Sheriff Silverstar presided over a town that was the envy of a great portion of Equestria. Certainly, it was not as big as many areas, nor as impressively modern and shiny as the big cities, or even that rich or necessarily powerful. What it mainly was, was peaceful. A single sheriff sufficed to oversee law and justice, with never a deputy to be called nor a posse to be gathered. They were visited by a circuit judge every now and again, but he scarcely did more than slap backs and have a dash of salt and mug of cider at the local watering hole. Most of the justice needed was stern talking and the occasional fine and bit of community service.
It was better than it had been, surely. There had been a kind of posse called up when the buffalo had made their incursion into the town thanks to mistakes made. And he was willing to admit that the inflexible position of the town had caused the situation to a great extent, to say nothing of neglecting to ask questions beforehoof. But after that laughable pie war, things had become so much better. Calmer, nicer, more cheery. All thanks to the marriage of Little Strongheart and Braeburn.
That brought a smile to him when he thought of it. Peace and happiness, brought about by a wedding. Happiness on top of happiness. Glorious. It had ushered in a time of masked serenity. There was kindness, but only by tradition. No real connections. Then another happy couple was revealed. Clarion Bell and Howling Gale affirmed themselves as a loving couple, before the whole town, breaking that division between the ponies and buffalo entirely.
Since that point, he had been enjoying the way the town operated. There was no tension running through it, no well-mannered smiles hiding a strain. There was genuine camaraderie, most clearly visible in the fact that mares and cows could freely talk to bulls and stallions. They did that, and formed even more interspecies bonds. There were still same-species relationships, many, many more than the other kind. But there were enough to be very significant, and encouraging.
Silverstar nodded his way through town, walking placidly past the ponies and buffalo lining the streets. They offered waves and smiles and cheerful greetings and getting back kind greetings and tips of his hat. The day was nearly done, and his little stroll around the town had been good for him. It gladdened his heart and worked his muscles, giving him a workout and a lighter soul. His waxed moustache quivered in all the delight residing in his chest.
He found that he really needed all that, all that lightness in his heart and all the strength of body. Because when he entered his own house, he was confronted by something that sapped him body and soul.
“There you are. I was wondering where you had got to. Listen, you gotta do something ‘bout all them buffabulls.” His wife was there in his face in the living room. She was a pale blue earth pony with a nicely coifed greenish mane. She was wearing a white bonnet and modest orange gingham dress.
“Ah was doin’ mah usual rounds, Cordelia dear. Ya know that.” He kept a smile on his face with all his strength and practice. He simply walked along and picked a paper up from the coffee table and had a casual seat on the sofa. “Now, what’s all this ‘bout the buffalo?”
“I was talkin’ ‘bout them buffabulls. Lech’rous, leering brutes! I see them all the time, with their eyes raking all over me, looking at me thinkin’ all kinds of disgustin’ things! Your own wife getting leered up by those disgusting brutes.”
“Darlin’, ya know ah love ya. Love ya lots. But darlin’, ah gotta tell ya, that ain’t the case. Them buffalo is tryin’ ta be polite to ya, sayin’ ‘hello’ ta ya an’ all that. Jes like they been doin’ ta all the other mares an’ stallions and what have ya. They is a friendly folk, jes like the pony folk.”
“Oh Silverstar don’t give me that! Dontcha think yer own wife is worth bein’ ogled by them buffabulls?”
“Now Coredelia, ah didn’t say ya wasn’t purty! Ah said them buffalo wasn’t lookin’ at ya like that. They was jes bein’ polite to ya. You are a real purty mare, Cordelia. Never ferget that. It’s why ah married ya.”
Cordelia huffed softly and shook her head, sitting herself down on the couch with a grousing grumble. “Yea, ya always tell me that. But ya still don’t never take my complaints seriously. Never seen ya run in them buffs few oglin’ mares ‘r other crimes they been doin’ out there.”
“Can’t run ‘em in fer crimes they ain’t committin‘. Ain’t a crime ta smile and say ‘good day’ ta any critter ya wish. Buffalo got the same rights as any pony. And as ah uphold the law, ah make sure they have all their rights.” Silverstar scowled behind the paper, but kept his voice calm, even and diplomatic.
“Don’t you sass me, Silverstar! They ain’t ponies and that’s what matters. Sure they got rights and such. But why do they get so many rights ta be lewd and vulgar? Runnin’ ‘round like that all thumping and sweaty. T’aint right I tell you. Gotta put ‘em back into proper place. Can’t have them thinkin’ they’re too much like ponies. Already got them takin’ mares. Disgustin‘.”
“Mmm. Whatever ya say, darlin’.” Silverstar set the paper down on the couch and slowly rose from his seat. “Ah’ll be at the Salt Block. Never too good ta let them alone few too long. Shouldn’t bee too long out.”
“Oh go on an’ get. And run in one’a them jes ta keep them on their split hooves.” Cordelia snorted softly and moved over to the couch, picking up the paper and flipping to the social page, scowling at the engagement announcements that were interspecies in nature.
Silverstar sighed and shook his head as he slowly trotted through the town, down the dusty streets amid the cheerful smiles and waves. The difference between then and before was his attitude. He returned weak smiles and half-hearted waves. He seemed tired and slumping. Even his noble moustache drooped pathetically.
He finally managed to reach the Salt Block, dragging his heavy form through the saloon doors. His tired mood was in great contrast to the attitude of the establishment. There was a jaunty bit of music pouring forth from the piano, the pony at the keys hammering out the tune with a jaunty energy. All around were cheerful stallions and bulls, in the main. As it got later the population tended to become very male. A few mares filtered around and mares in bright dresses danced happily onstage. All the bulls and stallions were getting along famously, clattering mugs and tinkling salt plates, hugging or laughing or both. So cheerful. Amazing a town like that could contain a mare like his Cordelia.
“Evenin’ sheriff. What can ah get ya this evenin’?” As soon as Silverstar sat at the bar, Morton the bartender was there, a smile on his face and cheerful sparkle in his eye.
The jaunty music and sparkle in the lanky pony’s eye served to lift Silverstar up from his funk a bit, a smile finally curling up on his lips. “Well Morton, ya can get me a mug a’ that Apple Family cider ya been keeping back fer me and a little pile of local salt. No need ta be fancy.”
“Right ya are, sheriff. Comin’ right up.” Morton reached down to the floor and opened up a cellar door, his hoof steps thumping loudly on the stairs. After a time he came back up with a frothy mug of apple cider, setting it down in front of Silverstar. “Straight from Ponyville right to yer lips.” He then reached under the bar and put out a small metal plate, onto which he poured a small quantity of roughly-granulated salt. “And here, fresh outta the mines.”
“Morton, ya always got jes what everypony needs.” Silverstar lifted the glass and gave a toast to Morton, turning around to watch the dancing mares onstage. He took a small swig and smiled a little brighter. Nothing like Apple family cider to brighten the mood.
The mares on the stage danced for a short while longer before the jaunty song ended with a big hit of the keys and a flip of the skirts. As the crowd stomped their approval Silverstar took a lick of salt. A bit daring, but well within the law. There was no harm in a little daring skirt flip to give the folks a good bit of entertainment.
The piano started again. The tune was slow, somber, thoughtful. The spotlight shone brightly on the center of the stage. Into that spotlight stepped a buffalo cow. Her fur was extremely pale, bordering on white with just a light touch of brown to give her a beautifully pale café au lait tone. She wore a perfectly tailored chanteuse dress in muted purple and wine, but also had a beaded headband with two feathers, indicating she had performed tribal entrance ceremonies and come of age. She opened her mouth and began to sing in a warm, sweet tone. “You don’t bring me flowers. You don’t sing me love songs…”
The song was a duet, a very somber and heavy duet, sung by the buffalo lass and the stallion at the piano. The subject cut very deeply, forcing Silverstar to lick up his salt and ask for more, while drinking large swallows of the sweet cider, which was suddenly a little bit less sweet.
By the time the song was over, and not a few stalwarts in the audience were sobbing, Silverstar had completed three plates of salt and killed off the large mug. He did not order anything else, just turned back to the bar and ignored the new, once more happy, tune coming from the piano. From high to low to high to low again. It had been quite a day.
“Appleoosan cider please.” The voice… Silverstar turned to find the buffalo maid chanteuse beside him, standing at the bar with a smile. She turned aside and nodded. “Good evening mister sheriff. Did you enjoy the show? I’m new here and I was very nervous about performing.”
“Ma’am… ah must say ya have a beautiful voice. And… ya look darn good, if ah may be so bold, o’course.”
“Here you go. Ain’t she something, sheriff? She came in askin’ fer work, I heard her sing and… well, y’all see the result.” Morton smiled proudly, nodding his head as he set down the mug of local cider.
“Morton, s’like ah told ya. Ya always got what everypony needs. She is magnificent!” Silverstar looked back to the buffalo cow. “Ah’m so sorry ma’am. Excuse me bein’ rude. Sheriff Silverstar. Ah’m the law ‘round these parts.”
“A great pleasure to make your acquaintance sheriff. My name is Cactus Blossom. I know, it’s not very pretty. Who wants to be named after something prickly?” Cactus self-consciously fiddled with the straightened mop of hair between her ears.
“No ma’am! Ah think it’s a right purty name.” Silverstar answered very quickly, shaking his head very emphatically.
“Th-thank you. That’s very polite of you to say.” Cactus sipped slowly at her cider, relaxing against the bar and looking around.
“Ah mean it. Ah’ve seen some very purty cactus flowers out there.” Silverstar turned back to the bar. “Morton? Can ah get another mug a’ that Apple Family cider?”
“Right away, sheriff.” Down he went to the cellar and came back up with another mug of cider. “Any more salt?”
“No no, I am quite good on salt.” Silverstar started to take a drink, but suddenly found himself looking across at Cactus Blossom again. He found himself offering the mug. “Ma’am? Ah don’t mean ta be forward, but would you care to try some a’ this Apple Family cider? Straight from Ponyville. Morton likes ta save me a little cask of it when it comes around.”
“O-oh… Are you certain? I have heard that it is rare, and very delicious.”
“Ah’m sure. The casks come in from Braeburn, who gets ‘em as part of being in the family, but he don’t ever seem ta want it. Go ahead. Have a bit.”
“Thank you very much, sheriff.” Cactus took the offered mug in dainty hooves and took a very small sip. “Oh! It’s… it’s delicious! Thank you for sharing this.”
“It’s no problem at all, miss Cactus ma’am. Ya gotta share, after all. But, folks ‘round these parts don’t like bein’ reminded of that awful song.” Silverstar and Morton both gave a short laugh.
“I’m afraid I don’t understand that reference. I am… not from the local tribe. I am from a related tribe but from further away. I came here because I had heard it was much more exciting with more opportunities for work and more chances to meet others besides buffalo.”
“Well, ah think y’all will find our lil’ town a nice, friendly place. We all get along here real well.”
“Oh yes, I know! The other day, I saw a buffalo bull with a mare. It was very touching. And I heard all the peace came from a buffalo cow marrying a stallion.”
“Yep. Those two. Braeburn Apple and Little Strongheart Apple. Good couple. Ah’ve known ‘em since before they was married.” Silverstar smiled, taking a sip from the mug of cider, without even bothering to wipe the edge.
Silverstar and Cactus Blossom continued to talk, for a good amount of time, without needing to order anything else. The stallion gave numerous amusing anecdotes, including a detailed account of the quick and farcical war of pies. That got Cactus laughing with glorious abandon, her laughter just as sweet as her singing.
As the hour grew later Silverstar turned his thoughts toward home. But the very notion of it seemed very distasteful, even more so than it had earlier. But still, he had no choice. He rose up from the bar and tipped his hat. “It pains me ta say it, but ah must get along ta home. It was a great pleasure ta meetcha.”
“Oh no, the pleasure was mine, sheriff. You are a very charming, generous and engaging stallion.” Cactus rose and offered her hoof for a parting shake.
Silverstar looked down at the dainty split hoof, his own coming up with a small tremor of hesitation. He brought it over and touched it against the two rigid toes, frog against the fleshy equivalents on her hooves. The dexterous toes gave a short wiggle, probably just as a natural reflex. The sensation was… pleasant. “Ma’am… it’s been a great honor.” With a nod and a smile, Silverstar stepped away from the bar and strolled out into the town.
Sheriff Silverstar presided over a town that was the envy of a great portion of Equestria. He looked over his town and smiled a little bit. As he walked along the dusty streets things seemed a bit brighter, even if only under the glow of Luna’s moon. He still felt the cloven press on his hoof. He was dancing on air, all the way to the front door of his house.
The house was dark, and silent, looming over his head like a ghost. There was an aura about it, like he could feel Cordelia through the walls. The cloying, choking prejudice radiating out, reminding him of what he could expect within as soon as she awoke. He looked down at his hoof, considering the touch for a moment longer. Then he sullenly pulled the door open and slipped into the loveless blackness.