The Pony Pull
Admiral Biscuit
Rather than have a meal at one of the public houses, Ambrosia led Silver Spanner straight to the spiral tower. Already, a crowd had gathered, and wherever there was a crowd in Ponyville, enterprising ponies set up a makeshift market. Wagons cluttered both sides of the road, and ponies were eagerly trying to interest every passer-by into purchasing their wares. Both mares swiveled their heads back and forth, trying to take it all in.
Spotting Gala Appleby—one of her cousins—Ambrosia waved and then trotted across the street. After exchanging a nuzzle, she introduced Silver Spanner, who was examining the golden-yellow apples neatly stacked on top of a flour barrel.
“How much?” Silver asked, floating one off the top of the pile with her aura.
Gala's ears twitched as her eyes darted between Ambrosia, who had a small frown on her face, and the belt of plumber's tools slung across Silver Spanner's hindquarters. “Sixth bit each, or a dozen for a bit-three.”
“Hmm.” Silver twirled the apple around in her field and looked at the others in the stack to see if any of them were more enticing. “I'll try it—haven't had a golden apple before.”
“They're the best.” Gala said.
“For pies,” Ambrosia told her.
“And you can eat them on their own—they're soft and sweet.” Gala turned back to Silver Spanner. “Do you like pears?”
The unicorn nodded.
“They're a lot like pears. Trust me, you'll like it.”
“They are good,” Ambrosia admitted. “But they're the best in pies.”
“Well, I'll try it.” Silver Spanner reached back with her field and set a sixth-bit on the counter. “Thanks!”
She took a bite and started nodding as she chewed.
“See? I can get you some more so you'll have them for home. I can even deliver them right to your house if you want. Or if you don't want them fresh, I've got apple preserves. Come see me at the market! I’m there every week.”
While Silver Spanner was finishing up her apple, Ambrosia leaned in and nuzzled Gala again. “Thanks, cuz.”
• • •
The pair continued along the street, with Ambrosia occasionally waving to ponies she knew, until they got to the main clearing where the pull had been set up.
A course had been laid out with parallel rows of haybales, and pairs of colored flags—attached with a length of twine—showed the starting and stopping positions. A hastily-constructed set of grandstands overlooked the field, and there were already ponies sitting in them, having claimed good spots early.
Closer to the course, a brightly-colored showpony’s wagon was parked behind the far row of bales, with a temporary stage jutting out of the side of it.
Ambrosia only spared it a passing glance; she was looking around to find a market stand that was selling something more filling than a single apple for dinner. She was hungry and she was sure that Silver Spanner was, too—and she meant to make good on her offer of dinner for the unicorn.
Then her nose caught the unmistakable smell of greasy oatburgers and she groaned when she saw the line but that was how you knew that they were good.
She turned, expecting Silver Spanner to still be beside her, but the unicorn had wandered off and was over at a table looking at harnesses, or else the stallion who was standing patiently as one of the salesmares measured him.
What's she want a harness for anyway? Ambrosia glanced back at the oatburger line which wasn't getting any shorter, then decided that she might as well take a look herself because the hand-me-down she had for her wagon wasn't in the best shape. So far Apple Honey had been able to patch it back together, but every time she did, she reminded Ambrosia that it was completely worn out and one day it wasn't going to be fixable any more.
Now was the best time to get a new one anyway; she had extra bits because it had been a good year for construction.
As soon as she reached the table, the craftsmare's eyes shifted off Silver Spanner and to her direction, and a hoof came up in greeting. “Looking for a new harness? All of ours are tough enough for any kind of work you can imagine, and best of all they've got an ironclad guarantee of one year's flawless performance. Free repair if it breaks. Nopony else offers a deal like that.”
“Well . . . I've got a little gambo wagon, for market, you know?”
The mare grinned. “We're the right ponies for the job, trust me. Something like that, our harness'll last a lifetime, easy.” She stuck her hoof out. “I'm Side Check. Wanna get measured? I can do it.”
“Maybe.” She looked at the harnesses on the table. “Do you do breastband harnesses?”
“If you want. We can make any harness type that interests you. Why, we even make pegasus harnesses.”
“How long does it take?”
“Month, maybe two. Depends on how many orders we get. Gonna get into the busy season soon, so now’s the best time to order.”
“Let me see what my friend wants.” Ambrosia turned to Silver Spanner, who was still looking over the harness pieces that were arranged on their table. “She might be interested in one, too. Hey, Silver.”
“Yeah?”
“Looking for a harness, or do you want to get something to eat?”
“I could use one.” She sighed. “I've got a breastband that's pretty nice, but it's too light for a wagonload of pipe. I'd rather have a D-ring but I haven't been able to find a good one in town. Most of 'em go to earth ponies, and if they haven't worn them out completely before they try and sell them, they're too big for me. Plus it's hard to find a split yoke.”
“Why would you want one?”
Silver Spanner reached up and tapped her horn.
“Oh.” Ambrosia glanced over at Side Check, who had moved just far enough away to be respectful but not at all out of earshot. “Well, why don't you have her make you one?”
“That's kinda expensive. If I sold my breastband first, I'd have the bits, but I can't go without a harness.”
“I bet she'll work on spec.”
Side Check nodded. “It’s a third down. Just 'cause you're a unicorn.”
Ambrosia flicked her tail. “What's that got to do with it?”
Side Check held up a hoof. “It's just that not many unicorns want yokes, so I can't sell a split yoke to somepony else. No earth pony's gonna want it.”
“That's fair,” Silver Spanner said. “But I can’t, not now. I’ve got enough bits for the deposit, but I don’t know if I’d be able to afford to pay you once it was done.”
Side Check’s ears drooped. “Oh. Well, thanks for looking anyway. Here.” She reached off the table and got a card with her cutie mark on it. “So you’ll remember who to ask for when you want a harness. And one for you, too,” she said, giving a second to Ambrosia.
• • •
By the time Ambrosia got the oatburgers, Silver Spanner had moved across to Sweet Gale's beer booth, where she'd bought a stoneware jug full of beer. Ambrosia prodded her with a hoof to get her attention and then pointed to the bleachers—the bags of oatburgers were in her mouth.
She felt a slight tingle on her lips as Silver Spanner grabbed them in her field and her first instinct was to bite down a little bit harder but she trusted her new friend not to drop the food or the beer, so she opened her mouth enough to let the bags float free. “What did you get?”
“Barleywine. Not well-aged, she said, but still good.”
“All for you?”
Silver Spanner smiled. “I'll trade ya half the beer for one of those oatburgers.”
“You've got a deal.” Ambrosia looked down at the benches. “Rough could've knocked together better bleachers than this with a blindfold on.”
“As long as I don't fall through, that's all I care about.”
“Or get splinters in your rump.” Ambrosia scraped her shoe over the top of the bench. “Were they planning on planting this again after the pull was over? This board’s so green it’s about to sprout leaves.”
“Maybe.” Silver Spanner sat down and set the food and beer in front of them. “Probably have to move that when more ponies show up.”
“The only place that oatburger is going to move is into my stomach.” Ambrosia reached down for one of the bags. “I'm starved.”
• • •
They'd finished the oatburgers and gotten the beer jug refilled before Booth Barker finally stood in front of the eager crowd. “Welcome, fillies and gentlecolts, to the Ponyville Pony Pull!”
He paused long enough for the applause to die down, and then pointed a hoof off to the far end of the course, where a stone-boat loaded with worn-out millstones waited. “The rules are simple, everypony,” he continued “Gotta start with the nose of the boat at the red flag and get it to the red flag on the other end. Don't make it on the first try and you get a second, then you're disqualified. We're gonna have mares first, then stallions, then anypony who wants to try—teams, colts, fillies, it don't matter.
“We’re gonna start with a little bit of a demonstration. Dyno, here, is Equestria’s former champ, and he’s graciously agreed to help us all out and show anypony who hasn’t seen one before how it’s done. So let’s put your hooves down for Dyno!”
The stallion snorted, dug his hooves in and lurched forward. The chain yanked tight with a loud snap and the boat lurched forward, easily covering the distance to the flag.
He took a step back so that the harness-fillies could unhook him, and then trotted off the course and around the end where he could watch the competition. Meanwhile, a pair of colts moved the flags to the new position of the stone-boat.
“Isn’t that going to tear up the grass?” Silver Spanner asked.
“Yes; it's going to be a field of mud by the time the stallions have their turn. That's part of the reason why they like to have the mares go first—that, and it guarantees that everypony's going to stay around for longer.” Ambrosia grinned. “Plus, it's always fun to see who the strongest mare in town is.”
“Maybe I should try.”
“You?”
Silver Spanner blushed. “Well, maybe not this year. But if I keep pulling around wagonloads of pipe, you think I'd get stronger eventually.”
They turned their heads forward as Booth Barker announced the first contestant, Bell Perin. The crowd began stomping their hooves as she stepped up to the stone-boat and took her position in front of it. She had to back up one step, watching her hooves carefully so that she didn't step on her singletree, and then the fillies lifted it up and fastened the chain.
Bell Perin dug her hooves into the grass and tugged forward, the stone-boat dragging along behind her. Even from their seats, Ambrosia and Silver Spanner could see that she was winded when she crossed the second flag; when she came to a stop her sides were heaving and her legs were trembling from the effort.
The two fillies trotted up to unhitch her, which gave her enough time to catch her breath and walk off the field with her head held high.
Quake picked up the boat from where she’d left off, stepping into position on the clean grass and moving back so that her harness could be attached. Unlike Bell Perin, she didn’t rush with pulling her load; she shifted her weight around and dug her hooves into the sod before putting her head down and biting her lip. A moment later she dropped her rump and pushed off, easily dragging the load the requisite distance.
She backed slightly and hooked her singletree with a hind hoof, freeing it from the hook, and before the fillies could even get to her, she was already walking back to the staging area.
“That's not the way you're supposed to do it,” Ambrosia said.
“Does it really make a difference?”
“I guess not. It’s not against the rules. But ponies like things the traditional way around here. She's just showing off.”
“Traditional.” Silver Spanner's voice was bitter. “Don't I know it.”
They both turned their attention back to the field as Blueberry Frosting took her position. While she hadn't gone to the extreme of cropping her tail to keep it out of the harness, she had knotted it up in a sloppy bun, giving her hindquarters a rabbit-like look.
She proudly high-stepped her way down the competition field and carefully backed into position, launching herself down the course as soon as she heard the ring catch. She had a strange, dropping and thrusting rhythm that lurched the weight down the course, and to the ending flag.
“Do you know her?”
“I know of her. She's one of those ponies who gets an idea in her head and then goes and does it for a while until she gets another idea in her head. She probably saw a pony pull last year and got it in her head that she'd compete this year.”
“So she's not very good?”
Ambrosia shrugged. “She at least prepares for whatever new hobby she's going to try.” She snorted. “No wonder I saw her dragging logs around once. I thought that maybe she'd gotten a bit of extra work logging but I guess not.”
The third pull brought the stone-boat too close to the end of the course to do a complete pull.
“How are they going to turn that around?” Silver Spanner asked.
“Don't have to. It can be pulled from both ends.” Ambrosia pointed down to the chewed-up sod. “Everypony who pulled first got a bit of an unfair advantage, since the course was clear. Now it's going to be a matter of not only being able to pull the weight, but getting your hooves well-planted. And it's going to be really messy by the end. You'll see.”
“They wear special shoes, don’t they?”
Ambrosia nodded. “Big caulks, and some ponies even have extensions on the edge, to give them a bit more grip. Probably nopony here does, but I’ve heard at some of the serious competitions, they do. There’s a whole lot of rules just about the shoes, and the right choice can make or break a pull.”
Neither of them had noticed the next competitor until the loud clang of the harness pulling tight caught their ears, and Sun Streak dragged the load almost to the flag before slipping.
“She's still got a second try,” Booth reminded the audience. “If she wants to.”
Sun Streak nodded her head and shifted her hooves around, feeling for good soil, then she charged against the traces again, but it was just too much weight for her. She hung her head when the stone-boat ground to a halt far short of the goal, and plodded off the field.
“Let's have a cheer for our competitors,” Booth said unnecessarily. “We're going to add a bit more weight, another half-stone, and we'll see who can move that.”
Silver Spanner and Ambrosia paid little attention to the field, choosing instead to get another jug of beer, and they weren't alone in that. A line had already formed, and Sweet Gale was filling orders as quickly as she could.
They didn't make it back to their seats before Bell Perin made her second pull, but watched instead from the side of the field.
When she left the field, victorious, the two mares made their way back up the grandstands to seats near where they'd been sitting before, and Silver Spanner pulled the cork out of the jug then passed it to Ambrosia.
By the time Quake had won the competition, the two mares had finished their third jug of beer and watched as a juggler entertained the crowd while the field was set up for the stallions. Dyno hauled the stone-boat back to the start line and a trio of mares harnessed three abreast dragged a rake down the course to smooth it out some.
“They could move the course over,” Silver Spanner observed. “Give the stallions some fresh ground to start with.”
“It’s more fun when they get muddy,” Ambrosia said.
It didn’t take too long for them to get everything in place. The colts and Dyno rolled a millstone off the stone-boat and onto a little sledge, which Dyno towed out of the way. A second set of flags, spaced a bit further apart, were placed on the haybales, and the juggler finished her act and bowed to the crowd, then moved out of the way as Booth Barker stepped back from behind his wagon.
“First up, Bright Mac—Ponyville's champion. Last year he pulled seven stones—let's see if he can do it again.”
“That's my cousin,” Ambrosia said as he stepped up the stone-boat. It only had four stones on it now, and those proved to be no challenge as he dragged it past the second flag, accompanied by a thunder of hoof-stomps.
As the assistants moved the flags down the field, Booth Barker announced Apple Bread, the next competitor. “He's stronger than he looks,” Ambrosia said as he walked to the sledge.
“How do you know?”
“He's my cousin, too.” She sighed. “Makes it hard to find a date sometimes: I think I'm related to most of the stallions in this town.”
They both turned their attention forward as the chain snapped taut, and Apple Bread dug his hooves into the dirt, kicking up muddy divots as he yanked the millstones forward. “I don't think he's gonna make it with five,” Silver Spanner said.
Ambrosia shrugged. “He won't win, that's for sure. I don't know why he's even trying, besides that he’s a stubborn traditionalist and his grandsire was a puller.”
Another stallion took his turn before the stone-boat had reached the end of the course, and Silver Spanner turned to Ambrosia.
“Is he your cousin, too?”
Ambrosia looked down at the bulky stallion walking towards the wagon. “Yup. Bushel.”
He made it to the end with little difficulty, and he was followed by Golden Delicious. “That's Gala Appleby's sire.”
“Really?”
“Sure is. He's the first one to have planted Golden Delicious trees in Ponyville, or so she says. That's why she loves them so much. I hope she's watching.”
They both cheered and stomped as he dragged the stone-boat, and then Booth Barker announced the final competitor, a stallion by the name of Moon Dust. Ambrosia leaned forward. “He's not related.”
“I saw him first.”
Silver Spanner and Ambrosia both started laughing and gave each other a hoof before turning their attention back to the pull. Moon Dust struggled at first; he dropped to a knee when a chunk of sod tore out from underhoof, and then he found purchase and yanked the load forward gaining speed the whole way.
Dyno went back out to drag the stone-boat to the very end of the field. Meanwhile, a gang of colts was rolling a new millstone to the boat. One of them stood out; a brick-red colt that was easily a head taller than anypony else on the stone gang.
“Who's he?”
Ambrosia looked where she was pointing. “McIntosh. He's Bright Mac's foal.”
“He's gonna be big.” She looked thoughtfully at the yoke on his back. “Is he competing?”
“I guess so. If he does, he's gonna win something.” They both watched as he shoved the millstone to the center by himself before dropping back to his hooves. “Unless he tires himself out before.”
“Dunno what they eat out there on the farm, but they don't ever seem to get tired. I bet Bright Mac worked all day and if it's still light out by the time he goes home, he'll work until sundown.”
“Five millstones, folks. Pay attention to the field; Bright Mac is up first.”
Five stones proved too much for Apple Bread; he managed to jerk the load forward a whole ponylength before his hooves slipped out from under him and he fell. After the flags were moved, he gamely tried a second time but had no better success, and retired from the field with his head hung low.
Five and a half was too much for Moon Dust, and Bushel disqualified with six, leaving only Bright Mac and Golden Delicious to compete at six and a half.
Golden Delicious struggled but then pulled the boat beyond the ending flag, and when the cheers had died down, Silver Spanner asked why.
“He gave Bright Mac a bad start.” She pointed a hoof down to the chewed-up course. “He's not going to get any grip there.”
“Isn't that unfair?”
Ambrosia shook her head. “It's smart. He had to work a little bit harder to get it there, but he's putting Bright Mac at a disadvantage.”
The stands were already shaking from all the hoof-stomps as Bright Mac examined the track then thoughtfully backed up to the boat. His head was low and he blew out a snort then leaned into his harness and jerked the stone-boat forwards, his hooves slipping almost immediately. He doggedly dug in and made it a little bit further, tugging by what looked like sheer force of will until the stone-boat jerked him to a stop.
A hush fell over the crowd, and he just stood there with his head down, studying the track and digging at the ground with a forehoof.
“One more try, Bright Mac.”
He nodded and took a tiny step back, enough to slacken the chain just slightly, then he dropped his hindquarters and erupted forward, easily reaching the second flag.
“He knew he was going to lose too much on that patch, so he used his second pull to win.” Ambrosia grinned. “Pretty smart of him.”
“Do you think he's going to win the competition?”
She nodded. “Golden Delicious won't pull seven. No chance.”
True to her words, his effort was futile. He dragged the boat a ponylength each time, but no more. The first time, he tried to dig out some better traction for himself like Bright Mac had, and when that attempt failed, he collapsed on the course and sat there for a minute getting his breath back before he stood back up and backed enough to let the helper get the chain loose.
The boat was too far downfield for another attempt, giving Bright Mac the best possible starting position, with fairly clean ground underhoof.
As soon as he launched himself it was obvious that he was going to win, and he did, easily passing the flag that marked the end of his pull.
He stayed hitched to the stone-boat, keeping enough tension in the chain that the assistant couldn't unhook him, and when she went around to ask him to back up, he leaned down and whispered in her ear.
“What do you think he's doing?”
Ambrosia pointed to where the colts were loading another half-stone onto a small sledge. “He's setting a new record for Ponyville. Or at least trying to.”
Dyno dragged it down the field, scraping up against the bales as he got it alongside the stone-boat, and as soon as he'd stopped, McIntosh hefted the broken millstone up and then stood back out of the way.
The flags were moved and he dug in, jerking the load forward and past the flag without too much difficulty, then he backed up and let himself be unhitched. He gave a brief nod acknowledging the crowd, then plodded off the field and back behind the banners.
• • •
There was a break before the exhibition part of the competition started. This gave them time to move the course over, closer to the bleachers, which put it on fresh, untrodden ground. It also, as Ambrosia cynically observed, gave everymare a chance to go down and get a closer look at the stallions who'd competed.
Silver Spanner carefully climbed out of the bleachers, following Ambrosia. She was careful where she put her hooves, because besides the shoddy, slightly unstable bleachers, she'd had more to drink than she ought to have, and it would hardly make a good impression on anypony if she tumbled down.
There was already a crowd of mares gathered around Bright Mac, and she craned her neck to try and get a better look, although without standing on somepony's back, she wasn't going to see anything.
“Over this way,” Ambrosia suggested. “Unless you want to buy some apples.”
“Apples?” Silver Spanner glanced back over at her new friend. “What's that got to—oh.”
“You didn't think he competed just for the fun of it, did you?” Indeed, there was a small kiosk set up and a gamboge filly hawking apples to the cluster of mares gathered around, hoping to get a look at this year's champion.
“I bet once he gets cleaned off, he's gonna start selling apples, and I bet that there's gonna be a run on 'em. Before then, though, there isn't gonna be so many mares around the losers.”
“Maybe I can get lucky and hose off one of them,” Silver Spanner said, then covered her mouth as a blush formed on her cheeks.
“Ooh, got your sights on a stallion? Which one?”
The unicorn muttered something too quiet to hear, and Ambrosia's grin grew bigger.
“Gonna make me guess, huh. Hmm. Bushel's cute, and he'd be fun for a couple of nights.”
Silver Spanner shook her head. “He’s too big. He’d break me.”
“Must be Apple Bread, then. Good thing he's my cousin.”
“He's not with anypony, is he?”
“Dunno—we aren't that close.” She stuck her head up and looked around. “Uh, okay, he's gonna be off this way. 'Scuse me, coming through.”
Silver Spanner followed through the little hole in the crowd that Ambrosia had opened, and then the two of them were right alongside the little rope fence keeping the crowd back. It wasn't much of a barrier to cross, and as soon as she got to the little area where Apple Bread was getting unharnessed, she hopped over the barrier and after a moment's hesitation, Silver Spanner followed.
At first, she kept back a little bit as Ambrosia congratulated him on the attempt. There was no need to sugarcoat her words; he knew that he didn't have a chance of winning against Bright Mac or Bushel.
“Some of the bigger towns, I hear they have weight classes,” he said. “And maybe if I went to Manehattan or something I could compete with other stallions my size and maybe I could even win.”
“You did good.” Ambrosia reached up and hugged him, then winked at Silver Spanner. “Want some help getting your harness off?”
“I'll help,” Silver Spanner offered, moving in and reaching for his breaststrap. That was one of the hardest for an earth pony to unfasten, she knew. In that, at least, she had an advantage, because it was no trouble for her to put on her harness with magic.
Ambrosia went around to his other side and loosened the belly band and pole straps, then moved back to let Silver Spanner reach under him to unfasten his quarter straps, which she did with her telekinesis.
He relaxed slightly once the aura under his belly had winked out, and sat on his rump so that he could slide the whole harness down his back. There was an art to that, and it was second-nature to nearly every farmpony in town.
Apple Bread picked up a bucket of water and dumped it over his head, then shook his mane out. Without being asked, Ambrosia took the bucket towards a town well, leaving the stallion and the unicorn alone.
“So, um.” Apple Bread eyed her tool belt. “You're . . . I think I've seen you in town. Carpenter, right?”
“Plumber—apprenticed under Hydro Jet.”
“Huh.” He looked at her belt again. “Never seen a unicorn plumber.”
Her ears drooped, and she flicked her tail in annoyance. “Well, get used to it, 'cause I'm not going anywhere.”
“Just doesn't seem right,” he said. “No offense.”
Silver Spanner glared at him. “I'm not telling you what to do with your life, so don't tell me what to do with mine, okay? Only my mom gets to do that.” She reached over to the next changing area with her field and grabbed Bushel's water bucket, and emptied it onto Apple Bread's head. “Jerk.”
• • •
Ambrosia found her near the spiral tower. She was sitting in the shadows near the door, her head down, and she jerked away from Ambrosia's touch.
“It's okay.”
“It's not okay.” Silver Spanner leaned down and unfastened her tool belt, letting it drop to the ground. “I ought to have left this dumb thing at home. Then maybe I could pretend to fit in.”
There wasn't anything that Ambrosia could say to that, so she sat down next to Silver Spanner instead.
“Sometimes I wish that I'd never gotten my cutie mark. I oughtta just get on a train to Canterlot. They probably have unicorn plumbers there. But they probably wouldn't like me, either, 'cause I'm from a hick town.”
“They'll get used to you.”
Silver Spanner spat on the ground. “Sometimes I wonder.”
“You think you're the only one with problems? Roughie—when I hired him as an apprentice, everypony told me I was out of my mind. Riven asked if he was my new coltfriend, 'cause there wasn't any other reason I'd have him hanging around, and the first time I left him alone on a scaffold, Square Cut took his ladder. And now they're practically best friends.”
“Well, did you ever ask Roughie how he felt about it?”
“I didn't have to. I could see it on his face every day when he came to work. And so I had him do things that he was good at, and pretty soon he'd proved himself to everypony on the crew and now everypony gets along just fine.” She nuzzled Silver Spanner's cheek.
Silver Spanner dragged her tool belt around with her hoof. “I know it'll get better eventually. Ponies will learn to like me, or I guess they'll learn to live with leaky pipes. Or else I will move to Canterlot. I hear that they've got pipes to and from every house, so I'd never be without work to do.” Her ears perked back up. “Maybe even in the palace. Wouldn't that be something.
“I just—I was having a good time. And I thought that maybe . . . but you saw how Side Check was ignoring me, 'cause she probably didn't think that a unicorn would ever want a harness. And I couldn't even prove her wrong. So I didn't let that get to me.
“But Apple Bread. I thought maybe, maybe we'd be kind of kindred souls, since he's doing something that . . . well, sorry, but something that he's not good at. So maybe he’d understand doing something because you wanted to even if it wasn’t something everypony expected you to do.”
“He just does it because his grandsire did. He's just not big enough to win and never will be.”
“He’s a jerk! Ooh, I ought to have just bucked him in the muzzle.”
“He got bucked. I asked him where you were and as soon as he asked me why I was even hanging out with you, I guessed what had happened. I said that you were better company than a tribalist and got him right in the shoulder.”
Silver Spanner’s ears went up. “Which one?”
“His right. Why?”
“'Cause if I see him again, I want to hit him in the same spot.” She picked her tool belt back up. “Well, since we're already here, want to see the rest of the pull? I hear cheering, so they must be back at it.”
• • •
They arrived just in time to see three fillies nicknamed the Lavender Trio futilely attempting to drag a single millstone. What they lacked in strength, though, they made up for in pure enthusiasm, coaxing each other on even though it was obvious to anypony in the crowd that the only way that millstone was going to move was if somepony helped push the stone-boat.
After far more attempts than any adult pony would have been given, Booth Barker finally announced that their time was up, and they were still in high spirits as they proudly walked off the field, their doubletree and equalizer trailing behind them.
“Cute fillies,” Silver Spanner said. “Let me guess, they're your cousins, too.”
“Nope. Hardly any flower fillies in my family tree.”
“Next up, our penultimate contestants—Tropical Spring and Sunny Smiles, pulling three stones.”
Ambrosia leaned over. “What's a penultimate?”
“It's the next-to-last thing.”
“Oh.” She took a sip from the beer jug. “Why didn't he say that?”
“It sounds fancier. Hey—McIntosh’s wearing a harness now.”
Sure enough, he had a full harness on, lacking only the side traces. He helped his fellows load the millstones onto the stone-boat, and then went back to the staging area, and if Silver Spanner craned her neck, she could just see where Bright Mac was helping attach the side-traces.
“You think he’s the last competitor? Or are they just getting ready to tow their wagons home?”
Whatever answer Ambrosia was about to give was overshadowed by the thunder of hooves as the two mares leaned into their harnesses and started pulling. Even Silver Spanner watched closely as they placed their hooves in tandem, only going off-rhythm when one of them slipped.
“How about that? Tropical Spring and Sunny Smiles went the distance with three stones.”
“Maybe you and me can be a team next year,” Ambrosia suggested. “That would be fun.”
“I don't think we'd win.”
“So? It'd still be fun.”
“How do they decide who wins in the open pull, anyway?”
“It’s done based on the percentage of your body weight you pull. So sometimes foals and lightweights have a bit of an advantage. That’s what Apple Bread ought to do, a team competition, and then he’d actually have a chance to win.”
“We're going to have to load the boat back up for our last competitor, folks. You've seen him already, loading up the millstones. In his first competition, McIntosh!”
Even though everypony had been looking at him during the entirety of the competition, when he walked out to the stone-boat alone, he suddenly seemed to realize that he was in front of everypony, and Silver Spanner thought that his cheeks got a little brighter as he put his head back down and plodded over to the stone-boat.
He looked at the millstones and then nodded to one of the harness-fillies, who trotted off to the end of the field to fetch another half-stone. Even Booth Barker was at a loss for words as it was brought out and loaded.
McIntosh backed up, kicking his singletree back out of his way until he was right up against the front of the stone-boat, and then he waited for it to be hooked.
He leaned forward just slightly, tightening the traces, and then relaxed, letting the lines slack slightly. He stood motionless for just a moment, long enough that the entire audience took a collective breath, and then he put his head down and began pulling.
He fought his way along the course, muscles quivering with the strain and by the time he reached the halfway point, the cheers and hoofstomps threatened to bring the whole grandstands crashing down.
As soon as he crossed the finish line, the gamboge filly leapt across the bales that lined the course and wrapped herself around his legs in a big hug. McIntosh leaned down and lightly nuzzled her neck, shifting back slightly to let the fillies unhitch him from the stone-boat.
• • •
Ambrosia finished off the last of the jug of beer, then set it down so that Silver Spanner could pick it up with her field. Sweet Gale would give them a twelfth-bit back if they returned the jug, and while that wasn’t a lot, it wasn’t nothing, either.
Before leaving the grandstands, Silver Spanner patted her tool belt to make sure that nothing had fallen out, then followed Ambrosia down the stands. She crossed over to Sweet Gale’s beer booth and once she’d gotten her coin, she considered going across to the funnel cake booth where they were offering the last of their food at deep discounts, but her eye fixed on where Side Check was breaking down her booth.
“I bet she’d still be willing to measure you for a harness,” Ambrosia said.
“If she thought she was gonna get a sale.”
“I’ve been thinking. You said that you had a nice breastcollar harness, right?”
Silver Spanner nodded.
“What if—I need a new one. Mine is practically falling apart, and one of these days I’m gonna be on my way home from market and just lose my wagon, and Apple Honey isn’t gonna be able to fix it. So what if I said I’d buy yours. We’re about the same size, I’m sure it would fit me. And if it’s as nice as you say.”
“It’s practically new. It’s just not good enough, you know, for hauling pipe.”
“Well, I’ll buy it from you. I’ll give you a good price for it, and then you’ll have enough to get a new harness for yourself—one that will last you a lifetime. And I won’t even take it until after you’ve got your new harness.”
“Really?”
Ambrosia nodded. “Really. Filly scout’s honor. Now, come on—let’s get you measured for it.”