//------------------------------// // Chapter 2: Apathy in Appleloosa // Story: The Sand Thieves // by BaronVonStallion //------------------------------// Chapter 2: Apathy in Appleloosa “Thanks, everypony” Spitfire sighed. “Silverstar, would you mind showing me those robbery reports, maybe take me to the victims? I wanna get started as soon as I can.” Silverstar looked over from inside the crowd. “There’ll be plenty-a time fer that tomorrow. Lemme show ya’ll where yer stayin’.” As the crowd started to disperse, Silverstar trotted over to Spitfire, calling over to Big Mac. “Hey Mac, wanna tag along?” “Tag along?” Mac rose his brow. He laughed, shaking his head. “Nnope. Ah gotta head over ta Braeburn’s.” He nodded to Spitfire. “See ya’ll around town.” “Will do.” She answered. “Let’s go, Sheriff.” Spitfire turned to Silverstar as he stared to walk. She followed Sheriff Silverstar back to his office. He led her upstairs, to a room that overlooked Appleloosa. A bed lay in the corner, with a dresser, a clock, desk, and nightstand being the only other furniture in there. “Settle in, miss...?” “Spitfire.” “Right. Ya’ll can stay here as long as ya like. We’ll start up the investagatin‘ tomorrow.” He left Spitfire to her room, and her thought. Sitting down, she looked around the room. It was plain, everything made of wood. The aroma of sand filled the air. There was no paint, and the wallpaper adorning the room was red, like clay. Boring, just like the rest of this town. Still early in the day, Spitfire pulled out her things and set them throughout the room. She arranged them, then re-arranged them. Spitfire categorized them by color, size, weight, length, and material, over and over. This only heightened the fact the she was bored. Sitting down, Spitfire rummaged through her rucksack. She picked up a blue ball which she’d brought with her, tossing it against the wall. Hitting it on the return, Spitfire proceeded to bounce it around the room for what felt like hours. Bump. Bump. Bump. The noise formed a steady rhythm, like a heartbeat for her apathy. Spitfire checked the clock hanging above her bed. Ten minutes had passed. “You gotta be kidding me...” Spitfire slammed her head into her pillow. She moaned with exasperation. “I need some air.” She opened her window, stretching her wings upwards. Spitfire flew out the window, soaring high above the western town. All of Appleloosa fit easily into her view. She sailed around, twisting and spinning with the wind. This was her time to clear her head. Flying always gave her comfort. Well, almost always. Out here, even flying seemed boring. It was like trying to play basketball in a squash room. There was plenty of room, but no obstacles, nothing to avoid, or watch out for, or slam into . No risk, which meant no fun for Spitfire. Spitfire coasted above the fertile land, trying to keep her mind off of her boredom. But trying to ignore it just made it worse. How do you ponies live like this? She grunted in frustration. Unable to handle the lack of activity, Spitfire decided to start doing laps around the town, save anything better to do. She got to around one hundred fifty before the sun started to set. I should probably head back, she thought. Spitfire flew back to the sheriff’s office, entering the way she left. Spitfire flopped onto the bed, sufficiently tired. “Mac. Time ta get up.” Braeburn poked Big Mac forcefully in the ribs, startling him from his sleep. “It’s a beautiful mornin’ in AAAAAAAAAAAA.....” Mac shoved his hoof in Braeburn’s mouth. “Don’t. Say It.” Mac growled. “Not a mornin’ pony, eh?” Braeburn chuckled. Big Mac rolled out of bed and onto the floor, heaving himself up and sluggishly crawled into the bathroom. The sound of steaming water radiated out. “I’ll take that as a no” Braeburn sighed. Mac groaned, letting the hot water run over his body. His muscles relaxed with the soothing steam, and he rested his head against the wall. This is gonna be a lotta work, Mac thought. Ah need to throw mah farmin’ inta overdrive. He grabbed the apple-scented soap, and scrubbed his face. That, an’ Ah can’t get back in that rut again. Ah promised AJ. He leaned forward, really thinking over his options. Unless some...catastrophe occurs, Ah’m only here ta farm. No matter how much Silverstar begs me. Mac chuckled a bit at the thought. Silverstar, groveling. Maybe when Celestia grows a second horn. Mac turned off the shower and dried off. He stopped in his room to throw on his yoke, and grab an apple as a snack. He met Braeburn outside. “Ya’ll ready?” Braeburn asked. “O’ course” answered Mac. They started with the fields closest to the barn. They’d rotted through, and the entire left field needed to be re-plowed and seeded. “Mac, ya need ta grab the plow. Ah’ll seed behind ya.” “Sounds good.” Mac trotted into the barn, hitching himself into the steel plow. Though his cutie mark was an apple, he always felt like this is what he was meant to do. He grunted with effort, freeing the dirt in his plow’s path. “Jus’ like old times, huh Mac?” Braeburn chuckled. “Eeyup.” Spitfire awoke quickly, snapped her eyes open. She sat up, walked over to the blinds, and thrust them open. The small town was busy with activity, all of which seemed mundane to Spitfire. Ponies walked to and fro, stopping at various shops and stalls. Though seemingly content, the air around the road was stiff and lifeless. Most of the citizens were still very nervous about the recent robberies. They were random and without reason. Nopony knew who was next, which led everypony to be suspicious of everypony else. Knock, knock. “Miss Spitfire, ya’ll ready?” a gravelly voice queried from across the door. She hopped into her uniform, grabbed her goggles, and opened the door. “Let’s get started.” She zipped past Silverstar and went down the stairs. “After you, then” Silverstar huffed. The two headed first to Mint Julep's manor. She was the first to get hit, it seemed reasonable to speak to her first. Silverstar led Spitfire to the outskirts of Appleloosa. They stopped before two large, iron gates that indicated the entrance. “Wow. Big place” Spitfire muttered. “Well, when ya’ll are head of the water company, and own a large share of land, ya get to have certain amenities.” Spitfire grunted. Great. Fancy ponies. This can’t go badly at all. Spitfire mentally groaned as Mint Julep reviewed the series of events during the burglary. “Ah saw the devastation. My, my heart nearly stopped from the terror alone!” Julep fanned herself, lying on an outstretched lawn chair. “Ah told Clarence that it was the WORST thing I’d ever seen, didn’t Ah, Clarence?” A pearly white unicorn pony stood next to her, wearing a black suit coat and matching bow-tie. “Yes, m’lady, I believe you did” he drawled in a nasally, europoniean accent. Spitfire figured he was probably from somewhere around Manechester. “Clarence, would you grab us a few drinks?” Julep waved him off, and Clarence retreated into some unknown section of the massive house. As Spitfire looked around, she had to admire the grandeur of the mansion. The house was stark white, with large pillars greeting any visitors. It had a multitude of rooms, and probably enough servants to care for the entire town. When the "help" had led them through, she'd noticed long halls riddled the home, many filled with painstakingly carved busts and forms. “So, Miss Julep, what was actually taken?” Spitfire asked hastily. “Well, they tore off mah gate. Had to replace that.” She waved in the direction of the entrance. “As well as one of my statues. That was the real loss, I tell you.” “Which statue?” Julep sighed. “They stole the visage of my father, Jim Bean. ‘Twas a glorious steel statue, it stood just before the front door.” She sat up, removed her sunglasses and looked straight at Spitfire. “You must retrieve that statue, miss Spitfire.” Spitfire tightened up. “I’ll do my best, madam.” She saluted. After Mint Julep’s, a series of smaller farms were next. They sat together in a group an acre or two away from the Julep manor. Most of their plumbing was missing, as well as many of their tools. Spitfire inferred that they’d most likely been hit in the same night, due to their proximity. She judged that they’s been hit a week after the Julep manor. Spitfire jotted down every detail, taking mental notes of where and who lost what. “So, where to now?” Spitfire questioned. “Whelp, we got Wheat Chaff’s left, an’ that’s it.” As the two trotted towards the Chaff family farm, Spitfire had a few questions for Silverstar himself. “Silverstar, don’t you find this...weird?” “How do ya’ll mean?” “Well, they’re not taking anything of particular value. It’s...just metal. Not bits or gems.” The sheriff huffed. “Ah suppose. Though, Ah find it weird for anypony to commit crimes.” “Granted, you may be right” she sighed. “Something just feels...off.” The trotted up to the commune-like estate. It resembled many of the other farms around Appleloosa, except for the size. The Chaff family farm was massive. As Spitfire was introduced to Wheat Chaff and his three large sons, she marveled at the many acres they owned. “Wow..” she said, absentmindedly, “Must be hard to keep watch of this place.” Spitfire mentally kicked herself, realizing that was the reason she was here. “We do alright. Least, until now. Let me show ya'll what happened.” Wheat Chaff led her and Silverstar to the back of their combine barn. The refueling station, as well as the repair station were completely removed. “Ah must say, Ah never seen nothin’ like this.” Chaff brushed his brow with a old rag. “Ah mean, we had drought. Parasprites. The incident with the buffalo last harvest. But this...” he waved over the missing components, a grim look oh his face. “Why do you say that?” asked Spitfire. “You don’t get outlaws here much?” “Well, less than you’d think, ever since we first had Sheriff Apple.” Spitfire had finally found something of actual interest. “Really? Do tell...I’d love to hear the tale.” “Oh, it ain’t mah place. Ask him ‘bout it, if ya got the time.” Her ears drooped, resigning in defeat. “Fine” she grumbled. “Can you show me the tracks?” “Tracks?” Silverstar inquired. “Yeah. Those machines were pretty big, right Mr. Chaff?” “Right.” “So,” started Spitfire, “They most likely couldn’t levitate it. Magic strong enough to lift those is easy, for the right unicorn. But the right unicorn is not always easy to find, especially in a place like Appleloosa." The blue collar town consisted mainly of earth ponies, due to the migration of workers. "They probably dragged it or wheeled it away.” She knelt down, feeling the ground around the barn. “Yeah, look at this.” She poked her hoof at the ground, where a few distinct hoof-prints lay. “This is were they dug in for their heavy lifting.” “Oh, Ah see.” Silverstar seemed impressed. “Wheat Chaff, would you lead us to the tracks, if any?” “O‘ course.” He showed them the tracks which oddly enough started nearly 50 yards away from the barn. The ruts in the earth were deep. They were also slightly uneven, showing that had to stop a few times during the crime. After 20 feet of deep cuts in the ground, the tracks just...stopped. Very abruptly. “Wha...where’d they go?” Spitfire muttered. “Huh. Ah certainly wasn’t expectin’ that.” Silverstar scratched his head. “Ya wanna head into the house? Ah think Ah smell Mrs. Chaff cookin’ up some mean cornbread...” “Nah, you go ahead. I-I...gotta think.” With Silverstar heading back to finish up with the Chaff family, Spitfire watched the sun sit on the edge of the horizon. For all it’s faults, and according to Spitfire, there were many, the Appleloosian sunset was breath-taking. She sat on a hill over-looking an adjacent farm. Watching the farmers work, she wondered how they could stand it. It’s just so...boring. The workers were small in number, only two of them out right now. One was meticulously planting seeds, bending every other second to adjust a small blockage or such. The other pony was large. Very large. She watched as he dragged a plow behind him, grunting against the clay-like earth. It was a battle of wills, so to speak, and the large pony was certainly winning. A soft glow from the setting sun surrounded the two. Spitfire spied on the stallion (she assumed) for a bit, sensing a familiarity. Who is that? I know I’ve seen him around town. Fed up with wondering, she jumped up, gliding from the small hill down onto the farm. As she neared, Spitfire could see that the massive stallion bore a red coat, with a green apple cutie mark. She landed lightly in front of him, drawing a small smile on his face. “Howdy, Spitfire” Mac drawled. “Hey. What’s up, Mac?” He turned his head to plow, pointing his nose. “Just workin’.” Spitfire chuckled. “That’s too bad.” “Why’s that?” Big Mac asked. “It looks boring, is all.” Mac started to laugh, earning a puzzled look from Spitfire. “Oh, Ah’ll show ya how borin‘ it is.” He started to pull again with Spitfire trotting next to him. “If’n ya’ll got nothin‘ ta do tomorrow, come by ‘round noon.” She nodded. “I’ve gotta go over the incident reports, but...yeah, I’ll be here.” “How’s all that, by the way?” Spitfire huffed. “None of it make any sense. I mean, the pattern does. The places that got hit are pretty much in a row. But...” “But?” Mac stole a glance at Spitfire before returned to his work. “But whoever did this didn’t know what they wanted, apparently. They took some metal, some plastic, and that’s about it. They couldn’t sell it back anywhere around here. It’s all printed with each family's different farm logos.” “Hmmm” Big Mac thought. “Maybe they ain’t tryin‘ ta make a bit...” “What?” Mac stopped at the end of acre, throwing his harness off and setting it next to the plow. “Think about it. Everypony knows everypony else ‘round here. So, maybe they’re usin‘ the stuff fer somethin‘ else.” Spitfire scratched her head. Deep thoughts from a farm hand. “Thanks...I’ll keep that in mind.” She got ready to fly, turning her back to Mac. “See ya tomorrow, then.” “Eeyup.” She flew back to Silverstar, who was just exiting the Chaff family farm house. “Ya’ll ready?” he asked. “Yeah, I got some things for tomorrow. Let’s head back.” Looking at her notes, Spitfire grimaced. Her mind hurt, having run over the facts more times than she cared to think. Uggh. She pushed back from her desk, frustrated with the lack of progress she’d made since returning to her room. Turning off the oil lamp near her bed-side, Spitfire laid down. This was exactly what she’d wanted yesterday, to just jump into the problem. But when each end of the problem seemed to lead nowhere, all there was to do was wait. At least I have a plan tomorrow, she thought. Spitfire could sleep soundly with that. A/N: Sorry for the very overdue update. Severe writer's block impeded me on this chapter, and that probably affect the quality. I'll make sure to make the next chapter longer, stronger, better than this.