Ever wonder why Granny Smith gives Filthy Rich those 100 jars of zap apple jam? Or who her husband is? Or why zebras are treated differently in Ponyville? All the answers are in Granny Smith's private scrapbook.
Granny Smith has had an agreement with Filthy Rich for years, making sure that he gets the first 100 jars of zap apple jam every harvest. What her grandchildren don't know is why, or how come their grandmother has agreed to increase that amount this year at the risk of losing the farm. They find a photo of a zebra family that Granny Smith becomes defensive over hidden in the pages of a curious scrapbook they have never seen before. They discover that there is a link between their dear old grandmother and the Barnyard Bargains businesspony hidden among the old photos and clippings, along with the answers to questions they never dreamed they would ask. Just what secrets are hiding in Granny Smith's private scrapbook?
Cover art done by the ever so talented Frostspear. Please check him out on DeviantArt, and give him your appreciation: http://frostspear.deviantart.com/
Pardon the mess, I'm re-editing and adding more content! Stay tuned for more!
It was only last night that the timberwolves had started howling, signaling the start of another zap apple growing season. It was hard for the Apple grandchildren to sleep that night, not only because of their excitement for the upcoming profitable harvest, but because of Granny Smith running around like a mad old woman with pots and pans strapped to herself. They knew she did this to make enough noise to scare the timberwolves away from the farm, but the noise had a way of traveling through the cotton balls they had crammed in their ears.
While all the commotion kept everypony awake throughout the night, it also caused the town of Ponyville to quickly spread the news of the upcoming zap apple harvest. Everypony would soon be lined up clear across town, eager to take a bite out of the latest goodies that the zap apple harvest would yield, more specifically the delicious zap apple jam that the Apple Family was known for.
Mmmmmmm… Zap Apples…
That morning as Granny Smith helped a groggy Apple Bloom slip into her cute little bunny costume to sing to the water, they saw a familiar pony coming up the walk way with his obnoxious daughter following closely at his heels. With a big grandmotherly smile, Granny Smith waved a costumed hoof in the air in greeting. “Well, howdy doo there, Filthy Rich!” she hollered neighborly. “I’m guessin’ ya heard all ‘bout the good news. We’re gonna have us a right goodin’ of a harvest this season. I can feel it in mah bones, achy as they are and such.”
Filthy Rich couldn’t help smirking at the crazy old mare in the ridiculous bunny costume, wondering how many more harvests she had left in her. “Why that’s excellent news!” he said enthusiastically, putting on his winning businessman smile. “And as usual, I can expect the first hundred jars?”
The ears on Granny Smith's bunny costume bobbed back and forth as she nodded. “'Course ya do, sonny,” she agreed with a bright smile. “Y’all can nab ‘em up, just like every year! I'll get ‘em stacked up and ready to go fer ya, just like we agreed.”
Filthy Rich smiled at the thought of the profit he was looking forward to. “That is spectacular news as always,” he grinned from ear to ear, “but you know, those hundred jars just fly off the shelves at Rich’s Barn Yard Bargains. And with our new location opening up in Trottingham, those hundred jars just won’t last me long enough. What’s say we barter for an increase on that number.”
The goofy smile on Granny Smith’s face faded fast. “What’s that now?” she mumbled, looking suspiciously at the businessman smile plastered on Filthy Rich’s face.
Filthy Rich grabbed the old mare’s bunny ear in his teeth to set her aside from the children. “Let's take a walk, Granny Smith,” he mused. “We’ve got some serious business to discuss, and I don’t know if the fillies need to be within earshot of this one. Besides, Diamond Tiara should probably spend some time with her friend.”
Diamond Tiara shot her father a dirty look as he forced a pair of bunny ears on her head, making her squeal from the fake ears pulling her hair and pinching her scalp. She protested loudly as he scooted her toward the circle of watering cans. “Don’t be stubborn,” he said under his breath, giving her a stern look in an attempt to quit her bickering. “Before long, we’ll be swimming in profits from our new shop in Trottingham. Just do this, okay?”
Apple Bloom and Diamond Tiara watched the two adult ponies walking away, Granny Smith looking slightly uncomfortable as she talked with Filthy Rich. They were both talking too low for either filly to make out anything they were saying.
As soon as the two ponies were out of sight, Diamond Tiara shucked off her embarrassing bunny ears. “Would you look at how ridiculous you look,” she giggled as she took a seat on a hay bale. “I am sooooo glad I don’t have a crazy family to have to worry about, especially with what it takes for yours to turn a profit.”
Apple Bloom grumbled under her breath as she hopped over the watering cans, trying to sing her ABC’s to take her mind off the bully lounging around and watching her work. The zap apple harvest was important to her family, and listening to a spoiled débutant's teasing wasn't making her hard work any easier.
Diamond Tiara laughed all the more at the attempt to ignore. “You know, with everything going so well with my daddy’s new store opening, I wouldn’t be surprised if we own this dump by years end! Wouldn’t that be something!”
Knocking over one of the watering cans in a misstep, Apple Bloom shot the pink filly a sour look. “That ain’t so!” she hollered, trying to look as threatening as she could, which looked more ridiculous than she'd intended in her little blue bunny suit. “This here’s our home! What right have ya got fer sayin’ somethin’ so horrible?”
Diamond Tiara hopped triumphantly off of the hay bale, proud to have gotten under Apple Bloom’s skin. “My Great Uncle, Fairly Rich, says so, and he owns the Ponyville Building and Loan that holds the deed to this farm,” she cavalierly replied, staring haughtily down her nose at her costumed companion. “After all, he handles all your family’s accounts, and have you seen how much debt you all are in? I mean, come on, not everypony in town has a fourth mortgage on their property. We’ve practically got you all by the tails!”
Not understanding the first thing about investments or banking beyond her piggy bank, all Apple Bloom could do is leer back at Diamond Tiara. “Well… oh yeah!” she warbled, trying to think of a good response. “Well, if it weren’t fer our apples, y’all wouldn’t be makin’ so much money! Y’all need us!”
Flicking her tail in Apple Bloom’s face, Diamond Tiara turned away and laughed triumphantly. “You really think you’re the only family we profit off of?” she chuckled. “We have distributors all over Equestria! You’re not the only bumpkin bunch we make a bundle off of. Get over yourself, blank flank!”
Unable to take the tormenting any longer, Apple Bloom lunged out with a vengeance for the bully. “Take that back, ya filthy liar!” she hollered as she dove for Diamond Tiara, fixing to throttle her.
Stepping aside strategically quickly, Diamond Tiara watched her angry adversary face plant into a row of watering cans, the water making a little mud puddle around Apple Bloom. “Why should I, Mud Bloom?” she insulted, kicking up a mud pie in Apple Bloom’s face. “Why don't you ask that crazy old coot? Make her show you the accounting paperwork and see for yourself!”
Before Apple Bloom could try to strike again, Big Macintosh picked her up by the scruff of the neck. “Lemme go!” she hollered in frustration, throwing muddy hooves in the air willy nilly.
Big Macintosh shook his head gently not only to add to the ‘nope’ he uttered, but also to rock his sister and calm her down.
Diamond Tiara stuck out her tongue from behind the safe distance Applejack made between them. “I’m not lying,” she said defensively. “You two know all about the debt your family owes my daddy, don’t you?”
Applejack and Big Macintosh’s expressions went from defensive to deflated at the mention of the debts. It was a sore subject that they had to deal with ever since their parents had passed away, and being reminded of the struggles that they faced without their parents tended to hurt.
Applejack looked sternly down at Diamond Tiara to quiet her torments. “Y’all better watch yer mouth ‘round these here parts,” she cautioned. “We know we’re owin’, but we done been workin’ our hind quarters to the tail bone to get y’all paid off. And we’ve been making some right profits here of late, so don’t go pokin’ fun where it don’t belong!”
Setting his calmed sister down, Big Macintosh added a firm ‘eeyup’ to the argument.
Apple Bloom watched as her grandmother and Diamond Tiara’s father came back from their walk, noticing Granny Smith’s head hanging down. Filthy Rich's expression was just the opposite. He had a look of pure triumph on his face, smiling broadly as he put a front leg around Granny Smith's shoulders. “I’m glad we have a deal!” he bellowed proudly. “We’ll keep this here between the two of us, and I’ll work everything out in the accounting books.”
Seeing her grandchildren’s concerned looks, Granny Smith put on an obviously fake smile. “Oh, uh, why thank ya kindly, Filthy!” she exclaimed as loudly as she could, putting on a most obviously fake performance as she trotted to the huge cooking pot laying sideways in the yard.
Smirking at the silly old woman he’d made a deal with, Filthy Rich joined her by the large cooking pot. “Uh, I prefer Mr. Rich,” he said as he picked up a wooden spoon in his mouth.
Glad to be sticking her head in the pot to avoid looking at her family, Granny Smith muttered under her breath, “I meant what I said, ya filthy varmint.”
Getting a smile out of the silly defensive remark, Filthy Rich struck the pot with the wooden spoon. He didn’t understand this odd ritual in the zap apple harvest, but it sure was a satisfying way to seal the deal.
Granny Smith dashed up to her bedroom shortly after her talk with Filthy Rich, claiming a powerful belly ache as the cause of the sudden departure. It wasn’t like her to lock her bedroom door, but the last thing she wanted her grandchildren to see were the tears streaking down her wrinkled old cheeks as she stressed over her accounting books. Sure, the deal she’d just made with Filthy Rich had kept them from foreclosure this time around. The deal would even get them through the end of spring and into summer, but could that get them as far as fall’s cider season? Even if they didn’t have another set of competition like they did last year with the Flim Flam brothers, she wasn’t sure if it could get them through to next year’s zap apple season at this point. Were a few extra hundred free jars really worth it? And what if he demanded more?
Needing to take her eyes off the ugliness of the numbers that lay before her, Granny Smith looked absentmindedly around her bedroom. In her vain search for something to cheer her up, her eyes fell upon a very old family scrapbook sandwiched between some worn out books on her bookshelf. Unlike the scrapbooks and photo albums in the living room bookshelf, this one was kept hidden from the rest of the family. It was filled with scandalous history, mixed memories, family secrets, and a whole host of deep regrets.
In spite of the negativity hidden away in the pages, Granny Smith reached for it with the hopes that a smile from the past might give her some ideas on how to get through the next few months. If it was one thing the old Seed Family was good at, it was scraping by in the worst of situations.
She stared down at the photos of her family, looking into the eyes of her loved ones and remembering just how much she missed them. She dabbed at her leaking eyes as she neared the middle of the book, unable to dab away the regrets she held closest to her heart. One particular regret weighed heaviest, and seeing it in the very center of the book set her off. “Ah, look at ya, mah lil’ girl,” she whimpered as she placed her hoof over a photo of some work worn zebras building a zap apple jam stand, paying extra attention to a smiling, striped little filly. “How’d I ever let ya go like I did? Why, I reckon we’d be a right goodin' of a family iff'n I’d done right by everypony.”
That photo was worn down by years of regretful attention. Staring at the photo of the zebra child reminded her of the pains that she kept secret from her family, and the very secret that held her in so much debt to Filthy Rich.
Granny Smith shot up in shock at the sound of her door being knocked on. “I’m a comin',” she said meekly, hoping that she sounded sick enough for her grandchildren to leave her alone.
Looking at the desk, she didn’t know what to hide first, the scrapbook or the accounting papers. Both would have roused enough suspicion from the kids, and the last thing she wanted was to get into a conversation about either. Hearing another concerned knock on the door, she decided to stuff the papers into the scrapbook and shove it back into the bookcase.
As she tossed a doily over the book to better conceal it, she heard Applejack fiddling with the knob. “Granny?" Applejack called out. "Ya alright in there? Ain’t like ya to be baracadin’ yerself in.”
Big Macintosh bellowed an agreeable ‘eeyup’ as he took a turn to knock on the door.
Granny Smith ambled toward the door with her night cap hastily stuffed onto her head. “I told y’all I ain’t feelin’ well,” she argued, trying to sound pathetically unwell. “Last thing we need is fer y’all to be missin’ the harvest on account of yer achin’ bellies.” Opening the door, Granny Smith let out a rather pathetic attempt at a cough to drive her grandchildren away.
Unconvinced by the performance, Apple Bloom smiled innocently up at her dear old grandmother. “Speakin’ of bein’ accounted fer,” she said as she took advantage of her small size to sneak into the room, “Diamond Tiara told us ya had account books, and that we owe some money to her daddy. Ya think we can make enough money this harvest to pay her daddy off?”
The innocent question was an uncomfortable one, and the plastered smile on Granny Smith’s face wasn’t fooling anypony. “Oh now, don’t ya fret yer cute lil’ head ‘bout it now,” she said, backing away toward the bed.
Big Macintosh shook his head as he walked up to the bed to tuck in his grandmother. “Nope,” he said as he pulled back the freshly made sheets on the bed. “Ya probably need to get some talkin’ in, ‘specially since these sheets ain’t been messed up yet.”
Looking guilty, Granny Smith put her hoof down in frustration. “What is it y’all want?” she said, plopping her behind on the mattress in defeat.
Applejack went up to the roll top desk and began rooting around for the accounting documents. “We wanna know what’s got ya all riled up,” she said, knocking a few pages off the desk. “That lil’ Diamond Tiara was sayin’ some mighty nasty things ‘bout ya, and honestly I wanna know what’s goin’ on with our finances.”
Adding an ‘eeyup’ to the argument, Big Macintosh eyed his grandmother sitting in bed. She looked up at him with a stubborn scowl. “Ta’int nothin’ to say,” she said, crossing her front legs like a frustrated filly.
Applejack rolled her eyes as she dug around the roll top desk, hoping to find what she was looking for. Her frustration grew with each slip of paper she pushed aside. Surely some answers were hiding up here!
As discarded papers continued to land on the floor, Apple Bloom decided to take another look around at them to see if her sister had missed something. While taking a look at the papers littering the floor, she noticed what looked like an old photograph. “Hey, who’s this?” she said, holding up the photo to her family. “It looks kinda like Zecora’s family, don’t it?”
Granny Smith leapt out of bed with a terrified look on her face and swiped the photo out of her granddaughter’s hoof, looking down at it in fear as her family gawked at her. She cowered over the photo as they approached her. “Well, I, uh… it ain’t nothin’ much… uh,” Granny Smith mumbled, breathing heavily as she tried to think about what she was going to say and hoping she could cover for the truth. “It’s just… just…”
No good excuse came to Granny Smith’s mind as she looked at the image of her deepest regret. She began to cry as she held the photo close to her heart, bawling at the realization that she could no longer hide the painful truth from her family. “All yer answers are in mah scrapbook!” she wept as she pointed to the bookshelf in defeat, unable to look any of them in the eye.
Big Macintosh and Apple Bloom rushed to Granny Smith’s side to comfort her, but Applejack was more determined to get answers than she was to comfort her crying grandmother. After finding what she was looking for under the doily, she started to spill the scrapbook open.
Being the no nonsense type, she went right for the papers first and did not bother paying attention to any of the old photos or clippings. “What in tarnation is this!” she hollered as she put a frustrated hoof down on the papers concerning the extra jars of zap apple jam and the math that went along with it. “What gave ya the idea to give them Rich’s this many more jars of jam? I know we’re behind on what we owe ‘em, but how in Equestria are we gonna make it to next jam season if we give ‘em that much of our jam?”
Granny Smith brushed away the papers as she gathered up the precious old scrapbook. “It’s kinda complicated, youngin’,” she said, sighing heavily as she turned to the front page of the scrapbook. “Me and the Rich’s go back a whole mess of years, and they got a lot of dirt on this here family.”
Wanting some answers for why Granny Smith made such a ridiculous decision, Applejack softened her approach so that she could encourage those answers out of her grandmother. “Simmer down now,” she said gently as she handed her grandmother a handkerchief, wincing slightly at the sounds of Granny Smith blowing her nose. “So yer sayin’ ya’ve known the Rich’s a long time?”
Finishing with her handkerchief, Granny Smith turned to the front of the scrapbook. “Oh we’ve had to work with them loan ponies ever since I was a lil’ filly,” she said, pointing to a picture of her family. “Why, I’ll never forget them early days…”
The Seed Family lived on a very small plot of land in Dodge City. It had been a dry few years due to union strikes in Cloudsdale, which had been hard on the harvests around Equestria. Dodge City didn’t have the money to have irrigation systems built into place to combat the strike that more well off cities could afford to take advantage of. Because of the lack of water, many family’s farms and properties had dried up, leaving little chance to profit off of what they had.
The Seed Family patriarch, Pokey Oaks, had mortgaged his house to the Dodge City Building and Loan for a second time in order to make ends meet. His logic dictated that if he could gather up enough valuable seeds to sell that he would get the mortgages paid off to the banker, Mighty Rich, in no time at all. He hadn’t realized that the union strikes in Cloudsdale would continue for as long as they had, and that the dry spell was going to hurt the seed industry as badly as it had in the long run.
Returning home that day after taking a partial payment to the Building and Loan, he watched as his two teenaged sons pecked at the dry dirt in the back yard. ‘Wonder what they dug up today?’ Pokey Oaks thought to himself as he watched his middle child, Happy Trails, pull a thin, discolored root of a carrot out of the ground.
He watched as the big smile on the teenager’s face faded as his older brother, Prairie Tune, comment negatively on the low quality of the vegetable. “Boys!” he hollered before a fight could break out. “Y’all are gonna upset yer momma with yer bickerin’. Now bring that there carrot inside so she can get her somethin’ to eat. She’s gotta feed that baby in her belly.”
Upon hearing the sound of her father’s voice, his youngest and only daughter peeked her head out the window. “Daddy!” she exclaimed, holding her arms out the window for her father to pick her up. “I’m so glad yer back! I found a real hum dinger of a seed fer ya today! Ya just gotta come in and see it!”
Pokey Oaks couldn’t help smiling at his daughter’s unbridled enthusiasm. Unlike the rest of his family and neighbors, her optimistic spirit hadn't been broken by the hardships Dodge City had endured. He hoped she would never see it be broken by anypony or anything. She really was the apple of his eye, and he showed it by picking her up right out of the window and planting a big sloppy kiss on her cheek. “Why yer a right seeder, Smithy!” he smiled as he set his daughter down beside her brothers. “So what do ya think it’ll grow up into? Maybe a magic bean stalk that’ll get us all the way to Cloudsdale? Or how ‘bout a tree that’ll feed the whole town!”
Smithy loved her father’s tall tales. How he came up with them was a mystery to her, but being surprised by his imagination was always fun to hear. Too bad her eldest brother didn’t share in her enthusiasm.
Prairie Tune tossed the carrot at his sister’s feet. “Take this to mama,” he instructed bluntly. “Maybe y’all can grow it into a crazy lil’ stew or somethin’ magicked up like that.”
Happy Trails smacked his older brother in the flank with his back leg. “Tuney!” he wined. “Y’ll get everypony upset with yer gabbin’. And mama don’t need to get upset, what with the baby on the way.”
Prairie Tune rolled his eyes at his brother’s concerns. “Oh come on, Happy,” he sighed, pointing to a row of memorial sticks poking out of the ground where dead family members had been buried. “It ain’t like it’ll be 'round long enough fer us to get to know it. Just look at the last few she birthed out. Stuck in the ground now with nothin’ but a stick to remember ‘em by.”
---------------
Apple Bloom’s jaw dropped as she listened to Granny Smith talk about her brothers. “How could he say somethin’ so awful?” she gasped innocently.
Granny Smith wrapped a comforting arm around her granddaughter as she explained the harsh reality. “It’s ‘cause he knew he was right,” she explained. “Bein’ born at home ain’t easy on a lil’ foal, or on its mama. Poor lil’ fella started comin’ into the world while me and mah Grammy Gillyflower started makin’ carrot soup, and left the world by the time supper was ready. It just weren’t strong enough ‘cause mama didn’t have enough good food while the baby was in her.”
The memory of the burial wasn’t a pleasant one, especially as Granny Smith thought about the song Prairie Tune strummed on his guitar as Happy Trails covered the baby over with dirt under the withered old apple tree. It seemed the only way that Prairie Tune could keep himself going was to write songs…
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There ain't no grave Can hold mah body down There ain't no grave Can hold mah body down
Well meet me, Mama and Daddy, Meet me down the river road And Mama, ya know I'll be there When I check in mah load
Ain't no grave Can hold mah body down There ain't no grave Can hold mah body down
Though she’d been through this for the fifth time in her life, mother Sew n’ Sow couldn’t help crying over the loss of her newest stillborn baby. “The stars are holdin’ ya now, mah lil’ darlin’,” she wept, pawing at the fresh mound of dirt under the apple tree.
Her husband wrapped his front leg over her shoulder to comfort her. In truth, holding his wife was the only thing keeping Pokey Oaks from bawling. “Ya did yer best, Sew n’ Sow,” he said, burying his face into her neck. “I just wish I coulda done better on ya.”
Wiping at her eyes with a dirty handkerchief, Sew n’ Sow leaned her face against her husband’s head. “Now don’t go sayin’ anythin’ like that,” she said softly. “All ya need is to keep workin’ hard on them seeds and we’ll be in good with the Buildin' and Loan in no time at all. Then all our babies’ll be good and healthy.”
As if on cue, Mighty Rich came waltzing up to the tree with a basket of treats, followed closely by some of his own family. “Awww no, lost another one?” he said, genuinely frowning at the sight before him. “Gosh I’m sorry to see this. And here I was gonna bring y’all a lil’ somethin' sweet to help y'all celebrate. How ya folks hangin’ in there?”
Though Pokey Oaks and Sew n’ Sow were happy to accept the basket, Grammy Gillyflower shot the Rich’s a dirty look. “What’re y’all doin’ here?” she accused, grabbing her granddaughter protectively.
Mighty Rich’s father eyed the old lady’s ill behavior. “Ah, come on now,” he said with a neighborly smile. “I may be retired, but that don’t mean I ain’t gonna take care of mah own and their lil’ business. Besides, I got a few grandchildren of mah own here to think 'bout, and I can’t be lettin’ mah boy set a bad example fer 'em.”
His pre-teen, pimple faced grandson named Stinking Rich smiled up at his grandfather. “Yeah!” he said with a stupid grin, his voice cracking due to pre-pubescence. “We take care of our own, right grampa?”
Smithy stuck her tongue out at Stinking Rich. “We take care of our own too, don’t we, Grammy?” Smithy replied in her family’s defense.
Stinking Rich laughed at how Grammy Gillyflower tried to reassuringly stifle her granddaughter. “Is that right, Granny Smith?” he teased haughtily. “If they really thought at all 'bout ya, than why did they give ya such an old lady name like ‘Granny Smith?’ I can’t imagine having such a nasty name like that. Ya must be rightly embarrassed!”
Pursing her lips angrily, Smithy pointed an accusing hoof at the gangly pre-teen. “Better than havin’ a stinky name like ‘Stinkin’ Rich’!’” she bellowed in a high pitched wail, her grandmother holding her back from getting into a fight.
Seeing the escalating argument, Mighty Rich stepped in on his father and son. “Don’t y’all see they’re havin’ a rough time!” he scolded.
His father lowered his ears at the tone, but Stinking Rich stuck his nose in the air. “Yes sir,” he said blandly, shooting Smithy a sideways glance and ignoring her dirty looks.
Turning her angry granddaughter away from the tormentor, Grammy Gillyflower ran her hoof over the filly’s yellow braids. “Shhhhhhhh,” she hissed gently. "Don't pay him no mind. Colts like that just wanna find anythin' they can to get under yer skin so they can feel better 'bout themselves. Shows ya how petty they are if ya really think on it."
The grandmotherly advice didn't help cool Smithy’s heated temper. "I wish I had a different name!" she complained. "I hate gettin' made fun of. It's just too doggone easy fer folks like Stinkin' Rich to pick on me!"
Grammy Gillyflower took a deep breath as she patiently listened to her only granddaughter’s complaints. "Folks'll always find somethin' to bring ya down iff'n they really want to," she explained as best she could to her nieve grandchild. “I know ya think it’s a kinda silly name fer such real lil’ pony, but trust me on this one. One of these here days y’ll learn to appreciate yer name fer what it is.”
Smithy had heard her grandmother say that a hundred times before, but it never made hearing it any better. Her name felt like nothing but a big target for ridicule.
Mighty Rich turned his attention back to the grieving parents. "Gotta pardon mah boy," he apologized. "Ya know how they get at that age."
Pokey Oaks eyed his mother and daughter, huddled up together and shooting the Rich's a sour look. "It's alright," he said. "I know we ain't been the easiest folks to work with here of late."
While he didn't want to sound rude, Mighty Rich couldn’t help nodding in agreement at how much these debtors had tried his patience. "Still, y'all are some good, salt of the earth kinda ponies, and I can respect that," he said, turning the conversation to another topic. "While I know y'all are owin' somethin' fierce, I thought I'd tell ya 'bout mah brother. He said he needs some help with haulin' Celestia knows what. Might be a good opportunity fer ya, Pokey Oaks. Get a lil' money fer yer family, start payin' down this here debt. Everypony'll benefit, iff'n ya don't mind gettin' yer hooves dirty."
Sew 'n Sow's eyes lit up at the prospect of money coming in again, but Pokey Oaks wasn't so sure. "Mah special talent's seedin', ya see," he explained, turning his hip to show the seeded cutie mark on his flank. "While I sure thank ya kindly fer thinkin' of me, I don't know what good I'd be doin' somethin' else."
Mighty Rich lifted an eyebrow at the cutie mark. "I know it ain't what ya were plannin' on doin' to put food on the table," he explained, "but sometimes we can't always do what we want in life to get what we need. I never thought I'd be a banker, but look at me now. When I was yer youngin's age, I thought I'd travel the world. Sure, I still wanna do that with a business, but I ended up doin' this here so mah family could eat."
While Pokey Oaks could see Mighty Rich's point, he just couldn't imagine a life outside of his dreams. "No offense, but don't ya think I'd be miserable at it?" he asked. "I don't wanna just jump on in on somethin' I just don't have the experience or skills fer."
Mighty Rich returned his debtor's know-it-all gaze. "No offense, but are ya sure yer special talent ain't fer makin' yer family miserable by starvin' 'em to death?" he replied. "I ain't sayin' ya gotta do this here forever, Pokey Oaks, but money's what fuels lives 'round these here parts. Iff'n ya can't pay down what ya owe, ya won't be able to move in the directions I know ya wanna go. Besides, some of the skills y'll learn won't hurt yer own seedin' business. Heck, ya might even start networkin' in places ya never would've known otherwise, helpin' ya build up a better seedin' business."
Pokey Oaks turned his back on the banker. "I'll think 'bout it," he grunted, watching his wife's face twist up in disappointment.
Mighty Rich watched the distressed couple, his heart filled with pity at how headstrong Pokey Oaks was being. If only he could see the error of his ways and the opportunities he was presenting him. He wanted to see everypony working and prospering, but instead he was watching a stubborn pony looking for what he wanted to be just given to him.
Might Rich sighed as he realized that some ponies just wouldn't take advice that they didn't want to hear. "Offer still stands, if ya change yer mind," he said. "I ain't tryin' to hurt ya none, Pokey Oaks. I wanna help ya, but ya gotta wanna help yerself iff'n ya wanna get ahead is all I'm tryin' to say."
Pokey Oaks picked up the gift basket in his mouth. The two ponies stared at each other from the distance Pokey Oaks had put between them, the seeder with a look of frustration and the banker with a look of hope. "Thank ya kindly," Pokey Oaks said slowly, working the words through the handle of the basket he had gritted in his teeth. "Now go on. We need some time to ourselves."
Mighty Rich gathered his family up to leave, tipping his bowler hat at the Seeds. He knew this wasn't a good time to talk about debt, but it seemed like every time he came to talk was always a bad time.
As the Rich Family left, the Seed Family crowded around the basket. Inside were apples, corn bread muffins, honey butter, and an updated bank notice with the current balance.
Feeling bad after her brash display earlier, Applejack nuzzled her hurting grandmother. “So that’s how ya know 'em, huh?” she asked tenderly, making sure to smile at her old granny. “Sure don’t explain why yer owin’ ‘em now. Or why yer givin’ ‘em such a big helpin’ of our jam.”
Holding up the photo of the zebras, Apple Bloom had questions of her own. “Or where these here zebras came from,” she added, bouncing up and down so that she could be seen and heard.
Big Macintosh added an enthusiastic ‘eeyup’ to the mixture as he looked over his grandmother’s shoulder.
Granny Smith nudged her grandchildren playfully as she turned to the next page in her scrapbook. “I’m gettin’ to that, mah impatient lil’ ponies,” she joked as she turned to an old yellowed wanted poster with a picture of Pokey Oaks on it.
The sight of it made her grandchildren gasp in unison. “That’s right, mah lil’ ponies,” Granny Smith explained. “Mah daddy was in a might bit of trouble with that banker, Mighty Rich. It weren't even a year later and the seed sales ain’t made so much as a dent in his debts. Daddy couldn’t afford to make payments anymore, so he just stopped tryin’. And he didn't take that banker up on that job, even if mama really wanted him to. By that point he was a broken man, and it sure didn’t help him that mama lost another baby too."
Granny Smith sighed heavily as she remembered how her father's stubbornness had effected her family's welfare. "Mighty Rich was comin’ over all the time and tried to talk some sense into mah daddy," she explained. "He tried helpin' him hunt fer more jobs, and even tried to refinance them loans of his so he could make smaller payments. It all started out nice enough, but daddy was just too darned stubborn to work with him. He weren’t keepin’ to his word on makin’ payments, and weren't even tryin' to find another job. Mighty Rich tried and tried over and over to talk sense into daddy, but one day daddy just flew off the handle and started throwin’ punches at that old banker. Even gave him a black eye! After that Mighty Rich went after him legally, lookin’ to put him in debtor’s prison.”
Pawing at the old paper, Granny Smith remembered the day he was served legal papers. Pokey Oaks was a proud pony, so seeing him break down like he did was terrifying to the young members of the Seed Family…
---------------
Smithy walked outside with her brothers and grandmother, leaving her parents in private with their troubles. She felt a shiver go up her spine as Prairie Tune strummed a tune to drown out their father’s sobs. “What are we gonna do now?” she said in a meek, innocent voice.
Even optimistic Happy Trails stared long faced at the front window, turning away with his eyes closed in disappointment as the lamp by the front door was blown out. “I just don’t know,” he sighed as he listened to his father cry. “I ain’t ever seen daddy like this before. I wish I had some answers fer ya lil’ sis, but I’m just as lost as y’all are.”
Seeing the terror on her grandchildren’s faces, Grammy Gillyflower gathered them together in a tight huddle. “Now here’s what y’all should be doin’,” she whispered, making sure she wasn’t within earshot of anypony. “Y’all are gonna make a run fer it. Head on up north and just keep on runnin’. Find all kinds of seeds and find yerself a town that’ll have a market fer ‘em, one that don’t know yer daddy. Y’all can make yerselves a fresh start!”
The idea seemed so simple that the children couldn’t help getting excited with the possibility of an answer. All children that is, accept Prairie Tune. “Aw come on, Grammy!” he exclaimed as he stopped strumming his guitar. “It just can’t be that easy. Not when money’s involved! Sooner or later we’ll get caught up on, and when they do catch us we’ll be in a whole heap more trouble. And besides, yer a might bit slow fer wantin’ to run away, so they’ll catch up with us all the more quick.”
Grammy Gillyflower tussled the negative pony’s mane lovingly. “Now who said I’m a comin’,” she said with a mischievous smile in spite of the concerned reactions on her grandchildren’s faces. “Now come on y’all. I’m too old and slow fer pickin’ up mah life. And besides, somepony aught to be here fer when the boys in blue come along with their patty wagon. May as well be me!”
Prairie Tune shook his head in disbelief. “Ya can’t be serious!” he bellowed, his siblings hurriedly trying to hush him. “They won’t take ya in daddy’s place! If anythin’, they’ll just take ya in fer helpin’ us escape.”
Granny Gillyflower grabbed her grandson squarely by the shoulders. “Ya expect me to sit back and watch y’all go down without a fight?” she asked seriously. “I’d rather go to the gallows knowin’ mah family’s far away from here than sit and watch y’all suffer, knowin’ I didn’t lift a hoof to help. Ya understand me boy?”
It was the bravest thing Prairie Tune had ever seen, though the thought of losing his dear old Grammy to such a risky, ridiculous plan made the gesture all the more bittersweet. He knew he could argue with her (heck, that’s what he was good at!), but arguing just wasn’t going to get him anywhere with this stubborn old mare. Gritting his teeth to keep in his rebuttals, he let her fling her front legs around him and squeeze him in a desperate hug. “Yer a wrinkled up old fool,” he whispered softly, swallowing back his emotions as he hugged her back.
---------------
Apple Bloom smiled with relief, having heard all about the family’s travels to Canterlot in her class on Family Appreciation Day. “It worked!” she said, clapping her little hooves in celebration. “Yer daddy escaped from Dodge City and he was safe in Canterlot, thanks to Princess Celestia!”
Granny Smith shook her head in disappointment. “If only it were that easy,” she said, turning the page to reveal Pokey Oaks’s mug shot photos from Foalsom Prison in Canterlot. “Prairie Tune was right ya know. A wanted poster goes far and wide, ‘specially when there’s money’s involved. We weren’t in Canterlot fer a whole day before a guard found daddy and hauled him off to Foalsom Prison.”
Apple Bloom stared at the mug shots in disbelief. “So why didn’t ya say this in class?” she asked, looking at the sad expression on Pokey Oak’s mug shot.
All Granny Smith could do is laugh. “Ya think I’d go and tell everypony that ya came from jail stock?” she snortled. “Come on now, honey bun! Do ya really think I’d do anythin’ to embarrass ya in front of all yer friends at school?”
Apple Bloom blushed at the notion. “Oh, ‘course not,” she lied, remembering how much she had tried to prevent her grandmother from coming to class.
I hear the train a comin' It's rollin' 'round the bend, And I ain't seen the sunshine, Since, I don't know when.
I'm stuck in Foalsom Prison, And time keeps draggin' there, But that train keeps a-rollin', On down to Baltimare.
Prairie Tune took to begging on the streets of Canterlot to help make money for the family, and was particularly good at it with his musical abilities. Taking his guitar out on the street corners, he found this to be an opportunity to write his pains into songs while still making the money his family needed.
Artsy types were really starting to get into Prairie Tune’s bluesy music, which helped him get small gigs in seedy bars. Thanks to these gigs, he’d become an underground sensation amongst pub crawlers, art house enthusiasts, and beatnik music lovers alike. Of course, this crowd also introduced him to several other things, many of which were not wholesome or healthy for him. But who could resist the free rounds of cider, advances from loose women, and other recreational treats those artsy types were giving him in exchange for the sound of his smooth baritone voice, especially if you could drown your sorrows at the end of a long day of begging.
Being a more wholesome boy than his older brother, Happy Trails took on two jobs. His first job was with the Equestrian Army as a field guard. Equestria was in a peace time, so after basic training was completed he was assigned guard duty on the streets at night.
His second job was a day shift at a courier business. Seeing as how he was a strong young man, and a nice one to boot, he became quite popular at this job. It didn’t take him very long to become the most requested pony in the company by several repeat clients. On top of the opportunities presented to him by becoming Most Requested Pony that quarter, he also gained the opportunity to become social in town. And seeing as how the Canterlot elite were beginning to ask for him by name so often, he specialized not only in the excellent customer service they came to expect, but also became a messenger pony for extra tips. Before he knew it, Happy Trails had begun building himself a nice network.
Happy Trails was dedicated to shrewdly saving whatever money he could to put towards paying off his father’s debts. Due to his father's incarceration, the amount due had tripled due to legal fees. Often he and Prairie Tune would fight over work ethics and money use due to the differences in their professions. He became accustomed to coming home exhausted after his long work days, and on the rare days he didn’t have any work to do he often just slept. For him, there was no time for fun and games. One of the few distractions he allowed himself was watching his little sister playing with his army helmet.
Unlike her sons, Sew n’ Sow didn’t make her money in any exciting way. She was a waitress in a local restaurant known as the Calla Lilly Cafe, grateful that the owner allowed Smithy to wash dishes in the back in exchange for some of her tip money. On top of doing the dishes, Smithy’s job for her family was to pack up a big bag full of table scraps for their dinner. It wasn’t much of a life, but it helped the family not have to worry about what to eat for dinner every night. During that time, the Seed Family lived like street urchins in their wagon at the edge of Canterlot for the next eight months as they waited for their opportunity to have an audience with Princess Celestia to appeal Pokey Oaks’s case.
---------------
Looking over one of the restaurant’s menus that she had saved for her scrapbook, Granny Smith smiled longingly as she thought about being up to her elbows in suds at such a young age. “Why, I used to love it when Mr. Fry had too much pie at the end of the night,” she mused, licking her lips as she pawed at a few stains on the menu and realizing just how hungry she was from missing dinner. “Takin’ home half a pie felt like a real accomplishment back in them days. Mah favorite was always apple pie, ‘specially with freezer burned ice cream. In fact, that's how I earned mah cutie mark!”
Big Macintosh and his sisters watched Granny Smith mumble to herself about pie, waiting for her to get on with the stories in her scrapbook. To break the incoherent mumbling, Big Macintosh waved the photo of the zebras in front of her face. “Uh, Granny?” he said, handing her the photo. “What 'bout these here folks?”
Snapping back into reality, Granny Smith took the photo from her grandson. “Oh, these folks,” she said with a big smile. “Well, I ain’t up to them just yet, though I did meet this lil’ one’s daddy while working at the restaurant. I met him the night of the Grand Gallopin’ Gala…”
---------------
Sew n’ Sow was working a double shift that night, waiting on patrons from the Grand Galloping Gala as they stopped in for a bite to eat after the big party. Hors d’oeuvres only filled ponies up so much after all, so a late night pick me up was just the ticket for those hungry elites, especially the Wonderbolts. They sure loved a good slice of pie and a pretty waitress to tease. Sew n’ Sow put up with the drunken flirting the Wonderbolts doted upon her after hearing that they were good tippers. She hated behaving like this with her daughter so close by, but if she didn't put on a flirty smile, she was afraid she wouldn't get tipped.
Smithy could see her mother batting her eyelashes at the table full of Wonderbolts, thinking to herself how much she missed her father. She imagined that he wouldn't let those fast flying ponies talk to her mother like they were, especially since he used to tell her that boys should behave like gentleman so that a girl could be a lady.
She hadn’t seen her father since his incarceration, but she thought about him everyday. Every load of dirty dishes made her think about how her life had been turned upside down by the Dodge City Building and Loan, and how much she hated the Rich Family. She wished she could just wash them all away like a glob of ketchup smeared on a dirtied plate. If it was only that easy, she wouldn't have to watch her mama pretend to like the Wonderbolts advances for money.
Smithy sighed exhaustedly as she was up passed her head in dirty dishes. She was so tired from the extra work she had to put in, and was suffering from a severe case of pruney dish water hooves. She decided that it was high time for a well deserved break, especially after she saw a drunk Wonderbolt try to kiss her mother. Taking a glass of sweet iced tea out to the back porch, she sat on the bottom step and took in the night air behind the restaurant.
Absentmindedly staring out into the alleyway while enjoying her beverage, Smithy caught sight of what looked like a shadow sneaking up the alley. She could hear the sound of chains clanking gently across the pavement stones as the shadow crept slowly around. The sight of it made her think it was a ghost. She dropped her glass of tea as she let out a loud gasp, the sound of the breaking glass making the shadow stop in its tracks. It stared up at her with terrified eyes from under the hood of a black cloak. It quickly backed into a trashcan as it tried to get away from her.
As the shadow tripped over its chains and into a pool of light given off by a lightning bug street lamp, Smithy realized that it wasn’t a ghost at all. The creature’s hood fell away from its face, revealing what Smithy thought to be the strangest looking pony she had ever seen. She’d never seen a pony with its face and legs covered in stripes before. The thing that surprised her the most was that it was a young thing, a little colt about her age.
They froze in each other’s gaze, the look on the striped colt’s face full of terror in spite of the curiosity on Smithy’s. Breaking the silence, Smithy put on her brightest smile and said a cheerful “Hey there!”
The friendly gesture did not go as she had hoped. The striped colt creature threw his hood back over his head before scrambling to his feet to run. “Hey!” Smithy hollered as she got up from the step on the back porch. “Where ya goin’ in such a hurry? And where’d them chains come from? Did ya run away from Foalsom Prison or somethin’? Hey! Come back here!”
Abandoning her restaurant responsibilities, Smithy took off in hot pursuit of the mysterious striped colt. Having a hard time maneuvering with those chains around his ankles, the striped creature did his best to knock things over to trip his chaser. He ran full tilt toward the mountainous wilderness at the edge of Canterlot, trying to escape the persistent filly hollering pointless questions about her father at him. He suddenly stopped as his chain got caught on a gate.
Catching up to him, Smithy watched the young colt fumbling with the chain. “Now that’s more like it,” she exclaimed as she began to catch her breath. “Iff'n ya don’t mind, can ya tell me what in all…”
Before Smithy could mutter any more, the striped colt put his hoof over her mouth to keep her quiet. “Please be hushed!” he whispered in a terrified tone. “You will have me caught with your noise! Please…”
Smithy could see the pure panic in his eyes as he fussed to free the chain from the gate. “Here, I'll help ya,” she said softly, taking the chain in her mouth and giving it a good hard yank. She knew that look on the striped creature’s face all too well. It was the same feeling she had been feeling since her father became a felon.
As soon as she was able to yank the chain free, she saw relief pour over the colt’s face. “Now ya tell me what’s goin' on,” she said with the chain still in her mouth.
The colt’s jaw dropped as he saw the filly’s jaw tighten stubbornly. He’d been freed, only to be held again thanks to this pony’s stubbornness. “The mountains,” he said quickly with frustration. “You will know when we are safe in the mountains. Hurry!”
Before they could even make a move, they saw a bright light shine upon them. The light of a unicorn’s horn blinded them in place, causing them to shield their eyes. As their eyes adjusted, they saw a group of burley palace guards standing before them, one of the guards being Happy Trails. “You there!” Happy Trails loudly accused, pointing a hoof at the striped colt in the dark cloak.
The striped creature ran for his life, dragging Smithy behind him as she held onto the chain in her mouth. “Let go!” he cried out in fear. "I do not want to hurt you, but I must escape! Please! Let go!"
Doing as she was told, Smithy let go of the chain and watched the striped creature run. So he was an escapee, but what could his crime be? Her gaze and questions were cut short as guards whizzed passed her, making her cover her head as they rushed past her in pursuit of their target. “Get that zebra!” a pegasus guard shouted. “Don’t let him get away!”
Smithy had no idea what a zebra was, or what those guards wanted with him. All she knew is that one of the unicorn guards surrounded the striped colt with a magic spell and used that magic to detain him. She watched the helpless zebra thrash around in the magical orb that contained him, screaming out in pain as the guard performed a stinging spell on his captive that he seemed to enjoy doing.
Smithy cowered helplessly as the zebra tried in vain to reach out for her as he hung magically in midair. “You!” he screamed helplessly, streams of frustrated tears pouring down his cheeks as he failed to hit her. “You did this! You foolish little pony!”
One of the pegasus guards wrapped a protective front leg around the petrified filly. “Don’t let that nasty zebra scare you,” he smiled proudly as he watched the captive creature get thrown into a patty wagon. “You did your nation a great service tonight by catching that striped little monster. If you hadn’t stopped him, he would have gotten away. Princess Celestia will surely smile down upon you for your good deed.”
The princess! Smiling upon her?!? Would this mean her family would finally get an audience with the royal pony? Surely she would show some mercy for her father in exchange for the deed she had done. But what exactly had she done, and was it worth it to see her father freed in exchange for another prisoner to be kept captive? “Hey, Mr. Guard?” Smithy asked. “What’d that zebra pony do that made y’all so mad at him?”
The guard let out a big bellowing laugh. “Now don’t waste your worries on that zebra, little one,” he said, tussling Smithy’s hair far too roughly for her liking. “Besides, he’s no pony, that’s for sure. Zebra’s are too wild to be ponies. Anyway, we’ve got to get you home. I’m sure your mother wouldn’t want to get too worried about her little hero.”
Chapter 6: The Trial of Pokey Oaks vs. Dodge City Building and Loan
Chapter 6: The Trial of Pokey Oaks vs. Dodge City Building and Loan
Applejack had met Princess Celestia before on several occasions, so hearing this news from her grandmother made her feel optimistic. “Seein’ the princess was a good thing, right?” she asked, trying to interpret the look on her grandmother’s face as she watched her turn to the next page.
Granny Smith nodded without looking at her granddaughter as she showed a royal pardon penned by Princess Celestia herself. The Apple grandchildren cheered at the good news, though their jubilation was cut short by Granny Smith’s lack of jocularity. “Good news ain’t always cut and dry,” she explained, looking at the pardon and remembering what it took to get it. "It took a lil' over a week since the night of the Gala to get an audience with Princess Celestia, and by then I was so nervous I could barely think straight..."
---------------
Sew n’ Sow smiled nervously as she and her daughter approached the palace in their threadbare Sunday best, grateful for the audience they had earned from Smithy’s lucky catch. Sew n’ Sow kissed her little girl on the cheek before they approached the royal door. “Yer the apple of mah eye, lil’ darlin’,” she said with a nervous smile. “Now just be on yer very best behavior while we talk to that princess ‘bout lettin’ yer daddy go. His freedom’s ridin’ on yer good behavior now! So be sure to bow real nice, and talk when yer talked to, and fer heavens sakes, don’t slouch!”
Smithy gulped back her anxieties as the guards cast an examination spell upon them to make sure they weren’t carrying anything harmful in their saddlebags. The whole thing was a lot of pressure to put on somepony so young.
The guards permitted the two ponies inside, accompanying them to the royal throne room to meet up with Princess Celestia. The princess had been told ahead of time about the request that the Seed Family had made in exchange for a vague good deed that the child had done for the kingdom. The princess dismissed a well dressed zebra before she nodded regally to the simple subjects approaching her throne.
Celestia watched contently as the mother and child bowed low before her. Signaling for the guards to back off a bit, the princess stood with a welcoming smile on her face at the simpletons bowing on the floor. “So, I hear you were quite the patriot to the city of Canterlot, my dear Granny Smith,” she said in a surprisingly cheerful voice for such a serious situation.
Smithy looked up at the smiling Celestia, uttering a dumb little ‘uh huh’ as she stared awestruck at the beautiful princess. She had never been in the presence of anypony so important or so beautiful before. No wonder everypony held her in such high regard!
Princess Celestia let out a kindly laugh at the filly’s simple utterance. “Surely you’ve seen royalty before, my little pony,” she smiled, crouching down on the still bowing Smithy’s level, getting a shy little ‘uh uh’ out of her subject.
Smithy gazed in awe at a princess whose laughter sounded like music, and whose smile was a beam of joyful sunshine. She relaxed a bit as the princess looked peacefully upon her. “Uh, princess?” she asked shyly, getting a terrified look from her mother at talking out of place. “We were hopin’ maybe we could talk to ya 'bout mah daddy, iff’n that’s okay.”
Celestia smiled at the childlike bluntness that Smithy displayed. “Right to the point," she chuckled. "I like that in a pony. Do you have politicians in your family?”
Celestia took this opportunity to walk up to an ornate set of draping curtains. While she understood the seriousness of the situation to her subjects, she couldn't help enjoying the opportunity for theatrics. Using her alicorn magic, she levitated the curtains away for a dramatic effect to reveal a ragged looking Pokey Oaks. He was detained in chains and held back by two strong earth pony guards.
The very sight of her father threw Smithy into hysterics. “Daddy!” she exclaimed with tears in her eyes, forgetting to mind her manners as she ran up and jumped at him with her front legs outstretched to hug him. Celestia signaled the guards to allow the display of affection, looking over at Sew n’ Sow with a ‘you can join in too’ look on her face as she nodded at the father and daughter.
Elated by the gesture, Sew n’ Sow galloped up to her beloved husband and covered his face in kisses. “I’ve missed ya so much,” she cried into his neck as she hugged him hard.
Returning the kisses and hugs hungrily, Pokey Oaks looked down at his daughter clinging to his front leg for dear life. “The apple of mah eye,” he said, barely able to contain his pride. “How’d I ever get so blessed with ya? I heard all 'bout how ya caused all this today. I just can’t thank ya enough, mah lil’ darlin’. I'm so glad they ain't broke ya yet!”
Gently breaking up the reunion with a lady like throat clearing, Princess Celestia led the family before her throne for Pokey Oak’s trial. Everypony was surprised to see that Mighty Rich was now standing beside the throne, having taken the opportunity to get there while the Seed Family had their reunion. “I sure am glad we could finally do this,” Mighty Rich said with a humble bow to the princess. “I’m just sorry it had to come to this. I wish like heck it all could of been avoided.”
Smithy shot Mighty Rich a dirty look. “What’s he doin’ here!” she demanded of the princess, pointing an accusing hoof at him.
To quiet her young subject, Princess Celestia lifted a royal hoof above her head to demand silence. “He is here for the very same reason you are, my dear Granny Smith,” she said calmly. “He is here for your father. Though I admire your gusto, I must ask you to give Mighty Rich the same courtesy that you request of me and all of my subjects.”
Smithy had thought to tell the princess how she preferred not to be called by her given name, but one sideways glare from her mother ended that idea. Now was everything, especially since how they chose to defend themselves could mean the difference between freedom and imprisonment. While still having a lot more on her mind, Smithy chose to stiffen her lips and keep her thoughts to her self for her father's sake.
Mighty Rich began his statement with a friendly little smile at the princess. “I thank ya kindly, yer majesty,” he mused. “More importantly, I thank ya fer yer divine council over such a serious matter such as this, yer good citizen Pokey Oaks.”
Pokey Oaks perked his head up at the acknowledgement of his name. What was this smooth talker up to?
Mighty Rich winked at the prisoner before continuing with his opening announcements. “Yer majesty, this here is the finest seed man ya ever laid eyes on. Surely a skill like this could of been enough to raise a family, but ya know what a terrible drought Dodge City’s been under over the past few years due to all the bickerin’ them union boys keep doin’ up there in Cloudsdale. I know Chairman Carpet Bag and his staff is makin’ real good progress with them union boys, but a drought like that takes a toll on a man’s business, leavin’ him from well off to well near starvin’.”
Pokey Oaks was in shock as he heard the speech. Was the pony who put him behind bars really defending him just now? And why? “Uh, yer majesty?” he said, raising a chained hoof to break the speech. “Iff'n I may be so bold, what’s he doin’ here defendin’ me? He’s the one who put me in jail in the first place.”
Mighty Rich expected this kind of reaction, and had prepared documentation to back up his reasons for being there. “Pokey Oaks, I really tried to work with ya,” he sighed as he began his explanation, pulling out an accounting book dedicated to the account for the Seed Family. “Ya went through a mighty rough patch right ‘bout here, as ya can see by the lack of payments fer several months. I know I talked to ya a lot 'bout this, even helped ya try findin' work. Ya even signed on multiple occasions that ya intended to pay set amounts each month so that ya’d be takin’ care of yer debt. Yer lies got outta control, and when I tried to talk some sense into ya, ya went and attacked me. What else could I do? I hated doin’ this, but I felt endangered. I had to protect mah bank and mah customers, so I went after ya legally. It weren't what I wanted to do mind ya, but I had to do it.”
Pokey Oaks felt ashamed of his behavior, and blushed furiously as he explained it to the princess. “I… did things I ain’t proud of,” he confessed. “I was so frustrated with everythin’ goin’ on with mah family. Mah wife kept losin’ babies and the ones I had were so starved their belly buttons were stuck to their backbones. With this wormy lil’ pencil neck breathin’ down mah back 'bout makin’ payments I just didn’t know what to do anymore. I felt like everythin’ I did I failed at, and I was desperate. Mah mama suggested runnin’ fer it after I attacked Mighty Rich, and I was outta options. I know it weren’t right, but I didn’t know what else to do to keep mah family livin’.”
The ‘wormy lil’ pencil neck’ comment aside, Mighty Rich still looked down at the defeated pony with a sense of sympathy. “Look, I know yer not a bad man, Pokey Oaks,” he said, trying to encourage the prisoner. “Ya just made a few bad decisions is all. I'd loved to just let go of yer debts, but doin’ so would have ruined the accounts of all the other ponies who trusted their money to the Dodge City Buildin' and Loan. I had to do it to keep the books even or else others would have had to pay fer yer mistakes. And if I'd let ya slide, everypony else would have wanted that kinda treatment too. If enough ponies did it, we'd have no more banks, ya understand?”
Princess Celestia looked down upon both of her subjects with sympathy. Surely they both wanted to strike a peaceful agreement over an unfortunate financial situation. “Mighty Rich,” she said, addressing the loan pony. “You say that Pokey Oaks is a seed collector. Do you have any samples of his seeds?”
Feeling completely unprepared, Mighty Rich shook his head. He was surprised to hear Sew n’ Sow saying “I got them seeds” as she pulled a satchel of seeds out of her saddlebag. The tired mare marched up to the princess with the satchel proudly held in her teeth as if holding onto them had been her sign of love and fidelity.
Setting the satchel down with a sweeping bow, she watched nervously as the princess rooted around in the satchel with her hoof and flicked out seeds that had peeked her interest. “I have never seen such an amazing assortment of seeds!” Princess Celestia exclaimed, smiling up at the prisoner and his family. “Surely your talents are being wasted in Foalsom Prison.”
The princess’s remarks made Pokey Oaks smile. He’d forgotten how good it felt to be proud of something. “However,” the princess added sternly, watching her subject’s smile begin to fade, “you are still in a massive amount of debt to this man who must in turn take care of those who have trusted their money to his bank.” The realization stuck Pokey Oaks hard as he lowered his head in shame.
Princess Celestia approached the Seed Family, who were clinging to each other in a desperate last attempt to show that they belonged together. Craning her head toward the poor family, she put on a mischievous smile. “There is something I need you all to see,” she said, winking at the Seed’s. They looked at each other in disbelief as the princess walked away from them before revealing a balcony with her magic. Was this her idea of some kind of cruel joke?
Following obediently, the Seed Family walked out onto the balcony to join Princess Celestia and Mighty Rich. The view from the balcony could very easily be considered breath taking, though the breath had already been taken out of Pokey Oaks months ago. He could barely hold his head up as Princess Celestia held out her hoof to reveal her kingdom. “Do you see that wooded area over there?” she asked her subjects. “That is the Everfree Forest, a fertile, if not dangerous, part of my kingdom. I have not held dominion over that part of my kingdom since I had to banish my sister to the moon centuries ago. Though she is no longer with us, her dark magic still radiates over that part of Equestria. Though there are many dangers there, I feel that there are several profitable opportunities to be had as well. That magic has affected the plant life, so I’m sure you could find some truly fascinating seeds there, Pokey Oaks. I bet you could turn quite a profit farming and seeding there, enough to pay off your debts for your crimes.”
Pokey Oaks’s jaw dropped as he dashed up to the edge of the balcony, looking down at the tree covered land before him. “Ya mean it?” he asked in awe, his voice raspy with disbelief.
The princess nodded regally at the display of gratitude. “I do mean it,” she explained as Pokey Oaks hastily kissed her hoof, much to the displeasure of his wife. “But I must tell you that it comes at a price. I shall repay your debts in full today to Mighty Rich, but now you will be working for me. If I see you falling into old financial habits, you will once again serve time in Foalsom Prison, and this land will be taken from you. And Mighty Rich, in exchange for the payment in full, I would like for you to keep a close watch over the Seed Family farm to ensure Pokey Oaks is doing as he is instructed. I want to see him turn a profit, and I want you to report to me regularly on everything that you see. Are you both in agreement?”
Smiling at the happy Seed Family, Mighty Rich bowed down to the regal princess. “It’d be an honor to be of service,” he said, hardly able to hide the giddiness in his voice. “And I have to thank ya kindly fer yer generosity toward all yer subjects. Ya really are as wise and compassionate as ya are lovely, even to a ‘wormy lil’ pencil neck’ like me. Right Pokey?”
He shot Pokey Oaks a teasing glance, chuckling cheerfully as the chained pony smiled and blushed at the earlier insult. The two began to laugh heartily at the loan pony’s sick sense of humor. “Aww, come here, ya ol’ pencil neck!” Pokey Oaks replied, throwing his hooves around Mighty Rich and squeezing him in a huge hug. “I ain’t ever gonna forget ya fer this! Never ever, ya hear!”
---------------
The news of Pokey Oaks newfound freedom made the Apple’s cheer out load. Granny Smith even smiled as she talked of the fair and just trial that helped free her father. “It was a right goodin’ of a trial,” Granny Smith explained as she remembered her father’s chains falling off with the help of unicorn magic. “All was goin’ so good as Mighty Rich shook hooves with mah daddy, them two talkin’ up a storm 'bout plans fer the future. ‘Course I was happier than a pig in fresh mud to have mah daddy back, but it all sorta faded away as we walked past the kitchen. Outta the corner of mah eye I saw that lil’ zebra boy chained up at the kitchen sink, and after that I just couldn’t shake why we got that trial in the first place.”
That night, Princess Celestia held a grand feast to celebrate the prosperous agreement that had been struck between the Seed’s and the Rich’s. All the Seeds were there, dressed richly in royal clothing that Princess Celestia had given them as they mingled with Canterlot’s elite. Joining them in equal splendor was Mighty Rich, his wife Opulent, and his three sons, Fairly Rich, Grossly Rich, and Stinking Rich.
Prairie Tune was invited on stage to play his Foalsom Prison Blues song that he had written for his father. Getting several encore requests from the crowd to continue singing, Prairie Tune soon began improvising bluesy riffs with the rest of the band. Before long the musicians began singing in turn, performing covers of popular Equestrian songs.
Prairie Tune did not mind sharing the spotlight with the fellow musicians. Just having the opportunity to help provide the evening’s entertainment in such a ritzy setting was a dream come true, only made better when one of the elites came to him afterward to talk about touring around Equestria with the band. The icing on the cake for him was seeing a pretty elite pony toss her room key at his feet while he was performing and give him a suggestive wink. Best night ever!
Happy Trails moved about the room with ease, recognizing repeat courier clients he had served several times. Those clients were eager to congratulate him and his family, many of them even more eager to get their hooves into what could become a potential investment opportunity. Should the Everfree Forest be full of profits, why not let somepony else do the work for them?
Being ever so good with names and faces, Happy Trails was eager to start striking up some deals. He was grateful that his old friend and army buddy, Fairly Rich, was tagging along with him. Fairly Rich was the eldest Rich boy and would soon be taking over the Building and Loan in Dodge City. Unlike Happy Trails, he was very good at talking about investments, stock options, loans, and anything else money related. The two boys soon had a table set up where they were making up a wide range of investment contracts and dreaming up all the profits they would share.
Stinking Rich had joined his older brother, Grossly Rich, who had taken to talking to the chefs preparing the lovely meal. Being a portly young man, Grossly Rich’s interests pertained more to food than to hob knobbing. He was looking to open his own general store, and if he could figure out how to package and redistribute this fancy palace food he was sure he could profit. That and the free samples left and right were suiting his tastes quite nicely.
While Grossly Rich was dreaming of high quality food products, Stinking Rich’s thoughts went to the idea of lucrative distribution options. Unfortunately for him, Stinking Rich was socially awkward at his age. The chef and his brother weren’t very eager to hear Stinking Rich’s crazy ideas. They were too busy gushing over the three foot high roasted zucchini tower that would soon be wheeled out to the table.
Everypony had to agree that each course was more fabulous than the last, and there were so many! Smithy had lost count of how many courses were served as the food and drink kept coming and coming, each course served by a well dressed, stoically expressioned zebra. All throughout the royal feast, Smithy’s thoughts kept creeping back to the zebra boy she met and ultimately helped the guards catch. What had he done that was so bad that the princess couldn’t forgive him too? Maybe he could come work for her family on the new farm property to pay off his debts to society too. If only she’d known what he had done. Than maybe she could get a chance to talk to the princess in private without all those officials swarming around her.
The more she thought about it, the more she realized that it would be best to hear the zebra’s side of the story first, this way she could judge for herself if he was a good pony or not, or even a pony at all. Seeing as how everypony was so busy talking amongst themselves, stuffing their faces, dancing to her brother’s music, or investing in the new farm with her other brother, Smithy decided that now was as good a time as any to have a talk with the zebra. Gathering up some of the feast food into her saddlebag as a peace offering, Smithy snuck out of the busy dining hall.
She followed the zebra that she remembered the princess addressing earlier. He was walking away with a tray full of dirty dishes, and Smithy assumed that he was headed to the kitchen. Surely enough, the zebra lead her right to where she wanted to go. She dashed behind a large potted plant so that she could watch what door he was going to go in. She saw him push open the kitchen door to deposit his dish load before walking out again.
Gingerly opening the kitchen door, she saw the sad little zebra boy standing at the sink with a heavy chain clasped to his neck. His chain had been attached to the sink so that he could not run away. The zebra boy let out an exhausted sigh at the sight of the large pile of dishes in front of him, not knowing where he was going to get the strength to continue working.
Looking out the window into the clear night sky, he began to sing softly to himself at the sight of a familiar constellation appearing near the mountains:
When the sun comes back, And the first quail calls, Follow the drinking gourd. For the old man is awaiting For to carry you to freedom If you follow the drinking gourd.
Follow the drinking gourd. Follow the drinking gourd. For the old man is awaiting For to carry you to freedom If you follow the drinking gourd.
Clapping her hooves enthusiastically against the floor, Smithy walked up to the zebra with a big smile on her face. “Well that was a right purdy song,” she smiled. “I reckon that there's a song 'bout doin’ the dishes, ain't it? Ya sure got a lotta drinkin’ gourds to wash.”
The zebra boy leapt around on his step stool, eyes wide at the brazen entrance. “YOU!” he bellowed, leaping from his step stool and charging full on to attack the green filly standing before him. He would have succeeded had it not been for the chain around his neck keeping him firmly attached to the sink.
Vainly thrashing out at the little filly cowering just out of hoof shot, the zebra let out his frustration and anger in the best way he could: verbally. “How dare you come back!” he bellowed. “Have you come to salt my wounded spirit? Can you be so cruel?”
Hoping to calm the zebra, Smithy slowly slipped off her saddlebag. “No,” she said apologetically as she slid the bag closer to the angry zebra. “I came to talk to ya. And to say I’m sorry. And to give ya somethin’ to eat. I thought maybe ya’d be hungry.”
Setting his hooves down on the ground, the zebra looked suspiciously at the offering. “How do I know that I can trust you?” he asked suspiciously, unable to stifle the grumbling sounds his stomach was making at the smell of the food.
Smithy giggled at the sound of his stomach, much to the zebra’s annoyance. “I guess y’ll just have to trust yer belly,” she replied, pushing the saddlebag close enough for him to reach.
Looking left and right to make sure no one was watching, the zebra boy cautiously grabbed the bag in his teeth. Bringing it to a corner near the sink where he could eat in peace, the zebra buried his head in the bag and began to eat.
Smithy smiled at the good deed she had done. From the way he was eating he must have been very hungry! As the zebra guzzled down his meal, Smithy trotted over to the sink. Hopping up on the step stool, she began to pump water into the sink.
The sound of the water running caused the zebra to pop his head out of the saddle bag. “What are you doing!?!” he exclaimed, wide eyed in fear and ignoring the crumbs on his face.
Rolling her eyes, Smithy plunged her hoofs into the soapy water. “I’m doin’ the dishes,” she explained. “I thought maybe ya could take a break fer a while.”
The zebra shook his head, looking around to see if any palace guards were looking. “Are you trying to get me caught again, you fool!” he exclaimed, scrambling to get up on the step stool. “What if they catch you? What if they catch me?”
Smithy didn’t understand what he meant. “Are ya not supposed to be doin’ the dishes?” she asked innocently.
The zebra put a hoof to his face in frustration. “I am supposed to do as I am told!” he tried to explain. “I have no choice! I am a slave!”
---------------
The word ‘slave’ shocked the Apple grandchildren. Applejack gawked wide eyed at her grandmother in disbelief. “What do ya mean ‘slave?’” she asked. “Wouldn’t Princess Celestia put a stop to somethin’ so awful?”
Granny Smith shook her head in disappointment. “She didn’t even know he was a slave,” she explained. “She had a whole mess of zebra slaves runnin’ ‘round under her feet and didn’t even know it. Powers behind the throne had her thinkin’ they was just migrant workers.”
Applejack shot Granny Smith a blasphemous look. “Oh come on, Granny!” she said. “How can she miss somethin’ so terrible right under her nose?”
Granny Smith let out a good natured laugh at the accusation. “She didn’t know what a parasprite was ‘til just recently, and she’s how old now?” she explained. “I ain’t sayin’ she’s a dummy. I’m just sayin’ she’s a might bit sheltered is all. Her political figureheads sure had a way of talkin’ to her just right to convince her that everythin’ was a-okay.”
---------------
Of course everything wasn’t a-okay, and Smithy hadn’t realized how not a-okay it was until the zebra boy had explained it to her. “I come from a land across the sea, a land you ponies call Zebrica,” he explained as Smithy stepped down from the sink to let him work. “Griffons came to my land one day, bringing ropes and nets and chains to gather us up. They threw us on a boat, where so many of us died on the journey. I lost my mother and my father on that boat. Only I and my sister, Kizzy, were to survive that boat, only to be separated and sold off to rich ponies in this land.”
Smithy had never heard something so awful in all her life, and felt terrible watching the zebra boy trying not to get emotional. “Golly,” she said softly. “I had no idea that’s what was goin’ on. Is that why I saw ya runnin’ away that night in the alley?”
The zebra nodded with closed eyes, which made Smithy feel terrible. Had she not been so stubborn he might have made it. “I’m so sorry,” she said, her head hung in shame. “If it makes ya feel any better, I did it ‘cause I lost mah daddy. He was in Foalsom Prison, and I when I saw them chains on ya I thought maybe ya knew a way out. I was so desperate fer answers that I was willin’ to try anythin’, or talk to anypony. I just missed mah daddy so much that I wasn’t thinkin’ clearly.”
The zebra looked at the grief on Smithy's face and could not help but understand the feeling. “So that is why you followed me and asked such questions,” he said in an understanding tone, watching her nod. “I must confess, had you any information about my sister I would have chased you as well. It is most difficult to lose one that you love so dearly.”
Though they had reached an understanding, there was still an awkward silence between them. Still feeling ashamed, Smithy lowered her gaze to the zebra at the sink. “So… what’s yer name?” she asked shyly, running her hoof along the floor.
Unable to hold back a small smile at the innocent question, the zebra glanced away from his dish duties. “My name is Bladire,” he said. “May I ask what is your name?”
Smithy blushed at the question, especially since the zebra’s name was so exotic and beautiful compared to hers. “It’s… Granny Smith,” she said, embarrassed by the chuckle Bladire made at her name. “Hey! It’s nothin’ to laugh ‘bout!”
Apologizing profusely, Bladire held up his hoofs to show no animosity. “I mean you no disrespect,” he explained, a smile on his face, “but such a name for one so young!”
Smithy smiled back as she thought about it. She really did hate that name. “Mah Grammy Gillyflower says I’ll grow into it one of these days,” she admitted, relieved to see a smile on the zebra’s face. “But ya can just call me Smithy. All mah friends do.”
The mention of friends almost stopped Bladire in his tracks. This pony who stood there smiling such a friendly smile at him, did she really see him as an equal? Unsure what to do, Bladire decided to take a risk and be playful by splashing some dish water at her. “Hey!” Smithy squealed, making Bladire laugh a bit.
He splashed her again, noticing a smile spreading across her face. “You do not like to play, Smithy?” he said as he splashed her again.
Smithy began to laugh along as she hopped up on the step stool next to her new friend. “Oh yeah!” she chuckled as she planted a hoof in the water, soaking the both of them as they erupted in laughter and not caring that she was ruining the expensive clothes Celestia had given her.
The laughter did not go unheard, especially for a certain adolescent stallion looking to make his way in the world. Having had no luck with the Canterlot elite, Stinking Rich peeked his pimply head into the kitchen to watch the pony and zebra playing in the dish water. “Smithy!” he exclaimed, running up to her. “What in Celestia’s name are ya doin’ playin’ with this filthy lil’ ziggler?”
Playtime was cut short as Stinking Rich knocked Smithy and Bladire down from the stool. Stinking Rich advanced upon Bladire with a superior smirk on his face. “And what makes ya think ya can behave like that, ya striped lil’ scum sucker?” he said, leaning his pimply face close as Bladire tried to cover his own face with his shaking hooves.
Bladire was terrified of getting in trouble again, remembering the painful punishment he had faced when he was caught trying to escape. “I am sorry, sir,” he apologized pathetically. “I had no meaning to misbehave, sir. Forgive me, sir. Please, sir.”
Stinking Rich laughed at the pathetic apology. “Well, that’s alright,” Stinking Rich cooed as he grabbed Bladire’s chain in his mouth to drag him along the floor. “Ya’ll can just clean up this here mess too!”
Smithy smacked Stinking Rich across the flank in Bladire’s defense. “Stop it!” she squeaked out. “It weren’t his fault! I came in here to talk to him! If anypony should be in trouble, it’s me! Now quit pickin' on him!”
Bladire had never seen somepony stand up for him before since the beginning of his slavery. While he was grateful for the defense, he winced as he watched Stinking Rich shove his new friend aside so roughly. What was worse is that he knew there was nothing he could do as Stinking Rich began to insult her.
Stinking Rich stood tall beside a meek Smithy, glad to have the upper hoof for the first time that night. “I could gettcha in so much trouble right now,” he chortled. “And I could get this lil’ ziggler wrecked up real good! Why they’d beat him up black and blue if they knew what y’all were doing in here.”
Smithy began to cry at the thought of Bladire being hurt again at her expense. “No!” she begged. “Why would they do such a thing? He didn’t do nothin’ wrong!”
Stinking Rich laughed at the display. “Yer so ignorant,” he said, rolling his eyes. “He’s a migrant worker, dummy! Zebras ain’t even ponies anyway. They’re right up there with cows and chickens. All they’re good fer is menial tasks. And when they don’t do what ya want, ya whoop ‘em like ya would a stubborn pig!” He laughed as he kicked Bladire in the backside with his hoof.
Smithy wrapped her front legs around Stinking Rich’s leg to stop the assault. “Please don’t do that! It ain’t his fault, honest!” she continued to cry, thinking about how much worse it could get. “Don’t let them guards hurt him! Please! I’ll do anythin’ if ya don’t tell on us! Anythin'!”
Stinking Rich liked this sudden idea for blackmail. “Anythin’?” he asked, his tone appropriately vile. “Well, I’m sure I can come up with somethin’ at some point, if yer willin’ to keep yer end of the bargain and not snivel off like yer father.”
Smithy hated the sound in Stinking Rich’s voice or the analogy he made about her father, but knew that if she didn’t agree to it that something terrible was bound to happen to Bladire. “Deal,” she said weakly as she shook hoofs with the bully, not realizing the emotional debts she had gotten herself into.
Smithy walked side by side with Stinking Rich as they walked back to the dining hall together, feeling bad that she hadn't gotten a chance to say "goodbye" or "I'm sorry" to her new friend, Bladire. She could only imagine what kind of torment was waiting for him with her not there. While she was glad it wouldn't be coming from Stinking Rich, she still had a sinking feeling that he wasn't going to get off scott free.
The two little ponies were greeted by the regal Celestia when they reentered. She smiled down upon them as they bowed down to her. "Ah, my faithful subjects," she addressed the two in a sweet tone. "Returning from a friendly walk, I see. It is a lovely night for it. The stars are spectacular tonight."
Stinking Rich was eager to steer the conversation in his favor. "Sure is, yer majesty!" he exclaimed, wrapping his leg around Smithy's shoulder so tightly that she began to squirm. "Me and Smithy here are real good friends now, and we had us a right good talk 'bout everythin' we've been through the past couple years. Didn't we, Smithy?"
Smithy had to hold back what she was thinking. She wanted to stop the party and start talking about Bladire, and tell everypony all of the terrible things he had told her that night. She wanted to show the lovely princess before her how the guards had chained Bladire up in the kitchen. She could have screamed it from the rooftops at this point, but one steely look from Stinking Rich put a stop to it. They had made a deal, and if she would have done what her heart was telling her to do, Bladire would have to face the consequences of her actions yet again like he had after that night in the alley.
Putting on a sweet smile, Smithy forced herself to hug Stinking Rich back. "Eeyup!" she lied, feeling the grilled zucchini she had eaten rising in her throat due to how sick she was making herself. "We're pals alright! Right as rainbows!"
Celestia was pleased with the answer, and showed it by patting both children on the heads. "It is so good to see that this family feuding is truly at an end," she declared. "Even the children are getting along wonderfully. This couldn't have ended better!"
Smithy took a deep breath to calm her nerves and stomach. While she knew for Bladire's sake that she had to hold her tongue, she couldn't hold her thoughts from wondering if this was just the beginning of something worse between the families.
Smithy followed her parents to breakfast the next morning, letting out an unladylike yawn as she trudged down the grand staircase. In her sleep deprived state of mind, she tripped on her own tail and fell forward, only to be caught by her father. "Careful now, darlin'," he said sweetly as he righted his daughter. "Don’t wanna fall off these here steps and bust yerself up in front of Princess Celestia."
Sew n' Sow dreaded the thought of any missteps in front of the royal pony. "Both y'all be on yer best behavior," she snapped. "This ain't no social visit. We were invited to dine private like this mornin' with Princess Celestia. That ain’t nothin' to sas 'bout!" Even with the royal pardon and the grant of land to make up Pokey Oaks debts, Sew n' Sow still wanted to make the best impression on the princess, even at the expense of her family’s comfort.
Smithy fought to suppress another yawn, but the unamused look on her mother's face proved that the attempt had failed. Her mother had awoken her before the sun rose to get everypony dressed nicely for breakfast. "How come I gotta do this?" she whined. "Prairie Tune and Happy Trails ain’t goin'."
Sew n’ Sow let out an exasperated huff at her daughter’s complaints. "They weren't in their beds this mornin'," she explained for what felt like the hundredth time. "If I knew where they were, they'd be here too, gussied up like the rest of us."
With a crabby groan, Smithy followed her mother's demands. It wasn't an easy thing to do since she hadn’t slept much the night before, making this breakfast meeting more of a chore than a peasantry. Her waking thoughts from last night were occupied by the consequences of making a deal with Stinking Rich, and what that deal would mean for her new friendship with Bladire. Even her dreams were infiltrated by her actions. She wasn't sure what Stinking Rich could want with her or when he would want it, but something told her it wasn't going to be a good thing.
Two royal guards opened the door to the banquet hall, revealing Princess Celestia seated at the head of the dining table in a fluffy pink bathrobe, her astral hair tied up in curlers that she had obviously slept in. Sitting around her was the Rich Family and some other well dressed ponies that the Seed's had never met.
Sitting on either side of the princess was Happy Trails and Fairly Rich, who decided to beat everypony to breakfast to make the best impression. They were both dressed in newly tailored business suits and looked better than anypony else in the room. They had brought with them stacks of papers with business proposals for everypony to look through, and each pony was paying close attention to the two well dressed ponies before they were interrupted by the newcomers.
Celestia perked up the moment she saw the Seed Family. "Don’t you all look nice this morning!" she chimed enthusiastically, waving her bunny slipper clad hoof gracefully in the air to encourage them forward. "I feel so under dressed this morning."
Sew n' Sow blushed deeply at the sudden recognition, embarrassed to be made a fool in front of what looked to be some very important ponies. "Beggin' yer pardon, yer highness," she said in a hurry to hide how she felt, her bow low enough to conceal the growing redness in her cheeks.
Celestia's musical laughter could be heard from the head of the table, followed by a chorus of the same from those seated around her. "Nonsense," she explained, watching her blushing subject come up from the floor. "It’s just breakfast, dear, and I hope you all like banana pancakes. The kitchen staff should be finished cooking them soon."
Sew n' Sow's blush only intensified as she looked back at Celestia. "Fergive our enthusiasm, yer majesty," she said as she and her husband and daughter looked for open seats. "We just remembered how nice last night was, and didn't know what ya had goin' on this mornin'."
Celestia chuckled cheerfully at her guest. "You have nothing to be ashamed of," she explained, much to Sew n' Sow's surprise. "Besides, your son and his business partner have been discussing some very interesting financial ideas with my royal council and I, a few of which we never even thought about investing in. You have a very bright boy, Mrs. Seed."
Taking a seat next to Happy Trails, Sew n’ Sow was relieved to know that her son had left a good enough impression to cover up for her shortcomings. “Thank ya kindly, yer highness," she gloated, embarrassing her middle child in the process. "He gets his brains from mah side of the family."
As she looked for a seat of her own, Smithy noticed how empty the room looked compared to the party held the night before. She looked around the room for Bladire, feeling disappointed that he was no where in sight. She was hoping for a chance to talk to him about last night's argument with them and Stinking Rich, but no such luck. She did notice Stinking Rich sitting next to his brothers at the table, and how he winked at her.
Seeing the little interaction between the two, Pokey Oaks led his daughter to an open seat next to Stinking Rich. "Daddy, I don't wanna sit there," Smithy muttered under her breath, struggling as she was pushed up to the table.
Pulling out the chair for his daughter, Pokey Oaks picked Smithy up by the scruff of her neck and plopped her down. "Mind yer manners," he whispered as he pushed the chair up to the table. "Don’t wanna get yer mama upset now, do ya?"
Smithy held her breath as Stinking Rich said his good morning to her. "Hi," she said bitterly, her teeth clenched as she avoided looking at him.
Stinking Rich noticed the cold behavior, and tried to break the ice by poking Smithy in the shoulder. "Say, ya ain’t still sore with me from last night, are ya?" he coaxed, noticing Smithy nod sourly in response. "Come on. This ain't how to treat a friend."
Smithy fought to not look over at the pony next to her, focusing instead on the delicately folded napkin in front of her. "We ain’t friends," she said under her breath, ruining the neat folds with her harsh handling.
Stinking Rich leaned in close to Smithy’s ear. "I reckon we're better friends than ya'd think," he whispered, egging her on. "Just remember, I gotcha outta trouble last night when ya were splashin' 'round with that ziggler. Things could've got a lot worse off iff'n I hadn’t found ya first."
For the first time that morning, Smithy looked at that turd eating grin on Stinking Rich’s face. "I can handle mahself," she grunted quietly.
Stinking Rich knew that she was putting up a tough front, but she was fun to heckle. Unlike many of the other ponies he was often around, Smithy didn’t make him feel inferior. He liked feeling like he was better than her, and was excited to get under her skin to show his superiority to the important ponies present. "Is that right," he replied, watching her nodding like a stubborn filly defending a lie. "Then iff'n ya know so much, tell me who these here folks are sittin' 'round the table with the family."
Smithy looked at the other well dressed ponies she hadn’t meet before. "What difference does it make?" she said, defiant in her response.
Stinking Rich’s expression changed from superior to stupefied, his eyes widening and his grin replaced with a confused gawk. "Yer jokin', right?" he asked, getting the same stubborn response from Smithy. "Don’t ya read the papers?"
Smithy rolled her eyes at Stinking Rich’s accusation. "Sometimes I read the funny pages," she replied, watching Stinking Rich rest a hoof on his forehead and shake his head in shame.
While Stinking Rich had started the conversation to make Smithy think he was smarter than her, he was completely surprised by her lack of knowledge about the world around her. "Ya at least know who Chairman Carpet Bag is, right?" he said, pointing to a yellow earth pony with a black, slicked back mane. "He's the pony who kept Equestria from war with the Griffon Kingdom durin' the union drought. That's the same drought that bankrupted yer family, remember? He ended that with creatin' better irrigation! Ya gotta know that!"
Smithy looked at the handsome chairman, who winked back at her. "I ain’t ever seen him before, and I don't know what yer talkin' 'bout," she replied, waving a friendly hoof at Chairman Carpet Bag. "What’s he gotta do with me takin' care of mahself?"
Stinking Rich passed his newspaper over to Smithy so that she could see what she was missing. "I guess yer slower than I took ya fer after all," he said as he opened the paper to an article about a speech scheduled for Chairman Carpet Bag for this afternoon in the royal courtyard. "As a sign of friendship, I'm gonna give ya the chance to learn fer yerself what all ya've been missin' out on."
Smithy was put off by the sudden civility, and by the new information she was presented with. "We ain’t friends," she said, scanning the papers for answers. "And just 'cause he's famous don't mean I gotta care neither."
Stinking Rich was disappointed that he wasn't able to accomplish his goal of winning a debate in front of the political ponies and impressing them. "There’s a lot more than Funky Winkerbean goin' on in the papers that ya outta read 'bout," he said, pointing to an article about Smithy and her family’s land grant near the Everfree Forest. "It's like mah daddy always says: Ya ain't got no right to complain iff'n ya don't know what's goin' on 'round ya. Somepony's likely to take advantage of ya."
Smithy let out an offended grumble as she picked up the paper. "Yer one to talk," she muttered under her breath.
Stinking Rich opened the paper so that he and Smithy could hide behind it and whisper to each other. "Yer one who outta listen'," he replied, his tone shifting to one of genuine concern. "Chairman Carpet Bag's a real important pony right here, and he knows a thing or two 'bout everythin' that's goin' on in yer life. Best ya better learn more 'bout him fer yer own sake."
The conversation between Stinking Rich and Smithy was cut short as Prairie Tune came pouring into the dining hall, supported by a pretty mare that he had spent the night with. "Mornin'," he said, tipping his hat to reveal bloodshot eyes and a smile of deep satisfaction spread across his stubbly face. "Sorry I'm late fer breakfast. Me and Diamond here were a lil' busy catchin' up this morning."
The mare gasped, offended at Prairie Tune. "That is not my name!" she exclaimed, lowering her eyebrows in anger.
Prairie Tune stared back at her, slack jawed and confused by her response. "Uh, don't tell me, Pearl?" he guessed incorrectly. "Ruby? No, that was the gal before ya. Emerald? It's Emerald, ain’t it?"
Prairie Tune's date slapped him across the face. "It’s Peridot, you colossal jerk!" she huffed, nose in the air as she trotted across the room and out the door.
The room fell silent as everypony glared their judgments at Prairie Tune, who couldn't care less what they thought. He just let out a deep breath as he rubbed the spot where Peridot slapped him. "Huh, women," he teased, watching his brother bury his embarrassed face in his paperwork.
Princess Celestia gently cleared her throat to help break the tension in the room. "It’s good to see that I'm not the only one who slept in this morning," she started, getting an uncomfortably suggestive wink from Prairie Tune. "And my staff has excellent timing as always. Please, help yourselves to whatever you like."
A slew of zebras approached the table with trays of banana pancakes and a wide variety of toppings for everypony to choose from. While it all smelled appetizing enough, Smithy was paying more attention to the staff than the food. She was looking through the stoic servers for one in particular, and was happy to finally find who she was looking for carrying a carafe of syrup in his mouth.
Bladire’s eyes widened with apprehension as soon as he saw Smithy seated next to Stinking Rich. He stood back, frozen to the spot, his teeth chattering against the handle of the carafe. He watched her wave at him from across the room before slowly walking backwards into the kitchen.
Smithy didn’t understand why Bladire was behaving like he was. She watched the kitchen door swing back and forth on its hinges, hoping to catch a glimpse of what was wrong. She got her chance as she watched a much older zebra push Bladire out of the kitchen, Bladire shaking his head and spilling syrup on the floor as he was pushed up to Princess Celestia.
The older zebra bowed before her in apology, shooting Bladire a commanding look to do the same. "My pardons, your highness," he apologized, watching as even more syrup poured out clumsily from Bladire’s bow. "The boy is new, and is learning. I shall see that his messes be cleaned right away."
Celestia smiled upon them both. "Alabaster, you really fret over me too much," she complimented the older zebra. "I’m sure with time and your supervision, he'll do just fine."
Alabaster took the compliment with a rehearsed smile. "You are too kind, your grace," he said demurely, tapping Bladire in the ankle to indicate that he should behave in the same manner. "Is there anything else that you may need?"
Celestia kneeled her head down towards Bladire, who cowered in the presence of the oversize pony. "I would love some syrup," she said with a playful wink. "And if I may, young man, may I ask what your name is?"
Bladire gulped back his nerves as he placed the sticky, nearly empty carafe on the table. "Bladire is my name," he mumbled quickly, pressing his nose into a glob of syrup on the floor as he bowed in the way Alabaster had taught him.
Celestia used her magic to pass him a napkin as soon as she saw him stand up with a glob of syrup on his face. "I hope you enjoy your stay with us," she said pleasantly, getting a cool response from Bladire. "From what I hear, your home country is sending more immigrants to Equestria by the day in search of a better life. I hope that you can find my castle a wonderful place to call home."
As Bladire wiped his nose with the napkin, he noticed Smithy trying to get his attention again by her waving. He slowly shook his head with an even look on his face. "You have a fine home, your highness,” he said in a flat tone as he set the napkin down on the table before walking quickly back to the kitchen.
Smithy watched Bladire flee from the banquet hall, wondering what was wrong. She began to push her seat back to check on him, but was quickly stopped by Stinking Rich. "Yer better off stayin' put,” he said in a low, commanding voice.
Smithy tried pushing the chair away from the table again, only to be held back. "Ya ain’t the boss of me," she said in defiance.
Stinking Rich raised the newspaper back up to shield the two of them. "I know it don't look like it, but I got our best interests in mind," he begged, much to Smithy’s surprise. “Do us both a favor and leave that ziggler be."
While everything in Smithy begged to leap out of her chair to check up on her friend, she could see by the way he was behaving that now was not the time for action. With a sorry sigh, she decided to drop the subject for now and resume it later when she and Bladire could be alone.
Chairman Carpet Bag took a sip of his coffee before starting into his breakfast. "So, Mr. Seed, I was told that you and your family will be taking the land we were looking to experiment with," he began, taking a bite of his pancakes.
Pokey Oaks nodded happily, using his delicate napkin like a dish towel on his butter covered face. "We sure as sugar are!" he exclaimed, wrapping a proud arm around Smithy. "Mah kin and I are gonna make a fine livin' out there, just ya wait and see."
Finding Pokey Oaks's enthusiasm endearing, Chairman Carpet Bag passed him a page of Happy Trails’s presentation. "Your son and his assistant seem to think there could be valuable resources hidden away from society in the forest," he said, watching Pokey Oaks scratch his head over the vocabulary and elaborate drawings. "The money we make off of your repayment could mean great prosperity for Equestria. It's going to be a big responsibility, but I have a feeling just by what I see in you that you are eager to tackle it."
Pokey Oaks couldn’t wait to show what he was capable of. "Chairman, yer lookin' at the best seedin' pony this side of Dodge City!" he exclaimed proudly. "Princess Celestia told me how I'll be able to find y'all a whole mess of seeds that ya can be usin'."
Chairman Carpet Bag was pleased to hear how eager Pokey Oaks was to get to work. "I know we can expect great things from you and your family, at least most of it anyway," he commented as he watched Prairie Tune kick his feet up on the table and belch loudly. "Should you need assistance with your endeavors, we would be happy to send some migrant workers out to your new property to assist you."
Smithy perked her ears up at the possibility of her father taking the offer, and of being able to pick Bladire. She watched Pokey Oaks grinning from ear to ear at the friendly politician. "Golly, that's awful big of ya,” her father replied, "but I gotta keep up mah end of the bargain with Princess Celestia. She said it's mah job to make that land thrive, and nopony else's. I can't be puttin' somepony else out on a count of mah laziness. Wouldn't be fair to Mighty Rich or Princess Celestia." While hearing what her father had to say was a justified thing, Smithy couldn't help feeling bad for losing an opportunity to take back Bladire.
Chairman Carpet Bag smiled as he took back the piece of paper from Pokey Oaks. "You seem like a man of principal, and I can greatly respect that," he said, putting the papers back in order. "Should you ever need assistance, please do not hesitate to ask. We want to see this land of yours thrive just as much as you would."
Smithy was tempted to speak her mind, but Stinking Rich rested his hoof on hers to stop her. "Before ya go shootin' yer mouth off on somethin' ya ain’t got the know how on, yer better off waitin'," he whispered in her ear. “I"m gonna go to the speech this afternoon in the courtyard. Why don't ya come on with me and learn a thing or two."
Smithy’s eyes widened at the possibility. If this chairman really did have some kind of effect on her life, perhaps it would be in her best interest to hear him speak. "So why the sudden interest in mah welfare?” she asked. “Last night it was all 'bout yerself."
Stinking Rich smiled as he listened to Smithy’s concerns. "I always knew ya were simple," he replied casually, "but I never knew ya were this outta touch with reality. Seems like a waste of a perfectly good head-full to not help ya out. It's like mah dad always says: A head's like a field. Ya reap what ya sow, so ya better plant something worth while. I just wanna give ya a couple good seeds fer yer thinker."
Watching Bladire reenter the room with an intimidated look on his face, Smithy began to wonder if there was more to this offer than meets the eye. "I might,” she replied as Bladire cowered before Alabaster for doing something incorrectly. "Might be nice to get me some answers fer a change..."
---------------
Granny Smith showed her grandchildren the newspaper from that morning folded up in her scrapbook. “Ya know, he had a real good point," she said, letting Big Macintosh read the front page headline. “I should've taken his advice a long time ago and read up on what was goin' on in the world, but I was too bull headed to do that."
Big Macintosh scanned the article about the speech in the royal courtyard. "Sounds like this here fella had somethin' important to say," he observed before turning to the article about his family acquiring the land that he knew today as Sweet Apple Acres. "Did ya end up goin'?"
Granny Smith nodded her head as she thought about going with Stinking Rich to the speech. "I sure did, but fer the life of me, I couldn't tell ya what that chairman had to say," she replied. "Mah mind was far from wantin' to listen to a bunch of number crunchin' and big promises. I was more thinkin' 'bout what happened that mornin' with Bladire."
Stinking Rich had put on a very nice outfit before he came to the Seed's room, hoping to make a good impression upon the family. After seeing his brother doing the same this morning, he thought it best to try the technique out for himself. Given his history with the Seed's, getting on their good side was well worth the effort. He just hadn't expected the weather to be as hot as it was.
He nervously knocked on the door, beads of sweat pouring down his pimples as he waited for the door to open. It wasn’t like this was a date or anything, so why was he feeling so nervous? He was just trying to prove a point, and with as much of the Equestrian government backing this Everfree Forest project, it was best for him to start getting in the Seed Family's good graces.
Sew n' Sow opened the door with a big smile on her face. "Now don’t ya look nice, Stinkin' Rich," she said, tussling his hair affectionately. "Smithy’s been talking 'bout this date of yers ever since breakfast this mornin'. It's just been the cutest lil' thing I ever seen!"
Stinking Rich ran his hoof through his greasy hair, angry that the effort he'd made on it was ruined in a matter of minutes. "Uh, this ain’t a date, Mrs. Seed," he tried to explain as calmly as he could in spite of how frustrated he was feeling. "I’m just gonna take Smithy to hear a political speech is all. She really needs some information in her life. I was real surprised she’d never even heard of Chairman Carpet Bag before, let alone read much of the papers. Where’d she get her know how from before that?"
While Sew n’ Sow was a little bit insulted by the comment, she knew she wasn't the best pony for keeping up with the news. "We've had it kinda hard, youngin'," she said in her defense. "Some nights, the only thing a newspaper was good fer was lightin' a fire. When gettin' to see tomorrow is all ya can think 'bout, learnin' new stuff is kinda like a luxury."
Having not thought about that, Stinking Rich immediately regretted saying what he had. He knew he had a bad habit of speaking before thinking about what he was going to say, and that this habit of his wasn't doing him any favors. "Well, don't ya worry no more, Mrs. Seed," he apologized, trying to get back on her good side. "Me and mah family are gonna do everythin' we can to help yer family get them luxuries. That's why I'm takin' Smithy to see Chairman Carpet Bag's speech today. I got a real good feelin' she's gonna learn a lot."
Pleased with the response, Sew n’ Sow wrapped a motherly arm around Stinking Rich’s shoulders. "That’s mighty neighborly of ya," she said, smiling appreciatively. "I always wanted to give mah kin the best, but I never could 'til now. As much as this is gonna sound crazy, and don't tell nopony else I said this, but I'm gettin' the feelin' Pokey Oaks gettin' arrested was the best thing that ever happened to us."
Smithy interrupted her mother's conversation. "What are y'all talking 'bout?" she asked, noticing her mother speaking in a low voice with Stinking Rich and catching a few of the words.
Sew n' Sow straightened herself out, doing her best to look like she wasn't hiding something from her daughter. "Just tryin' to figure out what y'all had planned fer this date of yers," she lied. "A mama’s gotta make sure her lil' girl is bein' treated like a lady."
Smithy rolled her eyes at her mother's gushing. "This ain't no date!" she exclaimed, ignoring Stinking Rich’s nod of agreement. "We're just gonna go watch a pony talk 'bout stuff in the papers is all. Stinkin' Rich made a big fuss 'bout it this mornin', so I'm goin' so he'll shut up 'bout it."
Sew n' Sow chuckled at her daughter’s hardened display. "Mind yer manners," she demanded as she helped Smithy tie her bonnet on with a neat bow. "He’s doin’ ya a real nice favor. Least ya could do is be polite and try havin' a good time."
Giving up on the conversation with her mother, Smithy begrudgedly walked up to her escort so she could get this visit over with. "Hi, Stinkin' Rich," she said in what felt like a flat, rehearsed tone. "Thanks fer takin' me out."
Ignoring the lack of enthusiasm, Stinking Rich put on a winning smile. "Ya ain’t gonna regret hearin' Chairman Carpet Bag speak today," he said excitedly, a pep in his step as he led Smithy out of the room. "Best part is, we can read all 'bout it in tomorrow's paper together and see if the reporters are any good."
Sew n’ Sow stuck her head out the door and waved at the children as they walked down the hallway. "Y'all have fun!" she shouted so loud that a few guards turned their attention to her. "Be safe out there, and don't talk to no strangers, and iff'n ya get scared just come right on back now, ya hear!"
Smithy blushed as one of the guards asked her mother to watch her volume. "Yes, mama," she replied as they turned the corner, too embarrassed by Sew n’ Sow's loud concerns.
Smithy cringed in embarrassment as she heard 'Mama loves ya, sugar cube!' echoing around the corridor. "She’s gotta way of worryin'," Smithy tried to explain as she heard the guards complaints coming from the direction of her family’s room.
Stinking Rich giggled at his companion, which she did not appreciate. "Lighten up, would ya?" he teased. "Mama’s are gonna do stuff like that. Mine made a big to do 'bout goin' to breakfast this mornin', but iff'n I hadn’t, I'd never found out that ya didn’t know the first thing 'bout keepin' up on the news."
Smithy rolled her eyes at the small talk. "Just cut the act," she said, grabbing Stinking Rich by the tail and spinning him around to face her. "Knowin' ya, I just gotta feelin' there's more to this than what yer sayin'."
Stinking Rich cocked a half smile as he looked down his nose at Smithy. "I guess ya really wouldn’t know a helpin' hoof iff'n it swatted ya on the rump," he said, watching her begin to fume.
Smithy took the insult as a threat and pushed Stinking Rich away. "I ain’t stupid!" she shouted, mad to feel tears welling up in her eyes.
Brushing off the assault as a simple temper tantrum, Stinking Rich quickly regained his composure. "No, ya ain’t stupid," he began to explain, watching Smithy fighting with her emotions. "Yer just ignorant is all. I saw that this mornin' at the breakfast table, and I saw it last night when I caught ya with that ziggler. Ya've always been ignorant of what's going on 'round ya, and iff'n I gotta be honest, I'm startin' to feel kinda sorry fer ya."
Sniffling back tears of frustration, Smithy was enraged by what Stinking Rich had to say. "Ya got nothin' to feel sorry 'bout," she replied, one of the welled up tears leaking out onto her cheek. "I can get along just fine on mah own, and I can be friends with anypony I want. Just ya wait and see."
Stinking Rich rolled his eyes at Smithy's bad behavior. "I hope fer yer sake ya can," he said, watching her as new tears of frustration formed. "Things are gonna change fer both of us now that yer daddy got that land. Change can be scary, and iff'n ya don't know what's goin' on 'round ya, yer gonna come off like yer dumb as a post."
Smithy eyed the serious look on Stinking Rich’s face. "Why are ya so worried ‘bout it?" she asked, still having her suspicion. "It ain’t like we're gonna see much of each other after we move to the Everfree Forest. After we settle in and grab Grammy Gillyflower from Dodge City, I'll never have to see ya again!”
Stinking Rich looked upon Smithy with sympathy. "Oh heavens," he said, a hint of sadness creeping into his voice. "Ya didn’t read what happened to her in the newspaper obituaries, did ya?"
Smithy crossed her arms and gave Stinking Rich a sour look. "I didn’t know she was in the papers iff'n that's what yer tryin' to say," she huffed like the stubborn filly that she was. "She must have done something real special to get in the papers, but she's always been a real special pony. All I know is she's been waitin' on us to send word to come on home."
Stinking Rich wasn't looking forward to being the bearer of bad news. "Don’t ya know what an obituary is?" he asked, watching Smithy shake her head like a stubborn mule. "It’s... it's when the town party ponies write to the papers 'bout funeral announcements."
Smithy’s stubborn stance melted away when she took in the news. "That can't be true!" she began to bawl. “Grammy Gillyflower is waiting fer us in Dodge City!"
Trying to wipe away the tears with his handkerchief, Stinking Rich tried to soften his tone to get through to her. "I’m sorry, but I thought ya knew," he explained as Smithy continued to cry. "Do yer folks even know yet?"
Smithy didn’t know, nor did she care, if the rest of her family knew what happened to Grammy Gillyflower. All she knew was how hurt she felt, and how much she was hoping that Stinking Rich was lying. "Why would the newspapers print somethin' like that?" she asked, feeling Stinking Rich drying her cheeks with his handkerchief. "Why would anypony wanna read 'bout somepony dyin'? That's so morbid!"
Letting Smithy rest her crying head against his shoulders, Stinking Rich awkwardly tried his best to comfort her. "See, this is just one reason why it's important to read the papers," he said, feeling a fresh stream of angry tears wet down his suit. "Iff'n ya don’t know what’s goin' on 'round ya, yer bound to get hurt."
Smithy took Stinking Rich’s handkerchief and blew her nose loudly on it. "I wanna see where it says in the newspaper that mah Grammy's dead," she sniffled, trying to regain her composure.
Taking back the soiled handkerchief, Stinking Rich tried his best to stifle his disgust for Smithy’s sake. "The Canterlot Library keeps papers on file fer a couple months," he explained. "Iff'n ya wanna go there later on, I can take ya. It'd be a good chance to learn more 'bout readin' the papers."
Smithy wiped away the last of her tears as she listened to the offer. "Why are ya tryin' to be nice all the sudden?" she whimpered, taking a deep breath to steady herself.
Stinking Rich was all to happy to answer. "Have yerself a good look at some of these here paintin's and stained glass windows fer a good example," he replied, standing beside Smithy to guide her attention. "These here folk got to be what they are 'cause of their skills, their work ethic, and most important, their good reputations with other ponies. Get what I'm sayin'?"
Smithy shook her head as she looked at the paintings and colorful windows decorating the walls. "What do they gotta do with us?" she asked.
Stinking Rich shook his head, sighing his own frustration. "They’re an example of what we can be fer each other," he tried to explain in a dumbed down manner, pointing to a painting of the three pony races getting along in harmony. "Look, I know we ain’t always got on with each other, but with what's bound to happen, we aught to bury the hatchet. I want to be successful just like everypony else in mah family is, and ya should want that too."
Smithy wasn’t prepared for this. She saw what looked like a scared young man standing in the empty hallway, a puny excuse for a pony compared to the elaborate paintings and windows of ponies performing grand, important tasks. "Yer afraid, ain’t ya?" she said, taking a curious step closer to see if she was right.
Stinking Rich took a deep breath to calm his nerves. "Ain’t nothin’ wrong with a lil' fear," he answered, trying to turn his weakness into a strength. "Fear keeps ya alive after all, but bein' prepared to stay that way is just as important. Between the two of us, we got lots to work on."
Smithy was starting to feel a little bit better about talking to Stinking Rich, but she still didn't understand everything he was saying. It all seemed so foreign to her compared to the lifestyle she had grown used to. "So yer really that worried 'bout me makin’ a fool outta mahself?" she asked.
Stinking Rich nodded heartily, glad to finally be making some leeway. "Ya outta be more worried 'bout it yerself," he replied. "And speakin' of makin' fools of ourselves, we don't wanna be late fer the speech."
Behaving like a gangly gentleman, Stinking Rich opened a door to the courtyard. "Ladies first," he said, a genuine smile crossing his pimply face.
Smithy shielded her eyes from the bright, sunlit courtyard. She could see ponies sitting on the ground in front of a grandly decorated wooden stage, waiting for the speech to begin. She also noticed food vendor ponies selling their treats, souvenir peddlers looking to cash in on the speech, and a few intense debates going on between spectators. She was genuinely intimidated by the mass amount of what she saw, but felt more comfortable when Stinking Rich offered her his hoof to hold. "Thanks," she said as they crossed the safety of the threshold together and entered into the chaos of the courtyard.
Smiling as if he had won something, Stinking Rich lead Smithy through the packed crowd. "What are friends supposed to be fer?" he replied, having to shout over the sound of the crowd. "Now quit standin' there like a bump on a log. We're gonna miss out on the good spots!"
Stinking Rich and Smithy had to find new seats several times because of rude ponies shoving them or bigger ponies sitting in front of them. They were just minutes away from the speech starting when they found a spot crammed up next to a topiary bush.
Smithy squirmed as the sharp branches poked her. "Can’t we just climb up a tree or somethin'?" she squealed as a particularly sharp branch scratched her flank.
Annoyed by the petty complaints, Stinking Rich took his jacket off and flung it over the topiary. "There, that outta keep it from scratchin' ya up," he replied sharply. "Now quit yer belly achin' and pay attention! The speech is gonna start any second!"
Just the mention of bellies got Smithy’s rumbling. She could smell the fried apple petals stand from where they were sitting, and hadn’t realized how long it had been since breakfast. "Think we got enough time fer a snack?" she asked, watching the food vendor pass a bag of hot fried apple petals fresh from the fryer to a hungry customer.
After an afternoon of buttering up to the Seed's, dealing with Smithy’s sour attitude, and battling crowds, Stinking Rich was quickly losing his temper. "We’re 'bout to listen to one of the most influential ponies of our time, and all ya can think 'bout is yer stomach?" he exclaimed, annoyed that his own stomach had picked that time to start rumbling.
Giving up on argument before it could escalate, he dug a few bits out of his pocket. "Fine, get two, and hurry back before ya miss too much!"
Smithy eagerly stood in the fried apple petals line, watching the dough covered apple slices bob up and down in the hot cooking oil. She was so focused on the food cooking that the crowd's thunderous applause caught her by surprise. She watched as Chairman Carpet Bag approached the stand in the middle of the stage, smiling and waving to the crowd as if he was on top of the world.
Smithy listened to the crowd die down as Chairman Carpet Bag began his speech. "My fellow Equestrians," he started, "I come to you today with news of peace and prosperity from our newest allies, the Griffon Kingdom!"
The crowd once again exploded with applause, and Smithy couldn’t help joining in with the intense energy of the crowd. Chairman Carpet Bag was a much more dynamic speaker than she was anticipating, and the excitement of the crowd was infectious. Maybe there really was something to be had with this keeping up with the news business.
The new found fascination with the chairman was cut short by the food vendor pony. "Miss," he said, tapping Smithy on the head to get her attention. "What can I make for you?"
Snapped out of the grandeur of the speech, Smithy plopped down the bits that Stinking Rich had given her. "Two, please," she requested, watching the food vendor drop two orders of apple petals into the cooking oil.
As the food bubbled and fried, Smithy paid her attention back to the chairman’s speaking. "Equestria is on the verge of greatness now that we have a means of paying our debts to the Griffon Kingdom, who held Equestria in its iron talons for far too long," he continued, random ponies in the crowd shouting out praises. "Thanks to an alliance with the Zebrican Nation, we have found a means of peace and prosperity, helping migrant workers make a life for themselves while helping Equestria in the process!"
Once again, Smithy’s spectating was cut short by the food vendor. He passed her two paper bags full of delicious smelling food. She thanked him as she grabbed the bags in her teeth, eager to get back to her seat and listen to more of the speech.
It was hard to pay attention to anything that was said in the speech as Smithy tried to maneuver around the tightly packed crowd. No matter where she turned, she was bumped into or cursed at for bumping into somepony. One particularly big pony backed into her, knocking her into the hedges.
Smithy struggled to get out of the thick hedge bush, squirming uncomfortably at the poking parts. She was surprised to feel something wrap around her waist and began pulling her in. She kicked and screamed in vain, dropping her bags of fried food as the crowd let out another loud cheer.
Emerging on the other side of the hedge bush, Smithy began flailing her arms around madly until she hit something. She heard a voice shout out in pain, only to find that the voice belonged to Bladire. "Oh mah stars, are ya alright!" she apologized when she noticed that she had smacked him upside his head.
Bladire was quick to hush her. "Keep low," he explained as he reached through the bushes again for the dropped bags of food. "I will guide you back to your place."
Smithy was just too happy to see Bladire that she threw her arms around him. "I'm so glad yer here!" she said, noticing the cold response from her friend. "What’s wrong?"
Bladire looked away, blushing from the attention. "I am also happy to see you again," he admitted, "but these circumstances are not to our advantage. Please, we must be quick."
Staying low to the ground, Smithy followed Bladire along the edge of the bushes. "So, what do ya think of the speech so far?" she asked, hoping to break the ice.
Bladire sighed as he heard the crowd cheer again. "It is not for me to say," he commented, hoping not to rile up his friend. "Your friend is wise to have brought you here to make your own thoughts. You would benefit from listening to him."
Smithy stopped in her tracks. "Wait, ya mean Stinkin' Rich?" she gasped, dropping the bags of food again.
Bladire nodded as he resumed his search for Stinking Rich. "It is best that you are aware of the world around you, and the circumstances our friendship holds," he explained.
Once again, Smithy stopped. She grabbed Bladire by the tail to get his attention. "Hang on," she demanded, waiting for him to turn around and face her. "How do ya know what me and Stinkin' Rich were talkin' 'bout?"
Bladire let out a deep breath, thinking back to the chores he was doing that let him overhear the conversation. "I was sweeping a room when I heard you crying," he explained. "I am sorry for the loss of your grandmother."
Remembering hearing the news herself, Smithy looked sadly down at the ground. "Ain’t yer fault," she mumbled, a tear making its way out.
Bladire brushed the tear away, feeling sorry for her. "Nor is it yours for not knowing," he said, "but now that you know better, I will do my best not to burden you any longer."
Smithy rested her hoof on his and looked him in the eye. "Now why would ya go and think a silly thing like that," she smiled for him. "Besides, I've been wantin' to talk 'bout last night. I didn't want there to be any grief between us, even if Stinkin' Rich thinks there should be."
Bladire was astonished to hear this. "Are you certain this is the best choice?" he asked, a bit afraid to be asking. "What about your reputation? And his? Ponies and zebras are not friends in this land, and I do not wish for our friendship to ruin you."
Smithy smiled as she rolled her eyes. "Let Stinkin' Rich worry all he likes," she replied. "That’s his problems, not mine. I ain’t scared of bein' friends with somepony different, 'specially one as nice as y'all."
Bladire brushed at the compliment since he so rarely got them anymore. "I only wish that I was not so afraid of our friendship," he said as the crowd behind him began chanting the chairman's name. "It is best that we be going. I do not know how much more the chairman has to say."
Smithy leaned close to Bladire as they approached the topiary bush where Stinking Rich was waiting for her. "Friendship ain’t somethin' yer supposed to be scared of," she said with a big smile on her face. "It's just supposed to be."
Bladire was touched by Smithy’s words, but felt as though the emotion of the moment had more to do with their affections for each other than anything. "Have you been paying attention to what the chairman has been saying?" he asked as he looked for an opening in the topiary bush big enough for Smithy to crawl through.
Smithy giggled at the nervous zebra. "I’m gonna be readin' 'bout it in tomorrow's paper anyhow, so I ain’t worried over what I might've missed," she explained with a friendly smile. "Maybe we can meet up and talk it over when I'm done. I bet ya could use some learnin' too."
Bladire smiled genuinely for the first time that day. "You would do that for me?" he asked, knowing that slaves were not often educated in the goings on in Equestria.
On the other side of the topiary bush, Stinking Rich could be heard rustling around in the foliage. "Smithy? I that y'all?" he asked, reaching through the bush for her.
In a panic, Bladire pushed Smithy into the bush. "Be well, my friend," he said quickly, letting Stinking Rich grab hold of her and pull her through.
Stinking Rich was relieved to see Smithy had come back, even if she did look like a mess. "Where on earth have ya been?" he asked as the crowd began to disburse. "Ya missed out on the speech. I'm real disappointed in ya right now."
Smithy looked at the annoyance in Stinking Rich’s eyes, feeling like she was in some sort of trouble. "The line fer the food was really long," she lied, keeping a straight face to hide the truth. "Besides, I heard that speech just fine from the food line."
Stinking Rich looked Smithy over from top to bottom. "Where's the food then?" he asked, hoping to corner her.
Realizing that she was missing the bags of fried apple petals, Smithy frantically looked in the bushes. To her relief, they were sitting near where she had been pulled through. "Here," she said, tossing a bag at Stinking Rich’s feet. "Eat up."
To avoid having to explain herself further, Smithy dug her face into her own bag of fried apple petals, only to be disappointed that they were now cold and unappealing. This seemed to be happening more frequently with her food than she would have wanted to admit.
With the snack out of the way, Stinking Rich wadded up the greasy bags. "Let's get to the library," he ordered. "I don’t wanna have today be a total bust."
While aggravated to the point of just wanting to go back to her room, Smithy knew she had to keep up her story. She followed Stinking Rich through the busy crowd, hoping that he could lead her to some generally useful information. As they fought their way through the tightly packed crowd, Smithy could have sworn that she saw Bladire checking in on her from the sidelines.
The next two weeks flew by as preparations were made for the move to the edge of the Everfree Forest. Sew n’ Sow and Pokey Oaks spent most of that time in a blur of excitement over last minute preparations for their move with their children. While making sure the essentials were in order was their top priority, they often stopped to daydream together about their plans for their new home. Often they were spotted gazing at the distant land from the balcony of their room like a pair of newlyweds looking to the future.
Happy Trails and Fairly Rich were busy making sure that they wouldn't lose track of each other or the money that the elite ponies of Canterlot invested in the property near the Everfree Forest. Since Fairly Rich was his father's apprentice, he felt it best to keep all money and documents safe at the Dodge City Building and Loan. Happy Trails couldn’t agree more, especially since the idea of traveling with that much money in a rickety wagon made him feel like a sitting duck for robbers.
Prairie Tune spent as much time as he could playing music with his new band mates in bars and ale houses in Canterlot. The band was planning on moving their tour out to Phillydelphia in a few weeks, which would give Prairie Tune time to get his family settled in before running off to join them. Given the short amount of time he had until he had to leave Canterlot, he was excited to live it up. When he wasn't practicing with the band or playing his guitar on his own, he was often caught drinking spiked cider, smoking cigars, or getting himself into trouble with the elites around Canterlot for deflowering their daughters.
Smithy was learning more about how to read a newspaper at the library, though she found Stinking Rich to be a condescending teacher. They were often shushed by the librarians for getting into arguments over articles they read. She could tell he liked getting into these debates with her to make himself look smarter than her, which drove her mad. The only reason she continued these daily newspaper readings was because she promised Bladire that she would share the news she was reading whenever she could.
Early in the mornings, Smithy could find Bladire trimming the hedge maze. She used those early mornings to sneak in time with her new zebra friend without being caught. Even after fighting with Stinking Rich over the supposed facts he found suggesting she stay away from Bladire, she couldn't fight how she felt. She just kept how she felt a secret to avoid further confrontation.
Though he was cautious at first to accept anything from Smithy, Bladire quickly warmed up to the kindness she was so willing to show him. Even after repeated warnings from his fellow slaves, Bladire could not help finding a connection with Smithy. He admired her tenacity, her morals, and her ability to sneak around the castle without being caught. So long as the pony who had bullied them before was no where in sight, he was comfortable with spending time with her.
Bladire treasured his mornings with Smithy, and not just because she brought him treats and news of the outside world. He had begun to feel a real kinship with this sweet little Smithy. She was free spirited, kind hearted, and even a bit reckless, so much like his long lost sister, Kizzy. Having Smithy around helped him feel a somewhat closer to the sister he had lost when he was forced into slavery, which made seeing her leave all the more difficult.
They had met up for the last time in the hedge maze just as they had every morning. Smithy had smuggled some muffins and a thermos of apple juice for them to share, and set it up on a picnic blanket with flowers as a special treat. “There ya are!” she exclaimed as soon as she saw Bladire in the maze.
The two hugged as soon as they saw each other, Bladire holding on a bit longer than normal. “I can not believe this will be the last time I see you,” he said sadly as they walked to the picnic blanket Smithy had prepared.
The two sat quietly, eating their muffins as they thought about what they would say to one another. Smithy felt bad knowing that Bladire probably hadn’t had a meal this nice in a long time. "Well, I read in the papers that Chairman Carpet Bag wants to run fer governor," she said, trying to break the tension.
Bladire looked at the article that Smithy had saved for him, unable to read a word of it. “He is popular,” he replied matter of factually, looking at the chairman posing for his photo in the newspaper. "It would be a fool's errand to run against him."
Wishing she had the knowledge to make talking about politics interesting, Smithy just stared at the paper along with Bladire. "I’m tryin' to understand this newspaper business," she began, feeling down on herself. "It’s just an awful lot to take in. I feel like I'm never gonna understand how the world works."
Glad to see that he was not the only one feeling overwhelmed, Bladire began folding the paper into a shape to cheer up his friend. “You have made progress, but you are not alone in how you feel," he said, folding the paper into the shape of a frog. “The wise shamans of my village would often say that they too did not understand the world, only they did not have the benefit of newspapers like you do."
Glad to hear that even wise old zebras were just as confused as she was, Smithy was contented to watch Bladire make the paper frog hop. “I don’t think anypony suspects us of meetin' up in the morning,” she said optimistically as she went for a second muffin.
Bladire nodded quietly as he too went for seconds. “You have done well,” he said with a happy mouthful. “For this you have my eternal gratitude. I have enjoyed the time we have shared together.”
Smithy was glad to know he hadn’t been punished yet. “I hate havin’ to keep our friendship a secret like this,” she said. “Folks are too mean to ya. I wish Princess Celestia’d just let ya come with us. Heck, we could be neighbors!”
While the idea certainly sounded nice, Bladire knew that it was little more than a pleasant idea. It was a challenge to uphold this friendship of theirs. For some reason that neither of them understood, a friendship between a pony and a zebra was seen as inappropriate, even taboo. Still, he enjoyed seeing Smithy smile at the dreamed up possibilities.
After swallowing a mouthful of juice, Bladire began to grin as he handing Smithy something. “It belonged to Kizzy, and I want you to have it,” he said eagerly as Smithy unwrapped a braided cord necklace with an onyx charm. It was a simple thing, yet beautiful at the same time.
Smithy was sincerely touched by the simple gesture. “Oh Bladire, are ya sure?” she asked, knowing how much he missed his sister.
Bladire smiled as he strapped it around her neck, careful to hide it under her shawl. “You remind me so much of her,” he said as he admired the gift around the filly’s neck.
Smithy eagerly hugged Bladire, hating the idea of never seeing him again. “This can't be goodbye,” she began to cry. “Why don’t ya just run away with me like the night we met?”
Bladire held his crying friend to comfort her. “I want to, but I am afraid,” he replied, remembering the pain he endured after he was captured.
Smithy used the end of the picnic blanket to wipe her eyes. “Maybe we could smuggle ya out in a box?” she suggested, trying to come up with a plan on the spot.
Bladire shook his head. “The guards will be checking for stolen property," he answered, hating to disappoint his friend. “I have seen other zebras try this method with failure being the result."
Dissatisfied with her previous plan, Smithy tried thinking of a new one. "How'd ya escape the first time?” she asked, hoping for inspiration.
Bladire thought back to the night he met Smithy in the alley. “I had only been in this land for a few weeks," he began, Smithy paying full attention to what he was saying. “I had spent every night trying to escape, which is why I was in chains. I was able to pull a weakened stone free from the wall I was chained to, and climbed the gate that surrounds the castle."
While the story was exciting on its own, Smithy was still curious for more information. "Do they still chain ya up?” she asked.
Bladire shook his head. “With Alabaster's help, I have recently been kept from the chains," he answered. “I owe a great many things to Alabaster. While he is strict with me, his guidance has helped me to stay safe in this land. Though it is he that warns me against our friendship. He tells me frightening things about what a friendship like ours can lead to."
Smithy was hurt to know that Bladire's mentor was making him so afraid of their friendship. “Ya ain’t gonna bring him with ya, are ya?” she asked coyly, watching Bladire shake his head in response. “Than why not run off tonight? Me and mah family are gonna be campin' out in the mountain woods tonight. Ya can meet us there, and we'll smuggle ya the rest of the way."
Seriously contemplating the offer, Bladire couldn’t help smiling. “Do you think that it will work?” he asked, a spark of excitement creeping into his voice.
The moment was cut short as Smithy heard her father calling out her name. In a panic, Smithy and Bladire wrapped up their picnic. Throwing the contents over his shoulder, Bladire smiled one last time at his friend. “I will clean this up,” he explained. “You must go to your father before he worries.”
Taking in one last hug, Smithy sighed before letting go. “See ya tonight,” she said excitedly.
Bladire was touched by the genuine words, but knew that hiding was too much of a priority for him to linger. “Your friendship has meant more to me than you will know,” he said as he planted a kiss on her cheek before he ran off to hide.
Smithy stood in shock as she watched Bladire disappear around a corner. She reached up to the spot where he had kissed her on the cheek, blushing as she gently touched the spot as if to see if the kiss was real. Her parents had kissed her cheeks dozens of times, and even some adults had planted an endearing kiss there, but this kiss felt different. There was something so sincere about it, so loving, she couldn't quite put her hoof on it. All she knew is that she liked it.
Smithy was so wrapped up in her own thoughts that she didn't even hear her father coming. She felt his own sloppy kiss fall upon her cheek right where Bladire had kissed her. “Well there ya are mah lil’ darlin’!” he exclaimed. “I’ve been lookin’ everyplace fer ya! What’s the hold up?”
Smithy could see that by now Bladire was long gone, far away from where her father or anypony would find him. “Just gettin’ in one last look 'round before we go,” she lied with a smile on her face.
Pokey Oaks tussled his daughter’s hair lovingly, making her bangs crocked. “Well, day light’s a wastin’,” he explained. “Time to head 'em up and 'em move out!”
Smithy faithfully followed her father out of the hedge maze, watching him curse at the wrong turns he had made and laughing as she made suggestions. She had hoped that Bladire had better luck finding his way out, thinking to herself how resourceful he was for being able to see her so often. As she and her father crossed the maze threshold, she couldn't help looking back into the maze and wondering if they would ever see each other again.
Smithy followed her father to the front of the castle where the family wagon was packed and ready for their journey. Princess Celestia and Chairman Carpet Bag stood near the wagon, watching as the guards inspected it for contraband. The guards emerged from the wagon, reporting it clean.
Celestia noticed the two ponies approaching, and smiled as they bowed before her. “I came to wish you all safe travels,” she said, gazing happily upon the Seed Family. “I eagerly await news of your safe arrival."
While Pokey Oaks was more than ready to get a move on, he stopped for a moment to pay his respects. “I can’t wait to write to ya 'bout all the good news," he said optimistically as he strapped the wagon's harness to his back.
Pleased with the attitude, Chairman Carpet Bag ordered the guards to open the castle gates. “We will be sending mail carrier ponies weekly,” he explained. “I for one look forward to all that you have to say about your new home. I have a good feeling that you won't be disappointing me."
With the gates wide open, Pokey Oaks grinned from ear to ear like a free man. "We'll be seein' y'all!" he exclaimed with an elated whinny as he trotted out the gates with his family. “Everfree, here comes the Seeds!"
Smithy waved at the regal princess and her chairman as they rolled out of sight, hoping to catch a glimpse of Bladire as they traveled out of the grand city of Canterlot. She was really looking forward to seeing him again, and to no longer having to sneak around being friends with him.
Sitting on top of the wagon was her brother, Prairie Tune. He was strumming up a tune on his guitar for the family to sing along to. "Come on Seeds, y'all know this one!” he exclaimed as he struck a few chords on his guitar.
I've been everywhere, man. I've been everywhere, man. Cross the country bare, man. I've breathed the city air, man. Of travel I've had my share, man. I've been everywhere!
Ponies waved the singing Seed Family on as they passed street after street on their way to the mountain woods. The excitement of the music even got a few of the Canterlot elite to tap their hooves in enjoyment. A general sense of excitement was felt from anywhere that wagon rolled all throughout the day.
By early evening, the Seed Family had finally reached a point in the woods where they could camp out. The sun was already setting in the west when they set up a camp fire to make dinner. Smithy rushed through her meal, too excited about reuniting with Bladire.
As the meal wrapped up, the rest of the family was looking forward to a good night's sleep. Pokey Oaks wrapped a loving arm around his wife's waist as they watched the stars come out with their children. "Why don't y'all youngins camp out under the stars tonight?" he suggested, his wife giggling like a school filly. “Me and yer mama wanna talk over some stuff tonight alone. Nothin' bad, mind ya. Just some private stuff between us."
Sew n' Sow's girlish giggles were enough to tell the kids what Pokey Oaks meant by 'private stuff,' but Smithy didn’t care. She was hoping for a chance to be by herself anyway. Meeting up with Bladire would be easier that way.
She wondered away from the campsite to wait, looking up at the full moon with hope in her heart. It was a full moon just like the one the night they had met. She remembered how he wanted her to run to the mountains with her that night so that he could escape, and now they would have their chance.
She leaned against a tall tree, making herself conformable against the soft moss growing on the side of it. She breathed in the quiet mountain air, having forgotten what quiet sounded like after months of living in Canterlot. It was peaceful, like the forest already knew how the world worked but kept it hidden like a buried treasure deep within its roots.
Breathing in the comforting scents of nature, Smithy reached for the necklace Bladire had given her. It was still hidden under her shawl, reminding her of the secret plans that she and Bladire had made for reuniting. The feeling of the stone against her hoof made her feel better, as if things were going to be as smooth as the onyx hanging around her neck.
Smithy sighed contently as she began thinking about what it would take for Bladire to escape. She imagined him wearing the same dark cloak he wore the night they met in the alley, only without chains to burden him. She thought about him scaling the castle gates on his quest for freedom.
She wondered what it must be like to have your freedom stripped of you, imagining what kind of elation Bladire would be feeling as he left the castle behind to run through the alleyways like a ghost in the shadows. She imagined the moonlight playing off of his cloak the way it did when they met, giving him a mysterious appearance as he galloped through the background.
She wondered what route he would be taking, envisioning a dangerous and exciting one filled with obstacles he would have to dodge like a hero. She wondered what he was going to face in the dead of night in Canterlot, dreaming of gruff guards, tall fences, barking dogs, and secret hiding places.
Her dreaming turned to the edge of the Canterlot, where Bladire would dive into the woods on his quest for freedom. He would bound effortlessly through the thick underbrush, slinking his way through the moonlight woods where no guard would ever find him.
He would use his tribal skills to track her down, finding her waiting for him with open arms. They would embrace like old friends, and she could almost feel him kissing her on the cheek just as he did when they parted in the hedge maze.
Smithy gasped as she felt a big wet kiss hit her cheek, opening her eyes to see her father in front of her, surrounded by daylight. “We've been lookin' fer ya all mornin'," he said as Smithy rubbed her tired eyes.
Taking in her surroundings, Smithy was disappointed in herself for falling asleep. She looked around, trying to find Bladire only to realize that he was not anywhere to be seen.
Smithy rushed back to the camp site with her father, hoping that Bladire had found it in the middle of the night and was waiting for her there. No such luck was had as her mother and brothers embraced her.
Smithy slowly picked at her breakfast, bidding her time for Bladire to emerge from the woods to join them. The stalling was only making her mother more and more aggravated. “Yer gonna need yer strength iff'n we expect to get to our new home by tonight," Sew n’ Sow coaxed, only to get a disappointed grumble out of her daughter. “Quit yer belly achin'. I know ya had yer fun in Canterlot, but we got a lot of work ahead of us. We can't do this if we ain’t gonna work as a family."
Smithy wished she could say how she felt, but how could her mother understand? She began to stuff food into her mouth to keep from crying too much, not even caring about what it tasted like.
Sew n' Sow rubbed her daughter’s back as she ate. “Slow down now, darlin'," she chuckled at Smithy’s crocodile tears. “Yer gonna get a belly ache eatin' like that."
Letting out a big hiccup from eating too fast, Smithy began to cry out loud. “Oh mama!" she bawled, her mother throwing her arms around her and holding her tight.
Sew n' Sow rocked her hiccuping child to calm her down. “It’s alright," she said, cooing gently like mothers do. “Why don’t ya just take it easy in the back of the wagon fer a while."
Letting her mother lift her into the back of the wagon, Smithy lay hiccuping and upset. She reached under her shawl for the necklace, touching the smooth onyx stone longingly as if she could be touching Bladire right now. "Where are ya?" she said in a whispered hush, looking out the wagon window as the rest of the family cleaned up camp.
All too soon, Smithy could feel the wagon jerk forward towards its destination. As they traveled further and further down, she could see Canterlot hanging off the side of the mountain like a wart on a pretty pony’s face. Could Bladire really still be there, tangled up in chains again all because of her?
Big Macintosh began to tear up as he listened to the story. “Awwwww, shucks,” he said, grabbing Granny Smith’s handkerchief and blowing his nose.
Rocking her sensitive grandson, Granny Smith turned a few pages to reveal a photo of her family’s first house. “Now don’t go a belly achin’,” she teased. “That weren’t the last time me and Bladire ever saw each other. It just took us some years before our paths crossed again.”
Granny Smith found the pages in her scrapbook to help explain how many years it would take before she and Bladire reunited…
Many years had gone by at Sweet Apple Acres, and in those years the Seed Family had finally prospered. Thanks to the fertile land and the seeds that Pokey Oaks and his family had collected and planted, they were finally able to grow some of the most profitable fruits and vegetables they had ever grown in their lives, including the mysterious zap apples that Smithy had found in the Everfree Forest.
Smithy thought about how far her family had come since they first arrived at Sweet Apple Acres. She had kept herself a scrapbook with those memories to help her never forget the experiences that had shaped her into the mare she was now and to remind herself to be grateful for what good things she and her family had worked so hard for. Flipping through the pages reminded her of just how much had changed from when she was a little girl.
She smiled absentmindedly as she skimmed over the photos she had kept of Happy Trails’s wedding. He married soon after the farm became a success. Smithy had always wanted a sister when she was little, and now she had one with her sister-in-law, Sunfower. Sunflower was an elite from Canterlot, whose father was an investment broker. Seeing potential in his now son-in-law, he helped Happy Trails start up the very successful moving company that brought so many ponies to Ponyville. The courier job in Canterlot had really helped give Happy Trails the experience he needed become a success. Good thing too, because he and Sunflower were expecting another child!
Prairie Tune on the other hoof had chosen the life of the rogue musician, his bluesy tunes leading him to become a great musical success. He toured all over Equestria, enjoying the finer things in life. He also took pleasure in some of the not so fine things in life on his tours, such as hard liquor, illusion inducing weeds, and easy women. Having fathered a filly or a foal in nearly every town in Equestria, he never settled for anything or anypony that could make him happy. No matter how much money he made, he could never find a reason to be happy. Smithy hated watching him induce so much suffering upon himself. Even his music posters that she kept in her scrapbook made him look like a brooding soul.
Pokey Oaks and Sew n’ Sow were just happy to be able to grow old together in a blissful state of comfort instead of letting their financial insecurities eat away at their marriage. That wasn't to say they still didn't have their ups and downs. Various farm related hazards such as vampire fruit bats and bad weather prior to an establishment of a pegasus weather team in Ponyville gave them their fair share of marital stress, but they had vowed to each other that there would be no more secrets between them. Ever since that first board was laid at Sweet Apple Acres, they pledged to each other to not make the same mistakes that had brought them so much misery in Dodge City. While this promise wasn't always easy to keep, the results were clearly worth the effort.
They had tried to become parents again, but nothing they did seemed to be working anymore. Grateful to have sired the children they had, they settled down to their life of financial security. For once in their lives they were ahead, and even the envy of the town. The mayor of Ponyville had even given them a high rank in the town council. It felt good to see them being influential for a change.
Pokey Oaks had a change of heart since being released from Foalsom Prison, and his new conservative lifestyle had helped the Seed Family to finally pay off all of their debts to Princess Celestia. He even managed to start saving up some money with Mighty Rich’s help, much to everypony’s delight.
Mighty Rich came by the evening the last payment was made to have a party with the Seed family. He cracked open a case of cider with Pokey Oaks in celebration of the zero balance, helping them build a bonfire with the accounting papers that had started it all. Relief poured over them all as the cider poured freely. Mighty Rich even announced his retirement that very night, leaving the Dodge City Building and Loan to his eldest son, Fairly Rich.
Come to think of it, Smithy hadn’t seen much of the Rich family since that night. Sure, she'd seen Mighty Rich and Opulent every so often when they would drop by to play cards with her parents, but she hadn’t seen the Rich boys in ages. She sometimes thought back to the bargain she made with Stinking Rich years ago in Canterlot, wondering if he was ever going to call in the favor she had promised him. Since so much time had passed since that day, she had a feeling he was just trying to look like a big man instead of a pipsqueak.
The last time she remembered seeing him was at the big bonfire their fathers held for paying off the debts. Stinking Rich seemed more quiet and reserved than he once was, a drastic change from the rude, opportunitistic troll she had known growing up. She approached him at one point in the night, just to make polite conversation while their parents got drunker and drunker on celebratory cider. She found out that he was anxious and jealous over his brothers inheritance of the family business. He mentioned his concerns for finding his own success and the odds stacked against him. Smithy had never seen this vulnerable side of Stinking Rich before. While she was interested in hearing more, her mother was more interested in taking a snapshot of the two of them together.
The conversation ended quickly after the embarrassing, sideways, slightly out of focus photo was taken, the very photo that Smithy was looking at now. She hadn't seen him since, but heard from his parents that he had gotten into a distribution agreement with Grossly Rich's general store. She didn't remember all the details, but to her it just sounded like busy work. Looking more closely at the photograph, she wondered if he ever had found the success he was looking for.
All Smithy had to her name was her zap apple jam. While she was glad it could help turn a barren land into a bustling town, she noticed an increase in zebras working the fields in Ponyville. Every time Smithy saw a group of zebras toiling in the hot sun, she thought about Bladire. She couldn’t help thinking about him every time she watched a zebra slave laboring away. She would often look to see if maybe one of them was Bladire, and wondered what ever became of him. Had he ever found that sister of his, or found his way out of those awful chains?
She thought about Bladire as she held the onyx necklace that he had given her the day they parted ways. Going up to the mirror to fasten the necklace around her neck, she thought about how slavery was still alive and thriving in Equestria. Slavery had started in the palaces and mansions of Canterlot, but over the years it spread like a virus throughout Equestria and had become universally accepted among the masses. How could that lovely princess who had shown her family such mercy not want to do anything about this injustice?
Smithy was glad knowing that the Seed Family had never taken a slave, but not for the same reasons that she felt. Pokey Oaks was too proud for that kind of thing, feeling that he needed to work off his debts for himself instead of letting somepony else do it. He had been given a second chance to make amends for his mistakes, something he regularly reminded his family of that it didn't happen very often in life. Even though Sew n’ Sow felt differently and often begged him to buy a few slaves, Pokey Oaks wanted to know that his success was something that he himself had worked for. Smithy was proud of her father for sticking to his beliefs, but knew that she felt differently about slave labor than he did.
Before she could dwell further on the subject, she heard a knock at her door. “I’m a comin’!” she said, taking off the necklace and tossing it aside on her dresser, being sure to put a handkerchief on top of it to keep it hidden.
On the other side of the door stood Pokey Oaks, eager to get the zap apple jam stand set up with his wife and sons. It was zap apple season again, and her brothers were in town to help with the harvest. Despite their own personal lives, the Seed boys always seemed to find time to come around to help the family with the harvest. After all, the zap apples disappeared if they hadn’t been picked in time. “Time for some good ol’ fashioned zap apple jammin’!” he exclaimed, giving his daughter a big hug and a sloppy kiss on the cheek.
The photo that held its place next to an old jam label showed the Seed Family all grown up and standing around their zap apple jam stand. Big Macintosh stared wide eyed at the youthful image of his grandmother and her family. “Wow! Yer a real beauty there, Granny!” he said as he looked at the photo, whistling low at the once attractive mare that was now his wrinkled old granny.
Granny Smith blushed at her grandson’s compliment. “Ah, well. I was right purdy enough fer a young lady,” she giggled. “I was just a lil’ older than our Applejack here in this photo. Why, I had a few fellas tryin’ to court me off and on, but none of ‘em seemed to capture mah interest enough to steal mah heart. None that is, until he came along again…”
With the zap apple jam stand set up once again, ponies were lined up for miles around to get their own jars. The Seed Family was expecting to see several familiar faces this season considering the popularity of the product, but nothing could prepare Smithy for the sight of who she was about to see standing in line. “Stinkin’ Rich!” she said in surprise at the tall, lean loan pony’s son standing in line at her jam stand.
Gone was the gangly, pimple faced grease ball she remembered from her youth. In its place stood a confident, handsome pony with bright blue eyes and an easy smile. Smithy could feel herself blushing at the sight of this pony wearing little more than a smile and a straw hat.
Seeing the rising color contrasting against the light green in Smithy’s cheeks, Stinking Rich decided to give her a flirty wink to make that blushing stronger. “Well, ain’t ya a sight fer sore eyes,” he smiled, taking in the sight of the lovely mare before him. “I never woulda thought such a scrawny lil’ filly could grow up into such a prize piece.” Pouring on the charm, the handsome stallion grabbed Smithy by the hoof so that he could give it a gentlemanly kiss.
Smithy was beside herself with the sudden attention, blushing all the more strongly as her family watched the affectionate display with encouraging expressions. “So, uh, what brings ya ‘round these here parts?” she said, shrinking back demurely in the presence of the charming young man. “Last I heard ya were still livin’ in Dodge City, tryin’ to help yer brother with distribution fer his general store.”
Stinking Rich chuckled easily at the attractive pony’s question. “Why, yer jam’s what’s brought me. Though iffn ya ask me, the ponies in this here town could sure could keep a man stayin’ put, especially purdy lil’ enterprisin’ types,” he flirted, looking at her hungrily with those deep blue eyes. “Dodge City got a taste of yer talents, and now they’re askin’ ‘bout it all over town. I thought I could help Grossly Rich keep a good stock of yer zap apple jam in his general store. I was hopin’ perhaps we could strike up a nice lil’ business agreement together, just the two of us.”
Stinking Rich giggled as he watched Smithy embarrass herself by jumping around for joy at the thought of her zap apple jam being sold in an out of town store. “So it’s settled then,” he said, wrapping an arm around Smithy’s slender shoulders to calm her exasperation. “What’s say we hammer out the details tonight after the Box Social at Town Hall.”
The Box Social had become a big annual fundraiser for the town of Ponyville, and the Seed Family had been the heads of the party ever since Ponyville had become a town. The object of the event was for women to prepare a decorative boxed meal for two, allowing the men to bid on the boxes and essentially bid on the women who made them in the process.
Stinking Rich set a gentle hoof upon Smithy’s, looking her in the eye with those deep blue eyes of his. He was so easy on the eyes, and Smithy could feel herself quivering as she looked into them. “I hope I have enough bits to bid on yer box,” he whispered in her ear in a low, flirty voice. The sensation was spellbinding.
Smithy could feel herself reaching out to Stinking Rich as he walked away with his purchase, watching him as he waved a friendly goodbye to the rest of the Seed Family. “See y’all tonight at the social!” he exclaimed, giving Smithy one final wink before walking away.
Townsfolk had gathered around to prep for the event, putting on the final touches for this evening’s festivities. Stinking Rich had arrived very early to help out, bringing along a group of slaves he had purchased years ago to be useful that night. Making sure the lot of them was properly bathed and dressed for working, Stinking Rich used them for all the dangerous or menial tasks such as dusting high places, hanging ribbons on high rafters, lighting the fire in the fire place, mopping the floors, and beating out the dust on all the floor mats. Why let some pony get themselves all dirtied up when a slave could do it?
As the zebras worked, Pokey Oaks and Sew n’ Sow came by early to see how the preparations were going. Pleased to see such a spectacular sight, Sew n’ Sow let out a gasp of pure delight. “It’s downright magical!” she exclaimed, looking it over as if it were a wedding hall instead of a town event. The candles! The linens! The placemats! The live band tuning up on the stage! Everything was just so perfect that her heart beat a mile a minute! Pokey Oaks had to catch her as she fainted from the overload of everything, landing in his arms with a wide smile on her face.
The band had begun tuning up as Smithy snuck back stage to have a look at the festivities. She had to admit, her parents had really outdone themselves this year. She smiled back at a friendly looking fiddle player when from the corner of her eye she thought she saw somepony familiar. Tilting her head sideways, she saw a strong looking zebra dressed in overalls climbing carefully down from a ladder, looking terrified by the task he had finished. That terrified look, those stripes, it couldn’t be him, could it?
Sneaking around to the other side of the stage, Smithy snuck up a little closer to watch the zebra. He had looked so relieved as he put his hooves on the safety of the ground. Stepping forward so that he could see her, Smithy was surprised to see him bow low to her as if he was in terrible trouble, addressing her as ‘miss.’ “Bladire?” she asked, tilting her head sideways at the gesture.
She was even more surprised to see the zebra’s eyes shoot strait open at the mention of the name, his head perking up as he began to look at her. “Smithy?” he asked, a hint of fear in his deepened voice at being so bold as to ask a question of his superior.
Smithy smiled broadly as she ran up to him, Bladire returning the smile as they embraced. “Ya remember me!” she exclaimed as he kissed her on the cheek. “I never thought I’d see ya again! Where’ve ya been all this time?”
The chat had been cut short as Stinking Rich approached. “Toby! No!” he hollered, smacking Bladire on the rump. “Boy, y’ll dirty that lady up with yer black stripes! What were ya thinkin’?”
Bladire bowed down fearfully, cowering low to the ground. “Forgive me, Master Rich,” he whimpered his apology. “The lady and I know each other, and she approached me. I meant no troubles, master. Please.”
Stinking Rich shot the slave a dirty look. “Yer a mighty bad ziggler, Toby,” he said, kicking Bladire in the ribs. The zebra let out a yelp at the impact, accepting it as his punishment.
Stinking Rich gave his slave one more kick for good measure, smirking over the power he held over the creature. “Go on! Get!” he hollered, pointing to the back stage door. “Just for that, ya get to go climb the trees out there and take down all them loose branches. Don’t that sound nice?”
Bladire swallowed hard as he said “yes, master,” dreading the climbing due to his fear of heights. With a swat to the flank he ran for the door, not looking back.
Stinking Rich beamed proudly at Smithy, basking in the feeling of triumph he felt over having control over his slave. “What do ya think of mah investment?” he said, proud of himself. “Bought mahself a whole mess of zigglers a few years ago. That one’s from Canterlot. Real spitfire ‘til I got done breakin’ him.”
Smithy stared him full on in the eye, reminding herself of how much she despised the hate word ‘ziggler’ he used to describe zebras. She was both shocked and disturbed to be seeing this coming from Stinking Rich, especially after being swept up by his charms only a few hours ago. It was hard for her to focus on her anger as she got distracted by the attractive color of Stinking Rich’s eyes, almost as if he had a hypnotic effect on her. “He’s mah friend,” she said meekly as she looked in him in the eye, their faces close together as their eyes locked.
Just then, Stinking Rich got an idea. “He wouldn’t be that one dish washer, would he?” he asked, his smile an upturned tease.
Smithy nodded uncertainly to the question, which seemed to make Stinking Rich smile all the broader. “It is a small kingdom!” he said, resting his hoof upon his brow as though his mind had been blown. “All this time, had I known. Well, this is just wonderful!”
Smithy watched the pony talking to himself as if having an epiphany, trying to figure out what he was thinking. Suddenly, he looked at her with an ambitious hunger in his eyes. “Ya remember that deal we made the night I found the two of ya in the kitchen?” he asked.
Smithy shrunk back at the sight of the ambition on his face, not sure what was going on. “I, uh, don’t remember all the details…” she muttered uncomfortably, backing away slowly as if she was being interrogated.
Not wanting to let her get away from his brilliant ideas, Stinking Rich threw an arm around her slender shoulders and held her tightly. “Imagine this if ya would,” he said, holding his hoof out as if he were painting a mental picture, his eyes glossed over with brilliance. “A store where ponies could save hundreds of bits a year, gettin’ everythin’ they need in one stop! Wall to wall savin’s thanks to items bought in bulk, prices slashed lower than they’d ever seen anywhere else! I reckon it’ll be magnificent!”
Of course everypony liked to shop, and Smithy knew that. “So, what does this got to do with me?” Smithy asked, her head plastered to his in the beaming pony’s tight grasp.
Turning his ambitious smile upon her, Stinking Rich held her by the shoulders and looked her right square in the eye. “This is where ya come in,” he said, staring at her as though he was making or breaking the idea of a lifetime. “I need suppliers. Not only do y’all Seeds create an amazin’ product, but y’all are a high influence in town. Even ponies from far and wide know of the Seed Family. Not only can ya help me supply yer wares to help me turn mah brother’s store into a chain, but ya can help me network around fer the best products a pony could ever ask fer! Just think of the profits! If only ya’d keep yer promise to do anythin’ I asked of ya, anythin’ at all. Can this be yer anythin’ ya promised?”
Smithy couldn’t help feeling a sense of relief mixed with a dash of excitement about the possibilities that this idea could bring to her family. While the details were sketchy at best, she could see he wanted to benefit the both of them. She could feel herself smiling with relief as she said yes, and was even smiling at Stinking Rich’s excited trotting. His distribution career really had brought him prosperity after all. He was thinking of the future, and how he could better himself, and herself.
She giggled loudly as he lifted her in the air and hugged her tightly, kissing her full on the lips as her hooves hit the floor. The impact of his lips on hers was shocking at first, leaving her speechless as they looked each other in the eye. Oh what a feeling! So full of ambition, so full of possibilities, so full of danger, so full of excitement. So wrong, so right, so good, so bad, so naughty, so… hormones! She felt Stinking Rich lean in for another kiss, and she couldn’t keep from kissing him back. The fresh excitement of it enticed her enough that she just couldn’t help herself. There was something so good about acting so naughty that made her feel weak in the knees.
The mood was cut short by the sounds of ‘awwwww’ from Smithy’s parents, who held each other fondly as they watched the romantic display. Smithy blushed at the realization that she’d been caught doing something rather unladylike in public. “I guess I’d better be moseyin’ along,” she said, embarrassed about how hot under the collar she’d become in such a short amount of time. “I got a whole mess of things I need to do before tonight.”
Stinking Rich nodded as he looked demurely at Smithy’s parents. “As do I, Mr. and Mrs. Seed,” he said, tipping his straw hat at them. “When should I expect to see ya folks here tonight?”
As her parents hammered out the details for the night, Smithy sat back to try to collect her thoughts. As she listened to the details, she noticed out of the corner of her eye somepony standing at the back stage door. She turned to see Bladire, leaves stuck in his mane and a disappointed look upon his face. Smithy felt even more ashamed of herself for letting her emotions get the better of her.
Her thoughts were cut short as soon as she felt Stinking Rich kiss her on the cheek. “See ya tonight, baby girl,” he said, his smile like a lingering mist. She could still feel his kiss tingling warmly on her cheek, but Bladire’s look of shame made her blood run cold as ice.
Apple Bloom held her head in her hooves, rocking back and forth in disgust. “Oh my stars!” she cried out. “Ya didn’t end up marryin’ him, did ya?”
Applejack rolled her eyes at her little sister's obscene overreaction. “Don't be ridiculous, Apple Bloom," she said straight forwardly. “Granny Smith married our Granddad. That's where we come from, right Granny?"
Granny Smith pat her granddaughters on the back to calm them down. “Yer Granddad weren't mah first husband,” she admitted, watching the yellow coloration in Apple Bloom’s face turn white with disgust. “Eventually I did end up marryin' Stinkin' Rich."
Apple Bloom rolled around on the bed, hugging her stomach in melodramatic agony. “Ya mean to tell me I’m related to Diamond Tiara?!?” she whimpered, her hooves covering her mouth as if doing so would keep in the bad news.
Granny Smith couldn’t help laughing at the silly child, slapping her knee and guffawing as her granddaughter covered her eyes. “Oh, just a lil’,” she explained. “She’s just a part Rich and a part Seed, while yer a part Seed and a part Apple.”
Apple Bloom wailed on as she thought about the relation. “Say it ain’t so!” she sobbed at the realization of lineage.
Granny Smith shook her head at the dramatics. Fillies now a day are just so much more prone to fits of theatrics than they were in her day. “Now he weren’t mah first choice of men,” she explained as she turned to a page with a newspaper clipping of the Box Social…
Pokey Oaks and Sew n’ Sow were thrilled to see somepony paying attention to their youngest child, and even more thrilled to see her paying attention back. Smithy had always been picky with suitors around Ponyville, and they were afraid she would never settle down.
As Sew n’ Sow helped Smithy into a striking yellow gingham gown that complimented the yellow in her daughter’s hair, she couldn’t help crying for joy. “Y’ll be the belle of the box social!” she beamed as she helped Smithy with her hair. Tonight that golden mane which usually was kept in check by braids would be worn in a fancy up-do and embellished with flowers and ribbons.
As her mother sprayed Smithy with a perfume that made her sneeze, Sew n’ Sow looked proudly at the daughter she had raised. “Don’t ya look stunnin’,” she sighed, remembering the night she got all dressed up for the Box Social where she had met Pokey Oaks. “Tonight is gonna be a real night to remember fer ya. I can’t wait to see all them men folk biddin’ on yer fancied up boxed supper. I got it all ready to go downstairs. Boy, is yer daddy gonna be tickled pink to see ya all gussied up like this!”
Butterflies darted about in Smithy’s stomach as her mother rambled on. What if tonight really was a special night for her? What if tonight she would dance with the man who she would one day marry? What if he were to bid on her boxed meal? Then again, what if the night was a total disaster? What if she was left alone holding the box and all this effort was for nothing? And why all of the sudden was she hot and bothered for Stinking Rich? She couldn’t stand him as a filly, so why the sudden attraction? She’d kissed and flirted with boys in Ponyville before for fun with nothing serious coming of it, so why was this sensation suddenly so strong? And how could she still feel this way after seeing how he treated Bladire?
She was glad to see her mother rush out of the room to grab the hundredth ‘just one more thing’ for her outfit. Gulping back her rising nerves, she looked at her reflection in the mirror. She almost didn’t look like herself. How could a man ever expect to fall for her if she didn’t look like her?
All the thoughts rushing through her head were making her feel uneasy. Smithy grabbed a nearby handkerchief from her dresser top to dry her stubborn eyes, hoping her mother’s hard work on her make up wouldn’t become ruined. As she dabbed gently at her leaky eyes, she noticed the onyx necklace she had hidden earlier. Picking it up in her hoof, she examined it closely. She had treasured the trinket for years, and each time she took it out, it reminded her of her own core values. In her eyes everypony deserved to be treated with the decency and kindness they expected of others, and the simplicity of the onyx reminded her of how simple it could be. If only everypony thought the same way.
Feeling the overwhelming desire to put the necklace on, Smithy held it up to her neck. Oh, but it didn’t go with her outfit at all! It was almost an eyesore next to the ribbons and lace, making Smithy feel like less of herself than she already did.
Just then, she heard her father knock at the door. “Are ya decent?” he teased as Smithy tried to figure out what to do with the necklace. Running short on time, she decided to pin it to the inside of her dress using the broach on the front. She may not have looked like herself on the outside, but at least there would be a little piece of herself pinned on the inside.
Opening the door slowly, Pokey Oaks peeked his head inside to catch a glimpse of his daughter. “Well, look at ya!” he said, getting misty eyed at the sight of his daughter. “The apple of mah eye. Ya look purdy enough to give away tonight. It’s like yer nothin’ like the baby girl I bounced on mah knee. Ya look all grown up!”
Sew n’ Sow nuzzled her husband’s neck, both to comfort him and to hide her own joyful tears. “She’s bound to catch somepony’s eye tonight,” she said with a motherly smile as her husband blew his nose loudly on a handkerchief. “Now lemme just clip these here ear rings on yer ears, and should I grab mah mother’s old hair pins? Ya know, those would look nice with mah old horseshoes! Oh, and one more thing…”
Town square was aglow with candles, bonfires, and fireflies. The air seemed to glimmer with soft music, bright conversation, delicate hors d’oeuvres, and sparkling alcoholic beverages. Anypony who was anypony was there to show themselves off, adorned to the inth degree with beads, buckles, and bows. Canterlot could hardly compare to the country chic that radiated from this event.
Smithy felt like a fish out of water as she made her way into the party, her heart beating wildly against the onyx charm pinned inside her dress. She was so nervous that she barely noticed anypony, hoping that she could hide unnoticed behind the punch bowls. After several calming swigs of a spiked rassleberry punch, she began to notice the zebra waiters in their tuxedos waiting on guests. One of them, holding a tray of her family’s famous zap apple tarts, was Bladire. Though he wore a smile upon his face to please the public, it did not seem to reach his eyes. ‘Poor guy,’ she thought to herself as she downed another glass of alcoholic punch.
The music picked up quickly into a fast paced square dance. Before she knew it, she was holding hooves with Stinking Rich. He looked stunning in a new black sport coat, his baby blue shirt and turquoise bowline tie complimenting the blue of his eyes. “Care to dance?” he said smoothly, tipping a new black cowboy hat at her and knowing by the dumb smile on her face that the answer would be yes.
Being swept away from the punch table, Smithy felt like she was almost flying in Stinking Rich’s arms. Maybe it was the alcohol she had consumed, or Stinking Rich’s cologne, or the ease in which they danced together, or the lights playing tricks on her eyes. Whatever it was, she liked it. Smithy didn’t want it to end as they danced square dance after square dance, stealing kisses with ease as they do-se-doed around the dance floor.
All too soon the music stopped. The mayor of Ponyville stood before them, his portly form waddling up to the megaphone. “Here y’all, citizens of Ponyville!” he said enthusiastically, dabbing sweat from his balding forehead as he spoke into the megaphone. “I wanna thank y’all fer helpin' make fer a fine party, and I wanna thank the Seed Family here fer their preparations fer this lovely get together. As always, y’all have really outdone yerselves with all this festivity!”
Pokey Oaks and Sew n’ Sow waved to the citizens of Ponyville as the crowd clapped their hooves along the ground in applause. Smithy couldn’t help feeling proud of her parents as she leaned contently against Stinking Rich. The contentment ended sharply as she watched Bladire offering them a pastry. She stood up ram rod strait, her jaw tensing with guilt as he gave her a look of sheer disappointment.
The mayor led everypony outside to begin the bids, where the sensation of the night air seemed to cool and refresh all the partygoers. Smithy gulped at that cool spring air, finding it hard to breath with how mixed up she was feeling. She felt a chill run up her spine as Stinking Rich kissed her cheek. “I’ll be biddin’ hard on ya, baby girl,” he whispered in that oh so silky voice of his. “I got a lot ridin’ on winnin’ ya over tonight.”
Smithy suddenly felt faint as Stinking Rich walked away to join the men. She felt her knees give out below her, and heard other girls screaming at the sight of a pony down. The town doctor rushed to her side with smelling salts, and he was able to quickly revive her.
Stinking Rich smiled to himself as he elbowed one of the competing men. “I got that effect on women,” he bragged, smiling as Smithy was helped up the stairs to join the other women for the bid.
Once she had been properly composed, Smithy took a seat on the Town Hall porch with her peers for the stallions to begin their bids on the boxed meals. The mayor proudly presented each gussied up meal for two, talking a mile a minute in his auctioneer voice.
Smithy gulped down a glass of water as the monotone auctioneering seemed to lull her mood down. Having those two men away from her was doing her a world of good right now, but she knew it couldn’t last long. She watched the men competing for a pink basket with black ribbons, belonging to the pharmacist's daughter. “Sold!” the mayor said, slamming his gavel down as a pretty grey mare with jet black hair trotted up giddily to the stallion who had won the bid on her basket. Up next was a large basket decorated with yellow gingham napkins and wrapped up in green ribbons. Sew n’ Sow had purposefully decorated it in her daughter’s colors so that every stallion in town would know it was hers.
Smithy began to sweat nervously as the mayor rolled out numbers for the men in town to bid on her, her mother waving at her from the crowd with a great big smile on her face. She saw a few men who she knew had been sweet on her raise their hooves in the air to bid, but they had all been quickly outbid by Stinking Rich, who cavalierly raised his hoof with each outbid. She couldn’t help looking around for Bladire, thinking to herself that maybe he would surprise her with a bid. She hadn’t even noticed the auction had ended until the gavel struck down, making her jump. “Sold! One hundred seventy five bits!” the mayor smiled broadly, accepting the money from a suavely smiling Stinking Rich.
Gathering the basket in her teeth, Smithy felt glad that something was occupying her mouth at the moment. Stinking Rich nuzzled her cheek softly as they walked down the stairs of Town Hall. “How’s 'bout we sneak off fer a bite to eat,” he suggested, Smithy gulping back her nerves as she looked into his suggestive eyes. “Besides, we got business to discuss.”
Smithy was shaking in her horseshoes, her teeth chattering on the basket handle as Stinking Rich lead her into the Everfree Forest with nothing but a firefly lamp to guide them. Not only was she nervous sneaking off with him in the middle of the night, but the forest was known for its dangers. It didn’t help that she was still feeling the effects of all the spiked punch she drank at the party.
Stinking Rich noticed her apprehension. He gently nudged her forward, doing his best to encourage her to do what he wanted. “Stay close now, baby girl,” he cooed in her ear, leaning close to his girl to ease her apprehension. “With me ‘round, there ain’t nothin’ we can’t face together.”
The vote of confidence in his voice had a soothing quality to it, and Smithy could not help feeling better as she leaned against him. “So why here?” she whispered, afraid of somepony, or worse something, hearing them.
All Stinking Rich could do was smile at her cautionary behavior. “Y’ll see soon enough,” he flirted, lifting a branch away so that Smithy could continue walking.
Before long they had reached a clearing near a wide stream. The full moon beamed down upon a picnic blanket covered in rose petals. Smithy dropped the basket in disbelief as Stinking Rich began to light candles. “See why I wanted to come all the way out here?” he said, a romantic smile crossing his face as he poured two glasses of wine.
Smithy was nearly shaking with delight at the display he had put on for her, smiling broadly as she sat on the blanket to sip at the wine. It was sweet with a mellow aftertaste, doing just the trick to ease her doubts. Three or four glasses made her feel all the more at ease. Before she knew it they were already done with a whole bottle, getting ready to uncork their second as they kissed and giggled.
Stinking Rich slowed his kisses down as he wrapped an arm around Smithy’s waist. “Before we get a lil’ too comfortable,” he suggested as he pulled something of his jacket pocket, “I wanna get this outta the way first."
Being drunk on expensive wine and hormonal anticipation, Smithy was expecting for Stinking Rich to pull out something else romantic from his jacket pocket. She was surprised to see the mood dampened by a stack of paper. "What in tarnation is this?" she asked, trying to figure out why he would want to stop the fun they were having.
Stinking Rich set one of the candles in front of the papers to help Smithy see. "It’s a supply contract with everythin’ we talked 'bout this afternoon," he explained as Smithy took another sip of wine. "It says that fer every zap apple harvest yer family has, I get the first hundred jars of zap apple jam at no charge.”
Choking on her wine, Smithy gawked at Stinking Rich in disbelief. “No charge!” she blurted out. “And just how are we supposed to make a profit ourselves if y’all get the first hundred jars?”
Gently holding his hoof up to Smithy’s mouth, Stinking Rich began to try shushing her. “Come on now, baby girl,” he said softly. “I ain’t entirely unreasonable. Y’all get to be profitin’ from this too. Ponies’ll wonder where everythin’ came from, and the exposure’ll surely bring business to Sweet Apple Acres. And with all that extra money, y’all can expand on yer property, growing more and more apples to supply all our hungry customers with.”
He made it all sound so simple. Smithy looked down at the contract, cursing herself for being too drunk to properly read it in the candle light. “Can I have some time to think this over?” she asked sweetly.
She could see the muscles of Stinking Rich’s eyes begin to twitch with impatience. “Now why can’t ya just do right by me and sign the dang thing already?” he asked, grabbing a quill and practically shoving it in Smithy’s face. “I mean, what’s there to think ‘bout? Ya got all the product exposure ya’d ever want right here! All ya gotta do is sign.”
There was something about Stinking Rich’s impatience that felt like a red flag. Surely there had to be a catch. “And what if I refuse?” she asked firmly, hoping she sounded more businesslike than drunk.
Having expected to hear a protesting remark, Stinking Rich got up from next to his sweetheart. With a hard buck of his back feet, a noose fell from the tree that they were sitting under. “I ain’t lynched me a ziggler in I don’t know how long,” he said, his smile dripping with evil. “That one yer all sweet with would sure be fun to watch swingin’. Whatcha think?”
Smithy could not believe what she was seeing. This whole thing was a set up, and she was foolish enough to be lead on by romantic ideals. She watched the noose swinging gently in the breeze, like a pendulum on a clock ticking away at her time to mull over the situation. Looking at Stinking Rich holding the quill up to her made her feel like she was making a deal with Discord himself. Knowing what it would take to save her friend from hanging from that tree, she began crying as she signed her name on the contract.
Quickly stuffing the signed contract back in his pocket, Stinking Rich reached out for the teary eyed pony. “Ya made the right choice there, baby girl,” he said, holding her close as she cried. "We're gonna have us a fine future together. Just ya wait and see."
All Smithy wanted to do was run away from this horrible stallion. “Lemme go,” she pushed away from him, letting her tears ruin her make up. "I didn't sign that contract fer our future. I did it fer Bladire! I never should've let ya sweet talk me into anythin'!"
Stinking Rich chuckled cruelly as he offered Smithy another glass of wine. “Yer sure I can't change yer mind?" he suggested, the wine dripping over the rim of the glass like a slow trickle of blood. “It'd do ya good to work with me, baby girl. I got a lot more power backin' me up than ya realize. I can show ya a world of profits and possibilities the likes of which ya can't even imagine. All I need ya to do is trust me, and we can be happy together forever."
The look in Stinking Rich’s eyes was just as hungry for her as they were backstage, only now she knew what he was capable of. He wasn't looking for love. He was looking for control. “I wanna go home,” she sniffled, pushing the offered glass of wine away.
Downing the glass himself, Stinking Rich wrapped his arm tightly around Smithy’s waist and began to nuzzle her neck. “Why so soon, baby girl?” he asked tenderly, a sensation that made Smithy feel nauseous for being taken advantage of. “Why don’t we stay put fer a while. Maybe we can sweeten the deal we just made.”
Pushing the stallion away, Smithy began to refuse his advances. “No!” she hollered, standing up on shaky legs. “Leave me alone! I wanna go home! Yer hurtin' me!”
Before she could say or do anything, Smithy felt herself being thrown onto her back. Diving on top of her, Stinking Rich had Smithy pinned down to the ground. “Ya ain’t goin’ nowhere now, baby girl,” he said in a slimy tone, drowning out her protests with kisses. “I’m gonna get ya to see it mah way, even if I gotta force it outta ya."
Smithy could feel her dress being torn under his advances. The fabric let out a weak ripping noise as Stinking Rich went after his prize. “No!” Smithy screamed, hitting Stinking Rich in the face with her hoof.
He barely flinched at the impact. “Boy howdy! I like a gal with a lil’ fight in her!” he said with a maddening smile as he tore at the skirt of her dress.
Smithy could only hold out so long before she felt him overpower her. She let out a low, pained moan as she felt him tear into her, a sound that only seemed to entice Stinking Rich more. “Please, stop," she begged. “It hurts! Yer hurtin' me!"
Stinking Rich looked Smithy right in the eye as he pressed his body down firmly against hers. “Why, mah sweet baby girl,” he teased, obviously enjoying the power he was holding over her body. "Yer a woman now. It's a woman's job to please her man, and I am mighty pleased."
Smithy panicked as she watched him work. “Somepony help me!” she screamed as she felt him take her by force.
Smithy heard a noise coming from behind the tree. From where she was pinned on the ground she could see something moving around in the shadows.
Stinking Rich heard it too, and slowed his excitement to listen. “Better not be a peepin’ tom!” he hollered into the forest. All that answered him was silence, which suited him just fine. He hadn’t noticed the shadowy figure jumping onto the noose, using it to swing around toward them and kick Stinking Rich square in the head and off of Smithy.
With Stinking Rich knocked aside, the shadowy figure turned to Smithy. It was dressed all in black from head to hooves, with a black hooded cape covering its face. Though her head was spinning, Smithy was elated at the possibility of being rescued. Hearing a low, pained mumble from Stinking Rich, the black dressed shadow threw Smithy on his back and ran before Stinking Rich could get up.
Just hearing about what happened to her grandmother made Applejack upset. “And ya still married him?!?” she nearly shouted, trying to keep herself composed as she mulled over what she had just heard.
Turning to the next page in her scrapbook with a copy of the contract she had signed, Granny Smith began to explain why she had to marry Stinking Rich. “The only way outta this here contract was to marry him,” she explained as she pointed to the loophole. “He just tried to get me to the alter a lil’ quicker that night. ‘Course it didn’t help that we were both drunker than a pair of skunks in heat, and we were ready to go at it. Anywho, he weren’t expectin’ was this to happen.”
Holding up the photo of the zebras, Granny Smith began to giggle girlishly as she thought about the mysterious stallion in black who had saved her that night...
Smithy’s head was spinning as she held on tightly to the running stallion dressed all in black, her hair flying around her due to her up-do falling down. She had no idea where the black dressed stallion was taking her, but the further away she got from Stinking Rich, the safer she felt.
The blackened figure brought her to a large clearing in the woods, revealing the ruins of the ancient castle of the royal pony sisters. The air still seemed to pulse with the temperate magic that Princess Luna used to defend herself before her banishment. Or maybe that was the effects of the alcohol pulsing against Smithy’s head. It was hard to tell.
Stumbling off of the mysterious stallion’s back, Smithy tried to look around at her surroundings as she wobbled on her horseshoes. She didn’t take more than a few steps before slumping down and getting sick all over the ground.
The mysterious stallion gently gathered up Smithy’s hair as she continued to upchuck. “Are you hurt?” he asked as he removed his cape, wrapping it around the weepy, sick pony.
After spitting her last few contents out, Smithy took an opportunity to look up at her savior. “Bladire?” she asked weakly, glad to see a smiling striped face looking down at her. “Is that really y’all? I’m kinda drunk.”
Laughing gently at the comment, Bladire wrapped his arms around his old friend’s shoulders. “You are seeing things as they are,” he said as she rested her head against his strong shoulder.
Smithy was so grateful to have a shoulder to cry upon, and boy did she need a good cry right now. “How could I be so stupid!” she bawled. “I walked right on into it! He had me right where he wanted me the whole time and all I did was follow along like a dog goin’ after a bone! Now he’s got his hooves in my family’s profits, and he got his hooves on me! What kinda monster did I just make a deal with?!?”
Having been Stinking Rich’s slave for several years, Bladire had seen this kind of back alley bargaining before in some fashion or another. “His thoughts are for himself alone,” he said as he looked Smithy in the eyes and wiped the tears from her cheeks. “I have watched him make ponies do horrible things for his gains, and for the gains of the gang he belongs to. Never have I seen him do something like this to another. It grieves me to see you so hurt.”
Of course he had hurt her, more badly than she could have ever imagined she could be hurt by anypony. But she had no idea he was hurting anypony else, or that he had friends who were out doing the same thing. “He’s in a gang?” she asked meekly, thinking about other ponies just like Stinking Rich hurting others.
Bladire nodded sadly at the question. “They are called the Faction of the Stud,” he explained, a shiver of loathing creeping through his spine as he thought of the gang, thinking about how many times he had become an accessory in crime and wondering how he was ever going help Smithy now. “They are an underground criminal group, and they have lead him to believe he can do so many terrible things. If he has worked things as I fear, you may now belong to him. Now that you have signed his papers, you may no longer be safe.”
Moving away from her puddle of sick, Smithy thought about everything that had transpired that day and how it had all lead to this. How could she let herself get so swept up in everything? And how could she let Stinking Rich take so much from her in such a short amount of time? “I don’t feel good again,” she said as she bent down to get sick once more.
Once the sickness was over, Bladire lead the ill pony to a nearby creek to clean her up. After running through the woods and the upset stomach, Smithy really was a mess. “Please, clean yourself,” he gently suggested as he lead her to the water.
Grateful for the chance to clean up and to wash the taste out of her mouth, Smithy began to remove her torn up dress. Taking her first step in the water was heavenly. The water was perfect, and Smithy felt so relieved as she began to sink into it. It just felt good to relax after such a horrible day.
As Smithy took to the water to clean herself up, Bladire began trying to fold the discarded dress. He’d thought about trying to clean it for her in the creek, but after seeing the stains and rips in the torn yellow and white fabric he wasn’t sure if it was worth saving.
While examining the fabric, he caught sight of the familiar onyx necklace pinned to the inside. “I can not believe it!” he exclaimed as he held it in his hoof, smiling with wide eyes as he held up the precious old trinket. “Kizzy’s necklace! You still have it! After all this time!”
Watching the zebra’s ecstatic behavior made Smithy feel a little bit better. “Ya ever find her?” she asked.
Bladire shook his head, his smile fading a bit with the question. “I have not,” he explained. “I hope to be able to find her here in this new town. If I am lucky she will be here.”
Smithy thought about how hard it must have been to be without family for so long. “I could help ya look,” she offered enthusiastically.
Though he appreciated the mare’s enthusiasm, Bladire knew it would not be an easy task. “My master would never allow it,” he sighed. “I fear for his cruelty, and for those in the Faction. All that I can hope for is the comfort of knowing she is alive and well.”
Seeing the way the zebra shuttered, Smithy decided to get out of the water to go to him. “Why does he call ya ‘Toby’ anyway,” she asked. “That ain’t yer name, so why don’t he just use yers?”
Bladire sighed as he took off the rest of his black clothing. “Do you see my back?” he asked, revealing a variety of long, gnarled scars. “My master owns a whip, and he uses it often. He used it the day he took my name and made me use another.”
Smithy pawed at the gouges in disbelief. “He did this?” she asked, staring wide eyed at the scars and feeling even more disgusted in the man who had taken advantage of her.
Bladire nodded sadly, feeling even more horrible that the scars had gotten Smithy upset again. “Do not be alarmed,” he said, trying to lift her spirits. “They no longer hurt.”
This was clearly not the right thing to say, because Smithy backed away in horror and began to weep again. “No, no, no!” she cried, covering her face with her hooves. “I can’t stand to hear he’s hurtin’ ya! I just can’t!”
Trying to think of a way to cheer her up, Bladire splashed her with some water from the creek. “Hey!” she squealed. “What’d ya do that fer!”
Relived to see the change of tone, Bladire splashed her again. “You do not like to play, Smithy?” he said as he splashed her in the face, getting an eruption of laughter from her. To his relief, Smithy began to splash him back. Before they knew it they were soaked, laughing as they jumped into the water.
The splashing soon turned into a good spirited game, the two of them splashing and laughing in the water. After such a serious talk it just felt good to have an excuse to smile.
Bladire was relieved that Smithy was beginning to feel better, though he knew it was only just a temporary distraction. As they rested against the shore to catch their breath, he reached for her hoof. “I need to see you home soon,” he said, trying to sound more serious. “I fear for your safety. I do not want to see you be attacked again.”
Sad to know that the friendly visit would soon be coming to an end, Smithy hugged her dear zebra friend closely. “I owe ya such a debt of thanks,” she said softly as she snuggled comfortably in his arms. “Yer too good fer all ya've been through, and yer too good fer the likes of me. How am I ever gonna thank ya fer all ya’ve done?”
Bladire smiled as he looked deeply into his dear friends eyes. “You are you,” he replied. “That is all I can ever ask of you.”
Leaning in closer than before, Smithy brought her face up to Bladire’s so that she could kiss him. She was pleasantly surprised to feel him returning the kisses, surprised by how good it felt to be held in somepony else’s arms.
Cutting the kisses short, Bladire held her back. “Forgive me,” he said in a shaking voice. “I can not let you do this to yourself. I fear I am putting you in danger.”
Smithy was disappointed, but understood his reasoning. “No, I… well,” she said meekly. “It’s just nopony treats me like ya do. Everypony else in town just acts different ‘cause we’re such an influential family. For once it’s just nice to not have to act like somepony else 'round somepony who I know cares 'bout me.”
Bladire blushed at the compliment. “Why do you treat me as an equal?” he asked, trying to resist the urge to hold Smithy close to him.
Smithy rested her head against his shoulder and closed her eyes. She was surprised to feel his heart beating as fast as hers. “Ya remember that night we met in the alley in Canterlot?” she asked, feeling Bladire nodding. “I thought a lot 'bout ya the night mah daddy got outta Foalsom Prison. I wanted to know why them guards took ya away that night we met. We never really got a chance to talk that night, and that’s mah fault. I thought that if I got a chance to talk to ya, get to know ya for who ya were, that I could decide for mahself if ya were a good pony or not.”
Bladire took a deep breath to calm his emotions, a gesture which did not work. “I had no idea,” he said as a tear landed in the water. “I have never had a fair chance in this land. So many think me an animal, one that can be used as a thing. But you, you make me feel like a pony.”
Smithy could feel the angry heat rising in her cheeks. “It’s all that Stinkin’ Rich’s fault," she grumbled. "Why, if it weren’t fer him I’da talked to the princess all 'bout ya, but I was so scared he’d getcha hurt, so I kept mah mouth shut all this time. And he still found a way to hurt ya anyway.”
Bladire took a deep, shaking breath as he felt Smithy hugging him. “It is as though he owns us both now,” he said as he rested his head sadly against Smithy’s, knowing deep down that what he was feeling for her would never be accepted in the eyes of those around him. “He has the power to take much from us. What more will he want to take? And when?”
Smithy looked the crying zebra in the eyes, brushing the steady stream of tears from his cheeks. “I love ya, Bladire," she said softly, her own eyes leaking with emotion. “Stinkin' Rich may own both of us now, but he ain’t got what we got together."
Overwhelmed by the courage it took to say what she said, Bladire returned the intensity of her gaze. “And I love you as well,” he said as he pulled her close enough to kiss. “Your friendship has meant more to me than you know.”
Smithy was pleased to feel the kisses becoming more passionate, and allowed for Bladire’s hooves to wander under the water. Feeling her body growing more eager, she felt more than ready to allow for the zebra to couple with her. Unlike his predecessor, he was gentle and patient with her sore and tender body, taking his time to think of her needs like a real gentleman.
Granny Smith blushed as she looked at the photo of the zebras. “He was real gentleman like with me,” she said, thinking of the night she shared with Bladire.
Applejack covered her face with her hat to hide her embarrassment over hearing such personal details. "Ya know there's young ears in the room, granny!" she exclaimed, feeling her grandmother pinch her blushing cheeks.
She watched Applejack give her a sour look at the mention of intimacy with the zebra. “Ya'd be surprised how powerful an aphrodisiac fear can be,” she said, smiling like a dirty old lady as she held up the photo of the zebras, “and this lil’ one here’s the result of it!”
Smithy had barely slept a wink that night. Her head was spinning in a sleep deprived stupor as she walked up to her dressing table mirror. She’d spent the whole night thinking of everything that had happened in the Everfree Forest, and the bags under her eyes were the byproduct of it. She’d rattled the events around over and over in her mind. If only she could see that contract again to find a loophole.
She could see in the mirror that she was still wearing Kizzy’s necklace around her neck after last night’s romantic foray with Bladire. She smiled as she touched the onyx charm, thinking fondly about the intimate time she had spent with the zebra. Giggling girlishly, Smithy thought about how much she was looking forward to seeing him again. She knew she just had to find a way to free him so that they could start thinking about their future together.
Smithy breathed a heavy yawn as she brushed and braided her mane and tail. She was really looking forward to several cups of coffee before doing her chores for the day. The quiet of apple bucking would give her more time to think, unless she ended up falling asleep on the job. Today was going to be a good day to bring a thermos full of coffee out into the fields, with lots of cream and sugar to help wash it down.
Hearing a knock at her bedroom door, Smithy knew it was her daily wake up call from her father. “Ya decent?” he joked like he did every morning before opening his daughter’s door. He smiled as he watched his daughter tie her shawl over her shoulders. “I’m glad to see yer up already. I was afraid I’d find ya still in bed after I heard ya get home late last night. What were y’all up to anyways?”
Before Smithy could reply, she could hear her mother calling from downstairs. “Smithy! Ya got a visitor!” she called up the stairs in a sing song tone.
The last pony Smithy was expecting to see standing in her kitchen that morning was Stinking Rich. Her eyes flew open in surprise at the brazen visit. How dare he think he was welcome in her home after what he had done to her!
Sew n’ Sow smiled as soon as she saw her daughter coming down the stairs. “Look! He brought flowers!” she beamed as she put a large vase of red roses on the kitchen table.
Not being fooled by the gesture, Smithy eyed the suave pony with contempt. “What’s he doin’ here?” she asked her mother while giving Stinking Rich the stink eye.
Putting on the good boy act, Stinking Rich lowered his straw hat. “Beggin’ yer pardon fer wakin’ ya so early, baby girl,” he said with a gentlemanly smile. “I just really wanted to stop by and talk to ya 'bout last night by ourselves, maybe over a nice breakfast?”
Smithy could see right through his phony act. “Mama’s got eggs and toast on the stove,” she said flatly.
Her father let out a good natured laugh as he poured a cup of coffee for himself. “Hogs wallop,” he said as he took a seat at the kitchen table. “Why don’t ya two love birds head on out fer some vittles, mah treat.”
Smithy felt as though she was being sold as she watched her father slide a small stack of bits across the breakfast table. She opened her mouth to say something, but couldn't find the words to describe how outraged she felt. What had happened last night was unladylike, and she was worried that her parents would disapprove of her for getting herself in such a predicament.
Stinking Rich put on the humble act as he accepted the money. “Ah, Mr. Seed, that’s too good of ya,” he said as he pocketed the bits. “I sure owe ya one! Maybe after breakfast I can come by and help with some chores. I bet Smithy could use some help, what with that timberwolf attack last night. Must have kept her up all night worryin’!”
“Timberwolves?!?” the Apple grandchildren said in unison.
Granny Smith nodded in disgust at their question. “Yep, he was tellin’ a tall tale of darin’ rescue to mah folks as an excuse fer why I got home late and why mah dress was so tore up. I hadn’t told mah folks what really happened yet ‘cause I wasn’t sure they’d believe a word I said. That and the fact that I weren’t too sure how they’d react to me bein’ saved by a zebra, let alone the taboo of takin’ one as a lover. Ponies just didn't talk 'bout stuff like that openly when I was younger. How Stinkin' Rich figured out how I’d snuck back inside without mama and daddy knowin’ I was home I’ll never know, let alone the fact I hadn’t spoken a word of it to ‘em. All mama and daddy saw was somepony who was sweepin’ their lil’ girl off her hooves...”
The whole conversation was making Smithy lose her appetite. The fact that her family was eating up this good boy act like the eggs on their plates made her feel sick, especially since she herself had already dined on the fruits of Stinking Rich’s lies. Her skin crawled when she felt him wrap a foreleg over her shoulders. “Wait ‘til ya see what I got fer ya outside,” he said triumphantly.
It wasn’t the carriage that surprised Smithy as she walked out the front door. It was seeing Bladire tied to the back by a harness. The shock alone made her walk out the door wide eyed and jaw dropped.
Knowing that his plan had worked, Stinking Rich lead her to the carriage and opened up the door like a true gentleman. Smithy looked back to her parents, who were waving her on encouragingly. Once again, she was stuck in a situation she did not want to be in, only to go along with it due to what was expected of her.
Feeling the carriage jerk forward, Smithy could see her farm house roll out of the frame of the carriage window. Everything looked almost surreal as it rolled past the window, but Smithy couldn’t take her eyes off of it. It was either that or make eye contact with Stinking Rich, and she was not eager to do that.
She could feel his hoof touching her shoulder, which she shook off uncomfortably. “Why the hay did ya bring me out here?” she complained, still refusing to make eye contact.
She could hear him rustling around the carriage for something, but she didn’t care to turn and look. “Here,” he said as he set a small stack of papers on her lap. “It’s a copy of yer contract. I remember ya sayin’ ya wanted to go over it with me last night. I thought now’d be a good time fer goin' over it together. This way ya can see I'm right in what I did.”
For the first time since the start of the ride, Smithy took her eyes off the window. “I wanted to look it over last night before I signed it,” she said spitefully as she scanned over the contract. “Iff’n ya hadn’t threatened me and taken advantage of me like ya did, I’d be more inclined to talk it over.”
There was an awkward silence in the carriage as it rolled along the road. Smithy was too busy reading over the contract to even pay attention to where the carriage was taking her.
She could feel Stinking Rich getting antsy in the seat next to her. “Ya done yet?” he asked impatiently.
Smithy rolled her eyes at the immature behavior. “What’s gotcha so snippy?” she replied rudely.
She could see him scooting closer to her with that flirty look on his face. “I’d like to get on to more pleasant things to talk 'bout,” he said with an easy smile.
Smithy felt a shiver go down her spine as she turned away from him, burying her gaze into the contract. In spite of the fact that she hated all that he had done, she could not deny how physically attractive she still found him to be. The last thing she wanted to do was be blindly won over again by his manly charms.
As she tried to concentrate on reading the contract, she reached up to touch the onyx necklace hiding under her shawl. She let out a deep sigh as she tried to digest the whole situation, finding a small comfort in the touch of the smooth stone and what it represented to her.
The gesture was an odd one, and Stinking Rich noticed how it seemed to sooth the woman he was trying to seduce again. “What ya got there?” he asked, trying to figure out what she had hidden under her shawl.
Smithy turned around quickly as she tried to hide the necklace from view. “What? Nothin’. Why ya ask?” she said unconvincingly, holding protectively onto her shawl.
The gesture alone told Stinking Rich that she was hiding something. “Ya sure?” he asked playfully as he reached for her shawl, laughing at Smithy’s girlish protests.
It took a bit of effort, but the shawl fell to the floor of the carriage. “The hay is this ugly thing?” Stinking Rich said as he yanked the necklace from Smithy’s neck, breaking the braided chain in the process.
Smithy began to blush angrily as she tried to get it back. “It’s just somethin’ I’ve had a long time,” she said, trying to sound innocent as she fought to get it back.
Stinking Rich was having fun holding it high above his head where Smithy couldn’t reach it. “Where’d ya get it?” he teased as he pushed Smithy away.
Smithy squealed as she jumped for the necklace. “It’s none of yer business!" she hollered. "Just give it back! Stoooooop!”
The shouted command prompted the stallions pulling the carriage to stop in a screeching halt, causing Bladire to smack head first into the back of the carriage. Stinking Rich laughed at the reaction, enjoying the sudden attention the necklace was allowing him. “I bet that ziggler out there gave it to ya,” he accused, glad to see Smithy backing down. He could see her bite down on her bottom lip and look away from him as she tried to think up something to say, unconsciously letting him know he had guessed correctly.
Taking advantage of his size and her guard being down, Stinking Rich pushed Smithy down on her back on the carriage bench. “Well, ain’t this a familiar sight,” he said lecherously, enjoying the sudden panic he saw on Smithy’s face.
Smithy whimpered as she shook her head, tears streaming down her face. “I don’t wanna do this again,” she sobbed as she tried to wiggle free from his advances.
Stinking Rich kissed Smithy hard, enjoying how easy it was to control her. “'Bout time I finished what I started last night," as he pawed at the helpless mare beneath. “I bet yer daddy don’t even know I made a woman outta ya, does he?”
Stinking Rich laid his weight onto her chest, enjoying the distressed sounds Smithy was making as he began taking what he wanted by force. “I bet yer daddy’s lil’ baby girl, ain’t ya? Apple of his eye,” he said meanly, watching her thrash around in panic as he held her down. “It’s a shame yer not willin’ to be more helpful to me. Maybe I can get yer daddy to be more agreeable instead.”
The very thought made Smithy gasp in horror. “Ya wouldn’t dare do this to mah daddy!” she hollered defiantly.
At first, Stinking Rich was confused by Smithy's reply, but that look turned into fits of laughter. “Ya sure got some imagination, baby girl!” he chuckled before returning to his violating task. “'Course I ain't gonna have him like I got ya right now. He can’t give me the thrills his baby girl can give me, but I could still get some use outta him. ‘Course, when I’m done with him, them boys in Foalsom Prison can have their go at him. I bet he’s used to it seein’ how he’s been there before.”
Just hearing the words ‘Foalsom Prison’ was upsetting enough for Smithy, causing a fresh stream of panicked tears to pour down her face. Once again, Stinking Rich had her right where he wanted her. “All I gotta do is set him up after I get all the usefulness I can outta him, and I won’t lay a hoof on ya while he’s mine for the takin’,” he explained. “And once I got him caught up in jail, he’ll want somepony to take care of his farm, his lil’ woman, and his sweet lil’ baby girl. A fella with a reputation like his only wants what’s best fer his family, and I’ll get what’s best fer me.”
The whole sordid deal made Smithy feel awful. “Don’t make mah daddy go back to prison!” she begged. "Why would ya even wanna do such a thing!?! What'd he ever do to y'all?"
Stinking Rich couldn’t have been more pleased with how things were going, especially physically. “I need me a nice gal like yerself fer errands and such, and iffn ya do what I ask, yer daddy won't know a thing 'bout what's goin' on,” he explained. “Ya got the good reputation, the nice looks to go with it, and a big enough piece of property fer me to work with. Nopony’ll suspect a thing comin’ from such a good lil’ baby girl like yerself.”
It was difficult to think the whole thing over with Stinking Rich rolling around on top of her. “How do I know ya won’t dump me off in Foalsom Prison when yer done with me?” she asked seriously.
It was a valid question, one that Stinking Rich knew he could once again take advantage of. “Ya could always bribe me with those purdy lil’ eyes of yers, and all them other purdy lil’ things of yers. That’s somethin’ yer daddy could never do,” he said suggestively. "We got us a deal or what?"
Smithy hated herself for doing this, but her family's well being was on the line. "Don't hurt no pony I care 'bout, and ya got a deal," she sobbed.
Stinking Rich began to laugh as he continued enjoying himself. "Looks like I got more than I bargained fer," he moaned loudly. “Mean time I’ll keep this here necklace of yers fer collateral. I gotta make sure I’m keepin’ ya honest with me now.”
Bladire could hear the whole deal from where he was tied up outside the carriage. He shed a tear as he felt the carriage jerking forward, signaling that the sordid deed was done and a deal had been made. Like himself, she now belonged to Stinking Rich. He had spent the entire night trying to figure out how he was going to protect Smithy from his master, but now he wasn’t sure if there was anything he could do at all.
It had been less than three months since the deal had been made, and Smithy was already showing signs of it. Doing what she could to conceal it in overalls, Smithy tried to go about her days as if nothing had happened between herself and another man. The longer the routine played out, the harder it got to hide.
Staring down at her slightly expanded belly, she couldn’t help wondering who the father was. If it was Bladire’s, she feared she would lose it to Stinking Rich, and if it was Stinking Rich’s, she was afraid she would lose Bladire.
It didn’t help that Stinking Rich came around fairly often to court her. She hated having to play the happy couple with Stinking Rich for her family, especially when he made her help the Faction of the Stud with petty crimes, slave trafficking, drug dealing, and money laundering. Other nights he would take her back to the ritzy condo where Faction was staying in Ponyville, taking those opportunities to take liberties with her. All this while her family thought they were having a few innocent nights out on the town. Her family was just thrilled to be seeing more of Stinking Rich coming around to court their daughter, not knowing anything about what had transpired between the two of them. They were content in thinking of their youngest finally having a very special somepony.
Pokey Oaks thought about this good fortune as he raked leaves in the front yard. He was pleasantly surprised to see Stinking Rich walking up the walkway with a mouthful of flowers, and eagerly put down the rake to greet him. “Howdy there, boy!” he said enthusiastically, wrapping a fatherly arm around the handsome pony’s shoulders. “What are ya’ll off to tonight? Dinner? Dancin’? Takin’ in a show?”
Stinking Rich smiled in a good natured way as he listened to the stallion’s innocent suggestions. He couldn’t believe how perfect this doddering old fool was. If only he knew what he and his daughter were really up to at night. “Well, I was thinkin’ maybe we might do somethin’ with y’all family tonight,” he suggested. “I’m thinkin’ a real nice dinner at Hay Bales 'round six sounds kinda nice. I’ll even bring mah folks along. Make it a big treat.”
Pokey Oaks was humbled to be invited to be a part of the evening. “Well, that’s mighty nice of ya,” he said, beaming proudly at the suave pony. “Yer such a nice young man. I’m glad mah baby girl got herself such a gentleman.”
Stinking Rich blushed as he lowered his head demurely. “Ah shucks, Mr. Seed,” she said, acting like the perfect young man. “Ya know what would make it even better though? If she’d let me take her hoof in marriage.”
Pokey Oaks’s jaw dropped at the idea. Running up to the young man with a huge smile on his face, Pokey Oaks began shaking hooves with him. The gesture almost knocked Stinking Rich off his feet. “It’d be a real treat to call ya mah son-in-law!” he beamed, feeling truly blessed to have the honor of being asked for his blessing before the proposal. “So when ya gonnna pop the question? I wanna see the diamond! Ya got it with ya?”
Knowing that things were going just his way, Stinking Rich threw an arm around his soon to be father-in-law’s shoulders. “How ‘bout tonight we all be surprised at Hay Bales? And keep it under yer hat now. Don’t wanna spoil the surprise!” he suggested, getting a naively enthusiastic nod from the older pony. This was just too easy!
What he didn't know is that Smithy had overheard the conversation from her bedroom window. She wanted to scream, cry, throw a fit, do anything, but with all the disreputable deeds she had done in the past few months, she knew that she had brought it all upon herself.
The Apple grandchildren watched their grandmother turn to a wedding invitation in the scrapbook. “I had to say yes,” she explained. “He had me surrounded by all them friends and family that it would of caused a scene if I’d said no. I just had to play along all night, feelin’ terrible to be tricked again…”
Stinking Rich had pulled all the stops on this proposal. The staff at Hay Bales had brought out their finest wines and ciders to make sure everyone’s heads were swimming in liquor and love. The engagement diamond that Smithy wore around her neck was huge, like a beacon to those around her that she belonged to him. He’d even managed to get Prairie Tune and his band to play for them.
The band recently made a new record with the help of a new band member, a pegasus girl named June. Smithy had to admit to herself that she was surprised to see this girl hanging around as long as she had given her brother’s track record with women.
The Seeds and the Rich’s had gathered around and cheered to the good fortune of their children, too wrapped up in the festivities to see the bitterness in Smithy’s eyes or the look of victory in Stinking Rich’s. Talk of profits, babies, and where the happy couple would live took up much of the family’s talking. All Smithy could think about was how this news would effect Bladire.
The band struck up an enthusiastic tune and called out to the families to get up and dance. Taking the opportunity to be nearer to his bride-to-be, Stinking Rich reached for Smithy with a romantic look in his eye. The coos and cat calls from friends and family were more of an encouragement to say yes than her new fiancé’s request to dance. The band whooped and hollered their congratulations as they strummed up their latest single that was taking the radio by storm:
We got married in a fever, Hotter than a pepper sprout, We've been talkin' 'bout Canterlot, Ever since the fire went out.
We’re goin' to Canterlot, And that's a fact. Yeah, we're goin' to Canterlot, Ain't never comin' back.
Stinking Rich laughed giddly at the song as he do-se-doed with his new fiancé. “Reminds me of the night we danced at the Box Social, don’t it, baby girl,” he suggested as they promenaded around the room, his breath reeking of liquor.
Smithy held her breath to keep from saying what was on her mind, and to keep the smell out of her nostrils. The last thing she wanted to think about was the night he had set her up into the life she was living now. All eyes were on them as Stinking Rich impromptuly dipped his bride-to-be during the dance. Smithy held onto him for dear life as he leaned her back, trying not to look nervous about the possibility of being dropped on the floor. Stinking Rich picked her back up to her feet, planting a big kiss upon Smithy’s lips after letting out an excited “yeeha!”
All the attention made Smithy feel worse than ever. She buried her face in Stinking Rich’s neck, hoping that the crowd would just find it as a sign of endearment instead of a desperate desire to hide. She was grateful to hear her brother’s band starting up a slow song, hoping that the music’s mood could help conceal her shaking. It felt like she was trapped as she danced with her new fiancé, the sensation of his arms around her feeling like a set of chains.
She could feel him giggling at her behavior, which just added insult to injury. “I thought brides were supposed to be happy,” he joked meanly. “And now ya won’t have to be so scared of that bulge in yer belly.”
Smithy’s hoof flew protectively to the growing infant that lay trapped within her, which just made Stinking Rich laugh all the more. “I knew it weren’t all them fancy dinners makin’ yer belly bigger! Looks like I weren’t too careful with ya after all! I sure hope it’s a boy!”
Smithy’s reactions had confirmed Stinking Rich’s deduction that his new fiancé was pregnant. The fact that he’d been so clever even for being so drunk made Smithy blush angrily. She couldn’t stand being around Stinking Rich any longer. “Excuse me,” she said in a low, frustrated whisper. “I gotta go freshen up.”
Smithy ran to the women's restroom, her chest heaving with emotion. She broke down and cried, hoping for a moment's peace without friends or relatives gawking at her.
Instead of getting the peace and quiet she craved, her hysterics were interrupted by her sister-in-law, Sunflower, coming out of one of the outhouse stalls. "Smithy?" she asked, grabbing some toilet paper to dab at her sister-in-law's eyes. "You okay, honey? What's got you so worked up?"
Knowing what a gabbing gossip Sunflower could be, Smithy did everything in her power to calm down. "Ain't brides supposed to get emotional?" she lied, purposefully blowing her nose as grossly as she could to get her sister-in-law to back off.
Sunflower chuckled at the reaction. "Oh, a couple of crocodile tears are one thing, but you're bawling like a banshee," she explained, hugging Smithy like a crying filly. "Now come on. I'm worried about you. Besides, how am I supposed to get you to ask me to be a bridesmaid if I don't help the bride?"
Smithy pushed Sunflower away. "I want some time alone!" she hollered, fresh tears pushing their way out of her eye sockets. "Can't ya get that through yer thick head! Just... oh, forget it!"
Smithy ran out of the women's restroom, ignoring Sunflower's concerned calls. She ran out the back exit to avoid seeing too many more friends and family. While she realized that not returning to the party would look suspicious, all she could think about was how horrible it was to keep her feelings locked up for the rest of the evening. She knew she would find Bladire at the condo where the Faction of the Stud was staying, and she just had to tell him what had happened. She knew that he was the only one who would understand her.
Bursting into the condo, Smithy was glad to have found Bladire tidying up the living room area along with a few other slaves. The other slaves were shocked to see the hysterical green pony throwing her arms around one of their own. “What am I gonna do now, Bladire!” she wailed, not noticing the other zebra’s confused reactions. “He asked me to marry him! In front of everypony! And he figured out I’m pregnant!”
Seeing how uncomfortable the rest of the zebra slaves were starting to get, Bladire lead his crying companion into the bedroom that Stinking Rich was using so that they could have some privacy. “Shhhhhh. Still yourself now,” he said gently, trying to keep a calm demeanor in spite of the news he had just heard. “Breath, my dear one. Please, tell me calmly what bothers you.”
After several deep breaths, Smithy explained everything that had transpired that evening, explaining the set up she had been placed into and just how he had figured out she was with child. It didn’t help that he’d been taking advantage of her body multiple times since the night he had taken her by force in the Everfree Forest, using his charms with her parents and with the town to get his way. Smithy hated him for how manipulative he was with her, and how powerless she was to say anything.
Bladire held Smithy as she spilled her feelings out, trying to think of a solution as he listened to the tale of woe. “I feel that this is not as badly as you fear,” he said optimistically.
Smithy choked on her sobs as she heard the zebra speak. “Not as bad!” she bellowed, angry to see Bladire trying to suddenly hush her. “Mah worst fears are comin’ to life here! How in Celestia’s name is this not as bad!”
In an attempt to help her see the silver lining in this situation, Bladire went to Stinking Rich’s safe. Being the silently observant type, Bladire had watched his master fumble with the combination enough times to know it by heart. Ignoring the several treasures kept within the safe, Bladire made for the one most precious to him. “You remember this?” he said, pulling out the contract that Smithy had signed. “You know what will nullify it, do you not?”
Shaking her head, Smithy took the contract from Bladire. “Will burnin’ it make it go away?” she said, glancing over the worst pieces of paper she had ever had the misfortune of coming across.
Taking a frustrated breath, Bladire sprawled the document out on the bed. During his time in Canterlot, Bladire had learned to read. He had kept that fact a secret from his master for fear of his life, especially since he had heard of zebras being killed for that skill. “Here,” he said, pointing to the bottom of one of the pages. “The contract is void upon becoming his wife. You can gain your freedom by accepting his proposal.”
Rather than helping make sense of the situation, reading the loophole just made Smithy cry all the more hysterically. “Have ya lost yer marbles!?!” she hollered, beating her hooves so hard on the bed that the contract papers flew everywhere. “He’s a bully! And a thief! And a mobster! And a trickster! And he’s a two timin’, low life, manipulative slime ball! And ya want me to marry him!?! What’s got into yer head!!!”
Knowing that the screaming would surely attract the neighbor’s attention, Bladire did the only thing he could think of to quiet her. “Hush! Now!” he yelled, feeling terrible for having to shake Smithy so hard. “You must listen before you judge me, and forgive me for what I must say. But when it is said I only hope that you will understand.”
Watching Smithy rub her pained shoulders and look up at him with those big, wet, scared eyes made Bladire feel all the more terrible for his concocted plans. “As his wife, you will become a slave owner, which will mean that you will own me. By owning me, you will allow me the freedom I need to find a means for us to escape. I can not find a way on my own, but together we will find a way to be free. I need you to play along, only for a short time.”
He hated himself for thinking of this plan, knowing what all he would have to put Smithy through in order to gain his freedom. He had to turn his eyes away from that soulful gaze of hers that seemed to eat away at his heart. Glad to be distracted by the tidying of the wayward contract papers, Bladire went about picking up what felt more like a terrible idea than a precious commodity.
The moment was cut short at the sound of the condo’s front door slamming open. The place was instantly filled with the sounds of whooping and hollering as the boys of the Faction of the Stud made their way in. Gathering up the papers and Smithy, Bladire ran to the closet. “Hide!” he whispered fearfully, shoving Smithy to the corner before he stuffed the contract back into the safe and slammed the door. “Whatever happens, stay where you are!”
The door of the bedroom swung open, revealing a very drunk Stinking Rich. “Toby!” he hollered, smacking Bladire hard on the rump. “What are ya doin’ in mah closet ya shifty ziggler? Puttin’ stripes all over mah good clothes?”
Thinking quick on his hooves, Bladire grabbed a nice pair of shoes in his mouth before turning to his master. “No sir, Master Rich!” he said with false enthusiasm. “I am looking for those shoes you need shined! You sure know how to scuff up some shoes, Master Rich!”
Stinking Rich leaned in close to the pair of shoes, eyeing them over. Bladire put on a huge grin as his master examined the scuffs, swallowing back his anxiety as the drunken pony laughed. “Boy, yer always lookin’ fer somethin’,” he said, much to his slave’s relief. “Say, while yer at it, why not add a pair or two on that shine pile. I know I got some real bad ones in here needin’ a good shine.”
Bladire felt his stomach tying in knots as his master stumbled to the closet. He closed his eyes as the closet door swung open, expecting to hear screaming. Instead, all he heard was rummaging.
Stinking Rich emerged from the closet with a pair of boots in his mouth. “There’s them boots of mine!” he proclaimed as he tossed a pair of glossy black boots on the floor. “Why don’t ya give them shoes to Tess fer the night. She’s a right good shiner, and we’re gonna want fer ya to entertain us!”
As Bladire bent down to pick up the glossy boots, he spied a pair near the back of the closet shaking. Concealed by an oversized coat and wearing the shaking boots was Smithy. Relief swept over the zebra as he took both pairs of shoes out of the room, using his tail to close the door behind him.
The other four Faction boys were sprawled out on living room couches and chairs, swigging on mugs of cider and smoking cigars. They cheered as Stinking Rich lead his slave out before them. “Who wants to see this ziggler dance?” Stinking Rich exclaimed, getting an eruption of cheers from his fellow ponies.
Bladire hated doing this, but knew that if he was going to keep his skin and his girl safe that he would have to do as he was instructed, even if it meant humiliating himself in front of a bunch of drunken, ignorant ponies.
Getting up on his hind legs, Bladire began to tap his hooves on the hardwood floors, all the while wearing an obnoxious smile on his face. The boys began to holler their approval over the impromptu soft show number. “Up on the table boy!” a bright orange unicorn ordered, zapping at Bladire’s hooves with his horn to make him jump.
The pain of the zap made Bladire leap up on the coffee table, which got the crowd chuckling. The unicorn zapped at Bladire’s feet again, getting a thrill out of how high the zebra jumped. Another dark green earth pony began to throw cigar butts at Bladire’s feet to keep the dancing interesting. Bladire tripped over one of the cigar butts and fell upon the table, the force of the fall making the coffee table break in half.
Stinking Rich smacked his slave in the face. “I gotta pay fer that ya reckless ziggler!” he yelled. “Now clean that up, ya ingrate, and apologize to Beamer and Dice fer spoilin’ their fun.”
Smithy had snuck up to the bedroom door to witness the whole thing through a slightly opened slit. She was angry to have to watch Bladire limping away from the broken table with a piece of debris in his teeth. The only thing that made it worse was watching the Faction boys laughing at the whole thing while throwing cigar butts at him.
One of the other zebra slaves, a young female about her age, approached the wreckage to help clean it up. As she grabbed a table leg in her teeth, she noticed a stocky beige pegasus eyeing her. “Say there, lil’ darlin’,” he said, reaching drunkly for the zebra’s flank. “Yer awfully cute fer somethin’ with so many stripes.”
Stinking Rich laughed as the pegasus began to touch the zebra, even as she backed away uncomfortably. “Like what ya see there, Tumbleweed?” he chuckled as he jumped up on the sofa.
Tumbleweed nodded lecherously at the pretty zebra slave that he was pawing at. “She don’t look broke in yet,” he said upon further drunken examination.
The zebra tried to suppress her shuddering at the bad touch, closing her eyes and turning her head away. She felt another pony pawing at her lips, which made her eyes pop wide open.
Tumbleweed shot his russet colored unicorn friend a dirty look as he poked him in the side. “Back off now, Tater!” he said. “Ain’t enough of this one to go 'round.”
Tater laughed at the comment as he examined the zebra’s face. “She looks like she can take two of us,” he said as he put a hoof in the slave’s mouth. “One’s just gotta take the front while the other takes the back. Beamer, Dice, and Stinking Rich can have a go after us.”
Stinking Rich shook his head. “No thanks y’all,” he said with a broad smile. “I’m gettin’ married, remember? I’d rather get mah baby girl in here and give her the business anyway. Y’all can have all the fun ya want with Lizza here, mah treat. I’m gonna wait fer mah woman and make it proper like.”
Dice shook his head as he reclined on the easy chair. “Where’d that pretty lil’ thing go off to anyway?” he asked.
Stinking Rich shrugged his shoulders as he laid back on the sofa. “Dunno,” he said while putting his hooves behind his head. “Don’t matter though. She’ll be comin’ 'round in no time. In the mean time, why don’t ya get that purdy ziggler dancin’? I shouldn’t touch, but I sure can look!”
Smithy turned away from the door crack. She was disgusted thinking about what was going to happen to poor Lizza. That zebra girl didn't deserve the treatment she was about to endure, and just thinking about it made Smithy's stomach turn over. Surely the sound of her stomach getting upset would attract attention. Running up to the nearest window, Smithy leapt out so that she could puke in peace, letting loose before she could make it to the trash cans.
Limping out with a bag of trash in his teeth, Bladire noticed the next mess he would have to clean up. “We need to get you out of here,” he said quickly, looking over his shoulder to make sure the coast was clear. “The Faction will stay busy with Lizza long enough for you to get home. Now hurry.” Bladire hated himself for thinking of the other slave girl as a means of escape, but there was precious little time for that now. He was just grateful to know that Smithy had found a way of escaping from the closet on her own.
Smithy could only nod miserably as Bladire lead her away to safety. “That poor girl,” she whimpered. “We gotta get her away from here too. Do ya really think ya can find a way to freedom? And do ya think that girl can come with us?”
Bladire leaned close to the upset pony, nuzzling her wet cheek. “Look into the sky, my dear,” he encouraged. “The stars form a pattern, don’t you see? Like a drinking gourd. We must follow it’s directions to freedom, to the edge of this land. We will travel by boat to Zebrica, and find our freedom there.”
Smithy stared up at the constellation, having a hard time putting the pieces together. “How’d ya think of followin’ The Big Dipper?” she asked, tilting her head sideways as she looked up into the sky.
Bladire could see the confusion on Smithy’s face. She was a simple pony, which was something he found endearing about her. “As a slave, I can not freely speak with others,” he explained. “We sing to pass messages along. This song tells one the path to freedom with the aid of friendly sailors, using the stars to guide us.”
Apple Bloom listened to her grandmother crooning the song that Bladire had taught her so long ago. “So where’d it lead to?” she asked.
Flipping to another page with the answer, Granny Smith showed a worn map of Equestria. “It leads right here to Horse Shoe Bay in Baltimare,” she explained, pointing to all the doodles and plans etched into the map. “Course comin’ up with the plans to get there was half the challenge. In order fer everythin’ to work, I had to get married first.”
The wedding day was set for three months after the engagement, and by the wedding day it was nearly impossible to conceal the fact that there was a baby foal hiding in the bride. Smithy stood sweating in her bedroom in the most elaborate gown she would ever wear in her life, waiting for her father to come and get her so that the ill fated ceremony could start.
All the while, Smithy's mother fussed about getting the last details just right, and all the while Smithy felt like hiding. The only thing that kept her from fleeing were the plans she had hatched with Bladire. Soon they would find a way to freedom and find a way to be together, if only she would bide her time.
The knock at the door made Smithy jump to her feet and back to reality. Her father’s knocking confirmed that it was time, and she knew she had to be brave for the sake of herself, Bladire, the other slaves, and the baby that squirmed around in her belly.
Sew n' Sow rushed up to the door to open it for her husband, who nearly bounded in with excitement. “I hope y’all are decent!” Pokey Oaks exclaimed with a wide grin on his face.
Smithy returned a genuine smile at the sight of her father, who was clearly blown away at the spectacle before him. She was glad to see the old pony happy in spite of the circumstance for marriage. She held out her arms the way she did when she was a child, part of her wanting for him to pick her up and out of where she was like he would do when he picked her up out of the old house window.
Pokey Oaks gently held his daughter's hoof, too afraid to pick her up and ruin her dress. He wiped away a stray tear as he looked at his dressed up little girl. “The apple of mah eye,” he said, barely able to contain the pride in his voice. “I can’t believe today’s the day. And ain’t too soon, given we’ll be seein’ a lil’ Seed sproutin’. I sure can’t wait to be a grampa again!”
Sew n’ Sow rushed to Pokey Oak’s side, trying to hush his ramblings. She knew he was one to keep a conversation going on longer than it needed to go, and right now was not the time to wax poetic. “Save yer speeches fer the reception,” she said, keeping a strong smile on her face. “We gotta get outside now so the weddin’ can start up. I can see all the guests seats filled up right outside the window. Them ponies are startin’ to get kinda wormy, so we best not keep ‘em waitin’.”
Taking a deep, shaking breath, Smithy stepped out onto the porch with her father at her side. They had to shield their eyes from the bright sunshine as they began their slow progression down the aisle. As their eyes adjusted to the light, they began to notice all the small details that Sew 'n Sow had put into her only daughter’s wedding. Everything was perfect, from the decorations to the dresses. Everything that is, accept for the couple getting married.
Standing at the front of the alter was a triumphant Stinking Rich, his best man nudging him playfully and teasing him. The two had to stifle their giggles as Smithy came closer, putting on a much better act for the guests. While it may not have been obvious to the guests present, this was less of a blessed union and more of a victory for the Faction of the Stud.
The sound of Prairie Tune’s band filled the air as Smithy and her father marched down the aisle. She couldn’t help being surprised to see that pegasus girl, June, was still with the band, and that she was still singing so sweetly next to her brother. In fact, the love song they had written for the wedding seemed like something they were singing more to each other instead of for the bride and groom:
I'll be right beside you No matter where you travel I'll be there to cheer you ‘Til the sun comes shinin' through
And if we're ever parted I will keep the tie that binds us And I'll never let it break Cause I love you
No falser words were ever sung as they were that day in Ponyville. Smithy could barely look at her very soon to be husband as her father stood before them, proud to be giving away his only daughter’s hoof to Stinking Rich. She hugged him tightly before he went to his seat, not wanting to let go for fear of what was to come next.
The mayor of Ponyville stood before them to officiate the ceremony. "Y'all can take yer seats," he said, watching the guests present doing as he commanded.
The mayor set the traditional marriage tome on a stand for him to read from. Adjusting his glasses on his bulbous nose, he began to read from it. "We are gathered here today to bare witness to the marriage of Stinkin' Rich and Granny Smith," he said, smiling naively at the couple standing before him. “If anypony has any objections to why this here lovely couple of youngsters shouldn’t be gettin' themselves married, now's the time to say somethin' or forever hold yer tongues."
While Smithy knew nopony would dare say anything for fear of her mother's wrath over ruining her wedding day, she couldn't help hoping to hear an objection anyway. Just the thought of her wedding day being ruined caused a brief but sarcastic smile to tug at the ends of her mouth.
The mayor turned to the first reading of the ceremony. "This here’s a readin' from the Book of Starswirl the Bearded, chapter eight, verses eleven through twenty five," he droned on. "Long time ago, the first weddin' of Equestria was held in the..."
The verse went in one of Smithy’s ears and out the other. She could care less about the first marriage in Equestria, or how the mayor thought it held significance to why she was standing at the alter sweating in an uncomfortable dress next to somepony she despised. She was glad to know that brides often cried on their wedding day, because she had a hard time keeping her tears in check thinking about why she had agreed to this whole ordeal. The only thing keeping her from all out bawling was chewing on the stems from her bouquet, acting as something of a stifling gag and a comfort food all at once.
All too soon, her maid of honor, Sunfower, had to take her bouquet away so she could say her vows. Having to face Stinking Rich was embarrassing and frustrating all at the same time, especially since she had made such an effort to not look at him the whole time. She listened to the mayor read the vows aloud for her to repeat, finding that she barely had the breath in her to speak out loud. “I, Granny Smith," she whispered, closing her eyes tightly to help force the words out, "do take thee, Stinkin' Rich, to be mah husband. From this day forward, to hold close to mah heart, in good times and bad, when ill or well, so long as the sun may shine, I shall love thee all the days of mah life."
Having finally gotten through that whole mess of lies with a straight face, Smithy opened her eyes to listen to Stinking Rich have a turn. When she did, she saw Bladire was standing hidden behind the shrubbery display on the alter. He looked at her with nothing but love for her in his eyes as the mayor began telling Stinking Rich what to say. Mouthing along with his master, he repeated the vows back to her. For the first time that day, Smithy had a genuine smile on her face, imagining having the man she loved standing right before her instead of hidden away like a wonderfully keep secret.
The moment between them was cut off as the mayor pronounced them Mr. and Mrs. Rich. The worse part of all was sealing the deal with a kiss in front of all those witnesses. Smithy was once again glad to have her bouquet stuffed back in her mouth after that to keep her from expressing what she really felt in front of all of Ponyville.
Looking back on some of those wedding photos, Applejack couldn’t help thinking that Granny Smith looked like the most unhappy bride she’d ever seen. “How’d ya get through it?” she asked as she looked at a photo of her grandmother and Stinking Rich marching down the isle together during the recessional.
Granny Smith thought how she drew her strength as she eyed the recessional photo, flowers in her teeth to try to hide the unhappy look. “Just knowin' Bladire was close by got me through the whole thing,” she admitted. “I'd done it all fer him, and seein' him vow to me let me know that we were gonna do everythin’ in our power to find freedom together.”
Because of her pregnancy, Stinking Rich would not allow Smithy to do the farm work that she loved so much for fear of hurting the baby. Her parents saw this order from her husband as an endearing sign of concern, but Smithy knew that this was an excuse for him to get her family used to the convenience of using slaves to work the fields of Sweet Apple Acres. She had to admit, it was a subtle yet effective way for him to gain control.
It killed her to have to watch Stinking Rich’s zebra slaves buck at the apple trees around Sweet Apple Acres, especially since farm work was one of the few joys she had left. She also hated the clothes she was told to wear and the way her husband liked her to wear her hair. It was just another outward display of the control he held over her.
Stinking Rich had everything at Sweet Apple Acres just as he liked it in a matter of weeks after the wedding, using Smithy's pregnancy to his advantage by telling her parents how moving her out right now would be too much of a shock to her system. Sew 'n Sow's fears about her daughter losing a baby like she had in the past was enough of a fear factor for her to insist they stay at Sweet Apple Acres.
Smithy’s parents were convinced that Stinking Rich was so perfect for their little girl that they began arrangements for him to take over their family business after the baby was born, giving him the complete control he craved while catering to his in-laws desire to be near and dear to their grandchild. He played the good boy act like it came natural to him, bucking trees and selling the produce from them at market right beside his in-laws whenever he had free time. He even had them convinced that he was distributing the Seed family's product Equestria wide, using this as a distribution for illegal substance for the Faction of the Stud. Not that Sew 'n Sow or Pokey Oaks knew that the extra profits came from money laundering.
Smithy sat back and watched her parents get swindled on a regular basis, knowing that there was nothing she could do to stop it. There were times when she wanted to talk to her parents about the facade the farm had become or the dirty deeds she had committed while in the farce of a relationship with her husband, but each time she tried, her guilt would seal her mouth shut like a glued box. The very idea of seeing her family get crushed again under the law was heartbreaking after all they had been through. The only possible escape she could see for them is their nieve lack of what was going on. This way they could avoid the burden of truth and get off innocent.
Keeping secrets at Sweet Apple Acres was torture for Smithy, especially knowing that she would be bringing a child into this web of lies. It was a life she knew she didn't want to live herself, let alone have a child live. The more she saw of her husband's illegal lifestyle, the more she ran to Bladire to escape the realization of her marriage. She knew that her affair with him was shameful for a married woman, more so a pregnant one, but the moments that they shared in hidden privacy were the only times she could be herself.
During these adulterous meet ups, Smithy and Bladire would plan their escape from Sweet Apple Acres, choosing to run away from the false pretensions of their lives rather than accept them. Their situation was beyond the point of fixing, and starting fresh together in Zebrica was the most beautiful idea they could dream up together. It was easier than Smithy expected to meet up with Bladire because of Stinking Rich’s time consuming, irrationally scheduled work with the gang. There were some days when she wouldn’t see Stinking Rich at all due to his crime work with the Faction of the Stud, which suited her just fine. She was tired of being an accessory to his crimes, and the idea of being rid of the Faction was becoming more and more inciting as her pregnancy progressed.
Due to her pregnancy, she hadn’t been assigned very many odd jobs from the Faction as she had before she was showing. While she was grateful for the lack of odd jobs, she knew this break couldn’t last. She had less than a month left in her pregnancy, which meant that she would soon have to go back to favors for her husband and for the gang. It was now a high priority for her and Bladire to find a way to escape before the baby was born, because if they waited too long they would run the risk of losing everything.
Smithy thought about how she and Bladire would meet that night to hammer out the final escape plans as she watched Stinking Rich rushing around the bedroom, ordering Lizza to pack whatever he was pointing to at the time for his business trip. “We got a real strong lead in Baltimare,” he explained as his slave held up two different ties for him to choose from. “If we nail them boys in the Brotherhood of Steeds, we could get control of the whole supply chain of cinnamon from Saddle Arabia. That supply route’s a gold mine!”
Lizza stood near the suitcase holding up three bottles of her master’s cologne, listening to the frustration in her master’s voice. “Lizza, ya idiot! Gimme the musky one!” Stinking Rich hollered, watching his slave bow in apology.
Smithy tensed up as Lizza received a swat to the muzzle with a rolled up map. The fact that he would hit a pregnant woman, even though she was a slave, was just another reason for her to want to leave Sweet Apple Acres and never look back. She hated the idea of leaving her family behind, but knew for the safety of the family she would have that she needed to be gone from there.
Stinking Rich ordered Lizza to grab some sweaters for him to choose from. Though winter had just been wrapped up over a week ago, Baltimare was known to get wild coastal snow storms during this time of year that even the best teams of pegasus ponies found difficult to control. "That should do it," he grunted as he pushed down on the over full suitcase. “We’ll be back in a couple weeks anyhow, hopefully in time fer that baby of ours to be born. How long has he been brewin' in yer belly there, baby girl?"
Smithy rested her hoof on her stomach, not wanting to think about it. "Long enough," she answered, her face stiffening from the feeling of her husband kissing her on the cheek.
While she was unhappy being cooped up inside waiting for her baby to be born, it gave Smithy time to get to know her husband's slaves. She and Lizza would sometimes swap pregnancy stories to comfort each other. It was good for them to share a common bond, knowing that they could lean on each other when their unfortunate circumstance would get the better of them.
Another great comfort to her was getting to know Tess, the oldest of her husband's female slaves. Tess was very knowledgeable in the ways of natural remedies, a skill that often helped set Smithy’s upset stomach to rest. Having lost her children to slave sales, Tess was sympathetic to the two women needing her motherly assistance. Her comforting advice and medical care helped Smithy rest easier.
The youngest of the female slaves was a girl named Polly, a pretty girl younger than Smithy. Polly was a bright, nieve child just blossoming into her womanhood. Knowing what happened to Lizza, Smithy felt a need to protect her from whatever perversions the Faction of the Stud might try to put on her.
Admittedly, she knew less about the men than she wanted to. From her bedroom window, she watched the biggest of the zebras working the fields, a hulk of a slave known as Tiny. Despite his slave name and large stature, Tiny was very gentle and observant of his surroundings, often pausing to make sure not to accidentally buck a butterfly or step on a bunny while he worked. Smithy liked to watch him being gentle with her land, wondering what he would do with his life if he were free.
Tiny was at his gentlest when he was working with Charlie, a zebra colt who did not yet have his cutie mark. Charlie was Amos's son, a man who lost his wife to being sold to a different master. Amos often liked working with Tiny and Charlie, sometimes hollering at Tiny for being too soft on his boy and spoiling him.
Amos also seemed to be close to another slave around his age called Homer. Homer's past was still a mystery to Smithy and to several of the other slaves. He tended to keep to himself most of the time, only seeming to want to talk with Amos.
Smithy knew from Tess's stories that there was an old man in the group who went by the name of Old Pete. Old Pete was once a great tracker before time took that gift away from him. Now that he was old, his tracking skills were taught in secret to Bladire, who used what he had learned to plan for the slaves to escape.
Granny Smith pulled out the map from her scrapbook, pointing to the spot where her husband would be for the next few days. “Me and Bladire had a route of our own all planned out fer while he was gone,” she explained, pointing to the route that lead through Froggy Bottom Bog, coming out into the castle ruins, heading down river to Baltimare, and lastly catching a boat at Horse Shoe Bay. “I gotta admit, we were awful worried 'bout gettin’ there since the Faction of the Stud would be up in them parts fer days with that cinnamon racket. I was sure glad Bladire was makin’ so many plans to get us up there safely. We met up that very night to discuss how we were gonna make it to freedom…”
The two lovers meet up in the cellar to enjoy each others comforts and finalize their escape plans. After the sweet release of a brief adulterous interlude, Smithy and Bladire hunkered down over a worn old map with nothing but a firefly lap to see by.
With a pencil in his mouth, Bladire marked the spot in the Everfree Forest where he felt it best that they should enter. “It is covered in a plant known as poison joke,” he explained. “We will make heavy tracks here so that any followers are forced to track us through it, infecting themselves. Lizza, Polly, and Tess know the remedy to cure it quickly so that we will not suffer long, while those who follow us will have to wait the weeks it takes for poison joke to run its course. The infection alone will buy us time.”
Smithy let out an impressed noise as she thought about the clever idea. “I’d never thought of that one,” she said while looking over the planned route. “That time is gonna be useful fer the trip through Froggy Bottom Bog. I hear nasty things 'bout that place, and seein’ as we got two women with babies in ‘em we gotta be extra careful.”
The very thought of the baby made Smithy feel insecure about their carefully laid plans. She looked down at the enormous lump in her stomach, cradling it in her arms as she realized how much was at stake.
Bladire noticed the emotional shift, and rested his hoof upon his lover’s stomach to show his support. “You and Lizza will be well taken care of, on that you can be sure,” he explained softly as they held hooves over the unborn child.
Though the gesture and kind words were comforting, Smithy had an entirely different concern on her mind. “I know we’re both worried ‘bout the trip and all,” she explained as her lover scooted in closer for her to lay her cheek upon his shoulder. “I just worry what this lil’ fella’s gonna be like is all. Considerin’ we had somethin’ special in the Everfree Forest, I’m really hopin’ it’s yers instead of Stinkin’ Rich's. If it ain’t, I… I just don’t know if…”
Bladire held the crying pony as her tears fell upon the lump that housed the baby. “This child has no fault for being alive, nor fault for who gave it life,” he said, adding a few of his own tears to the conversation. “It will be an honor to love it as my own, be it mine or my masters. I give you my word that I will be the father it needs, loving it for the life that it is and for the life that it has ahead of it. So long as we are together on this earth, you have my promise.”
The tender moment was cut short at the sound of the cellar door being opened. Thinking fast, Smithy rushed for the map, sitting on it with her wide dress to conceal it. "Don't just stand there like an idiot with yer mouth all gapin'," she hollered to a very confused looking Bladire. “I said I wanted pickles! Now do what yer told."
It did not take long for Bladire to understand what Smithy was doing. He smiled broadly as he galloped up to a barrel of pickles. “Oh yes, misses," he exclaimed, the grin of an obedient slave plastered across his face to please his watching master standing on the cellar steps. “You want pickles, misses? I will give you pickles! We have salty pickles, sweet pickles, bread and butter pickles..."
Seeing the curiosity rising in her husband's face, Smithy began to panic. She knew that Bladire was putting on the good slave act, but knew that she had to find a way to get Stinking Rich out of the cellar so that they could hide the map. “Pickles! Just pickles!" she exclaimed, acting the part of an unrealistic pregnant woman with killer cravings.
Stinking Rich pushed his slave aside from the barrels. “Step aside, boy," he declared like a hero. “Mah baby's hungry fer somethin' real good."
Smithy held her breath as her husband rolled the barrel of pickles towards her. She watched him stand it in front of her with an elaborate flourish. “Open it fer me," she demanded, watching him roll his eyes at her childlike behavior.
Doing as he was told, Stinking Rich bucked the barrel to loosen the lid. “How many does the baby want?" he teased, lifting the lid to reveal the scent of fresh pickles. “We can take some up with us. Besides, we gotta discuss final plans fer while I'm gone in Baltimare. Iffn ya end up havin' the baby while I'm gone, we gotta put ourselves together a backup plan."
Smithy knew she couldn't get up from the map or else her and Bladire’s plans would be revealed and they would be in a world of trouble. As a final last ditch resort, Smithy grabbed the barrel, pulled it down in front of her, and dug into the pickles inside, spilling pickle juice all over the place.
Stinking Rich stood back from the glutinous display before him. “Come on now, baby girl," he coaxed, "yer gonna ruin that purdy dress I just bought ya."
Smithy continued to slurp and grunt as grossly as she could as she ate what turned out to be a very refreshing treat. “Buy me another one!" came her echoed response from inside the barrel, her voice gurgling between a mouthful of pickles.
Stinking Rich let out a good natured laugh at his wife. He playfully elbowed Bladire in the shoulder as he heard Smithy burp loudly before going for more. “Oh boy, women and their mood swings," he joked meanly. “Clean this here up when she's done, will ya, Toby? And make sure mah wife gets upstairs when she's finished. I gotta lotta plannin' to get through before mah business trip."
Bladire bowed in response to his master’s orders. “Oh yes sir, Master Rich," he said obediently, that slave grin on his face to hide how he felt. "I'm gonna make sure it gets done good now, Master Rich. You got nothing to worry about, no sir Master Rich!"
Pleased with the response, Stinking Rich turned back to the cellar door. “Good boy, Toby," he said as he pushed the door open. "Just don’t keep me waitin' now. I gotta be up early tomorrow."
As soon as the door was closed and Stinking Rich’s hoofsteps disappeared, Bladire burst out laughing. "You are brilliant!" he exclaimed as he gave his love a pickle flavored kiss. “Your skills will be an asset to our lives together in Zebrica. My sister, Kizzy, will love you when we get there."
Smithy swallowed her mouthful of pickles with a big smile on her face. “Ya want one?" she offered, holding out an offering of a pickle.
Smiling genuinely, Bladire accepted the salty treat. “To our freedom," he said, raising the pickle like he was raising a toast.
Smithy repeated the gesture with a half eaten pickle. “To us," she said, her toast ending with a loud hiccup.
Being the sentimental grandson that he was, Big Macintosh let a tear of his own splash down upon the old map. “Sounds to me like y’all were gonna be together forever,” he said as he dabbed at his eyes with a handkerchief.
Granny Smithy sighed heavily as the sting of never knowing what could have been fell heavy upon her thoughts. “I sure wish I coulda known fer mahself,” she regretted as she rested her hoof longingly upon the path they had so carefully planned out on the map. “Poison joke sure has a sense of humor none of us was expectin’.”
Smithy and Lizza were resting as comfortably as pregnantly possible on a raft while Tiny, Amos, and Homer pulled them through Froggy Bottom Bog in the dead of night. Bladire and Charlie were scouting ahead of the rest of the escape party, making sure the way was safe for travel. Tess and Polly held torches for the group to see by, trying to keep the flames low to avoid being found. Old Pete held up the rear, listening for any signs of trouble.
The group was nearing the castle ruins of the royal sisters after several hours of trekking through the dangerous swamp, and they were eagerly looking forward to making camp for the remainder of the night. They were already starting to feel the effects of the poison joke and were ready to bathe in the cure.
The moon was already hanging low in the sky when the escape party arrived at the ruins. Knowing that the cure would only work if it was soaked in, the men rushed around trying to find something they could use as a bathtub while the women worked on getting a fire started to heat the water.
With the creek being too rabid for soaking and no other options in sight, Old Pete suggested digging a deep enough hole for them to put a tarp in. “The tarp we packed will hold the water in the hole,” he explained as he rubbed uncomfortably at his normally slim sides, which were beginning to swell up with what the poison joke thought to be his proper reaction. “It is not enough for all of us to bathe at once, so we will need to take our turns.”
The rest of the slaves, who were already seeing their signs of infection, quickly agreed to the idea. Amos, Homer, and Tiny grabbed stones and began to dig with Bladire while little Charlie dug with the only shovel that was packed. Old Pete grabbed the tarp and tried to figure out how big the hole needed to be and how they were going to hold it in place during the curative bath.
The dig itself was a challenge to all of the men involved due to the ailments brought on by the poison joke. Bladire was already feeling it effect his eyes, making it harder and harder for him to see. Tiny was beginning to shrink and was quickly taken off of the digging team for fear of him being hurt due to his size decreasing. Homer’s hooves were growing fat, making it harder for him to work. Amos and his son Charlie were the only ones capable to continue digging due to their ailments being tongue shrinking and unnaturally horrible body odor.
Old Pete was having problems of his own planning out the bath remedy with the women as his sides were swelling up like balloons. “I believe the tub is nearly done,” he said to old Tess, whose mane had become tangled with her tail. “Do we have all that we need to cure ourselves? I do not know how much longer I can tolerate this!”
Tess squealed as she fought with her hair. “We will have all that we need soon enough,” she replied as she tugged painfully on her tangles. “Polly will return soon with the jewel weed and honeysuckle we need to finish the remedy. I gathered as much aloe and milkweed as I could before my ailments grew worse, and goldenseal root and fiddlehead fern grow close to camp. Smithy and Lizza are busy building the fire now and have set the water upon it to boil. Soon we can mix everything with the baking soda and oatmeal we brought, and then we will have a fine cure.”
Emerging from the woods, Polly set her ingredients down near the fire and eyed the boiling water. “I do hope it is soon,” he said in a low, crackling tone. “I feel I will soon be unable to speak.”
Lizza giggled at the sound of Polly’s voice as she rested her hoof on her stomach. “At least you do not feel your insides bubbling like a great boiling water pot,” she teased. “It feels like my little bundle of misfortune wishes to jump out of me at any moment. Smithy, how do you fair with your child?”
Smithy turned slowly to her friend, her face as pale as a ghost. “Worse,” she breathed painfully. “Mine’s comin’ out now!”
Polly let out a deep gasp of fear at the site of the broken water. “It is too early!” she bellowed in her lowered voice. “We must get you washed first or you may lose your child! Is the bath ready yet?”
Old Pete turned his head slowly on his swollen neck to see the men still digging. “I will tell them to dig faster,” he answered, walking laboriously toward the work in progress.
Bladire began to panic once news spread of the urgency to dig. “By the stars!” he shouted as he ran blindly in the wrong direction to get to his lover. “Smithy! Where are you?!? I am coming for you!”
Charlie was able to catch up to Bladire after the blinded zebra tripped over a rock. “Follow me, Toby,” he said encouragingly. “It should be easy since you can follow your nose.”
Taking a whiff at the air, Bladire let out a disgusted gag at the unnatural stench that was Charlie’s affliction. While the plan was workable, it was certainly not pleasant.
As soon as he found where he was going, Bladire quickly went to Smithy's side. "What do we do?" he panicked, breathing faster than his lover in labor. "I did not plan for this! What will happen if we are caught?"
Smithy breathed a painful sigh. "Dunno," she replied, finding it hard to think of comforting words in her situation. "Guess we gotta do what comes natural 'til we can get ourselves outta here."
Bladire reached blindly for his lover’s cheek to brush away her tears, accidentally poking her in the eye. “Please, forgive me for the pain that you feel," he begged. “This is my fault. Why did I think to take you through poison joke?"
Smithy kissed her panicked love gently on the lips, doing her best to hush his concerns. "This ain't the time fer that," she said, groaning softly at the pains of labor cascading through her. “I need ya to be strong fer me, and fer the baby. I can't get through this by mahself."
Bladire hugged Smithy close, only to hear her squeal painfully at the sudden jerk of emotion. “You have my word," he promised, letting her slip out of his dwindling eyesight. “Tell me what you need and it shall be done."
Tess pushed between the two lovers to better inspect the pony in labor. “Toby, I will need for you to stand away," she instructed bluntly. “There will be time for you, but not now."
Bladire did as he was instructed, not wanting to cause further trouble. It was hard for him to want to do so since he could hear Smithy grunting in pain and have to sit there doing nothing about it. He blamed himself for all of this, promising himself that Smithy would no longer suffer because of his poor planning. When they were cured of their ailments, he swore to himself that they would be freed of their doubts, their pains, and their slave names.
Granny Smith sighed heavily as she looked down at the photo of the zebras. “That poison joke must have though it was mighty funny to be sendin’ me into labor,” she explained. “By the time that bath was ready I was too far gone fer a soak. They tried pourin’ the cure water over me a few times, but the baby weren’t havin’ any of it. Same thing happened to Lizza, only her baby didn’t end up livin’ since it was too soon fer it to come out. We were all worried 'bout mine by then, and all I could do was just hunker down and push while everypony else was takin’ turns gettin’ cured…”
Bladire refused to leave his lover’s side, even if the afflicted blindness meant he could barely see what was going on. Even at the encouragement of others to take his curing dip, he would not do so until he knew he could bathe safely with Smithy. “She suffers because of me!” he explained. “It is I who thought to take her through the poison joke, and it is I who caused this ailment. I will not relieve myself while there is nothing I can do to help her. Only when she is comfortable again will I be healed.”
Polly and Tess instructed young Charlie to help make several trips to the creek to gather fresh water for a clean delivery. Now that her mane and tail were untangled, the elder Tess was able to do what she needed to help the baby along while Polly worked to keep everything clean.
Smithy was already several hours into her labor as Polly held a cool rag to her head as a way to ease the pain. “I didn’t know it’d hurt like this,” she cried weakly as she squeezed her eyes shut.
Bladire held out a freshly moistened rag that he rung out from a pail, hoping that she would find it soothing. “Be brave,” he said meekly, reaching blindly for her hoof to hold. “You must relax and let the child come to us. We will soon see your baby.”
Smithy noticed that Bladire’s pupils were now milky white due to the poison joke. She knew he would be stubborn until the baby was born, which meant she would have to be his eyes. “We’ll see our baby!” she screamed bravely as she gave it a good hard push, the sounds of her pain resonating through the forest’s late afternoon calm.
The screams of pain had attracted several unpleasant things from the Everfree Forest that the men were prepared to fight off. Tiny, Amos, Homer and Old Pete stood near the parameter of the ruins, ready to fight off any intruding creatures while Smithy finished bringing the baby into the world. They had expected to have to fight off timberwolves, squash parasprites and other pesky insects, scare away a manticore, swat at snakes, and cut at pesky creeper vines. What they didn’t expect to hear was the sound of voices coming their way.
Tiny began to shake like an oversize leaf at the sound of the voices in the distance. “It is them!” he whispered in a panic, cowering down with his hooves over his head and crying like a guilty child. “What do we do? They have found us! They will kill us! What do we do?!?”
Homer grabbed the cowering hulk of a zebra by the shoulders to try lifting him. “We will go to the women,” he said as calmly as possible. “We must try to move them. If we are lucky we can still escape.”
Apple Bloom was on the edge of her seat as she listened to the story. “Well, did ya escape?” she asked, bouncing anxiously.
Granny Smith’s discouraging head shake made the anxious bouncing stop. “It was them all right,” she explained. “Word got out that a big ol’ snow storm was keepin’ the ship from Saddle Arabia from dockin’ on time at Horse Shoe Bay, so the Faction of the Stud decided to turn back home to wait fer word on when it’d be comin’ close. As soon as they got home they noticed we were all gone and they followed our tracks…”
The baby’s head could now be seen. While this would normally be a time to cheer for the end of delivery and the start of a new life, all of the zebras were in too much of a panic for their own lives to welcome the new life that was rapidly coming.
Bladire was busy trying to calm the group down as they tried to convince him to move Smithy. “The baby is nearly born!” he protested as they tried to pick Smithy up. “You will risk both lives to save your own? Are you such cowards?”
Agreeing with the blinded zebra, Tess helped push the panicking zebras off of the mother-to-be. “Toby is right, my friends,” she said as calmly as she could. “If she is moved about, she and the baby may never move again. We must find a way to divert the Faction if we are to be free.”
Amos grabbed desperately onto his son, Charlie. “They will not take my son away from me,” he grumbled stubbornly as he held Charlie close for protection. “They have taken my wife from me, and I will not be separated again. I am taking my son to freedom, even if you do not choose to join us.”
Bladire could not believe his ears as Tiny, Homer, and Polly took sides with Amos. “We will fail if we are separated!” he begged. “Please, help us!”
The betrayers ran for their lives as soon as they heard their master and his gang’s voices coming closer. Lizza hung her tired head in defeat as she sat beside those who had remained, watching the others run and wishing that she was well enough to join them. The birth of her stillborn had taken too much of a toll on her body for her to join in the mad dash for freedom. “You will not be alone,” she said, looking Smithy in the eye with a look of mixed, saddened emotions that were painful to read. “We will not lose another child to the poison joke. Now push it free!”
Before they knew it they were surrounded by the Faction of the Stud, each member having been affected by the poison joke. In spite of the variety of oddities brought on by the poison joke, the most surprising one of all was Stinking Rich, who had reverted to adolescence. He stood sneering over them, noticing that they seemed well enough. “What’s goin’ on here?” he asked in a cracking, prepubescent voice. “Is that the baby? Oh stars, it is!”
Smithy could barely contain her anger as she hollered all the pain she felt in one last hard push. It bothered her that her hateful husband could arrive last minute to experience the joy of childbirth while the zebra she loved sat back blindly and patiently, waiting though the hard part.
Stinking Rich was barely able to contain himself as he watched the child slide into the world, trying his best to peek over Tess’s shoulders as she cleaned it off. “What is it? Is it a boy?” he exclaimed as she took it to a bowl of water to be cleaned off.
As soon as the baby was properly cleaned, Stinking Rich could see that it was not a boy, nor was it his. The yellow and black zebra stripes were enough evidence to show who the father was. He fixed an angry look at his wife and his slave, gritting his teeth as he spit at the ground. “Congratulations,” he said, pouring venomous sarcasm into every word. “It’s a monster! Boys, throw it in the creek, and get these zigglers tied up! We’re goin’ home!”
Before she knew it, Smithy was being held down on the ground against her will. Having exerted herself too much giving birth, she didn't have the strength to fight back. The last thing she remembered was having a rag full of chloroform stuffed in front of her nose and mouth, making her pass out.
Deep down, the Apple grandchildren were hoping for a happier ending to the story of the baby zebra’s birth, even though they knew the reality of the situation meant that their grandmother had to go home defeated. Taking her turn to look at the photo of the zebras, Applejack couldn’t help wondering what her grandmother’s life might have been like if she’d escaped. “What’d ya name her?” she asked sadly as she passed the photo on to her grandmother.
Granny Smith took a deep, calming breath as she took the photo in her hoof. “Kizzy,” she said, a tear rolling down her cheek as she looked at the bright, sepia tone face staring back at her.
Being a moral young mare, Applejack couldn’t believe the kind of stallion her grandmother had married. “He was downright evil! How could he even think to drown a baby?” she exclaimed, her brother adding a disturbed ‘EEYUP!’ to her comment.
Granny Smith held the photo against her heart, remembering the day she took it. “She lived ya know, thanks to Lizza,” she explained, knowing the story was only going to get worse from there.
Smithy woke up in her own bed, sweating in her wrapped up covers. She watched specks of dust floating lazily above her in the sunlight streaming through her bedroom windows as she began to take in her surroundings.
She felt lightheaded and her mouth was dry as a wad of cotton. She rolled over to get out of bed, but stopped suddenly as a wave of nausea overcame her. She could still taste the chloroform in her nose and mouth, which she quickly masked with the taste of dry heaves.
Letting out a weak moan of desperation, Smithy called out for help. She heard somepony opening the door, only didn't recognize the voice saying "Are you alright, ma'am?"
She turned her head to see a bulky, unfamiliar unicorn stallion standing at her bedroom door. "Who are ya?" she mumbled, reaching for her tired eyes to better see him.
The stallion levitated a glass of water over to her side table for her to drink. "My name's Keen Eye," he began, levitating a wet rag over to where Smithy had thrown up. "Your husband hired me from a temp agency to guard you and your house while he's away in Baltimare."
Smithy slowly sat up in bed, listening to Keen Eye speaking. "Where's everyone else?" she asked, eyes closed to keep from getting sick again.
Keen Eye watched his charge once again loose control of her stomach, levitating a potted plant in front of her face just in time to catch her sickness. "Your parents are taking a vacation," he explained as he watched Smithy wipe her mouth on her covers. "Your husband told me about your miscarriage, and I'm really sorry to hear you had that happen. He said it would be wise to give you some space as you recovered, so he hired me to make sure you were okay while he was out of town and keep you away from anything stressful."
While hearing that her parents were gone was disappointing, Smithy was more concerned about her baby, her love, and her zebra friends. Last she remembered, Stinking Rich was stomping mad and threatening violence. "That weren't no miscarriage," she explained, trying to get out of bed again. "Where's the slaves? Where's mah baby?"
Keen Eye used his magic to catch Smithy from falling out of bed, gently landing her on the floor. "What are you talking about?" he asked, watching Smithy wobble as she tried to stand up from where she was laying on the floor. "The zigglers are being kept where they are supposed to be. Your husband wants me to keep you away from them since they kidnapped you. He said they're responsible for you losing your baby, and he's worried they'll try to hurt you again."
With a loud groan, Smithy stood up on her hooves. "What a bunch of mule biscuits!" she exclaimed, feeling her joints ache leftover from childbirth. "We ran away together 'cause we all wanted to get away from Stinkin' Rich, and one of the slaves is mah baby's daddy. Now where's mah baby, and where's her daddy?"
Keen Eye looked at Smithy as though she was insane. "Are you okay?" he asked, confused by her rambling.
Smithy shook her head as she laboriously walked toward the door. "Bring me to the slaves!" she ordered.
Keen Eye used his magic to slam the door before Smith could reach him. "I'm sorry ma'am, but I have my orders," he explained from the other side of the door. "I don't want to lose my job. I can't afford to."
Smithy grabbed the door knob in her teeth, fighting with the magically locked door. "Lemme out!" she shouted, getting no answer from the guard at her door.
After a failed attempt at opening the door, Smithy stumbled to the window to try opening it. She noticed that it was stuck tight with sugar pine sap. She grabbed the glass of water on her side table to use on loosening the window, but there was too much sugar pine sap sealing it shut, rendering the water useless. Desperate to get the window open, Smithy began licking at the sticky sap gluing her window shut, only to find that her dry mouth was just as useless. The only thing she accomplished was getting a new, disgusting taste in her mouth.
Smithy rested her face against the cool glass, letting her eyes leak at the realization of being a prisoner in her own home. She couldn't think of a way to escape, which only made her panic and cry more. What had become of her baby, or of Bladire?
As Smithy stood crying against the window, she noticed Lizza out in the yard putting laundry out to dry on the line. She desperately tapped on the window to get Lizza's attention. She saw Lizza look up at her with a sour look on her face before turning back to her chore.
Tess walked up to Lizza with another basket on her back, a basket they both fawned over. Smithy watched them fuss over the basket, noticing them uncover a baby covered in black and yellow stripes. "Kizzy!" she shouted, beating on the window to get the two zebra's attention. "Mah baby! She's okay!"
Smithy could tell that the two were trying not to look up at her, which served to only annoy her. "Girls!" she screamed from her stuck bedroom window. "Girls! Help me! I wanna see mah baby! I wanna see Bladire!"
Smithy could see Tess looking sympathetically up at the bedroom window, only to be scolded by Lizza. The two zebras carried Kizzy's basket away, ignoring Smithy's desperate pleas.
Not knowing what was going on, Smithy stumbled back to the bedroom door. "Keen Eye!" she shouted. "Ya better lemme outta this here room, ya hear! I want answers!"
Keen Eye let out a frustrated sigh. "Look, I've got orders from your husband," he tried to explain as calmly as he could, finding his patience running out. "I have to listen to him, so you have to listen to me. You have to stay where I know you're safe, and if you can't work with me, then you're stuck in your room."
Smithy screamed out her frustration as she beat on the door. "Ya can't keep me a prisoner in mah own home!" she demanded.
Keen Eye blasted the door with magic, listening to his charge hit the floor from the magic's impact. "I can if you keep fighting me!" he replied, charging up his horn for another blast.
Smithy moaned in misery as she ran for the door again, only to be knocked away again. She knew she had to get to her baby, find Bladire, and get out of Sweet Apple Acres, but how would she do it with that annoying guard keeping her from her goal?
The Faction of the Stud had been gone for over a month in Baltimare. From what was known, the pegasi from Cloudsdale had to fight off a wave of snow storms which covered Baltimare in several feet of snow. Clearing the ice and snow was a high priority for the weather pegasi, particularly around the docks so that ships could come in from sea. Apparently, the extra time had proved to be an advantage over a rival gang known as the Brotherhood of Steeds. Smithy heard all of this news from behind the locked door of her bedroom.
Due to him no longer trusting his slaves with his wife while he was away, Stinking Rich had hired Keen Eye, a temp worker body guard from Canterlot to make sure Smithy was safely kept prisoner in her own home. She was to be kept in her bedroom at all times, only coming out for accompanied short restroom breaks. Her meals were brought to her, her mail brought to her, and nothing more. Even her parents were sent away while he was gone for fear of them upsetting his emotionally fragile wife. As far as Smithy was concerned, she may as well have been stuck in Foalsom Prison.
One day, Keen Eye brought a letter from Stinking Rich for his captive to read. He opened the door slightly for Smithy to take the letter he had received, only to find that she hadn’t bothered keeping the room or herself tidy. He gagged at the horrid smells coming out at him.
Smithy smiled sweetly as Keen Eye lost his composure. “Potent enough fer ya?” she giggled, glad to have gotten to the temp guard who had fought her tooth and nail to keep her a captive in her own home for over a month.
Keen Eye shot her a dirty look as he put a handkerchief over his nose and mouth to block the odor. “Your husband is coming home tonight, Mrs. Rich,” he said with a matter of factual tone while trying not to gag. “I have been informed that you are to be cleaned up for his arrival, and so must this room.”
Smithy couldn’t help laughing in Keen Eye’s face, glad to know that the smell coming from a lack of oral hygiene repulsed him. “I’m gettin’ a visitor here in Foalsom Prison?” she joked. “Well, fiddle dee dee! Y’all better get a move on! When’s the warden comin’ to visit lil’ ol’ me? Think he’ll bring flowers?”
Keen Eye rolled his eyes as he waved for Lizza and Tess to come retrieve his burden. “You two are to clean her up,” he instructed. “And send some slaves up to do something about this unruly smell!”
Smithy couldn’t help feeling elated be back among the slaves again. She felt bad that they would have so much work ahead of them due to her stubbornness, but it would be worth it to get some information out of them.
On the way out, she saw Amos and Homer walking by with cleaning supplies in their mouths. “Howdy y'all!" she said enthusiastically, noticing the two slaves stop in their tracks and bow before her. “Oh, stop with the formal get up. It's just me! How y'all been? Amos, how's yer boy? He been busy playin' with Kizzy? I ain't seen him or Tiny 'round, least not from mah bedroom window."
Smithy's ramblings were cut short by Homer pulling Amos away. “We have work, misses," Homer said flatly, doing what he could to keep Amos calm and away from Smithy.
In spite of the efforts, Smithy could hear Amos choking back a sob. “Did I say somethin' wrong?" she asked as Tess and Lizza lead her out on the porch.
Tess eyed Lizza, who rolled her eyes at Smithy's ignorance. “That is not for you to question, misses," she said, her eyes telling Lizza not to speak. "What you are to think about is being clean. We have prepared a tub for you."
While she still had questions about what had happened in the house, Smithy couldn't help feeling better by being outside. It was chilly for an early spring day, but she found the fresh air bracing compared to the stifling room she had been cooped up in for a month. “We got so much catchin’ up to do girls!” she exclaimed like a school filly as soon as they were out in the yard, expecting to return to the pleasant conversations she shared with Tess and Lizza during her pregnancy. “I ain’t had a proper time to hear from y’all! How’s Kizzy? Has she gotten big? I bet Bladire just loves that lil’ Kizzy!”
Lizza looked uncomfortably to Tess at the mention of her fellow zebras. “Misses,” she said calmly as she pumped water into a washtub. “We must clean you.”
Smithy was shocked at the sudden formality in her voice. “Lizza, it’s me,” she smiled. “Ya don’t have to be all stiff ‘round me, after all we been through together.”
Lizza gave Smithy an even, unemotional look. “Misses, the tub,” she instructed, putting a few drops of rose scented oil in the water.
Smithy watched the oil swirling around Lizza’s reflection in the tub water, noticing the hint of anger in the zebra’s reflected expression. “Is there somethin’ wrong ya wanna talk 'bout?” she said with an encouraging smile. “It’s been so long since I had somepony to talk to, and yer the only ones I got ‘round here and…”
“MISSES!” Lizza cut her off, her tone harsh and unforgiving. “Your bath!”
The tone snapped Smithy into obedience, allowing her to step awkwardly into the tub of water. “Brrrr! It’s kinda cold, don’t ya think?” she said, trying to make light of the chill in the water.
She couldn’t help thinking that her friend’s behavior was perhaps a bit chillier, especially after Lizza dumped a bucket of water on her head. “You must ready yourself for Master Rich,” Lizza explained as she pressed a bar of soap hard into Smithy’s back, rubbing her coat nearly raw.
A baby’s cry was heard while Smithy was in the bathtub. “Is that Kizzy?!?” she shot up from the suds.
Lizza and Tess shot each other an uncomfortable look, wordlessly communicating their concerns. Tess lowered her head as she backed away from the tub. “I will return,” she said without looking either in the eye before running for the slave’s quarters.
Smithy watched closely as Tess ran off, trying to pay attention to where her daughter was being kept. “Somethin’ awful strange is goin’ on ‘round here,” she said, hoping to get some answers now that she and Lizza were alone.
Instead of getting an answer, she got another bucket of water poured over her head. “We must rinse you clean, misses,” Lizza said, bucking the tub over with Smithy still in it. “Under the pump. You must be clean for Master Rich.”
It was unseasonably cold for early spring, and the pump water was freezing. Smithy was trying to protest, but Lizza was busy pushing her head under the icy downpour. Anytime she was able to come up for air she noticed a twisted smile on Lizza’s face. She could have sworn it looked like Lizza was enjoying this, which was beginning to scare her.
Tess put a quick stop to Lizza’s maniacal water pumping. “She is clean,” she commanded as Smithy dashed behind her for protection, gasping for air. “We must dry her and dress her now for Master Rich.”
As soon as she could breathe better, Smithy looked into at the expressions on each of the girl’s faces. She could read that they were at odds with each other over her. “Where’s mah baby?” Smithy commanded, standing up strait in spite of the fact that she was shivering from the cold.
She could see the slaves turning blank expressions upon her, which just annoyed her all the more. “I know she’s someplace warm, ‘cause she’s a baby and she needs to stay warm. Take me there so I can dry off and see mah baby.” Smithy hated the tone she had to take in order to get what she wanted. It was the voice of a slave owner. It stung to watch the girls nod obediently to her as if she was their master instead of their friend before leading her to the slave’s quarters.
The downstairs quarters had a strong, earthy smell, but it was warm. Scanning the room quickly, Smithy noticed the little bundle swathed in rags resting on a straw filled mattress. “Kizzy!” she exclaimed as she scooped up the baby, showering the tiny girl with kisses.
Tess looked uneasily at the situation, while Lizza looked bitterly at the display of affection. Smithy looked at the two of them with a big, goofy grin as she held the smiling baby up. “Look! She’s got mah nose!” she cooed, overjoyed at the resemblance.
Lizza rolled her eyes at the tender moment before determinately approaching the mother and child. “She has her father’s stripes, misses,” she explained bluntly as she held her arm out to take the baby away. “Now let me take her, misses.”
Smithy’s smile faded at the mention of Bladire. “Where is he?” she asked seriously, holding tightly to her daughter.
Lizza’s gaze didn’t even flinch as she moved in closer. “The baby, misses,” she replied flatly as she reached out for the little one.
Smithy held even tighter onto her child, refusing to part with it until she got the answers she was looking for. “Where is Bladire!?!” she hollered, using that awful slave driver tone again.
She was surprised to see anger rising in Lizza’s face as the zebra grabbed Kizzy’s rag blanket in her teeth. “The baby, misses!” she replied meanly, pulling hard on the mouth full of blanket.
Kizzy began to scream as the two women fought over her. Fearing for what the screams might cause, Tess ran outside to get Keen Eye.
Within minutes, the two women were separated by the temp guard. “I thought I told you girls to clean Mrs. Rich, not dirty her up down here!” Keen Eye bellowed to the frightened zebra girls. “Just for that you two are denied meals until further notice. Do I make myself clear?”
Not having any of this macho nonsense, Smithy strode up to the pompous guard. “Maybe y’all can answer mah questions,” she ordered. “Where’s this baby’s father? Nopony’s willin’ to tell me what I wanna know!”
Keen Eye looked down his nose at the yellow and black striped baby crying in Smithy’s arms. “Lady, I have no idea who you’re even talking about,” he explained. “All I know is that your husband put me in charge of you and this household while he was away. That’s all I know, and all I care to know. Now if you’d please cooperate with me for once in your life, lets get you ready for your husband so I can finally end this ridiculous assignment.”
Being predictably stubborn, Smithy backed away from the guard. “Y’all are hidin’ somethin’!” she hollered like a mad woman. “I’m not goin’ anywhere 'til I find out what happened to Bladire!”
Dodging past the guard and the slaves, Smithy made a run for it while holding Kizzy’s bundled blanket in her teeth. Keen Eye was in hot pursuit of his run away captive, even as she ran head first into the Everfree Forest.
Knowing her way around the forest, Smithy was quick to out maneuver her pursuer. The gained distance was a small comfort, but Smithy knew that the baby’s crying would eventually attract Keen Eye to her should she slow down. Her hooves continued to race as quickly as her mind was. Where could Bladire have gone, and why wasn’t anypony telling her anything?
Smithy got her answer far sooner than she expected the moment she tripped and fell over a very large tree root. The root belonged to the tree she had sat under the night she signed her husband’s contract, and from its branches swung a body dressed in a slaves overalls. The cold had preserved its black and white striped coat, and even the milky whiteness in its poison joke blinded eyes. Smithy stood frozen to the spot, her eyes leaking as she watched Bladire’s body rocking gently from the noose around his neck.
It was not hard for Keen Eye to find Smithy in the Everfree Forest after she had stopped underneath the tree, for her crying seemed to mix so easily with the baby’s. Now that she had been successfully detained, Smithy was locked in a spare bedroom since the slaves still hadn’t finished cleaning up her bedroom. It was there that she wailed and sobbed the afternoon away as the rest of the house prepared for the return of Stinking Rich.
As the hour drew nearer, Tess was let into the room with fresh clothes for her mistress. She could see broken glass, upturned furniture, torn fabric, and dismantled window treatments littered around the room as she walked in, all the results of Smithy taking out her aggression.
Tess found the mistress of the house lying in a disheveled heap on the bed, letting out an exhausted hiccup as her only sign of life. “You must be ready, misses,” Tess said gently, concern in her voice as she laid out a few dresses for Smithy to choose from before she went to stoke the dying fire.
It felt good to kick a dress off the bed before rolling over, but Tess was expecting Smithy to behave difficultly. “A fine selection, misses,” she said as she set a few hot pokers in the fire to use in curling her mistress’s hair. “Master Rich will surely agree with your choice in dresses. Come now, we must get you dressed.”
Smithy let out a stubborn grunt as Tess tried to get her out of bed. “I ain’t budgin’,” she protested, pushing the slave away before burying her face in a pillow to hiccup some more.
Tess let out a frustrated sigh as she sat next to Smithy on the bed, stroking her mistress’s loose golden hair. “Please, misses,” she begged. “It is your duty to Master Rich to be dressed when he comes home, just as it is my duty to dress you. I know it is not as you wish, but it must be done if we do not wish to face the consequences.”
Smithy rolled her head over to make eye contact with the slave begging her to get dressed. “One condition,” she said, followed by a loud hiccup. “I wanna know what happened. I wanna know why nopony would tell me what was goin’ on and why everypony’s actin’ how they are.”
Knowing that this was the only way to get cooperation, Tess set a chair upright for her mistress to sit in. “We were instructed to do so,” she explained as she brushed out Smithy’s long yellow hair. “Master Rich is very angry, misses, which is why he hired the guard. Before he and his men left, he had Toby hanged.”
Smithy hated how the slaves all called each other by their slave names. “His name’s Bladire!” Smithy corrected.
Tess shook her head sadly as she continued to brush. “No, misses,” she protested gently. “His name is Toby. It is a good name to be given, misses.”
Turning around in frustration, Smithy grabbed the hoof that was brushing her. “Why do y’all just accept that?” she fumed. “Bladire was the only one of ya who did anythin’ 'bout yer slavery! It’s like y’all are just rollin’ over and takin’ it like a dog instead of fightin’ like a pony!”
Tess turned away from the angry pony she was brushing, trying to hold back the tears she wished to shed. “Toby was a fool, as are you, misses,” she said, looking sadly at Smithy’s reflection in the dressing table’s broken mirror. “It was a fools errand we took trying to be free, and so many of us blame you for everything.”
The tension in Smithy’s face faded as a wave of guilt rolled over her. “I… I’m so sorry,” she said, her shoulders slumping as she looked sorrowfully upon the slave.
Tess turned her head slowly, wiping a trickling tear from her eye. “I do not blame you, misses,” she admitted, a small smile on her face as she went to resume her duties. “I know that your heart is thinking where your mind should be and that you meant no harm upon anyone. But what you saw as love, others are seeing as selfishness. To have loved Toby for yourself, you have caused more misery than you ever indented.”
For the first time that day, the two women looked upon each other honestly. Smithy noticed the fine wrinkles that tracked along Tess’s face, each line telling a broken story of its own. Judging by the fine lines, Tess must have been her mother’s age. "Is that why y'all have been actin' so cold towards me?" she asked, feeling ashamed to see Tess nodding.
Tess set down the brush after finishing with it. "Those who remain regret trusting you," she explained as she rummaged in a broken jewelry box for something pretty to put in her mistress’s hair. "When we returned and faced our punishment, Master Rich decided which of us to keep and which were no longer needed. He sold about half of us, including Amos's son. That is why you saw him upset today."
It hurt to think that her ignorance had caused Amos such pain. “I swear, I didn't know!" she said in a panic, her breathing quickening from the stress. “Is that why Lizza was so rough on me today? Is she mad at me too?"
There was a long silence as Tess tied back the golden mane into an up-do. “Lizza is good to the child,” she said as she went to retrieve a hot poker from the fire. “While she feels she cannot forgive you, she felt that she could not blame the innocent life that was to end in the creek that day. It was she who saved Kizzy from being drowned, convincing Master Rich that he would profit off of the birth of the child by selling it when it came of age. She raises it for you.”
Smithy could feel the heat of the hot poker rolling out the impractical curls on her head. That was the only warmth she could feel as her veins ran with cold guilt. “That baby’s mine though,” she said in a raspy voice. “Everypony’s surely expectin’ to see me carryin’ ‘round a baby by now.”
Letting another perfect curl go from the hot poker, Tess explained how her master had fooled everypony into thinking his wife had a stillborn. “Your mother and father left soon after, feeling you needed time to heal before they returned,” she explained. “Your mother blames herself for this lie of course, but Master Rich knew how it could be a possibility. That is why they have not been around for a time.”
Smithy let out a fresh stream of tears as she thought of the row of memorial sticks back in Dodge City, each one marking where a stillborn baby lay to rest. “Mama,” she cried, realizing now more than ever how much she needed her mother.
Tess began to dry the flowing tears from Smithy’s cheeks before resuming her work. “She must not know, misses,” she explained. “The truth is not safe for us. If you value the life of your mother and child then you must stay silent.”
Smithy shook her head fiercely at the notion, accidentally burning her neck on the hot poker curling her mane. “T’ain’t right!” she protested. “Lyin’s wrong, ya hear!”
Holding Smithy down by the shoulders, Tess stared pleadingly at the broken reflection of the frantic pony. “Please, Smithy… misses… listen to me, please, misses,” she said, trying as best she could to calm herself and her mistress. “It was a lie that saved you, and a lie that keeps your child alive. You must understand, it was Toby who lied about why your child was born. He told Master Rich that he took you against your will, and that we slaves took you to the woods to kill the child and hide his mistakes. This is why you and your child still live and while he hangs.”
Smithy gasped at the lie she had just heard, but she quickly understood why it was said as reality set in. She now knew of how much Bladire had sacrificed for her. He had really gone to his death to protect her and his child, just as he had vowed to her in the cellar. His death was her fault, and the pain and guilt that coated her heart was her penance for her choices she had made.
Her train of thought was cut short as Tess brought her the dress from the floor. “It is time, misses,” she said as she unbuttoned the back of the dress for Smithy to step into. “Master Rich will be home soon. We must not disappoint him, misses.”
Defeated, Smithy stepped into the dress. She stared at her reflection in the broken mirror, no longer recognizing the pony staring back at her. After all she had been through, after all the heart ache, all the lies and corruption, all the abuse she endured, it was the fidelity of her lover going to his death that finally broke her. “Yer right,” she said flatly. “We better not disappoint him.”
Just as the last button was put into place, a knock was heard at the door. Tess stepped away to answer it, bowing low as her master entered the room holding flowers.
Stinking Rich rushed past the slave to his wife, concerned at the sight of the destruction in the room. “What happened?” he said, throwing down the flowers. “Did anypony hurt ya while I was gone? None of them zigglers hurt ya, did they?”
Smithy waved off the concerns dismissively. “I’m fine,” she lied. “Just a lil' temper tantrum. I’m over it.”
Stinking Rich breathed a sigh of relief as he wrapped his arms around his wife, covering her face in kisses. Smithy stood ram rod still as he showered her with affection. This was her duty, just as the slaves had theirs. As she let her husband kiss her, she couldn't help wishing that Tess hadn’t left the room and shut the door behind her.
She watched her husband’s look go from concerned to suggestive. “I wanna boy this time,” he said as he kissed her full on the mouth.
The taste of love is sweet When hearts like ours meet I fell fer ya like a child Oh, but the fire went wild
I fell in to a burning ring of fire I went down, down, down And the flames went higher. And it burns, burns, burns…
Smithy picked her brother’s latest record off of the record player and broke it over the side of the machine. Even after seven years, Prairie Tune still managed to top the charts and tap into her deepest emotions. Feeling the satisfaction of breaking something fade faster than she'd hoped, she stepped on the broken pieced before she went back to staring sadly out the window.
From her window, she could see the edge of the Everfree Forest where she lay Bladire to rest seven years ago. She’d trekked those woods several times at night with fresh flowers to put at his memorial stick, often wondering if he’d suffered long with that rope around his neck. Even after all that time had passed, so many things still reminded her of how much she missed him. Often she would wake up in the middle of the night with nightmares about him hanging in the tree, his bulging dead eyes staring blindly white at her.
She daydreamed about how it must feel to hang as she stared out at the early spring colors, wondering what it would be like to have nothing but a memorial stick to be remembered by. The idea felt peaceful in a morbid sort of way. She smiled to herself as she thought more about it, wondering what it was that was keeping her from doing it.
The answer to her question came running into view down below her, a yellow and black zebra child dragging a wooden two by four in her smiling mouth. Kizzy had grown up so much since the day she was born, and was the smilingest thing Smithy had ever seen. It didn’t matter what kind of cruel treatment she received from anypony. She somehow found a way to keep smiling through it. Where that curious optimism came from Smithy couldn’t tell, but it was the only thing that gave her sorry excuse for a life any meaning.
Between the taboo of master/slave relationships and the events that had taken place seven years ago, Smithy wasn’t able to spend as much time as she wanted with Kizzy. The only time they got together was when Smithy had a task for Kizzy to do, and those times were always accompanied by Lizza. It was important for Kizzy’s linage to be kept a secret, and Lizza knew how bad Smithy was at keeping secrets. While they both knew that revealing the truth was dangerous for everypony involved, Smithy and Lizza had grown to both hate and respect each other because of it. All Smithy could do right now was watch Kizzy and Lizza set up this year’s zap apple stand, their mutual smiles like a stab at her heart.
Smithy could hear the door to the room creaking open, but didn’t bother to turn around to see who it was. She could tell by the gasp at the broken record on the floor that it was her mother. “Prairie Tune’s new record!” Sew n’ Sow exclaimed as she rushed up to the broken pieces. “Smithy! What happened to it? He’s gonna be so upset when he sees this! Did ya do this? Oh mah stars! Where’s the paste?”
Smithy rolled her eyes at her mother’s antics. “We got another record someplace,” she said blandly without looking at Sew n' Sow.
Sew n’ Sow set the record pieces down before approaching her daughter at the windowsill. “Why’d ya do it, baby?” she asked as she gently rubbed Smithy’s shoulder. She could tell by the body language alone that something was bothering her daughter.
While all Smithy wanted to do was spill her feelings out, she knew it best to just keep quiet. She'd been living the past seven years in a web of secrets and lies, so keeping her mouth shut and diverting her feelings had become routine. “Just a song,” Smithy began, turning her head away from her mother. “It was a kinda sad song is all. It reminded me of somepony I miss and I got a lil’ carried away. I’ll clean it up, mama.”
Feeling satisfied with the answer, Sew n’ Sow began to hug her daughter. “I know how ya feel, honey,” she began. “I get that way sometimes ever since yer daddy passed on. I know it’s been a couple years, but sometimes it gets to me more than other times. I think I miss him most durin’ zap apple season. He used to just love it.”
While she did miss her father badly, Smithy was glad to hear her mother rambling on about why she thought she was acting so depressed. In a way, she was glad Pokey Oaks had passed away when he did so that he wouldn’t have to watch his broken daughter’s unhappy marriage. She hugged her mother back, wishing she could tell her the real reason behind why the record was in pieces. “He’s with the stars now, mama,” Smithy said, trying to comfort her mother’s hysterical crying while subtly letting out what she had on her mind.
Trying to calm down, Sew n’ Sow began to dry her eyes with a handkerchief. “Yer right,” she reminisced. “He’s up there with all them babies we tried to have. I guess it’s them babies turn with him now, and that first lil’ one y’all tried to have too. I’m just glad he got to meet one of yer youngin’s before we had to go. Speakin’ of which, ya shouldn’t be goin' 'round breakin’ stuff. It ain’t good fer yer boy to learn behavior like this.”
Smithy could see her son outside, running around the half built zap apple stand with a hammer in his mouth while bullying Kizzy. He was the spitting image of Stinking Rich, just a nasty little version of him. “Don’t worry 'bout him, mama,” she lied as she watched Lizza holding onto a crying Kizzy, her son pointing and laughing at the pain he’d inflicted with the hammer. “He’s busy outside buildin’ up the jam stand, so he won’t even see I broke his uncle’s record.”
Sew n’ Sow opened up the bedroom window to get a better look at her grandson. “Hey there, Filthy Rich!” she hollered from the window, waving frantically at the colt. “Did ya build that up all by yerself?”
Filthy Rich nodded eagerly with the hammer still in his mouth. “I sure did, Gramma!” he lied enthusiastically, swinging around the hammer with pride. “Just look what I can do, Gramma! Are ya watchin’?” With a few unplanned swings of the hammer, the jam stand fell on its side.
Sew n’ Sow smiled broadly at the embarrassed look on her grandson’s face. “Yer such a big boy, Filthy Rich!” she beamed. “Ya just keep on tryin’ now and y’ll get it in no time flat! Gramma loves ya, sugar cube!”
Smithy rolled her eyes as her mother blew huge kisses at her son. “We better get down there before he busts that thing in two,” she said, pulling her overly enthusiastic mother away from the window.
Finally giving up and shutting the window, Sew n’ Sow looked at her daughter with nothing but smiles. “He is gettin’ so big!” she said, her face beaming with grandmotherly pride. “When are y’all gonna have another one? Filthy Rich could use a lil’ brother or sister. He’s gonna be startin’ back to school in two weeks! By then yer gonna miss hearin’ lil’ hooves runnin’ ‘round. Besides, ya ain’t lost the pudge from the first one anyway.”
Smithy hated when her mother did this. The last thing she wanted was more children. She and Stinking Rich barely touched each other anymore since Filthy Rich was born. Given the past they shared together, a healthy physical relationship with her husband was the last thing on her mind.
Smithy knew that her husband and his gang were out getting their thrills with less than reputable mares of the night, buying up whatever thrills he needed from them. While that would have bothered any other wife, Smithy knew that their marriage was more of a forced business arrangement than an actual marriage.
Sew n' Sow continued to ramble on about topics she didn't realize made her daughter very uncomfortable. “Oh, I almost forgot!” she declared amidst her chatter. “Yer favorite cousin, Apple Rose, is comin’ to the reunion! And so’s yer cousin, Apple Sauce, and who am I fergettin’… ah well. It’s family reunion time! Won’t it be nice to take turns sellin’ jam with yer family this season? I sure hope we can finally finish that quilt this year!”
The Apple Grandchildren sat slack jawed with shock when they learned about Filthy Rich. Even with the photos in the scrapbook to prove it, just thinking about it made their heads hurt.
Apple Bloom was especially disturbed, cowering her head under her sister's arm for comfort. “It just can't be true!" she exclaimed, weeping into Applejack's coat.
Granny Smith raised an eyebrow at the ignorant display. "I just said it was," she explained flatly, showing another photo of the son she had never spoken of before.
Applejack held protectively onto her sobbing sister. “Granny Smith, yer talkin' crazy now," she said, not taking her eyes off of her grandmother as she rocked Apple Bloom. “Iffn he's an Apple, than why ain’t he ever come to a reunion? Or helped with the harvest? Or come on by fer supper? He just comes over fer money makin'! That ain’t a family way!"
Big Macintosh added his thoughts with a big 'eeyup,' standing by his sisters and staring down his grandmother suspiciously.
Standing her ground, Granny Smith held the photo of her daughter up next to a photo of Filthy Rich. "He ain’t done all them Apple Family things 'cause he ain’t an Apple," she explained. “Kizzy weren’t an Apple either iffn ya wanna know. He's a Rich just as much as she's a Seed. I didn't have mah first Apple child 'til I married yer granddad."
Big Macintosh gently approached his defensive grandmother, looking over her shoulder at the photos in the scrapbook. “It just don't make sense," he said, staring down at Granny Smith’s collection of memories pressed in the book.
Looking at the photos of her first two children side by side brought back a lot of unhappy memories that Granny Smith had spent a lifetime trying to either correct or forget. “I regret the decisions I made raisin' these two," she went on to say. “Iffn I made different choices, we might have been a right good family together. Still, I never would've ended up with y'all if that was the case, and I don't regret any one of ya."
Applejack knew that there were still questions that needed to be answered. “Care to explain the difference between an Apple and a Rich?" she said flatly, still clinging onto her traumatized looking sister.
Letting out a good natured smile, Granny Smith turned to a page with some family reunion photos. "This should do the trick," she said, showing a big family photo in front of the barn. “Me and Stinkin' Rich never did move outta Sweet Apple Acres, and after daddy died, mama was glad fer the company, 'specially with a grandson to spoil. I keep quiet 'bout her granddaughter slavin' outside, afraid of what would happen to Kizzy if word got out. The only time I got to take a proper picture of Kizzy was at this here reunion."
Granny Smith put the only photo she had of her daughter back in its spot in her scrapbook. "This was the last reunion we had at Sweet Apple Acres fer a long time before yer daddy was born,” she said as she gingerly set the photo back. “As far as I was concerned, Kizzy was a member of the family even if it weren’t recognized.”
Applejack looked over the photo, trying to guess which reunion it was taken from based on the quality of the photo. “Anythin’ excitin’ happen at the reunion?” she asked, hoping for a clue as to when it was taken.
With the photo now safely secured in the book, Granny Smithy thought on how stressful that reunion had been. “Iffn’ I gotta be honest, it weren’t one of mah favorites,” she said. “I know ya thought the one ya put on was a disaster waitin’ fer a place to happen, but this one really took the cake fer me...”
Daddy sang bass Mama sang tenor Me and the siblings would join right in Singing seems to help a troubled soul
One of these days and it won’t be long I’ll rejoin them in a song I’m gonna join the family circle in the sky.
Oh the circle, won’t be broken By and by, now, by and by. Daddy sang bass Mama sang tenor Me and the siblings would join right in In the sky, now, in the sky.
Prairie Tune and June were filling the air with music, their seven children helping the rest of the band make the back up music. It wasn’t studio grade quality, but with the love the husband and wife sang to each other nopony seemed to notice the difference. The yard was filled with wave after wave of dancing family members as more continued to arrive.
Smithy had to admit that it felt good to see family again, especially her favorite cousin, Apple Rose. She was smiling from ear to ear as she hugged her relatives, though the more time she spent with them the more that smile felt pasted on instead of genuine. Knowing that Kizzy couldn’t partake in the reunion in spite of actually being a member of the family was beginning to take its toll, especially when she caught sight of her son and his cousins harassing her.
To distract herself from how she was feeling, Smithy sat down with her mother and cousins to get working on the quilt. She hadn’t done much sewing in her life, so all she could do was sit back and watch before giving it a try for herself.
Her mother was a natural, though judging by her cutie mark it was obvious to see why. “One, two, three, four, pull it tight and go fer more!” Sew n’ Sow instructed as she pulled her stitches tight. Apple Rose and Apple Sauce applauded the demonstration before giving it a try themselves.
The girls were already doing quite well on their own squares before Smithy decided to give it a try. “I can do it!” she declared, smiling as broadly as she could to hide her doubts on whether she really could do it. Taking the needle in her teeth, Smithy began to stitch. ‘One, two, three, four,’ she thought to herself as the needle pierced the fabric. ‘Pull it tight and go fer more!’
With a good hard tug, the thread slid out of the fabric. “Oh… Fingle fangle!” she cursed as she threw down her needle, the girls giggling at the silly mistake of not tying a knot. Smithy’s face was flushed with embarrassment as soon as she realized that somepony had photographed the whole thing. “I’m gonna go check on the jam stand,” she said as she rose to her feet, a chorus of her family’s giggles erupting behind her.
At the jam stand stood Sunflower, surrounded by hungry customers. She was doing her best to be the perfect sales pony while her littlest baby tugged at her tail. Smithy could tell that her sister-in-law was getting overwhelmed as she watched her duck below the stand to grab a jam jar. “Need a helpin' hoof?” she offered.
Sunflower perked up at her sister-in-law’s offer. “Do I ever!” she declared as a transaction was being made. “This line just goes on forever! How do you keep up?”
Smithy couldn’t help noticing at how relieved Sunflower looked as she stepped up to help. “Take a rest on that there stump, why don’t ya,” Smithy offered. “Ya gotta pace yerself better iffn ya wanna last here at the stand.”
Sunflower watched transaction after transaction go by, glad to have a chance to sit down with her newborn. The peace was short lived as her son, Dandelion, ran up at full speed with Filthy Rich. “Mama!” Dandelion shouted as he jumped up on his mother’s lap. “They’ve got the fritters started! You should see it! They’re so good!”
Filthy Rich laughed at his cousin bouncing on his mother’s knee. “I’m surprised ya can taste anythin’ since ya burned yer tongue,” he teased.
Dandelion stuck his burned tongue out at his cousin, which just made Filthy Rich laugh all the more. "At least I got one!" he replied angrily to his chuckling cousin.
Rolling his eyes at his cousin, Filthy Rich decided to turn his attention to his aunt. “Say, Auntie Sunflower,” he said innocently. “Where’s Uncle Happy? He’s supposed to help me put together the big bon fire fer tonight.”
Trying to stifle the bouncing boys, Sunflower handed them an open jar of jam. “He’s out with your father doing some odd jobs, Filthy Rich,” she said as she spread the jam on two slices of bread for the boys to snack on. “They should be back by tonight, so don’t worry. Now take your snacks and have a good time.”
Still holding onto the jar of jam, Filthy Rich looked around for something to do with it. “Let’s go spread this on that ziggler with the yella stripes!” he suggested, getting an enthusiastic ‘Yeah!’ from Dandelion.
Smithy dropped a jar in mid-transaction at the mention of the idea, ignoring it shattering at her customer's feet. “Boys! Don’t!” she hollered vainly as they ran off to cause mischief.
Sunflower giggled at the attempt at discipline while the customer eyeballed the broken jar. “Let them have their fun,” she said with a casual smile that Smithy did not return. “You’re so lucky you can afford zigglers anyway. I wish we could afford one to help take care of the kids. That half breed one must have come at a good price.”
Smithy had to hold her breath to keep from what she wanted to say, especially at the half breed comment. She couldn’t let her sister-in-law know the emotional price she had to pay to have Kizzy.
Laying the baby down to sleep in the shade, Sunflower stretched before sitting down next to it. “You are so lucky to have a husband like Stinking Rich,” she smiled naively. “I don’t know Happy Trails and I would feed our kids without him. He’s been giving Happy Trails so much delivery work that I barely see him. Of course, when I do see him, whoa boy do I see him! That’s why we have eight kids!”
Smithy turned to see the baby yawning, lowering her eyes as she thought of Kizzy at that age. “She’s a cutie,” she said, ducking under the jam stand for fear of any emotion showing. The moment was broken by an impatient customer banging on the top of the stand and demanding service.
Sunflower nuzzled her dozing baby, listening to the gentle gurgling of the newborn. “There’s nothing like the smell of a newborn, is there?” she swooned. “It’s hard to believe we’re on eight now with little Petunia here. Speaking of which, when are you two having another?”
Smithy set a jam jar down much harder than needed at the mention of children. ‘Why that question again?’ Smithy thought to herself, trying to push the thought out of her head and move onto something more pleasant to talk about. “So, how’s business at mah brother’s company been lately?” she said with a forced smile that intimidated the next customer in line.
Sunflower let out a sarcastic chuckle at the mention of her husband’s work. “Slow and steadily dying,” she joked. “We had to add delivery services on top of moving services just to stay afloat. I keep telling Happy Trails to sell it to your husband since they do so much business together, but you know Happy Trails. He’s too proud of that place to let it go, even if it’s doing nothing but stressing him out. I think the smartest thing he ever did was make Stinking Rich a business partner, or else we’d never have anything to feed our children with. I wish they’d work together full time, but your husband says he’s got other work to do. What is it your husband does again?”
Smithy sighed as she thought about what lie she would have to tell Sunflower. “He’s a private consultant,” Smithy fibbed as she dropped a stack of bits into a half full jar. She knew the truth was that her husband was a thief and a con man, and that Happy Trails had joined in with the Faction of the Stud just to keep his business afloat, but she had to keep up the small talk.
Granny Smith turned to a page with her brother’s company logos, both old and new. “He switched it over after he joined the Faction of the Stud,” she explained. “It was a perfect cover fer money launderin'. Happy Trails could smuggle all kinds of stuff ‘round Equestria with that business of his, and nopony suspected a thing since mah brother was such a nice fella. I don’t know if he knew half the stuff he was shippin’ out, but he did it to feed his family. If he didn’t do what Stinkin’ Rich told him to, he’d end up losin’ his business. At that point Stinkin’ Rich practically owned him fer himself, makin’ mah brother a slave to his debt. Still, he kept up that happy go lucky act with everypony, most of all his kids. None of 'em knew what their daddy did, and he was right determined to keep it that way...”
As promised, Happy Trails had returned by sunset with Stinking Rich. Though he was exhausted from doing gang work all day, Happy Trails still summoned the energy to build up a bon fire with his kids and his nephew. He nuzzled down next to his wife as they watched the children roasting marshmallows, falling asleep shortly after he’d gotten comfortable.
Filthy Rich stood next to his father as they made and ate s’mores together, laughing as they made a mess together as father and son. Smithy barely paid attention to them, instead watching Lizza wash zap apple jam out of Kizzy’s mane under the water pump. She was hoping that none of the zebras would find it offensive when they found a smuggled basket of bread and jam waiting for them in the slave quarters.
The reunion was beginning to wind down, and Smithy was grateful for it. She was exhausted after a long day of running around, and knew that she would have to wake up early the next morning to sell more jam at the stand. The fire had burned down to embers as the last few family members headed out for the evening.
Smithy yawned as she wrapped an arm around her groggy son, who fidgeted at being held and protested that he wasn’t tired. “Settle down now, Filthy Rich,” she said exhaustedly, trying to ease the fussy pony. “I know ya had yer fun today, and ya had enough sugar to power a steam engine, but we got more jam to sell in the mornin’. It’s time fer bed.”
Filthy Rich shook his tired little head as he tried to suppress a yawn. “I ain’t tired, mama!” he bickered. “I still wanna roast marshmallas with daddy!”
Stinking Rich lifted his son high onto his shoulders, getting an eruption of laughter from the colt. “Come on, lil’ buddy,” he said tenderly as his son rested his head on his own. “Yer mama’s right. Ya got a big day ahead of ya tomorrow, only ya ain’t sellin’ jam. We’re takin’ all the rest of it with us to Baltimare tomorrow. Got us a fine transaction in the works up there, and we can make a family vacation out of it!”
Smithy hated when her husband sprang things like this on her, especially when he could make her look like the bad guy in front of their son. Worse yet, she knew this had something to do with the Faction of the Stud, and the last thing she wanted was for her son to get involved in some kind of illegal doings. “Hold it right there,” she retorted in hopes of discouraging the trip. “Ain’t this gonna interfere with his first day of school in a couple weeks? Last thing we wanna do is get him all hopped up on stayin’ up late to concentrate in school. It’s important we keep him consistent.”
She was expecting to hear her son protest her orders. “But mama!” Filthy Rich whined. “I wanna go to Baltimare! Why won’t ya let me do anythin’ fun?”
Stinking Rich cooed as he held his son, trying to encourage the little boy to smile. “Don’t listen to yer mama,” he said with a fatherly smile. “We’ll only be gone 'bout a week anyways, so y’ll have plenty of time to get yerself ready fer school. We’ll just let yer mama miss out on all the fun we’re gonna have, just the two of us. Why, I’ll even let ya pick out a new ziggler fer yerself after we sell off that one with the yella stripes.”
Smithy couldn’t believe her ears. “Yer gonna what?!?” she hollered, causing lingering family members to turn around to look at them.
Stinking Rich held up his hoof to try to stifle his wife. “Ya knew this day was comin’,” he said in a condescending tone. “That lil’ monster’s nothin’ but a slave, and I got a good chance to sell her off with some zap apple jam so we can make a mighty fine profit. Besides, it’ll be a good chance fer our boy to learn somethin’ ‘bout runnin’ a business. That’s somethin’ he ain’t learnin’ in school, what with all them ABC’s and 123’s.”
Watching the father and son laugh and joke about selling another living being like a vegetable at market made Smithy furious. Having to hold her tongue during the whole thing was a nightmare. “Sure, why not take the whole family then,” she muttered more to the glowing embers than to her own family. "Guess a lil' pre-schoolin' educatin' ain't that bad an idea now. Celestia knows he could mind to learn a thing or two from his folks."
She felt horrible as her husband and son hugged her, knowing that the only reason she was agreeing to the trip was so she could try finding a way to sabotage her husband's plans. Now, she just had to figure out how.
Stinking Rich had pulled all the stops on this trip, booking the whole family in a posh private train car for their trip to Baltimare. He smiled like a hero as Filthy Rich bounced up and down on the plush train seats while snacking on licorice candy. “Daddy! Watch this!” the colt exclaimed as he stuck a licorice rope up his nose. “We’re gonna have fun in Baltimare, ain’t we?”
Stinking Rich sat next to his son on the train seat, joking around as he too stuck a piece of licorice up his own nose. “We sure are!” he said as they laughed together, enjoying their father and son moment.
Smithy stood back silently as her mother took a photo of her husband and son with candy hanging out of their noses. It was a genuinely tender moment, one that she rarely experienced with her son. Filthy Rich was his daddy’s boy, and Stinking Rich relished in all the attention he doted upon his only child. She wished that she could dote that much attention upon Kizzy, who she knew was chained up in a wooden crate in the luggage car like a piece of property.
Filthy Rich’s sugar rush and eager bouncing soon wore everypony out. Smithy watched her husband recline on a train car, enjoying a nap with his hat over his eyes with Filthy Rich resting contently on top of his belly. She daydreamed about what it would be like to have that kind of relationship with her daughter, and even what it would be like to hold her daughter like that. She rarely held her son like that anymore. Filthy Rich was always running to his daddy first, coming to her more as a last resort. She guessed that this was a learned behavior since Stinking Rich was beginning to treat her similarly.
Snoring beside them was Sew n’ Sow, who looked so peaceful as she slept. It really was a relaxing environment, but Smithy was having a hard time unwinding. While she knew the nap would be beneficial, she could not quiet her concerns about losing Kizzy. She knew a plan had to be concocted somehow, and in a very short amount of time.
Eyeing the half empty bag of licorice, Smithy began to wonder if Kizzy might enjoy her son’s leftover sweets. The poor child rarely received treats, unlike Filthy Rich who ate sugary sweets on a regular basis. Gently prying the treat from her son’s sleepy hold, Smithy proceeded in taking the leftover licorice to the luggage car.
The luggage car was cramped and poorly lit, and smelled vaguely of dust. She found Kizzy’s crate wedged up against a stack of suitcases and a pet carrier. “Ya alright in there, Kizzy?” she asked gently, feeling awkward talking to a crate in a cramped luggage car.
She heard rustling in the crate before seeing an eye peeking through a knothole. “Misses?” came Kizzy’s enthusiastic voice.
Smithy had to admit how odd it was hearing a cheerful voice coming out of the wooden crate, but she was glad to know that her daughter’s spirits were still up. “I brought ya somethin’,” she said, smiling as she slipped rope after rope of licorice through the knothole in the crate.
She could hear Kizzy’s excitement as she dined on the sweets. “Thank you, misses!” the little zebra exclaimed with her mouth full of candy. “This is so nice of you, misses. And the dog next to me likes it too. He is a nice dog, misses. He is my new friend, are you not dog?”
Smithy could see a collie in a pet carrier chewing on the candy that her daughter had fished through the crate slats. She smiled as she thought about how generous Kizzy was. Even in times when it would be appropriate to be selfish, Kizzy still found it in her heart to share.
Smithy wished she could be chained up in the crate with her daughter as she listened to the excited laughter the child made at sharing candy with a dog. It reminded her of how much simplicity could make somepony happy, a simplicity which she hadn’t enjoyed in ages. “I’m gonna try to get ya outta this here mess,” she said, looking through the knothole to see her daughter's legs chained up.
Kizzy smiled up at the eye in the knothole as she swallowed the last of the licorice. “Misses?” she asked, her voice full of innocence. “When are we going home?”
Smithy had to step away from the crate upon being asked that question. She did not want her daughter to see her start crying. “I don’t know,” she said, her voice shaky.
Kizzy’s chains rattled as she stepped up to the knothole. Peeking though it, she could see her mistress trying to compose herself. “Are you crying, misses?” she asked, concern in that sweet little voice of hers.
Smithy acted fast as she dabbed her eyes with a handkerchief. “Just the dust gettin’ to me,” she lied, hoping to sound convincing. “Mean time, ya just take it easy. I’m gonna try everythin’ I can to get ya home real soon. Ya hear me?”
Smithy rested her hoof on the crate as if she was reaching out for her child. She was surprised to feel Kizzy resting her hoof within the same general vicinity. “I miss Miss Lizza, misses,” Kizzy said in a sad tone.
Promising to stop by later, Smithy turned to leave the luggage cart before running the risk of bursting into tears. She hated that she could not give Kizzy an honest answer, especially since she herself hadn’t come up with an answer to her conundrum.
She breathed an emotional sigh as a train attendant helped her to the snack car. After the emotional situation that she had put herself though, she could use a calming cup of tea. She ordered a pot of sassafras tea to be brought to her train car.
Everypony was still asleep in the private train car when Smithy got back. Filthy Rich had slid to his father’s side in his sleep, leaving Stinking Rich exposed. Watching them curled up together all warm and comfortable without a care in the world made Smithy’s heart ache with jealousy. Knowing that Kizzy was sitting exposed and cold in that crate in the luggage car with chains around her hooves while these two snoozed the afternoon away just felt wrong.
She imagined herself in Stinking Rich’s place, her son and daughter curled up together with their heads resting on her belly. Why, if Stinking Rich wasn’t in the picture, she could see this kind of scenario play out. In fact, things would be so much different in her life if Stinking Rich wasn’t there, better in fact.
So this begged the question: Why was she letting fear rule her life, and why did she just settle for this blackmail of a lifestyle? Why did she allow herself to give up on her life when her husband killed Bladire? Why was Stinking Rich still allowed to suck air like a good man should while an actual good man lay breathless in the ground? Most importantly, what could she do about it?
Smithy mulled over these questions as she sat across from her sleeping husband. ‘It could be easy to just snuff out his life right now,’ she thought as she picked up a pillow. ‘So easy to do to him what he did to Bladire. Everypony would think he just went in his sleep.’
She’d thought this way before, but every time the temptation of murder had crept up its ugly head she would quell it down with guilt. Now it seemed she had a new motive: desperation of losing her daughter.
Smithy’s smile dripped with vengeance as she got up with the pillow in her hooves, a thrill cascading over her as she thought about what it would be like to not be married anymore. She quietly approached Stinking Rich, fully intent upon doing him in when she noticed her son sleeping. ‘He’d flinch and wake the boy,’ she thought as Filthy Rich flicked his ear in his sleep, making her realize the holes in her plan. She slowly lowered the pillow from above her head as she looked at the rest of her sleeping family, a wave of that all too familiar guilt washing over her. She would have to let him live, even if now she didn't want to.
Stinking Rich awoke at the sound of somepony knocking on the train car’s door. “What’s goin’ on?” he asked when he saw his wife standing in front of him with a pillow.
Smithy put on a smile as she fluffed the pillow she was holding. “Just gettin’ somethin’ fer ya,” she lied as she set the pillow behind her husband’s head.
The conversation was cut off when they heard the knock at the door again, followed by the concession pony saying, “Tea ma’am.” Smithy rushed up to the door to pay the concession pony and let him in with her pot of sassafras tea.
Sew n’ Sow yawned heavily as she awoke. “Now ain’t this a nice surprise,” she said as the snack cart rolled up with the tea pot and serving cups. “Stinkin’ Rich, is this yer doin’? I sure could go fer a cup.”
Smithy backed down as her husband took all the credit, watching her mother and son make gluttons of themselves with her tea. It was the least she could do after plotting murder.
Applejack couldn’t believe the depths of desperation her grandmother had come to. “Ya were really thinkin’ of murder?” she asked in a frightened whisper as she looked at the innocent faces in the photo of Stinking Rich and Filthy Rich with licorice hanging from their noses.
Granny Smithy nodded as she looked at the ticket stubs taped next to the photo. “I didn’t have the stomach fer it,” she explained. “I sure thought on it a lot. Tried it a couple more times too, but I just kept chickenin’ out.”
Applejack breathed a contented sigh after she learned that her grandmother couldn’t go through with murder. "What a relief!" she exclaimed, her brother adding an "eeyup" to her statement.
Granny Smith shook her head as her granddaughter handed the scrapbook back. “Don’t go assumin’ nothin’ yet,” she explained. “I knew he had to go if I was gonna save Kizzy. I was scared outta mah mind on what I had to do, but I was runnin' outta options. I knew I couldn’t do it alone though. I had to get some help from a few folks in Baltimare if I wanted to get the job done right. Funny soundin’ folks they was. Talked a lot like yer cousin, Babs…”
Baltimare was a city divided, its crime syndicate’s loyalty constantly switching between the Faction of the Stud and the Brotherhood of Steeds. The Brotherhood had ruled this town for years before the Faction challenged them, and were now threatened by the ever growing power that this rival gang of country bumpkins had gained in their territory.
In the three days she had spent in Baltimare, Smithy had discovered who it was that would be buying Kizzy. It was a rich hotel owner who was an ally to the Faction of the Stud, and he was planning to use Kizzy as a glorified dish washer. Having done that work in her youth, Smithy knew of all the soapy aches and pains that awaited her daughter. While she had been given breaks as a child, she had a feeling that Kizzy would not be given that luxury.
Having chickened out over killing her husband for the third time this week, Smithy was convinced that she was too cowardly to go through with her plans on her own. She realized that the only way she was going to be able to get it over with was with help, so she figured that the only ponies to help her were her husband’s rival gang. It was a risky decision, but at this point, she was desperate. Having gone through Stinking Rich’s maps of the city, she was quick to discover potential hot spots where she might be able to find the rivaling Brotherhood of Steeds.
With only three days to spare before Kizzy’s transaction took place, Smithy knew she would have to comb the city quickly for a lead to the mobsters she needed to hire. Using a shopping trip as her excuse to get out of the hotel to find a killer for hire, Smithy was prepared to spend the day going on a wild goose chase.
Having struck out at over a dozen potential locations before lunch time, Smithy was beginning to get discouraged and hungry. She noticed a nearby diner called The Pecan Café, and as luck would have it this restaurant was on her list of potential hot spots.
The Pecan Café had an eclectic cuteness to it, as if more than one woman had argued about decorating the place. The most glaring thing standing out amidst the assorted furnishings were the pictures and paintings of pecan ice cream on the walls. Even the menu was proud to show how well all the food they served complimented the advertised ‘Best Pecan Ice Cream in All of Equestria.’ While all that did sound tempting, Smithy knew that her top priority was hiring a helpful thug. She could enjoy the ice cream after the job was done.
While browsing through the menu, Smithy heard her waiter come up to the table. “Afternoon,” he said in a thick Baltimare accent. “I’m Bruisey, and I’ma be takin’ care a you today. I can I start you off with a drink or somethin’?”
The accent was a bit intimidating for a simple farm girl, especially when the pony who spoke it looked like he didn’t really want to be there, but Smithy knew she had to keep her cool. “Can I see yer manager, young fella?” she asked sweetly.
Bruisey raised an eyebrow to the comment his new customer had made. “Wadda you want him for?” he asked nonchalantly as he took out his order book.
Smithy smiled coyly as she set her menu down. “Nothin’ personal,” she said politely. “Just grab him fer me. After that’s all said and done, I’ll order some of this here pecan ice cream y’all are makin’ such a fuss ‘bout.”
Smithy sat back and waited for the waiter to do as he was told, filling her time with reading the restaurant’s history on the back of the menu. While it had little tidbits of local history that she found interesting, it read nothing about what she was really looking for.
Peeking over the top of the menu, Smithy saw that a burly stallion wearing an apron had approached her table. “Wadda you need here, miss?” he said, his accent just as thick as the waiter’s.
Turning back to the history on the back of the menu, Smithy began some small talk. “I couldn’t help noticin’ y’all don’t mention who runs this here place on the back of yer menu,” she said in a polite tone while batting her eye lashes.
The manager scratched his head at the menu comment, wondering what this customer had to complain about. “Uh… I run it,” he said, hoping that the answer had sufficed. “Is dat whatcha wanted ta know? I take it you ain’t from around here?”
Smithy giggled at the manager’s confusion. Either he knew what she was talking about, or he had no clue at all. “Oh I see by yer apron and yer paper hat that yer the boss,” she said cordially. “What I wanna know is who actually does the runnin’ of the place. Ya know, like are y’all with the Brotherhood of Steeds or the Faction of the Stud. Ya see, I’m lookin’ fer the Brotherhood, and I could sure use yer help.”
The restaurant came to a complete halt at the mention of the two gangs. Smithy could feel all eyes on her, more prevalently the intimidated gaze of the manager.
The manager pointed leaned his angry face in towards his customer. “Listen, lady,” he threatened. “I don’t know if you’re just a dumb tourist or what, but I don’t have ta deal with dis bull spit from nopony. Dis is a place a business, got it? So either order somethin’ or get outta here!”
While Smithy could hear the other patrons applaud the manager’s toughness, she decided not to act intimidated to prove to everypony that she was not a force to be reckoned with. “Place of business?” she asked, batting her eyes innocently. “Who’s business? Studs or Steeds?”
The manager’s face was red with frustration. “Dat’s it, lady!” he said as he lifted her out of her chair and lead her to the door. “I’m done with you! You’re out on your butt!”
Smithy felt her rear end collide painfully with the cobblestones. As she turned to say something, she saw the manager throw her saddlebag in her face. “And stay out!” he hollered before slamming the café door. From behind glass windows, she could see several café patrons making obscene faces and gestures while laughing at her.
While Smithy was disappointed that she didn’t have lunch, she was even more disappointed by the lack of information she was getting from everypony in town. She walked away with her head down in defeat, still able to hear rude caterwauling from inside the café.
As she walked past the entrance to an alley, she heard a voice calling out to her. “Pssssst! Lady!” the voice said from behind a dumpster.
Smithy turned to see Bruisey the waiter was waving her on. “Lady! Hey, you forgot your bill,” he coaxed.
Thinking this was an insult, Smith made a rude face before turning to walk away.
Bruisey grabbed her before she could leave, thrusting the piece of paper in her face. “You’re gonna want dis bill, lady,” he insisted.
Grabbing the piece of paper from the rude waiter, Smithy proceeded to read what it had to say. She was surprised to see that it was just the information she was looking for.
Bruisey smiled smugly as he watched Smithy’s facial expressions change while reading. “Told you you’d want it,” he gloated. “Da kingpin operates out on da docks. He’ll be in tonight, so you’d better get there early.”
Feeling elated to have finally gotten some information out of somepony, Smithy felt compelled to thank the waiter. Bruisey brushed the compliment off with an easy smile. “Fogetta ‘bout it!” he replied. “But if you’re interested in doin’ me a solid, a few bits’ll sure make my day. Tip jar’s runnin’ low, if you know what I mean.”
Bruisey held his hoof out, a teasing smile on his face. Smithy rolled her eyes as she put five bits in his hoof. She should have known that help wouldn’t come free in Baltimare.
Chapter 32: So, What Brings You to the Docks After Dark?
Chapter 32: So, What Brings You to the Docks After Dark?
Walking on the vacant docks alone on a foggy night is a frightening thing for a young woman to do, but Smithy was used to being afraid. She’d spent most of the last decade in a perpetual state of anxiety, but she was aggravated by how intimidated she felt by her surroundings. Her body pulsed with adrenaline beneath her black dress and heavy black veil as the fog thickened, making every one of her senses tingle with the anticipation needed to run for her life.
Smithy nearly jumped out of her horseshoes when she heard a ‘psssst!’ coming from behind her. She turned to slap whoever it was that had frightened her, only to have her hoof grabbed by Bruisey.
Bruisey was less than impressed with the sudden swing, but let it go quickly because of the business he had to attend to. “You made it. Now cool your jets,” he said as he set her hoof back on the ground. “Da boss is waitin’ for you. I told him a little about you already. He’s lookin’ forward ta dis. Salty Ron even made some pecan ice cream for you.”
At a time like this, Smithy couldn’t even think of food. “So yer kingpin’s name is Salty Ron?” she said as they made their way through the dense fog, crinkling her nose at what sounded like the worst mobster name ever.
Bruisey began to laugh at the simple guess. “Na! You got it all wrong,” he said as they turned an even darker corner. “Salty Ron’s his ziggler, and he makes all dat ice cream for da café. Da boss is called Crab Apple.”
Bruisey opened a door to a poorly lit warehouse, allowing his guest to go inside. “Whatcha waitin' for, a written invite?" he asked sarcastically, noticing Smithy's hesitance.
Taking a deep breath, Smithy took a few shaky steps inside. “Y’all got a match?” she asked, freaking out a bit as she walked into a spider web. She could hear somepony laughing heartily as he granted her request.
From the match light she saw a grizzled looking zebra lighting an oil lamp. His face was lined with a few scars, and he wore an eye patch over his left eye. “You must be here for the boss,” he said in an eerily calm voice. “I am Salty Ron. Please follow me, and do be wary of the spiders. They do not take kindly to invaders.”
Smithy swallowed back her fears that the comment brought to her mind as she followed the lamp light closely, hoping not to run into anything she couldn’t handle.
Salty Ron lead the way through the dark warehouse as if by memory. Smithy could barely keep track of where she was going, let alone where Bruisey had gotten off to. She was too distracted by the amount of spiders she saw crawling around to keep her thoughts strait. Salty Ron chuckled each time he heard her yelp at the sight of them.
At this point, Smithy knew she was at the mercy of the zebra with the oil lamp, and the last thing she thought would be wise was to aggravate him with how rude she felt he was behaving. Smithy followed behind him cautiously as he lead her up a set of wrought iron stairs and onto a catwalk. Just knowing that she was up in the air, in the dark, and surrounded by spiders the size of her face made her feel completely helpless. She had to keep thinking about Kizzy or else she wouldn’t have been able to put one hoof in front of the other.
After what felt like an hour in the dark, the two had finally reached their destination. Smithy could hear voices coming from behind the door that Salty Ron knocked on. “Password,” a gruff voice said through a crack in the door.
Salty Ron set the lap down as he looked over the pony in the door crack. “Mushy Surprise,” he said, the door opening to the sound of the correct password.
The guard and the zebra exchanged a series of hoof bumps before entrance was fully permitted. “Who’s da dame?” the guard asked, eyeballing Smithy from top to bottom.
Salty Ron held the lamp out for the guard so that he could properly frisk his guest. “Somepony looking to make a deal, from what I hear,” he explained as the guard searched Smithy, all the while listening to his guest protesting the search. “Miss, you must be cooperative or you will not see Mr. Crab Apple. You must understand that these are precautions.”
Smithy scrunched up her face obstinately as the guard gave his okay that she was not armed. “Ya sure got a way of showin’ it!” she complained as she pulled her black veil back over her face. She had taken special precaution not to be recognizable to the gang boss, so having her outfit messed with bothered her.
She was lead into an office where she saw an orange pony with a red mane and tail sitting behind a desk with a cigar hanging out of his mouth. He wore a white button down shirt under a grey pin striped vest, wearing a matching fedora hat on his head. He looked up from a large ledger book he had been pouring over as soon as he realized he had company. “Ah, dis must be da gal Bruisey went on about,” he said with a big smile. “Sit down, lady. You wanna bowl a pecan ice cream? Salty Ron here makes da best you ever tasted!”
Smithy waved a dismissive hoof to the offer. “No thanks,” she said as the zebra held out a bowl for her. In spite of her protest, he set the bowl down in front of her anyway.
She watched the kingpin accept a bowl of ice cream from Salty Ron and take an eager spoonful of the treat. He kicked his feet up on the desk to enjoy his ice cream, revealing a cutie mark showing a cluster of three crab apples. “Great batch here,” he complimented as he smacked his lips.
Salty Ron smiled genuinely as he and the kingpin exchanged an enthusiastic hoof bump. “I thank you, Crab Apple,” Salty Ron replied happily, much to Smithy’s surprise. She had never heard a slave call his master by his first name before without first saying ‘mister’ or ‘master’ or 'sir', or seen one behave so casually toward his master. “Will there be anything else you might need, or shall I go?”
Crab Apple turned to the black dressed mare sitting on the other side of the desk. “I dunno,” he replied sarcastically. “Unless she jumps outta dat widow get up and throttles me, I should be okay. Wadda you think?”
The two shared a laugh at Smithy’s expense, another first she noticed between master and slave. Salty Ron gave Smithy an untrusting look as he walked past her. “I will be close by if I am to be needed,” he said as he and the guard exited the room.
There was an awkward silence as Crab Apple finished his ice cream. “So, what brings you all da way out here after dark?” he asked as he wiped smudged ice cream from his freckled cheeks with the back of his hoof.
Smithy picked up her bowl of ice cream, looking at the chunks of pecan sticking out of the large scoops. “I… need somepony killed,” she said, looking at the bowl in her hooves instead of the pony she wished to hire. In spite of the fact that she had thought about what to say all day, it was still hard to put into words in front of a total stranger.
Crab Apple leaned forward to hear more, resting his elbows on the desk as he cradled his chin in his hooves. “From da way you’re dressed, I’da thought somepony whacked him already,” he replied, glad to see his guest raise her head to make eye contact. “Is da get up preemptive or somethin’?”
Going back to staring at her melting ice cream, Smithy took a deep breath as she thought about what she would say next. “He’s a gangster,” she explained as calmly as she could. “He’s with the Faction of the Stud. It’s kinda important that he goes in the next couple days.”
The mystery intrigued Crab Apple, especially since he could barely see who he was talking to due to the heavy black lace veil covering this mystery pony’s face. “You’re not from around here, are you?” he asked, hoping to get some more information as he put his cigar back in his mouth. All he got was a head shake from the black dressed mare. “Fair enough. So, what can you tell me about dis guy? Where’s he from, and why do you want him gone?”
Smithy slid a picture across the desk that she had carried with her in her saddlebag. “He’s the Ponyville kingpin,” she explained as flatly as she could. “I need him taken down in two days time before an important transaction is made.”
Crab Apple took the picture in his hooves to examine it. “Cute kid he’s got there,” he said upon examination. “What gave him da idea ta put licorice in his nose?”
Immediately regretting printing the most recent photo of her husband, Smithy reached out to retrieve it. “Leave mah boy out of it,” she said as she tried to get the photo back.
Crab Apple smiled broadly as held the photo out of Smithy’s reach. “Your boy?” he exclaimed, a big grin on his face as he noticed Smithy flinch. “So dis here’s your husband? What, did he forget an anniversary or somethin’?”
Smithy snatched the photo out of her laughing colleague’s hooves. “Just stop him before he sells a slave,” she said, feeling stupid for letting too much information slip out. “I’ll compensate ya fer yer time. How many bits will it take?”
Smithy took a sack of bits out of her saddlebag to pay for Crab Apple’s services, but was shocked to see him push it away. “Keep your money, Mrs. Rich,” he said in a sudden serious tone. “Use it ta hire somepony else ta negotiate for you next time you want somepony else whacked.”
Smithy stood ram rod still, too shocked to retrieve the sack of coins on the desk. “How’d ya know mah name?” she asked in a weak voice.
Crab Apple pointed to the photo still laying on the desk where Smithy had left it. “Lucky guess,” he said sarcastically, resting a hoof on the image of Stinking Rich. “Mean time, I think we can barter with bigger stuff than cash, dontcha think?”
Smithy sat nervously, staring down at the fully melted puddle of pecan ice cream in her bowl. She was at a complete loss for words at this point, cursing herself for being so stupid. “What’d ya have in mind?” she said softly, trying hard to keep her composure.
Crab Apple stared at the possibility for potential that sat before him. “Whadda you call dat farm you two live at again? Sweet Apple Trees?” he teased, realizing that he could get whatever answers he wanted out of this mare if he asked the right questions.
Smithy grit her teeth at the uncomfortable teasing. “Acres,” she corrected, annoyance making its way into her voice.
Crab Apple smirked at the correction. “Acres, right,” he teased. “Big plot a land then, buncha slaves I bet. A fella could get himself in a lotta trouble with space like dat.”
Smithy stood up quickly and slammed her hooves on the desk, letting the bowl of melted ice cream fall to the floor with a loud clang. “Yer not takin’ mah home!” she hollered, hoping to intimidate.
Instead of acting intimidated like Smithy had hoped, Crab Apple sat there calmly and took another drag off his cigar. “Don’t getcha veil in a knot,” he replied, blowing a large smoke ring around her face. “I don’t wanna take away your land. I just wanna get some use outta it. Dat's all.”
Smithy’s jaw tensed up as she listened to his demands, not sure what to expect from him. “What if I refuse?” she asked, hoping to sound more businesslike than intimidated.
Crab Apple took one last long drag off of his cigar, casually blowing one last smoke ring into the air. “Than good luck gettin’ outta here,” he said as he put out his cigar butt in the ash tray. “Even if you do find a way out, we’ll know where ta find you now. And we know about dat boy. How much fun could a kidnappin’ be, am I right? I bet hubby won’t like dat either, ‘specially knowin’ his wifey caused it!”
Smithy was once again cornered by a gangster, with no time to think and nowhere to run. The only way she was going to get herself and her daughter out of this situation was to agree to the terms. “It’s a deal,” she sighed weakly.
She held out a hoof to shake on it, but Crab Apple brushed it away. “We ain’t gotta deal yet,” he said slyly. “I need info on where I can find dis rascal before I accept anythin'. Whadda you got for me?”
It was the day before the slave transaction, and Smithy was a nervous wreck. She knew that Stinking Rich would be meeting up with a few thugs that evening in the hotel dining room to not only hammer out the final details of tomorrow’s slave deal, but also to plan out whatever shenanigans the Faction of the Stud would partake in over the weekend. It was during this meeting that she decided to let Crab Apple and his gang do their work.
The hour was drawing closer, and Smithy did everything she could to keep herself calm. She downed a miniature bottle of whiskey from the mini-bar as she put on her nightgown, hoping the drink would ease her nerves. Her mother was already passed out in the other room, so all she had left to do was get her son to sleep. “Time fer bed, Filthy Rich!” she exclaimed, expecting to see her son protesting. She was prepared to meet his demands that evening, having a water pitcher, a carton of milk, his favorite candy, a stack of bedtime stories, new pajamas, and a brand new teddy bear ready for his bedtime bribe.
What she wasn’t expecting was for her well laid plan to be contradicted by Stinking Rich. “Let the boy stay up,” he said, taking his son’s side of the argument. “We’re on vacation fer heavens sake. Besides, we fellas got some late night plans, don’t we boy?”
Filthy Rich beamed his cutest smile at his mother as he nodded his head. “Daddy’s gonna teach me all ‘bout business tonight!” he exclaimed. “We’re gonna meet some folks in the dinin’ room fer a late night snack, and Uncle Happy’s gonna teach me how to read a map tonight! Lemme stay up, mama! Please?”
Smithy tensed at the mention of her brother’s name. How in Celestia’s name had she forgotten about Happy Trails? “I got a better idea,” she said with what felt like the fakest smile she had ever smiled in her life. “How ‘bout y’all have a sleep over right here in the hotel room with yer Uncle Happy tonight. Y’all can built a fort and play maps in here all night long! I’ll even order us up some pizzas! Don’t that sound like more fun?”
Filthy Rich shook his little head obstinately. “I wanna meet them business ponies!” he protested, bouncing up and down like a brat beside his father.
Smithy watched helplessly as her son marched out of the room, her husband smiling that victorious smile of his as he followed closely behind. There was nothing she could do to stop it without looking suspicious, which only made her panic. She knew she would have to find the Brotherhood of Steeds and come up with something to stop what she had put into motion.
She looked out the window for any sign of the rival gang, having no luck finding anypony in the dark. “Fingle fangle!” she cursed to herself as she paced the room, trying to think of her next move.
Smithy checked the hallway to see if anypony was looking before proceeding out of her room. She knew she was going to look ridiculous wondering around the hotel in her nightgown, but now was not the time to think about vanity. The important thing was making sure her brother and son were kept safe.
She ran down three flights of stairs before reaching the ground level. After a brisk sprint down a few hallways she could see her husband, brother, and son gallivanting about in the lobby with their fellow gang members and some well dressed business ponies.
Smithy hid behind a large potted plant to keep from being seen as she scanned the room for any sign of the Brotherhood. She nearly jumped into the plant pot when she heard a 'psssst!' coming from behind her. “Bruisey!” she snapped quietly, noticing that the waiter pony was dressed as hotel staff and pushing a hotel luggage cart with large suitcases stacked on it. “I gotta find Crab Apple. We gotta change plans.”
Bruisey was not impressed by what Smithy had said, but knew that arguing so close to their target was a bad idea. He coaxed her to sit down on the luggage cart so that he could wheel her away, using the large suitcases full of weaponry to cover her. “Dis place is Faction loyal, lady,” he whispered, frustrated with his charge. “Do you know what kinda trouble it took just gettin’ here? Dis is too big a risk ta change plans on us last minute.”
Smithy looked pleadingly at the pony who was carting her away. “Ya don’t understand,” she begged. “Mah boy and brother are in there! They might get killed! I just found this out!”
While Bruisey sympathized with the pleading pony, he knew how dangerous it could be to alter plans like this on such short notice. “Da boss is in da kitchen,” he said quietly as he turned a corner to be out of his rival’s sight. “You can get there if you go outta da window and climb da fence in da pool area. There’s a back door dat leads to da kichen near da pool. Now hurry it up!”
Without a moment to lose, Smithy dashed down the hallway and jumped out the window. She leapt up on the tall poolside fence, finding the height difficult to climb given how plump she’d gotten over the years. Her nightgown snagged on one of the fence spokes, and she could feel a piece of it tearing off of her nightgown as she cleared the fence. Smithy ran for the kitchen’s back door, thinking nothing of the discarded garment swatch hanging on the fence.
She could see Crab Apple crouched down by the swinging doors that entered into the dining hall. “Hey!” she nearly shouted as she ran up to him. “We gotta stop this! Mah brother and son are out there!”
Crab Apple threw a hoof over Smithy’s mouth, holding her down so as not to let her cause a ruckus. “Shuddup!” he demanded in a stern whisper. “You shoulda thought a dat when you hired me. We’re surrounded by da enemy here! We gotta get in and out quick if we want dis done right.”
Smithy bit down on Crab Apple’s hoof to get him to move it. “Mah idiot husband sprung this news on me last minute,” she explained in the same whispered tone. “Mah son’s the lil’ one, and mah brother’s got three horse shoes on his flank. Whatever ya do, don’t hurt them two!”
Crab Apple breathed a frustrated sigh at the new request that was thrust upon him last minute. “Fine,” he said with gritted teeth. “Salty Ron, grab da boy when you go in. Bruisey, spread da word about da brudder. Wait for my signal on when we attack.”
Smithy breathed a sigh of relief as she watched the ponies scatter, only to notice a less than impressed look on Crab Apple’s face. “Sorry,” she said uncomfortably, turning her gaze down onto the floor.
Crab Apple sneered back at her. “Go back to your room, lady,” he demanded. “We got dis. You’re only slowin’ us down.”
Smithy shook her head obstinately at the command. “I ain’t budgin’,” she replied, putting her hoof down stubbornly.
Crab Apple rested a hoof on his temples, clearly getting aggravated by the unyielding pony who had hired him. “You don’t change up da rules last minute, lady,” he commented harshly before returning to his crouched position near the door. “You see all them guys out there? It’s gonna be tough gettin’ da word out ta everypony with you stickin’ your nose in where it don’t belong.”
Smithy peeked through the crack in the swinging door, noticing ponies and zebras dressed as hotel waiters standing at a buffet table with an elaborate ice sculpture on it. She watched the guard who had frisked her in the warehouse whispering to a zebra who was sharpening a knife near a large watermelon. “Mah brother and son are comin’,” she protested. “I gotta stick 'round or I’ll go crazy!”
Crab Apple ducked back into the kitchen as soon as he saw the Faction of the Stud entering the dining room, making sure to grab Smithy so that she too would not be seen. “You wanna be stubborn? Fine!” he commanded as he stood up to crack his knuckles. “Now we gotta wait while we make even more adjustments. I need you ta do exactly what I say and stay put in here while we work. No acceptations, no matter how bad it gets, stay put! Got it?”
Smithy nodded nervously, wishing she could see what was going on in the dining room right now. Not knowing was driving her crazy!
A half hour passed with no attack, and Smithy was beside herself with worry. She knew her interruption had caused the delay, but the wait was agonizing. She was grateful to see Bruisey walk through the swinging door, a look of determination on his face. “They don’t suspect a thing, boss,” he said proudly. “Everypony’s waitin’ for your signal. You want I should give it ta ‘em?”
Crab Apple smiled sadistically as he picked up a smoke bomb. “Go for it,” he said as he grabbed a book of hotel matches.
Smithy peeked her head out as Bruisey walked out of the kitchen to wave his hoof and signal the start of the attack. Beyond Bruisey, she could see Filthy Rich bouncing happily on his uncle’s lap, eating an enormous lollipop. The young boy looked like he was fighting to keep his eyes open as he rested his head contently on Happy Trails’s chest. “Fergive me,” Smithy begged softly as she watched smoke bombs rolling across the floor.
The dining room came alive with the sounds of panic as the smoke bombs went off. Smithy couldn’t see anything from the cracked door in the kitchen, but she could certainly hear things. She could just make out the outline of a strong figure dragging a much smaller one into a corner and away from the violence, and judging by the little voice shouting racial slurs she could tell that it was Salty Ron holding back Filthy Rich. Now all she needed was to know that her brother was safe.
The smoke began to lift up a bit, allowing the gangs to better see each other. She knew she shouldn’t be surprised to see the Faction of the Stud were just as prepared to fight as the Brotherhood of Steeds, each gang brandishing enough knives to kill off each other. She was terrified to see her own brother pounce on Bruisey, hacking at the waiter pony’s throat and killing him. Smithy gasped as she watched sweet, lovable Happy Trails get up from the bloodied corpse and look around for another pony to kill. The look on her brother’s face was almost animalistic, terror and adrenaline mixed into a terrifying grin.
She watched her brother run to the buffet table to defend another gangster. Together they fought off a small wave of attackers, only to be crushed to death by the enormous ice sculpture on the buffet table.
While they were outnumbered, the Faction of the Stud were still skilled enough fighters to match their attackers. Before long, both gangs were evenly matched in skill and numbers. Crab Apple got a brilliant idea as soon as he saw Stinking Rich and a few other men left standing against the wall with their knives at the ready. “I gotcha boy, Rich Man!” he screamed with a sickening delight over the sounds of fighting. “Come fight me like a man if you don’t wanna see your boy die tonight!”
Smithy stopped breathing as Salty Ron dragged her son at knife point out into the middle of the room. “What are y’all doin’?” she said softly, her heart racing at the violence she had caused.
She had thought to run out and save her son, but was worried that if she’d gone with her maternal instincts that she would no longer have somepony to behave maternally toward. All she could do was pray to the stars that Crab Apple would keep his end of the agreement. She was beginning to doubt that trust seeing as how her brother lay dead beneath an ice sculpture. Tears ran down her cheeks as she watched Filthy Rich begging not to be killed, all the while blaming herself for how much she had scarred him for life.
It was clear that Crab Apple was getting a thrill out of watching Stinking Rich suffer. “Just da two of us, Rich Man,” he said cruelly, smiling like a crazy horse while holding his knife like a killer. “It’s been a long time comin’. One of us ain’t comin’ outta dis without a knife in his belly. So whose it gonna be? You, me, or da boy?”
Stinking Rich grabbed a knife from one of his comrades before approaching his enemy. “I’ma take ya down hard,” Stinking Rich threatened. “Yer just gonna be another notch in mah belt, ya scum bag dock pirate. Now let mah boy go and we’ll see whose blood stains the floor tonight.”
Smithy found herself conflicted on who she wanted to see win. While it was the goal to have her husband killed, she almost wanted to see Stinking Rich win for the sake of her son. She watched the two ponies dodging each other’s blows until the remaining living gangsters formed a cheering circle around them and obscured her vision. It was torture not being able to see what was happening, especially since she knew her son had been brought back into all of this against her wishes. The only thing that let her know that the fight was over was the sound of her son screaming.
With the job done, the two gangs scattered with their opponents rushing to make their own escape. Within minutes, the room was empty, all accept for the scattered corpses and the crying Filthy Rich. Unable to hold back anymore, Smithy pushed open the door.
She was quickly grabbed back into the kitchen by Crab Apple. “Whadda you think your doin’!” he demanded as he dragged her outside to the pool area. “I said don’t go in there! You got cotton in your ears, lady!”
Smithy pushed the gangster off of her and into some pool furniture. “Ya said ya weren’t gonna hurt mah boy or mah brother!” she hollered, hot tears pouring down her face.
Crab Apple’s features softened a bit as he watched the grieving mare. “Would you at least go back da way you came so you don’t look suspicious?" he suggested, pointing at the fence. "And take dat bit a your clothes off da fence with you! You don't wanna leave evidence.”
In spite of what she had just witnessed, Smithy was glad for Crab Apple’s sharp eye for details and the boost over the fence. Without looking back, she ran full tilt back to the window she had jumped out of earlier that night.
Smithy quickly dried her eyes before entering the hall, hoping to look convincing in front of her son. “Filthy Rich?” she asked, trying to sound innocent in front of her crying child.
He looked up at his mother with the saddest look she had ever seen, his little body covered in his father’s blood. “Mama!” he sobbed as they ran to each other and embraced. “Mama! Mah Daddy is… he’s… the bad pony…killed him!”
It broke her heart to watch her son sob so hard over such an intense loss. She had hoped he could have had a good cry in the morning after finding out the news second hand, not have to witness it with his own two eyes. Smithy held him tight as he soaked her with tears, blood, and mucus. “I’m sorry ya had to see this,” she cried softly, hating herself for putting him through what he saw. “That’s what happens when ya get mixed up in gangs. Folks get hurt somethin’ bad.”
Smithy made sure to shield her son’s eyes as she watched Crab Apple walk out of the kitchen. She could tell just by looking at him that he had cried a little bit, but the look in his eyes was strictly business. He gestured to her that he would see her soon before walking out of the dining hall.
Granny Smith knew she shouldn’t be surprised to see the look of horror on her grandchildren’s faces, but seeing the shock in their eyes hurt all the same. “Well, I told ya it had to be done or I'd have lost Kizzy," she explained in her defense, finding it hard to keep a straight face.
Big Macintosh broke the shocked silence he shared with his sisters. “Ah, how'd ya get away with it?" he asked, still too shocked to delve deeper in question.
Granny Smith turned to a few pages littered with obituaries that had been posted in the Equestria Times. “I'd be lyin' if I said I knew, but mah guess is that the Brotherhood of Steeds had somethin' to do with it,” she explained as she pointed out members of the Faction of the Stud who had died that evening. “I knew it weren’t gonna be easy tellin’ Sunflower she lost her husband. Heaven knows mama was tore up ‘bout losin’ her boy, and even more tore up that her grandbaby lost his daddy. But I had to do it or I would of lost mah daughter, even if it still didn’t make what I done any less terrible. I sure regretted what I’d done, but it was made a might bit worse goin’ back home on the same train as the pony who I hired to do it…”
Smithy and her remaining family were finally allowed clearance from the police ponies to go home after days of questioning. She was relieved to hear that nopony in the Faction of the Stud suspected her as an accessory to murdering her husband, nor did her son. She knew this was thanks to Crab Apple's brass tacts strategies that she had blatantly overlooked in her overly emotional state. While his attention to detail was a small relief, she was still concerned that the Brotherhood of Steeds would come to collect their dues at the worst possible time, reintroducing her as a suspect.
When the first opportunity presented itself, Smithy gathered up her mother, son, and slave daughter to get them all out of Baltimare. While she hated having to store Kizzy in the luggage compartment again, she knew keeping her out in public would only cause a controversy worthy of suspicion.
The train ride home in the reserved private car felt like the wake for a funeral. All the curtains were drawn, and everypony in the car was dressed in black. Sew n’ Sow and Filthy Rich were clinging to each other for most of the ride home, grieving their eyes out over the losses they had taken. Smithy had tried to participate in their grief, but her overwhelming guilt kept her at a distance. It was hard to cry over what had happened when she knew full well that she was the cause of it.
Needing to take a break from all the misery, Smithy went to the snack car to get something for her mother and son to drink. She felt it was the least she could do since their recent dehydration was her fault too.
The snack car was loud and bustling with life, a drastic comparison to the private train car Smithy had just come from. Ponies shouted out their orders that they wanted to take back to their train seats, or rushed through their meals in the little booths. All around her was the sound of motion. Smithy ignored the sound of two ponies fighting ovef a booth as she stood in the snack car line trying to decide on what comfort foods she could order that would stay down on an upset stomach when she felt someone tap her on the shoulder.
A cold knot formed in Smithy's stomach, realizing before turning around that the taper was Crab Apple. “Dat dress is more appropriate now, Mrs. Rich,” he snidely commented on the black attire she had worn the day they had met. “Glad I found you on da train. We've been waitin' just as patiently as you have for da cops ta back off, and now we gotta talk."
Smithy grit her teeth at the pony standing beside her, not even wanting to look at him. “Family’s hungry," she mumbled. “It can wait."
Crab Apple chuckled at the reply, placing his hoof upon Smithy’s shoulder as if they were old pals. "Seems as good a time as any," he said, his hoof shaken off Smithy's shoulder. “Now dat we gotta chance, we aught ta get started, unless you were thinkin' of duckin' out on our deal. You wouldn't wanna go back on a deal you made with me, would you, Mrs. Rich?”
Smithy tensed her jaw as Crab Apple spoke, knowing that leaving without fulfilling her obligation was exactly what she had tried to do. “Ya didn’t keep yer end of the bargain,” she said in a hushed tone as she stepped out of the concession line, her accomplice leading her to an empty booth away from the crowd. “Why’d ya kill mah brother? And mah boy, why did he have to see his daddy die? Ya practically used him as bait! Do ya know how messed up he is right now?”
Crab Apple slid a handkerchief across the booth table as a peace offering, which Smithy swatted away. “Calm down before you start a scene,” he said in his defense. “You sprung all dat on me last minute. You think I wanted it all ta go down like dat? You think I like watchin’ a little boy cry like dat? If you do, you got da wrong idea, lady.”
Smithy watched Crab Apple squeezing the handkerchief in his hoof out of frustration, wondering to herself if this was a sincere reaction to what had happened or if it was just an act. “Why didn’t ya just take mah boy out of the room while the fight was goin’ on?” she asked, trying to adjust her tone to one that was more conversational for fear of both their tempers flaring.
Crab Apple sighed heavily as he rubbed his temples. “Dis is gonna sound crazy, but lemme explain,” he said. “I had Salty Ron keep him in da room because I knew what was goin’ on in there. I originally wanted him brought in da kitchen, but with you hidin’ in there, I didn’t want your boy askin’ a lotta awkward questions. He coulda put two and two togetha and found out his mom was involved, and dat woulda really messed him up. You didn’t want dat, did you?”
Smithy was glad that a waiter had shown up with a glass of ice water for each of them. The cold sensation of drinking it helped distract her from how conflicted she was feeling. Clearly some thought was put into this planned disaster on Crab Apple’s end, even if the results weren’t exactly as she had hoped for. “Ya coulda let him loose in the hall,” she suggested as soon as she realized that her water glass was emptied in what felt like only a few sips.
Crab Apple had downed his glass just as quickly as Smithy did, choking a little bit on the last sip. “Whadda you nuts?” he said as he wiped excess water from his lips. “I didn’t know what was goin’ on outside, and you gotta understand dat hotel is Faction loyal. I didn’t want him runnin’ wild where he wasn’t bein’ watched. He coulda got himself hurt, or got more back up, or found out you weren’t in your room like we’d originally planned. Dat’s why I wanted you ta go back upstairs, but you got too stubborn with me.”
Smithy looked down regretfully at the water glass the waiter was refilling it, waiting for him to walk away before the conversation could continue. “Ya should of told me that,” she said, taking her drinking more slowly.
Crab Apple shook his head at the suggestion as the waiter walked away. “You weren’t thinkin’ strait,” he explained. “When a woman gets arguin’, sometimes you gotta do what she says if you don’t want a fight ta escalate. We were runnin’ too short on time for me ta get inta an argument, so I just letcha stay put.”
While insulted by the womanly stereotype, Smithy could see why he would say such a thing. “I ain’t that unreasonable,” she said, trying to hide her hurt feelings.
All Crab Apple could do was roll his eyes as he looked over the rim of his glass in mid sip. “Na, you’re a mom,” he replied after swallowing a mouthful of water. “Look, any good mom woulda gone just as crazy and been just as difficult. It’s what mom’s do. Your heads are all put togetha like dat. Doesn’t make my job any easier, but there you go.”
Smithy was surprised and even a little thrown off by Crab Apple’s behavior, and even a bit insulted by how nonchalantly he was judging her. She wasn’t sure if this was business talk or if he really meant what he was saying. All she knew for certain was that if this was an act, he sure played it off better than her late husband ever did.
Given as much water as the two ponies had consumed, the waiter decided to leave them a pitcher in hopes that they would actually order some food soon. As the waiter left them with menus, there was an uncomfortable silence between the two ponies as they contemplated what they planned to say next.
Having finished her third glass of water, Smithy began to absentmindedly slide the empty glass back and forth between her hooves. “There’s still the issue of mah brother,” she blurted out, still eyeing the glass she was sliding back and forth instead of looking Crab Apple in the eye.
Crab Apple rested his hoof on the sliding glass to make it stop and for her pay attention to him. “There’s still da issue a Bruisey,” he replied, setting Smithy's glass aside.
Smithy was having a hard time thinking about what to say next. She had witnessed Happy Trails committing murder upon Bruisey before watching her brother get crushed to death by an ice sculpture, so what could she possibly say in her defense? “Happy Trails was defendin’ himself,” she retorted, trying to keep an even tone as she finally made eye contact.
Crab Apple had no trouble returning the intense gaze. “You think Bruisey wasn’t doin’ da same thing?” he said in all seriousness. “Salty Ron watched it happen. Bruisey was tryin’ ta keep your brudda down like what we planned, and instead he got cut open. After dat, nopony could keep dat brudda a yours down, so my boys did what they had ta do ta keep alive.”
Smithy didn’t believe that for a second. “A few of yer men couldn’t hold down one pony?” she said with a sarcastic smirk.
Crab Apple’s jaw tensed as he listened to his companion’s ignorant remarks. “So it’s okay ta let my boys drop?” he asked. “I dunno if you remember lady, but you hired us. We’re supposed ta be da good guys in dis, not da Faction. How was I ta know your brudda would go all kill crazy, ‘specially after you gave him such a glowin’ recommendation. I lost three guys ta him before dat ice sculpture took him out.”
Smithy sucked a deep inhale of air in between her clinched teeth. "I didn't say y'all were the baddin's," she scowled. "I said y'all didn't do yer job right. Do ya know how hard it was to get this here train ride home? Not to mention gettin' away from the cops? I'm still scared stiff 'bout yer gang goin' and rattin' on me! Do ya know what havin' a parent stuck in Foalsom Prison can do to a kid, 'cause I sure do!"
Crab Apple reached over the table to grab Smithy by the shoulders. "Sssssssshuddup!" he said in a whispered command. "Nopony's gonna benefit from time in Foalsom, so get dat idea outta your head! We got too much business ta talk about anyway, so pipe down and just listen ta me for once in your stubborn life. Can you do dat? Just once?"
The argument was cut short by the sound of a child screaming. “MAMA!!!” bellowed Filthy Rich, whose outburst had caused everypony in the snack car to stop what they were doing and look. “THE BAD PONY'S ATTACKIN' MAMA! IT’S HIM! IT’S HIM!”
Smithy rushed to her child’s side, scooping him up to try to end the scene which he had just caused. “It’s okay, baby,” she said as he wailed in her ear. “Mama’s gonna getcha outta here. The bad pony ain’t gonna hurt ya. I promise.” Without looking back at Crab Apple, Smithy ran back to the private car with her screaming son.
Sew n’ Sow rushed up to Smithy as soon as she saw her coming through the door. “What in blue blazes is goin’ on?” she exclaimed as she picked up her crying grandson.
Before Smithy could get a chance to explain, Filthy Rich blurted out his answer. “The bad pony, gramma!” he cried. “He’s here! I saw him! He was hurtin' mama! He’s gonna get me!”
Sew n’ Sow hugged and kissed her grandson tenderly, but did not take her eye off of her daughter. “Is this true?” she said in an accusing tone.
Before she could answer, Smithy could feel the train jerking as it slowed down. “We can’t be in Ponyville already,” she said as she ran to the nearest window.
Pulling back the curtains, Smithy was able to confirm this. She watched as Dodge City’s train junction was rapidly coming into view. “Mama, ya gotta get yerself and mah boy of this train,” she said quickly. “That pony is on this train, and he’s comin’ to Ponyville. Y’all are gonna be safer here in Dodge City with one of Stinkin’ Rich’s brothers.”
Sew n’ Sow watched her daughter rush around the car to grab her and her grandson’s saddlebags. “What are ya talkin’ ‘bout?” she asked as Smithy threw her saddlebag onto her back.
Smithy looked around the room one last time as she slung her son’s saddlebag onto his back. “It’s that pony who killed Happy Trails and Stinkin’ Rich,” she said in a hurried voice. “I don’t know if y’all are gonna be safe at Sweet Apple Acres. I need y’all to find a safe place here fer a time ‘til I can make sure it’s safe to come home.”
As if on cue, Sew n’ Sow began to argue. “What 'bout y’all?” she asked. “And what 'bout the farm? And what 'bout Filthy Rich? He’s already late fer startin' up school. Ya can’t just take him outta school like…”
“Ya want him dead or somethin’!” Smithy screamed over her mother’s rambling, which only scared her son even more. “I know it’s not what ya want, but y’all need to be someplace where I know y’ll be safe. Now please, mama, don’t be stubborn with me. With mah husband bein’ dead I don’t know what’s gonna happen, and I need to make sure Sweet Apple Acres is still safe fer mah family to go home to.”
Sew n’ Sow stared her daughter down obstinately as she felt the train stop, all the while listening to Filthy Rich crying. “What ‘bout the luggage?” she asked in one last attempt to be difficult.
Smithy groaned in annoyance as she opened up the train door. “Ya won’t die without yer toothbrush!” she hollered in one last desperate attempt to get her mother to listen to reason. “Grossly Rich owns that general store anyway, so y’all are gonna be just fine. Just please, fer the last time, get off the train!”
Giving into her daughter’s demands, Sew n’ Sow followed behind Smithy with her grandson following closely at her side. “I still think this is a bad idea,” she bickered all the way to the exit. “The least ya could do is let us get our luggage. Mah denture cream’s in there, not to mention mah hair curlers, mah slippers, mah good sweater, mah…”
Smithy tuned out the sound of her mother listing the inventory of her luggage as they got to the exit. “This here’s yer stop,” she said, failing to put on a brave face for her family. “I’ll write to ya all the time, and let ya know when it’s okay to come home. Write to me when yer settled so I know yer safe and so I know where to mail yer letters, okay?”
While she was still wanting to be stubborn, Sew n’ Sow agreed to write to her daughter. “We’ll make due, I guess,” she said in that guilt inducing tone of hers as she hugged her daughter.
It was especially hard for Smithy to say goodbye to hear grieving son. “It’s gonna be okay, I promise,” she said as she hugged him close and kissed him on the cheek.
She could feel him nuzzling his wet cheek up against hers, making it even harder to let go. “Mama,” he said weakly. “What’s gonna happen?”
Smithy found it hard to look her son in the eye. “I dunno, baby,” she replied. “All I know is yer gonna be safe here with yer gramma and uncles 'til all this gets sorted out. Now be a good boy, ya hear?”
Before Filthy Rich could answer his mother, he let out a terrified scream. “Bad pony!” he yelled, pointing at Crab Apple as he jumped out of his mother’s arms to hide behind his grandmother.
Crab Apple tipped his hat cordially as he walked up to the exit, only to be stopped by Smithy slamming her hoof across the exit doorway to block him from leaving. “This ain’t yer stop,” she said with a look that could kill.
She noticed Crab Apple open his mouth to say something, only to close it again under the intensity of her stare. “Stay on the train,” Smithy said with gritted teeth, enunciating each word so that her demands were made perfectly clear.
The conductor noticed the argument and stepped in. “Are y’all comin’ or goin’?” he asked as cordially as he could.
Smithy turned that hard gaze down upon the poor unknowing conductor. “Stay outta this!” she barked, watching him back down a bit. “We’re goin’ back to our seats, so lay off!” The conductor tipped his hat before hollering the ‘all aboard!’ needed to get the train moving again.
Smithy turned her attention onto Crab Apple again, who had already backed off significantly. “The private car,” she instructed as she walked back up the stairs. “We still got a mess of things we need to talk ‘bout. And make sure all yer men are there. Nopony’s followin’ mah mama and son, got it?”
Crab Apple held his hooves up to show he was willing to surrender to her demands. “Alright already!” he said in his defense as he turned to retrieve his gang. "There's fifteen guys here on da train, so expect ta see 'em soon."
Smithy puffed her chest up as she stared Crab Apple down. "Fifteen," she instructed, eyeing Crab Apple like a disobedient colt. "Y'all better not be lyin' to me. If I find out ya let one of yer lackeys loose after mah family, it's gonna be yer back side hangin' over the side of the train all the way to Ponyville. Do I make mahself clear, or so I have to demonstrate?"
Crab Apple's nostrils flared at the threat. "Crystal clear, Mrs. Rich," he said, standing at his full height to show he meant not to be pushed around by a mentally unstable mare. "We'll be in da private car in fifteen minutes, so make sure we got somethin' better ta drink than free water." Crab Apple made a 'got my eye on you' gesture before walking away in a huff.
Smithy watched as the train's exit door was closed, looking out the window one last time to make sure nopony was following her mother or son. While she wanted to make sure all was safe, she also wanted to look upon her family one last time before the impromptu departure. “Bye baby,” she said, blowing a kiss out the window to her son as the train began to roll away. “Mama’s gonna fix this somehow, I promise.”
For the first time since flipping through the scrapbook, Granny Smith did not have a visual to support what she was about to say next. “I’d never felt more outta place in mah own home,” she explained as she looked out the window at the apple orchards, watching as shooting stars streaked across the sky to signal the fourth sign of the zap apple harvest. Even watching the blossoms revealing the grey young zap apples didn’t seem to fill anypony with the joy that it had over the years. After hearing such a tale, how could it compare?
Apple Bloom nuzzled against her grandmother as they stood at the windowsill to watch the star show, glad to feel her grandmother wrapping a front leg around her. “Ya still had Kizzy, right?” she asked innocently.
Granny Smith smiled down at her dear granddaughter, thinking back to when her daughter was that age. “Yer right, I did,” she replied, resting her cheek against the filly’s forehead. “I sure didn’t know it at the time, but the best thing to ever happen to Kizzy was me meetin’ yer Granddad, Crab Apple.”
The Apple grandchildren let out a collective gasp at the mention of their grandfather, a gesture which put a small grin on Granny Smith’s face.
Big Macintosh gazed at a nearby framed photo on the wall, picking it up to put a visual to what his grandmother was saying. “Ya mean this Granddad?” he said as he tried to mentally put the pieces together while holding the framed photo of two old ponies happily holding hooves on a porch swing. “I thought ya said ya met him while vacationin’ outta town with yer family.”
Granny Smith couldn’t help chuckling at her confused grandson. “I did meet him on a family vacation, ya silly goose!” she said with a big wink. “What do ya call that trip to Baltimare? A joy ride?”
Big Macintosh suddenly smiled as all the pieces fell into place. “Nope,” he said, shaking his head at how it all seemed to make sense now.
Granny Smith took the photo from her grandson and hung it back up on the wall. “I gotta be honest, it weren’t love at first sight,” she said as she straitened out the photo, thinking back to when she and her late husband were younger and full of suspicion of each other. “To tell ya the truth, we could barely stand each other. He was just so secretive, so demandin’, and just so darn stubborn…”
The first week back at Sweet Apple Acres was the hardest for Smithy. She surprised herself by how accustomed she had become to the way Stinking Rich ran the household, to a point where she would get short tempered with her unwanted house guests. The Brotherhood of Steeds had camped out in her living room, and Crab Apple was going over every nook and cranny of the house and barn as if he was looking for something.
Crab Apple had made a royal pain of himself with his snooping, popping up out of nowhere at random times and scaring the life out of Smithy. She had a suspicion that he enjoyed how annoying he was becoming, especially when his invasive behavior caused her to embarrass herself or break something. He would pester her in the kitchen, invade upon her chores, and even sneak up on her in the restroom. He had no respect for her privacy whatsoever, and it drove Smithy mad.
Crab Apple was especially interested in the slaves living at Sweet Apple Acres, mostly for their living conditions, working conditions, and health conditions. He explained to Smithy that if they were happy and healthy, they would work better, giving him a much bigger profit. Smithy could care less for his excuses, so long as Kizzy was fairing well.
While things were frustrating enough with the Brotherhood invading her house, it got worse when Sunflower and her children showed up unannounced at her front door just weeks later. Sunflower decided to move in for a while after she and her eight children were forced to foreclose on their home. Happy Trails's moving and delivery business went belly up after his death, and with no money coming, the bankers took the house.
Smithy hated having Sunflower’s children in a house full of gangsters, but Sunflower had assured her that the living arrangements would only be temporary until she could convince her father to let them move in with him in Canterlot. It reminded her of why she had left her mother and son in Dodge City, making her wonder if doing so was the right decision after all. She wanted to get Sunflower and her children out as soon as possible for their safety, but Sunflower knew just how to play the victim card to get what she wanted out of everypony at Sweet Apple Acres. Smithy hated feeling manipulated by her former sister-in-law, but the guilt of knowing she was responsible for the death of Sunflower’s husband was too strong to let her fight back.
With Sweet Apple Acres under the Brotherhood of Steeds's new management, Smithy was glad to use her lack of control of her property to spend a bit more time than usual with her daughter. Of course, that time was always accompanied by Lizza, who still had a talent for dampening Smithy’s material joy. Lizza was convinced that Kizzy’s secret still needed to be kept for her safety, even if her tyrannical master was no longer living. While Smithy was disappointed in this idea, she did not trust Crab Apple enough to let her true feelings toward her daughter out. Lizza’s diligence had become what she considered a necessary evil.
While the sun shown brightly on a hot spring afternoon, Smithy stood outside near a row of beehives with Kizzy and Lizza. They were collecting honey for a batch of pecan ice cream, and Kizzy was thoroughly enjoying her time with the bees. Considering the fact that Sunflower’s children were scared of bees, Kizzy found this to be a refreshing break from being pestered. She didn’t mind the bee stings nearly as much as she did the stingingly unkind words from the little Seed children.
Kizzy loved how the bees tickled her ears as they crawled around on her head, the sounds they made as they buzzed through the air, and the fresh smell of flowers left on them after their pollinating exploits. She liked watching them dance to talk to each other, the action reminding her of Tess’s stories of Zebrican tribal dancing. Everything about taking care of the bees was fun and exciting. The only downside to spending time with the bees was that Lizza was just as terrified of the insects. Kizzy waved to Lizza as she watched the older slave hide behind a tree for fear of the bees.
Smithy was much braver with the bees than Lizza was, and was excited to show her daughter how much they loved flowers. She had to admit to herself how adorable Kizzy looked wearing an oversized apron and Happy Trail’s old army helmet as the two of them approached the hives with her offering of flowers. She tuned out Lizza's hollered concerns from behind the safety of the tree as she watched Kizzy calmly interact with the hives.
Kizzy seemed to have a real gift with the bees, and was overjoyed when a bee landing contently on her nose. Kizzy rushed up to Smithy to show her the insect who hadn’t stung her, smiling at her accomplishment and new little friend. “Look!” she said in an excited whisper. “Does it like me? I think that it likes me! Should I give it a name?”
The family moment was cut short as soon as they noticed Crab Apple walking up. “Gotta watch it, kiddo,” he teased, smiling as he knelt down to Kizzy’s level. “Them bees see your yella and black stripes, they’ll think your nothin’ but a big bee. Then they’ll turn you inta their queen, and fly you off ta a flower patch where we’ll never see you again!”
Kizzy smiled at the joke as she watched the bee fly away from her nose. “Yes, Mr. Crab Apple,” she replied politely. “We are collecting honey. Do you see? Misses is teaching me how to be nice to the bees so that they make sweet honey. It is messy and sometimes they sting, but it is so very fun! Do you see the honey jars we collected? Salty Ron says we will make good ice cream with sweet honey.”
Smithy smiled at her daughter’s childlike enthusiasm, happy to see that her daughter was so proud of herself. She watched Kizzy bringing Crab Apple up to a row of jars containing the honey they had collected, talking a mile a minute about how proud she was of all the honey she had collected.
Crab Apple opened a jar and dipped the tip of his hoof in, gathering enough for a nice tasty sample. “Mmmmmm! Mmmmmm!” he complimented as he stuffed the glob of honey in his mouth. “Boy, dat is tasty! It’s so good dat you better watch out for pirate bees. They sneak up on da honey jars, steal ‘em, and gobble ‘em up before you can blink! Like dis!”
Kizzy laughed as Crab Apple pretended to shove invisible honey in his face, acting like an idiot as he made slurping noises with his tongue sticking out of his mouth. "Bees do not eat like that, Mr. Crab Apple!" she laughed heartily.
Crab Apple playfully stuck his tongue out at the laughing slave. “They don’t?" he teased, resting his hoof upon his brow as though his mind had been blown. “Lemme guess, they're dainty, like dis." Crab Apple pretended to act like an upper class pony with the jar of honey, making an even bigger fool of himself and making Kizzy laugh all the harder.
Smithy had to admit to herself that Crab Apple was much more kindly to the slaves than her late husband had ever been. It was a relief to watch Kizzy smiling and laughing, unlike how she behaved with her previous master. “I hate to put a bee in yer bonnet,” Smithy interrupted, standing between Crab Apple and Kizzy. “Iffn ya don’t mind, we still got this here chore to finish up before it gets dark.”
As if on cue, Crab Apple pulled a notebook out of his vest pocket. “Funny you should mention,” he said as he flipped through it. “I gotta chore I need you for. Lizza, can you hold down da honey with Kizzy while I borrow Mrs. Rich?”
Lizza nodded happily from her spot behind a tree. “I will do my best, Mr. Crab Apple,” she said as she swatted at a bee.
Smithy couldn’t help cracking a smile as she watched the bee sting Lizza before turning her attention back to Crab Apple. “Can’t it wait?” she asked. “I reckon we still got a mess to clean up after we’re done, and after that we gotta cook dinner.”
Crab Apple held up his notebook, writing in it as Smithy spoke. “Can it not wait?” he replied flatly. “Sun ain’t gonna be up all day you know, and I got stuff everypony needs ta get done. Da bees'll be here when you get back.”
Smithy looked at that cheeky smile on Crab Apple’s face, hating that she was allowing him to push her around so much in her own house in exchange for blackmail and police protection. “This better be quick,” she replied as she took off her apron and slung it over a tree branch.
Crab Apple lead her out of the bee field as he put his notebook back in his pocket, jumping slightly as a bee stung him on the flank. “Chores are only as quick as you let ‘em be,” he replied as he rubbed at the bee sting. “And I won’t change up plans on you last minute, so dat’ll help. We all know what happens when plans get changed up, don't we?”
Crab Apple lead Smithy to the porch swing, pretending to act like a gentleman as he offering her a seat. “Big piece a property here,” he said as he took his notebook back out. “Makes it hard ta find stuff sometimes, don’t you think?”
Smithy rolled her eyes as she watched Crab Apple tapping impatiently on his notebook with a pencil. “What are ya gettin’ at now?” she said with a frustrated sigh.
Crab Apple lifted an eyebrow at Smithy’s attitude. “Papers,” he replied. “Da Faction must a had a spot where they did their business, and where there’s business, there’s papers. I lifted just about every board in da house and in da barn lookin’ for papers, and I can’t find anythin’. I need you ta point ‘em out for me.”
Smithy was surprised that this was all he wanted. “Ya check the bunkhouse yet?” she asked.
Crab Apple shook his head as he flipped through pages in his notebook. “Nopony told me about dis bunkhouse,” he said as he reviewed his notes. “You been keepin’ secrets from me?”
Smithy shook her head she watched Crab Apple write frantically in his notebook. “Ain’t nopony told me ya were lookin’ fer it,” she explained. “Mah brother built it years ago so him and his band could have a spot to practice while they were in town without disturbin' everypony. It’s a couple miles west of here, back in the west orchard.”
Satisfied to have found an answer, Crab Apple closed his notebook. “Lead da way,” he commanded.
Smithy shot him a sideways glance as he held a helpful hoof out for her to take. “Ya want me to do what now?” she asked with a raised eyebrow.
Crab Apple quickly set his hoof down, pursing his lips in frustration. “Unless you gotta map someplace you ain’t told me about, then I need a guide,” he explained. "So get off your flank and lead da way, or do I have ta get somepony else ta do it? Kizzy maybe? I bet she'd be up for an adventure, but I'd hate takin' her away from those bees. You know how she loves them things."
Smithy rolled her eyes at Crab Apple's fake theatrics. "Fine," she said with a smirk as she hopped forcefully off the porch swing, glad to know that the motion of her jump made it come back and hit Crab Apple. "The sooner we get out there, the sooner we can come on back."
The three mile hike to the bunkhouse was awkwardly silent as neither pony had anything much to say to each other. The only time they had anything worth saying to one another was when they arrived at the run down place. “Dis is it?” Crab Apple said, crinkling up his nose at how run down the bunkhouse was from the outside.
Smithy nodded nonchalantly as she watched a roof tile slide off. “Eeyup,” she said as she went to the door. “What, don’t like gettin’ yer hooves dirty?”
Crab Apple sneered at the snide comment as he walked up the porch. “Ladies first,” he said in a smart-alecky tone.
A group of birds flew out at them the moment Smithy opened the door. Crab Apple swatted angrily at the creatures with his fedora hat as the birds darted toward him, cursing at them as they finally flew away. “I hate boyds!” he exclaimed as he put his hat back on, disappointed to see that there were several more birds roosting around the room. “What a dump! Your husband actually worked outta dis mess?”
Smithy crinkled up her own nose to the odd assortment of odors wafting out of the bunkhouse. “I always hated comin’ by here,” she said, walking gingerly around piles of heaven only knew what. “I guess it weren’t a concern of theirs to keep things tidy.”
Crab Apple looked up into the rafters at a line of resting birds. “I gotta get these boyds outta here,” he said as he picked up a horseshoe. “They’re gross! And they’re makin’ a mess everywhere!”
Smithy watched him throw the horseshoe up toward his targets, making the birds scatter. She laughed as one of them pooped right on his face, laughing even harder as she listened to him curse and swear about how grossed out he was. “Good shot, lil' fella!” she laughed, snorting in her laughter as he turned to her.
Crab Apple would have shot her a dirty look, but he was afraid to get bird droppings in his eyes. “Yeah, ha ha,” he said sardonicly. “Dis place better have a water pump or somethin’. I hate boyds!”
Smithy watched Crab Apple stumble around blindly with a hoof out, trying desperately to find a sink. “To yer left,” Smithy suggested, getting a sadistic thrill out of watching him take a wrong turn. “No! Yer other left! Yer 'bout to hit a… oh ferget it. I’ll lead ya there.”
Grabbing Crab Apple by the sleeve of his shirt, Smithy lead him up to a sink full of dirty dishes. She began to pump the water, which Crab Apple was happy to splash upon his face.
Spitting a mouthful of water out into the sink, Crab Apple sighed contently at being cleaned off. “Did I get it all?” he asked as soon as he felt cleaner, feeling around on his face for any more bird poop that he might have missed.
Smithy tried to suppress her laughter at how grossed out he was. “Looks like it,” she said as he blindly reached out for something to dry his face.
Crab Apple reacted disgusted once again when he realized he’d dried his face with a lady’s undergarment. “We gotta get da papers and get outta here!” he hollered, completely grossed out by now.
Knowing where the safe was kept, Smithy began to tap on the walls of the bunkhouse to find the hollow space. “Behind these here boards,” she said as she began to slide some wall boards out of place. “He thought it was sneaky to keep it all hidden.”
Crab Apple trotted up eagerly to the wall to help remove the rest of the boards. “Dat’s da ticket!” he exclaimed, surprised to see something so carefully hidden covered in cigar butts.
Brushing away the mess, Crab Apple set an ear against the safe to listen to the sounds of the knob turning. He knew that if he could hear the right kinds of clicks, he would be able to discover the safe’s combination.
Smithy stood back to watch him work, noticing by his cursing when he made mistakes. She had thought to say something, but it was more fun watching him struggle.
Crab Apple could hear her chuckling every time he cursed, which only served to annoy him even further. “You know how ta clean house?” he hollered at her. “Mind makin' yourself useful while I work, or are you too spoiled by your zebra slaves for dat kinda thing?”
Offended by the comment, Smithy immediately took to her feet. “I ain’t spoiled!” she replied in her defense.
Crab Apple smirked at the fuming pony standing in front of him. “You ain’t?” he said sarcastically. “You wanna prove it, lady? Actions speak a lot louder than words.”
Smithy looked over the sea of litter in the room, knowing that this was not going to be an easy task. “Ya know where I can find a broom?” she asked stubbornly.
Now at the end of his rope, Crab Apple rested his head against the safe. “How da hay should I know,” he said, frustration prevalent in his voice. “Maybe one a da boyds knows. Maybe they pooped on it. Maybe they’ll poop on it for you so you know where ta find it!”
As if on cue, one of the birds pooped on top of Crab Apple’s head. “Stupid boyds!” he screamed, taking off his fedora hat to see the white splatter on his hat tinged with berry red. “They’re eatin’ berries now! What is dis! You think dis is a joke, boyds!”
Smithy could barely control her laughter as Crab Apple flailed about the room. Throwing his dirtied fedora at her feet, Crab Apple began to holler at her. “Get rid a these boyds!” he commanded. “I don’t care how you do it, but do it! I hate boyds!!!”
It took over half an hour before the safe code was cracked. In that time Smithy had made a dent in the cleaning. She could not however find a way to keep the birds from coming back into the bunkhouse, much to Crab Apple’s annoyance. According to him, they had starting using him as target practice.
In spite of the previous argument, the tension had let up since they had both gotten to work in the bunkhouse. Even the continued bird droppings had become something of a lowbrow joke between the two of them.
Crab Apple rejoiced as soon as he was able to open the safe door. “Jackpot!” he exclaimed as he watched various treasures pouring out onto the dirty floor. “Now for some info. Dis is gonna help me get da edge on what they got cooked up in Baltimare.”
Smithy threw down her broom to have a look at the paperwork, particularly anything that pertained to her. She watched nervously as Crab Apple held up her old marriage certificate.
He giggled briefly when she saw the name written on it, turning a big, teasing grin at Smithy. “Granny Smith?” he asked as Smithy snatched away the contract. “Guess it’s better then Mrs. Rich, ain’t it.”
Smithy hadn’t been called by her biological name in years, and even at her age she still didn’t care for it. “Most folks just call me Smithy,” she said with an aggravated blush.
Crab Apple shrugged his shoulders as he continued to dig through the safe’s contents. “Suit yourself,” he said as he held up a map. “I guess I’ll have ta get used ta callin’ you Smiddy, unless you like bein’ called Mrs. Rich.”
Smithy rolled her eyes at the small talk. “It’s pronounced ‘Smithy’,” she said, commenting on Crab Apple’s Baltimare accent.
Crab Apple stopped rooting around in the safe for a moment, looking up at Smithy with a bit of confusion. “Uh, dat’s what I said,” he replied before finding a broken necklace. “Say, look at dis. Looks like zebra weavin’ patterns, and dis rock! Woah!”
Smithy’s heart raced the moment her eyes fell upon that all too familiar onyx. “Gimme it,” she demanded, reaching out for the precious trinket.
Crab Apple held it away, intimidated by the hungry look in Smithy’s eye. “Stop bein’ grabby!” he exclaimed. “What’s wrong with you? Why’s it in here if you want it so bad?”
Smithy punched Crab Apple in the mouth, which let his guard down long enough for her to grab the necklace. She then rushed to a corner of the room where she could be alone with her long lost trinket.
It had been years since the last time she had held that necklace. The familiar smooth touch of the onyx was like touching a past that had since hardened over. She held it close to her neck, knowing that it would never stay in place because the cord had been broken. She remembered the day that it was broken and taken from her, a day that she had made a very bad decision. A big tear ran down her face as she thought about the day Bladire had given it to her as a farewell present in Canterlot, and how long it had been since she had seen him.
The room had fallen silent, save for the soft scuttling of birds in the rafters. Crab Apple was hesitant to say anything until he thought he heard what sounded like crying. “You alright there, Smiddy?” he asked cautiously.
He slowly approached the green pony and placed what he thought was a comforting hoof on her shoulder. Smithy immediately shook it off as if it was a threat. “Leave me alone,” she mumbled as she held protectively onto the necklace.
Something was clearly wrong, and Crab Apple was determined to get to the bottom of it. “I’d do dat, but somethin’s buggin’ you,” he persisted. “Da minute you saw dat necklace you went crazy on me. You don’t go givin’ somepony a fat lip like dis if it weren’t somethin’.”
Smithy shook her head wildly, tears pouring over more prevalently. “It’s none a yer dang business!” she shouted as she pushed Crab Apple into a large pile of garbage before running out the front door with the necklace gripped in her teeth.
Crab Apple struggled with the pile of trash as he got himself upright. “Hey!” he shouted out the front door. “Where you goin’! I don’t know my way back! Hey!”
Smithy could hear Crab Apple calling for her, but she did not care to turn around to explain herself. Running away just felt too good for her to even care anymore.
She gained speed as she ran though the Everfree Forest, easily dodging obstacles she knew would slow her pesky pursuer. As far as she was concerned, it was none of his business why she felt the way that she felt or what significance the necklace had. All Crab Apple had ever done for her was kill Stinking Rich, and the only reason he did it was to blackmail her into using her property for his own gains. She didn’t feel that she owed him any explanations. She was keeping her end of the bargain, so he may as well keep his.
The run through the forest reminded Smithy of how out of shape she had gotten over the years. On top of the pounds she had gained from being married, she had put on a few more since the death of her husband. It didn’t help that she’d lived a rather sedimentary lifestyle after she became a mother. She breathed heavily as she slowed her pace, glad that there was a good distance between herself and Crab Apple.
Glad to have finally reached her destination, Smithy lay down and rested underneath a familiar shady tree. She began to catch her breath while sweat poured from her forehead. The spot was peaceful and quiet, a nice spot for one to be buried at.
She looked down lovingly at the memorial stick that showed where Bladire was laid to rest. “It’s been a while,” she said sadly as she lay down next to the stick, breathing in the scent of the grass that had grown over where Bladire’s body lay. “I've been meanin’ to come see ya since I got back from Baltimare. I had to save Kizzy from bein’ sold off, so I hired somepony to kill Stinkin’ Rich fer us. I sure feel guilty fer doin’ that, but he killed y’all so we’re even, right?”
Smithy listened to the sounds of nature all around her, hoping that the sounds would give her a justified answer for what she had done. The birds, the babbling stream, the wind through the trees, everything reminded her of how much she missed Bladire. And if she listened close enough, she could just make out the sound of Crab Apple’s complaining in the distance. “Hear that?” she said to the memorial stick. “That’s the pony I hired to kill Stinkin’ Rich. I met him in Blatimare. He’s a real pain in the flank, but he treats the zebras good. Who knows, ya might’ve liked him.”
She sighed as she listened to the distant Crab Apple fall and land in something that clearly aggravated him. “We ain’t involved romantically, in case yer wonderin’,” she said to the memorial stick. “Nopony could take yer place, Bladire. I wish ya were still here.”
Smithy began to tune out Crab Apple’s distant complaining. Clearly he was lost, which suited her just fine. All she wanted right now was to be left alone to spend time at the grave of her long gone lover, and the last thing she wanted right now was to be found. She daydreamed about being buried next to Bladire, sharing the earth like they once shared their love. It would be quite the relief from the recent events. If only she could just get the nerve up to do herself in...
Hours wiled away as Smithy sat in a nostalgic haze, daydreaming about the life she wished she could have shared with Bladire. She hadn’t noticed that the sun had gone down, or that Crab Apple had finally found her after several hours of searching. “Where da hay have you been, lady!” he hollered as he grabbed her shoulders in an attempt to get her attention. “I’ve been lookin’ for you for hours! What’s got inta you!”
Smithy backed away solemnly, trying to keep her temper even. She’d enjoyed her peaceful time at Bladire’s grave too much to let Crap Apple’s temper get the better of her. “Yer a mess,” she replied softly, noticing that the orange pony was covered in mud and had leaves stuck in his red mane.
Crab Apple noticed how placidly she was acting, which was quite the shift in tone from the crazy routine he’d seen at the bunkhouse. “Somepony you know?” he asked more calmly, noticing the necklace he’d found in the safe wrapped around the memorial stick.
Smithy nodded as she lay back down next to the stick. “Eeyup,” she said softly as she wrapped a grieved hoof around the stick.
Clearly the display of affection meant that this was somepony special, and Crab Apple had a feeling the necklace had something to do with it. “Did dat necklace belong ta an old gal pal or somethin’?” he asked as he took a seat next to the grave, hoping to guess what it was that had gotten Smithy so upset.
Smithy shook her head, not even looking at him as she said ‘nope.’
Crap Apple reached out for the necklace to get a better look at it, only to have his hoof swatted away. “Geeze, sorry,” he said, rubbing his hoof where it had been hit. “I wasn’t tryin’ ta steal it. You didn’t steal it off somepony yourself, did you?”
Smithy looked up at Crab Apple, appalled by what he just said. “How dare ya!” she said, beginning to tear up. “That there necklace was a gift. He gave it to me because I reminded him of his sister, and she got stolen from him!”
While Crab Apple was glad to have made some leeway, he tensed up at the sound of timberwolves howling in the distance. “Ah, Smiddy?” he said, looking around for where the sound was coming from. “Think we can pick up on dis conversation someplace safer?”
Noticing a pair of eyes glowing in the distance, Crab Apple began to poke Smithy to get her to move. “We ain’t alone, lady!” he hollered, poking more furiously.
Smithy dismissed the poking, still too deeply in her mopey mood. “Whatever,” she sighed as she pawed at the necklace wrapped around the base of the memorial stick. "Let 'em at me. I don't care."
The glowing eyes were advancing upon them, and their numbers had multiplied. Crab Apple noticed that they were approaching from more that one side of them. “It’s an ambush!” he declared as he shook Smithy furiously. “We gotta get outta here or we’re toast! Quit mopin’ and start runnin’!”
Annoyed by having been shook so hard, Smithy reached up to push Crab Apple away. As soon as she did, she saw how many sets of eyes were staring at them. The timberwolves were so close that she could smell their sulfuric breath. One of them was looking her dead in the eye, ready to pounce on her. Acting on instinct, she covered her face and screamed in terror as it leapt through the air to attack her.
Rather than feeling the pain that her body had braced itself for, Smithy felt a few sticks gently landing on her. When she opened her eyes, she saw that Crab Apple had knocked it off its trajectory course, and that the timberwolf had broken to pieces. The timberwolves had swarmed on him, and he was bucking them away for dear life. “Run, lady!” he hollered as he shattered another one.
Instead of running, Smithy began to frantically try unwrapping the precious onyx necklace that had been absent from her life for so long. For some odd reason, she could not get it untangled. Crab Apple was hollering at the top of his lungs for her to run, but she just couldn’t leave it behind.
As she worked to untangle her trinket, a defeated timberwolf had rebuilt itself silently beside her without her even noticing it. It began to salivate as it growled a foul smelling growl. Smithy turned around just in time to see its face just inches from hers. She squeezed her eyes shut in fear as it open its jaws, only to feel Crab Apple wrapping his arms around her to protect her. Crab Apple was thrown off of her by the strong jaws of the timberwolf, who was eagerly gnawing on his arm.
Crab Apple screamed out in pain as the other timberwolves advanced upon him, fearing that this was going to be the end. The last thing he was expecting was to see them falling down around him. He watched as Smithy bucked wolf after wolf to pieces before taking out the one who had its teeth lodged in his arm.
While he was relieved to have been rescued, Crab Apple began to panic as he watched the wolf sticks levitate in a green magical light. “Let’s get outta here!” he screamed as he tried to get on his feet. He fell down in a heap of pain due to the injury on his arm, screaming and cursing as he hit the ground.
Knowing that the only way they were going to survive was to work together, Smithy stood beside Crab Apple and allowed him to throw the injured limb over her shoulder. It wasn’t what she wanted, but knew she couldn't bare to be responsible for the death of somepony else again. The guilt was too much to bear, but if she was going to avoid another death, then she would just have to hold off on her own.
Smithy took one last look at Bladire's memorial stick, feeling guilty for leaving his most precious gift to the mercy of the timberwolves. “Run with me,” she commanded as she and Crab Apple took off together.
With Crab Apple being much taller and Smithy being much fatter, the leaning run was not an easy plan to pull off. They knew their time was limited due to the timberwolves ability to quickly rebuild themselves, which only made the run that much more stressful. Thankfully, the bunkhouse was not all that far off, and Smithy knew the way back.
By the time the timberwolves were pursuing them again, the two ponies had reached clear land near the bunkhouse. They hobbled as quickly as they could toward the bunkhouse, listening to the terrifying howls of their hungry hunters not far behind them.
Smithy threw Crab Apple off her shoulder the moment they opened the bunkhouse door. She slammed it shut and locked it, breathing harder than she had in all her life. She jumped when she heard a timberwolf slam against the door at full force. After that she heard them sniffing and scratching around the doors and windows for a weak spot that they could use to enter.
Turning her attention to the hurt pony moaning out in pain on the floor, she asked him, “Ya hurt?”
Crab Apple screamed as he held out his bleeding limb. “YEAH, I’M HURT!” he hollered, his face screwed up in an expression of pure agony. “I got bit by a dang timberwolf! Dis ain’t acupuncture!”
Smithy rummaged around for the first aid kit under the sink, only to see that there was a hole the size of a dinner plate in the wall that lead to the outside of the bunkhouse. She saw a snarling timberwolf make eye contact with her through that hole. “I gotta scare ‘em off,” she said as she slammed the sink cabinet shut. “With how run down this here place is, they’re gonna find a way in! I gotta make some noise to scare ‘em off or they’ll get us.”
Crab Apple crouched over his bleeding arm when he saw a drooling timberwolf leering at him through the window. “How you gonna do dat?” he asked meekly, panicking as he watched the timberwolf rooting around for a weak spot on the window frame.
Smithy looked around for anything made of metal, remembering how banging pots helped scare timberwolves away from the farm around zap apple season. “I’m gonna need some rope,” she instructed. “We’re gonna tie a bunch of metal to me and I’m gonna run out there and make enough noise to scare ‘em off. If ya can’t find rope, I need ya to use anythin’ ya can find to help tie stuff on me.”
While Crab Apple could have argued with the crazy idea, the sight of the timberwolf trying to shake the weak window frame open put an end to that. He began to rip strips from a blanket with his good arm and his teeth, trying to ignore the putrid taste it left in his mouth.
Smithy rushed around the bunkhouse looking for anything that would make noise, ignoring the invasive noises from outside. It didn’t take long to gather a few dirty pots, several spoons, a mold covered cheese grater, fire place pokers, an iron, and several cider mugs.
Crab Apple quickly helped tie the metal menagerie onto Smithy with the blanket strips. “Good luck,” he said as she approached the door.
With a loud holler, Smithy took off into the night, clanging as loudly as she ran. Crab Apple could hear her running around the bunkhouse, and watched with relief as the timberwolf who had tried to get in through the window ran away. The sounds were scaring the timberwolves back into the Everfree Forest where they belonged.
Getting up the nerve to take a look, Crab Apple opened the door to see Smithy bucking at a few stubborn timberwolves who were not ready to leave yet. Those stubborn timberwolves ran off after regenerating, deciding it best not to try their luck again.
With the timberwolves defeated, Smithy walked back up to the bunkhouse. “I… got ‘em…” she breathed heavily, not used to so much physical exertion in one day. “I’m… gonna be… sore… in the mornin’.”
While grateful for the win over the timberwolves, Crab Apple knew that he had to bandage up his bleeding arm. “Can you get da first aid kit now?” he begged. “I’m losin’ a lotta blood here.”
Smithy poured peroxide over the open wounds, watching Crab Apple wince as the sores bubbled white with what would have been a nasty infection. “I’m sorry ‘bout all this,” she apologized as she wrapped a clean bandage over the wound, glad to know that the contents of the first aid kit had remained clean. “Ya saved mah life out there, and now yer all bit up over it. Can ya ever fergive me?”
Crab Apple eyed the mare bandaging his wounds, not sure what to think of her. “Dat depends,” he said with an unhappy sneer. “You owe me an explanation for all dis. Tell me what’s buggin’ you and I’ll decide for myself if you deserve forgiveness.”
Smithy stared wide eyed in fear at the propositioning pony. “I can’t,” she said, her cheeks burning red hot with embarrassment. “It’s too indecent. Ya’d judge me badly. I’m sorry, but I just can’t.”
Crab Apple could see embarrassed tears forming around Smithy’s eyes. The sheer look of her reminded him of a child who’d been caught doing something wrong. “Lady, I’m a king pin,” he explained. “I’ve seen all kinda indecent stuff. I’m sure anythin’ you did don’t compare ta anythin’ I seen.”
Smithy looked up at him with wet eyes, not sure if she could trust him. “I don’t know if y’ll blabber what ya hear,” she explained. “Ya broke into a safe fer heavens sake! How do I know mah secrets are safe with ya?”
It was a valid question, and one Crab Apple wished he had a good answer for. “I guess we’ll have ta do it for da sake a peace between us,” he said. “Scouts honor, nothin’ leaves dis bunkhouse, includin’ anything I say ta you. Deal?”
The two shook hooves on the deal, and Smithy began her tale. She told Crab Apple all about her family and her father’s prison sentence, and how his trial lead to acquiring Sweet Apple Acres from Princess Celestia after she had accidentally captured a runaway slave. She then explained how the runaway slave had become her friend and eventually her lover, going into details about the night she had conceived his child. She explained everything about her horrible, abusive relationship with her husband and why she had hired Crab Apple to kill him. By the time she was finished telling her story, she was a crying wreck.
Crab Apple was stunned into silence as he listened to the story. “Wow,” he finally said after a long pause. “Never would a thought dis about you, but I’m glad ta know what makes you tick. And if I gotta be honest, I’m glad ta know you tick for all da right reasons.”
He handed Smithy his bloodied handkerchief to help her to dry her eyes. While she appreciated the gesture, she instead used the back of her arm to wipe her tears away. “So yer not all weird 'bout everythin’ I told ya?” she said, sounding surprised as she looked up at him with moist, puffy eyes.
Crab Apple smiled as he shook his head. “I dunno if ‘weird’ is da best way ta put it,” he explained. “All I know is dat we got a lot more in common than I was expectin’ ta hear, especially when it comes ta zebras.”
Smithy was now intrigued by what Crab Apple had to say. “So ya don’t like slavery too?” she asked. “Don’t get me wrong, but what 'bout Salty Ron? Ain't he yer slave?”
Crab Apple smirked as he thought back to the gristled zebra who made his pecan ice cream. “Me and him go way back,” he explained. “He’s more like a brudder than a slave. He’s been with me since I was a colt, and we grew up togetha. Dad bought him when I was a kid, and at first I thought slavery was great.”
Smithy looked at him with disappointment, but Crab Apple held up a hoof to quiet her. “Lemme explain,” he said in his defense. “When you was a kid, didn’t you hate chores too? Imagine lettin’ somepony else do it all for you. I didn’t think anythin’ about it back then, but dat was more me bein’ a product a my environment."
Crab Apple leaned back against the wall as he reminisced about his childhood. "Salty Ron was my guy for everythin’," he said with a far away look in his eye. "I never heard him complain about anythin’, and we got on like a pair a dogs. ‘Course he always accepted da blame when we got in trouble. You know, like a slave's supposed ta do. I didn’t understand what he went through until one night I caught my dad beatin’ da snot outta him for somethin’ I did. Changed my perspective on lettin’ him take da blame, dat's for sure. Things changed after dat. I got ta know him and he got ta know me like friends are suppose ta do, and next thing you know we’re da best a pals him and me.”
Smithy was glad to know that the relationship between Crab Apple and Salty Ron was based on a genuine companionship. “So that’s why ya treated him so good in Baltimare,” she said with relief.
Crab Apple tilted his head sideways while nodding a little bit. “Sorta, but there’s more ta it then dat,” he continued. “See, he told me about where he came from and why he was in Equestria. 'Course, I didn't know nothin' about dis 'cause I was a kid, but it scared me. Here I thought he just lived with us for some kinda benefit, but boy was I wrong. I felt terrible, but I knew if Salty Ron tried gettin' out on his own he'd be a sittin' duck. I wanted him ta be safe 'cause he was my pal, so after dat we did everythin’ togetha. We were thick as thieves all through growin' up, and he even helped me with dis romance I had with another zebra when I was a teenager.”
The mention of slave romance had peeked Smithy’s interest. “Ya loved a slave too?” she asked enthusiastically.
Crab Apple sighed sadly as he thought about his first love. “Yeah, it didn’t end so good,” he replied. “Dad bought dis beautiful gal named Kizzy, and lemme tell you she did not wanna be there. I tried bein’ all nice and what not, but she didn’t like me at first. I’d a never got anywhere with her if Salty Ron wasn’t my wingman.”
Smithy was enjoying Crab Apple's story of his youth. “Ya musta been a real nice boy back then,” she said, glad to see Crab Apple smile a little at the compliment.
In spite of the compliment, Crab Apple still held his head low as he thought more on his adolescence. “Dad called it weakness,” he replied. “Him and me never really got on, see? He said I was too much like mom, and I hated him for dat. Kept callin' me soft, spineless, a real spaghetti noodle like mom. Mom used ta let dad walk all over her all da time, never standin' up to him. She just kept bein' da good little wifey ‘til da day she died, and after she was gone, dad drank more than ever."
Having come from a good, loving family, Smithy couldn't even imagine what that kind negative impact an environment had on Crab Apple. "That's a real shame," she said, setting a comforting hoof on his shoulder to show her support. "I guess it explains why yer so rough 'round the edges."
Crab Apple chuckled at the remark. "Hey, it ain't all bad," he explained. "I ended up standin' up ta him one night when he got real drunk. I got beat up real bad for it, but it was better me then Kizzy. After I woke up from gettin' my lights punched out, I found out I saved Kizzy from dad’s advances. See, dad used ta get drunk all da time and go force himself on da slave girls. He used ta tell mom it wasn’t cheatin’ since zebra’s weren’t ponies, but I had dis feelin’ it was a lie. He’d never did it ta Kizzy before, but he was gonna try it dat night. After da fight was over and dad wondered off, her and Salty Ron came back for me and patched me up. We ended up runnin’ away togetha dat night.”
Smithy covered her mouth with her hooves as she thought about the dangers they were facing. "Where'd ya go?" she exclaimed. "I know how hard it is fer slaves to run away after everythin' Bladire told me. Were ya ever caught?"
Crab Apple waved a dismissive bandaged hoof. "Na, we were good," he replied. "We were livin' outta da dock warehouses like we do now, and with me around, folks just thought they was mine, so nopony cared. 'Course we knew better, and before you know it da three a us became pretty good friends. Kizzy kept callin' me her hero, so dat helped with da flirtin', if you know what I mean."
Smithy blushed at the talk of flirtation. "Oh, go on," she encouraged, just now realizing how long it had been since she'd last enjoyed anything like that.
Crab Apple rolled his eyes at Smithy's demure looks. "Her and me talked a lot," he said. "While we liked da romance and all, she used ta tell me she wanted ta go home more than anythin', and try ta find her brudder she lost when she was dragged on a boat ta Equestria. She was really hopin’ he made it back already. Just listenin’ ta her and Salty Ron talk about slavery made me feel like I had ta do somethin’ about it. They were my friends, you know? I didn’t want ‘em unhappy."
Smithy nodded her understanding, and couldn't help feeling a bit excited as more details unfolded. “So she had a brother she was lookin’ fer?” she asked optimistically. “Bladire was lookin’ fer his sister when I met him. In fact, I named mah daughter after his sister. Ya think it’s the same zebra?”
Crab Apple shrugged as he thought about it. “Could be,” he replied. “Dat name you keep sayin' sounds familiar, but I could never remember how ta pronounce her brudder’s name. It started with a B, and dats all I ever got right. She’d tease me all da time about it. Man, she’d laugh and laugh, and she had da prettiest laugh you ever heard.”
For the first time since starting the tale, Crab Apple smiled nostalgically. “Them early days was great,” he explained. “We met all kinda ponies on da streets. We met runaway slaves and ponies who thought just like us. Dat's how we formed a gang of our own. Me and Kizzy ended up da ring leaders, and it didn't take long for us to become a serious item. We were even gonna have a baby, and we didn't see dat one comin'! But what do you expect from a couple a wreckless teenagers. Smarts over hormones? Fogetta ‘bout it! Anyway, her and me kept talkin’ about goin’ back ta Zebrica where she came from and makin’ a life for ourselves, just like a married couple is supposed ta do."
A smirk crept across Crab Apple's face as he spoke. "She came up with da idea on how we were gonna go home," he explained, a tone of regret creeping into his voice. "We were gonna hijack a slave ship like a bunch a pirates and sail it home. We still use dat idea today for gettin’ runaways outta Equestria, but we never woulda guessed our first try was gonna end so badly.”
A tear trickled down Crab Apple’s cheek as he talked about his lost love. “We hijacked dis one boat comin’ in at night ta sail back ta Zebrica, only we weren’t alone," he explained. "Da Faction was nearby and didn’t want their inventory stolen, so they attacked us while we were tryin’ ta sail away. Kizzy tried ta fight back, but with da baby in her belly she just wasn’t fast enough. They killed her on dat ship.”
Smithy was shocked to hear that Bladire’s sister had been killed. “I’m so sorry fer yer loss,” she said, remembering how painful it was to lose Bladire after her daughter was born.
Crab Apple tried to smile for Smithy’s sake. “Fogetta ‘bout it,” he said. “She went out doin’ what she knew was right. Not everypony has dat luxury.”
Crab Apple wiped frustratedly at the tears he had fought to keep back. “She was a proud gal, my Kizzy,” he said with a shaky breath. “After I found Kizzy dead, I just jumped over da side of da ship. I was gonna end it all, you know? Felt like I couldn't live without her, but Salty Ron jumped in after me and threw me on a lifeboat. He told me I needed ta keep up da work we started for Kizzy, or she'd be gone for good. Her spirit was in everythin' we put inta motion dat night, and he said dat he wasn’t gonna give up on dat cause if I didn’t."
Crab Apple was couldn't fight with his emotions any longer. He blew his nose out of frustration as he ended his story. "We sailed dat lifeboat back ta Equestria, lettin’ da rest of da run away slaves steer dat ship home," he explained, taking a deep breath to steady his nerves. "Salty Ron insisted on stayin’ with me ta da bitter end. He’s just as dedicated ta me as Kizzy was, and keeps tellin’ me I can’t do it alone. I really couldn’t ask for a better friend, you know?”
Crab Apple had to take a few more deep breaths to calm his nerves. He was afraid to look Smithy in the eye for fear of losing his composure. “After dat, me and Salty Ron dedicated our lives ta trafficin’ slaves outta Equestria,” he continued. “Usin’ Kizzy’s idea, we been hijackin’ boats and lettin’ runaway slaves sail back home. It ain't always successful, but we sure give it our all every time we go out there. Salty Ron's stuck with me da whole time because we both believed in what we were doin’, and we never forgot how much we both cared for Kizzy. Honestly, dis whole ordeal brought us closer togetha as friends. He’s like a brudder ta me! Dat’s why we call ourselves da Brudderhood a Steeds.”
Smithy was impressed by how Crab Apple was able to turn something so tragic into something to help benefit society. “So that’s why y’all don’t get along with the Faction of the Stud,” she said. “They killed yer woman, and on top of that they’re all fer trafficin’ slaves in while y’all traffic slaves out.”
Crab Apple was glad that Smithy understood why his gang had such a strong rivalry with her late husband. “Exactly!” he replied optimistically. “Ta tell you da truth, da only reason I agreed ta kill your husband is because he was a king pin for da Faction. He took over after my dad died, and my old man used ta be da old king pin. His bunch was da ones who killed Kizzy. Him and me both had chips on our shoulders about each other after dat. Just knowin’ I could use his property ta hide runaway slaves on their way ta freedom was too perfect ta pass up. I can also make some money ta buy slaves who can’t run away on their own and help ‘em outta Equestria. Granted, these methods of trafficin’ out slaves ain’t perfect, but until da laws change it’s da best we got.”
Smithy remembered the day she met Princess Celestia, and often thought why such a lovely monarch would allow slavery to exist in her kingdom. “I wish the princess would do somethin’ ‘bout that there law,” she said. “How could she let her own subjects do somethin’ like this to innocent zebras?”
Crab Apple shrugged his shoulders, often wondering the same thing himself. “Politics and economics are da root of it all,” he answered, shaking his head as he thought about it. “Slavery didn’t start up ‘til around da time Cloudsdale went on strike. You remember when dat happened?”
Smithy nodded her head as she listened to Crab Apple’s reasoning. “I sure do,” she replied. “That’s when we got the farm after daddy was arrested. ‘Course we got the farm in exchange fer the princess payin’ off mah daddy’s debts since his seed business went belly up.”
Happy to see that Smithy was following along, Crab Apple continued his explanation. “Lotta folks went belly up ‘cause a dat strike,” he said. “Equestria was fallin’ on hard times when dat drought happened, so da timing on da Cloudsdale strike just made everythin’ worse. Ta top it off, we weren’t all dat friendly with da Griffon Kingdom at da time. They were lookin’ ta cut off trade routes with us since we were gettin’ weaker, and Equestria needed da money we got from exports. Equestria owed da Griffon Kingdom a lotta bits dat we couldn’t pay back. Da Griffin King got real mad at Princess Celestia for all dis, and da griffons were thinkin’ about declairin’ war on us.”
Smithy had no idea that all of this had happened, especially since at that point in her life she was more concerned about her family’s welfare. “So what happened next?” she asked, nearly on the edge of her seat with interest.
Crab Apple cleared his throat before continuing. “Da powers behind da throne knew they needed help ta get Equestria through dis,” he explained. “So dis up and comin’ politician named Carpet Bag noticed da griffons usin’ slaves, and he thought up dis crazy idea. He arranged an agreement with some high up slave merchants ta borrow some salves ta build irrigation ditches in fancier cities, using da money from those well off cities ta help pay some a da debt Equestria owed da Griffon Kingdom. His original idea was ta get irrigation goin’ so da manufacturin’ a goods could continue, which would help pump money inta da economy dat he could tax, and then use dat tax money ta pay da debts ta da griffons. Da plan worked, and Cloudsdale noticed dat with da slaves around they weren’t gonna win their strike. In da end, they gave up da strike ta save their jobs, which was a load off da princess’s economic plate. With da strike over, Equestria started ta profit again and everythin’ went back ta normal. Da Griffon Kingdom was finally paid in full, they were happy with us again, and trade routes stayed open.”
While Smithy was glad to see that war had been avoided, she still realized that there was an unaddressed issue. “So we really didn’t need slaves anymore,” she commented. “If we don’t need slaves anymore, than why didn’t Princess Celestia just let ‘em all go?”
Crab Apple knew that Smithy was right, but he also knew pony nature. “You’d think, right?” he said. “Problem was, da Equestrians started gettin’ spoiled with da forced labor. So dat’s where da politics really comes inta play. Da power behind da throne knows dat in order ta keep their constitutes happy and backing ‘em for reelection, they have ta phrase things just right. Senator Carpet Bag coined da phrase ‘migrant worker’ ta make it sound like da zebras wanted ta be here for work, and dat they were here legally. He’s kept da whole thing under wraps for years, and da media loves dis guy. With dat kinda reputation, da princess is bound ta trust him, even sign law papers without really readin’ ‘em due ta her busy schedule. Da man’s got Equestria eatin’ outta his hoof.”
The reality of what as going on in Canterlot made Smithy sick. She remembered seeing him speak as a filly, and read about him several times in the newspaper, and he was always presented in the best light. How could the press do such a thing? “Somepony’s gotta stop him!” she exclaimed.
While Crab Apple agreed, he also knew from experience that it wasn’t that easy. “Da Brudderhood’s been tryin’ ta expose him for years,” he explained. “Da media likes makin’ anypony who apposes Carpet Bag look like a bad guy, so we’re cornered. Da only way we can undermine him is with traffickin' slaves out. We call da operation da Underground Junction, and with your help, dis farm can become a perfect hub for runaway slaves.”
As the two ponies spoke more about the Underground Junction, the sun began to peek over horizon. Smithy was the first to notice a ray of sunlight streaking through the dirty bunkhouse. “Oh stars!” she cursed. “We’ve been up all night!”
Crab Apple smiled as he watched Smithy fret about the time. “Fogetta ‘bout it,” he said, setting a calming hoof on hers. “If I gotta be honest, I feel kinda refreshed after gettin’ all dis off my chest. I know where we stand now, and dat makes up for it. Besides, it’s light enough outside ta get back safely ta a house with a shower and a real bed.”
Smithy blushed at the compliment. It had been years since she had told anypony anything about her past, and letting it out really was refreshing.
Before they left, they shook on an agreement that anything they said to one another would not leave the bunkhouse. Not even Smithy’s secret maternity with Kizzy. While Crab Apple knew it wasn’t easy on Smithy, he knew that revealing her lineage would be too much of a taboo. “Ponies are fickle,” he explained as they walked out into the much needed fresh air. “Bein’ discrete is da only way we’ll be able ta make dis work. Her freedom and da freedom of da other zebras is at stake here.”
Smithy hated having to agree on it, wondering if she’d ever get a chance to be honest with her daughter. “I understand,” she replied. “Now we better head back and make sure she ain’t set the bees on anypony.”
The walk home took longer than the walk out due to Crab Apple still needing to lean on Smithy. It was, however, a far more pleasant walk since they had something to talk about. Now with a mutual understanding for the use of Sweet Apple Acres as a safe haven for runaway slaves, the talk of construction projects for the slaves to use for shelter took up the majority of the conversation home. They even discussed tearing down the worn out old bunkhouse, and they laughed and joked about how they planned to do it.
They were greeted at the door by Kizzy, who had spent the night on the porch swing waiting for them to come home. “Misses! Mr. Crab Apple!” she exclaimed as she ran to them. “I worried for you! You were gone so long. And look, while you were away, I got my cutie mark. It is a bee!”
Kizzy displayed the tribal depiction of a bee on her flank with pride, and Smithy couldn’t have been prouder. “Would ya look at that!” Smithy declared, hugging the little zebra without caring what anyone else thought. “Mah lil’ honey bee. I’m so proud of ya.”
The commotion outside had stirred every sleeping pony and zebra on the property, and soon the yard was filled. Sunflower rushed up to Smithy and Crab Apple, paying most of her attention to Crab Apple. “You’re hurt!” she exclaimed, holding tenderly onto his bandaged limb. “You poor dear! You come right inside so we can clean you up. I’ll call for a doctor to have a look at this so it doesn’t get worse. Lizza, get a shower started, and Tess, be a dear and get some fresh clothes for him, and get these two something to eat for heavens sake! Amos and Homer, start a fire in the fireplace. Salty Ron, you and Kizzy make the bed and get a few fresh blankets out of the hope chest while I call for a doctor. And kids, play outside today so Mr. Crab Apple can get some rest. Oh, and Smithy, can we talk a bit dear?”
Smithy did not like the way Sunflower acted as if she was in charge of running the house. She seemed far too comfortable ordering the slaves around.
Before she could say anything, Sunflower had brought Smithy away from the house. "Just what were you two up to last night?” she asked like a worried mother. “I was up all night pacing the floor and worried sick about the two of you! At first I thought there was some hanky panky going on, which I might add I do not approve of since you are a widow to a good man, but to see you both coming home looking like this! I mean, the man is in bandages for heavens sake!”
Smithy held out her hoofs to slow her sister-in-law down. “He needed to check out some land in the west fields,” she explained, rather annoyed by how accusatory Sunflower was being. “We got attacked by timberwolves while we were out there, so we had to stay overnight in the old bunkhouse 'til it was safe to come home. That’s why we’re late, dirty, and why Crab Apple got hurt.”
The explanation only served to bother Sunflower more. “Timberwolves!” she gasped. “Oh, you poor dear! You’re not hurt too, are you?”
Smithy shook her head at her sister-in-law’s concern. “I’m fine,” she replied. “I’m just a lil’ tired and could use some rest.”
Relieved to know that her sister-in-law was unharmed, Sunflower breathed a sigh of gratitude. “Thank goodness,” she said with a smile. “Now you’re sure there was no hanky panky going on? You wouldn’t lie to me, would you?”
Smithy’s cheeks burned red at the question. “No!” she declared uncomfortably. “That’s just unladylike, and I ain’t lookin’ fer lovin’ anyhow. Why ya askin’ such a rude question?”
Sunflower took a turn to blush as she let out a romantic sounding sigh. “Because I like him,” she admitted, much to Smithy’s surprise. “Don’t get me wrong, I miss Happy Trails like crazy, but you have to admit, Crab Apple is awfully cute. And he’s good with kids. He’s kind of a catch, don’t you agree?”
Big Macintosh could not believe the nerve of his great aunt. “Nope. That ain’t right,” he said in disbelief. “Y’all lost yer husbands at the same time. Why’d she think she could go after Granddad while ya sat back and didn’t?”
Granny Smith chuckled as she thought back on it. “She was use to gettin’ what she wanted,” she explained. “Besides, she wanted a place of her own again, somepony to look after her kids, and a few slaves caterin’ to her. She rationalized all this by tellin’ me she’d be outta mah hair after she got married to Crab Apple. ‘Course this sounded mighty fine since I missed mah mama and son, but I had to admit I started feelin’ a lil’ jealous. After that talk in the bunkhouse, me and Crab Apple were startin’ to become real friends, and I had to admit to mahself how nice it was to have somepony to talk to…”
With the agreement settled in the bunkhouse, Crab Apple no longer had a need to blackmail Smithy with going to the police. The police hadn't been sniffing around Sweet Apple Acres in weeks about Stinking Rich's death, chalking it up to gang violence instead of a planned murder attempt. This was a huge burden lifted off both of their shoulders, but they knew they still had to be careful with Sunflower and her children around.
Sunflower was a force to be reckoned with, and over the next month she had all but taken over Sweet Apple Acres. The only thing keeping her from being the owner was the deed on the land, which Smithy kept hold of due to Stinking Rich’s will. Sunflower knew not to contend with that due to how good Stinking Rich had been to her family, and while Smithy knew this to be a show on his part, she did appreciate the effect he had left with her brother’s family. This was the only upper hoof that she had left at this point.
Crab Apple noticed Sunflower’s thirst for power too, and was slightly put off by it. He’d noticed how flirtatious she had become too, and it felt uncomfortable accepting gifts and favors from a woman who retrieved those gifts and favors by using slave labor. He did his best to be polite to keep peace, but he was eager to see an end to it.
The bunkhouse had been torn down as planned a few weeks after Smithy and Crab Apple’s talk. They decided to built a huge bonfire with the old wood, allowing the slaves to enjoy themselves before constructing a new windmill. Smithy figured that a windmill would look less conspicuous than a bunkhouse, making for a better place for runaway slaves to hide. Crab Apple added the idea of a basement for storage, giving the runaways an extra place to hide in case of emergencies. They kept the intention of the building secret from Sunflower, who would have hated the idea of losing slaves.
Sunflower sat under the shade of a tree to watch the slaves raise the new windmill, sipping on a glass of lemonade while her children played nearby. She couldn’t understand why Smithy and Crab Apple insisted on helping with the construction, but she had to admit to herself how much she liked watching Crab Apple work. He was a strong man, and the sweat from working was making his clothes stick to all the right places.
Her staring was cut short when Tess brought her an envelope. “A message for you, miss," she said with a low, respectful bow.
Sunflower quickly dismissed the slave, annoyed by having her man watching interrupted. She quickly scanned the letter inside, her annoyance turning to elation as soon as she realized what it had to say. “Father wants me back in Canterlot!" she exclaimed to herself, smiling from ear to ear. “I must tell Smithy the good news. She'll be thrilled for me!"
Sunflower was about to call over her former sister-in-law when she caught sight of Crab Apple wiping sweat from his brow with a handkerchief. “Smithy can wait," she said to herself with a hungry smile. “I could use a man like Mr. Crab Apple a lot more than she does."
Taking a nice, soothing breath, Sunflower called out to the man she intended to catch. “You who!” she waved flirtatiously. “Want a break, Crab Apple? This lemonade is just heavenly!”
The last thing on Crab Apple’s mind was taking a break, but one look from Smithy changed that thought. He knew he had to keep up appearances if he wanted the farm to be used the way that he wanted. “Sure, why not,” he said as he put on a gentlemanly show. “Dat lemonade looks good, and it’s hot as Tartarus out here.”
Sunflower beamed at the attention as she watched Crab Apple guzzle down his tall glass of lemonade. “Tess makes a good cool drink, don’t you agree?” she said as she refilled Crab Apple’s glass. “I just don’t know what I would do without her or the rest of the zigglers. I am so blessed to have them here to help me get over the death of my husband, may the stars rest his soul. Of course, Smithy is a tremendous comfort, don't you agree?”
Crab Apple noticed the starry-eyed look on Sunflower’s face, and distracted himself with another sip of lemonade. “Yeah,” he said as he they both looked at Smithy helping a slave secure a beam. “She’s quite a gal, ain’t she? I better go help her with dat beam. She’s outta shape as it is. I bet she could use dis break more than me.”
Sunflower reached out for Crab Apple’s hoof to keep him where he was. “Hang on,” she said in a sing song tone. “I didn’t tell you my good news yet. I got a letter from my father in Canterlot. He finally got back to me about moving back home. He bought a house for my children and I so that we can finally have a place of our own, but it sounds so big! I’ll need the help of a big, strong stallion like you to help me get settled in.”
Crab Apple gulped back his anxieties as he watched Sunflower bat her eyelashes at him. “Ah, gee,” he said as he rubbed the back of his head. “Dat’s quite an offer, but I think Smiddy needs more help with dis windmill. You got help you can get on your own, right? I mean, great gal like yourself, lotta guys'd fall inta dat gaze you got there.”
Sunflower was quick to dismiss Crab Apple’s worries. “Oh, pish posh,” she mused. “Smithy’s as capable as anypony I know, and she has more than enough zigglers to compensate for your absence. I’m sure she wouldn’t mind if I borrowed you for a few days or more. You can ask her yourself if it worries you so much.”
Sunflower waved her sister-in-law down before Crab Apple had a moment to protest. “Smithy dear!” she called out. “Could you put down your work for a moment? We have some exciting news to tell you!”
Noticing her sister-in-law’s request, Smithy politely dismissed herself from the construction project. “What’s gotcha all excited?” she asked cordially as she wiped sweat from her brow.
Sunflower could barely contain herself as she poured her sister-in-law a glass of lemonade. “Father has bought me a house in Canterlot!” she exclaimed as she handed Smithy a glass. “I shall need to be ready by tomorrow. He intends to come pick my family and I up by taxi, and he is sending carts for everything else. The only problem is that I need some help moving into my new home, what with the kids rushing around and all. Your Mr. Crab Apple here has offered his aid, but I fear for the construction of your windmill. Would you be capable of building it in his absence?”
Smithy lowered her glass at the mention of Crab Apple leaving. She noticed him blushing at being mentioned. “Well, I guess it’s alright,” she said more to him than to her sister-in-law.
Crab Apple blushed even harder, finding it difficult to make eye contact with Smithy. “Ah, I dunno,” he said as he scraped his hoof along the ground. “I don’t wanna cause a fuss, especially since you got all dat buildin’ ta do.”
Smithy could see a pleading look in Sunflower’s eyes, one that suggested she really wanted Crab Apple to join her. Smithy sighed as she tried to smile. “I can handle it,” she said, seeing her sister-in-law make a gleeful gesture. “We got all the blueprints in order, so it should be almost built by the time Crab Apple gets back. I got a good team of zebras to help me out.”
Sunflower giggled as she made eyes at Crab Apple. “If he comes back you mean!” she said with a suggestive wink. “Canterlot is the most romantic city in all of Equestria after all, and after hearing its siren song he may well decide to stay put.”
Smithy’s cheeks were just as red as Crab Apple’s, but for entirely different reasons. She had been looking forward to making more plans with Crab Apple for the Underground Junction as soon as Sunflower was off of her farm, and now she was risking losing him to the very pony who had already kept these plans on hold. She could not believe it, but she was actually feeling jealous. “Mah gracious!” she said, giving Crab Apple a look of disappointment. “I had no idea y’all were an item! I’d give ya mah blessin’s but clearly that won’t be necessary. Clearly y’all are slaves to each other’s affections.”
The word ‘slave’ hit Crab Apple hard. “Hey! Wait just a minute…” he began, only to be cut off by Sunflower snuggling against his sweaty chest.
Sunflower was resting a little too long and a little too comfortably against Crab Apple, which seemed to disturb him just as much as it disturbed Smithy. “Isn’t he the best!” Sunflower insisted. “Oh, we’ve got so much planning to do! I have to get all the laundry together, and get everything out of storage, and what am I forgetting? We should go back to the house, don’t you think?”
Smithy nodded her head before Crab Apple could get in a word edgewise. “By all means,” she interjected. “Heck, let’s all go. The windmill ain’t important or anythin’. Why I bet yer gonna miss havin’ zebras 'round fer all yer dirty work anyhow. May as well enjoy ‘em while ya got ‘em!”
Sunflower’s eyes lit up at the mention of slaves, and she clapped her hooves before Crab Apple could even speak. “You’re right, dear!” she exclaimed. “We will be needing zebras! All the more reason for Crab Apple to stay with me in Canterlot. Oh Smithy, you are too good. I don’t know how I would plan this without you. Don’t you agree, Crab Apple dear?”
In spite of finally being given a chance to speak, Crab Apple felt he had nothing to say. “Ah, sure,” he mumbled, failing to see any sign of camaraderie in Smithy’s expression.
They had spent the night packing in silence, save for the small talk brought on by Sunflower’s continuous chatting. She was bounding around like an excited filly on her first trip, saying whatever was on her mind.
Smithy and Crab Apple barely looked at each other, and Smithy was eager not try not to get in his way. She felt that distancing herself would help make his departure easier. As for the Underground Junction, she was trying to prepare herself to do it alone. She was relieved to hear her kitchen timer going off, giving her an excuse to get out of the room and retrieve some muffins she had baking for her sister-in-law’s trip.
It was well past midnight when the last bags were packed, and by then everypony was exhausted and ready to go to bed. Sunflower yawned dramatically as she leaned against Crab Apple. “What a chore!” she exclaimed. “I just don’t know how I would have done it all without your help. How can I repay you for everything you’ve done for me?”
Crab Apple blushed as she looked into his eyes. “Fogetta ‘bout it,” he replied as he backed into a large trunk.
Sunflower giggled as he looked behind him to see what he’d run into. “You are just too modest,” she said in a sultry voice. “If there is anything I can do to repay you, and I mean anything, than don’t hesitate to ask. I’m all yours.”
A thump was heard from behind Crab Apple which made him jump. He was expecting to see Smithy, but instead saw Sunflower’s son, Dandelion. “Mom,” her son said as he rubbed his tired little eyes. “I had a bad dream. Can I sleep with you tonight?”
Sunflower rolled her eyes as she went to her son, disappointed that the moment had been ruined. “Dandelion, sweetie, go back to bed,” she said as motherly as she could. “Mommy’s got grown up plans for tonight.”
Crab Apple was relieved to see the colt standing there, clutching onto his teddy bear. He tussled Dandelion’s hair affectionately as he walked out into the hallway. “Hey buddy, why don’t da two a you sort dis out,” he said. “I need ta stretch my legs anyway. I’ll catch up with you later, Sunflower. Okay?”
Sunflower pouted as he began to walk down the hall. “You promise?” she almost begged.
Crab Apple stopped to look over his shoulder at the rather pathetic display. “Yeah, sure,” he said quickly before walking down the steps. From behind him he could hear Sunflower shouting, “I’ll be in my room. I’ll wait up for you!”
Apple Bloom leaned in as she listened to the story. “Did he end up goin’ back to Auntie Sunflower?” she asked.
Granny Smithy smiled as she shook her head. “Nope,” she replied. “He walked right on past me on his way out the front door without sayin’ a word, and he didn’t come back ‘til dawn. I didn’t understand why at first, but a couple days after they left fer Canterlot, I found out why.”
Granny Smith turned to a page in the scrapbook with a letter penned by Crab Apple. “I found this here note on mah desk in mah bedroom a couple days later. Here, take a look fer yerselves.”
Granny Smithy held out the note for her grandchildren to each take a turn reading. It read the following:
Dear Smithy,
I know you’re upset about this whole thing with Sunflower, but do me a favor and don’t be. She’s got the mentality of a slave owner, and I would hope by now you’d understand how unattractive I find that kind of thing. Seriously, my best friend is a runaway slave, and so was the woman I loved. I’d be the biggest hypocrite in Equestria to turn my back on them in exchange for a little hanky panky with a spoiled elitist like her. Don’t tell her I said that, but she really is a spoiled elitist. I call them as I see them.
To show you no hard feelings, please accept this gift enclosed in the envelope. I found it last night on my walk. You left it around your lover’s memorial stick on the night we ran away from the timberwolves and it was still there. No offense, but I'm not even going to attempt spelling his name. Bad memory, remember? And apparently, I'm not so good at pronouncing names. I'm still working on pronouncing yours correctly.
I replaced the braided Zebrican chain on it with a silver one for two reasons. One, it was broken, and two, it got really moldy. The stone’s still there, but now it’s on something that won’t break as easily. I hope that’s okay with you.
By the way, don’t tell Sunflower I took her silver chain. She’s got plenty of jewelry, so I don’t think she’ll miss one simple silver chain. Still, I get the feeling she won’t like hearing this, so let’s keep it our little secret.
While Salty Ron and I are in Canterlot, we plan to stay in a hotel. The good news is that we have a connection in Canterlot that we want to make communication with while we’re there, so it won’t be a completely wasted trip. Besides, a free ride to Canterlot in exchange for being moving men is a win-win.
Please keep up the construction on the windmill while I’m gone. It’s a great idea and I can’t tell you how much it means to me to have you on my side in the Underground Junction. I should be back in about a week, so be ready for an inspection. I know you know what you’re doing, but I like making sure everything is in order. I’m picky that way.
Yours truly, Crab Apple
P.S. Salty Ron says to say hello to Lizza for him. If you ask me, I think he’s getting kind of sweet on her. He also says to take care of the pecan trees while he’s gone. He's picky that way too.
Smithy set the letter down with tears of relief pouring down her cheeks. All their planning, that talk in the bunkhouse, all the friendship they had shared, and all the hopes she felt for the slaves, all of it was not wasted after all. The best part of it all was seeing the onyx stone dangling from the thin silver chain and knowing that she could once again put it around her neck. She felt like a missing piece of herself was coming back to her as she fastened it around her neck. She could almost feel Bladire’s presence in the room as she touched the smooth stone.
The moment was cut short by a knock at the door. Smithy wiped her eyes on the back of her hoof as she turned around to see Crab Apple smiling at her. “Catch you at a bad time?” he asked, holding out a handkerchief to help with her crying.
Smithy was happy to accept the handkerchief and eagerly blew her nose. “Sorry fer all the dramatics,” she breathed. “I just found yer letter. Thank ya fer fixin’ mah necklace. This means so much.”
Crab Apple was glad to see that his gift was well received. “Fogetta ‘bout it,” he smiled humbly. “I’m just glad them tears are for somethin’ good instead of another meltdown. You wouldn’t believe da meltdown your sister-in-law had when I told her I just wasn’t inta her. We hightailed it outta Canterlot without even makin’ our contact! She went dat nuts!”
Smithy chuckled as she imagined how bad it could have been. “So that’s why yer back so early,” she snortled. “Here yer letter said ya’d be back in a week.”
The mention of a letter reminded Crab Apple that he was carrying Smithy’s mail. “Oh, I got all dis outta da mailbox on my way in,” he said as he handed her a stack of envelopes.
Smithy flipped though the short stack quickly, stopping suddenly on a letter from Dodge City. “It’s from mah family,” she said almost in shock. She hadn’t heard word from them since she left them in Dodge City for fear of Crab Apple’s gang. She quickly opened the envelope and read what it said:
Dear Smithy,
Your son and I are worried about you. We miss our home, and quite frankly I don’t know what’s going on anymore. Filthy Rich wakes up at night with nightmares about a bad pony killing his father, and he says the bad pony is coming after him. Is there something you’re not telling me?
The police have been useless in this whole mess. They've kept questioning Filthy Rich, who just keeps breaking down and crying over the whole mess. I don't think they have many leads to go off of, and every time I approach them about it they tell me they're working on it. I think they're lying just to shut me up at this point, but I won't shut up! I'll get to the bottom of this, even if I have to go to Princess Celestia herself!
Filthy Rich started a school here in Dodge City. He is doing well and has made some friends. They set up a lemonade stand in front of Grossly Rich’s general store a few days ago, and it was so cute! I wish you could have seen it. I took pictures of the whole thing. He even earned his cutie mark doing it! I took pictures of them selling lemonade, and let me tell you, he is a natural born salespony. I’ve never seen him looking happier, though he’d be happier selling lemonade at home.
Write back soon! We miss you! We’re staying with Fairly Rich and his wife, Velvet, in their guest room.
XOXO Sew n’ Sow
A second letter was behind it from her son that read:
Dear Mama,
I HATE IT HERE! I want to come home! I miss you, and I miss my friends. Is the bad pony gone?
Love, Filthy Rich
On the back of her son’s letter was a drawing of Sweet Apple Acres with her, her late husband, her mother, and her son all standing in front of the barn with big crayon smiles. She could tell that her son was still grieving, and it refreshed the guilt she felt knowing that she was to blame for it. “What am I gonna do with that boy?” she said softly while burying her eyes in the handkerchief.
Crab Apple lowered his gaze, knowing that part of that blame was his for how everything went down the night he did his job. “You miss ‘em, don’t you?” he said softly, looking up to see Smithy nodding. “I guess your boy won’t like seein’ me here. Maybe I should go.”
Before Smithy could think properly, she grabbed Crab Apple's shoulder. “No!” she exclaimed before she could reel in how she felt. “I mean… I need ya here to help with the Underground Junction. Heaven knows mah mama and son are only gonna try puttin’ a stop to that.”
Crab Apple was surprised to hear this. “You sure?” he asked. “I mean, your sister-in-law may be crazy, but she was right in sayin’ how capable you are.”
Smithy blushed demurely at the compliment, but decided to brush it aside for more important things. “Heaven knows I miss mah family, but they got the same thoughts Sunflower has 'bout zebra slavery. T'ain’t right, and fer the first time in mah life, I wanna stand up and do somethin’ 'bout it. I want Filthy Rich to understand why I feel this way, and I want him growin’ up a good boy instead of a slave rustler. I gotta do it fer him, and I gotta do it fer me, even if it does hurt.”
Crab Apple couldn’t help feeling proud of Smithy. “Dat’s a big sacrifice,” he said as he stood beside her.
Smithy let out a big sigh as she felt Crab Apple rub her shoulders to comfort her. “I know,” she said as she wiped her eyes again. “But if I don’t do it, I’ll be lettin’ the Faction of the Stud win again. That’s the last thing I want. I can’t go back to that anymore.”
A fresh flood of tears came to Smithy’s eyes as she thought about what her life had been like for almost a decade. “I know ya do a fine job trafficin’ slaves outta Equestria, but I feel like there’s more I need to do,” she cried. “I swear, as Celestia as mah witness, I am gonna get that princess to see the error of her ways. Even if it means I lose everythin’, I’ll go to the gallows knowin’ I did everythin’ I could fer mah kin.” She remembered the day that her Grammy Gillyflower said the same thing before her family fled from Dodge City, and she was starting to understand what such a hard decision felt like.
Crab Apple threw an arm around the brave pony’s shoulders. “You ain’t alone,” he said as he gently rocked her. “You gotta bunch a friends here ta back you up.”
Smithy blushed as she turned to face Crab Apple. He was so close that she was afraid he could feel how fast her heart was beating. “Alright then,” she said as confidently as she could as she got up from her chair. “Don’t just stand there with yer head hangin’. We got plannin’ to do! Now where’s that notebook ya always got on ya?”
Granny Smith turned to several pages with newspaper clippings containing articles about ‘The Granny and Granddad of Misdeed.’ “We spent the next five years in and outta Ponyville,” she explained as she looked at a photo of the two of them in an article. “Some reporter coined the names after mah given name, and next thing we know we were public enemies.”
Apple Bloom gasped as she glanced at a political cartoon of them looking like elderly ponies bucking a statue of the famed politician, Carpet Bag. “But ya weren’t bad ponies, were ya?” she fretted.
Granny Smith chuckled over her granddaughter’s misplaced anxiety. “We were more hooligans than we were crooks,” she explained. “’Course the media had a field day with us, and folks couldn’t get enough articles 'bout their favorite bad ponies! Some newspapers compared us to Robin Hoof, while most of ‘em called us good fer nothin’ trouble makers. The important thing is, our message was startin’ to get out there…”
Smithy and Crab Apple had fallen asleep on a park bench after they and the Brotherhood of Steeds had another successful slave ship raid. By working as a team, they were able to send another group of run away slaves on their way home with a ship full of would be slaves freed from the bowels of the slave ship. Better yet, they had avoided being caught or photographed thanks to new redocking plans in Manehatten. With nowhere else to turn and exhaustion winning them over, they had curled up together for warmth against the coolness of late winter’s night in Crab Apple’s oversized trench coat while the rest of the Brotherhood of Steeds found places to sleep in the park.
They hadn’t realized how late they had slept until they heard the whine of a camera flash. Crab Apple shot strait up, grabbing at the ache in his neck as he took in his surroundings. “What’s goin’ on here!” he shouted as Smithy rubbed her awakening eyes.
The pegasus photographer took another shot of them, which only served to further aggravate Crab Apple. “Beggin’ your pardon,” the Manehatten native said politely. “You two looked kinda sweet all curled up togetha. I thought it’d be a good piece for Hearts and Hooves Day comin’ up. Da Hoofington Post is gonna love dis! By da way, name’s Focus with da Hoofington Post. Here’s my card.”
The last thing Crab Apple wanted was more off beat press. “Get outta here!” he demanded as he got up to take a swing at the photographer. “And take your Hearts and Hooves Day nonsense with you!”
Focus flew away as quickly as he arrived, dropping his card as he took to the skies. This easy escape only aggravated Crab Apple more. “Da nerve a dat guy!” he said as he massaged the crick in his neck. “What does he think we are? A couple a love boyds?”
Smithy yawned loudly at the commotion. “Is that all he wants?” she asked. “Count yer blessings. It coulda been the police. Besides, the Hoofington Post thinks we’re some sorta mad couple out fer justice. They’re on our side, so may as well let ‘em have their fun.”
Crab Apple rolled his eyes at the notion. “We’re partners, remember?” he said, still cranky from being woken up so rudely. “Ain’t got nothin’ ta do with romance, not dat they know how ta fact check. Do you, feather brained shutterbug?!? I know you can hear me up there! It's called fact checking!”
Smithy knew this to be true, but sometimes she couldn’t help feeling a little bit lonely. She always squashed the idea, realizing that romance would only serve to complicate things. Their mutual friendship was more beneficial to her cause for slave freeing than a romance would ever be, and in a way she was glad he felt that way too.
Crab Apple complained loudly as he popped his neck. “I knew we shoulda slept on da ground!” he griped as he grabbed the pains in his neck. “I feel like a pretzel. Man, dis hurts.”
Smithy rolled her eyes at the pathetic display. Men could be such babies about pain. “Sit here on the ground in front of me,” she suggested. “Lemme see if I can’t rub that pain out yer neck.”
Doing as he was instructed, Crab Apple sat on the ground in front of the bench while Smithy went to work on his pains. “Ow! Gentle!” he complained.
Smithy tried her best to go easier on his neck. “Sorry,” she replied as she rubbed circles around the pain.
Crab Apple let out a sigh of relief at the soothing sensation. “Dat’s better,” he smiled. “Not as good as one a them Neighpanese girls, but not bad.”
Smithy tapped Crab Apple teasingly in the head at the comment, which made him laugh. “Focus, Casanova,” she teased. “Lemme do what I can.”
Crab Apple laughed at the silly comment. “What?” he replied, turning to see a sarcastic grin on Smithy’s face. “They got them dainty little hooves is all I’m sayin’. One a ‘em can walk all over your back and make you feel like a million bits. I bet if you did dat I’d be crushed like a bug.”
Smithy tried to suppress her laughter as Crab Apple slanted his eye and bucked out his teeth in an attempt to imitate a Neighpanese pony. “Ah, I solly, missa Smiddy,” he said, putting his hooves together to pretend to bow. “I woulda bow, but my necka so hurt. You wanna rucky number? Da cookie so dericious.”
By now Smithy was laughing so hard that her sides were starting to get sore. “That ain’t right!” she said, snorting out her laughter as she hugged her aching sides. “Somepony’s gonna see ya doin’ that and get all kinda mad at ya!”
The playful bickering ended as soon as they saw Kizzy walking up to them. “Are we leaving now?” she whined sleepily. “I am hungry, and cold. Miss Lizza and Salty Ron have gone off and I am alone.”
Smithy cooed her condolences as she wrapped Kizzy in the oversize trench coat. “I’m surprised that photographer didn’t go after them fer his Hearts and Hooves Day thing,” she joked. “Yer right though. We should all get up.”
Smithy raised a hoof to her mouth to make a loud whistle as she shouted out to the gang. “Up and at ‘em everypony! Time to skedaddle before more news ponies come trottin’ in!”
Smithy watched the rest of the gang stagger to their feet like a pack of zombie ponies. Clearly they hadn’t had a good night’s rest. She did a quick head count as they gathered around her. “Now listen here,” she said to the tired crowd. “We did a real fine job last night, but we got a lot more work 'head of us. We can take a good hard rest after we get to Canterlot and collect the latest news. After that, we can bunk in our usual hotel where we can get some chow. I bet a shower and a real bed sounds nice right 'bout now, don’t it?” Smithy looked over the crowd of nodding heads followed by a chorus of rumbling bellies.
As she lead the way out of the park, she could feel something under her hoof. Looking down, she noticed the business card that the photographer had dropped. Picking it up, she read it more closely. ‘Focus, Photographer and Writer fer the Hoofington Post,’ she read to herself before putting the card in her saddlebag. ‘Never know if that might come in handy.’
The Brotherhood of Steeds reached Canterlot by nightfall. Having found their regular hotel that was loyal to the Brotherhood, each member was eager to check into their rooms. The hotel manager was a zebra slave who had partnered with a pony who as glad to be used as a front man. The zebra had the money management skills that kept the hotel afloat, while the slave owner had the customer service skills needed to keep things reputable with hotel patrons. The two were good friends and appreciated what the Brotherhood of Steeds did to support their business plan. Because of this, Smithy and Crab Apple were always treated to a nice suite each time they checked in, complete with separate rooms, a Jacuzzi tub, and the best balcony view in the hotel.
The first thing Kizzy wanted to do as soon as they got to their room was jump in the Jacuzzi tub. “Bubbles!” she shouted as she turned the water on full blast.
Lizza held her hoof under the running water to make sure it wasn’t too hot. After that, she poured a small amount of hotel soap into the running water. It never ceased to amaze her how quickly that soap seemed to bubble up in that tub, so she made sure to use it sparingly. If Kizzy had done it, the whole miniature bottle would have been used and the bathroom would have been filled with suds. She’d learned that lesson the hard way the first time they were allowed this room.
Smithy watched the bathtub antics, wishing she could be involved. Even after five years of working as a slave liberator, she still kept her distance between herself and her daughter, worried that the truth would only complicate the little zebra’s ideas about freedom.
Smithy opened a bottle of wine from the room's mini bar and poured herself a glass to ease herself. She had taken to the comforts of alcohol over the past few years, and any chance she had to drown her sorrows she eagerly partook in. She sighed as she took a good long sip, thankful for the sensation that alcohol brought to her mind. It never ceased to amaze her that a drink like this was on the verge of being considered illegal thanks to new prohibition laws being lobbied in Canterlot. ‘To think them thistle flanked fuss buckets want this stuff outlawed when we can't get slave abolishion on the ballot,’ she thought to herself as she enjoyed the next sip, thinking about the articles she had read in the newspapers concerning the ban of alcoholic beverages around Equestria. ‘I hope them uptight ponies know how idiotic this whole thing is. Folks want their sips, and are gonna find ways to get it. Either way, we’ll still move moonshine outta Sweet Apple Acres, legal or not. Moonshinin’s good money.’
Crab Apple and Salty Ron were the last to enter the room with a tray of food. Crab Apple untopped the tray with an elaborate flourish. “Ta da!” he said, revealing an appetizing fruit salad. “Enjoy ladies. Me and Salty Ron here gotta get some news around town before we tuck in.”
While Smithy knew this was vital to their next move, she had a feeling it would be the same old news as always. “No news on Carpet Bag I’m gonna assume,” she said as she drained the last of her glass. “Fer a dirty politician, he sure knows how to keep his nose clean.”
Crab Apple nodded in agreement as he took a quick slice of honeydew melon. “I always check anyway,” he said as he went for another slice. “You never know if he’ll slip up one a these days. Da important thing we gotta find out is where da cops are lookin’ for us so we can avoid 'em.”
As the two ponies spoke, Salty Ron had snuck off to the bathroom to be with Lizza and Kizzy. Crab Apple could hear the three of them laughing and splashing. “Hey, love boyd!” he teased as he stuck his head in the bathroom. “You can make a splash when our work is done. Come on, we need intell.”
Kizzy pouted her disagreement as she stuck her head out of the suds. “But I have made him a beard!” she protested as she turned Salty Ron’s sudsy face around.
Crab Apple couldn’t help laughing at the soapy adaptation of facial hair. “It suits him,” he said as he handed Salty Ron a wet washcloth. “But he’s got a lotta work ta get done tonight. I’ll bring him back when he’s done, okay?”
Smithy poured herself another glass of wine as she watched Crab Apple put a dollop of suds on Kizzy’s nose. It was just too much cute to handle right now. She swallowed a mouthful as Crab Apple and Salty Ron walked out of the bathroom.
Crab Apple turned to say goodbye to her as she drained the glass. “Ease up on dat stuff, would you?” he said, his brow knitted with concern. “I don’t wanna find out you accidentally fell off da balcony again like last time you got drunk. We almost lost you dat time, remember?"
Smithy remembered that fall all too well, and it was no drunken accident. She was tired of running from the law, tired of making her mother and son wait for her to finish breaking the law to come home, tired of living a lie in front of her own daughter, and above all tired of being alone. The jump from the balcony had felt liberating, as if all her troubles fell away with her, only to return ten fold as she hit the ground in a painful heap. The back alley doctor who treated her told her that she was lucky to be alive, and that if she hadn’t been drunk she might be worse off since the alcohol had loosened her muscles up enough to cushion some of the impact.
Smithy dismissed Crab Apple’s concerns as she set her glass down. “Ya worry like an old man,” she replied. “If I get somethin’ in mah belly I’ll be alright.”
Crab Apple grabbing the wine bottle in his teeth and poured it out in the sink to prevent Smithy from drinking more. “I worry like a friend's supposed ta do," he said sternly, watching Smithy scowl over the wasted wine. “You know what dat stuff did ta my dad. I don't want da same thing happenin' ta you."
Smithy stared hard at her partner, not sure what kind of argument she could come up with in her defense. "Big talk fer a moonshiner," she muttered under her breath as she walked away.
Crab Apple sighed and rolled his eyes at Smithy, worried about what kind of mess she had become over the years. It wasn’t that he didn't care about her, because he did. He hated watching her suffer from the stress he put her under, but she knew what she was getting herself into from the get go. He had offered to let her quit the fight against slavery several times so that her life could return to normal, but her stubborn streak prevented her from quitting. While he admired her dedication, he couldn't help wondering how much more fight she had left in her, or that he had left in him.
The two men left, slamming the door behind them. The minute the door was closed, Smithy opened up a fresh bottle of wine. “Girls!” she said as she peeked her tipsy head into the bathroom. “Ya hungry? We got fruit salad!”
Kizzy bound out of the tub, soaked and covered in suds as she ran for the bathroom door. “I love fruit salad!” she exclaimed as she tracked soap and water all over the room. “What fruit is it? I hope there is bananas!”
The lack of bananas was slightly disheartening to Kizzy, but so was the force in which Lizza picked her up. “Dry off, child!” Lizza exclaimed as she wrapped Kizzy up in a towel. “You are making a mess in this nice hotel. Apologize to Mrs. Rich.”
Smithy hated that Lizza still referred to her by her married name after all these years, but listened to the simple apology that her daughter gave. “Don’t ya worry none,” she smiled as she handed Kizzy an oversize bathrobe. “Now eat yer fill before bedtime.”
Kizzy did not have to be told twice to eat. She filled a bowl to overflowing with fruit before sitting in an overstuffed chair to enjoy her meal. Smithy smiled at the joy on the child’s face as she finished off another glass of wine.
By the time she drained another glass of wine, Kizzy had eaten all she could. Lizza had only indulged in one bowl while Smithy had picked through the rest.
Kizzy could no longer suppress her yawning as Lizza scooped her up. “I do not want to sleep yet,” Kizzy protested as she was carried into another bedroom.
Lizza cooed into the child’s ear as she lay Kizzy down in bed. “You will feel differently soon,” she sighed as she covered the child in blankets. “This is a nice bed, is it not? Very warm and soft, like being wrapped up in a flower, just like your bees.”
Kizzy looked at the crisp white sheets as she lay in bed, thinking to herself as Lizza surrounded them around her. “Do you think the bees miss me?” she asked as Lizza kissed her on the head.
While Lizza hated the bees, she knew how much they meant to Kizzy. “I am certain that they do,” he said as she blew out the oil lamp. “You are their queen bee. How could they not wish to see you soon?”
Smithy could hear the two zebras talking in the other room, and emptied the wine bottle into her glass as soon as she heard them singing 'Follow the Drinking Gourd' together. She downed the last of it as soon as she saw Lizza walking out of the bedroom. “Care fer a glass?” she slurred her offer as she uncorked a fresh bottle of wine.
Lizza shook her head as Smithy poured herself some more wine. “No thank you, misses,” she said, turning away the offer. “Perhaps you should also think to stop soon. You will make yourself ill, misses.”
Smithy snorted at the concerns as she swallowed a mouthful of wine. “I ain’t misses nobody,” she slurred. “I ain’t married anymore, remember? Mah husband’s dead!”
Lizza shrunk back at the sound of Smithy’s insane laughter. “Please, misses,” she said as she caught Smithy from falling over. “You will wake the child. Mr. Crab Apple will not be pleased to see you behaving like this.”
Having been lead to a couch in the room, Smithy plopped down comfortably. “He ain’t mah husband neither,” she protested. “We’re just friends, remember? Partners if ya will. Ain’t no hanky panky goin’ on with us, mind ya! Not like y’all with Salty Ron.”
Lizza blushed at the mention of Salty Ron. “He is very kind to me, misses, and we care deeply for each other,” she said as she brought a blanket to the couch. “For once in your heart, you are wise to distance your affections from Mr. Crab Apple. The two of you do fine work together. A romance would only complicate things.”
Smithy drained the last of her glass as she leaned against a plush pillow. “Ya think he likes me?” she asked like a starry-eyed teenager.
Lizza rolled her eyes as she took the empty glass out of Smithy’s hoof. “You are a good friend to him, misses,” he replied half-heartedly.
Smithy shook her head drunkly as she watched Lizza. “No, I don’t mean that,” she said, holding up a nearby copy of the Hoofington Post. “I mean really like me, like the picture in the newspaper. Like a special somepony on Hearts and Hooves Day.”
The photo in the newspaper had nothing to do with Hearts and Hooves Day, which only helped confirm to Lizza that Smithy was drunk. “Keep your friendship, misses,” she advised as she took the newspaper away.
Smithy sighed as she looked at the ceiling, a far away look in her eyes as she stared at the detailed trim that lined the ceiling edges. “Crab Apple sure is good with Kizzy,” she mused. “Too bad mah son don’t like him. I sure wish mah boy was nicer to his sister.”
Lizza rushed up to her charge, resting her hoof against Smithy’s mouth. “Hush now,” she said nervously. “You do not need Kizzy to hear you.”
Smithy burst out laughing at Lizza’s caution. “Yer so greedy with mah daughter,” she bellowed. “Kizzy was mine before ya took over. She ain’t got nothin’ to worry her, so why don’t we just tell her I’m her mama? Can’t hurt nothin’!”
Lizza was so desperate to quiet Smithy that she slapped her hard across the face. “Her freedom depends upon our silence!” she hollered back, eyes hard in anger. “You wish to talk of greed? She has no life here in Equestria, even if she knew you as her mother. She will have a life of freedom in Zebrica, and we do not want to confuse her anymore than she already is. Do you understand me, misses?”
Smithy hit Lizza in the head with a pillow, making her fall to the ground. “Iffn’ yer so worried ‘bout Kizzy’s freedom, than why ain’t ya gone and took her back home on one of the boats yet?” she asked. “All the other zebras went on the first boat back. Ya could of gone too, and took Kizzy with ya.”
Lizza bit her bottom lip as she looked up at Smithy. “I stayed for Salty Ron,” she admitted. “Kizzy would not go without me, so she chose to stay as well. I regret my choice, but I can not stop my love!”
Smithy felt a sadistic thrill at making Lizza cry. “And ya call me selfish,” she declared. “Ya called me all kinda greedy fer lovin’ Bladire, and fer tryin’ to smuggle y’all to freedom. Ya said I was selfish fer havin’ Bladire’s baby, so ya took her so nopony’d suspect I loved me a zebra. Ya stayed 'round so ya could have some hanky panky with another zebra, keepin’ Kizzy even longer. The only reason I ain’t pushed ya outta Equestria mahself is ‘cause I love bein’ ‘round mah daughter, not that y’all are gonna let me admit it to her! Kizzy ain't some stupid ziggler. She's mah daughter!”
The argument was cut short at the sound of little hoofsteps. Both women turned to see Kizzy standing in the hallway clutching a blanket, her little face screwed up in confusion. “Misses?” she asked. “Is it true? You are my mother?”
Smithy burst into tears as she said yes, running to the child and throwing her arms around her. “I’m sorry, baby!” she bawled. “I had no choice! I kept quiet ‘bout it fer yer safety!”
Lizza threw Smithy to the floor. “Leave us, misses,” she commanded, staring hard down at the green pony laying on the floor. “I will explain everything to the child.”
Smithy looked up pathetically at Lizza, whose stare could have bored right through her. “You are drunk, misses, and in no shape to discuss anything. We will talk in the morning when you are in a condition to speak. Now leave us.”
Chapter 41: Nothing Good Ever Comes Out of The Fire Hole
Chapter 41: Nothing Good Ever Comes Out of The Fire Hole
Smithy wandered the streets of Canterlot in a drunken haze, angry at herself for stirring up so much trouble. She could only imagine what Lizza was telling Kizzy in an effort to calm her down, or the emotional turmoil her daughter was going through right now without her there to explain anything. Kizzy was a curious young lady, and was growing up so much faster than Smithy wanted to admit.
Smithy leaned against a brick wall as she thought about all the wasted years she had spent not telling her daughter the truth. What kind of difference could it have made if she had? Could she have really been able to be the mother she had wanted to be? And would Filthy Rich have accepted Kizzy as a sister, or would that have been a shambles? She often blamed herself for how long it was taking to get her mother and son back home, but all she wanted was for them all to be a family. The longer it took for her to realize this ideal dream, the more it felt like just that: a dream. An idealistic, nonsensical, unreal, achievable dream. And it was all her fault for letting it fail.
Across the street from where she stood was a seedy looking pharmacy. The pharmacy itself was called Quick Relief, but Smithy knew it was just a front for the speakeasy known as The Fire Hole. She remembered how her brother, Prairie Tune, would talk about playing in The Fire Hole when she was a filly, and how it was filled with a wide variety of depravity. Now it was fronted a pharmacy filled with over the counter remedies and cheap merchandise due to looming threat of prohibition, while doing its more lucrative business in the back. Smithy wasn’t feeling like the most upstanding pony at the moment, so she let her curiosity get the better of her.
The floors of The Fire Hole were covered in sawdust, and already a fight between two bar patrons was in progress. Ignoring the macho display of hooves and bottles flying through the air, Smithy walked up to the bar counter and called for the bartender. “Gimme a drink!” she exclaimed as she dug a few bits out of her saddlebag. “I wanna get good and hammered. What’s yer recommendation?”
The bartender looked at Smithy’s sad, bloodshot eyes, knowing that this would be an easy sale. “How about some cider?” he suggested as he grabbed a mug. “It’s sweet and goes down smooth, and you look like you could go for an easy going buzz.”
Smithy shook her head at the recommendation. She’d made cider before, and she knew she wanted something stronger.
The bartender brought out a bottle of whiskey, which seemed to be more her taste. He quickly mixed it with apple juice while he threw in a few ice cubes. “I call it an applejack,” he said as Smithy downed it, wincing at the slight burn it caused in her throat.
She cleared her throat as she wiped her mouth with the back of her hoof. “Gimme a double,” Smithy said as she pushed her glass forward. “And keep ‘em comin’.”
She’d downed four more drinks by the time the fight broke up. With the entertainment passed out on the floor, the spectators crowded around the bar for their drinks. Smithy watched a large stallion walk up to the bar with a pitcher in his hoof. She watched as he guzzled down the entire pitcher of cider while walking, only to throw it back up again into the same pitcher he drank out of before sitting right next to her.
The vile stallion plopped the pitcher down, causing some of it's contents to splash out onto the bar counter. “Gimme another!” he bellowed out as he pushed the overflowing pitcher of vomit forward. Without hesitation, the bartender got rid of the gross pitcher and replaced it with a fresh one filled with cider, wiping off the counter where he saw it had spilled as if he'd done this more times than he'd like to admit.
The stallion downed half the pitcher before spitting on the sawdust covered ground. He then looked at Smithy with a drunken smile. “Hey girl,” he flirted. “I haven’t seen you around here before. New in town?”
Smithy smiled politely as she swirled her drink around in its glass. “I get 'round,” she said as she drank the rest of her applejack.
As she set her glass down for a refill, the stallion took out a stack of bits to pay for it. “This one’s on me,” he slurred. “So what’s your name?”
Smithy wasn’t too sure about this guy. After all, she’d just watched him go from puking in a pitcher while walking to flirting with her without skipping a beat. Who knew what other disgusting talents he had to offer, or where that kind of behavior was considered tolerable. “Oh, I’m…” she started, looking around for anything to use as a lie. “I’m… Applejack! Eeyup, Applejack.”
The stallion bought the lie with gusto, letting out a good natured laugh before spitting on the floor again. “I’m Glue Stick,” he said. “You any good at pool?”
Smithy had never played pool a day in her life. While she still wasn't so sure about Glue Stick, she was in the mood for some more distraction before having to go face reality again. She may as well enjoy living up to the alias of Applejack while it lasted.
She followed Glue Stick to the pool table where a few other ponies were about to set up a game. They thought to argue with Glue Stick over interrupting their game, but their domineers softened at the sight of Smithy. Each one of them was eager to show off for a plump pretty pony, and Smithy was eager to soak up the attention. It wasn’t like she had a very special somepony to save herself for, so why not have some fun after everything she'd been through that night.
When it was her turn to use the pool stick, Smithy could barely make out what she was trying to hit. The pool balls were going in and out of focus as she struck the cue ball into a pocket.
The men all playfully teased her for her error, but Glue Stick decided to set it back in front of her in an attempt to impress her. “Let me guide you,” he said as he put his arm around her waist. He rested his head on her shoulder and held her hoof over the pool stick.
Smithy could smell both vomit and alcohol on his breath as he breathed instructions in her ear. While it smelled disgusting enough, she couldn’t help blushing over the rush of attention she was receiving. With Glue Stick’s help, she was able to successfully hit another ball into a table pocket.
One of the other stallions smirked at Glue Stick’s display of affection. “That’s all fine and good,” he said as he stood at Smithy’s other side, “but let a man show you how to get an angle on.”
Smithy thrilled as she felt the other stallion throw his arm around her shoulders, which did not seem to make Glue Stick very happy. Glue Stick threw his opponent’s arm off Smithy’s shoulder as he stood to his full height. “Back off, Rage!” he bellowed, the muscles in his face tensing up as he snorted. "I saw her first! She's with me!"
Rage threw a hoof in that tightened up face of Glue Stick’s. Glue Stick was quick to return the punch, which knocked Rage across the floor. Once again a fight had broken out at The Fire Hole, and the patrons were eager to place bets on it. The two stallions beat each other senseless as they rolled around in the sawdust. Glue Stick, being the stronger of the two, lifted Rage above his head and threw him out a window.
Smithy didn’t care who won. She knew she was the cause of all this violence, and for the first time in her life she didn't care. For once she was happy to just sit back and watch the chaos she had caused go about its business without her sticking her nose into it. After a lifetime of trying to do the right thing by everypony, she liked not caring about the outcome of the two men fight over her. It was therapeutic in a way to sit back and enjoy the ride no matter what the consequences were.
She followed the crowd as the fight made its way out into the street, cheering and hollering along with the rest of them. “Hot dang, I love a good fight!” she exclaimed, swept up in the crowd's excitement at the two men wrestling on the cobblestones. “Come on boys! Kick ‘em where it counts! Do it fer me!”
She watched Glue Stick take a shot below the belt, which only made her laugh all the more as the crowd made a collective wincing noise. Her fun was cut short when she felt herself being yanked from the fight.
Crab Apple stood before her, wide eyed in fear at the sight of his normally conservative partner in such a state of disarray. “Are you outta your mind!” he hollered over the rowdy crowd. “Dis ain’t safe! Street fights are against da law in Canterlot!”
Smithy pushed him away and spat unladylike on the ground. “We’re against the law, remember?” she slurred drunkenly.
Crab Apple could hear the Canterlot guards already breaking up the fight. “Ah crap!” he cursed as he shook Smithy. “It’s da guards! Run for it!”
Smithy stumbled after Crab Apple, who was much faster than she was given how much she had to drink that night. She ran right into a row of trashcans as she attempted to follow him, falling down over the mess she’d just made.
She tried to get back up, but was quickly thrown down by a guard. “Take a look at this!” the guard said as he shined a bright light from his unicorn horn on her face. “This looks like the Granny from the newspapers, doesn’t it?”
Another unicorn guard rushed up to the detained pony laying in the trash. “Sweet Celestia’s sun, it is her!” he exclaimed, adding even more illumination to the pony in question's face. “I can’t believe we caught her! The royal guard has been after her for years!”
The two guards hauled her to a pattywagon and threw her in the back. “Where’s the Granddad?” one of the guards interigated as he closed the door on her.
Smithy shook her head before throwing up. “Go to… Tartarus…” she gasped between bouts of sickness.
The other guard laughed at the pathetic display behind bars. “Let her be,” he said. “She’ll sing like a canary after she's had time to dry up in Foalsom.”
Applejack rested an embarrassed hoof against her forehead as she looked at her grandmother’s mug shots from Foalsom Prison. “Geeze, granny,” she said as she looked at the younger image of her grandmother looking ill while holding a name card for the prison photographer. “How many of them ‘applejack’ drinks did ya throw back to make ya behave like that? And while we’re on the subject, is that where mah name came from?!?”
Granny Smith retrieved the scrapbook full of memories as she thought back on the night of her arrest. “I can’t remember how much I had to drink that night,” she explained as she turned to a page full of newspaper clippings. “All I know is I’d never been more sick in all mah life. And to answer yer question, yer daddy liked the name after he’d had a few of ‘em when yer mama was expectin’. But that there’s a story fer another night!”
Applejack blushed at the realization that she’d been named after an alcoholic beverage. “So how’d y’all get yerself outta this mess?” she said, trying to change the subject.
Granny Smith turned to an article published in the Hoofington Post, which was later republished in newspapers Equestria wide. “Remember that there business card I told ya ‘bout?” she asked as she pointed to it in her scrapbook. “While I was in Foalsom I wrote to that there photographer…”
Smithy never understood why her father didn’t like talking about his sentence in Foalsom Prison when she was a girl, but now that she was serving a sentence of her own she knew why. Waiting for her case to come to trial was agonizing. She’d barely eaten in the month she’d spent behind bars because her nerves would not allow her stomach to keep anything down. The black and white striped prisoner’s uniform hung on her undernourished body like a set of rags. Her hair was a mess because she didn’t bother to take care of it. She looked every bit the part of a convict.
In spite of all her sufferings, one of the worst parts of her prison sentence was the sobriety. She hadn’t realized it, but she’d gotten mighty used to drinking over the years. The headaches, nausea, tremors, and constant clamminess made it hard to concentrate on anything. This, along with the depression and isolation made her an emotional wreck. The prison guards noticed her behavior and were waiting for her to crack, hoping to use her mental instability against her.
The guards pestered her everyday for the ware bouts of Crab Apple, but she was not in any mood to cooperate. Everyday when they brought her breakfast they brought with them the latest addition of the Equestrian Times. They seemed to love rubbing it in her face that her arrest was big news, and were trying to use this to get her to spill the information that they wanted. For as bad as Smithy was feeling, she was ready to just sit there and rot in her cell without opening up to the guards. It was the only control she had left.
It felt like an eternity before she received any mail. She wasn't surprised that the envelope had been torn already, especially since the guards were so hungry for information. She eagerly retrieved the letter from the dinner tray the guard had slid into her cell. The letter contained was from Crab Apple:
Dear Smithy,
I hope you realized what a fine mess you’ve gotten yourself into. The Brotherhood of Steeds has left behind Sweet Apple Acres until further notice, leaving it your brother's care. Prairie Tune and his family said they'd keep an eye on the property, but right now it's vacant. I’d tell you where we are but I’m afraid somepony will steal this letter and then I’ll be stuck in Foalsom with you. In the mean time, your fruits and vegetables will just have to wait for you to get out.
We did a quick sweep of the property before we left Sweet Apple Acres behind, and I’ve got some bad news. The moonshine still exploded in the Everfree Forest, and timberwolves got into it. It’s a mess, but let me tell you, I’ve never seen timberwolves look happier. I bucked a few and they were so drunk that they couldn’t put themselves back together correctly. They couldn’t figure out where their heads go! Funniest thing I’ve ever seen until they started sobering up. Nothing is scarier than a timberwolf with a hangover.
I did go to the Hoofington Post with our story, hoping that a press release will help your case. I don’t know how much it’s going to help, but now they have something to fact check against. Maybe now folks will understand more about slavery and why we do what we do. I found the newspaper pony’s business card in your saddlebag after you left it at The Fire Hole in Canterlot. By the way, I hope you don’t mind I rooted around in your saddlebag. You women keep weird things in there.
We all miss you, and hope to see you come to trial soon. Who knows, maybe this is a blessing in disguise. You always said you wanted a chance to talk to the princess about slavery, so maybe this is the eye opener you’ve been waiting for. Well, you can't fault me for being optimistic, right?
With all my support, Crab Apple
P.S. Kizzy drew you a picture, and it’s enclosed. Lizza told her all about you and her father what’s his name (you know I’m bad with names, sorry.) She feels terrible about the fight you and Lizza had, but she says she can’t wait to see you again. Sounds like the two of you have a lot of catching up to do.
Kizzy had drawn a picture of herself and Smithy surrounded by a big red heart. Around the heart were drawings of Lizza, Crab Apple, Salty Ron, and other members of the Brotherhood of Steeds. It was one of the most touching drawings Smithy had ever seen in all her life. She only wished she had some tape to put it up in her cell.
Smithy noticed the ragged looking business card slip out of the envelope. It read ‘Focus, Photographer and Writer for the Hoofington Post.’ Suddenly the idea of writing to the press didn’t sound half bad. She didn’t receive the Hoofington Post in prison, so heaven only knows what Crab Apple had told them. For all the hard work it sounded like Focus was doing for her, the least she could do was give him an exclusive interview.
Granny Smith pawed at Kizzy’s drawing in her scrapbook. “I thought 'bout Kizzy the whole time I was in Foalsom,” she said as she remembered the lonely nights she had spent behind bars. “I remember when I wrote that letter to Mr. Focus, and I just let everythin’ spill out into that there letter. He ended up writing it up fer his paper, and even sold the story to bigger papers. He wanted everypony to know what was goin’ on. He must’ve gotta big ol’ pay out fer sellin’ that there article. Ended up winnin’ a Mulitzer Prize fer it too.”
Granny Smith turned to the article that Focus had published in the Hoofington Post, and to the subsequent copycat articles it inspired from other newspapers. “That photographer saved mah flank,” she explained. “Canterlot was up in arms as soon as mah story got published in the Equestria Times. Why if it hadn’t been fer him I might’ve never had a chance to talk to the princess at all…”
A few weeks later, Smithy was rudely awaken by none other than Senator Carpet Bag himself. “We’re doing your trial today, Granny Smith,” he said as he tapped on the bars. “The guards will be by soon to pick you up for trial. I would like to remind you that whatever you say in a court of law can and will be used against you. It would be wise of you to choose your words carefully, especially with this ridiculous article of yours floating around the newspapers.”
Carpet Bag threw down a copy of the latest Equestria Times at Smithy’s feet, whose headlines boldly read TRIAL OF THE CENTURY!!! He scowled as Smithy casually picked it up as if nothing special was going on.
Smithy let out a low whistle as she scanned it over, finding out that her trial would be covered by all the newspapers in Equestria. “Lotta coverage on this,” she said as she skimmed the article.
Carpet Bag was not impressed by the pony’s reaction to how serious this matter was. “May I remind you that your freedom is at stake,” he said, enunciating every word. “It would behoove you to cooperate with me. I am a very powerful man and I can make sure that you either walk free on insanity charges or never again see the light of day. The choice is strictly yours.”
Smithy began to laugh at the notion of freedom. “Mah freedom?” she laughed almost maniacally. “I’m fightin’ fer the freedom of zebra slaves that y’all brought into this here kingdom, slaves y’all treat like common pigs, and yer threatenin’ mah freedom?”
Senator Carpet Bag smacked the bars of the cell in frustration. “Clearly the economic freedom of our nation or the peace we have enjoyed with the Griffon Kingdom means nothing to you!” he hollered. “I will make you pay for your insubordination should you make a mockery of everything I have worked for to make Equestria prosperous. I will take from you everything that you hold dear! I can make sure that ziggler daughter you so brazenly wrote about is taken away, even if I have to do it myself!”
The very mention of Kizzy made Smithy stop in her tracks. “Ya talk a mighty big threat,” she scowled. “Mark mah word ya dirty varmint, I will protect mah kin. Even if I gotta go to the gallows fer it.”
Carpet Bag took a deep breath to try calming himself. “You have made a very powerful enemy today, Granny Smith,” he proclaimed as he looked down his nose at her.
Smithy spat at his hooves before replying with, “Go to Tartarus.”
As one final gesture, Carpet Bag threw a bag of toiletries into Smithy’s cell. “Clean yourself up, you filthy sow,” he sneered, disgusted at the sight of the unwashed pony.
Smithy watched Carpet Bag trotting out of sight before digging into the bag of toiletries. While she did have a small sink in her cell, she grown unaccustomed to using it. She had almost forgotten what toothpaste tasted like at this point. Scrubbing the taste of the last few weeks out of her mouth was more refreshing than any glass of wine had ever felt, so much so that she brushed her teeth three times before deciding to move onto something else.
It was difficult for her to wash her mane in the tiny sink, but she was at least able to get it wet enough to smear with a bar of soap. Rinsing was even more difficult, but Smithy did her best. Once she had rung and shook out her mane, Smithy began to brush it out. It was at that time that she noticed what looked like a gray hair. ‘Can’t be,’ she thought to herself as she pawed at the off colored hair. ‘Light’s playin’ tricks on me. I’ve always been blonde, so I betcha it’s the light.’
Just to make sure, she plucked the offending hair out from her head to better look at it in the light. She was shocked to confirm her first gray hair.
Smithy wasn’t sure what to think when three strong guards approached her cell. This was the moment she had been waiting for, but how it was being played out was intimidating.
The head guard was a unicorn with a mean streak. He sneered down at her as he lifted a set of leg chains with his magic, an expression that showed he was looking forward to detaining his pesky prisoner. “Granny Smith,” the head guard said as he used his unicorn magic to shackle her in chains. “It is time to stand trial for your crimes.”
Smithy could not hold back a gasp as the shackles clasped her wrists and ankles. Once detained, she was dragged along the floor by two strong earth pony guards. Other prisoners cheered, spat, cat called, or threw things at her as she was dragged past their cells. It felt like she was having this done more for show than to be put on trial.
After being dragged several humiliating miles to the palace, Smithy was thrown down before a red velvet curtain. She could hear voices on the other side of the curtain, one of which was the musical voice of Princess Celestia. She remembered the day that the princess pulled back that curtain to reveal her father when he went to trial, and now it was her turn. Nothing Smithy had ever done in her life could prepare her for this moment. She could not suppress the nervous butterflies that she felt in the pit of her stomach as she waited to be revealed.
It felt like an eternity before she heard the princess’s dainty hoofsteps coming her way. The minute the curtain was opened, Smithy was blinded by the flashes of hundreds of cameras. In the midst of the flashes, the princess looked more like a regally blurry outline.
Even amidgst the excitable courtroom chatter and the whining of the camera flashes, Princess Celestia's voice could be heard clear as day. “Granny Smith,” Princess Celestia said in a serious tone. “You have made some very bold statements to the press, and are being charged with libel against one of my most esteemed members of my royal household. I am giving you the chance to plea your case. Are you ready to begin?”
Smithy could barely move in the presence of the royal princess. She remembered how Celestia had towered over her as a child, but this time she did not look nearly as pleasant as she had once remembered. All that she could say in response was a dumb little ‘uh huh.’
Princess Celestia turned without so much as an acknowledgement to the prisoner and began trotting back to her throne. “Bring the prisoner before me,” she ordered to the guards.
Doing as they were instructed, the guards deposited Smithy before the royal throne. She was greeted by another series of camera flashes as she sat. Beside the throne stood a vindictive looking Carpet Bag along with several other political figureheads. She even noticed what looked to be old members of the Faction of the Stud. From where she sat, it looked like all of the important ponies were sitting miles above her.
The first to speak was Senator Carpet Bag. “Granny Smith,” he declared in a dynamic speaking voice. “We have all read of your illegal exploits in the newspapers over the years. The antics of you and your comrade in arms have become a regular newspaper serial. Some even consider you a folk hero of sorts, even an off color brand of entertainment. Your partner in crime wrote a similar story to the scandalous Hoofington Post, but this article that you somehow found a way to get published while waiting for your trial for lewd and drunken behavior is beyond me, but this has gone too far!”
Smithy watched as the article was revealed from an evidence bag, followed by the article that Crab Apple had written to the Hoofington Post. She couldn’t help smirking at the display of theatrics that had gone into the presentation. “Since when’s writtin’ a sin?” she replied with a capricious demeanor.
A low rumble of laughter could be heard around the room, which was quickly extinguished by a hard look from Carpet Bag. “It is no sin to take a quill to paper,” he replied calmly, watching as the reporters scribbled what was being said. “However, what you did falls under libel, also known as defamation by written or printed words, pictures, or in any form other than by spoken words or gestures, as told by Mr. Webster in his well known dictionary.”
Carpet Bag was talking over Smithy’s head, and he knew it. He could tell by the dumb look on her face that he was going to be able to talk the trial in his favor. This was only made better by the media’s support. “How do you plead?” he sneered.
Smithy stood to her full height in an attempt to look stronger, a gesture that the newspapers were eager to get snapshots of. “Not guilty,” she declared amidst the sea of snapshots. “I wrote what I knew to be true. I wrote ‘bout the slavery of zebras in this here kingdom, and I wrote ‘bout how and why y’all brought ‘em here in the first place.”
Carpet Bag didn’t miss a beat as he brought out the prized piece of evidence in his favor. “So from what you are saying, you are blaming me of being nothing more than a slave runner?” he accused. “With no proof to your name, you are saying that I am responsible for the suffrage of innocent migrant workers who have come to this nation to better themselves. You do realize how ridiculous this accusation sounds, don’t you? A respected senator cashing in on innocent lives? For shame!”
Shame was the last thing Smithy was worried about. She had become desensitized to it during her time in Foalsom. “Ya wanna go on 'bout shame?” she replied in an aggravated squeal that excited the court reporters. “Why not talk ‘bout buyin’ zebras from them griffon merchants back when Cloudsdale went on strike? Ya bought ‘em up to use fer irrigation diggin’ so ya’d have somethin’ to tax. And why not add how much y’all liked havin’ them zebras 'round and why y’all decided to keep ‘em after they made yer lives so much easier? They got so popular that y’all started pocketin’ bits from tradin’ ‘em on the market like common produce!”
Carpet Bag was well known for both ending the Cloudsdale strike and for making peace with the Griffon Kingdom, two tasks that many thought impossible at the time. With that kind of victory under his belt, he had to come up with a good story to tell the press to make it all sound respectable. Having made that story his legacy, he was prepared to tell it again. “The zebras are our allies,” he calmly began his retelling. “We made a peace treaty with them during our time of disagreements with the Griffon Kingdom, and the zebras were prepared to help us in our quest for peace. They enjoyed their time with us, and several wished to stay and extend their time helping us. They come to this nation looking for a dignified profession compared to their savage lives in their homeland.”
This was a flat out lie, and Smithy knew it. “They’re forced here by a triangular trade system!” she hollered. “The griffons capture ‘em up from Zebrica, ship ‘em here, get what they need from us, and sail on home fer more! Merchants here in Equestria call it the Middle Passage! Y’all can ask any merchant in Horseshoe Bay!”
Princess Celestia could see that the debate was getting heated, and the last thing she wanted was to see a fight break out in her royal halls. Several times she had seen a minor disagreement turn into an all out brawl the minute somepony threw a chair, and the last thing she needed was a repeat of this behavior with the media so present. “Ease yourselves!” she commanded, a demand which was quickly followed. “Granny Smith, these are very serious accusations you place upon my senator. This is a story I have never heard before in my royal court. Have you the evidence to back it up? What is your source for this information?”
Smithy’s mouth hung open as she thought about what she was going to say next. “I uh…” she began, trying to think of the best way to phrase what she was on her mind. “Well, it comes from some ponies I know. I've been workin’ on gettin’ slaves outta Equestria fer years, so it’s hard to pinpoint all mah sources.”
Carpet Bag objected to the reply. “You have no sources?” he denounced, standing in just the right way that the photojournalists were eager to get a shot of their own to add to their articles. “And yet you are eager to write such a jarring accusation? It is easy to see that these are lies!”
From the crowd came an objection. “No it ain’t!” came the familiar voice of Crab Apple. Smithy’s head went right up as she tried to figure out where he was in the crowd. She watched as a zebra came walking forward, a zebra who looked an awful lot like Crab Apple. “Don’t mind da war paint, your highness,” he said as he tried to wipe the painted disguise off. “I had ta get past da guards or I’d be in chains too. See, it comes right off.”
It wasn’t coming off. Instead it just smudged all over his face. Smithy rested an embarrassed hoof over her face at the spectacle Crab Apple was making of himself.
The guards rushed on Crab Apple to detain him, but Princess Celestia stopped them from capturing him. “Let him speak,” she commanded. “You must be the Granddad I have read so much about in the newspapers. You've gained quite a splash in the gossip columns.”
Crab Apple stood satisfied with his smile obscured by his smudged make up. “Dat’d be me, your majesty. Name’s Crab Apple,” he replied proudly, making sure to shoot Smithy a sideways wink to show his support.
Princess Celestia noticed the exchange between the two ponies, and so did the media. “Very well, Mr. Crab Apple, you may testify on Granny Smith’s behalf,” she agreed, the court erupting in surprise and awe at the princess's decision. “Be aware that you will be held in contempt of court following this trial, for there are also warrants for your own arrest. A separate trial will be held against your crimes. Do I make myself clear?”
Crab Apple held out a hoof of contrast. “Gotta better idea,” he replied, the courtroom gasping at his bold disregard of royal command. “Me and Smiddy here are partners in dis, as I’m sure you’ve read in da papers by now. Why not try us both togetha? Save yourself some time and headache. Whadda you say? It's obvious dis media circus is annoyin' you, 'cause you hold your breath a little when they get all excited.”
The courtroom rumbled with excitement as a few more camera flashes went off. Princess Celestia was getting tired of the ever roaming press in her castle never giving her a moments peace, so the idea of getting the media out quicker by just doing one trial was very appealing. She hadn't realized how obvious it was that they were bothering her, but now was not the time to state the obvious. “We have an agreement,” she said, smiling slightly at the advantage Crab Apple had presented her with. “In the mean time, please wipe that ridiculous make up off of your face.”
Celestia ordered for a slave she called Alabaster to bring a water basin and towels up to Crab Apple. Alabaster was an old, well dressed zebra who walked slowly with a limp. He bowed low to the princess as soon as his task was completed. “Will there be anything else, your majesty?” he asked, his head bowed so low that his nose touched the floor.
Princess Celestia waved a dismissive hoof to the slave in front of her. “Thank you, Alabaster. That will be all for now,” she replied nonchalantly. The old zebra rose slowly from the ground on his old, creaky knees before exiting the room.
Smithy helped Crab Apple with the face paint he had disguised himself with. “Yer a right idiot fer doin’ this,” she smiled as she wiped the black and white smudges from his face.
Crab Apple returned the smile as he dried his face with a towel. “Fogetta ‘bout it,” he replied. “Besides, you got da trial by actin’ like an idiot in dat speakeasy. Least I can do is stand up here with my partner in crime.”
The conversation was cut short by Princess Celestia’s ladylike throat clearing. “You had evidence to support Granny Smith last time I checked,” she replied impatiently. The last thing she wanted was more interruptions.
Crab Apple snapped back to the reality he was about to face. “Yeah, I do,” he replied sternly. “Senator Carpet Bag here did a lotta dirty dealin’s back in da day when my dad was still alive. My dad had dis gang called da Faction a da Stud. Ever heard a them?”
The princess shook her head at the question. “I have scanned over the name in the newspaper,” she replied. “I have heard more about the gang you are a part of, a group that calls themselves the Brotherhood of Steeds. What do these street gangs have to do with the accusations your partner has brought upon my senator?”
Crab Apple held a calm hoof out to stifle the princess. “I’m gettin’ ta dat,” he replied rudely. “Your senator there was lookin’ for a way ta save Equestria from war with da Griffon Kingdom like any good pencil pusher would do. Well, Cloudsdale wasn’t helpin’ anypony out, so he was lookin’ for cheap labor ta help solve your problems. While talkin’ ta delegates in da Griffon Kingdom, he noticed how da zebras were waitin’ on ‘em hoof and foot, just like your Alabaster there. Him and my dad go way back, and he knew he could depend on him and his gang ta force some zebras ta work for Equestria just like they did for da griffons. They struck a deal with some griffon merchants, and next thing you know we got slaves diggin’ ditches.”
Princess Celestia was aware of the zebras who had dug the essential irrigation ditches that helped end the Cloudsdale strike. “I would hardly call them slaves,” she replied in her senator’s defense. “We treated them well and made sure they were well accommodated. When the peace treaty was signed between Equestria and the Griffon Kingdom, I made sure to personally thank the zebras who put so much hard work into saving our nation from war. The zebras chose to stay and serve us, one of them being my loyal servant, Alabaster. More have immigrated to our fine nation after that unfortunate incident, which has helped Equestria flourish as a beacon of commerce. Senator Carpet Bag has seen to it that we continue to thrive by being the head of immigration.”
Crab Apple could not suppress sarcastic laughter, which Princess Celestia did not appreciate. “Da perfect alibi!” he said as Smithy nudged him for his brazen behavior. “Now other than you, who does he gotta report himself ta? Who does he work with on a regular basis? Who backs him up?”
The courtroom irrupted with gasps and flashes as Carpet Bag objected the accusations. Princess Celestia overruled the objection. “Please answer Crab Apple’s questions, senator,” she said to move the trial forward.
Carpet Bag’s nostrils flared as he approached the smirking Crab Apple. “Your father was a good man,” he said rather dramatically. “He cared deeply for this kingdom and for the ponies who lived in it. You must miss him terribly.”
Crab Apple rolled his eyes at the senator’s display. “Cut da filibusterin’,” he replied. “Just answer my questions already. Your fan club’s waitin’ with their cameras and quills.”
The senator cleared his throat as he shot Crab Apple a dirty look. “I report to my fellow members of Congress, the Senate, the House of Representatives, the Equestrian treasury, and of course to our esteemed Princess Celestia,” he explained with a flourishing bow at the last statement. “As for who I work with on a regular basis, that time is taken up by the Department of Immigration, the Immigration Travel Bureau, registration at the Horse Shoe Bay Immigration Port, the Department of Job Placement for migrant workers, and the Department of Revenue. So as you can see, I am kept very busy.”
Crab Apple whistled low as the senator rattled off different departments. “Pretty names. Must be an election year,” he retorted, receiving a unanimous chuckle from the courtroom reporters.
Smithy rested her hoof on her forehead at the comment, embarrassed that her trial was becoming something of a joke for the newspapers to write one-liners about. “I hate to interject,” she said in her defense. “While mah partner here is bringin’ up some mighty fine questions, I gotta ask 'bout some of these here departments yer talkin’ ‘bout. What is it they do, and how well do they treat slaves? I mean ‘immigrant workers?’ I hear some folks die on these here trips over the ocean.”
Carpet Bag objected to the accusation, which was overruled by Princess Celestia. “Do explain, senator,” she said. “I have never actually heard all of the information about these departments due to my busy schedule. The accused have peeked my interest.”
Carpet Bag bowed to the request as he thought up the best way to sugar coat it for the princess. “First let me begin with the main hub, known as the Department of Immigration,” he began. “It is here that we keep records of those who wish to employ zebras and those looking to become employed. The Immigration Travel Bureau is in charge of transporting the migrant workers to Equestria, and they are made up griffons from the Griffon Kingdom. This department was essential in the peace making process during the unrest we had between kingdoms, and continues to help keep this peace and aid migrant workers to a better life here in Equestria. The Horse Shoe Bay Immigration Port is responsible for the unloading of passenger migrant workers and making sure that they are properly registered. The Department of Job Placement makes sure that those who enter our fair kingdom are placed with those looking for workers. The Department of Revenue makes sure our fine griffon merchants are paid well for their efforts.”
Feeling pleased with the answers, Princess Celestia turned to the accused. “Does this answer your questions, Granny Smith?” she asked.
Smithy shook her head, having a feeling that everything Carpet Bag had said was for his own benefit. “Ya say ya’ve never heard much 'bout these here places,” she said. “I’m guessin’ ya’ve never seen ‘em either, right?”
The princess shook her head at the question. “I have not seen them,” she replied honestly. “What would it prove to see them? I trust my government, and they would have no reason to go against my kingdom.”
Smithy rose to her feet before continuing, feeling confident that she had found something worth investigating. “Iffn’ ya ask me, yer majesty,” she said, adding a respectful bow for good measure, “what I heard outta all that ramblin’ was nothin’ but marketplace gab. Why, I betcha hooves to hindquarters these here departments ain’t as nice as they sound once ya get yer eyes on ‘em. I sure would like to see some of ‘em fer mahself.”
Once again, Carpet Bag objected. “Do you see what they are doing, your majesty?” he protested. “They are manipulating you to their twisted ways by wasting your time and precious resources in suggesting going on a wild goose chase all over Equestria. They clearly do not have a case. They are fugitives after all, and have been breaking the law for years.”
Princess Celestia could see by how the case was being presented that her senator had a much stronger case. She felt that he had the best interests of herself and her kingdom at heart, and that the prisoners were doing nothing but try to drag the case out even further. At the very least, she was glad that Crab Apple was stupid enough to turn himself in so eagerly and that her guards would have less work on their hooves. “I must agree with my senator,” she said, listening to the gasps of the press and the flashes of their cameras. “Until better evidence is presented before this court, I find you both guilty of libel. Guards, take them away from this throne room.”
Crab Apple’s plan had failed, and he began to panic. “Don’t let him do dis, your highness!” he hollered as shackles were placed around his wrists and ankles. “He’s lyin’ ta protect himself! He doesn’t care about anypony but himself!”
Smithy watched as the guards hit Crab Apple over the head to quiet him before dragging him away. She turned to the princess, who had a hard look on her face. It scared Smithy to see the princess who she always thought of as fair and just looking so coldly at her. Guards gathered around Smithy and lifted her up to take her to her cell.
The journalist ponies crowded around her with questions as she was lead away from the throne room. Smithy held her teary gaze low and didn’t answer any of them as the guards took her away.
Early one evenin' I was makin' the rounds I took a shot of whiskey and I got took down Made a good run but was slow to trot They overtook me on the streets of Canterlot.
Prairie Tune's latest single was all the rage on the radio, and was topping the charts for its ninth week in a row. While most mares would be happy with their brother's success, Smithy closed her eyes in shame as her brother sang about how she got herself arrested on the guard pony's portable radio.
When I was arrested I was dressed in black They put me on a train and they took me back I had no friends for to go my bail They slapped my dried up carcass in the Canterlot jail.
The guard on duty was particularly fond of that lyric. He slapped on Smithy's bars as he walked past her cell, getting a small thrill hearing her groan with aggravation. He knew she couldn't do anything from where the psychiatrists had strapped her down to prevent her from hurting herself.
Into the court room my trial made progress Where I was handled by the royal princess The verdict read in the worst decree I hollered 'Sweet Celestia have mercy on me!'
It had been nine weeks since Smithy was found guilty of libel, a sentence she hadn't even been arrested for in the first place. Her trial was a joke, nothing more than a manipulated attempt to pin her down for a crime she hadn't committed. She knew exactly why she was behind bars, and it killed her to know that she was powerless to stop it. All she had ever tried to do was be fair and just with the zebras whose lives had been ruined by slavery, and now her life was ruined for trying to do the right thing.
Smithy could not believe that she had lost the trial to Senator Carpet Bag, or that Crab Apple had been stupid enough to get himself arrested at the same time during the trial. With both of them behind bars their zebras were now helpless. She had hoped they could fend for themselves and outrun the law, but from where she was at she would never know. She imagined what a price they would get on the market considering the prestige surrounding the trial of their masters. She cried bitter tears night after night knowing that all the work she’d done for the past five years had all been for nothing. Kizzy may never know what freedom was, and it was all her fault.
Celestia smiled as he picked up her pen Ninety nine years in the Foalsom den Ninety nine years underneath that ground I can't forget the day I drank that whiskey down Come on you ponies and listen unto me Lay off that whiskey or you'll end up like Smithy!
That last line was the worst for her, because she knew how ponies liked to justify things. While the song was about her trial, she'd read in the newspaper brought to her cell that the Prohibitionists used it as an anthem for their cause and her jail sentence as reason for their demands. Everything that she had worked so hard for had all been for nothing. She would go down in history as a villain when all she ever wanted was justice and freedom.
Smithy began to cry to herself as the song ended, knowing it would go unnoticed and uncared about by anypony in Foalsom Prison. She knew none of them actually cared a bit about what all she was going through, or what her family was going through. She was just another number in a cell to them.
Smithy felt a handkerchief wiping her eyes, which didn't surprise her. She looked up to see the prison psychiatrist, Dr. Crane, was there for her regular psychiatric evaluation. Having been put on suicide watch, she was subjected to regular visits by this pompous excuse for a mental health professional. At the very least, she was looking forward to being sedated again at the end of the session for acting out like she regularly did.
Dr. Crane took the handkerchief away with the use of his unicorn magic. "So, same as how I left you?" he said as he levitated a clip board and quill. "You have a way of getting teary eyed, Granny Smith. Which trigger set you off this time? Something a guard said? Smells? Music?"
Smithy hated how he would treat her like nothing more than a common criminal instead of listening to her problems, but what else could she expect from Foalsom Prison. She cringed as he tried to evaluate her reasons for crying instead of just listening. "Music, doc," she replied with a hiccuping sob. "Mah brother's single is all wrong and it drives me up the wall."
Dr. Crane smiled professionally as he scribbled down Smithy's response. "Now, Granny Smith, you remember those breathing exercises we went over?" he said, watching Smithy roll her eyes at him. "Next time you get too excitable, you need to step back and breath, remember? Like this."
Smithy watched Dr. Crane do the absurd breathing exercises, wondering if he even realized how laughable he looked. If she even did something like that in the shower, she could just see herself being shived in the back by a fellow inmate just for looking so ridiculous. "Ain't workin' on me," she said stubbornly.
Dr. Crane clicked his tongue like a disappointed parent as he wrote more on his clipboard. "That's because you aren't trying them," he replied as he used his quill to poke Smithy in the ribs. "Something as simple as a catchy song on the radio shouldn't be enough to set you off. It's not healthy."
Smithy spat at the doctor for his insults. "Ya wanna talk 'bout healthy!" she screamed, making Dr. Crane back away. "Not knowin' where mah daughter is ain't healthy! Not hearin' from mah son and mama ain't healthy! Not knowin' whats goin' on with mah partner ain't healthy! Not knowin' what's goin' on with mah property ain't healthy! I'm stuck in here with no contact with anypony I care 'bout, and it's makin' me go bonkers, and that ain't healthy! Ya don't need no fancy schoolin' to know all that!"
Dr. Crane used his magic to hold Smithy down. "Breath now, in and out," he said in a vain attempt to ease Smithy's hysterical crying. "You'll hyperventilate if you don't calm down. I don't want you to hurt yourself."
Smithy let out a blood curdling scream that echoed through the prison. "I'm hurtin' alright!" she shouted, spit flying out of her mouth due to the force of her voice. "This here's all mah fault! I done put mah kin in danger fer nothin', and now I don't even know if they're safe! So don't ya dare go tellin' me I'm gonna get hurt!"
Once again, talking to the mare had failed. Fearing for himself and his patient, Dr. Crane magically lifted a syringe full of sedative drugs. "I hate having to do this to you every time I come here," he said as he held the needle in front of Smithy for her to see.
Smithy rolled on her side as best she could in her restraints, sticking her rump up in preparation for the shot of sedative. "Stick it!" she said with a vindictive growl. "It's the only good thing I got goin' fer me. Maybe one day y'll gimme too much and all our problems'll be done with."
Dr. Crane levitated the needle away from his overly eager patient. "Interesting," he said as he scribbled more on the clipboard. "Patient is showing signs of asthenic personality disorder, and of chemical dependency."
Smithy writhed about in her restraints as the sedative needle was put away. "What are ya waitin' fer!" she wailed. "T'ain't like I'm gonna be cooperative! Stick me already and get it over with!"
Dr. Crane had the guard open the cell door before using his magic to put a tight muzzle over Smithy’s mouth. "We will continue this session at a later time when you have learned to calm yourself down," he explained, using his magic to tighten the straps on Smithy's restraints to keep her from bashing herself against the wall. "Until then, remember your breathing exercises. I'll be back when you are ready to talk. Until then just remember, I'm listening."
The Apple grandchildren were in shock to read the articles taped in the scrapbook that were written during their grandmother's time in prison. Granny Smith smoothed out the Equestria Times article that had covered her trial. “I thought I was a goner,” she explained as she read about being found guilty. “I spent a whole six months in jail thinkin’ I’d never see anypony again. I was scared fer Kizzy, and I couldn’t do nothin’ from jail to help her. And that dog goned doctor didn't help with his snoopin' 'round neither. Thanks to him, I got a lil' too comfortable with them sedatives like I did with alcohol."
Having learned about drugs in Miss Cheerilee's class, Apple Bloom was shocked to hear her grandmother had to fight such a terrible battle in such an awful place. "Yer okay now, right granny?" she asked innocently.
Granny Smith was happy to give her worried granddaughter a comforting hug. "Darned tootin' I am!" she exclaimed, glad to see a smile return to Apple Bloom's face. "'Course I got that fella Focus to thank fer that. If it weren’t fer him, I’d probably still be in Foalsom…”
Dr. Crane and the prison guards passed Smithy's cell frequently, making sure that there was nothing in her cell to assist her in suicide. She had made attempts on her life since the failed trial, and it was their intention to see her go the full course on her punishment. The guards had to force her to eat, otherwise she would have gladly starved to death. Her weight had dropped significantly since the start of her prison sentence, dropping to a dangerously unhealthy level.
While Dr. Crane did his best to ween Smithy off of the sedative addiction he had accidentally given her, he still forced her to take medication to calm her iritic behavior. Otherwise the guards would have had a stark raving lunatic to deal with.
The days were becoming a blur to Smithy, so much so that she no longer bothered to read the newspaper that came with her tray of breakfast. Her days had become a dull routine of shower, eat, sleep, and nightmares that she just wished would end. Her restraints were the only thing keeping her alive at this point.
One morning, Smithy could hear several sets of hooves coming up to her cell. She was expecting to see either the guards ready to haul her to the showers, her daily tray of food and pills shoved into her cell, or Dr. Crane coming to try vainly to talk sense into her again. Instead she heard something unfamiliar thrown to the ground in front of her bars. Just hearing the new noise stirred Smithy out of her state of self-loathing.
She turned to see Princess Celestia and Focus standing before her. Celestia used her magic to loosen Smithy's restraints to allow her to see what it was that she set in her cell.
Unused to being unrestrained, Smithy reached her sore limbs above her head before rolling onto her feet. She wiped her eyes with the back of her hoof as she gingerly walked to the cell bars. “To what do I owe the pleasure of this here visit?” she said sarcastically, not even bothering to bow on her shaky limbs.
Princess Celestia slid a thick manila envelope into Smithy’s cell for her to look at. “It would appear your friend, Mr. Focus, has been a busy reporter,” she said flatly as Smithy opened the envelope and looked at photos of slave misery taking place around Equestria.
Smithy turned her moist eyes upon Focus, who smiled his support at her. “This here’s the proof I needed,” she said in a desperate whisper. “I can’t believe it iffn it weren’t right in front of mah eyes.”
Princess Celestia ended the exchange between the prisoner and the reporter. “There will be time for that later,” she said sternly. “Now that this evidence has been presented to me, I am calling for a retrial. My guards will be coming by shortly to collect you.”
Smithy could tell that the princess was feeling hurt and betrayed by the evidence presented to her by the pegasus reporter. She decided to bow down as a sign of respect, which Celestia quickly dismissed. “Yer highness?” she asked meekly, hoping not to come off as ungrateful. “Are ya alright? Ya look a lil’ upset.”
Princess Celestia turned away from the simple question. “My feelings are not what matters right now,” she replied in a very serious tone. “I only want to see this matter put to rest once and for all.”
As promised, the guards arrived and took Smithy off to her retrial. Once again, her wrists and ankles were clasped in chains, but unlike last time, Smithy was not dragged through the halls like a vagrant on her way to the castle.
There was a much smaller audience present for the retail than before. It was a relief to Celestia knowing that this trial was not being covered by every newspaper in Equestria. The press had a way of getting on her nerves, especially with how invasive they could be.
It was in the throne room that Smithy saw Crab Apple, who looked much worse for wear than she was expecting. He had grown a scraggly beard, and his eyes looked saggier from what she assumed was lack of sleep. He looked just as broken and defeated as her father did on the day of his trial. Crab Apple tried to smile for her sake as soon as he saw her, but Smithy could tell that he was having a hard time with his own imprisonment.
Up near the throne stood Carpet Bag, who looked nervous as Princess Celestia raised a hoof to calm the ponies present. She turned her attention to Focus, who was standing in front of everypony. “We will begin with these pictures you presented to me,” she said, lifting the manila envelope with her alicorn magic. “Based on the evidence you have presented to me just days ago, it would appear you have been flying all over Equestria taking pictures of cruel behavior toward zebra migrant workers. It looks like this is happening not just within this city, but nationwide.”
Focus nodded respectfully as the pictures levitated one by one out of the envelope. “Yes ma’am,” he said proudly as the photos hovered before him. “I really got my work cut out takin’ those. Da ones near da middle were taken here in Canterlot. I even got a few from your own palace zebras. Shame I couldn’t get shots of da senator here in action doin' da whippin’. I guess he gets others ta do his dirty work so creeps like me won’t catch him.”
Senator Carpet Bag ended the statement with an objection, which Princess Celestia accepted. “You are here to present evidence, Mr. Focus, not for slander,” he said. “Could this perhaps be a ploy for the Hoofington Post? I have noticed that subscriptions and sales of your newspaper have risen twenty percent since the trial six months prior.”
Focus backed off a bit due to the comment. “Yeah, I’ll get back on topic,” he replied. “I decided ta take these shots all over da kingdom after da trial ta see if what Smiddy and Crab Apple said was true. I thought it would make for a good follow up story, real juicy readin’ and such. Turned out I was onta somethin’ a lot bigger than I was barganin’ for. I started snoopin’ in every town, findin’ more and more cruelty everyplace I turned. Da last hundred or so come from Horse Shoe Bay. Dat’s where da zebras come inta Equestria.”
Celestia levitated a small selection of photos from Horse Shoe Bay in front of Carpet Bag. “Is this what happens to our esteemed guests?” she asked seriously, levitating a particularly gruesome shot in front of his eyes.
Carpet Bag bit his lower lip as he looked over the photo. “Clearly these have been staged!” he declared, pushing the photo away from his face. “Or perhaps they have been altered by magic! How could such a thing be happening behind either of our backs?”
Focus rolled his eyes as he took a roll of film out of his saddlebag. “I got da negatives,” he said as he gave them to Celestia. “Nothin’ but what I got. No stagin’, no fix ups. Just da facts.”
Crab Apple couldn’t help snickering at the comment. Smithy nudged him to stop the misbehavior, but he couldn’t help it. “He finally learns ta fact check,” he whispered in Smithy’s ear.
She put her hoof to his mouth to stop him from talking. “Just behave yerself,” she whispered back.
Carpet Bag looked over the photo negatives with disgust. “These are uncredible,” he stated. “Who in their right mind would ever agree to do something so horrific? Do you even have a witness?”
Walking up from the courtroom audience was a grimy looking griffon who politely raised his claw. “Zat witness would be moi, monsieur senator,” he said in a deep griffon accent. “I spoke with your Monsieur Focus after ze trial, and soon after we returned to ze Horse Shoe Bay. He took ze pictures zat you see before you, and several more over ze coming months.”
Carpet Bag eye balled the surprise witness. “And who are you to be making such a bold statement in the middle of our retrial?” he asked accusingly.
Once again, the griffon bowed to his superiors. “Pardonne moi for ze rude interruption, monsieur,” he replied. “I am Monsieur Guy LePeck, and I am a trader for ze Griffon Kingdom. Monsieur Focus has asked for moi to be his character reference.”
The introduction of a surprise witness had given Carpet Bag an idea. “So, Mr. LePeck,” he began, “please explain to the court why you were so willing to help our roving reporter. I do not see how hurting your own business is beneficial to you.”
LePeck chuckled slightly at the question, only to regain his composure when the princess looked his direction. “Pardone moi for ze outburst, Mademoiselle Princess,” he apologized. “You must understand zat zis is not mon first choice of a career. I became what I am because of gambling debts, and I have been repaying zem by making ze voyages with zebras. It is most unpleasant, but it is ze only way I can pay mon dues. I thought perhaps I could help end zis most unpleasant punishment by helping your reporter.”
Carpet Bag sneered at the griffin witness as he approached him. “Present us with proof of your debts, or do not dare speak anymore in this throne room,” he said angrily. “We are not stupid, Mr. LePeck. Anyone can say that they have debts that they must pay. How are we to know that you participate in our kingdom’s trade system due to debt without proof? How do we not know you are not just doing it for profit, using the tax bits of our nation to line your pockets?”
LePeck backed down after the senator’s arguments. “Pardonne moi, monsieur senator,” he apologized. “I was only trying to help make ze reference to your Monsieur Focus’s point.”
Princess Celestia broke up the argument between the griffon and her senator. “I thank you both for your contributions,” she said calmly as they quit arguing. “I believe we have other matters to attend to. Mr. Focus, you say that some of these photos come from my own castle?”
Focus picked out a few of his favorites that he had taken from within the slave quarters. “Dis one’s a beauty!” he said, bringing up a particularly gruesome photo of a zebra being whipped. “Happened right below your feet. Dis place must have some good sound deafening, ‘cause he was screamin’ his head off. Poor guy.”
Princess Celestia bit her lip as she looked at the photo, still finding it hard to believe something as horrible as this could be happening in her own home. “Senator Carpet Bag,” she said with a shaky voice, doing what she could to suppress the emotional response the photo brought her to. “Did you or anypony else condone this type of behavior?”
Carpet Bag shook his head in response. “Of course not!” he replied as he looked at the photo with the princess. “Clearly the reporter is lying. This could have been taken anywhere in the whole kingdom. We have no room like this in your entire castle. Your migrant workers live in a fine barracks with all accommodations taken care of. Not a one of them has been treated with such cruelty, nor should they ever.”
The objection was cut short as Celestia’s slave, Alabaster, entered the room. He bowed low to the princess, who was confused to see him without her having summoned him. “Alabaster, what is the meaning of this disruption?” she said to the zebra kneeling before her. “Can you not see that we are in the middle of a retrial? Would you please step aside until I need you?”
Alabaster rose slowly, this time making eye contact with the princess. “Forgive me, your grace,” he said as he began to remove his royal servants clothing.
Those present were uncomfortable as Alabaster removed layer after layer of elaborate clothing, especially Princess Celestia. “Please! This is indecent!” Celestia replied at the shameless display before her, jumping down from her throne to wrap her wings around the undressing zebra.
Alabaster continued removing his final layer against Celestia’s wishes. “Your majesty,” he said sadly as the last layer hit the ground, revealing a back full of scars. “Forgive me my behavior, but you have asked for proof of mistreatment in your castle. I bring before you only what I know is true.”
Princess Celestia gasped as she jumped away in horror from her scarred servant. “What is this?” she said as she gently touched the layers of scars on the zebra’s back, watching him wince at the fresher ones. “Who did this to you? How long has this been going on?”
Alabaster looked up at the princess with a sad smile, thankful for a chance to speak. “I have known this way of living since my youth,” he said gently, hoping to not incur the wrath of somepony who would surely take it out on him for talking out of place. “I was brought on a boat, where many died of disease. I was bought by the palace guards, and have lived in the basements ever since. When I misbehaved, I was beaten. It was there that I learned how to keep the whip off my back.”
Smithy noticed Carpet Bag begin to sweat as the truth was revealed, which was exactly what she was hoping for. Princess Celestia turned her teary eyes to the senator, who put on his best politician’s smile for her. “Is there an immigrant ship coming into port soon?” she asked in an uneasy tone.
Carpet Bag stammered at the question. “I, uh, don’t quite know,” he replied, trying to stall for time. “I fear I have left my schedule back at my office.”
From the crowd came LePeck with the answer that the princess was looking for. “Mademoiselle Princess! One will be coming in tomorrow at ze Horse Shoe Bay!” he hollered in his rustic griffon accent. “I will take you zere if you wish, if you don’t mind dirtying your hooves.”
Princess Celestia nodded gratefully to the merchant. “I thank you,” she replied, glad that the trial seemed to be getting somewhere. “If you do not mind leading the way, Mr. LePeck, we can travel on one of my royal air ships.”
The griffon gave a deep flourishing bow. “It would be an honor taking you to ze docks if you are up for le petite field trip,” he said. “Zis trade is, how you say, less zen savory among we ze poor of ze Griffon Kingdom.”
The royal airship fleet took off for Baltimare within a matter of hours. The ship itself was far more luxurious than Smithy was expecting for it to be, or at least what she saw of it was. She was not allowed to enjoy in any of the luxuries since she and Crab Apple were chained up in a pitch-black broom closet. They were still considered convicted felons in spite of the retrial, and the princess had to make sure they were not planning an escape.
Smithy spent a cramped night curled up next to Crab Apple, barely able to sleep. She could feel Crab Apple squirming beside her, which only made trying to get comfortable more difficult. “Hey, ya asleep?” she said as she turned on her stomach.
She could hear his frustrated sigh as she felt him turn over. “Yeah, sure. Like a baby,” he said sarcastically as he kicked on the closet walls. “Why can’t we just get a bed already! We ain’t animals! I ain’t slept good since dis whole thing started!”
Smithy could hear him whimpering as his kicking stopped. She felt bad that he had to go through all the hell that Foalsom could put a pony through, but there was little she could do to comfort him. He did after all do this to himself. “Ya know, ya didn’t have to jump in on the trial like ya did,” she said.
Crab Apple cracked a smile as he playfully nudged his fellow inmate. “Fogetta ‘bout it,” he replied. “We’re partners, remember? Besides, you were dyin’ out there! Dat senator woulda ate you alive if I hadn’t stepped in.”
Smithy rolled her eyes in the dark. “I dunno,” she sighed. “I just feel bad that both of us are in jail instead of just one. I’ve been losin’ mah mind worried 'bout Kizzy ever since we were found guilty. I wish I knew where she was!”
Crab Apple nudged Smithy to quiet her down. “Will you relax already?” he said. “I actually saw Salty Ron at da retrial, hid in da crowd with Lizza and Kizzy. They watched da whole thing and nopony even knew they were there. I saw ‘em get on board da aircraft before we got locked up in here too, so we know where they are.”
Smithy began to panic as soon as she heard they were aboard. “They ain’t safe!” she exclaimed, accidentally kicking Crab Apple in her panic.
He kicked back to get her to stop wiggling. “Knock it off!” he shouted crossly. “They’re fine. Lizza and Salty Ron painted themselves up like ponies. They kept Kizzy like she is so they’d look like elites with a slave. Lucky son of a buck probably got a bed ta sleep in on dis flyin’ bucket.”
Smithy was glad to know how incognito Salty Ron could be, but worrying was still in her nature. “I just don’t know what to think anymore,” she said as he held her head in her hooves. “What if this whole thing backfires? What if Carpet Bag and his fellas get there first and cover up this mess? We almost didn’t make this trip if it weren’t fer the retrial. If Focus wasn’t brave enough to step up we’d both be rottin’ in Foalsom right now.”
Crab Apple could hear Smithy crying in the darkness of the broom closet. “Calm down,” he said as he wrapped an arm around what he thought was her shoulders. “We got a lot accomplished with da princess today, more than we bargained for. So chin up, okay?”
Smithy squirmed at Crab Apple’s touch. “Uh, what are ya doin’ with mah butt?” she asked as she nudged him off.
Crab Apple threw his arm away quickly. “I thought dat was your head!” he said in his defense. “It’s dark and I found a braid. At least I didn’t confuse you for a mop!”
In spite of her looming worries, Smithy couldn’t help giggling at the mistake as she turned the other way. “So I’ve been talkin’ to yer butt this whole time?” she said with a small smile.
Crab Apple wrapped his arm around what he was now sure was Smithy’s shoulders as he let out a playful sigh. “Well I hope it was pleasant conversation,” he teased. “Dat bein’ my better half and all.”
Smithy hadn’t realized just how much she missed Crab Apple’s company. She leaned against her fellow prisoner, glad to finally have pony contact after months of isolation. “I wonder if it’s changed a lot on the outside world,” she said absentmindedly. “I can’t help thinkin' 'bout how rough it's had to have been fer mah kin."
Crab Apple shook his head, a gesture Smithy could not see. “Na, everythin’s same old same old last I heard,” he replied. “I read an article in da papers about dat musician brudder a yours. He wrote a song about bein’ a wanted pony for you, but dat’s about all I read dat interested me."
Smithy grunted her disapproval over the song. "Funny it turned into an anthem fer them thistle flanked fuss buckets," she retorted, her sneer going unseen in the dark of the closet. “Thanks to their bickerin, booze is illegal."
Crab Apple sighed at Smithy’s complaints, having missed how she would let little things get under her skin. "If dat's da worst thing dat happened while we got locked up, then I'm not dat worried," he said, resting his head on Smithy’s shoulder. “Besides, it’ll be good knowin' you can't get trashed so easy anymore. You were gettin' bad there for a while, and if I gotta be honest, it got scary."
Smithy hadn’t realized just how bad her habits had become until she was forced to dry out in Foalsom Prison. “Time in the drunk tank took care of that," she said, putting her hooves over her eyes as she remembered suffering from withdrawal. “I never thought I'd see the day that I would be past all that gettin' outta mah body, but I beat it. Hearin' mah brother’s song comin' through the guard pony's portable radio didn't make it any better though."
Crab Apple heard the song that way too, but remembered feeling far differently whenever he heard it. “I kinda liked it when it came on da radio," he explained. “It kinda gave me some hope we'd all see each other again."
Smithy was surprised to hear this reaction from Crab Apple over a song that made her heart suffer. “Ya mean that?" she asked, wishing she could see Crab Apple’s reaction in the pitch black closet.
Crab Apple nodded before realizing that she wouldn't be able to see him. “Yeah, I do," he admitted, feeling himself blushing and glad it couldn’t be seen. "You know, I actually got a chance ta meet your brudda while we were on da run before your first trial. He's a nice fella. Wife’s just as nice too, and so’s his kids. They agreed ta keep an eye on Sweet Apple Acres for us after me and da Brudderhood took off.”
It was a relief to know that somepony was keeping an eye on her property. She’d been worried that it would get broken into with nopony there. “Thanks fer takin' such good care of everythin,,” she said, nuzzling into his chest as she tried to relax on the hard floor. "I know it's been a bumpy few years, and I ain’t always been the easiest gal to get along with, but I can't tell ya how much it means that yer still so good to me.
Crab Apple breathed a heavy sigh as he rested his head on top of hers. “Yeah, you ain’t always been easy ta care about, but you know what? It’s da least I can do,” he teased gently, running his hoof over the top of Smithy’s hair. “Besides, you've been awful good ta me over da years, you know. Just ‘cause you slipped up once doesn’t mean I gotta abandon you ta rot. We’re da good guys, remember? We’re a team.”
Smithy breathed a tired sigh as she closed her eyes. “A team,” she said in a breathy tone. “I kinda like the sound of that. I don’t think I’ve told ya this before, but yer one of the best friends I ever had.”
Crab Apple was touched to hear that. “Well, I’d say da same thing, but Salty Ron beat you ta dat,” he teased. “’Course ya got heavy competition here in da closet. Just look at dis fella here, ol’ Moldy da Mop. He’s good people. How you gonna compete?”
The two ponies shared a laugh together as the mop fell upon them. Smithy laughed so hard that she snorted, which just made the fun double. “I think I made him jealous!” she teased as she lifted the mop back up. “He’s tryin’ to come between us!”
A loud knock was heard at the broom closet door. “Quiet in there!” a guard hollered. “Ponies are trying to sleep!”
The two prisoner ponies snickered at the knocking, Crab Apple finding it particularly hard to stop laughing. “We would if you didn’t keep pony eatin' mops in here!” he joked, which only prompted another round of giggles.
He about lost it when the guard smacked the door particularly hard. “Don’t make me separate you two!” the guard threatened.
Crab Apple took a deep breath to calm his hysterics. “Alright already!” he said, which seemed to please the guard.
Crab Apple once again rested his arm over Smithy’s shoulder. “We better do what da warden says,” he smiled as she rested her head against his chest again. “Who knows where he’d put us next. I don’t wanna get strung up outside da ship. I’d miss Moldy too much!”
Smithy chuckled one last time before closing her eyes. “What am I ever gonna do with y’all?” she teased.
Crab Apple smiled as he lay his head back on top of hers. “What you’re doing now is pretty nice,” he said as he kissed her on the forehead. “We’ll just let da rest play out as it does. Now get some sleep, alright? We got a lotta evidence ta find in da mornin’.”
In spite of the broom closet being cramped, dusty, and generally uncomfortable, Smithy hadn’t had a better night’s sleep in a long time. She felt safe laying next to Crab Apple the whole night, thankful to know that somepony cared about her. After the harsh months in prison, she just wanted to drink in the sensation of companionship.
She was genuinely disappointed to be awoken in the morning when the guard opened the door. “We’re here,” the guard said as he watched the two ponies shield their eyes from the abrupt introduction of daylight. "We'll be disembarking in fifteen minutes. We need to make ourselves ready, so now is the time to do it."
The two ponies were lead out of the airship and presented before Princess Celestia, Carpet Bag, Focus, and LePeck, all of whom were surrounded by the chattering media who had heard of their arrival. They were greeted by a chorus of flashing cameras and various questions by the reporters ready to capture their every word.
Princess Celestia looked around at the various reporters, trying to calm them down. She was looking forward to seeing this media circus breaking up. “Our first stop is the Horse Shoe Bay Immigration Port,” she commanded. “Are we ready to examine the migrant boats for ourselves?”
The boat could be seen from a distance as it made its way toward the harbor. Several pegasus photographers had flown ahead to be the first to get their pictures, the griffon sailors trying to shoo them away from the ship.
It took about fifteen before the ship was able to dock at Horse Shoe Bay, fifteen minutes that Smithy had worried would result in failure. If the reporters could get out there with their cameras, what was stopping Carpet Bag from informing the sailors of the upcoming inspection? Crab Apple had to keep shushing her to keep her in her place.
The ship finally docked safely, and everypony eagerly awaited their chance to see it. As the door to the slave ship opened, horrific smells started to leak out. Everypony had to hold their noses as a pair of griffons fussed through their living inventory.
Princess Celestia approached the boat with her nose covered. “Explain yourselves!” she proclaimed, surprising the griffons. The last thing they were expecting to see was the Equestrian princess approaching them. Both griffons looked dumbfounded at each other before flying away to tell their captain what was going on. Princess Celestia rolled her eyes at the cowardly display before making her way inside with a group of reporters hot on her heels.
Nopony could be prepared for what they were about to see. Row after row of zebras lay chained to posts, stacked on top of each other like cargo. The princess could see that some of them lay dead, chained up next to the living. The floors were covered in excrements, vomit, and discarded food, all of which the rats and lice were rooting around in. The smell was amplified by how hot and humid the underbelly of the ship was. A chorus of the zebra's misery could be heard from stem to stern.
Princess Celestia emitted a blue light from her horn which helped unshackle the slaves. “Somepony take care of these poor creatures,” she commanded. Several of her royal servants were eager to help, especially the zebra slaves she had unknowingly kept.
As the ship began to empty with the weakened slaves, Princess Celestia flew up to the main deck to look for the vehicle's captain. All around her, the crew mates looked at her with a sense of dread. “Where is your captain?!?" she announced to the intimidated crew.
After the crew scrambled to obey their intruder's order, the captain finally approached the princess. “Ah, Mademoiselle Princess!” he said in a charming griffon accent. “What brings you aboard mon cargo ship?”
Princess Celestia could not believe how nonchalantly the merchant captain was behaving, especially after what she had just seen. “I am conducting an investigation on the trade you and your kind partake in,” she replied in a no nonsense tone.
The captain smiled back at her, a smile she did not return. “Ah wee wee, mon princess!” he replied. “May I give you ze tour of mon prized ship?”
Princess Celestia shook her head at the offer. “That will not be necessary,” she said. “I have seen more than enough of your vesicle, thank you very much. Though if you wish to be helpful to me, you could show me where you go with your… delivery.”
The captain was more than happy to be of service until he noticed that his cargo was outside in the open. “Quelle dommage!” he shouted as he flew overboard to look into the bowels of his ship, the princess flying close behind him. “Mon cargo! Zere is nothing left! Why did zey get let out without mon permission?”
He called out to his crew, who were intimidated by the tall pony princess who had taken it upon herself to empty out the ship with her magic. One griffon whispered the news in his native tongue to the captain, who was livid with anger. “Zut alors!” he shouted at full temper. “Mademoiselle, how dare you steal mon cargo! Moi livelihood was aboard zis ship!”
While the princess understood his conundrum, she still had a point she was trying to make. “You will be compensated for your losses,” she assured the captain. “Hopefully soon you will be able to make a living transporting morally sound goods to our kingdom. In the mean time, please help me continue this investigation.”
The captain gave Celestia a dirty look, which the press was eager to take pictures of. The princess had a feeling that he was going to be stubborn from here on out. “Rest assured, captain,” she said, putting a pleasing smile on to ease his attitude, “your cooperation will be handsomely rewarded. Perhaps double what your cargo would have brought you should your attitude improve.”
The mention of extra money put an instant smile on the ornery captain’s face. “Sacre bleu!” he exclaimed before kissing the princess’s hoof. “Ah, such a deal! I will be ze perfect guide for you, mademoiselle!”
Princess Celestia lowered her hoof from his ridiculous kissing. “Spare me the showmanship,” she said. “I want to see the truth about what goes into your profession, not be paraded around like a tourist. Do I make myself perfectly clear?”
With the captain’s full understanding, he lead the way to the next stop known as the Immigration Travel Bureau. “Zis is where our inventory is inspected, mademoiselle,” he said as he opened a door to a large warehouse.
Princess Celestia could see several ponies inspecting the chained zebras with doctor’s equipment. Each pony set down what they were doing to bow to the princess. The zebras on the other hoof looked confused about the whole thing.
Princess Celestia dismissed the bows so that the worker ponies could get back to what they were doing. “Are they certified doctors?” she asked as she watched a pony force a zebra’s mouth open with a tongue depressor. “Forgive my curiosity, but I have my doubts judging by some of these cutie marks.”
The captain nodded enthusiastically at the question. “But of course!” he replied optimistically. “It is ze pony’s jobs to make sure ze inventory is in fine condition to put on ze market. Any ziggler who is in need of medicine or food is given what zey need so zat zey will fetch a good price. If zey do not heal, well, zat is for ze ocean to decide, yes? Ze dying have to go somewhere.”
Princess Celestia had seen enough of this building, and enough of the medical malpractice contained within it. “What is the next stop on our tour?” she said as she watched a zebra yelp at receiving a painful shot.
The captain held the door open for the princess, the press, and the rest. “We are on to what is called ze Department of Job Placement,” he said. “Such a pretty name for a marketplace, non? Your senator Carpet Bag says it sound less like a marketplace and more like an official branch of ze immigration. He is, how you say, clever, yes?”
Princess Celestia looked down in disgust at her once trusted senator, who she had ordered the guards to detain. “I once felt the same way,” she said, watching as Carpet Bag backed down like a colt in trouble.
To keep herself incognito in the next department, Princess Celestia ducked down low and wrapped a scarf around her mane. “I want to get an honest judgement of this place instead of differential treatment," she explained, covering her crown with the gauzy fabric. “I need you all to crowd around me to keep me from making a scene."
While Smithy and Crab Apple were confused by this latest development in the investigation, they chose not to question it. They saw how ponies reacted in the Immigration Travel Bureau, and had a feeling that the princess knew what she was doing. Thankfully, sneaking the large princess into the building was easier than they expected because of how busy the place was.
Inside the Department of Job Placement was pure pandemonium. There was a stage alight with an auctioneer pony who was presenting each zebra for the crowd to bid on. He was boasting each lot of slaves like he was selling a fine piece of property.
In the next lot was a slender female zebra, who the auctioneer played up as something special for any of the gentlemen in the audience to enjoy. Princess From her crouched position, Celestia turned to the griffon captain as the bidding began for the prized zebra. “Is this normal behavior?” she gasped.
The captain let out a jolly chuckle at the question. “But of course!” he replied. “Ze salesponies must make ze zigglers sound, how you say, appealing to ze buyer. Otherwise zey would never be sold! You would not want to buy something zat sounds bad, yes?”
The captain shrugged his shoulders at the princess’s angry looks. “You have not gone to market before?” he asked, noticing the princess’s nose crinkling in anger. “Ah, you have missed all ze fun! Of course ze females, zey go for a high price to ze buyers. Ah, zey are a treat here in ze marketplace, especially ones like zat one on ze stage. Such a prize! It has been too long since a ziggler has warmed mon bed.”
Princess Celestia picked up the captain and shook him violently. “How dare you defile them!” she screamed, getting the attention of everypony in the Department of Job Placement. The bidding patrons and auctioneers bowed the minute they saw the leader of Equestria in the back, all noise reduced to whispers Within minutes, the room was so quiet that one could hear a pin drop.
Princess Celestia stormed out of the Department of Job placement, her entourage following close behind. Making a mental inventory of all the places she knew would have to be shut down, she asked to see what else there was to see.
The captain once again held the door open for the princess to enter into the next building. “One last stop, mademoiselle,” he said enthusiastically, eager to be done with his impromptu touring job. “It is a building where two departments are kept. One is ze Department of Immigration, but zat is nothing but papers and files. Ze other is much more exciting. It is ze Department of Revenue, where I get paid.”
The last building was not far away from the glorified marketplace. Celestia noticed a secretary pony chewing gum and filing a hoof from behind the comfort of her desk. The secretary set down her hoof file before bowing to the princess.
Celestia quickly picked up the bowing secretary with her alicorn magic so that they could be eye to eye. “Lead me to the Department of Immigration, and to the Department of Revenue,” she ordered. After all of the horrors she had seen today, she was ready to have the case closed.
Doing as she was instructed, the secretary lead the princess to a large storeroom with drawers and boxes full of paperwork. “Dis here’s da Department a Immigration,” she said sarcastically as she blew a bubble with her chewing gum. “It’s a glorified filing system your majesty. You wanna dig around in it, be my guest. Just make sure you put everythin' back where it came from. I don’t wanna get chewed out for your mess, you got it your majesty?”
Princess Celestia turned to some members of her government who had made the trip. “I need some of you to begin going through these files,” she ordered. “Look for anything useful to use in this case. We will also need to build a case against the griffon king for these misdeeds. Is this clear?” Several officials saluted before going into the arduous task of scavenging.
The secretary lead the group to another room filled with safety deposit boxes and a large wall safe. “Dis here’s your Department a Revenue, or as da locals call it, da Department a Payday,” she joked, noticing that nopony seemed to get her sense of humor. “You can root through it all you want, but don’t take anythin’! We got guards posted in here for a reason you know.”
The princess nodded her thanks to the secretary. “I appreciate your assistance,” she said. “I believe that will be all I need from you for now. Where can I find you if I need you again?”
The secretary pointed down the hallway. “Front desk,” she said. “Now I gotta get back ta dis chipped hoof before it drives me crazy.”
With the secretary walking back to her desk to finish her hooficure, Celestia was once again able to turn to Carpet Bag. “Is this where you keep your accounting books?” she asked.
Carpet Bag was shaking at all the evidence piling up against him. “Why of course not, your majesty!” he lied, his politician’s smile failing him.
One of the other politician ponies pulled a book from the shelves with the senator’s writing in it. “I believe this is what you’re looking for, your majesty,” he said as he set the book before them.
Carpet Bag gulped as he watched the princess levitate the book in front of her face. He could not tell what it was that she was thinking due to the book obscuring her face. He heard her make a low whistle before she once again made eye contact. “Embezzlement?” she asked. “On top of all the power, all the wealth, all the societal stature I gave you, you felt you needed more?”
Carpet Bag collapsed on the floor in tears, begging at the princess’s feet. “Forgive me!” he cried. “I did it for our allies in the Griffon Kingdom! I did it to keep trade routes open! I knew the extra money had to come from somewhere, so I embezzled and cooked the books so that nopony would get hurt! The Griffon Kingdom is a powerful nation, and the king is an angry tyrant! The money had to come from somewhere, I swear! I invested much of my own money into this to keep peace between our two nations, but it just wasn’t enough!”
Princess Celestia had seen enough. “Guards, take him away from my sight,” she commanded. “Senator Carpet Bag, you will be put in Foalsom Prison until further notice to await your trial. As of this moment, you will be stripped of your political titles and influences. If you would like to redeem yourself you will help us build a case against the Griffon Kingdom for slave trafficking. Is this understood?”
Smithy and Crab Apple stood back and watched Carpet Bag weeping bitter tears as he was dragged down the hallway by the strong earth pony guards. They winced as he let out a final desperate scream before the door closed behind him, remembering how something like that felt.
Princess Celestia stood by them to watch the pathetic display. “I must thank the two of you,” she said with a sad sigh as the former senator was dragged out of sight. “It is hard to believe that somepony I trusted so much could betray me like this. Tell me, is there anything else that I am being kept in the dark about?”
Smithy looked to Crab Apple, who just shrugged his shoulders. “I surely can’t think up nothin’, yer majesty,” she replied. “If I hear anythin’, I’ll surely come a knockin’ on yer door.”
For the first time that day, Princess Celestia let out a sincere smile. “You have an honest nature to you, Granny Smith,” she said. “Have you ever thought of becoming a politician? I could use honest ponies in my government.”
The very notion shocked Smithy, especially after so much time in prison. “Oh, I don’t know,” she blushed at the offer. “Iffin’ I gotta be honest, I just wanna go home to mah mama, son, and daughter. It’s been a right long time since I’ve seen ‘em, and I want us to be a family again.”
The princess acknowledged her request with a simple bow. “That is very noble of you,” she said. “Mr. Crab Apple, would you like to take her place in politics? You have a very brazen style about you that is sure to capture the voter’s attention.”
Crab Apple was just as equally floored by the offer. “Wow, dat’s a big change,” he said humbly, rubbing the back of his head as he tried to process the offer. “I gotta think somethin’ like dat over before I just jump in on it. Mind if I mull it over for a while?”
The princess’s smile beamed upon the two of them. “You are both free to think the offers over,” she said. “In the mean time, I would like your opinions on what we should do with this slave problem.”
Crab Apple chuckled at the royal request. “Havin’ us make political decisions already?” he joked, much to Celestia’s joy.
Princess Celestia's musical laughter was refreshing after such a serious morning. “I don’t like to waste time,” she said with a wink. “I would assume you are both the experts after all.”
The Apple grandchildren were happy to hear that their grandmother had finally gotten what she had worked so hard for. They read over the coverage of Carpet Bag's fall from political grace in the newspaper clippings Granny Smith had kept from The Equestrian Times, Hoofington Post, The Local Bit, The Daily Movement, and many more.
Apple Bloom eagerly skimmed the newspaper clippings and political cartoons showing the scandal. “Mah Granny Smith really is super special!” she exclaimed as she watched her grandmother blush. “So everythin’ worked out just fine, didn’t it?”
While Granny Smith was grateful for the changes she had helped put into motion, she understood that it wasn’t going to be an easy transition. “Big changes don’t always go over smooth,” she explained. “Zebras were a much bigger part of the economy than I’d reckoned at the time."
Granny Smith showed her grandchildren a political cartoon drawn in the newspaper showing a laughing group of zebras with money related cutie marks waving travel vouchers at starving farmers. “With the new bill prohibitin’ the importation and use of slaves in Equestria, slave owners were none too happy," she explained. "It took a mighty big hit on their businesses, and it just added more to the hate they felt fer zebras…”
Princess Celestia made sure to spread the word throughout her kingdom for any liberated zebra to go to the nearest train station in their town to get vouchers allowing free passage to the docking town of Baltimare. Once in Baltimare, they were to show their ticket train ticket stubs to dock workers, allowing them to board a return ship to Zebrica.
To compensate farms and businesses for the loss of zebra workers, Princess Celestia bequeathed that any former slave owner would receive a tax break on their businesses. Any zebra wishing to stay in Equestria of their own free will was instructed to go to the local mayor’s office in their town to register for citizenship.
Smithy had spent the next two weeks in a haze as she and Crab Apple went from meeting to meeting with the princess. They were photographed with her as she signed what she called the Equal Liberty Proclamation, meaning that any sentient being was allowed the same rights and freedoms as any other Equestrian. They were also present for a heated argument with the king of the Griffon Kingdom, who was very dissatisfied over the economic strains the new proclamation would put on his kingdom. The Middle Passage slave trade was a major source of income for the Griffon Kingdom, so cutting it off was seen as a declaration of war.
Any precious time that Smithy had to herself she spent with Kizzy, who she found out was kept safe and sound in the Brotherhood of Steed’s many hideouts. Lizza even backed off so that the two of them could enjoy their time together as mother and daughter. Lizza was more eager to spend that time romantically with Salty Ron anyway. Kizzy had plenty of questions for her mother, all of which Smithy was glad to finally answer.
Taking a break from the routine of press conferences and royal affairs, Smithy and Crab Apple thought it would be nice to have lunch with Kizzy, Lizza, and Salty Ron. They were having a surprisingly hard time finding a place that would give service to zebras. They eventually settled on a café half way across Canterlot that would allow them service only if they ate outside.
After they ordered their food, they sat and waited over half an hour for their order to be taken, and an additional half hour without having their food served or drinks refilled. By then, Crab Apple was getting frustrated with the rude waiter's bad attitude. “What’s da hold up!” he eventually shouted as soon as he saw the waiter rush by. “Sandwiches and salads can’t take dis long!”
The waiter threw down the rag he was using to wipe off a nearby table. “We’re short staffed, you idiot!” he hollered back. “Ever since you two decided to get all goodie goodie, we had to let go of our kitchen zigglers! Now we can’t afford to hire more staff! I wouldn’t be surprised if this place goes out of business soon thanks to you two!”
Crab Apple went nose to nose with this waiter. “Whatsa matter!” he shouted. “Weren’t competent enough on your own?”
Smithy pulled Crab Apple away from the potential fight. “Just let him get back to work,” she sighed, having seen this kind of behavior on the rise around Canterlot. “The sooner he gets back to work, the sooner we can get our food and leave.”
The waiter came back five minutes later with a tray full of food. “Here!” he said as he slammed the plates down along with the bill in the center of the table. “Sort it out yourself, and pay your bill on the way out. Enjoy!”
Smithy reached for the bill, which was covered in food that had fallen off the plates. “This fella sure blew his tip,” she said as she cleared the food away. She gasped as soon as she read what it had to say. “A hundred bits! Fer this! This fella’s gotta be crazy!”
Lizza reached for her salad, checking it for any ill treatment. “We should not stay for desert,” she said as she lifted a few leaves covered in spit.
Kizzy spat out a bite of her sandwich before lifting the bread. “There is dirt on my food!” she exclaimed as she wiped her tongue with her napkin.
It appeared that the waiter had sabotaged the meal out of spite, because everypony had something gross in their food. Crab Apple threw his sandwich down on the ground, only to watch a few bugs crawl out of it. He then stormed off to the front door and hollered inside, “Lemme talk ta da manager!”
While Crab Apple waited for a manager to come out, Kizzy began to squirm in her chair. “Mother, I need to use the outhouse,” she said uncomfortably.
Smithy looked around for a sign to point them out. “Looks like it’s in the back,” she said, pointing to where the sign said.
Kizzy politely excused herself before running off to relieve herself. She was just about to open the door to the outhouse when she felt someone slam it shut. Looking up, she could see the rude waiter leering down at her. “And just where do you think you’re going?” he asked in a condescending tone.
Kizzy stared wide eyed in fear at the overpowering pony. “I need to use the outhouse, sir,” she said meekly.
The waiter looked her right in the eye, which made her cower even more. “Do you see what it says on the door?” he said, pointing to the sign.
Reading was never Kizzy’s strongest skill. Slaves were often uneducated, so she barely knew how to read or write. “Outhouse?” she guessed.
The waiter was livid with her response. “You think this is some kind of joke?” he retorted, scaring Kizzy so much that she covered her eyes. “It says ‘ponies’ on it, you dunce! You can’t use this one! You have to use the one that says ‘stripes’ on it!”
Kizzy ran to where the waiter said the correct outhouse was. She watched him as she opened up the door to the outhouse to make sure that she had the right one, and crinkled up her nose at the smell coming out of it. “It is dirty, sir!” she said as she backed away and held her nose.
The waiter grabbed her and threw her into the outhouse. “Well so are you!” he said as he slammed the door, holding it closed and laughing cruelly as Kizzy cried to be let out.
Salty Ron came up from behind and punched the waiter in the head. “You do not treat her like that!” he hollered. “We will take your abuse no more! We will leave now!”
He opened the door to see Kizzy crying and covered in excrement. “Come with me, child,” he said gently as she walked out embarrassed. “Do not worry. We will clean you. This pony will no longer hurt you.”
The group quickly hightailed it out of the café, making a mental note to talk to the princess about what had happened. They quickly found a hose on the side of a building that they used to rinse Kizzy off.
Smithy wiped her daughter’s face with a handkerchief to help her feel cleaner. “I’m sorry ya had to go through all that,” she apologized. “Seems like more and more places are startin’ to do this since y’all got yer freedom. T’ain’t fair, but don’t ya worry none. Mama’s still loves ya and nothin’s gonna change that!”
Kizzy hugged her mother, still crying and embarrassed by how she was treated at the café. “Will ponies treat me like this forever?” she cried.
Lizza gently ran her hoof through Kizzy's mane, adding her own frustration to the mix. “Hate does not vanish all at once, my child,” she explained. “We may have our freedom, but it comes at a price.”
Kizzy wiped at her eyes as she looked up at the two adults. “Would we be treated better in Zebrica?” she asked.
The question struck Smithy right in the heart. After all that she worked for, after the truth was finally out in the open, after she was able to finally be a mother to her daughter, Kizzy wanted to leave. “Are ya sure that’s what ya want?” she said, her heart in her throat.
Kizzy could see how much this idea hurt her mother. “I do not know,” she replied. “What I do know is that I am still not free in this land, and I do not know if I will ever be. I want to be where I can choose the life that I want.”
Smithy knew deep down that these were valid reasons for how her daughter felt. It wouldn’t be long before Kizzy was a grown woman, and she wondered what kind of life she would have in a land that did not want her. “Why don’t ya think 'bout it on our way back to Ponyville,” she said. “Iffn’ ya still feel the same than y’all can pack up and leave.”
Coming home to Sweet Apple Acres had never felt so good. After being away for so long, Smithy couldn't help soaking in every detail as she slowly walked toward the old house.
Prairie Tune and his family had been on the road touring their latest concert, so the farm had been left unattended to for months. The grass was overgrown, the windows on the house we're all dark, the barn needed a fresh coat of paint, the barn stalls would need to be cleaned and have fresh straw put in, the fields would need plowing, the apple trees needed bucking, the list went on and on.
While the thought of catching up on so many chores would sound like a never ending struggle, Smithy was excited to tackle the upcoming to do list. She rested an arm over Kizzy's shoulder as they walked up the steps, sharing a smile between the two of them as they listened to the floor boards on the porch moaning under their weight. "Sure feels good to be home," Smithy said as she opened up the front door and breathed in the musty smell of an unkept house.
While Kizzy was glad to see her mother looking so contented, the sheer look of the place felt distant and uninhabited. It was dark inside, smelled abandoned, and was a bit too quiet for comfort. Between the accumulated dust, cracked windows, and spider webs hanging everywhere, she was reminded of the empty warehouses that she, Lizza, and Salty Ron had hidden in while her mother was locked away in prison.
Not wanting to think of her own home as just another place to stay hidden away from society, Kizzy put on a bright smile for her mother's sake. “Where shall we begin?" she asked, watching her mother prance around the living room.
Smithy quickly opened up a window to let in some fresh air, breathing it in deeply before letting out a big sneeze. “We better start dustin'," she replied, making use of her handkerchief.
It didn't take long for the dusting to begin, followed closely by the sneezing. While all the windows were open to help with the dust, there was just so much of it that it was difficult to get anything done in good time without the aid of handkerchiefs.
Kizzy hung her head out of Filthy Rich's bedroom window as she shook the dust off of one of his teddy bears, sneezing from the dust hanging in the air. "So dusty, you poor bear," she said with another sneeze as she watched dust shake off of the old toy. "I am certain that Master Filthy Rich will be glad to see you clean again. I hope that he will be glad to see you too."
Smithy watched as sadness crept onto Kizzy's face as her daughter looked at the stuffed animal she had just cleaned off. "Now Kizzy," she said as she passed her daughter a handkerchief for her nose, "Filthy Rich is yer lil' brother, not yer master."
Kizzy hugged the teddy bear close to her chest, leaning her head against the bear's as she held it close. "I know that he is, mother," she admitted, having a hard time keeping her composure. "I want more than anything for him to see me as his sister, and not as his slave. I am ashamed to say this about my own brother."
Smithy drew her daughter into a hug. "Ya ain't got nothin' to be ashamed 'bout," she said, kissing Kizzy on the forehead. "Ya've had it awful rough, but it's gonna be fine. Just ya wait and see."
Kizzy buried her eyes into the teddy bear's head, wetting it down with her now free flowing tears. "I worry about him," she explained. "When you were away, everypony was so cruel to us. Even now, I am still not accepted. I do not know if my own brother will treat me as he wishes to be treated, just as other ponies do not choose to do so."
Smithy held her daughter and gently rocked her in her arms, listening to Kizzy's uneven, distressed breathing. "Hey now, he ain't all bad," she said, trying to remember the good in a son she hadn't seen in years. "Ya gotta understand, his daddy was such a big influence on him when he was just a boy, and his daddy was a real bad man. He made some terrible choices that effected a whole lotta ponies, but that's the life he chose to live. Filthy Rich is his own pony, and I reckon with mah mama and his uncles 'round, he's grown himself up into a right goodin' by now."
Kizzy looked around the room at the dusty, neglected toys and knick knacks, several of which Filthy Rich had surely outgrown by now. "How much do you think he has changed?" she asked, looking at the teddy bear's face as if she was looking at her brother.
Smithy sighed as she stroked her daughter's hair. "Hard tellin'," she replied. "He ain't written back to me in ages. When he did, he kept tellin' me he wanted to come home and how he was awful sore 'bout everythin' that happened with his daddy. I couldn't give him any answers back then, which is mah fault. But now that I can, I wanna set things right. It's just gonna take some time and some gettin' used to is all."
Kizzy set the teddy bear down on a side table next to some toys she hadn't cleaned yet, noticing an immediate difference between them. "I just want to be accepted as I am. Why must that be so much to ask?" she said, turning away from the teddy bear standing out among the other toys. "I know you say that this will take time, but how much time must I give?"
Smithy was dying to give her daughter an answer, but there was little she could say to make the situation better. Her mouth opened and closed several times as she tried to form the words needed to comfort her child, but nothing seemed to come out. Even with the color of her own coat being solid like the rest of Equestrians, she understood how it felt to have to fight for her destiny and have it end up disappointing her rather than fulfilling her.
Kizzy wiped her eyes with the back of her hoof as she began to walk out of the bedroom. "I want to see my bees," she said, her head held low as she passed her mother. "They have always treated me as one of them. Perhaps it is my destiny that my stripes are yellow and black. Perhaps I am more of a queen bee than a dirtied zebra. They see the content of my character instead of the stripes of my coat."
Smithy watched her daughter walk down the hallway with her head hung low. She wanted more than anything to say something to uplift Kizzy's spirit, but what could she say at this point? It reminded her so much of how her own spirit was broken when she found Bladire dead in the Everfree Forest. It took her years to regain her zest for life, and even then it wasn't the same.
Smithy jumped the moment she felt a hoof on her shoulder. She turned quickly to see Lizza standing beside her, her expression surprisingly soft compared to the many looks she had received from the zebra over the years. Still, being in Lizza's presence had a way of making her feel frustrated, especially after years of being shadowed by her. "Oh, what do ya want now, ya tired old wrath?" she groaned.
Lizza huffed, offended as she quickly lowered her hoof from Smithy's shoulder. "I had no intention of offending, misses," she said, her expression hardening in offense as she backed away.
Smithy rolled her eyes as she stamped her hoof. "Would ya lay off the 'misses' nonsense!" she shouted. "I thought we were past that, fer cryin' out loud! Can't ya see how hard this kinda thing is on everypony!"
Lizza's expression softened again as she watched Smithy begin to tear up, realizing that she had brought the response upon herself from years of arguments. "Please, forgive me," she said, giving Smithy her space. "I am afraid that old habits die hard."
Smithy was angry with herself for getting upset so quickly. "Boy, ya sure hit the nail on the head there," she snuffled, frustratedly wiping her face with the back of her hoof. "That's the problem. Kizzy's unhappy with how ponies are treatin' folks like yerself, and it ain't gettin' better. She's afraid her brother's gonna be just like that."
Lizza exhaled her frustration as she sat down beside Smithy. "She has good reason to be concerned," she said, handing Smithy a handkerchief. "Master Rich was cruel to us, and his son thrilled in treating Kizzy with cruelty. You ask her to forget such things, yet if her brother does not, she will be left to his mistreatment again."
Smithy knew that Lizza was right, but hearing it wasn't easy. "I've been tryin' so hard to get mah family back together, and now it feels like it's fallin' apart," she said, wiping her eyes. "So what am I gonna do now?"
Lizza set a reassuring hoof on Smithy's, which surprised the both of them. "You should let her decide for herself what is best for her," she said, watching a tear roll down Smithy's cheek. "She will be grown soon. You have fought and suffered for her freedom to choose. It would be best to honor that."
The two of them walked up to the window, looking down at Kizzy. She was crying as she tapped on the bee hive boxes, watching as nearly nothing came out.
Smithy rested her head on her hooves as she looked at how unhappy her daughter was. "It is her choice, ain't it?" she whimpered.
Lizza gently shook her former mistress. "It is, thanks to you, Smithy," she said, a smile spreading across her face.
Before she knew it, Smithy wrapped her arms around her old adversary. She could feel Lizza hugging her back, something she never would have expected. "I'm so sorry fer everythin' I put y'all through," she wept.
Lizza squeezed her eyes closed as she hugged her former mistress. “You are forgiven," she whimpered, breathing heavily at the sudden need to express herself. “Please, if there is anything that I can do to help you through this difficult time, I will do all that I can to help you."
Smithy broke away from the embrace slowly, taking a turn in wiping away her tears. "Just help me with Kizzy," she requested. "No matter what she chooses, she'll need us both."
With a renewed sense of comoradery between the two of them, Smithy and Lizza walked outside to check on Kizzy. They found her laying in the overgrown grass near the bee hives, sniffling as she watched a bee ambling around on her hoof.
Kizzy could hear the two approaching her. She didn't bother looking up at them with her wet eyes, finding it hard to contain her emotions as the bee on her hoof stung her. “The bees," she wept, watching the bee fly away with its stinger missing. “They are gone. Only a few remain, and they are lost and confused as if they were left behind."
Smithy could see how hesitant Lizza was about approaching Kizzy, and not just because of the few bees present. It was horrible seeing Kizzy look so defeated, especially after years of telling her how much better her life would be after they had finally reached their goal.
Smithy sat down in the tall grass beside her crying daughter. She rubbed Kizzy's back absentmindedly, lost for words as she listened to Kizzy hiccuping just like she did when she cried too much.
There was a long silence between the mother and daughter as Kizzy focused on the bee that stung her crawling helplessly on the outside of the hive wall. She lifted her head up as soon as she saw it fall away from the hive, tenderly wrapping her hoof around it as it lay in the grass for the last moments of its life. “Shhhhh," she cooed, listening to the bee's last buzzing sounds become quieter and quieter. “You are with a friend now. Go to your peace knowing that you are loved, my friend."
Smithy was surprised to see her daughter behaving so tenderly to one insignificant little insect, treating it with kindness and compassion even after it had hurt her. She sat silently as the bee's buzzing finally stopped.
Kizzy brushed away a layer of dirt to bury the bee's body in. She then extracted the stinger from her hoof with her teeth and gently lay it next to the bee. “I forgive you for the pains that you caused," she whimpered to the bee before covering it over with dirt. “It pains me to see that the hurt you caused lead to your end, but now you can rest knowing that you have been forgiven."
Once the impromptu burial was completed, Kizzy put a small twig in the ground at the head of the freshly dug grave of the bee, a stick to be remembered by. She got up from the place where the bee lay to rest to brush the dirt from her hooves. “I am sorry that you had to see this," she apologized to her mother. “I know that you have seen so much death in your life. I know that it is silly to be saddened over the life of a bee."
Smithy shook her head at the notion. “Ain’t nothin' wrong with bein' respectful of the dead, even if they hurt ya before they go," she said, looking down at the care that went into the little grave. “Shows an awful big content of yer character to treat others well, even after all that."
Kizzy sighed deeply as she sat next to her mother to watch what bees remained, happy to feel her mother's arm resting on her shoulder. “Why would they want to leave?" she asked absentmindedly, watching a bee fly out of a hole in the hive box. "I always treated them so well when I was here."
Smithy could feel her daughter rest her head on her shoulder. She returned the gesture by resting her cheek against Kizzy's forehead. “Bees are kinda funny that way," she explained as best she could. “They’re kinda like youngins iffn ya think 'bout it. They like to go out on their own to seek their fortune, sometimes findin' what they really want, and sometimes not. Heck, some never leave the hive at all, like yer lil' friend ya just gave that nice burial too."
Kizzy sighed again as she listened to her mother talk. “Do you think they will return?" she asked, watching the bee fly back into the hive after failing to find a flower.
Smithy gently shrugged her shoulders, careful not to knock Kizzy's head away. “Hard tellin," she said in response to her daughter’s question. “That’s the thing 'bout life. Ya think ya know, then it turns out that ya don’t have all the answers like ya thought ya did. Just like the bees in yer hive here, ya gotta figure out if ya wanna stick 'round and play it out, or see if yer answers are out there someplace else."
Kizzy lifted her head up off of her mother's shoulder so that they could see each other eye to eye. “Are you saying that I should go?" she asked, so shocked that she was nearly breathless.
While her heart ached to be talking about the possibility of losing her daughter to the big wide world, Smithy knew it wasn't her decision. “I’m sayin' it's yer choice," she explained, letting her eyes leak as she spoke. “Yer free to do what ya like now, remember? Celestia’s orders. Just don't ferget that yer always welcome to fly on back to the hive if ya ever want to. There's always a place fer ya here iffn ya choose it."
Kizzy embraced her mother into a strong hug. “Thank you, mother," she cried with tears of joy. “I feared upsetting you so much that I did not know what to say, but I also fear losing you."
By now, Smithy was shaking with emotions. “Ya can’t lose what's stuck in yer heart," she replied, holding her daughter close. "Ya may be miles apart, but yer memories are nice and close."
Kizzy wiped her face with the back of her hoof, embarrassed by how much of a mess she looked. “We should rest," she suggested. “There will be much to prepare for."
Smithy agreed as she and Kizzy left the hives behind them to rejoin an overjoyed Lizza. Rest would be what she needed, especially with what she now knew was inevitable.
The Apple grandchildren crowded around Granny Smithy, watching as streams of tears poured down her wrinkled old cheeks. She held her precious grandchildren tight as she as she turned to the ticket stubs taped to the scrapbook pages. “She decided to go,” she said in a sad whisper. “I couldn’t stop her even if I wanted to, and I did want to. But it was her decision, her life, not mine. I had fought fer her freedom to make her own choices, and I’d be a hypocrite to keep her from that. I just wish I coulda seen her again, but after that she was gone ferever.”
Big Macintosh’s heart ached for his grandmother’s loss. “Eeyup,” he said as he held his crying grandmother. “Sounds to me like ya made the right choice. Ya think she’d have been happier if she’d stayed?”
Granny Smith shook her head a she blew her nose on what was becoming a very gross handkerchief. “I dunno,” she said with a deep, sad sigh. “Segregation was gettin’ crazier and crazier 'round Equestria, and sad to say it’s still goin’ on today. It sure didn’t help that stories kept poppin’ up in the paper ‘bout zebras whose masters were tryin’ to keep ‘em against their will. Some of them zebras started poisonin’ their old masters to get to freedom, or settin’ up other pains so they could run away. Stories like that got rumors started spreadin’ like wildfire that zebras were practicin’ tribal witchcraft. Common folk were gettin’ scared, which just made the segregation get even worse. Kizzy didn’t want that kinda life, and neither did Lizza or Salty Ron. Ya really couldn’t blame ‘em. They were ready to go home…”
The Ponyville train station platform was filled with zebras waiting to go back to the land that bore their roots. Kizzy could barely stay still as she held onto her ticket, jabbering a mile a minute about how much she wanted to see where her father came from. “I can barely wait!” she exclaimed as she jumped up to a window to see if the train had arrived. “I hope it is as beautiful as you say it is, Lizza. I want to see it all! I hope there are bees in Zebrica!”
Lizza rested a hoof upon Kizzy’s shoulder to keep her from bouncing. “Be still, child,” she said with a soft smile. “You are stepping on the hooves of others. You do not want to cause a fuss.”
Smithy watched her daughter standing by the window, already feeling like there were miles between them. She dabbed at her eyes with a handkerchief to keep up the appearance that she wasn't bothered by letting her daughter go. She whispered a curse to herself for how much she was failing to keep up the act.
Crab Apple held Smithy’s hoof as soon as he noticed a tear rolling down her face. “Hey, it’s okay,” he whispered. “She’s gonna be fine. She’s goin’ back where she belongs, and she ain’t gonna be alone. She’ll have Lizza and Salty Ron there ta take care a her, remember?”
With all the commotion, Smithy had almost forgotten that Crab Apple was losing his best friend in the process. Salty Ron had fallen in love with Lizza, and it wouldn’t be long before they were going to have a baby of their own. “I guess Kizzy’s gonna have a lil’ brother or sister then since them two are gonna be like a mama and daddy to her,” she replied sadly.
Crab Apple lent her his handkerchief to wipe away her motherly tears, especially since Smithy’s handkerchief was sopping wet by now. “Come on, brighten up,” he said. “We don’t wanna ruin Kizzy’s adventure. It’s what she wants, remember?”
Smithy knew he was right. She smiled back at him, glad to know that he was there for support. “Thanks fer bein’ here,” she said. “I’d be a wreck if I had to do this all by mahself.”
Crab Apple took a deep breath to calm his emotions. “Ditto,” he said as he swatted at a tear that rolled around his eyelid.
The train station came alive with excitement as the train finally rolled up to the station. Kizzy rushed up to her mother and grabbed her by the hoof. “Mother! It is here!” she exclaimed, hugging her mother closely. “I am so excited, but I will miss you so much. Will you be alright?”
Smithy had to force a smile to help her daughter. “I’ll manage,” she replied. “I’m gonna miss ya everyday, but so long as I know yer happy, I’ll find a reason to keep on smilin’.”
For the first time that morning, Kizzy’s smile began to fade as she realized that this was it. She began to tear up as she hugged her mother for the last time. “I love you, mother,” she said as she buried her tearful eyes into her mother’s shoulder. “You have been so kind. I can never thank you.”
Smithy ran a hoof through her daughter’s stiff zebra mane, watching the black and yellow hairs stick back up as soon as she brushed them down. “Just keep bein’ yerself,” she said. “It’s what I always loved 'bout ya.”
Smithy reached for the onyx necklace around her neck. “I wanna give ya this,” she said as she held the precious trinket out for her daughter. “It belonged to yer auntie who I named ya after. Yer daddy gave it to me when we were separated fer the first time. Somehow it lead him back to me. Maybe one day it’ll lead us back together.”
Kizzy stared wide-eyed at the trinket as her mother put it around her neck. “Oh mother, it is so beautiful!” she exclaimed. “I will treasure it always. I promise!”
Smithy smiled as her daughter held the onyx in her hoof the same way she always used to. “Ya better be good to it!” she teased. “It’s brought me a bunch of luck, and it helped bring y’all into mah life.”
Kizzy smiled one last time before leaving. “You will look after my bees while I am gone, yes?” she teased, letting her mother tussle her hair.
Smithy laughed at the little concern as she watched zebras begin boarding the train. “I sure will, every day,” she said. “Now ya be a good girl. Mind Lizza and Salty Ron, and be sure to make some new friends when ya get there.”
Lizza approached the mother and daughter, her face uncharacteristically happy. She brushed away tears of her own as she threw her arms around her former mistress. “I can not thank you enough, Smithy," she said.
Smithy hugged back, relieved to know that all animosities between the two of them could finally be lifted. “Ya better take good care of mah girl,” she replied. “And make sure ya stay happy too. Looks like y’all are in good hands with Salty Ron.”
She watched as Crab Apple and Salty Ron exchanged their final goodbyes, trying to look as manly as they could given the emotional situation. Salty Ron gave Smithy one last hug and a sloppy kiss on the cheek. “I will be good to them, of this you can be sure,” he said. “We are in your debt of thanks.”
Crab Apple gave Kizzy and Lizza one last goodbye before their departure. “Go on, get outta here,” he said as he waved them on. “Don’t wanna miss your train!”
Smithy and Crab Apple stood at the platform until the train rolled out of sight, waving their goodbyes until the train was nothing more than a speck on the horizon. Smithy smiled longingly as she set her hoof back down on the ground. “It was a long time comin’,” she said with a big sigh.
Crab Apple turned to her to see that she had a far away look in her tear moistened eyes. “You know what?” he said as he elbowed her in the side. “I’m real proud a you. It takes guts ta do what you did. Other ponies would a crumbled, but you did good.”
Smithy blushed at the compliment. “I’d be lost without a support group,” she replied as she smiled at him. “Thanks fer stickin’ with me all this time. Celestia knows it ain’t always been easy.”
Crab Apple waved a dismissive hoof in front of her, hoping it would distract her from his own blushing. “Fogetta ‘bout it,” he replied. “It’s what friends do, remember?”
There was a small silence between the two of them at the mention of friendship. Crab Apple cleared his throat uncomfortably. “So, ah,” he said as he rubbed the back of his neck. “Come on. I’ll walk you home.”
Princess Celestia had prepared a magnificent sunset for that evening. The horizon was tinted in shades of yellow, red, and orange, with hints of purple hued clouds cascading across the skyscape. It was a sight to behold, but for Smithy and Crab Apple, the details just blended into their awkward silence. They sat on opposite sides of the porch swing as they watched the sun setting on Sweet Apple Acres. They’d barely said a word to each other since they’d gotten home.
Crab Apple took a deep relaxing breath as he stretched his arms above his head, letting his neck and shoulders pop. “Boy, dis place sure is empty,” he said, trying to make small talk as he lit a fresh cigar.
Smithy continued to look out at the empty orchards as she replied with only an ‘eeyup.’
Crab Apple looked over at her, noticing the distant look in her eyes. “I guess you can fill it up when your mom and boy come back,” he said, getting another ‘eeyup’ out of Smithy. He leaned his head against his hoof as he looked back out at the orchards. “Lucky you,” he said as he took a long inhale on his cigar. “Guess you got your life all sorted out then. You got your family, farm, kid, all like dat.” He waited to hear another minimal response of out Smithy, only to be surprised by her sudden silence.
They sat quietly for a while before Smithy finally took a turn to speak. “What are ya gonna do with yerself now that it’s over?” she asked, watching as the first stars dotted the sky.
Crab Apple shrugged his shoulders at the question. “Oh, I dunno,” he replied. “Hadn’t thought dat far ahead. Maybe I’ll go do dat political gig da princess told me about, or maybe not. Maybe I’ll be a troubadour like your brudder, or maybe not. Hey, maybe I’ll be a boyd exterminator. Wouldn’t dat be somethin’! I hate them things, remember?”
Crab Apple was glad to see Smithy smirk at his bird joke. He cautiously slid down the porch swing so that he could be closer to her. “Hey, you know, I was thinkin’, right?” he said, his tone softening slightly. “You and me, right? We make a good team. So… maybe we could… I dunno… maybe… get inta politics or somethin’? I dunno…”
He gestured back and forth between the two of them as if he had more to say, but nothing else was coming out. There was an even more awkward silence between the two ponies. Crab Apple eventually slid back to his end of the porch swing. “Yeah. Fogetta ‘bout it,” he said as he stuffed his cigar back in his mouth. “I know, stupid idea, right? What was I thinkin’. Politics! Geeze!”
Smithy hopped off the porch swing, which stopped Crab Apple from rambling further. “Look, I gotta take a walk,” she said, trying to keep a steady tone in her voice. “Mind holdin’ down the fort fer a while?”
Crab Apple tried to smile for her sake since he could she that she had a lot on her mind. “Sure. Take your time,” he said kindly, having a feeling that he knew where she was going to go.
Smithy walked with her head held low for miles before she reached the tree where Bladire was laid to rest. She collapsed at his memorial stick and cried her eyes out. “Oh Bladire!” she sobbed. “I’m all mixed up!”
She buried her face in the grass, letting her tears soak into the ground. She held desperately onto the ground with her hooves, ripping out clumps of grass in a vain attempt to feel held by her long dead lover.
She started to calm down some as she listened to the nearby creek, letting the sound of the running water sooth her nerves. “Well, we finally did it,” she said with a stuffy nose. “Kizzy’s finally free, just like we always wanted. She went back to Zebrica with Lizza and her new beau. She fell fer Crab Apple’s buddy, Salty Ron. He’s a zebra just like y’all.”
She wiped her nose on the back of her hoof, not even caring how gross it was. “I feel kinda selfish cryin’ fer mahself right now,” she admitted. “I ain’t the only one who lost somepony special to ‘em today. Crab Apple done lost his best friend. Him and Salty Ron were thick as thieves too. I wish folks here in Equestria were like that with zebras, but I think it’s gonna take a mighty long time before that happens.”
She reached out and touched the barky texture of Bladire’s memorial stick, thinking back to the years when she could touch him. “I miss ya so much,” she said sadly. “Ain’t a day goes by I don’t think ‘bout ya. I ain’t ever stopped lovin’ ya either, and that’s why I’m so mixed up. It’s that Crab Apple, ya see? He’s so wonderful sometimes I just can’t help mahself. But mah boy hates him, and I’m sure mama’s gonna have words 'bout him. He did kill mah husband, but I didn’t love Stinkin’ Rich in the first place so doesn't that count fer anythin’?”
All that stared back at her was a stick, which only made Smithy feel more alone. “I don’t even know if Crab Apple loves me back,” she sighed. “He keeps callin’ me his friend, or buddy, or partner. He sure is loyal, but I don’t know if it’s cause he loves me or of it it’s just fer some kinda benefit. I just don’t know what to think anymore. Here I fought fer what I believed in, fer everythin’ I ever loved, and I’m losin’ everythin’ I ever cared fer all at the same time. What should I do?”
Smithy began to hiccup from all her crying. “Oh, fingle fangle!” she cursed as she went to the creek to take a drink. She gulped down water and washed the tears out of her face and arms. It felt refreshing to clean away her emotional break down from the outside of her body, but she wished she could wash away the confusion she felt on the inside. Thankfully, the cool water was just the cure her hiccups needed.
Smithy shot strait up at the sound of a twig snapping in the distance. The Everfree Forest was known for its dangers after dark, and she wasn’t sure what to expect. She didn’t smell sulfur, so she knew it wasn’t timberwolves. If it was a manticore, she knew she couldn’t take it out on her own. Playing it safe, she dove into a bush to wait out what she feared was approaching.
To her surprise she saw Crab Apple stumbling forward with a sloppy bouquet of flowers in his teeth. She thought to jump out of the bushes to run to him, but for some reason she thought it best to sit back and watch him to see what he was doing.
Crab Apple looked around the tree with the flowers still in his mouth. She could see his goofy smile fade before he threw down the bouquet at Bladire’s memorial stick. “Dang it, I woulda swore she’d be here,” he cursed out loud to himself.
He sat down to look around again before looking down at the memorial stick. “Here, for you,” he said sarcastically as he slid the flowers toward the memorial stick. “I guess you can give ‘em ta Smiddy next time you see her. Or you can have ‘em, Bladder… Batter… Bladiator… whatever your name is.”
He sighed as he turned to face the memorial stick. “Look, I’m sorry pal,” he said respectfully. “I just gotta lot on my mind. I was hopin’ I’d find Smiddy here, you know? Instead, just you. You don’t mind if we have a talk, do you? I got nopony else ta talk ta right now.”
He lay down on the ground and rested his head on one hoof as he pawed at the ground where Bladire lay to rest with his other hoof. “Thanks. pal. You’re a good guy,” he said to the ground. “She’s a good gal, your Smiddy. I ain’t met nopony like her. Well, maybe your sister. Now dat was a woman! Ah, no disrespect there, pal.”
Crab Apple held his hoof up to show no animosity, a gesture he almost felt silly doing. He sighed as he put his hooves back on the ground. “Look, I love her, alright?” he said, having a hard time keeping his emotions in check. “I mean, I love your sister, and I ain’t stopped doin’ dat. Kizzy was a heck of a gal, lemme tell you! But Smiddy... every time I’m around her, I feel like I found a part of me dat fits. Like we belong togetha is what I’m tryin’ ta say.”
He wiped the sweat from his face with the back of his hoof. “We just gotta few problems is all,” he continued. “It’s dis whole agreement we made. I dunno if she told you dis, but I killed her husband. She came ta me ta whack him. Dat’s how we met. Crazy story, am I right?”
He snorted a half laugh as he thought about it. “Dat kid a hers,” he said as he put his hoof on his forehead. “He hates me. I don’t blame him. I killed his dad right in front a him, even threatened him for show. It’s not like I can go up ta him and be all ‘hey I’m your new dad’ or somethin’. I mean, I kept him and his grandma away from Smiddy for five years! They ain’t gonna be all excited ta welcome me inta da family.”
By now, Crab Apple was openly crying at Bladire’s grave. “I feel so mixed up,” he cried. “I want what’s best for her, but I feel like I’d be lost without her. I don’t know what ta do anymore. I don’t even know if she loves me anyway! How could she? I mean come on, I’m a gangster just like her husband was! I don’t know what I’m gonna do.”
Crab Apple ran a handkerchief over his face to try to clean up his emotional mess. He stared desperately at the memorial stick for guidance, getting nothing but stoic silence as a response. “Like you got all da answers!” he hollered in frustration. “Why am I talkin’ ta a stick in da middle a da woods anyway! Geeze, I’m goin’ crazy over here!”
Smithy slowly emerged from her hiding place, her own eyes streaming with tears. “Yer not crazy,” she cried.
Crab Apple jumped at the sound, only to stare wide eyed at the pony who he’d unintentionally professed his love to. “You sneaky timberwolf,” he teased as he got up to stand by her. “You heard da whole thing, didn’t you?”
Smithy smiled as she hugged him. “Funny ya should mention,” she replied. “I just got done doin’ the same thing y’all did before I got all scared and hid in the bushes. Fer a second I thought ya was a manticore.”
Crab Apple brushed a tear away from Smithy’s cheek as he smiled down at her. “No kiddin’,” he said tenderly. “You’re a mess. How’d you get mud and stuff in your hair? What’s in dat bush? A giant mudpie?”
They laughed together as they pulled leaves and twigs out of Smithy’s mane. Crab Apple even joined Smithy in a fun filled splash in the creek to clean off the mud.
They eventually rested on the creek shore, laying side by side and holding hooves. Crab Apple breathed a contented sigh of relief, glad to know his feelings could finally come out. “So whadda you think?” Crab Apple asked as they both looked up at the star filled sky. “Think we can work it out with your family, or are we just kiddin’ ourselves?”
Smithy rested an arm behind her head as she thought about it. “I dunno,” she sighed as she found the Big Dipper. “I just wish I had a sign that said everthin’s gonna be okay.”
Crab Apple caught sight of a shooting star streaking across the night sky, watching as it crossed over the constellation of the Big Dipper before burning out. “Would you look at dat!” he said as he saw another one follow the same trajectory path. “Think it’s them tryin’ ta tell us somethin’? Kizzy I mean, and Blobbier… Blower… Blah blah blah. You know, her brudder.”
Smithy got up to stand next to him as they watched more shooting stars streak through the sky. “Ya ain’t ever gonna get his name right, are ya?” she teased.
As she leaned her head on Crab Apple’s shoulder, she could hear him softly singing. “When da sun comes back and da first quail calls, follow da drinkin’ gourd,” he sang.
Smithy joined in on the old slave song as they stood to watch the shooting stars. “Fer the old man is awaitin’ fer to carry ya to freedom if ya follow the drinkin’ gourd.”
They turned to each other as they continued to sing:
Follow the drinking gourd Follow the drinking gourd For the old man is awaiting For to carry you to freedom If you follow the drinking gourd.
Apple Bloom cooed her sappy approval over her grandmother’s story of love concurring all. “That’s the best love story I ever heard!” she exclaimed as she held her cheeks with joy. “It’s better than that Dusk book series me and Applejack have been readin’. Ya know the ones with the vampony and the timberwolf, right? Yer story is better than Dusk's, and those are the best books ever!”
Applejack was the one who read those books to her sister, and she begged to differ. She found them trashy, clichéd, and all around unbelievable stories about a vapid love triangle between two cardboard cut out characters. And she particularly hated the spineless mush of a protagonist in those books who had to choose between these trite stallions. Had it been her, she would have gone for the practical timberwolf pony over the crystally emo blood sucker pony any day, but she was the type who was used to thinking with her head instead of her heart. “That sure was a fine story, granny,” she said, reeling in the conversation from silly romance novels meant for children and the easily entertained. “But it sure don’t explain why we owe money in the first place, or why yer giving away extra jam jars to Filthy Rich.”
Granny Smith turned to what she realized to be the last group of pages in her scrapbook. “I’m a gettin’ to that,” she said, turning to an article from the Ponyville Press that covered her courthouse wedding to Crab Apple. “Ya see, yer granddad proposed to me right there under them stars that night. He said he wanted to make a proper pony outta me, ‘specially after five years of nothin’ goin’ on between us. Real soon after, yer daddy and Auntie Orange were on their way into the world. Them twins was as different as apples and oranges from day one. That’s where they got their names! We called him Honeycrisp and her Valencia.”
Applejack could tell that her grandmother was rambling again. While she loved hearing stories about her long gone father, she was just as curious as her siblings were about where the debts came from. “So when does the reason we owe so much come into place?” she asked.
Granny Smith cleared her throat before she continued her story. “It starts off durin’ the honeymoon,” she explained, showing two train ticket stubs with her wedding date on them. “We set off fer Dodge City right after the weddin’ so we could finally bring mah family home…”
The newlyweds shared a quiet, uncomfortably awkward train ride to Dodge City right after the courthouse wedding had ended. The fellow train passengers either glared at them, whispered too loudly about them being responsible for the economic downturn thanks to emancipation, or avoided looking at them all together. Even the snack trolley pony pushed passed them in a hurry, explaining how serving ponies with their reputation would be bad for business.
Dodge City looked more like a ghost town than a bustling hub of commerce like it had been in years past, reminding Smithy of how it looked during the Cloudsdale Strike when she was a filly. Several of the shops on the main thoroughfare were boarded up with signs reading "Gone Out of Business." Those shops that were still open had signs that read "No Stripes Allowed" in big red letters. The few ponies inside the stores were mostly employees, looking for ways to pass the time between the few customers they had.
Smithy could see a stallion in Grossly Rich's general store window putting out a pan of fresh baked brownies to cool. The scent of them seemed to fill the near empty street with the heavenly aroma of chocolate. Smithy couldn't help closing her eyes and smiling to herself as she tilted her head back and took a whiff.
Even Crab Apple was also enjoying the smell of the baked goods. “Think your mom and boy would want some a those?" he asked, eagerly digging bits out of his vest pocket to pay for the tempting treats as his stomach gurgled with hunger.
Smithy was eager to nod, nearly bounding up the store stairs to get to the brownies. "Good thinkin'," she replied, her hoof already on the door. “Filthy Rich’s uncle owns this here general store. I reckon he'll be glad to serve family."
The bell on the front door chimed merrily as Smithy and Crab Apple walked in, catching the attention of the shop clerk. His head perked up optimistically at the sound, only to find himself disappointed with his newest customers. "We don't serve yer kind 'round here," he said, staring down his nose at the two ponies. “Just get on outta here. I don't want no trouble with the likes of y'all."
Smithy was getting tired of this type of treatment. Looking down at the clerk's name tag, she noticed the name Prosper written in black ink. "Listen here, Mr. Prosper," she said, trying to sound dignified. “I know the fella who runs this here store. Where's Grossly Rich? I wanna talk to him."
Prosper scoffed at the entitled display. "Mah pa's dead," he explained. “Stress got to him. He worked himself to death after we had to let the zigglers go. Mighty fine shame too. We had ourselves the biggest and best general store in the tri-county area. It's mah general store now."
Crab Apple rolled his eyes at Prosper. “Spare us your life's story," he said as he set his stack of bits on the counter. "We buyin' brownies or what?"
Prosper pushed the bits off the counter, letting them fall wherever they would. "No sale," he said with a snarky smirk.
Crab Apple was fuming at the rude clerk. He pressed his nose up against Prosper's so that he could yell in his face. “Don't blame us for your dad's incompetence!" he hollered, yelling so much that spit was flying out of his mouth.
Smithy gently knocked her husband out of the way to avoid a big fight. “Simmer yerselves down, fellas," she said over the masculine grunts. “We wanna buy them brownies fer mah mama and boy."
Prosper's expression changed to one that openly mocked the two ponies. “Boy, y'all have been in Foalsom too long!" he chuckled. “I’m surprised ya ain’t heard."
Smithy was confused by the sudden mocking. “Heard what?" she asked, cocking her eyebrow in question.
Prosper rolled his eyes at Smithy's ignorance. “Why not head on over to the Buildin' and Loan and find out fer yerselves," he said, feeling satisfied with knowing something they didn't. "I'd tell ya mahself, but I wouldn't wanna spoil the surprise fer ya."
Crab Apple put his arm around his wife's shoulders. “Come on," he said, not taking his angry eyes off the pony behind the counter. "We don't need ta give jerks like dis our business anyway."
As soon as they left the store, Prosper rammed the door on their rumps. He locked the door, then made rude gestures at them from the window.
Crab Apple shot the shop keeper a dirty look as he spat at the door. “Da nerve a dat guy!" he exclaimed as he and his wife walked away. “I swear, if dat door wasn't locked, I'd go back in there and clobber him!"
Smithy lead her husband down the street, all the while unable to get the idea of what this surprise was out of her thoughts. She knew it had been far too long since she had last seen her family. How much could have possibly changed, and was it all for the better?
Crab Apple watched his spouse fretting as she walked with her head down. He nudged her playfully as they turned down an intersecting street. "Come on, cheer up," he said, noticing that she wasn't responding like he had hoped. “Dis is what you want, remember?"
Smithy stood nervously at the doorstep of the Dodge City Building and Loan, gulping back a nervous lump in her throat. “Yer right," she said as she rested a hoof on the door, too nervous to even open it. "Just seems every time I try to get what I wanted, it doesn't turn out like I hope it does."
Smithy felt bad that she hadn’t written ahead to tell them that she was coming, but she was so eager that she hadn’t thought to do so. She hadn’t received a letter from either her son or mother in over a year, and she was worried that they might not be as eager to see her as she was to see them. She knocked on the front door with a shaking hoof, taking a deep breath as she waited for somepony to answer.
Fairly Rich answered the door, allowing it to stop on a chain lock he had installed. He stood at the door for what felt like forever studying them intensely. "Y'all ain’t bill collectors, are ya?" he asked, watching the two ponies shaking their heads as he eyed them from top to bottom. "Y'all ain’t Jehooveh’s Witnesses then, are ya? Cause iffn ya are, we ain’t interested. We've already found our princess and we ain’t got no money to send y'all to Saddle Arabia to convert heathens. Go talk to mah bill collectors fer that evidence."
Smithy smiled nervously as she held out an introductory hoof to shake. “I’m Smithy, yer old sister-in-law,” she said, noticing Fairly Rich not taking her hoof. Instead, she noticed he had several scars that looked like they came from deep scratches across his face, and a good chunk of his left ear missing. While his left eye was covered over by an eyepatch, his right eye did not look impressed. “Uh, this here’s mah husband, Crab Apple. We’re here to see mah mama and boy. Are they ‘bout somewhere?”
What was left of Fairly Rich’s eyebrows raised at the realization of who was at his front door. “Yer Filthy Rich’s mama!” he exclaimed, quickly unchaining the door to the Building and Loan. “Well, don't just stand there. Come on in before the flies get ya. I'd offer ya some refreshments, but I don't have the wife or the zigglers fer that kinda hospitality no more."
Smithy and Crab Apple stepped in the empty office, noticing Fairly Rich limping on a peg leg. They listened to it clack loudly as he walked, a sound noticeable different to their own hoofsteps echoing under the floorboards. They also noticed a large shelf on the back wall with several framed metals on it surrounding the Equestrian flag folded in a six sided hexagon, signifying the six Elements of Harmony. Most noticeable was a large purple heart metal framed in the center.
Fairly Rich noticed his guests looking at the shelf. “That’s where this came from, in case ya were wonderin'," he said, propping his wooden peg leg up on the desk. “Got mahself drafted in the Griffin War, and Velvet ran off after I came home injured. I guess ya could say I'm lucky to be alive, but that's debatable. But ya know all 'bout the war I reckon since it's the one y'all got started. Least that's what we read it in the papers anyhow. Sure shocked yer mama and boy the more they read. Still, them politicians paychecks must be mighty nice. We'd be awful glad to help y'all invest yer money here in the Dodge City Buildin' and Loan."
The mention of family made Smithy look around eagerly. “Where’d mah mama and boy get off too?” she said optimistically, trying to change the conversation.
Fairly Rich sighed deeply at the mention of the family. “Yer mama’s gone, honey,” he said sadly. “Passed on ‘bout a year ago. Stress got to her I reckon. She passed on right after we found out y’all got arrested.”
The news silenced Smithy. “Mah… mama?” she said quietly as Crab Apple wrapped his arm around her shoulders for support.
Fairly Rich nodded sadly in reply. “She was a real nice woman,” he said. “Fussed a bunch, but she was real good to yer boy.”
Smithy brushed away her tears for her mother at the mention of her son. “Can I see him?” she asked.
Fairly Rich lead his guests to a back room office. “He’s doin’ his homework. Real bright boy,” he explained as he knocked on the door. “Filthy Rich! Ya got some visitors.”
Smithy was shaking as she waited for the door to open. She hadn’t seen her son in over five years, and she wasn’t sure what to expect. She smiled the moment she saw his face. “Hi, baby,” she said as she threw her arms around him and showered him with kisses.
Filthy Rich pushed his mother away. “What are ya doin’ here?” he scowled.
Smithy knew she shouldn’t be surprised by the behavior, but she was hurt all the same. “I’m here to take ya back home,” she explained. “I got everythin’ all fixed, just like I promised I would.”
Filthy Rich eyed the pony standing beside his mother. “What’s that killer doin’ here!” he hollered as he pointed at Crab Apple.
Smithy stood between the two ponies to try to ease the tension. “Well, ya see,” she tried to explain, “this here’s yer new daddy. We went ahead and got married before we came out here to pick y’all up. He’s okay. I promise.”
Filthy Rich was fuming at the news. “No!” he shouted. “He killed mah daddy! How dare y’all! Yer both bad ponies!” Filthy Rich slammed and locked his door, and could be heard crying from the other side.
Smithy gently knocked at the door, hoping to talk some sense into him. “Now Filthy Rich,” she said, trying to hold her emotions in check. “It ain’t all what yer thinkin’. Lemme come in and talk to ya!”
Fairly Rich pulled her away from the door and held her at arms length. “I think y’all better leave,” he said sternly. “He’s stirred up enough as is. Let the boy be.”
Smithy wanted to fight the request, but she knew Fairly Rich was right. “Can y’all do us a favor?” she asked through bitter tears. “I need to talk to mah boy and explain to him all that happened. I feel like I owe him an explanation fer everythin’. Maybe if y’all come to the farm durin’ harvest season we can all have ourselves a talk.”
Fairly Rich took a deep breath as he thought about the request. “I’ll talk it over with yer son,” he replied. “I’m gonna leave it up to him now, ya understand? It’s his life, and he’s gotta decide if he wants this.”
It was a fair answer, and Smithy would have to accept it. She felt a lump of regret in the pit of her stomach as she and Crab Apple walked out the door. “Think he’ll come 'round?” she asked as she looked up at her son’s window.
Crab Apple watched the blinds being closed by the upset child. “Hard tellin’,” he said. “Give him some time, okay?”
While listening to her grandmother’s failed reunion with her family was tragic, Applejack was starting to get impatient. "So when are we gonna get to the part 'bout our debts?" she asked, pointing to the window at the low hanging moon on the horizon. “We've been at this all night! I'm ain’t tryin' to be rude or nothin', but how's all this tie in on what ya decided to do this mornin'?"
Granny Smith turned to a scrapbook page containing a thin contact that she and her son had made. “This here’s where it happens,” she explained, showing it to her antsy granddaughter.
Applejack looked over the contract, trying to figure out everything for herself. “When’d y’all decide on this?” she asked as she saw the agreement for one hundred jars of zap apple jam per harvest. "Iffn I ain't mistaken, it looks an awful lot like the last one some pages back."
Granny Smith pointed to the date on the top of the contract to help explain herself. “It happened real soon after yer daddy and Auntie Orange were born," she replied, turning a page to a newspaper clipping of a birth notice printed in the Ponyville Press. “I wrote to Fairly Rich and Filthy Rich every week before the twins were born, beggin' fer fergivness. Every once in a while, Fairly Rich would write me back, but most of the time he'd try sellin' me on some investment or another instead of givin' me a real answer."
Granny Smith showed her grandchildren the sales letters and brochures Fairly Rich had mailed her, all of them vague and desperate for money. “Times got awful rough fer folks 'round Equestria," she explained. “Stock Market crashed 'cause of how hard it was fer some ponies adjustin' to life without profitable slaves. It got so bad that ponies scrambled to the banks to take out their money before it was all gone. We lost some money when that happened, but we were okay livin' off what we grew on the farm. Sweet Apple Acres was all bought up and paid fer, so we didn't have to worry none 'bout a roof over our heads. I couldn't help worryin' 'bout mah boy though, 'specially with the Dodge City Buildin' and Loan. I didn't wanna give up hope, but there weren't much else I could do..."
Crab Apple stood over his son's crib, cooing and talking like a lovesick father. “Does my baby boy like dis ba ba sheep toy?" he said in a cutesy voice as he held a stuffed sheep over baby Honeycrisp's head. “Here comes Mr. Wolly! Dat's right. Come and get him, my great big boy!”
Honeycrisp let out a loud cackle as he grabbed onto the stuffed animal with his gums. He wrapped his little arms around the soft toy and chewed on it with drooling glee. His father was crouched next to him, bopping the toy with his nose just to listen to his son giggle.
Smithy sat in her rocking chair, feeding a fussy Valencia. She watched her husband bonding with her son, reminding her of how Stinking Rich used to play with Filthy Rich all the time when he was just a baby. She felt a wave of guilt wash over her as she watched Crab Apple pick up Honeycrisp and lay the baby boy on his chest, just like her late husband used to do.
Ever since her latest pregnancy, Smithy was feeling nostalgic for Kizzy and Filthy Rich. She had always dreamed of having her son and daughter together under the same roof for family time, a dream that hadn’t come to pass. The fact that she had brought both a son and a daughter into the world just now almost seemed ironic, especially with them being as different as apples and oranges like her two older children.
She knew that Kizzy and Filthy Rich were both old enough at this point to make their own decisions, but she couldn't help wondering if things would have been better if she had made different decisions when they were younger. If Stinking Rich were still alive today, would Filthy Rich still love her? And what would have become of Kizzy if she hadn’t ended the slave sale? She knew she never would have met Crab Apple if this was the case, and the idea of never meeting one of the kindest, loyalist, most loving men she had ever known made her upset. It didn't help to think that their relationship was founded on such a violent beginning.
Crab Apple noticed a far away look on his wife's face as Valencia rested against her. He inched his way towards Smithy, still holding onto his son. He lifted Honeycrisp up to his mother’s face, the baby boy still smiling with the stuffed sheep hanging out of his mouth. “What’s wrong, mom?" Crab Apple said in a high pitched voice, using his son as a puppet as he tried to sound like a child.
Smithy appreciated the gesture as she took her son from Crab Apple, giving the colt a kiss on the cheek as she cradled him next to his sister. “I’m just thinkin' is all," she said, watching the twins gurgling in her arms.
Crab Apple leaned his head onto his wife's shoulders, nuzzling her cheek as he watched his babies. “What are you thinkin' about, huh?" he asked quietly, watching his children take turns yawning.
Smithy gently got up from the rocking chair, leaning against her husband as they made their way to the crib. “Kinda funny how we had a boy and a girl," she said as she lay them back in their crib. “Stars sure have a funny way of tellin' ya things sometimes."
Crab Apple watched his wife take her time kissing his children as she tucked them in like precious commodities. “You miss Kizzy and Filthy Rich, don't you," Crab Apple said bluntly.
Smithy looked at him with wet eyes, providing to him that he was right. “Yeah, how'd ya know?" she whispered to avoid startling the children.
Crab Apple wrapped his arm around his wife's waist, pulling her close to him. "I can read you like a book you know," he said as he gently kissed her. “It’s kinda obvious by da way you act around da kids. You act like they're balloons. It's like your afraid ta let 'em go, or dat you'll break 'em or somethin'."
Smithy knew he was right, but she was so afraid of ruining their lives like she had with her other children that she couldn't help herself. She buried her eyes into her husband's shoulder, comforted to know that she was in the arms of somepony who loved her just as much as she loved him. “I just don't wanna make the same mistakes I made before with mah other youngins," she said, letting tears soak into his shirt.
Crab Apple stroked his wife's braided hair, noticing a few more gray strands mixed in with the normal yellow ones. “Hey, you're gonna make mistakes, alright. It's just gonna happen," he explained. “They gotta learn dat life's full a mistakes, and dat's just life. You learn from mistakes, and dat's how you get smarter. Now you got a whole new chance to make all kinds a new mistakes, and I'll be here ta make sure we take care a all da mistakes we're both gonna end up makin' togetha."
The two ponies held each other close for a long time, listening to the peaceful quite of the nursery. It was a very content feeling to just let the world go on around them as they stood there, lost in each others embraces while listening to their children sleep. The couple whispered their affections to each other quietly, as though raising the volume of their voices would spoil the perfect moment.
The silence was broken by a distant noise outside. Crab Apple let go of his wife and walked to the window to see what it was that was causing such a fuss outside. "There's a big wagon comin' up da road," he explained with narrowed eyes, trying to make out more details. "Wonder if it's travelin' sales ponies. We don't need snake oil, do we?"
Smithy stood beside her teasing husband as they watched the wagon labor it's way down the road. Her eyes flew open at the sight of who she saw walking beside it. "Wait...is that Fairly Rich!?!" she exclaimed, her face breaking into a wide smile as if a miracle had happened.
In her excitement, Smithy ran down the stairs without so much as a thought. She threw open the front door to greet her guests, who were still too far away to hear her. “Howdy y'all!" she shouted at the top of her lungs, waving her hooves in the air like a lunatic to try being seen from such a long distance.
Crab Apple finally made it to the bottom of the stairs, breathing heavily at the sudden need to move. "What are you, nuts?" he said between gasps. "Let 'em get closer. Maybe get 'em some refreshments instead a standin' here like an impatient foal."
Smithy quickly took to her husband's suggestion, running to the kitchen to make a platter of sandwiches and a pitcher of lemonade. Even with the food prepared, her guests were still a ways off. "Maybe we should go greet 'em half way," she suggested, smiling wide like an excited child. “I reckon they'd be mighty glad fer some help."
Crab Apple couldn't help smiling at his wife's enthusiasm, but was afraid to get her hopes up. "Leave da food on da porch, okay?" he said, letting his wife give him a thankful kiss on the cheek before running to the door. “Now cool down before comin' off goofy, and wait up for me!"
It was hard for Smithy to stand still as soon as she ran up to the wagon. She noticed her son and his cousin, Prosper, were pulling on the wagon reigns while Fairly Rich limped beside it. She jumped up and down, waving like a fool to get their attention. "What are y'all doin' 'round here?" she asked as she galloped up to them.
Fairly Rich politely waved back as Smithy approached him. “We got run outta town after we lost the Buildin' and Loan," he explained as Smithy hugged him, only to half heartedly return it for politeness sake. “We were livin' above the family business ever since we sold the house to try to keep ourselves afloat. After the Stock Market crashed, folks rushed fer their money. We didn't have enough money to go 'round, so the Buildin' and Loan went belly up. We had no place to go after that. We reckon since ya dropped yer son off with us years ago, it'd be high time to return the favor, right Filthy Rich?"
Filthy Rich scowled as his uncle playfully poked his side with his peg leg. “I don't wanna talk 'bout it, Uncle Fairly Rich," he grunted between gritted teeth.
Smithy smiled at her disgruntled son, who refused to look back at her. “It’s real good to see ya again," she said politely, noticing his off putting behavior.
Fairly Rich waited for his nephew to respond, getting annoyed by his stubborn silence. “What do ya say to yer mama, Filthy Rich?" he said, more like a disciplinary father than his uncle.
Filthy Rich rolled his eyes and huffed his frustration, looking at uncle as if to ask if he really had to. "Thanks fer yer hospitality," he grumbled as if he had rehearsed it.
Crab Apple walked up to the wagon, smiling uncomfortably at the guests. “So, uh, need some help folks?" he asked, getting rude looks from the two ponies pulling. “Say, Filthy, wanna break? Maybe I could pull for you and..."
"NO!" Filthy Rich screamed in interruption. “I got it! Just leave me alone!"
Crab Apple backed away from the fuming teenager. “Geeze, sorry for askin'," he said defensively. “Just don't hurt yourself on dat thing, alright? Offer still stands if you change your mind, you know."
To show his independence, Filthy Rich heaved the cart forward. “I said I got it!" he said with an obstinate snort as he dug his hooves into the ground for better hold.
Feeling there was little else he could offer, Crab Apple turned to go back to the house. "Hey Smiddy," he shouted over his shoulder. "I'm gonna go check on da kids if you need me."
Filthy Rich stopped in his tracks, his eyes wide open in angry shock. "Y'all have kids!?!" he exclaimed in his crackling, prepubescent voice. “How's this even possible!"
Crab Apple shot the rude teenager a cheeky look. "What, you never have da talk?" he said sarcastically, getting a very rude gesture in return from Filthy Rich.
Fairly Rich grabbed his nephew by the heaving shoulders to get him to stop his behavior. “We’ll talk 'bout it when we get ourselves settled in," he said sternly as if not to further agitate his nephew.
Filthy Rich shook with anger at his uncle’s touch for a good few minutes, studying the two ponies he had built such an intense grudge against. "Yes, Uncle Fairly Rich," he forced out before continuing towards the house.
Fairly Rich backed away from the moving cart to talk with his host. “He’s havin' a hard time with this," he apologized. “We've been fightin' tooth and nail ever since we lost our property. Times are hard, and he's a real proud boy. He hates the idea of takin' a hoofout again, 'specially from the likes of y'all, no offense. We’re just hopin' fer a fresh start so we can get outta yer hair and move on with our lives."
Smithy was offended, but chose to keep her mouth shut. “How long were y'all plannin' to stay?" she asked as the boys finished pulling the wagon up to the house.
Fairly Rich shrugged his shoulders. “Dunno," he said. “Gonna have to depend on how long it takes to get a job and a place of our own."
The two ponies walked up to the house in silence, watching the boys unhook themselves from the wagon. They watched Crab Apple try to be helpful, only to be rejected by the stubborn boys.
Prosper tussled his cousin's mane playfully, noticing how annoyed Filthy Rich was at having his hair messed up. "I gotta head back to what's left of mah General Store," he said, giving his cousin a gentle nudged on the shoulder. “Don't ferget to write iffn yer havin' problems. Ya know I'm here fer ya."
Filthy Rich did not return the friendly gestures. “Why can't we just live with y'all instead of this dump site?" he asked, spitting rudely on the front porch right in front of Crab Apple.
Prosper sighed at the question as if they'd been over this a thousand times. "Ya know Dodge City ain’t safe fer ya right now," he explained. “Folks are too money crazy 'round there. Yer mighty lucky y'all didn't get rode outta town on a rail fer not havin' enough money to go 'round at the Buildin' and Loan. At least these folks look like they got some room fer ya to lay low 'til this all blows over."
Crab Apple held out the platter of sandwiches, hoping to entice the boys. “Sure you don't wanna stay for a snack?" he asked, taking a bite out of one of them to show how tasty they were. “Smiddy makes good stuff you guys. You don't know what you're missin'."
Prosper turned his nose up at the offer. “Ain’t hungry," he said with a smirk. "See ya, cousin. Don't let this here swindler bug ya none."
Fairly Rich shook a grateful hoof with with his nephew, wishing him safe travels. “Ya sure ya don't need travelin' money?" he asked, trying to offer Prosper some bits.
Prosper shook his hoof as he refused the money. “Y'all need it more than me," he said with a kind smile, making sure that Smithy saw it. "Family takes care of its own where I come from. It's the Rich family motto as far as I'm concerned."
While Smithy took Prosper's words as the jabbing insult that they were, she knew she didn't have much to say in her defense. She had dumped her own family at the mercy of her late husband's, which to this day haunted her good reputation.
Smithy waved a shamed goodbye to her son’s cousin before rejoining the group. “Well now, y'all look tired," she said, Fairly Rich shooting her an insulted look for pointing out how haggard they looked after traveling so far on hoof. "Let's get y'all situated. Why, I reckon after a shower and a hot meal, yer gonna feel fresh as a daisy."
Filthy Rich rolled his eyes at Smithy's forced hospitality. “I’m gonna go to mah room," he said as he stomped loudly up the stairs.
Smithy went to the staircase to talk to her son, but he was already at the top and well on his way to his old bedroom. “Filthy Rich!" she tried to warn him. “We need to find ya a different room! We got the babies in there!"
A door was heard slamming, followed by the crying of frightened babies. Filthy Rich appeared at the top of the steps with furious tears in his eyes. "I know when I ain't wanted," he murmured as he walked down the stairs, pushing past his relatives on his way to the front door. “Ya can keep yer murder pony and his babies! I don't want nothin' to do with y'all!"
Fairly Rich watched his nephew run as fast as he could away from the house. "Come on back, boy!" he shouted. “We talked 'bout this, remember? Yer gonna get yerself lost!"
Smithy shoved her former brother-in-law out of the way. “This ain't yer argument," she scowled. “He’s mah boy, and I'm gonna take care of this."
Fairly Rich returned the hard nudge as they ran out the front door to pursue Filthy Rich, running surprisingly fast for somepony with a peg leg. “I know I ain't his daddy, but I've been responsible fer him ever since y've been out gallivantin' 'round Equestria," he scolded. “Don't ya realize how much it hurt yer boy readin' 'bout his own mama breakin' the law? Ya abandoned him to go be a delinquent."
Smithy grabbed Fairly Rich by the tail to stop him from his limping gallop. "Now just listen here," she said, having had just about enough of Fairly Rich’s accusatory attitude. “Iffn I hadn’t gone and fought fer what I believed in, zebras never would've gained their freedom. Filthy Rich would've kept on actin' hateful towards zebras instead of realizin' they're just like us! I wanted him to learn to treat folks with the respect Celestia gave us all!"
Fairly Rich raised an angry eyebrow at Smithy. “And do ya think it really worked?" he asked, staring daggers at Smithy. "He’s gone from hatin' zigglers to hatin' his own mama."
Fairly Rich’s word's struck Smithy to the heart like a pickaxe. She tried to think of something to say, but everything in her felt too numb to function.
Fairly Rich scoffed at the dumbfounded display. "That's what I thought," he said, disapprovedly shaking his head. “Lemme tell ya, if it weren't fer the Faction of the Stud, I don't know how we'd be here anyway. Folks in Dodge City tried to kill us when they couldn't get their money after the Stock Market crashed. I can't tell what they were thinkin' sendin' us here. The Faction's always been so helpful otherwise."
Just hearing that her rival gang had helped make this reunion possible made Smithy's already numb body run cold. After all the pain and hardship, after being pardoned for months of prison time, after letting her own daughter go, the Faction of the Stud was still at large.
Fairly Rich watched Smithy faint, collapsing in a heap like a sack of apples on the ground. He gritted his teeth in frustration at the comatose pony laying before him. "Useless," he snarled, spitting on Smithy's head before walking away to find his runaway nephew.
Fairly Rich spent the rest of the afternoon trying to find Filthy Rich, having no luck in his efforts. He left Smithy where she fainted, expecting to see her later when she came around. After a long, exhaustive search, Fairly Rich could smell supper cooking from the house and decided to take a break from looking for his nephew.
Supper was spent in a worried silence as everypony picked at their carrot stew. Smithy and Fairly Rich kept giving each other harsh looks across the table, wordlessly blaming each other for Filthy Rich’s disappearance as their supper grew cold.
Crab Apple cleared his throat uncomfortably as he chewed his food. "Say, dis sure is good, ain’t it?" he said with an awkward smile.
Smithy nodded her acknowledgement to her husband, but wouldn't take her gaze off of Fairly Rich. “Thank ya, dear," she said halfhearted, taking a bite of it herself. “T'ain't nothin' special. I whipped it up last minute. It's all 'bout gettin' it to do what ya want and not lettin' it go, ain’t it?"
Fairly Rich scoffed at how the recipe description was associated with slave treatment. “Don't surprise me," he commented, taking a big, manly bite of his meal. “Last minute presentation seems yer kinda style."
Smithy tossed down her fork in annoyance, letting it clatter towards her guest. “And just what in tarnation is that supposed to mean!" she hollered her offense.
Fairly Rich watched his host's outburst with an unphased expression as he wiped his mouth off with a napkin. “Oh, don't go worryin' yer purdy lil' head 'bout it," he said in a condescending tone. “I’m sure there's a method to yer madness. Ya seem like a real resourceful type. They teach that sorta thing in Foalsom, don't they?"
Smithy's cheeks reddened with pent up anger. “I learned it doin' hard work here on the farm!" she burst out. "I earn what I got, so iffn ya wanna stay in this house, ya better treat us with the respect we've earned!"
Fairly Rich set his napkin down beside his plate, smiling proudly as he rested his hoof on top of his peg leg. "Well, bless yer heart," he said in a mocking sweetness only a wounded soldier could pull off, glad to know how that his time on the front lines could aid him in swaying the conversation to his favor. "Here I thought I was treatin' y'all how ya deserved, given we're in this here mess 'cause of y’all. Boy howdy, do I ever have egg on mah face."
Both ponies jumped up as soon as they heard a knock at the door, stopping the argument from escalating any further. They ran to answer it, tripping over each other in an effort to be first.
Standing on the front porch was an overweight, grey police stallion dressed in blue from his head to his donut cutie mark. “This yer boy?" he asked, pointing to a disgruntled Filthy Rich.
"Yes!" both ponies declared, each wrapping their arms around the runway.
The police officer eyed the loving display between the two ponies. “Boy, ain’t that a purdy sight," he said, watching the two ponies separate quickly and look at each other uncomfortably. “Don't matter none to me. I'm just here to do mah job. I caught this here run away trespassin' on Old Man Sedgewick's property and brought him back, and while I was interrogatin' him he said he ran off 'cause there's been a murder here."
Smithy gulped back her anxieties as soon as she saw a cruel look on her son’s face. “Now what could've made ya think a thing like that?" she asked, doing her best to keep a neighborly tone in her voice.
Filthy Rich pushed passed his mother and uncle, leading the police officer up to the kitchen table. "It's him, officer," speaking in the most polite voice he had all day while pointing an accusing hoof at Crab Apple. "This here’s the pony who killed mah daddy."
Crab Apple choked on his bite of supper as the police officer watched him. “Hey, kid, don't surprise me like dat," he coughed, drinking some water to clear his throat.
Fairly Rich rushed to Crab Apple's side to pat him on the back and refill his glass. “Filthy Rich!" he scolded. “Ya better apologize to yer step-daddy this instant!"
Filthy Rich gasped at his uncle's betrayal. “He killed mah daddy!" he shouted in a crackling, prepubescent voice as he stomped his hooves so hard on the floor that the table shook.
Fairly Rich swatted his nephew upside the head to get him to be quite. "Officer, ya gotta fergive him," he explained with the same sweet smile he had at supper. “His mama got remarried and he’s all upset. Ya know how kids can get when somethin' like that happens."
The police officer scrunched up his eyes in confusion. “Wait, I thought ya were his daddy," he said to Fairly Rich, scratching his head as he tried to figure out who was who. “Look, I ain't here to judge y'all on yer lifestyle choices, but this here’s feelin' like one of them cheap paperbacks mah wife reads. Just tell me straight who I'm talkin' to."
Fairly Rich puffed up his chest proudly at the officer as though he had just been complimented. “That’s awful kind of ya to think I'm his daddy," he said with a big smile on his face. “Filthy Rich is just mah nephew, but we've always been real close. Mah wife and I couldn’t have one of our own, so he’s just like what I’d hope fer in a son, iffn I was blessed with one mind ya. So I'm here to help him with the new family transition is all. Any good brother'd do the same thing, right Smithy?"
Why Fairly Rich was defending Smithy was a mystery to her, but she couldn't believe her ears at what she was hearing after such a rude supper. Smithy was so dumbfounded by the lies Fairly Rich was willing to tell in her defense that she had to pause to find the right words to say to the police pony. “Oh, right," she said, having to tell herself to exchange a smile with the stallion who was lying to protect her. “Mah brother here’s a real... peach."
Filthy Rich grabbed the police pony by the hoof and dragged him away from his uncle and mother. “Don't listen to them lyin' vipers!" he hollered, desperate tears rolling out of his eyes. "This man killed mah daddy, right in front of me! I saw it with mah own eyes! Don't ya believe me?"
The police pony smiled down at Filthy Rich and tousled his hair, but ultimately did not believe him. "Sounds more like ya got some trouble at home," he said with a concerned smile. “Listen kiddo, runnin' 'round accusin' folks ya don't like of murder ain’t gonna open doors fer ya, or make stuff go how ya want it to go. I know it's hard gettin' used to a new family, but these things take time. If ya give it a chance, ya might just discover ya like it more than ya thought."
Filthy Rich shook his head violently, fresh tears spilling out. "No!" he screamed. “T'ain't right, ya hear! Lyin' ain’t right!"
Filthy Rich’s temper tantrum was out of control, and the police officer backed away for fear of being hurt. “Y'all want I should call fer backup?" he asked as he watched the angry teen throw the pot of lukewarm carrot stew across the dining room.
Fairly Rich rested a reassuring hoof on the police officer's shoulder. “He'll tire himself out soon enough," he replied calmly. “Before ya know it, it'll be nothin' but 'I'm sorry' and 'I didn't mean it' and such. Ya know how kids this age are."
The police officer looked at each of the adults in the room, not sure how to read their expressions. “Okay then," he said, tipping his hat. “I'll be patrollin' the area tonight iffn ya need me."
Fairlhy Rich walked the police officer out to the porch and sent him on his way, making sure to thank him profusely for returning his nephew safe and sound. As soon as he was far enough away from the house, he turned on his peg leg and walked back in with a look that could kill. “Boy!" he shouted at Filthy Rich, grabbing him square by the shoulders. “What got into yer head goin' to the police like that? Ya know just as well as I do that we're in enough hot water with the bank examiner fer fleein' Dodge City after yer Auntie Velvet stole the last of the money. Ya want me to get arrested on top of everythin’ else?"
Filthy Rich was crying so hard that he could barely breath. “I’m sorry, Uncle Fairly Rich!" he sobbed. “I just don't wanna be here with that murderer. He killed mah daddy!"
Fairly Rich hated to watch his nephew have to suffer more than he already had. While knowing it wasn’t manly do cry, he couldn’t help wrapping his arms around the emotionally scarred teen and shedding a few frustrated tears of his own. "Now I don't wanna be here anymore than y'all do," he said, shooting his hosts a distasteful look, "but ya know that layin' low to avoid the bank examiner's warrant is all I got left to keep us safe from fallin' apart again. I don't want nopony callin' ya a bad pony ever again. I don't wanna ruin yer life!"
Filthy Rich wiped his nose with the back of his hoof. "But we ain’t bad ponies, Uncle Fairly Rich," he said in his defense. “Ain’t our fault the market crashed. And we didn't kill nopony like he did."
Fairly Rich lowered his nephew's accusing point at Crab Apple. "Them boys in blue ain’t gonna look at it like that,” he explained as he brushed away tears from Filthy Rich’s cheeks. “We're talkin' 'bout money, and money's just as bad sometimes. I know ya've been mighty wronged by these folks and ya wanna bring 'em to justice, but right now ya gotta think 'bout yerself or y'll never start fresh."
Filthy Rich rested his head against his uncle's shoulder, letting his tears soak into his coat. “I hate 'em," he said in a breathy sob.
Fairly Rich rested his cheek against his nephew’s forehead. “I ain't askin' ya to love 'em none," he replied matter of factually. “Ya just gotta tolerate 'em is all."
Smithy felt awful as she watched Fairly Rich walk her son upstairs to find him a place to sleep for the night, remembering when old Tess did the same thing the night she found out that Stinking Rich had killed Bladire. She remembered how emotionally broken she'd felt to have to accept her marital fate, even though she hated the man who had conceived her son that night.
She wanted to reach out to her son, to tell him that she understood the pains he felt. She wanted to tell him that she loved him and that everything would be alright. She felt like she could spend a million years in Foalsom Prison if it meant he could find peace, but she knew it wouldn't solve anything. Just like the night she and Bladire tried to run away, she was accountable for this. And just like the murders his father had committed before him, she knew that she was to blame.
Apple Bloom began to cry as she thought about her now known uncle. “I never knew he was like that," she wept, allowing her grandmother to cradle her. “Is he still like that? And do ya think that's why Diamond Tiara is so mean?"
Granny Smith shrugged as she thought back on her past sins. “Hard tellin'," she said as she rocked the little yellow filly. “It takes a mighty strong pony to grow from a colt to a stallion, but he found a way to make it work."
Apple Bloom looked up at her grandmother with big, wet eyes. "How'd he do it?" she asked innocently as she wiped her eyes.
Granny Smith turned back to the contract. “This helped,” she said, letting Apple Bloom read over the fine print.
Granny Smith thought back to the night she and her son wrote up the contract, remembering how hard it was for her to let go of so much just to make peace with her son. “I made that there contract so mah boy would understand the choices I made, and so he could have a chance to start over," she said, looking at the scrawled writing on those old sheets of paper. "I knew he deserved to hear the truth, even though I knew that the truth would hurt. So when I found him in his old clubhouse, I went up there with mah scrapbook to tell him the same story I’m tellin’ y’all…"
Smithy had a hunch that her son had gone to spend the night in his old clubhouse hidden in the western orchard when she found the guest bedroom empty. When he was a child, Filthy Rich liked to sneak off to it when he was moody. While he wasn't there earlier that day, she guessed he might be there now since his use of police force had failed him.
With her scrapbook tucked away in her saddlebag, Smithy made her way to the old clubhouse with nothing but a firefly lamp to guide her. She noticed the familiar clubhouse her late husband had built with her son years ago had fallen into disrepair. The once fresh paint was cracking on the outside, and some of the boards that formed the walls were warped from years of exposure to the elements. Just stepping on one of the loudly creaking stairs made Smithy wonder if her son was even considering going into such a dangerous place, but there was only one way to find out.
She knocked on the clubhouse door, hoping to hear a sound from Filthy Rich. All that greeted her was silence, a silence that made her imagination run wild to the most horrible of things. "Filthy Rich?" she whispered as she inched open the door, afraid of what she'd find on the other side.
Filthy Rich stood at an open window, staring down at the ground below. "What do ya want now?" he mumbled, not even bothering to look up.
While the cold reception hurt, Smithy had to know that her son was hurting far more than she could be right now. "Look, I ain't here to try makin' excuses fer all I done," she said, gingerly inching towards her son as the floorboards groaned beneath her every step. “Celestia knows I've done mah share of terrible things over the years, and there ain't no amount of apologies that can make it all go away. But one thing's fer sure. I owe ya an explanation fer mah actions."
Filthy Rich turned his head sideways to see his mother out of the corner of his eye. He could see that she was holding up a beaten up old scrapbook. “I ain't interested, " he sulked, turning his head away again. “Ain’t even worth it anyhow. There just ain't no more justice left in the world."
Smithy held tight to her scrapbook, taking a deep, musty scented breath to conjure up the courage needed to talk to her son. “Not even if I got the answers ya've been lookin' fer?" she said, hoping to entice him. “Not even if it's got answers 'bout what happened to yer daddy?"
Filthy Rich held his breath as he thought about what he would say about his mother's offer. “How do I know ya ain’t lyin' to me?" he asked hesitantly.
Taking a risk, Smithy held out her scrapbook for him to hold. “Guess that's fer ya to decide on yerown," she replied.
Filthy Rich’s hardened gaze went from his mother’s face to the scrapbook in her hoof several times before he decided to approach her. “Don't dare lie to me," he said as he stood beside her.
Smithy set her scrapbook down on the floor near the firefly lamp so that they could see the pages. She turned to the front of the scrapbook, surprising herself at how much she had changed since back then. “I've known yer daddy since I was just a filly," she began, noticing her son rolling his eyes already at her story. “Mah daddy owed yer grampa a lotta money back in them days, and mah daddy did wrong by yer family a long time ago. But yer grampa was a good, fergivin' man."
Filthy Rich huffed at his mother’s explanations. “I know that," he wined impatiently. “Grampa told me all 'bout yer family owin' him money and how y'all got bailed out by Princess Celestia to pay him back. He said iffn the princess didn't do that, he might've had to increase the interest rates on everypony else's loans or risk losin' his business. Funny that ended up happenin' to us."
Smithy held her tongue at her son’s biting words as she turned ahead in her scrapbook. “I ain't sayin' what daddy did was right," she explained, "but it did set into motion what happened between yer family and mine, 'specially when it comes to matters of the heart."
Smithy felt bad knowing she didn't have an image of Bladire to show her son, but she did at least have one single one of Kizzy. “I met her daddy in Canterlot while mah daddy was in prison," she explained, letting her son see the familiar face of the slave he had heckled since childhood. “Bladire was a good man, and I loved him very much. But yer daddy wouldn't let us be together."
Filthy Rich’s eyes widened with disbelief as he looked at the photo of Kizzy. “Ya mean to say ya cheated on daddy?!?" he exclaimed in horror.
Smithy shook her head fiercely as she grabbed the photo away from her son before he could damage it. "I did no such thing," she said as she held the precious photo close to her heart. “I loved Bladire long before Stinkin' Rich blackmailed me into marryin' him."
Filthy Rich’s chest heaved with hatred as he spat on his mother’s scrapbook. “I told ya not to lie to me!" he screamed in his mother’s face.
Smithy stared unblinking into her son’s crying eyes. "I wouldn't be lyin' to ya 'bout somethin' like this," she said as she turned to the old contract Stinking Rich made her sign years ago. "Yer daddy was jealous of what Princess Celestia gave mah family years ago. He wanted it fer himself, and knew that I was just the pony he needed to control to get it."
Filthy Rich scanned over the contract to see what his mother was talking about. "Looks cut and dry to me," he said flatly.
Smithy touched the contract that had set her life of hardship into motion, a sense of regret pouring out of the deep breath she let out. "If only it was," she explained. “Ya see, yer daddy owned Bladire, and he used him as a pawn to steal from me. I was willin' to make a fair bargain with yer daddy regardin' mah zap apple jam, but he wanted a whole lot more than that. He was lookin' fer control over compromise. I found that out after he made me sign this here contact. And after I signed it, he... took me by force to prove his point. He was power hungry, and he wanted to hurt me to show he was in charge."
It was hard for Filthy Rich to hear about his father in a negative light. He had always thought of him as a good man who had been martyred that night in the hotel. "How can that be?" he wept, rejecting any of his mother’s attempts to comfort him.
Smithy backed away from her son to look at the contract. "I later found out more 'bout it after Bladire saved me from yer daddy's abuse that night," she explained. “I learned all 'bout the Faction of the Stud, and sure enough, they ended up takin' over the farm fer a while. This here contact was less 'bout jam and more 'bout losin' mah freedom."
Filthy Rich still didn't like what he was hearing, but his curiosity was getting the better of him. “Iffn he wronged ya so bad, why didn't ya go to the police?" he asked.
A hot tear ran down Smithy's cheek as she thought about it. "I was scared to," she explained. “Yer daddy was gonna set mine up to go back to jail if I did anythin' to get in his way of takin' over Sweet Apple Acres. I was afraid of what him and the Faction could do to me, Bladire, or mah family, and I knew that contract wouldn't help me out in a court of law. I was too scared to do anythin', so I took the abuse yer daddy put on me to save the ones I loved."
Hearing about his father’s controlling behavior was hard to believe, especially since Filthy Rich remembered his father for being generous and kind to him. "Iffn ya were so afraid of him, why’d ya marry him then?" he asked, hoping to corner his mother in a lie.
Smithy flipped to a page in the contract, pointing to the loophole Bladire showed her years ago. "I was scared and pregnant, and didn't know what to do," she replied. "Bladire thought he found a way out, sayin' if I accepted yer daddy's marriage proposal, I'd be a slave owner. Because I would own slaves, I could have control over an escape plan so we could all run away to freedom."
Filthy Rich scoffed at the idea as his mother showed him the escape route drawn on a map. “Now I know yer lyin'," he said, pushing the map away. “How could a stupid plan like that work?"
With a heavy heart, Smithy folded the map back into the scrapbook. “It didn't work," she admitted, thinking back to the day Kizzy was born. “Yer sister came too quick and yer daddy and the Faction boys caught us. As soon as he saw the baby weren't his, he hung Bladire."
Filthy Rich didn’t care for his mother’s tears. He crossed his arms and rested himself against the warped wall boards. “Can't say I blame him," he said, ignoring the shock on his mother’s face. “Anypony would get mad 'bout his wife cheatin’ on him. I'm surprised he didn't kill ya along with the ziggler baby.”
Smithy was angry that her son could say something so hurtful, but she remembered asking Tess a very similar question. "Ya remember Lizza?" she asked, hoping to lay his accusations to rest. "She lied to yer daddy to save me and Kizzy. She told him that Bladire forced himself on me, and that's why I had a striped baby. If she hadn’t lied, I'd be dead by now and ya wouldn't be here talkin' to me."
Filthy Rich pouted at his mother’s harsh explanation. "Why'd ya stay married then?" he asked, not willing to look at his mother for how angry he was.
Smithy remembered the night she learned the truth about Bladire's death, and how powerless she was to do anything about it. "Yer daddy broke me, just like he would a slave," she explained in a saddened voice. “I was more his property than his wife after that. Lies and secrets ain’t a marriage, and we’re both guilty of that. Our marriage turned out more like a business agreement that lasted a real long time. Y’all just happened to get yerself caught up in it."
Filthy Rich was disgusted with his mother and how she talked about her marriage to his father. “So I was a mistake then?” he asked.
Smithy sat beside him to pat him on the back, which he pushed away. “No baby,” she said, failing to comfort her son. “Yer daddy wanted himself a lil’ boy real bad. He didn’t get ya the first time, so had me try again. Ya meant the whole world to him.”
Filthy Rich looked at the photos of the two of them together on the train ride to his death, embarrassed to think that he put licorice in his nose as a child. “But he died on that trip," he said, fighting a losing battle with his emotions. “That murder pony killed him right in front of me, and tried to kill me too!"
This was the part of the story Smithy was dreading the most. “Crab Apple did it 'cause I hired him to," she confessed. “Stinkin' Rich was gonna sell Kizzy, and I never would've seen her again. I was desperate, scared, and outta options. I wanted to kill yer daddy mahself, but kept chickenin' out. I knew that there was a rival gang in Baltimare, so I hired 'em to have yer daddy killed so I could save yer sister."
Filthy Rich gasped, drawing his hooves up to his gaping mouth as he stared wide eyed at his mother in horror. “ Ya... he... just..." Filthy Rich stuttered in disbelief.
Smithy watched her son try to comprehend what she had told him, his shock turning to fury. “Crab Apple wasn't gonna do it at first," she said quickly, watching Filthy Rich try to form what he wanted to say. “I found out he took the job 'cause yer daddy killed his first wife and baby. If it weren't Stinkin' Rich he was hired to kill, he'd have refused. We planned on doin' it while ya were sleepin' so ya'd just get the bad news when ya woke up, but yer daddy had other plans."
Filthy Rich buried his face in his hooves as he listened to his mother talk about his father's killer. “Ya had daddy killed!” he cried out as he held his head as if doing so would keep the bad news out. “All ‘cause of that filthy yella ziggler? Do ya love her more than ya love me?”
It was a difficult question to answer, one no mother likes to hear. Smithy paused for a moment to think of the best thing to say. “I love ya both,” she began to explain. “Thing is, I love ya both different. Yer mah boy, so of course I love ya, but ya got a whole bunch handed to ya at an early age. Yer views on everythin’ got all warped up by what ya thought ya knew. Kizzy was a slave, and had a hard life. I wanted to see mah girl have a better life, the kinda life her brother was already enjoyin’.”
Filthy Rich didn’t understand the answer. “So if ya loved us equal, why’d ya abandon me and gramma after ya killed daddy?” he asked, his arms crossed as tight as a knot.
Smithy knew this decision would haunt her relationship with her son for the rest of their lives. “Sometimes ya gotta fight fer what ya believe in, even if it means givin’ up on what ya love,” she answered. “I knew fer the sake of both of ya I had to try to fight fer freedom, even if there was times when all I wanted to do was quit. I didn't quit because I was thinkin' 'bout both of ya. I wanted Kizzy to live in a world that’d accept her, and I wanted ya to learn to accept folks like her so we could be a family. I wish it worked out better, but even after slavery was abolished folks still had problems acceptin’ zebras as equals. So yer sister ended up goin’ back home to where her kind came from.”
Filthy Rich was too upset to care. "Ya realize that scrapbook of yers is all the evidence I need to throw y'all in jail," he said, perking up at the thought. “I could get the justice I want just takin' it to the police ponies."
Smithy closed her scrapbook with a loud thump as she looked at the snarky grin on her son’s face. “Well now, don't ya just look like the cat that ate the canary," she retorted in her defense. "Guess we can all get to know each other better in prison, 'specially with that warrant out fer yer Uncle Fairly Rich."
Filthy Rich let out a frustrated snort in his mother’s face. “Ya leave mah family outta this!" he exclaimed. “They've got it hard enough as it is thanks to all y'all. Mah family gave up everythin’ to help raise me while ya were gone out breakin' laws, and took care of me like one of their own after gramma died. I owe ‘em everythin’, and they’re gonna lose their livelihoods ‘cause of y’all. Think 'bout that fer a while!”
Smithy could see the desperation in her son’s face, a desperation that she had put there. It was obvious that she had ruined so much of his life, and that was something that both of them would have to live with. She flipped absentmindedly through the pages of her scrapbook, hoping that a smile from the past might inspire some ideas on how she was going to reach out to her son. If it was one thing the old Seed Family was good at, it was scraping by in the worst of situations.
She turned to the page that contained Princess Celestia's royal pardon, the document that changed her life. “Say boy,” she said, breaking the silence between the two of them. “When I was just a filly, Princess Celestia gave mah family a fresh start when she gave us Sweet Apple Acres. What if I was to do the same fer ya?"
Filthy Rich stared suspiciously at his mother, his eyebrows knitted together under his steely gaze. “What could somepony like y'all do?" he asked, trying to figure out what she could possibly have to offer.
Smithy pointed out the window into the dark night. "Land," she explained. “I can give ya a piece of property all yer own fer ya and fer yer uncle to build up a house and start over."
Filthy Rich was taken back by the offer. The last thing he was expecting was an offer to get out of the house so quickly, but that was exactly what he wanted. "What's the catch?" he asked, still skeptical about the offer.
For the first time since the start of the conversation, Smithy felt herself smiling. “No catch," she said, her head held a little higher than before. "Once all is fergiven between us all, then y'all can pick where ya wanna build, so long as it don't interfere with harvestin'. And it won't be a real big piece of land mind ya. Just enough to be independent without turnin' us into produce competitors."
Filthy Rich’s suspicions were confirmed, and he was quick to point them out. "I knew I couldn't trust ya!" he exclaimed, shaking his hooves at his mother in frustration. “Yer alright kickin' us out, but heaven forbid somepony else try to outdo ya!"
Smithy held up her hooves to show no signs of animosity, but her son was not wanting to listen. “Now see here!" she hollered over her son’s bickering. “Competition's a hard enough business without mixin' in folks ya care 'bout. We already got bad blood between us, so let's not add more."
Filthy Rich snorted his disappointment out at his mother’s offer, angry that she would put such stipulations on him. As he huffed out his feelings, his hardened gaze fell back on his mother’s scrapbook. “How 'bout distribution instead?" he suggested, turning to his father's old contact. "Daddy got ya started on this here contract fer the first hundred jars of zap apple jam fer Uncle Grossly Rich, and he did good enough. Somethin' like that'll go a long way into a family business, and it'd be a way to make some money while helpin' mah Cousin Prosper."
Smithy thought more about her son’s suggestion, trying to think what more she could do to make amends. “I reckon that'd be alright," she contemplated, realizing what the loss of profit would mean to her son’s success. “I betcha yer Uncle Fairly Rich would be a big help with the money handlin' too. It ain’t like we got a real strong bank here in Ponyville anyway, so he’d do well as a clerk fer ya.”
Filthy Rich shook his head at the idea. "He’s a war veteran. He deserves his own success," he said, firm in his ideas to take advantage of the situation. "Gonna be real shady gettin' a permit to open up a bank with a warrant out though."
Smithy rested a hoof under her chin in thought. “Ya know, Crab Apple don't have a warrant out on him," she said, watching her son’s interest begin to peek. “Why I betcha hooves to hindquarters he'd be willin' to help ya both out in openin' up a Buildin' and Loan fer Fairly Rich. And he's still got some ties in Canterlot that can see 'bout bailin' out yer uncle."
While the offer was certainly tempting, Filthy Rich couldn't help wondering if there was an ulterior motive. “I want this to be a Rich enterprise, not an Apple enterprise," he demanded. “I don’t even want folks to know we’re related. Ya rightly embarrassed me at school with all yer goin’ on in the newspaper, and it’d be a business risk associatin’ with ya. Ya understand, don’t ya?”
Smithy was taken back by the obligation. “But yer mah boy!” she replied. “Fer all the wrong I've done ya, I wanna make things right. I wanna be proud of ya, and I wanna help ya!”
Filthy Rich rolled his eyes at his mother’s sudden display of maternity. “And I wanna succeed,” he replied dryly. “Ya can help me out by lettin' me go off on mah own with a fresh start. Ya’ve kept secrets before fer mah sister so she’d succeed in life, right? Can’t ya keep some fer me so I can succeed? Yer willin' to throw the murder pony in the mix fer yer lies, so why not? Ya owe me that much.”
It hurt to think that once again she would have to keep a secret. She thought she was passed that part of her life after she’d let her daughter go. Still, if this was the only way she could keep her son in her life, what choice did she have? “It’s a deal,” she said sadly as the two shook on it.
After that, the two of them made up a contract together, writing it out under the firefly lamp in the clubhouse. Smithy sat back and let Filthy Rich write up anything as he pleased, so long as she could still be a part of his life. She finalized her decision as she wrote her name down at the bottom, her simple writing spelling out the name ‘Granny Smith.’
Granny Smith turned to the deed to the Ponyville Building and Loan with her son and husband's name written on it as owner. “So that’s why I owe Filthy Rich what I do,” she said, turning to some newspaper clippings about the structure's grand opening. “We opened up a Ponyville Buildin’ and Loan, where I put all mah money in Fairly Rich’s care. Filthy Rich soon took a job at Mr. Gower's drug store soon after. He bounced between workin' at both, and got real stressed out fer such a young man. I never saw any money comin’ in off that bank, but it brought mah boy closer to home."
Applejack looked at the newspaper clipping of the opening of the Ponyville Building and Loan, watching the major of the time helping her uncle cut the red ribbon on it. "So he ended up screwin' us over then," she said flatly.
Granny Smith chuckled at her granddaughter’s tone. "Ya sound just like yer granddad after I told him 'bout the deal I made," she said, gently nudging an unamused Applejack. “He was awful sore with me at first fer makin' such a risky, expensive deal without him, but he came 'round."
Applejack gave her grandmother a stern look. "I don't blame him," she replied dryly. “Just look at the mess we're in now."
Granny Smith sighed, knowing that her granddaughter was right. “It didn't start out like that," she explained, turning to a surprisingly affectionate photo of Filthy Rich curled up asleep on the floor with baby Honeycrisp snuggled up close to him. “He kept his end of the bargain fer a while, and fer a long time we didn't have a whole lotta problems. I think yer daddy had somethin' to do with that, iffn ya ask me. Filthy Rich'd never admit it, and he sure never let on 'bout it, but I think he liked havin' a brother."
So, you’re still with me after all these chapters? Thank you for taking your time to read this over! I hope you found it as enjoyable to read as I did to write.
Most important to me is giving credit to whom it belongs, so let’s go through what inspired me to write this:
First and foremost, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic belongs to Hasbro. Big thanks to Lauren Faust, who sought to challenge the established nature of the existing My Little Pony line, creating more in-depth characters and adventurous settings.
Another very strong influence on this fan fic is the mini-series Roots, a dramatization of author Alex Haley's family line from ancestor Kunta Kinte's enslavement to his descendants' liberation. I would highly recommend this series to anyone, though it is difficult to watch due to the suffering. Still, it’s a part of America’s history, and had a major impact on our nation’s economy. You can find information on the Roots series here: -http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Roots_(TV_miniseries) -http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0075572/
I drew inspiration from the following episodes of My Little Pony, Friendship is Magic: -Family Appreciation Day -Apple Family Reunion -Super Speedy Cider Squeezy 6000 -Bridle Gossip -Best Night Ever -Mmmystery on the Friendship Express -Swarm of the Century -Return of Harmony parts 1 and 2 -Spike at Your Service -The Cutie Mark Chronicles -It’s About Time
I really experimented with accents in this fic. The Dodge City residents are about as southern as y’all can get. The Baltimare ponies talk like they are from New Jersey. The griffons have a French accent based on the character of Gustav the Griffon from Mmmystery on the Friendship Express. My head cannon says that griffons are French, but griffons like Gilda are born in Equestria and have a regular accent. Take it how you see fit.
Mmmmmmm… Zap Apples… Seriously, can you not see Homer Simpson saying something like this?
The Dodge City Building and Loan is inspired by the Bedford Falls Building and Loan from It’s a Wonderful Life, one of my all time favorite movies. It’s one of those movies that makes me cry like crazy too. You can find information here: -http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0038650/ -http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=frXklECPkD0
I chose to call our young Granny Smith by the name of ‘Smithy’ to help you the reader associate between young and old, especially since the story jumps around a bit. I got the idea from pet names for children’s names. I’ll use my name as an example: My name is Sue, but as a child I was called Susie. Hope it wasn’t too confusing!
Pokey Oak’s tall tales are inspired by Jack and the Bean Stalk and an episode of the Care Bears called The Lost Gift.
The idea of a memorial stick came from the idea of people making crosses out of sticks to remember the dead. Since there is no pony Jesus I just chose to use a single stick poking up out of the ground to honor the dead.
Grammy Gillyflower is inspired by Granny from the Beverly Hillbillies.
The “boys in blue” refer to police ponies.
A patty wagon is a police vehicle. Early police vans were in the form of horse-drawn carriages, with the carriage being in the form of a secure prison cell: -http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Police_van
Get The Heck Outta Dodge is a reference to Dodge City, Kansas, which was a favorite location for westerns in the early to mid 20th century. Most memorably, the phrase was made famous by the TV show “Gunsmoke,” in which villains were often commanded to “get the hell out of Dodge.”
A debtors' prison is a prison for people who are unable to pay debt. Prior to the mid 19th century debtors' prisons were a common way to deal with unpaid debt. Debtor’s prisons are no longer being used, but collection companies can sue debtors for not paying their dues or garnish debtor’s wages. You can read more here: -http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Debtors'_prison -http://www.bills.com/collections-advice/
Foalsom Prison is a variation on Folsom Prison, only ponyfied. The name sounded like a play on the word ‘foal’ and I got the idea from the Johnny Cash song Folsom Prison Blues.
I have chosen not to have my zebras rhyme, leaving that to shamanic types. In Magical Mystery Cure, Twilight Sparkle mentions spells rhyming. We have seen several times that Zecora can perform tribal magic on a shaman’s level, so I saved the rhymes for her.
The slave retrieval scene is inspired by the Fugitive Slave Act of 1850. This allowed bounty hunters and civilians to lawfully capture escaped slaves in the north, or any other place, and return them to the slave master. Many escaped slaves upon return faced harsh and horrid punishments such as amputation of limbs, whippings, branding, and many other horrible acts: -http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Fugitive_slave
The Trial of Pokey Oaks vs. Dodge City Building and Loan is purely inspired by Family Appreciation Day. Having worked as a bill collector, I know it can be difficult to persuade people to pay their debts. Often I tried to be reasonable and kind, helping people find solutions on paying their debts instead of being rude. Debtors are people too after all, and there’s just no reason what so ever to talk down to people. Sometimes it worked and sometimes it didn’t. I wanted to show that not all bill collectors are monsters, so this scene is to show some hope that there is often a way to pay your debts if you look hard enough.
There are several chapters named after signs of the zap apple harvest. These are supposed to be milestones for Smithy. Amazing recipe for a grilled zucchini tower. Not as big as the one I envision being served in Canterlot, but everything is bigger and grander in Canterlot: -http://www.justluxe.com/lifestyle/dining/feature-1803763.php
The American folksong Follow the Drinking Gourd was first published in 1928. The Drinking Gourd song was used by an Underground Railroad operative to encode escape instructions and a map. Slaves were often not allowed to talk to each other, so they had to sing to get messages to each other: -http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gBOP8t2hlFQ
So why does Smithy go for Stinking Rich, even though we know he’s bad for her? Simple answer my friends: Good girls go for bad boys. This isn’t always the case mind you. (IE: I married a good boy after dating some pretty dumb boys.) I thought it would make for an interesting twist that would move the story forward in a good progression. Here’s a link if you want some research: -http://www.yourtango.com/experts/sherry-gaba/why-bad-boys-are-so-attractive-good-girls
A Box Social is a charity event where women decorate a cardboard box and fill it with a lunch or dinner for two. The men bid on the women's boxes anticipating a meal with the woman whose box it is. The bidding involves teasing, joking, and competition. The event frequently takes place in a town hall, school gymnasium, or church hall. The practice had fallen out of favor with young people in the 1970s–1990s, but has seen some resurgence in recent years. It has been popularized by the Broadway musical Oklahoma. In this story it is used as a similarity to a slave auction: -http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Box_social
Princess Celestia’s ignorance about slavery is compared to her knowledge of parasprites in Swarm of the Century. If she doesn’t know what a parasprite is after centuries of life, what else doesn’t she know about?
The name Bladire came from a former coworker. I thought it sounded exotic and pretty, so I chose to use it. It was either that or Kunta Kinte from Roots.
Bladire’s plight to Equestria comes from slave entrapment in the Middle Passage. Conditions on slave ships were often torturous based on the packed living conditions. Food was scarce, disease was common, and conditions were less than sanitary. Often workers on slave ships were put there to pay off debts. You can read more about conditions on a slave ship here: -http://4thebest4e.tripod.com/id15.html -http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Middle_Passage
Friendship between slaves and slave owners was a taboo during slavery times.
The term ‘ziggler’ is supposed to represent the ‘n-word’ in this story. I wanted to give this piece some historical authenticity while skirting one of the worst words in the English language. Please don’t hate me for it.
Necklaces are for me a good way for ponies to be engaged. In the Royal Wedding we see rings for unicorn horns, but what would earth ponies or pegasus ponies use? I chose the necklace so that this can be answered and so that Smithy would have a tribal zebra trinket signifying her romantic and spiritual connection with Bladire.
Stinking Rich refers to Bladire as Toby, making another reference to Roots. There is a scene in Roots where Kunta Kinte is wiped into submission, his strong spirit broken when he gives up his freedom by giving up his name. You can see the scene here, but be warned as it is very violent: -http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1CpJpGF8lS8
“A store where ponies could save hundreds of bits a year, gettin’ everythin’ they need in one stop! Wall to wall savin’s thanks to items bought in bulk, prices slashed lower than they’d ever seen anywhere else! It’ll be magnificent!” My Little Walmart ladies and gentleman. Have fun wrapping your head cannons around that one. I got the idea from the South Park episode Something Walmart This Way Comes, seen here: -http://www.southparkstudios.com/full-episodes/s08e09-something-wall-mart-this-way-comes
Stinking Rich refers to Smithy as ‘baby girl’ as his pet name for her. I chose this to show how he thinks of her as little more than a child that he can manipulate.
So let’s address one of the bigger elephants in the room: sexual abuse. I originally got the idea again from Roots, where sexual abuse plays a major part. I was mostly inspired by the slave ship scene where Fanta reveals that her spirit is broken because of rape, saying to Kunta, "I am no longer a Mandinka maiden." (I wish I could find the clip, because her words are so much more powerful than I can ever give meaning to.) There are several instances in Roots showing rape and sexual abuse as a from of control and a way to break slaves spirits. Abuse in and of itself in any fashion is a form of control, ie: slavery. I chose to have Stinking Rich rape Smithy to show him breaking her spirit and taking control of her body, mind, land, family, and finances, just as he took control of his zebra slaves. I wanted to bring Smithy down to the slave’s level so that we could identify her desire to free the zebra slaves as more than just a vanity project. This was a very hard decision to make based solely on the content, but ultimately I chose it because I felt it best identified the message I was going for in the story much like it did in Roots. I chose to show it as commonplace for slave owners to do this by the sexual abuse of Lizza, cementing this behavior in place and giving an excuse for the character of baby Kizzy. I hope none of you clopped over this… For a reference of common abuse of slaves, see this: -http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Treatment_of_slaves_in_the_United_States
Love stories are not my strongest stories, so pardon how awkward it is.
June the pegasus is based on musician June Carter Cash, Johnny Cash’s second wife. June had two children from two previous marriages and Johnny had four from his previous marriage. They had a child in their marriage, resulting in seven children grand total between the two of them. You can find information on her here: -http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/June_Carter_Cash -http://marriage.about.com/od/entertainmen1/p/johncash.htm
Bruisey is a variation on the name Brucey and the word bruise. It sounded like a tough guy name.
The name ‘Salty Ron’ and the item of pecan ice cream come from a joke in an episode of Mystery Science Theater 3000 called Bloodlust. I don’t know why, but I laugh at that joke every single time. I decided it would work for some reason. You can see the episode here: -http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JkvIKKcjlQ0 The joke is at 54:22.
The password, Mushy Surprise, is random. Just random.
Crab Apple’s opinion on birds is my opinion on birds. I hate birds!
The Underground Junction is essentially the Underground Railroad for the story. I chose to change the name for the sake of origionality. The Underground Railroad was a vast network of people who helped fugitive slaves escape to the North and to Canada, was not run by any single organization or person. Rather, it consisted of many individuals -- many whites but predominently black -- who knew only of the local efforts to aid fugitives and not of the overall operation. Still, it effectively moved hundreds of slaves northward each year -- according to one estimate, the South lost 100,000 slaves between 1810 and 1850. In this case, I wanted for Crab Apple's gang to have a purpose, and since the Underground Railroad was considered illegal it seemed like something a gang would partake in. You can find information about it here: -http://www.pbs.org/wgbh/aia/part4/4p2944.html
Senator Carpet Bag gets his name from the derogatory term “carpetbagger”, a term Southerners gave to Northerners who moved to the South during the Reconstruction era, between 1865 and 1877. The term referred to the observation that these newcomers tended to carry “carpet bags,” a common form of luggage at the time (sturdy and made from used carpet). It was used as a derogatory term, suggesting opportunism and exploitation by the outsiders. You can find more information here: -http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Carpetbagger
The media frenzy surrounding Smithy and Crab Apple is inspired by the media frenzy of Bonnie and Clyde. You can learn about them here: -http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bonnie_and_Clyde
The Hoofington Post is based on a newspaper known as the Huffington Post. Personally, I’m more a Drudge Report girl, but if you’re interested in seeing where I got the name, check here: ;http://www.huffingtonpost.com/ For Drudge Report, check here: -http://www.drudgereport.com/
Neighpanese ponies are supposed to be Japanese ponies, only with a horse pun. Crab Apple’s racist imitation is supposed to coincide with the times. Everyone’s a little bit racist sometimes, see: -http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RovF1zsDoeM
The Fire Hole is a real bar, but I have no idea where it’s located. I learned about it from a best man’s speech at a wedding I filmed, where he claimed that the bride and groom had met. He then said that the bride was the best thing to come out of The Fire Hole, and that nothing good ever comes out of The Fire Hole. This wedding also featured a John Deer ice sculpture, so I’m sure you can imagine what kind of redneck wedding we’re talking about here.
“After all, she’d just watched him go from puking in a pitcher while walking to flirting with her without skipping a beat.” True story. I’ve seen this happen at a wedding reception I was filming. Guy seriously walked and puked at the same time into an empty pitcher without missing a step. He then proceeded to try flirting with me, the lady with a wedding ring and a video camera. Grossest thing ever! I’m kind of glad didn’t get it on camera.
The name Glue Stick comes from a stand up routine by Jerry Seinfeld. I found it cute in a stupid way. Don’t judge me. You can learn more about Jerry Seinfeld here: -http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jerry_Seinfeld
“Go to Tartarus” is essentially “go to hell.” Tartarus is mentioned in It’s About Time. Here is a reference on Tartarus: -http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tartarus
The drunk timberwolf bit was inspired by stand up comedian Archie Campbell, best known for Hee Haw. He described an exploded still in his act making the birds on the side of the mountain happy and I couldn’t help laughing at what drunk timberwolves would look like. You can learn more about him here: -http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Archie_Campbell
The Mulitzer Prize is a horse pun for the Pulitzer Prize, an award for achievements in newspaper and online journalism, literature, and musical composition. You can learn more about it here: -http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pulitzer_Prize
Libel is defamation by written or printed words, pictures, or in any form other than by spoken words or gestures. Here is the full definition: -http://www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/libel
Celestia’s reference of seeing a scuffle turn into a brawl as soon as a chair is thrown is a reference to the Steel Chair Effect, from an episode of The Boondocks called Granddad’s Fight. You can see it in action here: -http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XMt55fi7ZQQ
The character of the prison doctor, Dr. Crane, is based on the television character of Dr. Fraiser Crane, from both TV shows Cheers and Fraiser. Fraiser is played by Kelsey Grammar, and he is one of my all time favorite TV show characters: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Frasier_Crane
Dr. Crane refers to Smithy having asthenic personality disorder, which is mental health condition in which people depend too much on others to meet their emotional and physical needs. Information on this disorder can be found here: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dependent_personality_disorder
The Equal Liberty Proclamation is based on the Emancipation Proclamation, which proclaimed all those enslaved in Confederate territory to be forever free, and ordered the Army (and all segments of the Executive branch) to treat as free all those enslaved in ten states that were still in rebellion, thus applying to 3.1 million of the 4 million slaves in the U.S. The Proclamation could not be enforced in areas still under rebellion, but as the army took control of Confederate regions, the slaves in those regions were emancipated rather than returned to their masters. You can read more about the Emancipation Proclamation here: -https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Emancipation_Proclamation
The Dusk book series is a reference to the Twilight book series, and Applejack's opinions reflect my own regarding it.
Jehooveh’s Witnesses is another horse pun for Jehovah’s Witnesses, a millenarian restorationist Christian denomination with nontrinitarian beliefs distinct from mainstream Christianity that is best known for knocking on people’s doors and spreading their beliefs. They’re kind of a pest. You can learn more here: -http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jehovah's_Witnesses
The Equestrian flag folded six ways to represent the six elements of harmony is my head cannon on military honors or deaths in Equestria, similar to how a soldier is honored with an American flag folded in a triangle: http://www.legion.org/flag/folding
Again, I thank you from the bottom of my heart for your support in reading this long novel of a fic. I’m sure there were moments in this fic that were hard to read, but there are moments in America’s history that are hard to read as well. I hope this helped open some of your eyes to a less than savory time our nation’s history, and give some understanding as to why it happened.
