"So, that about covers that, y'all!" Applejack paced through a group of eight ponies gathered along the eastern half of the orchards. "Three of you will work the north fields. You three will work the west fields. The remaining two will stick around here with Big Mac and I and we'll work on the east orchards." She scuffled to a stop in the soft grass of Sweet Apple Acres. "Remember how I showed y'all. Line of the baskets. Buck the trees clean, one by one. Collect the baskets in the wagon and then move on to the next line of trees."
One country mare raised her hoof.
"Yeah?" Applejack cocked her head to the side. "You got a question? By all means, ask away."
She cleared her throat. "Miss Applejack, do you wish for us to be finished by sundown?"
"Heh... okay. Let's make one thang clear." Applejack smirked aside at Big Mac before facing the mare again. "Let's cut this whole 'Miss Applejack' schtick. I ain't yer lord or duchess or any of that nonsense. I'm just a pony on a farm needed extra help in getting the latest harvest done. So I'm tossin' bits yer way in hopes that we can all benefit. No need to think of me as anythang other than a kindly neighbor. And—to answer yer question... heh... heck no. We ain't gonna be anywhere near close to finishin' these here orchards by sundown. But, today especially, I'd like to feel thangs out. See what our mutual pace is. Then—once I've gotten an assessment after a day or two—I'll figure out how we'll move thangs from there. The ultimate plan—I reckon—is to work our way all around the farm's orchards all clock-wise-like. Make any sense?"
The group murmured amongst themselves and nodded.
"Now, Granny's fixed a table of refreshments in the center of the farm," Applejack said, pointing nebulously towards the family household and the front porch. "There're outhouses situated just between the house and the barn. Whatever ya do, dun wear yerself out stupid. Last thang I want is a helpin' hoof droppin' dead from heat exhaustion, ya feel me? I like my apple-wranglers just like I like my apples—juicy and ready to roll."
The air filled with chuckles.
"So... I guess that's it, y'all!" Applejack turned to Big Mac. "You got anythang to add, Big Mac?"
The large stallion smiled and shook his head. "Eeenope."
"Very well, then." Applejack pointed. "Now git, y'all! There be some apples to drop!"
"After puttin' an ad out on the Town Hall bulletin board, we fetched ourselves a bunch of field workers," Applejack said. She scratched the back of her head while breathing in the crisp air wafting over the lonesome hilltop. "Well... maybe not a bunch... more around eight or nine or so. Big Macintosh felt like hirin' more, but I talked him into keepin' the numbers low. I like it much better this way. I dun feel like we need an army of apple-buckers to shout through a bull-horn at. But—rather—it's more like we've got a small group of swell partners helpin' us with the hard labor. And it's helpin' them out too, y'know? By goin' small... I figure we can afford to pay them more. Seems like the sort of thang Fancy Pants would do... and he's the only reason we can do this at all. So I guess you could say we're spreadin' the love around as healthily as we can. And y'know what...?"
She smiled crookedly, freckles glistening in the sun.
"...it's workin' mighty well. A heck of a lot better than I thought. We even found time to chat it out and share stories between the fruit-gatherin'. Some really nice folk lendin' a hoof here on the farm. Many of them have lived in Ponyville all their lives; they just stick it out and when the local fields need extra help plowin' or pickin' or buckin'—they drop their names in the hat, get hired for a season, and that's how they get by. And here I was always foolish enough to think that the only 'farmers' who lived in this here town were the ones who owned their own land. Turns out I dun know my neighbors quite as much as I thought I did. But that's changin'... and I'm actually startin' to make some above-decent friends. New friends. In so many ways, it feels just like our horizons here are expandin'."
"What in the blue manure is that?!?" Granny Smith wheezed.
"Rnnngh... grkkkkk!" Applejack shook, quivered, strained, and finally lifted a dangling noose of miniature boulders up onto the kitchen table. THWUMP! "Whew...!" She stepped back and pointed at the rocks. "That right there is a 'Granite Mountain Necklace.'"
"Who would wear such a thang?" Granny blinked. "A guardian from Tartarus?"
"Nonsense, Granny! Fancy Pants himself forwarded this to us! Says here..." Applejack picked a slip of paper up and read from it, eyes squinting. "...erm... 'A buffalo gift from the buffalo buffalo of the inner mountain buffalo, buffalo...'" She blinked. "Now that's an awful lotta typos... right?"
"Dun tell me that's from them horned folks who've been enjoyin' our apple products!"
"I'm afraid so! Turns out this here necklace is a token of their appreciation! Also—an invitation."
"An invitation?" Granny Smith blinked. "What kind of an invitation?"
Applejack squinted at the letter once again: "'We buffalo kindly buffalo ask that we share the buffalo filling fruit with our buffalo buffalo neighbors to the west, where they have made buffalo friends with the non-buffalo, buffalo."
"Buffalo... to the west?" Granny Smith blinked, chewing on her bottom lip. "Why... they must be referrin' to Appleloosa!"
"Sounds just like it."
"But... dun those buffalo already have a healthy heapin' supply of apples from Braeburn and the rest of his folk?"
"Yeah..." Applejack leaned forward with a smile. "But they ain't our Sweet Apple Acres supply!"
"So... in other words... we're fixin' to expand our distribution."
"Fancy Pants has already written me, tellin' he's willing to take the mountain buffalo up on his offer."
"Hmmmmm..." Granny Smith rubbed her wrinkly chin... then eventually smiled. "Well, shoot, I reckon them stones should fit just fine over the fireplace! Let's write 'em back and tell 'em it's a deal!"
"Darn tootin', Granny! Now that's the spirit—!"
The kitchen table collapsed under the weight of the rock necklace. THUD!
"Oh consarn it!"
"And... of course..."
Applejack smiled past the tombstones resting before her.
"...for the first time in as long as I can remember... I'm startin' to find myself some... well..."
She shifted nervously, as if feeling guilty to admit it.
"To find myself some... some..."
At long last, the orange freckle pony finally spat it out:
"Some t-time off..."