Braeburn: The Lone Ranger of Appleloosa

by Ponyboy Curtis

Chapter 1

Braeburn slowly opened his eyes to the bright sun above him. It was odd, he didn't remember falling asleep, especially outside. He slowly rolled over so that he was on his stomach and looked at the ground. Sand. He was in the middle of the desert. He sighed briefly and racked his brain to remember how he had gotten there. A buzzard cawed near to him, startling him slightly. He waved his hoof at it and shooed it away, sending a shooting pain up his right arm. At further inspection, he saw that his right shoulder was bleeding. He winced in pain, but then his eyes flew wide open as he looked around his surroundings for the first time.

Laying next to him was another stallion, face-down in the sand. He wore a similar vest as Braeburn and his light brown fur was stained by a pool of blood that had been seeping out of his side. Braeburn let out a shout and backed away from him, only to run into a pale yellow body behind him, this one face-up with flies buzzing around his head. he finally rose to his feet to assess the situation after his initial shock. Another 4 bodies were strewn around him, all bloody and lifeless. 3 of them wore the same form of vest. Then Braeburn remembered.

Butch Burgundy.

His mind raced and was suddenly filled with memories as he remembered back to the morning that same day: Braeburn and his posse had started a trek across the desert just South of Appleloosa to find the treacherous outlaw known as Butch Burgundy. One of Burgundy's colt followers they had captured led them through the desert towards his hideout. Sheriff Silverstar, the leader of the posse, prodded the colt, "How much longer 'till we make it to your boss' little hidey-hole?" The sheriff's mustache alone was enough to put a quake in the navy-blue pony's step (as it had done to many criminals before).

"Oh, only a f-f-few more miles this way." the convict shakily answered, "When we get there... what exactly are y-y-you going to do?" Dusty, Braeburn's closest friend, spoke up from the back of the group in a dark voice, "Bring him to justice." The sheriff nodded, "Abso-tively." The culprit gulped and Braeburn gave Dusty a confused glance at the sudden coldness in his voice. Dusty smiled at him under his grey cowboy hat; he was just trying to intimidate the poor fellow. Braeburn was just about to shake his head at him when a multitude of gunshots rang out. He cried out as his shoulder was hit and he fell to the ground. He could barely make out the blue prisoner colt galloping away, and a throng of whooping and shouting proceeded as he blacked out.

Now Braeburn was holding on to the lifeless form of Dusty, his grey cowboy hat now painted red. He was silent for a moment. Dusty had been like an older brother to Braeburn. Not only had he kept him out of trouble, but he had inaugurated him into the posse and been by his side though every adventure they had. Braeburn began to weep quietly, clutching on to his friend's jet black vest.

"All 5 stallions dead."

the blonde stallion stiffened at the choppy alien voice.

"About 3 hours ago, killed by bullets"

He turned slowly around to see a furry brown buffalo sitting about 12 paces from him, cleaning off a shovel. He was very large, almost twice as large as Braeburn was. Although, for a buffalo, he was only slightly larger than average. A short string of beads hung from his right horn and some bright tribal paint was displayed below his eyes. To the right of him were 6 rectangular holes in the ground.

Braeburn looked suspiciously around, "Who are you?"

"Tribe call me Tonto, means 'wild one.' " his broken English was slightly hard to understand, "I went searching for food, found posse lying there. Bullet wounds 3 hours old. I dig graves" He gestured to the 6 identical holes he had dug out in the sand.

Braeburn carefully let down his brother, who until then he had been holding, and got to his feet. " And why the urge to be so gentlepony-like all of a sudden?"

Tonto pointed a large, powerful hoof at Braeburn, " I recognize you, Appleloosan. Your town give tribe new stampeding grounds as well as apple pies. For that, I pay respects."

By this point, Braeburn was skeptically beginning to trust this Tonto, whoever he might be. It seemed odd that he would up and dig a grave for 6 strangers for the act of one town, but he had heard stories of the buffalo being prone to do such things. Tonto spoke again, "Changing sands cover hoofprints. You know who did this?"

Braeburn looked down in anger, "Yeah, a fellow by the name of Butch Burgundy. He's and outlaw with 15 murders and about 2 dozen thefts up his sleeve. Me and my posse were following his trail when.." he paused for a moment and wiped his eye, "Well, I guess he got nervous we would catch him."

Tonto stooped into a bow "It would bring me honor to help you capture him". Braeburn thought for a moment. Another set of hooves would be helpful, but then again they had just met. Maybe he was working for Burgundy and just came by to make sure the job was finished. Then why dig the graves? The sand would cover up the bodies soon enough. There was something about this buffalo stranger, though. He had an element of sincerity to him, like he really wanted to help him find whoever had done this heinous deed.

Braeburn limped over to the buffalo, "You can come along, but get one thing straight first. I'm not looking for revenge. Only justice." It was true. This was how Braeburn was taught to handle things ever since he had joined the posse. He had also been taught to use whatever means necessary to get justice.

The buffalo slowly rose and met the blonde pony's gaze, "You carry great sense of dignity in you, Kemosabe." Braeburn wore a confused look on his face. He was not familiar with the native buffalo term. Tonto, sensing his confusion, explained, "It means 'trusted friend' " It seemed that this really was a buffalo of character.

Braeburn smiled at him, but then cringed as he stumbled from his injured arm. Tonto quickly produced a long white cloth from where he had sitting been sitting, "Stay still. Kemosabe." He began wrapping the cloth around Braeburn's wound and chanted a soft prayer in the native buffalo tongue. Braeburn spoke after Tonto was finished, "I'm not sure where to go from here. If I try and chase after Burgundy, he'd probably recognize me and kill me before I could even get close to him. And I can't just let him go either."

The buffalo was silent. Then, he got up and moved towards where Dusty's body was laying. He started another native song and removed his black vest. Braeburn probably would have done something, but he wanted to see what the buffalo had in mind. Tonto looked around for a moment and then grabbed a nearby knife. While continuing his native chant, he dug into the vest, cutting out a strip of the dark leather that got thinner as it neared the end. Braeburn stayed silent as Tonto carved his dead friend's vest into a strip. There was not much he could do but watch. The buffalo proceeded to cut out two oval-shaped holes in the center of the strip and hand it to Braeburn. "Sometimes," he stated, "Hero must wear mask."

Braeburn stared at the mask before him. This was Dusty's own vest, a reminder to him of what he had to do to maintain justice in Equestria. This is what Dusty would have wanted him to do. With a slightly quivering hoof, he reached out and took the mask. He tied the dark strip around his eyes and thought of what Dusty would've said to him. Braeburn looked up at Tonto, "Let's go get some justice."

Comments

[VeryConfused]

Decently written. I have a few problems with the pacing (an easy mistake to make, I happen to have the same problem) but overall good, and I want to see what happens next.