"Big Macintosh," Applejack spoke. She stood along the edge of the decrepit barn, staring inside. "There are dozens of wagons full of undelivered apples," she said. "What's more... a good third of the orchards remain to be bucked!" Her bright green eyes blinked. "Our scheduled day of delivery to Filthy Rich is in less than four days. If we dun get it on that soon... the fruit's gonna rot. Even worse!" she exclaimed. "The rest of the apples might go bad before they're harvested!"
There was no response.
Applejack squinted. "Big Mac...?"
The stallion was a living frown behind stubble. He huddled beside an old plow that had been disassembled into random, rusted pieces. He fiddled and fussed and tweaked on the old tool's infrastructure, sweating up a storm.
Applejack fidgeted where she stood. "Didja hear a single word I just said?"
"Mrmmffff..." The stallion exhaled, eyes locked on the intricate task he had been working on for hours and hours. "Eeeyup."
"Well... what are we gonna do about it?!" Applejack waved a hoof. "No doubt Ma and Pa were gonna finish the harvest before... b-before..." She grimaced, ultimately swallowing a lump down her throat. "But... t'ain't too late to salvage what's left of the crops! You can go deliver the wagons that have been filled. Meanwhile, I'll set out on the orchards and begin bucking the trees that are left filled. Then—when you come back—we can work on it together. Then Granny can join us. Before we know it, the harvest will be finished in a day or two!"
Silence.
"What do you think about that?" Applejack braved her first smile in days. "Is that a good plan?"
More silence.
Applejack's lips pursed as she leaned forward. "Big Mac? Is somethin' botherin' you?"
"Mrmmff... Eeenope..." came the gruff response.
Applejack's brow furrowed. "Well it sure looks like somethin' is. What's so dang important about these old bits of machinery anyway?"
He finally looked at her, and it was while tossing an angry glare.
Applejack winced. "Okay... look... I know that these things used to belong to Pa. But ain't there more important things to be worried about?"
"Eenope."
"The apples, Big Mac!" Applejack exclaimed. "If they all rot away... then we're dun for!" She gulped. "The harvest will be plum missed! Then we won't get a single bit of income. And we'll have... we'll h-have to move..." She whimpered, tears welling up in her eyes. "I j-just can't imagine losin' everythang that Ma and Pa earned. Especially after buryin' them up on that hill. We'd... we'd have to move them too, ya r-reckon?"
Big Macintosh merely sighed. With dull eyes, he continued tweaking away at the machinery.
Applejack rubbed her wet eyes, shivering. "And the worst part is... I-I feel like I'm the only one who cares anymore." She swallowed. "Ain't you the least bit worried about the harvest? Dun you think we've got our work cut out for us?"
Silence.
Applejack sniffled as she wiped her freckles dry. "Why are you like th-this all of the sudden?" Her lips quivered. "I... I miss my big, annoying, over-talkative brother. Ain't you got anythang to say, Big Mac?" She gazed at him through her tears. "Ain't you got a story or an anecdote or a speech or anythang?"
"Eenope."
Applejack clenched her teeth. "Reckon I should just leave you alone then..."
"Eeyup."
Applejack's heart sank. With a shudder, she teetered about...
...and trotted out of the old barn.
Under a dull cloud of grumbles and sighs, Big Macintosh quietly remained behind, wrestling with trinkets from the past.