Strive

by Croswynd

Chapter 1: Troubling News

The aches and pains of a day’s job well done thrummed pleasantly through Braeburn’s body, and a satisfied hint of a smile played across his face. From the large hill overlooking the orchard, he could see the last few farmponies leaving for their homes.

Appleoosa’s apple orchard never failed to impress him with its stubborn determination to take root in the middle of a desert. The trees stood tall against the dust and wind, just like the hard headed ponies who tended the fruit.

Rays of orange light speared the purple sky and the faintest wisps of clouds hung across the edges of the horizon. Huge peaks far in the distance held the last remnants of a storm that had been a gift from the few kind-hearted pegasi who had arrived in the town with the earth ponies who built it.

“Well, g’night, Appleloosa.” Braeburn tipped his hat and smiled.

Just before he turned away to head home, something odd caught his eye.

Along the path that ran through the center of the apple orchard were two balls of light, bobbing to and fro toward the town. They looked like a reflection of each other, neither moving away from the other. They continued down the old dirt road in perfect tandem.

Braeburn squinted. Now what in Equestria...

Over the whispering wind through the apple leaves, creaking came to his ears. It was almost like...

“Wagon wheels?” Braeburn muttered to himself.

A moment later, he caught sight of the object through a gap in the trees. The silhouette of a pony appeared in front of a carriage, and the two lights he’d seen were lanterns clattering against the back of the vehicle. Unfortunately, it was too dark to make out any other details.

Braeburn reached up to take off his hat and scratch his mane. Who could be coming to Appleoosa so late in the evening?

The carriage disappeared back behind the trees, but he could still hear it clattering as it ran over the ruts in the old road. The bouncing lights continued to peek through the gaps like a couple of mischievous will-o'-the-wisps.

Braeburn clapped the hat back on his head and turned to the trail that would lead him to the town. If he hurried, he could make it just before the carriage arrived.

And then find out who our visitor is, he thought as he picked up speed. Granny Smith always said good news left with the dusk.

Braeburn hoped she was wrong, just this once.

*****

The carriage was just reaching the outskirts of the town when Braeburn trotted up to the general store at the end of the street. Light filtered out of the windows, interrupted only by his shadow, and spilled across the road.

Panting a bit from his run, Braeburn stared into the night and attempted to arrange his sweat-matted mane into something halfway presentable. His hat covered most of it, but the rest of his orange locks were sticking out like he’d just rolled out of bed.

Thankfully, he managed to tame his unruly curls before the carriage slowed to a stop in front of the general store.

It was a small buggy, built for one pony, if he were any judge. Dust coated the outside like a second skin and the small window built into the side of the door was covered in grime. The glow of a lantern on the inside was the only reason Braeburn even knew the carriage had a window.

The earth pony drawing the carriage hadn’t fared much better. Goggles protected his eyes and he wore a cap, but he was otherwise covered head to hoof in that same grime.

“Evenin’, sir,” the huge draft pony said in a deep baritone.

Braeburn put on his best welcoming smile. “Welcome to Appleoosa, stranger. Mighty interesting time to pull into town.”

Before the other pony could reply, the carriage door opened with a clatter and its occupant spilled out onto the ground. Dust puffed up from the road, causing the pony to cough and wave a stubby foreleg to clear the air.

He was a short unicorn with a balding head and a crisp, pinstriped suit. A coat as yellow as butter stuck out against the dark road and what little mane he had was an alternation of red and white. He also had a thin mustache that curved upward on the end of his snout like a couple of candy-canes.

“Confounded carriage!” The new pony stood back up and dusted himself off. His beady eyes surveyed the scene around him before settling on Braeburn. “You there, kid. You from around here?”

Braeburn glanced to the draft pony before returning his gaze to the unicorn addressing him. “Well, ye—”

“Good!” he declared and reached into a pocket to pull out a stubby cigar. “You know where Sherriff, ah, Silverstar’s located?”

Braeburn nodded and opened his mouth to reply.

“Finally, somepony reliable.” The unicorn put in before he could speak and walked up to pat him on the back. “Name’s Flimity Flim Flam, kid. Need to speak to your sherriff, pronto. Don’t suppose you all have a mayor yet, huh?”

“No, sir, we—”

Flimity nodded as if he expected the answer. “That’s alright, that’s alright. Just need to speak to somepony in charge. That is Sheriff Silverstar, correct?”

“Well, yes, and—”

“Well, what’re you waiting for, kid, take me to him!” Flimity exclaimed with an excited wave of his hoof.

The draft pony coughed.

“Oh, right, your payment,” Flimity said around his cigar, his eyes squinting with displeasure. He fished a wallet out of his suit and handed over some bits. “Here. And you wait until I come back before leaving, you hear me?”

Braeburn fought to keep a grimace from replacing his smile. He had a sinking feeling he knew who the pony was and why he was here.

*****

“Silverstar!” Flimity yelled as he burst through the door. “Where are ya?”

“What in Tartarus' tarnation!” the sheriff exclaimed, toppling backward.

Flimity caught Silverstar in a grasp of magic and deposited him back in his chair. “Careful, Sheriff, wouldn't want to take a tumble at your age.”

Sheriff Silverstar blinked at the two ponies in his office. “Who are you? Braeburn, what’s going on here?”

Braeburn gave the sheriff an awkward smile. “I’m sorry, Sheriff, he just—”

The unicorn stuck out his hoof to the sheriff. “Name’s Flimity Flim Flam, Silverstar, representative for a few interested parties in the town. Here to speak to you about a few things.”

The sheriff paled. “I-interested parties?”

Flimity grinned around his cigar and sat down in the cushioned chair in front of the sheriff's desk. “That’s right, Silverstar. May I call you Silver?”

“Whatever you like, Mr. Flam!” Silverstar nervously stroked his bushy mustache.

“Call me Flimity, please!” Flimity chewed on his cigar and waved at Braeburn. “You can go, kid. Ask my driver for a bit as thanks.”

Braeburn felt his face heat up. “Now wait just an apple-buckin’ minute here. What’s going on, Sheriff?”

Now it was Silverstar’s turn to offer an awkward smile. “Mr. Flam, sir, Braeburn’s actually a pretty good representative for the ponyfolk and... well, frankly, I trust him, especially since he solved our dispute with the Buffalo. I’d like him to stay.”

Flimity gave Braeburn another once-over and grunted. “Fine, fine, stay if you want, kid.”

Braeburn frowned and walked up beside Silverstar’s desk, unsure if he should glare at Flimity or just take the abuse. After a moment’s thought, he opted for the latter. Granny Smith always said to treat others with respect, especially if they didn't do the same.

“Now, Silver, let’s talk business,” Flimity said with a glint in his eye. “The investors back in Manehatten aren’t happy with the trickle of money coming from your little town here. And when investors get unhappy, they start clamping down on their stock.”

“Well, I won’t deny we haven’t been exactly prosperous with trade out here,” Silverstar started, “but we’re still only a year old, Mr. Flam. We’re just now sending out our apples to the closest cities. They’re some of the best fruits I’ve ever eaten, courtesy of the local Apple family.”

Flimity leaned back and moved his cigar to the other side of his mouth. “Look, Silver, I get you, believe me. I don’t want to run you ponies out. You’re good, upstanding folk. But the investors don’t see ponies, they just look at bits. And Appleoosa just ain’t pulling in the bits.” He paused to pull out his cigar. “I’ll give it to you straight: they want their money back and they’re thinking about scrapping this whole operation to invest in another project up in the new Crystal Empire. Lots of business opportunities up there.”

Braeburn could barely believe what he was hearing. “What? Since when do we owe money to anypony? We built this town up all by ourselves, with our own hooves. Good, ol'-fashioned earth pony know-how. Why—”

He felt a hoof touch his shoulder and he looked down to see Silverstar shaking his head.

“That isn’t exactly right, son. I should’ve told you this earlier, but, well... I thought we’d be seeing more bits coming through than we have. Never in a million years would I've thought we’d barely be breaking even.” Silverstar frowned and looked away. “We had to pull out a loan from some investors in Manehatten to get all the materials for the town. And then with the damage the Buffalo caused before we made up... well...”

“You’re in debt, boys,” Flimity finished and returned to chewing on his cigar. “But they’re still willing to give you a chance. Like I said, I like you ponies, making your own way out here on the frontier. So I put in a good word and they’ve agreed to let you pay off the debt all at once. They’ve offered a month to scrape it together. After that, time’s up."

Braeburn was taken aback. “You... you put in a good word for us?”

Flimity slapped Silverstar’s desk. “Course I did! I see potential in this town, same as I did before. You ponies just need a little motivation. And if I’m wrong, well, I’ll be complimented for my charity. It’s a win-win situation, you understand.”

Heat returned to Braeburn’s cheeks. “Oh, I understand alright.”

Without waiting for reply, Braeburn left the sheriff’s office before he said anything he'd regret.

The night outside was freezing, and it felt like something just as cold was clutching at his heart. His hooves thumped against the dusty ground in a blur of sound and motion. Braeburn didn’t know where he was going, other than away.

*****

Eventually, the flame of anger died away and exhaustion replaced it. His body felt numb, but whether it was from the cold or the fact that he might lose the town he’d worked so hard to build, Braeburn couldn’t tell. He finally came to a stop and sat with sagging shoulders.

He stared at the grass underneath him, his vision blurred from held-back tears. Crying wasn’t an option, not for him. He fought against the urge to let the tears fall, his teeth grinding together from the effort.

I’ve faced tougher trials than this and everything turned out okay in the end.

The thought took root for a moment before being whisked away by a flurry of questions. It seemed an impossible task. How would he be able to earn the money to pay them back? Why hadn’t Silverstar told him about the loan? Hadn’t he earned the other pony’s trust?

What was he going to do now?

Shaking his head to clear away the questions, Braeburn looked around for the first time.

Trees surrounded him, silent and watchful. Their leaves were still for once, for the wind had died down sometime in the last hour. Unripe apples were sprinkled all around the branches.

Braeburn closed his eyes and drew in a deep breath. The crisp scent of the fruit filled his nose and he let the breath go with reluctance. His mind was starting to clear, surrounded as he was by the gently creaking trees. He always felt better out in the orchard, just like all Apples did. It was like the trees could sense his mood.

A rustle of grass shook him out of his trance and he snapped his head toward its source, the image of a coyote in his mind.

Instead, he found a friend.

Braeburn sighed and willed his heart to stop beating so wildly. “Howdy, Little Strongheart. You’re up late.”

The buffalo calf offered a soft chuckle and sat down beside him. “The same could be said of you, Braeburn Apple.” When he didn’t respond, she continued, “Does something trouble you, my friend?”

“You could say that,” he replied. “I’ve just been told something I don’t want to hear.”

“Ah,” Little Strongheart said thoughtfully. She rearranged herself with another rustle of grass.

Braeburn looked over at the calf to see her staring patiently ahead, a slight smile lighting her lips and stars reflecting in her eyes. She looked peaceful, at ease with the world, so unlike the rowdy calf he'd first met. He wished he shared her demeanor.

“Appleoosa’s in trouble,” he said finally, really feeling the weight of the words. “The investors who lent us the bits to build it want their money back and we don’t have enough. And I... don’t know what to do about it.”

Little Strongheart nodded.

Braeburn took off his hat and scratched his mane. “Just ain't fair. We built this town all by ourselves, planted these seeds and took care of the orchard. We even found a way to solve the dispute between our two cultures. But this... this is different. I can’t see what I’m supposed to do.” He looked down again. “What can I do?”

“Would you like me to speak to my father about these investors? I’m sure he would fight for those who offer him such delights on our stomping trail.” There was something in her tone that seemed almost teasing.

Braeburn caught a smirk curving across his face at the thought of the buffalo going to Manehatten. That would certainly be interesting.

“No, thank you.” He felt his smile fall, despite his lightened mood. “I don’t think violence or intimidation’s the way to go about all this. Besides, even if I didn't know about it, I agreed to build Appleoosa with my family and friends. I agreed to take the lumber and nails without really thinking about where it came from. That might’ve been my mistake, but Apples always keep their end of the bargain.”

Little Strongheart turned toward him and her mouth quirked into a smile. “Then you will find your way, Braeburn.”

Braeburn put his hat back on. “I hope so, Little Strongheart. Thanks for the talk.”

“I’ll always be around if you need me,” she replied with a wink. “We’re friends, after all. Just let me know if you need any help from the tribe.”

“Yes ma’am. I might just do that.”

With a tip of his hat, Braeburn turned back to Appleoosa. The town was as dark as the night around it, but the sight of it still made him happy. It was his home, just like the orchards he stood in.

And he’d figure out a way to save it.

Comments

[Ficta_Scriptor]

So this is the Braeburn fic you've been working on?

I'd tell you that I'm going to read this ASAP, but I have a wicked backlog of unread updates and the curse of a fanfic of my own that needs updating...

So I'll add this to my favourites and read it... um... some time...

I'm sorry!