Braeburn slowly opened his eyes to the bright sun above him. It was odd, he didn't remember falling asleep, especially outside. He slowly rolled over so that he was on his stomach and looked at the ground. Sand. He was in the middle of the desert. He sighed briefly and racked his brain to remember how he had gotten there. A buzzard cawed near to him, startling him slightly. He waved his hoof at it and shooed it away, sending a shooting pain up his right arm. At further inspection, he saw that his right shoulder was bleeding. He winced in pain, but then his eyes flew wide open as he looked around his surroundings for the first time.
Laying next to him was another stallion, face-down in the sand. He wore a similar vest as Braeburn and his light brown fur was stained by a pool of blood that had been seeping out of his side. Braeburn let out a shout and backed away from him, only to run into a pale yellow body behind him, this one face-up with flies buzzing around his head. he finally rose to his feet to assess the situation after his initial shock. Another 4 bodies were strewn around him, all bloody and lifeless. 3 of them wore the same form of vest. Then Braeburn remembered.
Butch Burgundy.
His mind raced and was suddenly filled with memories as he remembered back to the morning that same day: Braeburn and his posse had started a trek across the desert just South of Appleloosa to find the treacherous outlaw known as Butch Burgundy. One of Burgundy's colt followers they had captured led them through the desert towards his hideout. Sheriff Silverstar, the leader of the posse, prodded the colt, "How much longer 'till we make it to your boss' little hidey-hole?" The sheriff's mustache alone was enough to put a quake in the navy-blue pony's step (as it had done to many criminals before).
"Oh, only a f-f-few more miles this way." the convict shakily answered, "When we get there... what exactly are y-y-you going to do?" Dusty, Braeburn's closest friend, spoke up from the back of the group in a dark voice, "Bring him to justice." The sheriff nodded, "Abso-tively." The culprit gulped and Braeburn gave Dusty a confused glance at the sudden coldness in his voice. Dusty smiled at him under his grey cowboy hat; he was just trying to intimidate the poor fellow. Braeburn was just about to shake his head at him when a multitude of gunshots rang out. He cried out as his shoulder was hit and he fell to the ground. He could barely make out the blue prisoner colt galloping away, and a throng of whooping and shouting proceeded as he blacked out.
Now Braeburn was holding on to the lifeless form of Dusty, his grey cowboy hat now painted red. He was silent for a moment. Dusty had been like an older brother to Braeburn. Not only had he kept him out of trouble, but he had inaugurated him into the posse and been by his side though every adventure they had. Braeburn began to weep quietly, clutching on to his friend's jet black vest.
"All 5 stallions dead."
the blonde stallion stiffened at the choppy alien voice.
"About 3 hours ago, killed by bullets"
He turned slowly around to see a furry brown buffalo sitting about 12 paces from him, cleaning off a shovel. He was very large, almost twice as large as Braeburn was. Although, for a buffalo, he was only slightly larger than average. A short string of beads hung from his right horn and some bright tribal paint was displayed below his eyes. To the right of him were 6 rectangular holes in the ground.
Braeburn looked suspiciously around, "Who are you?"
"Tribe call me Tonto, means 'wild one.' " his broken English was slightly hard to understand, "I went searching for food, found posse lying there. Bullet wounds 3 hours old. I dig graves" He gestured to the 6 identical holes he had dug out in the sand.
Braeburn carefully let down his brother, who until then he had been holding, and got to his feet. " And why the urge to be so gentlepony-like all of a sudden?"
Tonto pointed a large, powerful hoof at Braeburn, " I recognize you, Appleloosan. Your town give tribe new stampeding grounds as well as apple pies. For that, I pay respects."
By this point, Braeburn was skeptically beginning to trust this Tonto, whoever he might be. It seemed odd that he would up and dig a grave for 6 strangers for the act of one town, but he had heard stories of the buffalo being prone to do such things. Tonto spoke again, "Changing sands cover hoofprints. You know who did this?"
Braeburn looked down in anger, "Yeah, a fellow by the name of Butch Burgundy. He's and outlaw with 15 murders and about 2 dozen thefts up his sleeve. Me and my posse were following his trail when.." he paused for a moment and wiped his eye, "Well, I guess he got nervous we would catch him."
Tonto stooped into a bow "It would bring me honor to help you capture him". Braeburn thought for a moment. Another set of hooves would be helpful, but then again they had just met. Maybe he was working for Burgundy and just came by to make sure the job was finished. Then why dig the graves? The sand would cover up the bodies soon enough. There was something about this buffalo stranger, though. He had an element of sincerity to him, like he really wanted to help him find whoever had done this heinous deed.
Braeburn limped over to the buffalo, "You can come along, but get one thing straight first. I'm not looking for revenge. Only justice." It was true. This was how Braeburn was taught to handle things ever since he had joined the posse. He had also been taught to use whatever means necessary to get justice.
The buffalo slowly rose and met the blonde pony's gaze, "You carry great sense of dignity in you, Kemosabe." Braeburn wore a confused look on his face. He was not familiar with the native buffalo term. Tonto, sensing his confusion, explained, "It means 'trusted friend' " It seemed that this really was a buffalo of character.
Braeburn smiled at him, but then cringed as he stumbled from his injured arm. Tonto quickly produced a long white cloth from where he had sitting been sitting, "Stay still. Kemosabe." He began wrapping the cloth around Braeburn's wound and chanted a soft prayer in the native buffalo tongue. Braeburn spoke after Tonto was finished, "I'm not sure where to go from here. If I try and chase after Burgundy, he'd probably recognize me and kill me before I could even get close to him. And I can't just let him go either."
The buffalo was silent. Then, he got up and moved towards where Dusty's body was laying. He started another native song and removed his black vest. Braeburn probably would have done something, but he wanted to see what the buffalo had in mind. Tonto looked around for a moment and then grabbed a nearby knife. While continuing his native chant, he dug into the vest, cutting out a strip of the dark leather that got thinner as it neared the end. Braeburn stayed silent as Tonto carved his dead friend's vest into a strip. There was not much he could do but watch. The buffalo proceeded to cut out two oval-shaped holes in the center of the strip and hand it to Braeburn. "Sometimes," he stated, "Hero must wear mask."
Braeburn stared at the mask before him. This was Dusty's own vest, a reminder to him of what he had to do to maintain justice in Equestria. This is what Dusty would have wanted him to do. With a slightly quivering hoof, he reached out and took the mask. He tied the dark strip around his eyes and thought of what Dusty would've said to him. Braeburn looked up at Tonto, "Let's go get some justice."
Blackwater Creek. It had been founded hundreds of years ago by settler ponies searching for gold. Most were unsuccessful in their searches, but they lacked the resources to move back home or anywhere else. After only the measly amount of gold there dried up, they were stuck living in that city. Most had taken to a life of crime, but some tried to make a change in the city for the best. These ponies were often lynched on the spot.
Since then the town had changed very little. The buildings had not been renovated since its construction, so they all sagged and most had more than one board missing from the walls. Ponies of all ages lay on the side of the street, and when the nearby creek flooded and turned the dirt roads into mud, it was nearly impossible to designate a pony from the ground. The town had a reputation for being devious; nearly everypony there was either a criminal or had something stolen from them. If there was somepony who had a connection with Butch Burgundy, this was the place to find him.
When Braeburn and Tonto walked into Blackwater, they could tell they were not welcome. The ponies laying on the side of the road looked up at them as they passed by if only to give them an angry stare. Braeburn figured they had probably never seen a pony not covered in dirt. Trying hard not to think about it, Braeburn adjusted his black mask and pressed on.
"So, where do you figure would be a good place to start looking for criminals?" He asked Tonto.
The great buffalo opened his mouth to answer as an old grey pony was thrown out the doors of a building just in front of them. A voice cam from the building, "And don't you ever come back!" A beer bottle flew through the door and crashed near the old pony as he blacked out (most likely from too much hard apple cider). Tonto pointed a hoof towards the decaying building, and Braeburn nodded.
As they went through the rotted swinging doors, they were greeted with the pungent odor of sweat and alcohol. Groups of large, beefy ponies were gathered around tables sharing drinks or playing cards. It looked like one of the groups was pressing a smaller green pony about unpaid debts. There were some mares too, all rather seductively dressed, gathered by the stairs, and a skinny piano pony played nervously in the corner. Yup, Braeburn thought, I've come to the right place.
Braeburn motioned to Tonto, and they headed towards the bar stools. Braeburn sat down next to an unconscious stallion asleep in his mug. The large buffalo tried to shuffle into the pony-sized stool, but after several unsuccessful attempts, he settled with standing behind it. A light blue pony stood behind the counter with his back turned to them. On his flank was a picture of a wooden beer keg.
Braeburn cleared his throat, "One hard cider, please" The bartender pony turned around. He was standing on his hind legs, polishing an old mug, and a pin-striped vest covered his torso. The curly black mustache on his upper lip moved up and down as he talked, "We don't take too kindly to strangers 'round here," he spat in the mug and pointed it at Braeburn, "'specially ones wearing masks."
Braeburn looked around the room, "Well I ain't one to go looking for trouble" some of the ponies were already shooting him hateful gazes and whispering to the others around their tables. Tonto looked at Braeburn with a concerned face. The masked pony leaned in towards the bartender, " All I need is to know where I can find a fellow by the name of Butch Burgundy" at this, a brown stallion pulled Braeburn's shoulder away from the counter, "You say you're lookin for somepony, friend?" The pony held Braeburn by the collar at eye-level, and there was silence in the bar, "Well if you ask me, you're lookin' in the wrong place." After struggling for a few seconds, Braeburn got out of the pony's grip and slammed his face on the counter. There was a loud clamor of voices, and two ponies rushed towards him. Tonto quickly reacted and held them back with his massive forelegs.
Braeburn interrogated the pony he had under his arms. "Why's that, you know who I'm looking for? He your boss or something?" The bartender spoke up in a calm voice, "That's enough" There was silence, and the masked stallion looked up to see a revolver pointed at his snout. The bartender spoke again with the same calm voice, "You may not've been looking for trouble, but you sure as hell found it." Braeburn looked around at the angry faces getting ready to kill him if he made the wrong move. He glanced at Tonto, who was being pinned to the ground by three or four ponies. The bartender cocked his pistol, "Now get out of my bar." Braeburn was silent for a moment. He felt ridiculous with his mask on. He let go of the pony he was holding down, and he shoved Braeburn as soon as he was free. Braeburn looked around the room one last time before walking out of the bar and into the street. He could feel the concentrated heat of a dozen ponies staring a hole into his back as he and his buffalo companion walked out.
Braeburn felt red with anger. Not only had that trip to the bar done absolutely nothing for them, but now they were probably farther away from getting information then before. Tonto spoke to his companion as they walked down the dirt path, "This town give us no more information. Search other towns, find Burgundy."
A voice sounded from a nearby barrel, "Huh, Burgundy?" Braeburn and Tonto stared at the barrel, then looked at eachother. Out of the barrel popped an old grey pony -- the same they had seen get tossed out of the bar-- with a sack-like cap and covered in trash. "Ooooohhhhhh," the drunken pony slurred, "You boys must be looking for Butch Burgundy, hah?" Tonto, looked at Braeburn, then back at the pony in a barrel, "You...know where to find him?"
The old drunk pony was silent for a moment. He seemed to have fallen asleep. Tonto slammed his hoof down on the ground, rousing him back away, "Word has it he'll be on the train leavin' just an hour from now. Something 'bout having to skip town." The pony seemed was swaying back and forth as he talked. Braeburn cleared his throat, "much obliged mister." He signaled to Tonto to follow him. The old grey pony managed to say, "Anything for a pony in a mask" before he fell back into his barrel.
The only thing that had ever been added to Blackwater Creek was the train station. Though the poor city couldn't afford it, a decree had gone out that all cities on the Western Frontier of Equestria were to have a train station built in them to help with transportation. To pay off for the station, the fares were through the roof, so it was still impossible for most of Blackwater's residents to leave the city. Since nearly nopony bought a ticket, the whole thing backfired and the train station rotted down in the first few decades it was built, and most ponies just stayed clear from it.
Despite all the decay, the train station seemed fairly occupied that afternoon. There were 2 stallions standing at the station, guarding the entrance. One of them held a shotgun and the other was carrying a powerful-looking rifle. Braeburn and Tonto hid behind an old wooden barn adjacent to the station, anticipating Burgundy to show up. Braeburn looked down at the pistol that he was issued when he became a ranger. He began putting a silver bullet in each of the 6 slots. Tonto looked down at the gun, "Why use silver bullets?" He inquired. Braeburn paused for a moment. He remembered back to what had been said to him when he was first given the pistol, "All a pony's got for himself is his life. That's his only real possession. Silver bullets keep me from taking that away from anypony too quickly." With that he spun the cylinder around and snapped it back into place. Tonto looked at the masked pony, "Tribe told me they were used to kill demons." Braeburn sighed and looked back towards the station, "Well yeah, they do that too."
A third pony walked up the street toward the train station, flanked by a pair of armed stallions. He was dark grey, and a black, tattered cowboy hat hid his face. Bellow his head was a dark vest that seemed to have as many blood stains as thread-bare holes. His flank showed the picture of a sack of money sitting in a pool of blood. Braeburn could only assume how he had received such a gruesome cutiemark. This was Butch Burgundy. Braeburn's first urge was to charge toward him and shoot him down, but he knew that would only end in death on both sides. Instead, he thought of a better plan.
Braeburn motioned to Tonto to follow him, and they moved to the other side of the barn. Now, they were positioned with Burgundy and his two guards between them and the station. After a few moments, Braeburn and Tonto snuck towards Burgundy and his guards. One of the armed ponies at the train station (who seemed to have been dozing off) looked up at the three outlaws heading towards him, and he spotted two figures following them. "There!" he shouted as he lifted up his rifle to eye-level.
At the sudden voice, Braeburn lurched towards the guard pony in front of him, knocking him down. Tonto delivered a severe kick to the other guard pony's head and grabbed his weapon. After taking down the first guard, Braeburn grabbed hold of Burgundy's collar with one hoof and held his revolver to his head with another. This was the first time Braeburn had actually seen Butch Burgundy's face outside of a "wanted" poster. He was very gruff-looking and a few grey whiskers were growing from it. A black, leathery patch covered his right eye, but his left eye glared straight into Braeburn's with a dark crimson shade. The ponies at the station started shouting, but Tonto pointed the gun he had recently relieved one of the guard ponies from.
Braeburn spoke to Burgundy, "Sir, you're under arrest for multiple counts of both theft and murder." Butch just stared at him, and then he spoke calmly, "You're a ranger then, huh? You don't look much like a ranger with that mask on. What's your name, son?" Braeburn knew he couldn't give away his true identity to Burgundy. Well, he figured, this was as good a time as any to think of an alias.
"You can call me the Lone Ranger." There was silence except for a distant train whistle, then Burgundy began laughing, "The lone ranger? Hah! Well it's certainly original, I'll give you that." his hacking laughter showed off his rotting yellow teeth, "If you're the lone ranger, how do you explain your friend over there?" Burgundy gestured at Tonto, and he felt slightly nervous. Braeburn shook him so that he would stop laughing, "This is serious Burgundy. Now, you've done a lot of bad things, and now you're gonna have to go to jail for it."
Burgundy was not as convinced as Braeburn was, "Is that so?" The train whistle sounded again, closer this time, and Burgundy nodded towards something behind Braeburn. The masked stallion was just looking around to see what was behind him that Burgundy had nodded at when he was hit hard in the back of the head. He lost his grip on Burgundy and fell to the ground, Tonto soon after him. Two ponies with large bumps on their heads stood over the fallen pair, "not so fun is it?" one of them jeered as he kicked dirt at them. But they were too dazed to make sense of it.
Braeburn looked towards the train station with fuzzy vision. He saw a moving train and 5 ponies grabbing on to the sides. Among them was the vicious outlaw they were chasing. Burgundy looked back at Braeburn and lifted his hat to him, "Another time, 'Lone Ranger,'" and Braeburn could only watch in his stunned state as one of the most-wanted convicts in the West escaped into the sunset.
