The train made its way across the great plains of western Equestria, belching smoke and shimmering like a mirage in the heat of the midday sun. It was 9 hours out of Canterlot, the country's lush green capital city, and was making it’s way to the biggest little town in the whole frontier: Appleoosa.
It was mostly carrying supplies for what was called in the papers the Grand Rail, a huge line of rail stretching across the entire known continent, from Detrot, through Canterlot and beyond. Rail, spikes, food, water, oil and more were eventually going to find their way to Appleoosa, which was the “beyond”, at least for the time being.
The only passenger car on the great steam engine was sparsely populated, containing a few crumpled looking vagrants, who travelled the rail often looking for work. A quiet, reserved gentlecolt in practical-looking clothes spent most of the journey intently watching the scenery pass by.
The rest of the carriage was dominated by a small pile of three hard, thick-looking travelling trunks, which looked to be fit to burst. Scattered around and on the trunks were an abundance of smaller saddlebags and boxes, bulging with nick-nacks and oddities. Their owner had the rear of the car all to herself.
“Are we theeeeere yeeeet?”
Well... almost to herself. Twilight looked over the top of the tome she was currently entrenched in to peer at the little dragon that was her assistant, which was currently sprawled on the seat opposite her, its tail rocking languidly with the sway of the train.
“It can’t be that long now, Spike. The train’s expected in Appleoosa at midday, so we should be stopping any minute now.”
Immobile, Spike responds, “How can you even tell what time it is? We’ve been here for-EVER!”
Twilight wrinkled her nose in response. “The sun’s almost at the top of the sky. That means it’s almost mid day.” She explained as if talking to a child, which, by sheer coincidence, she was.
Spike sat up, his big head and the green spikes that ridged over it barely reaching the top of the bench. He kicked his feet idly in irritation.
“I thought you said this was going to be exciting!”
Twilight sighed and kneaded her brow.
“No Spike. I said I’d be studying frontier culture. THEN, you zoned out and started playing at being a cowboy. WE are going to be studying the effects of the Grand Rail on the people of Appleoosa, especially how it affects the ranchers and the boom that is the gem mining trade.”
Spike perked up at the mention of gems. Gems were considered a delicacy to dragons and they would gorge themselves on them as often as they were able.
“Okay, maaaaybe studying gem mines isn’t so bad.” he conceded.
While the thought of a five star meal seemed to placate him for another half an hour, Twilight was able to finish the chapter of the book she was reading. This study wasn’t her idea, but her mentor’s: the Princess Celestia herself.
Twilight had balked at the initial idea. She was a scholar, not... well, not some adventurer-field-researcher-type pony! She could name all the constellations, the lineage of the Royal family, how candles are made! She knew the Dewey Decimal System, even! Her home was in the Royal Library with her books and scrolls and tomes and...
And she was going. That was final.
The Princess had entrusted Twilight with this duty, to compile a report on the life of her subjects on the fringe. She had warned Twilight that things were going to be very different from the more “civilized” eastern region; this also included law.
The law in Appleoosa was best described as “strained” and worst described as “non-existent”, with bandits roving the badlands and lurking in canyons to waylay unfortunate travellers. Twilight had an uneasy feeling that Spike may get the excitement he was so desperately seeking.
As the train pulled into the station, Twilight rapidly began revising her life choices and wondered if stepping off this train would be the best or worst decision of her life.
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The engine hissed as it shut down and the giant iron beast glided into the dry, wooden station, screeching and complaining as the brakes brought its journey to a close. The vagrants had slinked off, as had the gentlecolt, who had stridden off with intent and purpose. This left Twilight wobbling on the threshold, momentarily caught in internal conflict.
Her decision was ultimately made for her as an overloaded Spike, laden down with their small mountain of baggage, absent-mindedly barged her off her feet and onto the dusty, splintery platform. As the crew on the train hopped off to do whatever it was they did when the trains stopped (she’d have to research that later) and the stationhands began unloading their supplies, they all ignored Twilight’s coughing and spluttering in the grit. Giddily, she rose back up to survey her new home for the foreseeable future.
She had imagined the town to be a small, squat settlement with a single road, like in the theatres back in Canterlot. What she saw shared some similarities, but mostly there were vast differences. The roads were still pretty much dirt, but the buildings were a mish-mash of styles. A lot of them seemed to be wooden, which she had expected. There were even some that were baked out of a dirty white clay and stone.
What she didn’t expect to see, however, was the rather large estate she could see perched on the edge of town, like a peacock infringing on a flock of sparrows. The estate consisted of one large, well built wooden house, in stark contrast to the cobbled-together, mish-mash mongrels that the town was made up of and was surrounded by a modestly sized garden which attempted to be lush, but wilted in comparison to Canterlot’s rich, vibrant gardens though it looked like the owner had tried their best with what they had available.
Shakily stepping out of the shade and into the burning sun, Twilight and Spike mosied (or at the very least attempted to mosey) down the street away from the station. Spike had unloaded their small hill of luggage onto a couple of poor stationhands to deliver to their new accomodation.
The street was practically devoid of life and the sun played no small part in that. In fact, other than Twilight and Spike, there was only one other pony who was either stupid, tough or insane enough to brave the heat.
This particular pony was a bright neon pink, the kind that exuberates a sort of manic cheeriness that would drive others insane. Her mane and tail resembled cotton candy in both shape, volume and texture that complimented the frills of her showy stage clothes finely. She wore a short ruffled dress that ended at the knee, displaying her hind legs and the stockings strung up them in a most very risque manner. They were the clothes of a dancer, of an entertainer.
Spike nudged Twilight and whispered in her ear. “Hey, Twi. You should probably introduce yourself to the townsfolk. You don’t want them to treat you like a stranger like everyone back home does... do you?”
Twilight was an expert on many things. She could name all the known elements of the periodic table. She knew by heart the fables of Starswirl the bearded. She even knew the basic mechanics of steamboat operation.
A conversationalist, she was not.
“Uhm... Hi?” She ventured.
The pink dancer leapt into the air as a colossal gasp of surprise escaped her lips, her ruffled dress billowing in the non-existent wind. After a full three seconds of airtime, the pink dancer landed squarely flat onto the ground and galloped away down the street.
“I guess I said the wrong thing...?” Twilight mumbled weakly.
Spike face-palmed. “It’s fine, Twilight. It’s fine.” He said, unrolling their to-do list.
“Okay... first order of business.... introduce ourselves to the Ranchers. They’ve already agreed to let us study them, so they’re expecting us.”
Twilight shook her head to drum some sensibility back into it. “Alright then. Sweet Apple Acres it is.”