//------------------------------//
// Chapter 6 - At the Root 
// Story: Sensation - Appleloosa 
// by Vivid Syntax 
//------------------------------//


==X===X===X===X===X==


A glass squeaks as Handlebar cleans it with a half-soaked rag. 

Braeburn slumps onto the bar. I sip at my nearly-empty sarsaparilla. 

Give him a moment.

"Ya'…" Braeburn looks up at the rows of alcohol. "Ya' ever think…" 

Squeak. Squeak.

I set the glass down. "Yes. All too frequently, I believe." 

"Heh." Braeburn shrugs. "Always feels like brains are betraying you. Know what I mean?" He turns his head to face me. "When your mind races, you just want it to calm down, and when you're left with the silence and all your troubling thoughts, you'd beg for any kind of noise to take it away."


==X===X===X===X===X==


The sun crested over the arugula on the neighbor's farm, just like it did when I was a colt. I lay on the couch downstairs at my parents' house, watching the sunlight creep down the wall. Slowly. Inevitably, until it hit the back of my head and cast a weary-looking shadow against the wall.

My head weighed down on the foreleg rest. My neck was stiff as a board. I figured I must’ve slept at least a little, but I couldn't be sure, and the only thoughts in my head were echoes of the things I'd told myself a thousand times that night.

The floorboards upstairs creaked. My parents stepped lightly, going about their usual routine, but they chatted. They chatted a lot. It seemed like they were spending an awfully long time with the door closed. 

Truth be told, I thought about running. The whole night, I'd wanted to just up and leave – sleep at the train station and get out as soon as I could. I told myself it was still an option, but fight or not, that's not how my parents raised me.

And anyway, their door opened. Ma walked down the steps with a big smile plastered on her face like a filly had drawn it. "Morning, Braeby. Have you been up long?" You ever cracked a wine glass? It looks like it has just enough integrity to hold water, but you know that the slightest touch could leave you sopping wet.

I sucked in a big breath and sat halfway up. My neck spasmed, and I set my head back down. "Didn't really sleep much, if I'm honest."

There weren't any birds, or at least I couldn't hear any. It struck me, like all the joy in the world had left for a vacation.

Ma came down and frowned dramatically. "Braeby, you look like you haven't slept at all." She walked over and brushed my mane out of my face, and I kept myself from sneering. Maybe I was just too tired to react. "I told you, growing stallions need their sleep."

Bracing myself for my bones to fight me, I sat up looked at her. Ma hadn't slept, either. Her mane was all out of sorts. It was the kind of thing she’d say was shameful on any other day.

Pa walked out of the bedroom upstairs. I just caught his hooves before he walked into the bathroom. Even that little glimpse nearly made me jump behind the couch.

Ma put her hoof on my shoulder. "I just want to say one thing, and then I'll drop it." 

'I don't want to drop it,' I thought. 'I want to talk about it, but neither of you will even face it. Don't you know hard this was?' I mumbled, "Alright."

She hugged me close and said, "We're not mad. It's going to take time to get used to it, but we don't want you to beat yourself up. Everything's already forgiven."

Forgiven. That's what sealed it for me, I think. I realized then how ill-prepared they were, how much I'd truly blind-sighted them with something that I figured would have been obvious. 

"We love you, Braeby."

I hugged her weakly back. "Love you, too, Ma." For the first time in my life, I wasn't sure if I really meant it.

Pa came downstairs just then. "Mornin'," he said with the raspy tone of a hungover bear. "Glad you're still here. Didn't think you would be."

"I don't run from my problems, Pa." I hadn't meant it to sting like a scorpion, but I didn't have much kindness left in me.

Pa snorted. "Don't you start with me–"

"Cortland," Ma snapped. "None of that."

He stood up straight and went to grab his cigar. "Yes, dear."

Ma pursed her lips at him, then looked back to me with artificial cheeriness. "I'll make some breakfast."

We didn't speak much over the food. Just a few comments about the neighbors. I mostly asked questions about things I didn't care about, like the state of the old fence, how the neighbors’ chickens were doing… It was all window dressing to fill up space and keep the light from striking anything unpleasant.

We wrapped up breakfast, and all of us stared out the window to the porch. We were silent as the dead. 

Looking back, I don't think I blame them. They weren't any more prepared than I was. Hell, they were so much less so. They hadn't thought about it for a decade.

"Well," I said after a few long moments. "Suppose I'd better hit the road."

My ear swiveled towards them. I wanted them to ask if I was really leaving already. There were supposed to say, "Aw, no! You just got here. Can't you stay for another day or two?"

Ma looked at Pa. Pa shrugged and said, "Well, if you think that's best, I won't stop you."

I… didn't think it was best. I kicked myself for even bringing the idea up. And yet, what was I supposed to do? Cave and beg them to let me stay? I'd already committed to it, and my brain reeled with the game of chess I suddenly found myself playing.

Finally, I just said, "Thank you for having me," and I stood up from the table. I didn't offer to help with the dishes. Instead, I walked to the door, grabbed my bag, and reached for the handle.

Ma spoke up and walked over. "Will we see you at Hearth's Warming?" Her voice whined in the way she'd always scolded me for.

I paused, worried I was pausing too long, and just said what came to mind. "...Yeah." 

The room was still behind me. I looked over my shoulder at Pa. He frowned at me, like he was wrestling with himself, but he didn't say a word. 

With a sigh, I thanked them again. Ma said, "Love you, Braeby."

And without looking, I mumbled, "Love you, too."

I looked to Pa. He was still there, frowning and glancing at the mantle. He didn't say anything, and, well, stubbornness runs in the family, I think.

As I shut the door behind me, I finally heard Pa shout a weak, "Love you, son."

I could have stopped the door and said something back to him. And I'm ashamed to say, I didn't.

The train ride back home – back to my real home, as far as I was concerned – was long and not particularly interesting. Of course, nothing was particularly interesting to me at that time. Everything was just gray, and so was the long, long walk back through the desert. The train got delayed by some malfunction, which left me about four hours of daylight to make a full day's trip, and that's already at a decent clip. 

I camped out that night. Didn't feel like cooking anything, so I just nibbled on a few snacks that I had leftover in my pack. Without the threat of rain, I unrolled my sleeping bag onto the ground and made a small fire. There are coyotes out in the desert, of course, and I heard a few of them howling a long distance away. A few, uh… A few dark thoughts crept into my mind, but if there's one thing the wilderness it good for, it's letting all those feelings drift into space as you look up at the stars.

Sunrise woke me up to smoldering embers. Wordlessly, I packed up and marched home, weighed down by the fact that I'd slept better out in the middle of nowhere than in the house where I'd grown up.

Flint, Dawn Light, and Copperline were on shift back in town, since Springleaf had to go back early on account of a short-notice wedding. It was a skeleton crew, but there were a lot of small projects that weren't too dangerous: building benches, sealing roofs, and making bed frames, which they were in the middle of when I arrived at around dusk. They greeted me with a warm welcome, but Flint's face turned ghostly pale after I said hello without any color in my voice. Dawn Light was the first to ask, "Everything okay, Braeburn? Did you miss the train?"

I cleared my throat and looked to Flint, who stood there with a dumbfounded look on his face and a hoof over his heart. Ma had always told me to laugh through life, and I suppose I wanted to cling to the old vision of them, the one from before that weekend. With a small laugh, I said, "Eh, you know me. I tend to let my mouth run off." I nodded at the bed frame. "Could use a nice place to sleep and somethin' to take my mind off it, though. Alright if I pitch in a bit?" 

You can only have so many hooves on a project like that, so Copperline took to making supper. He's a wizard with stews, and the smell of it carried us past sundown. The whole time, my friends didn't ask what I was upset about, which I appreciated immensely. 

I finally told them about the talk over dinner. Copperline and Dawn Light were slack-jawed at how my parents had reacted, and Flint moped.

Dawn cast him a side eye. She poked his side and said, "Now, what're you so dour about?"

Flint chortled. "Heh. Braeburn is neglecting to mention that it's my fault. I'm the one that put him up to it." He looked up and shook his head at me. "I'm mighty sorry, Braeburn. I know words don't help, but truly, I would switch places with you in a moment if'n I could."

I sighed and set my spoon into my half-empty bowl of stew. "Ya' wouldn't think so, but the words do help, Flint." Looking around at the ragtag group of us, I felt like a baby bird piercing through his eggshell. The world had seemed so small before, and in some ways, I was looking for a new family to imprint onto. I'm damn lucky they were such good ones. "I'll be okay. I got all the family I need right here."

Copperline snickered. "Course, if we're family, you should probably stop trying to get into Flint's drawers before folks start talkin'." 

"Ha!" I laughed along with the others. "Careful, Copper. I might cotton to that kind of humor, but he certainly won't."

"Who won’t?"

And that's when Flint tackled him to the ground. They wrestled each other, laughing all the way. Copperline fought the good fight, but Flint got him in a headlock and shouted, "Who's the li'l bitch now, eh, Copper? Ha!"

Copper slapped the ground and choked out, "I am! I am!" 

With a smug smirk, Flint got off him, and we finished our supper, swapping stories about the stresses of family life and fights and all the freedom we got out here in the wilderness.

I'm a very lucky pony to have found them all. Even though most of them moved away, I cherish the times I had with them as some of the most valuable of my life. I don't think I ever grew as much as I did in those first couple years with the Appleloosans.

We plugged away at chores and tasks for months, and by the week of Hearth's Warming, we had both houses in the town fully furnished. We all slept in the same building, of course, partly for warmth and the rest for company, but it was nice knowing there was an escape if we needed it. Plus, it was a great place to lock up all our gear when we headed home for the holidays. We weren't too worried about thieves because, well, if somepony was desperate enough to march all the way out there and steal our supplies, we figured they needed it more than us.

Hearth's Warming at home was… well, oddly, it was normal.

Well, no. Not quite.

What's normal, really? The three of us were together, and we swapped gifts – the ones from me were mostly hoof-made – and we had a big meal and… 

…

And, every twenty minutes or so, I'd feel a nagging at the back of my skull telling me to bring it up again. From the rigid way Ma kept fiddling with the stockings and Pa’s compulsive smoking, I think they were feeling it, too.

It didn't really let up, even on the train ride out to Ponyville a week later. I purposely sat across the aisle from my parents in the window seat, and no matter how quietly they tried to whisper, I could hear my Pa ask Ma over and over if they should say something. 

I should explain. See, we have a tradition to take the ride out to Ponyville over the New Year. It's been our custom ever since my Pa's brother Uncle Bright and his wife Auntie Butter passed, so we can keep the cousins company. Big Mac and Applejack are old enough to handle it, of course, but Apple Bloom still really appreciates it, I think. I do, too. It's, uh… It's nice for some things to be stable.

The Ponyville Apples sure know how to do up a place nice. There must have been a mile of garland trimming the walls, and there were paper snowflakes far as the eye could see. You could tell that little Bloom had hung them up, because they only came to shoulder height on the rest of us. Their house was supposedly a little drafty, but with seven ponies in a five-pony house, it was plenty cozy and warm. 

I remember Granny was the first to catch on to the sour feeling in the air. She said to Pa, one night after Bloom had gone to bed, "So what's with all the tension? Y'all are wound up tighter'n a dog leash 'round a pole."

"Ain't nothin', Ma," Pa said without looking up from his paper.

"Don't you lie to me, colt!" She rocked forward in her chair and glared. "I ain't too old to tan yer hide, and don'tcha forget it!" 

Granny's stink-eye can break down a brick wall, and Ma– sorry, I should use their names, shouldn't I? To avoid confusion. My Ma Gala stopped knitting her blanket and knit her eyebrows instead while she stared at Cortland.

Cort cleared his throat and spoke firmly. "It's been a strange year." He nodded at me. "Braeburn striking out on his own has led to a few disagreements. But we love him." If he'd been any more wooden, we could've used him to raise a barn. "We'll all get over it sooner or later."

My hackles raised, and I wanted to bark at him. Granny glanced at me, too. "Eh, don't get your vest in a twist, Braeburn. You're a young hothead, just like every stallion in this family. I know the grown-ups seem like a lot of simple fools, but this ain't our first time 'round the block."

Granny's words got me to cool off, if only in deference to authority, but I felt my legs tense up like I could spring at any moment.

Applejack spoke up next. "What's got you all riled up, Braeburn? You can tell us." She smiled broadly. "We're family!"

You wanna know one of the weirdest things? Just that year, Applejack had become the Element of Honesty, and for months and months after that, nopony wanted to talk to her about anything. I think a lot of us were afraid we'd get exposed for all the lies we'd ever told or something. In retrospect, it must have been pretty lonely for her. 

"Cousin, I appreciate it," I said with a sigh. "And you're right. We're family." I knew I couldn't lie to her – earth ponies always know when you do – so I had to get a little creative with the truth. "Pa's right, though. It's hard on all of us with me bein' out of the house and makin' my own decisions. Foundin' a town ain't easy, especially with only a dozen of us or so." The more I talked, the more I missed Appleloosa, and the more I thought about the family I had back there.

"Well, if you need help, y' shoulda asked!" She hopped up and walked over. "Why, I bet I could help you plan out everything you need while you're here this weekend!"

Gala laughed. "Hm-hm! Applejack, we really appreciate the help, but there's only a day left in the year. No need to focus on work."

"Aw, ain't no harm in thinkin' out loud, Auntie Gal." Applejack turned back to me. "And Braeburn's the most motivated pony I know. I'm sure he's just burstin' to get back there and get to work."

'If only you knew,' I thought to myself. I looked over to the couch where Applejack had been sitting, and Big Mac looked up from his paper at me. He smiled and just nodded in the way that always reminded me of Jonah, my older brother who died of carmine fever when I was little. That got me to finally breathe a little easier, and I said to Applejack, sincerely, "Thanks, cousin. I'd like that."

We headed off to her room to draw up plans for the orchard. She also mentioned she'd put in a good word for me with Twilight Sparkle, and maybe Princess Celestia could help us out, too. I thanked her for the offer, but I let her know that if I was going to found a town, I wanted to do it on my own and not riding somepony else's coattails.

"Now, don't be stubborn, Braeburn," she said.

"I ain't tryin’ to be stubborn, but this is…" I sighed. "It's important to me to have a space that I make for myself. I imagine you'll understand if you decide to move out someday."

She just shook her head. "Can't imagine why I'd want to do that anytime soon, but point taken. Now, about the orchard…" She was back into it, lickity split, and she offered up a tree from their orchard to help us get started. "His name's Bloomberg, and I'd be happy to bring him out there once the train gets constructed. Any plans for that, by the way?"

"Actually, I'm working on a draft proposal right now." It was true. I'd needed something to keep my mind occupied when we weren't working, and taking care of the paperwork ended up being a good way to do it. I guess I started and just never stopped.

"Darn tootin'! I'm sure it'll be a big success, Braeburn."

Applejack and I worked on half a dozen different little projects. Mostly I explained to her about problems we were having, and she helped trouble-shoot them. She’s nothing if not a hard worker, and I’m eternally grateful to her for everything she’s done for Ponyville and for me. But, well… I didn’t tell her. There’s some things that you just need to talk to another stallion about, right?

I was tossing around in my cot, probably around midnight or so. Like every year, I was set up in Big Mac’s room. I knew he was awake, and he knew I knew he was awake. Call it a family connection or whatever you like. But Big Mac wasn’t one to drag something out of other ponies. He just left the door open, ready for you to walk in.

Despite the chill in the air, I was sweating. My mane was plastered to my forehead. I sighed and groaned, “You up, Mac?”

From his bed, I heard a soft, “Eeyup.”

I took a few more breaths of the cold night air. Their house always smelled like my parents’, with just a little more carrot and a little less arugula on the back end. The quilt on top of me was heavy, just like the ones I’d grown up with, all made by Granny over the years. A little moonlight peeked in through the curtains. It was just enough to keep yourself from bumping into a table. The pillow under me was wet, and my muscles buzzed, like I was desperate to run. 

Big Mac gave me time. 

Finally, I sat up, and he did the same. My shoulders sagged, and I swallowed a lump. “You, uh… You’ve probably realized that things feel different this time around.”

Big Mac paused. “...Eeyup.”

“And, well… You ain’t wrong. It’s…” I wanted to say that things had been tense. The words felt heavy and died in my mouth. I scraped my brain for more, but my lungs felt like they’d collapsed in on themselves.

“Take your time.” He nodded slowly.

The thing about being queer is that you never stop having to come out. It gets easier with time, and the world is getting better every day, but there’s still that hurdle to jump over with every single pony you meet. Every. Single. One. You need to make the decision whether they can be trusted, whether this time is right, how they’re going to react and what you should be prepared for. It’s all this math in your head, all the time, and it’s exhausting. Doubly so when you need to do it a lot with a lot of high-stakes conversations.

But I suppose Big Mac already knew, in some ways. I’d made reference to “those types of ponies” when we were younger, back when we were supposed to start chasing mares. He’d asked me then if I liked something else instead, and at the time, I’d told him that wouldn’t it be crazy if I did? He’d said it wouldn’t be crazy, and he’d given me a big hug.

So I told myself, I already had one hoof in the door, and the other three just had to follow. I sat up, and I whispered, “I’m gay, Cousin Mac.”

He nodded, then said, “Say it again?”

I snorted and felt liked I’d taken a hoof to the chest. “Mac, you’re killin’ me. It’s a damn hard thing to say, and I know we gotta be quiet, and thank you for that–” I felt myself getting wound up, and Mac put up a hoof to let remind me how thin the walls were. “–but you really needed to pick this moment, right now, to go hard of hearing?” He didn’t respond, so I growled, “Really?”

Slowly, calmly, he said, “Say it again.”

“Why?” I snapped.

He didn’t waver. “Say it again.” 

My throat tightened up. Tears welled up in my eyes. “Mac, I…” I looked at him. Just a little light reflected off his big, glassy eyeballs, and I could see him staring right at me. No judgment, not even concern. Just something warm, and he was making a space for me, like he always did. The words finally came back to me. “I’m gay, Mac.” They didn’t stop there. “I’m a homosexual. Don’t even care about mares at all. I’ve lusted after other stallions and dreamed about doing all sorts of things with them, and I want to find one that’s right for me and lead a happy life and feel his body on mine, and… and I’m gay. I’m pansy-sniffin’, colt-cuddlin’, dick-lovin’ gay, Mac.” My body felt like a deflated balloon.

Mac slowly stood up from a creaking bed, calmly walked over to me, and wrapped me up in a big hug. “You had it in you to tell me twice.” He squeezed harder. “So you’ve got it in you to speak with Uncle Cort and Auntie Gal again, too. And you can tell the whole world when you’re ready, and your family will still be here for you. Ain’t no stoppin’ you, Braeburn.”

A wave of relief rolled down my back, and I sank into his hug. “Thanks, cousin.”

We stayed up for over an hour, I bet. I told him about Flint and what I’d been feeling, and he listened. When I struggled, he took over and told me about the kinds of dream he’d been having about a few mares in town, the kind of dreams that I won’t repeat here for his privacy. But he did it for me. Even if we were attracted to different kind of ponies, it gave me something to anchor to, made me feel normal, if only for a few minutes at a time. 

Mac was encouraging, and I came to him a few times again during that visit, just to check in and talk privately. He was all for me telling everyone and getting it over with, but, well… I wasn’t there yet. I told him I needed time, and I wanted to have a real coltfriend and get that experience before I told anypony. He understood, and he offered an ear whenever I needed it.

The rest of our trip felt warmer after that. Not like Hearth’s Warming celebrations in years past, but close enough that I could unwind over a spicy, boozy drink with the family and have a real conversation, and by the time we headed our separate ways, I felt stable and ready to get back to work.

And I suppose… Time just went on.

That spring, another six ponies showed up in Appleloosa, all ones that the others had convinced to come out our way. The town officially had its second wave of settlers, and buildings went up faster and faster. More ponies came to help with planting, and by summer we had a real town, complete with a sheriff and a schoolteacher for the three foals that we had. Of course, it wasn't many years before he had his hooves full.

Applejack and her friends visited us late that summer, right after the train tracks were finished. She delivered a big ol' tree she'd named Bloomberg. She was the first in my family to come see the town, and they even helped us settle an issue with the local buffalo herds. Though, uh… not without some difficulty.

But I kept myself busy. Busier and busier all the time, either writing proposals, putting together events, trying to make other ponies feel welcome, and constructing more houses for our growing numbers. The work had a nice rhythm to it. The sun became a heartbeat. It rose and fell, and by the end of the day I’d make a new friend or get further on some project. That whole time is a blur. I like to think I was happy. Maybe I was just lost in my work. I don’t know. But I was caught off guard when the apple harvest started up in the fall, and that took up all my time for a few months. Autumn rolled into winter, faster than I could turn around, and this time, we didn’t need to worry about shifts. There were plenty of ponies that could keep the town running while a bunch of us went home.

Hearth's Warming that year went the same way. My parents talked about how proud they were that Appleloosa was growing, but… that same feeling was there, like a loud, sour note you just barely can't hear.

The seasons rolled on. Big Mac visited me a few times that year, and every time, I'd feel like I was spending the whole time complaining to him. He's a good listener, but I can't help but think I drove him to his limit.

Appleloosa really started coming into its own, too. Our farm grant was approved, and the crops came in better than we could have imagined. 

There were sad days, too. Flint moved away that summer, a little over two years after I'd first met him. His ex-fiance has said she wanted to patch things up with him, and he was willing to give her another chance. Sadly, she hadn't changed much, but Flint ended up meeting a nice mare that wanted to settle down with him outside Ponyville. 

Something broke in me when I got the letter from him about his new engagement. I'd never really let go of those fantasies of being with him, even if I knew it would never happen. But after a few weeks and a lot of whisky, I felt a little more free, and, well, I started dating.

There weren't many options, of course. Appleloosa was still in the dozens, and the first other gay stallion to move into town came that fall. Roughshod. A beast of a stallion, and while we weren't really each other's types – I was too energetic for him, and he was too lazy for me – it was nice to have somepony to talk to. And don't think too ill of me, but I'd missed having another soul to relieve my urges with. Truth be told, I might have been too eager for him. We only barely lasted three months, but part of that was how much he missed city living. At least, that's what I tell myself.

Hearth's Warming came around again, and again, we took the trip to Ponyville. I remember it striking me at my parents' doorstep that I hadn't seen them in a year. I'd barely noticed. The holiday passed as normally as one could expect, with polite conversation and no mention of my personal life beyond the building of the town. 

The more I think about it, the more I realize how much the town was becoming my identity in those days. It was the one part of my life I could share openly, without worrying what they'd say. Maybe it's a part of growing up, but I felt like my connection to my old home was growing weaker and weaker by the month. It's supposed to be that way, I think, at least a little. Maybe. I dunno. I liked growing on my own, and in the end, the space did me good.

But I needed companionship, just like everypony else. Appleloosa continued to thrive and grow, and we hit the hundred pony mark that year. Slate and his wife and young filly moved in that year, along with Pridesong and Hasty Haberdasher, the mare that now owns our prized hat shop. The tourism industry I helped set up certainly didn't hurt with the recruitment, I think. 

Feh. Not for lack of trying on my part, though.

Sorry. I don't mean to be hard on myself, but in those days, I was more riled up than a dog in heat. I'd fallen into the job of giving tours on top of everything else, partly because I was always eager to volunteer, and I was something of a perfect fit. See, one benefit of being a queer is that nopony is threatened by you. Everypony's expecting some rough and tumble, grizzled cowpony to steal their mare or tempt them away from their stallions, but most folks can tell right away that it ain't happening.

And that means the ones that swing your way can spot you from a mile away.

It's terrible, I know, but I can't tell you the names of all the ponies that shared my bed that year. Probably couldn't even count them. For a while, it wasn't even about companionship – it was about proving I could do whatever I wanted. Almost like a power trip, I'd say – I'd had to hide for so many years, and I was finally claiming what I wanted for myself.

Course, drink anything long enough, and you'll find it doesn't satisfy. By late spring, I started trying to convince every other stallion I slept with to come visit again. A few did, once or twice, and I even managed a long-distance relationship with Roughshod again for a few more months. But as soon as those all fell apart, I'd be back in reality, managing a town full of ponies that were beginning more and more to wonder if everything they'd ever heard about gays was true.

Pridesong was the first to confront me, the day after the solstice. He marched into the jailhouse, where that public desk was in those days, right as I was finishing up a letter to Canterlot. I greeted him warmly, even though I knew he meant business. "Mornin', Pride. Fine day for a stroll."

He stood tall and stared me down. Walked right up to the desk without blinking. 

"Can I, uh… help you?"

He let out a rough sigh. "Braeburn, you gotta stop with all the stallions."

I paused, and I swallowed, and I tried to casually fold up the paper I'd written. "Pride, my business is my own." I cleared my throat. I was half expecting him to interrupt, but he waited patiently. "I don't see you begrudging any of the young colts gettin' head over hooves for the fillies." 

Pridesong snorted. "That ain't why I'm here, Braeburn, and you know it." He sat up straighter and lowered his voice, just like so many of the straights do when they talk to you about your sex life. Like they're so damn insecure that they gotta reestablish their stallionhood or some damn nonsense.

Sorry, I shouldn't generalize. I just… Hmph. I've had a lot of these conversations over the years, and after all the shit I've been through, I get to rag on the straights a little, too, right?

He said, "I got no problem with which way you swing–"

"Bullshit." I stared him in the eyes from under the brim of my hat. 

"Fine," he grumbled. "But I can get past it. I will, one of these days, and I don't complain about that." He set a hoof on the desk. "What I will complain about is your promiscuity. What kind of example you settin' for the foals around here? Seein' somepony big in the community treatin' others like used hankies?"

My lips felt stiff. "Pride, do you have any idea how hard it is out here to meet somepony? If I'm 'promiscuous,' it's because I ain't got the luxury of spending a lot of time before they move on! What, you expect me to ask them out to a nice dinner, buy them flowers from Celestia-knows-where, and let everything unfold over a bunch of months? When the hell does that happen?"

"So ya' learn to deal with it!" He flicked a hoof in the air. "Braeburn, one bachelor to another, I'm sympathetic. Really, I am. You think I don't feel that itch, same as you? But Celestia's name, Braeburn, you haven't met a dick you wouldn't bend over for, and folks are talkin', and I don't know if I wanna raise a family in a place run by… by that."

"By what," I growled. I almost hit him back about that "raising a family" bit and how he wasn't even close, but my mind was reeling. "Maybe you can't handle–"

"Braeburn!" His shoulders sank. "Braeburn, I take no joy in tellin' you this, but folks are callin' you a damn whore." 

That… That shut me up right quick.

"And frankly, I'm having trouble not agreein' with 'em. You do a lot for this town. I get it, but holy hell, you still gotta maintain an image for the rest of us."

I let a rattling breath. "I don't owe you my sexuality, Pride."

"Braeburn." His eyes were sad. "You've got a reputation, and it ain't a good one. You know what one of the tourists said to me?" He frowned, deeper, and he hesitated. "I was at the Salt Block, and I tried to give this guy a warm welcome, and he was laughing and asked, 'Where's that whore y'all got out here? I don't go for stallions much, but a warm body's a warm body, right?' Right to my face! What the hell am I supposed to say to that?"

I was… stunned. So stunned that we parted with little more than a blush from Pridesong.

It wasn't supposed to be like that. I was reclaiming my sexuality. I was living free. I had picked myself up and brushed off the dirt, and I was starting to explore who I really was. 

But that’s not what my new family saw. They saw a floozy, a harlot that was tearing down their way of life faster than he could raise buildings. I was a workhorse in every sense, but the more I worked, the further my little hideaway felt.

I’d helped build Appleloosa from the very first days. It was meant to be my refuge, a place I could grow into my own and finally feel free. But with each new pony that arrived, with each new set of eyes on me, it felt less and less like mine. It was theirs, a space that I was allowed to be in, where I was tolerated, but only just. I was on the outside again, even in the community whose heart I’d crafted myself.

The desert had never felt so barren.

After that, I spent weeks looking over my shoulder, always trying to eavesdrop on the whispered conversations as I walked down Mane Street. I’d catch a few words, and none of them were pleasant. So, eventually, I didn’t walk around as much. I’d contribute in whatever way I could, then go home for the evening to sulk. I’d settled into a house at the edge of town, and I rarely got bothered.

I still gave the tours, though, and I’m proud to say that I stayed upbeat for the guests. They still had a good time, and I loved seeing them, even if I felt the weight of the town on me every time a handsome stallion showed up. I didn’t pursue them anymore. Feeling the constant judgment of dozens of ponies does a good job killing the mood. Those tours all blended together, all except one.

It was a small group. They’d come the last weekend in August, when it was too damn hot, even at night. I was shocked any of them wanted to travel, and all but one of them looked like they were melting from the second they got off the train. 

He was a beast of a pony. Built like a farmer or an industrial worker, and with a sheen to his coat that sparkled like a mirage. He was statue-like, chiseled and still, with a square jaw that I desperately wanted to feel on my face. The way he stood – solid on all four hooves, head held high – was unusual for a pegasus. It gave him a kind of power, like he was surveying a new kingdom for himself with just the slightest movement of his eyes. He smiled like Pa used to when he looked over the fields after a harvest, as if he was drinking in a year’s worth of work. But this stranger wasn’t looking around at all. He was looking directly at me.  

My heart jumped to my throat, and then that cold shame pressed down on my shoulders. So, I did what I’d learned to do and averted my gaze. I knew what I was in for if I started ogling him, and like a coward, I hid from my feelings.

But he wouldn’t have any of that. He puffed out his chest and stretched his wings as he marched straight up to me. I started with my usual greeting, a hearty “Welcome to Aaaaaapple–!”

And he interrupted me with a long whistle. “Well, isn’t that exceptional.” His low, powerful, smooth voice made me quiver, like he was massaging me with sound. He stepped up close, and since he was nearly a head taller than me, I got a good look and a beautiful whiff of that gorgeous, muscled chest.

I stuttered and said, “It’s, uh, quite a town! None like it.”

“Oh, I haven’t even looked at the town yet, cutie.” He stood up straighter. He could tell I was looking at his chest. “You’re the exception.”

Sweat poured down my face, but I still felt a chill gripping my heart. “E-exception to what?” I finally looked up. It was like his eyes had captured the sun, and it began to warm me from the inside out.

“If I might be so forward…” He reached down and took my hoof in his, and I swear, if there’d been a breeze that day, I’d have been swept away. “I’ve always thought that love at first sight was a fairy tale.” I nearly fell over as he lifted my hoof to his lips and gave it a kiss. “But I know somethin’ special when I see it.”

My head spun. My stomach, too. I thought about all the town staring at me, wondering if I was back at it, but as I felt his heavy hoof hold up mine, everything else melted away, until it was just him and me on that train platform. I swallowed hard as I began to dream again for the first time in weeks. “Stranger, I… I admit I’m not usually at a loss for words. I…” I didn’t pull my hoof away. He continued to hold it. “I’m Braeburn, and it’s, uh… extremely nice to meet you.”

He smiled so warmly. “Well, I’d say the pleasure’s all mine, but if I have my way, you’ll be gettin’ plenty yourself.” He winked at me. My heart pounded and my imagination ran wild. “But where are my manners?” He set my hoof down, then gently brushed some of my sweaty mane from my face. “You can call me Bronze.”