Chapter One
There's a New Sheriff in Town
As the wagon bounced along the muddy track to the old homestead, Apple Bloom stared out at the wind-scoured Appleloosian landscape, haunted by the premonition she’d had the night before. She had awakened in the darkness to the howl of the unusually warm wind against her bedroom window. A Chinook had blown in. When she’d looked out, she’d seen the bare old aspens vibrating in the wind, limbs etched black against the clear night sky. It felt as if something had awakened her to warn her.
The feeling had been so strong that she’d had trouble getting back to sleep only to wake this morning to Russet banging on the door downstairs. “There’s something you’d better see,” the elderly
ranch manager had said. And now, as Russet pulled her up the bumpy road from the ranch house to the old homestead, she felt a chill at the thought of what waited for her at the top of the hill. Was this what she’d been warned about?
Russet pulled up next to the crumbling foundation. The wind howled across the open
hillside, keeling over the tall yellowed grass and gently rocking the rickety old wagon. The Appleloosa landscape looked the same as ever; as if it had been rung out, all color washed from the hills until everything was a dull brown-gray. The only green was a few lone cacti standing rigid against the wind-rinsed sky.
Little remained of the homestead house Apple Bloom had failed to repair. Just part of the rock foundation and the fireplace, the chimney standing as a great obelisk against the horizon. Past it, in the soft, wet earth, Apple Bloom saw Russet’s tracks where he had walked to the old well earlier this morning. All that marked the well was a circle of rock and a few weathered boards that covered part of the opening.
Russet cocked his head as if he already heard the marshal’s siren coming up the ranch road. Apple Bloom strained her ears but heard nothing over the pounding of her heart. She was glad Russet had always been a pony of few words. She was already on edge without having to talk about what he’d found. The elderly ranch manager was as dried out as a stick of jerky and just as tough, but he knew more about cattle than any pony Apple Bloom had ever known. And he was as loyal as an old dog. Apple Bloom's thoughts flashed to her own pet, Winona, before burying burying them again.
Until recently, Russet and Apple Bloom had run the ranch together. She knew Russet wouldn’t have gotten her up here unless it was serious. As Apple Bloom caught the whine of the approaching
carriage over the wind, the sound growing louder, her dread grew with it. Russet had told her last night that he’d noticed the boards were off the old dry well again. “I think I’ll just fill it in. Safer that way. Give me something to do.”
Like most homesteads, the well was just a hole in the ground, unmarked except for maybe a few old boards thrown over it, and because of that, dangerous to anyone who didn’t know it was there.
“Whatever you think,” she’d told him the night before. She’d been distracted and really hadn’t cared. But she cared now. She just hoped Russet was wrong about what he’d seen in the bottom of the well.
They’d know soon enough, she thought as she turned to watch the marshal’s black and blue wagon come roaring up the road.
“Scrappy’s running faster than usual,” she said frowning. “You must have lit a fire under him when you called him this morning.”
“Scrappy ain't marshal anymore,” Russet said.
“What?” She glanced over at him. He had a strange look on his weathered face.
“Scrappy just up and quit. They had to hire a temporary marshal to fill in for a while.”
“How come I never hear about these things?” But she knew the answer to that. She’d always been too busy on the ranch to keep up with all the gossip. Even now that she worked down in Appleloosa, her ties were still more with the ranching community—what little of it
was left in the canyon since the buffalo town of Big Sky had sprung up at the base of Brittle Wing Mountain. A lot of the Apple family ranchers had sold out or subdivided to take advantage of having a ski and summer resort so close by.
“So who’s the interim marshal?” she asked. “Not Scrappy’s nephew Copperstar? Tell me it’s anyone but him.” she groaned.
Russet didn’t answer as the new marshal brought the carriage painted with a golden star on the side to a stop right next to her side of the wagon. Apple Bloom was puzzled. She'd never seen the gray stallion behind the reigns before, and he certainly wasn't kin to old Sheriff Silverstar.
“Er, howdy officer.” Apple Bloom said extending her hoof in greeting. “You must be the new law around here.”
The bulky gray pony just shook his head leaving Apple Bloom's hoof dangling in the air. “Nope, sorry ma'am. I'm just the driver.” As soon as he spoke the door to the carriage swung open.
All the breath rushed from Apple Bloom as she looked over and saw who emerged.
“Maybe I should have warned you,” Russet said, sounding sheepish.
“That would’ve been nice,” she muttered between gritted teeth as she met Spike's emerald green
gaze. His look gave nothing away. The two of them might have been strangers—instead of former lovers— for all the expression that showed in his handsome face.
Her emotions boiled up like a geyser. First shock and right on its heels came fury. When Spike had left town five years ago, she’d convinced herself she’d never have to lay eyes on that sorry son of a bitch again. And here he was. Damn, just when she thought things couldn’t get any worse.