mouth, sending his gun, and many of his teeth, spinning across the ground.

I could hear Sweetie call out through the pounding in my ears. She ran out of the wagon and picked me up, holding me in her hooves. Tear welled up in her green eyes.

"Ah'm. . Ah'll be okay," I told her. I couldn't bear to see her cry.

Babs pressed her forehoof into the neck of the pony that shot me.

She lowered her rifle, arching the holster on her battle saddle so that it pointed towards the outlaw's head.

BLAM

A plume of smoke rose from the barrel of the rifle.

Babs stepped off of the still pony.

He sat up, his eyes frozen in shock. A small stream of smoke rose from the ground next to him.

Babs eyes narrowed.

"I may be a bad seed," She said, "But I don't shoot defenseless ponies."

She pushed him into the back of the wagon.

* * * * * *

It took me three weeks to recover from the fighting. Well, three weeks to get to the point where I could walk. I spent most of those weeks bed ridden. Not that it was bad; I got more than a few visits from Scoots and Babs, and plenty of time with Sweetie.

Turns out, her cooking wasn't nearly as bad as it used to be.

The prisoners were taken back in Scoots wagon; I had to wait for a second ride. Ramirez stayed with us for the wait, seeing as he was hired to protect Sweetie and she didn't move from my side until the second wagon.

Two of the outlaws got twenty year sentences. Babs said they got off light, but they had made a deal of some sort. I had no idea what kind of deal it was, but Babs says that it was a good deal. Knowing her it was probably better for the town than the criminals.

As for the one that shot me, well, he was hanged. Judges order.

She took her new position as town sheriff very seriously. She even laid off the drinking. Nearly two weeks after the last fight, she even went in and cleared out the Shattered Mare. Of course our new deputy wasn't too shabby either. Not that anypony would tell him if he was; Ramirez was kind of intimidating.

My shoulder recovered, mostly. It still aches sometimes in the winter, but it's nothing serious. My left leg, though, had to be amputated. Thankfully Scootiloo designed a prosthesis, I think is what she called it. It's heavy, but it moves fast enough. And it makes one hay of an impact.

I walked out of the mine management building, glad to get out and stretch my legs.

The town was bustling now, even with the recent trouble. The Dust-Horn tribe, mostly warriors that had left the StoneHooves, wandered into town to trade pretty often. Not that the silver mine didn't help.

I trotted down to the new saloon, built from the ruins of the old one. The Not Bad Saloon. Sweetie Belle was tired of sleeping in the hotel, and bought what was left of the old bar and built it. It was surprisingly easy to fix, and she even had additions ordered on for a bedroom.

It was a comfortable room. I complained about the massive size of the bed to Sweetie all the time, but she knew I was just teasing her. Always said it gave us too much room, it'd be more fun for the two of us to fit on a smaller bed.

I walked in through the door, into the evening crowd. I went over to our table, where the six of us would spend most of our evenings. Babs wasn't there yet, but she liked to work late. Scoots, Dave, Ramirez, and Sweetie were already there, though.

I couldn't help but laugh as I went to sit down next to Sweetie Belle. It was their third night trying to play some strange Griffin game that used these weird card things. Dave and Sweetie just used their magic, but Scoots was struggling with using a strange contraption she worked up.

Things were good.

Things were safe.

The smooth pebble still hangs around my neck.

Brae would be happy.