Carrot Top awoke, saw the bright sunlight streaming in from outside, and started to panic. “Shoot!” she exclaimed, throwing herself from her bed. “Oh no, I’m late!”
“Huh?” Ditzy Doo asked from the next bed over, blinking rapidly. She, too, noticed the sunlight. “Oh, darn!” she exclaimed herself as she beat her wings in panic. “I’m late too!”
“I have to till the south field today!” Carrot Top exclaimed. “That one’s always full of rocks for some reason, it takes forever…”
“I have to get into uniform!” Ditzy said herself, as she joined Carrot Top in rushing for the bathroom, the two mares managing to get stuck in the door as they both tried to wedge their way in. “And make sure Dinky heads off to school okay!”
“I mean, I’m a little ahead, that’s why I agreed to go to the Mild West…”
“It’s been a slow month, but that’s no excuse to show up to the Post Office late…”
Carrot Top made it in first, found her toothbrush, and started pumping water from the faucet. It was hoof-powered, which made things difficult when one was also trying to put toothpaste on a toothbrush and fit the brush’s loop around one’s hoof so as to actually use it.
Ditzy, meanwhile, had rushed straight for the shower, or where the shower should have been. Instead she only found a blank wooden wall. “My shower!” she exclaimed. “What happened to – oh, there!” she glanced up and saw that somehow her shower had become just a faucet sticking out of the ceiling, also hoof-powered, and not separated from the rest of the bathroom. She started pumping, bracing herself for a burst of cold water, but the water that came out was actually surprisingly warm. Not hot by any means, but much warmer than it should have been.
Carrot Top let out a cry of surprise as some of the water hit her as Ditzy fanned her wings. “Hey!” she exclaimed even as she stuck the toothbrush in her mouth. “Karefuh!”
“Sorry!” Ditzy exclaimed. Then she paused, and Carrot Top did likewise, each looking at the other in confusion.
“What are you doing in my home?” They asked at the same time, Carrot Top somewhat less than intelligibly thanks to the toothbrush. Then they looked back out the bathroom – which looked nothing like either of their bathrooms – and at the two-bed hotel room that, in fact, did not resemble either of their homes at all.
Ditzy brushed some of her sopping wet mane from her eyes. Carrot Top took the toothbrush from her mouth. Both mares looked to each other, and once again spoke in unison.
“We cannot tell the girls about this.”
---
My little pony, My little pony
Ahh ahh ahh ahhh...
My little pony –
We’re as close as friends can ever be!
My little pony –
So come on take a trip with me!
A big world tour; new people to meet
New sights to see; and new things to eat
When you’re seeing the world with your friends
The fun you’ll have will never end!
You have my little ponies –
We’ll be seeing all of you real soon!
---
Ditzy felt bad about it, but she couldn’t remember the name of the most recent town that they had stopped in – after a while they had all started to blur together. She felt particularly bad due to the reason that she and Carrot Top had come down south to Caballeria and the Mild West: a little more than twenty years ago, Caballeria had gotten itself into a war with Equestria, and lost. Ditzy couldn’t remember all the circumstances of the war (she felt bad about that, too) other than it having something to do with Caballeria’s poor economic state and King Espada Doblada wanting to distract the Caballeros from that fact, but what she did recall was that Caballeria had gotten a new King out of it, a former pirate-turned-freedom fighter named Pabellón Pirata. Caballeria was now a client state of Equestria’s, protected by the larger nation while it sorted out its economic and political woes. The status of client state was set to end within the next ten years, or sooner if both Luna and King Pabellón agreed.
Regardless, after twenty years, the precise reasons for the war, the fact that it was the Caballeros who had started it, and that King Pabellón had been hailed as a hero upon taking the throne, was starting to be forgotten by the Caballeros. A small but notable section of its populace was starting to think of the whole event as a naked power grab by Equestria and Pabellón, and questioning the continued presence of a token Equestrian troop deployment in Caballeria. This concern had only been exacerbated when, a little over a year previously, a certain six Equestrian mares had become the bearers of the Elements of Harmony, the most powerful magic in all of ponydom – and yet another advantage for Equestria, a kingdom that seemed to only ever rise.
Thus, Carrot Top and Ditzy’s arrival in the region. Princess Luna had hoped to re-assure the Caballeros that the Elements were just normal ponies, not some kind of elite warriors or mages that Equestria would use to force their will on others. They were not living weapons, but simply ponies like any others. Some part of Ditzy wondered if she and Carrot Top had been chosen since they were particularly normal amongst their friends. After all, Trixie was Luna’s personal student, Lyra was a bard and musician of incredible talent, and Cheerilee, while a simple schoolteacher now, had led a very full and storied life. Even Raindrops had incredible strength for a pegasus, a fact that storytellers tended to play up.
By comparison? Ditzy Doo was a simple mail-mare and single mother, and Carrot Top a carrot farmer, most of whose product was sold simply in Ponyville or nearby towns, or occasionally in Canterlot. Of all their friends, they had the least amount of extra-ordinariness about them. Not that Ditzy thought of this as being a bad thing. Her earth pony friend, on the other hoof…
“Um…Carrot Top?” Ditzy asked. The two were sitting at a thoroughly disreputable saloon, or the closest that this town could manage to such. Ditzy strongly suspected that the disreputable appearance was part of the appeal – the weapons on the walls looked like replicas, the “dirt” on the tables and floors was, on close inspection, simply a paint job, and the wait staff had been very friendly (and for that matter, Ditzy had never heard of a disreputable saloon with a wait staff, or menus).
Carrot Top had been glaring – maybe, she wasn’t very good at glaring – out the window they were sitting next to, and shook her head at Ditzy’s voice. “Sorry,” she said, then nodded her head outside. “Look across the street though. Through that store’s window.”
Ditzy attempted to do so, but with one eye wandering low today, insisting on keeping an eye on the table, it wasn’t easy. She covered that one with a hoof and squinted with the other. “I see…a barrel of apples?”
Carrot Top nodded, squinting a little herself. “The barrel has the Apple Trust’s logo on the side.” She let out a long sigh, turning back to her menu of thoroughly disreputable dishes. You could tell because of the names – ‘Bandito Burritos’, for example. “I just wish that we could go somewhere without being reminded about them…”
Ditzy frowned as she looked back to Carrot Top, taking a moment to blink a few times and rub her eyes. She had a feeling that she was going to need glasses someday. “I thought you and Applejack were getting along now,” she said. For a very long time, Carrot Top had lived in envy of Sweet Apple Acres and the Apple family, whose extensive business conglomerate had a virtual monopoly on apples throughout Equestria, and a heavy stake in apple markets beyond.
Carrot Top nodded. “We are. But still…” she sighed, setting down her menu and looking to Ditzy. Like all of Ditzy’s friends, she had long ago learned how to look at Ditzy without staring at her walled eyes. “I don’t know. I think I get jealous like some ponies get allergies, it comes and goes. Most days I’m just fine and happy with what I have. But some days…” she leaned on one hoof, looking back out at the apple barrel. “Wouldn’t it be nice to have a Golden Harvests logo on a crate full of carrots over there?”
Ditzy considered for a few moments. “It would be,” she conceded, as she looked back to the menu. Desperado Dulce Patatas, probably. Maybe she’d try some of the chicha the menu mentioned as well? The non-fermented version it advertised, though. “But I don’t think now’s the time to be worrying about that. We’re basically on vacation right now.”
---
Truth be told, this was probably the closest thing that Big MacIntosh had taken to a vacation in years. Which to him only suggested that he needed to get a better travel agent.
The big red stallion trotted along at a comfortable pace, heedless of the weight he lugged along behind him from the train – said weight being an entire apple tree, not yet in bloom but still with bright green, crisp leaves. The base of the tree’s trunk was still surrounded by dirt and wrapped in cloth, both kept moist to ensure that the tree would survive its journey into the Mild West. The tree was twenty feet tall if it was an inch, and weighed in at a good seven or eight tons, but Big Mac hardly noticed it. Granted, that was mostly because it was on a nice wheeled flatbed cart hooked up to his harness, but it was still an impressive weight for most. Many of the mares at the station – and no few of the stallions – had eyes locked on Big Mac in amazement.
“Easy there, Big Mac! Don’t want Bloomberg to get all the way here just ta’ break him now!”
Except Applejack, of course, since even leaving aside the subject of their relation, she had eyes only for the tree. Which she had named, because of course she had. “AJ, one a’ these days, you and me are gonna have to have a talk,” Big Mac noted as he started cantering clear of the train. It was bound for back inland, while Bloomberg was heading out to New Appaloosa, and needed to wait for the next train.
Applejack only grinned wickedly at her big brother. “Ah seen yer Smarty Pants doll,” she said in a low voice.
Big Mac couldn’t stop himself from sputtering a little at that. “Not so loud!” he insisted, glancing around. He wanted to be the kind of stallion who could just own up to still having a Smarty Pants toy from his childhood, but he couldn’t quite muster it.
Applejack’s only response was a laugh and a playful bump with her flank against Big Mac’s own, though she quickly dropped back a few steps to make sure the action didn’t shake Bloomberg loose. Big Mac did his best to ignore Applejack proceeding to talk to the tree. The train had pulled away by now, heading south and then east. The town they were now in – it was called Monte Rey, even though Big Mac couldn’t see a single mountain – was on the furthest western edge of what was broadly considered to be “settled” Caballeria. Beyond the river that bordered it the Mild West began – vast stretches of desert, scrubland, and prairie with few meaningful landmarks, and where the concept of ‘national borders’ essentially didn’t exist, or at least couldn’t be enforced.
Big Mac frowned at the thinning crowd in the station as he unhooked himself from the cart that carried Bloomberg (consarn it, now he was using that name…). “Shouldn’t Braeburn have met us here?” he asked.
Applejack glanced up from Bloomberg. “Shoot,” she said, looking about herself. “D’ya think he missed his own train?”
Big Mac thought over what he knew of Braeburn. “Ah’ll go look for him, you stay with Bl…the tree,” he said, though Applejack didn’t miss his near slip and chuckled. Big Mac himself only grunted. “Be back in a jiff.”
Monte Rey was fairly large by the standards of the region, but it was still tiny next to even Ponyville. The whole town couldn’t have been more than three or four dozen buildings at most, stretching out on the east side of the rail tracks in a simple square bisected by two major roads, one stretching north-south and the other east-west. Everything of interest was right along those two roads, and as Big Mac trotted through the town, his eyes swept it over. Despite its small size, however, the earth pony was a little concerned. It was still big enough that searching the whole place would take an hour, maybe two, and that was assuming that Braeburn Apple wasn’t moving himself – and that he was even here. At this time of day, as well, there were dozens of ponies out and about, going through their daily routines. Now where in tarnation was he going to start…
“Amáyuštaŋ ye!” He heard suddenly, the Buffalo words cutting through the Caballerian that everyone else was speaking in. Turning to look, he saw what had to be the smallest buffalo he’d ever laid eyes upon dash out from an ally. She was wearing a band around her head with a pair of eagle feathers in it, and glancing behind her as she ran from a pair of ponies that, if one didn’t know any better, one might think were related, what with how close their yellow coats and green eyes were to each other. One of them was older-looking and thinner, with a cutie mark of a ring of keys and a mane that was a bright orange, while the other was much younger in appearance, with a two-toned sandy mane and a cutie mark of a bright red apple. Both wore Stetsons to keep out the sun’s light, and the younger one was twirling a lariat over his head even as he galloped.
“Braeburn?” Big Mac asked curiously. Most ponies were scattering out of the way of the charging buffalo cow, but Big Mac stepped directly in front of her and braced himself. She saw him, narrowing her eyes, and put more effort into her gallop. But Big Mac was larger than her and had to have half again her weight, plus he was an earth pony…
It felt like getting hit by a freight train. Big Mac felt the air get blasted from his lungs as the buffalo cow hit him head-on, nearly bowling him over. But he redoubled his efforts, pushing himself forward. The buffalo had wanted to charge over him, but instead found herself slowing down – but not stopping, much to Big Mac’s dismay, pushing him back thirty feet or more before she changed tactics. She started wiggling to get out of his grasp, but by then Braeburn and whoever he was with had caught up, the former tossing his lariat around the buffalo and pulling her away, tipping her over.
“Consarn it, lady!” The older earth pony said as he skidded to a stop beside Braeburn, panting and wheezing as he did. “What did ya have to start runnin’ for?” The buffalo was rising again, but Braeburn was atop her, weaving his rope around her legs and body and hog-tying her with practiced skill.
“There,” Braeburn said, taking off his hat and wiping sweat from his brow. He glanced over at Big Mac. “Howdy, cuz.”
“There enough of ya?” The older pony asked, looking Big Mac up and down with no small amount of incredulousness. He had the silver star of a Royal Equestrian Marshal on his hat, with the name Fetter Keys emblazoned on it. “Ah ain’t never seen no pony strong enough to stop a buffalo once she start chargin’.”
Big Mac decided not to point out that he’d only slowed her down, not stopped her. He looked down at the buffalo cow, who was struggling against her ropes, then back to his cousin. A small crowd of Caballeros were gathering around as well, trying to listen in while also trying to avoid looking like they were doing such. “What’s goin’ on?” he asked.
“Ah dunno,” Braeburn said, nodding towards the other pony. “Ah got involved more-or-less same way you did, only ‘bout a minute or two earlier.”
“I will tell you what is going on,” the buffalo spoke up suddenly. The three ponies started, glancing down. Her Equestrian was surprisingly good, with only a faint Buffalo accent to it. “I am being treated unfairly by ponies! How does that surprise you? I came to this town looking to trade, but I was not two steps in when your law-keeper tried to arrest me!”
“Ah did no such thing!” The Fetter Keys exclaimed. “Ah just wanted to ask some questions! Tía Tarta was attacked by bandits two months back and Ah’m just lookin’ for leads, is all. Y’all came in from that direction, an’ the bandits had some buffalo. Ya might’a known somethin’!”
The buffalo’s eyes narrowed. “Because I am bison, I must know all other bison?”
Big Mac thought that the lady had a point there, and looked expectantly to Fetter Keys. He held up his hooves. “Now wait just one cotton-pickin’ minute,” he said. “Ah ain’t said nothin’ like that. Tía Tarta’s out in the Mild West. This lady here’s the first anything 'sides tumbleweeds to come in to Monte Rey from there since the post pony what carried the news. Ah woulda’ asked questions of any bein’ come that way.” He looked down to the buffalo. “Seems mighty suspicious to me that a law pony come up to you askin’ ‘bout ‘asking questions, an’ the first thing ya do is run.”
Fetter Keys had a point there, too. The buffalo had begun to open her mouth to speak again, but Big Mac held up a hoof. “Sounds to me,” he said, “that nobody’s done anythin’ wrong that we know of, an’ this was all a misunderstandin’.” Big Mac leaned down, untying the rope around her – much to her own surprise, from the looks of things. She got quickly to her hooves and backed away several steps once free, though she didn’t flee.
“If’n ya want to get technical, like,” Fetter Keys said, “fleein’ a law-pony like that is a misdemeanor.” Big Mac affixed him with a look, however, and the much smaller pony swallowed. “But Ah’ll let it slide. You just carry on your way, miss.”
The buffalo dithered a moment, considering. “King Longhorn,” she said at length. Big Mac, Braeburn, and Fetter Keys all reacted to the name, recognizing it. “That was the name of the bull who led the attack on Tía Tarta. It was he, and his gang. I heard this through my…friends.” She bristled, jabbing a hoof at Fetter Keys. “None of whom are members of his gang, and nor am I! And I know nothing else except that we bison count the days to King Longhorn’s final defeat. He is as much a scourge to my kind as he is to yours. He is wakan sica.”
“Gesundheit,” Fetter Keys said.
“A devil,” Braeburn translated. Big Mac looked to Braeburn in surprise, as did the buffalo. The other Apple stallion shrugged. “What d’ya think they speak out in the Mild West, cuz? Griffin?” He shook his head. “Old Appaloosa taught some hard lessons. One a’ them is that we gotta learn more ‘bout the bison if we’re gonna live together an make New Appaloosa work.”
“But still you hog-tie me,” the buffalo noted.
Braeburn jabbed a hoof at her. “Ah saw somebody runnin’ from the law an’ acted as anybody should. Ah don’t regret it. An’ it’s all worked out, ain’t it?”
The buffalo cow considered that a moment. “You are right.” She said. “I overreacted, and I apologize. My name is Cikala-Cante-Wasake, daughter of Siha-Waki-Ya Oyate Wikaya-Numpa. In your language, this is Little Strongheart, daughter of Thunderhooves of the Two-Feather Tribe. You may call me that.” She paused a moment. “Or just Little Strongheart. That may be faster.”
“May well be,” Braeburn said, tipping his hat. “Name’s Braeburn. This here is mah cousin, Big MacIntosh.” He waved a hoof at Fetter Keys. “An’ Ah suppose that star there means he don’t need no introduction.”
Big Mac, however, was frowning as he remembered something. “You said you’d come here to trade?” he asked, looking her over. “Trade what?”
Little Strongheart blinked a few times, then her eyes widened. “Wosiliyagle! My wares!” she exclaimed, taking off again. Fetter Keys took off after her, taking a moment to tip his hat to the two Apple stallions as he did.
Big Mac looked to Braeburn, who sighed. “That ain’t really mah fault. Ah had no earthly idea what was goin’ on.”
“Eeyup,” Big Mac noted.
“Ah still gots to go make sure she gets her stuff back safe, though.”
“Eeyup.”
Braeburn let out another long sigh as he started cantering off in the direction that Little Strongheart had galloped. “An’ me already runnin’ late. Applejack is gonna kill me…”
“Eeyup.”
---
“Padre, ¡mira!” said Tallo, pointing to the big red stallion as he cantered off, the smaller yellow one in tow. Both wore ponchos to ward off the dust of the trail, and sombreros to keep the sun from their eyes, and right now were also standing in an alley to take advantage of a building’s shade. Mazorca also carried a pair of saddlebags, which he kept checking every few minutes. “Did you see that? I have never seen a pony strong enough to stop a charging buffalo! And his friend, tied her up so she couldn’t escape…”
Mazorca couldn’t deny that. They had been following the big stallion since they’d spotted him near the train station, trying to work up the courage to talk to him. “She was very small,” he noted, keeping his voice low. He was surrounded by dozens of ponies that he did not recognize, and didn’t want to stand out.
“She was still a buffalo,” Tallo said, his own voice low for the same reasons. Buffalo, as a close cousin race to cattle, did not have the inborn connection to the land that earth ponies had and were not generally quite as strong at lifting or dragging things…but once they started moving, Mazorca had thought them impossible to stop except by putting solid stone in front of them.
“Maybe they can help?” Tallo continued. “They must know more about weapons than we do, anyway. Not that it would be hard for that to be so, since we know nothing…”
Mazorca chewed his lip a moment, then checked his saddlebags one more time. At length, he nodded. “Very well,” he said. “We will try – ”
“’Scuse me there,” A female voice said. Both stallions jumped, looking behind them and seeing an orange pony wearing a Stetson hat and a very unhappy look on her face. “Ah’m not so sure Ah like you two standin’ in a dark alley lookin’ at mah brother like that.”
---
Carrot Top and Ditzy were standing over a fallen set of saddlebags in the middle of the road. They were made from what looked like dozens or even hundreds of reeds, all woven together tightly to create a pack just as sturdy as any made from cloth. Whoever they were intended for must have been gigantic, however, given both their size and how loaded down with goods they seemed to be.
“Now who could have dropped this?” Carrot Top asked, poking at the saddlebags with one hoof. One of them had spilled open, revealing a plethora of items, mostly woven clothing in the form of ponchos and cloaks, decorated with feathers, beads, and what looked like real fur, all carefully stored.
“Rarity looking to set up a new boutique here?” Ditzy asked with a smile, closing the saddlebags and attempting to lift them up. With some help from Carrot Top, she succeeded.
“Not her style,” Carrot Top said with a smile. “Okay, so where’s the local lost-and-found – ”
“Habye!” A voice suddenly exclaimed. The two ponies jumped and skittered away from the bags, and found themselves looking at what looked like a buffalo cow, if not for how small she was. “Habye! Away from my wares!”
“We weren’t going to touch them!” Carrot Top objected, holding up her hooves. “We just found them!”
“We didn’t take anything,” Ditzy confirmed herself. “We wouldn’t have, I promise.”
The little buffalo cow eyed them and opened her mouth, probably to start accusing them, but then a red foreleg was rested on her withers. “They didn’t take nothin’,” its owner assured them. “Ah know these two.”
Carrot Top blinked a few times as she found herself staring at an unusually familiar face. “Big MacIntosh?” she asked. “What are y – ”
Her voice broke when she saw one of the ponies with Big Mac, and next to her Carrot Top was aware of Ditzy’s wings suddenly and instinctively spreading wide as she caught sight of him too. He was, in a word, gorgeous – his mane, a very similar color to Carrot Top’s own, was long and wavy about his head and neck, tucked beneath a somehow immaculate Stetson hat despite the perpetual dust that lingered on the edge of the Mild West. His fur all but shined, too, the muscles beneath it taut and tight but also supple and yielding when need be, most notably in his uncovered hindquarters, which looked immensely strong from what was probably many seasons of bucking apples from trees…
Carrot Top only came to her senses when she realized somepony was talking to her – the other pony with Big Mac, who wore a Marshal’s star in his hat that identified him as Fetter Keys. “Huh?” she asked, shaking her head. She nudged Ditzy to break her out of her own trance. “S-sorry, what?”
“Ah was thankin’ y’all for lookin’ after Miss Little Strongheart’s stuff,” he said. He glanced between the two mares, the two Apple stallions, and back again. “But Ah’m startin’ t’ feel a mite hurt now.”
Ditzy blinked rapidly a few times at that, then stepped forward. “Sorry!” she apologized. She pointed to Big Mac. “W-we just know Big MacIntosh here from Ponyville, where we’re from. We weren’t expecting to see him here. It was a surprise, is all.”
“Uh-huh,” Fetter Keys said, not sounding convinced at all. “Right, Ah am officially done, then. Y’all have a nice day.”
Little Strongheart, evidently the name of the buffalo cow, watched him go, then looked back to the ponies. “I too must leave,” she said. She breathed in deeply, then out again, looking to Big MacIntosh. “I…owe you one, I believe is the Equestrian saying. For helping me with the law-pony. Thank you. Taŋyáŋ ománi pe.” With that, she left as well, heading for the town’s trading post.
Carrot Top looked back to Big Mac, unsure of what to say next and fighting hard to keep her eyes from drifting to the other pony. “Um…” she said, glancing to him anyway. “Are you going to introduce us?”
The other pony stepped forward at that. “That’s mah bad,” he said, taking off his hat and shaking his mane a little. He had to know the effect that had on the two mares. That didn’t mean Carrot Top wanted him to stop, though. “Mah name’s Braeburn Apple. Big Mac here is mah cousin.”
Carrot Top looked between the two ponies. She could see a little family resemblance, and Braeburn definitely looked like he might have had some relation to Applejack – a thought that the mare wasn’t sure she liked having given some of the other thoughts that had been bouncing around in her head earlier.
Ditzy stepped forward then, apparently having a somewhat easier time of keeping her mind in check, though her wings were fidgeting fiercely and her tail was flicking just as much as Carrot Top’s own. “My name’s Ditzy Doo,” she said, and indicated her friend, “and this is Carrot Top.”
Braeburn’s eyes widened at that. “The Elements a’ Harmony?” he asked, looking at their necks and noticing the gilt jewelry that hung there for the first time. “Shoot! Y’all are them, ain’t ya?”
Carrot Top nodded, feeling a little embarrassed as she glanced down at the ground, pawing the dirt a little. “I mean, yeah…sort of…it’s just sort of a thing…”
“Well Ah’ll be,” Braeburn continued, looking up to Big Mac. “How’s it that you never told me you knew the heroes of Equestria, cuz?” He looked back to the two of them. “Now Ah have to insist y’all come with me to the saloon. Ah wanna get back to New Appaloosa and say Ah had a drink with the Elements a’ Harmony!”
“Eenope,” Big Mac interjected. Braeburn looked at him – and Carrot Top all but glared – as did, she noted with more than a little dismay, Ditzy – but Big Mac took it all in and remained resolute. “We gotta get back to mah sis.”
That soured Carrot Top’s mood. Sure, she’d become friends with Applejack, somehow, maybe. It was complicated. And sure, she was over her inferiority complex. Mostly. But somehow, Applejack was still coming in between what she wanted even though Carrot Top was trying so hard to not get jealous! And she was pretty sure that was making her more jealous…
Wait, who said anything about wanting Braeburn? No, she just wanted to share a drink with this fine stallion, maybe, and…and, maybe she was panicking over nothing. Maybe Applejack wasn’t getting in her way. Big Mac had two sisters, after all. Maybe he was referring to Applebloom! And that would make sense, Applebloom was only a filly. Wherever Big Mac had left her, he wouldn’t want to leave her alone for long. She couldn’t begrudge the red Apple stallion's responsibility like that…
“W-well,” Carrot Top ventured, “we could come with you! Maybe get a drink afterwards. Me and Ditzy don’t have any real plans…and it would be nice to talk to some Ponyvillians after spending so much time away from home.” She put extra emphasis on nice to make it clear how nice it would be, even if Applejack turned out to be there instead of Applebloom.
Ditzy and Big Mac both eyed her strangely, but Braeburn didn’t seem to notice. “Sounds like a plan to me,” Braeburn said. “C’mon, let’s get goin’ back t’ the station.”
---
Applejack listened to the two Caballeros while she lugged Bloomberg over to the water tower. She wasn’t quite as strong as her big brother, but with a little effort she could still move the tree around as long as he was on his cart.
“…so, señorita Applejack, you see our plight,” said the younger one, Tallo de Maíz. “Please, a pony as large and strong as your brother must be able to help us, show us what weapons to buy. He is a trained fighter, mi padre and I can tell.”
Applejack reached the water tower, positioning Bloomberg’s roots beneath its funnel, then trotted over to the young filly who was tending it and hoofed over ten pesos. She put them in a drawer and nodded back to Applejack, who tipped her hat to the filly and then went over to the tower’s pump. “Y’all would have a better time a’ things hirin’ ponies rather than buyin’ weapons that y’all don’t know how t’ use,” she said as she looked over the hoof-powered pump. She set her hoof down on it and got to work, and after a few moments a shower of water started falling from the tower and down onto Bloomberg. “An’ mah brother ain’t a trained fighter, not fer what yer after, anyway. He’s just a big n’ healthy pony, is all.”
Applejack grimaced a little at that even as she said it. It wasn’t quite the truth. In fact Big Mac had won several wrestling and hoof-boxing matches in his day, and of course he had on occasion done some bounty hunter work – a job that did not and never would sit well with his little sister. But these ponies here weren’t looking merely for a fighter. They wanted somepony who could lead the defense of an entire village against a band of thirty bandits. Big Mac had never done anything like that before as far as Applejack was aware – and if he had, and hadn’t told her, then Applejack was going to have some very pointed words to say to him.
The two Caballero ponies looked between each other. “Señorita, ¡le suplico!” the older one, Mazorca de Maíz, exclaimed as he stepped forward. He slung his saddlebags from his back and held them out to Applejack. “Please, this is everything my village has! Everything! We must find aid somehow. If we must buy defenders instead of weapons, we will! How much for your brother’s help? For yours?”
“Whoa, hold on!” Applejack exclaimed, stopping her pumping of water and holding off her hooves, warding off Mazorca shoving a bag of pesos into her hooves. “Ain’t this a job for the Rurales anyhow?”
The Rurales were Caballeria’s range police force. They were supposed to be cutting down on the banditry that plagued Caballeria, but evidently they were not doing as good a job as they should have. Mazorca’s grimace confirmed that as Tallo stepped forward. “Sí, señorita Applejack, it would be. But the Rurales are spread thin on the border. Equestria helps with Marshals as well, but they, too, are few, and the Mild West is so large, and so little of it truly claimed. The policía are focused on the coasts, where trade and commerce happens. We are deep inland. The Rurales will not come in time – we do not know when King Longhorn might return, but it will be soon.”
Applejack blinked a few times, resuming pumping water onto Bloomberg as she struggled not to let what the two Caballeros were saying get to her. It was a losing battle, of course. These ponies were decent, hard-working folk being terrorized by a band of thugs. There was no way the orange pony could just let that slide, or pass it off as ‘not her problem’, not now that they had come to her. Not without making at least some effort on their behalf to help them.
“Okay, look,” she said. “Mah brother’ll be back soon. Y’all can talk to him then, he might have some advice. But I ain’t makin’ no promises, y'hear? An’ Ah’m not gonna let mah brother just go off into the Mild West to fight thirty bandits neither, not even if yer whole town is helpin’. Y’all are green at fightin’, said so yerself. He might as well be on his lonesome.” Applejack took off her hat and ran a hoof through her mane, scratching the scalp beneath in thought. “He’d need, like, six other experienced ponies to help, at least. Yer village got no real high ground or nothin’, right? Open on all four sides?” At a confirming nod, Applejack gave one of her own, putting her hat back on. “Then yeah. Seven ponies. One for each direction, two in the center to go where they was needed in case things wen bad, and one to coordinate.”
Applejack considered what she was saying, and rolled her eyes at her own words as she finished pumping water into Bloomberg’s roots. “Mind, with odds like yer sayin’, they’d have to be a mighty magnificent seven…”