Chapter Ten
"How does a pony keep going on like that with so much weighing down on his head?" Sugar Sap solemnly asked. Ballad let out a restive sigh as he turned his attention upon his grandfilly. "Good question, but that would be best answered by me finishin' our tale!" Ballad exclaimed as he flashed a smile.
The wizened earth pony let out a labored yawn as he slowly rose from his seat. "How 'bout we move to the livin' room. Wood ain't all that great to relax on." His two grandfoal's followed their grandfather's lead and retreated several paces into the small living room next to Ballad's miniature kitchen.
Ballad let out a relieved groan as he slowly laid himself down upon an aged reclining chair. "Ahhhh...Much better." The old stallion declared as he began to slowly shut his eyes. Dusty and Sugar Sap quickly sat down and shared the room's only sofa. "Oh great." Sugar Sap groaned.
"Go wake him up Sap!" Dusty hissed.
"No way! You remember what happened at the reunion a couple years back when your dad tried to wake him up from a nap." The two youngsters both shuttered as memories of a day cut short by a trip to the hospital circulated around their heads. Sugar Sap and Dusty both let out a collective sigh as the two stared at the now snoring figure of their grandfather.
"I'll go wake him up if you give me your monthly allowance." Dusty whispered.
"Fine! I want to finish this story anyway." The unicorn filly snapped. Dusty slowly made his way to the dozing sheriff, hearing the faint sound of Ballad's rhythmic breathing. "Here goes nothing..." Dusty immediately bucked the chair in front of him causing torrents of dust to ripple from the shaking chair.
The old stallion let out a braying gasp as he swung his hooves wildly in the air. "Stop right their--" Ballad let out a curt cough as he rapidly blinked trying to make sense of his situation. "Sweet Celestia, sorry kids, I guess I doze of--What are ya doin' down on the floor Dusty?"
"Uh...nothing, Grandpa." The youngster meekly replied.
"Well hurry back up 'n take a seat next to yer cousin so I can pick the story back up." Dusty simply nodded his head and quickly sat himself back down. Sugar Sap covered her face as she tried to hold herself back from snickering at her cousin. Ballad shot a confused look at his grandfilly before settling back upon his chair.
"Right, well back to our tale..."
-------------------
A lone figure found themselves standing at the entrance of a bustling town. Carriages driven by burly donkeys and mix batches of sentient races passed by him as he made his way through the town's main street. The tired figure pushed through the large crowds, slowly trotting past busy shops and the occasional street vendor until he found what he was seeking.
The lonesome character entered into a small wooden establishment the sound of its wooden doors squeaking on their hinges alerted the building's occupants to the new arrival. The pony ignored every pair of eyes that fixated upon him as he slowly trotted towards the unoccupied bar counter. A loud thunk of laden saddlebags meeting the bar's wooden floor caused the bartender to look up from his work.
"Well, look at you pal! You look more banged up than a cheap wagon wheel!" The teal unicorn exclaimed as he examined the ragged earth pony taking a seat in front of him. Thistle ignored the bar tender's words and tipped his hoof to his snout in a drinking motion. The bartender promptly poured his new client a small shot from an unmarked brown bottle. Thistle thanked the unicorn before gulping down his drink in one swift motion; he let loose a muted sigh before signaling for another drink.
"So partner, where exactly did you come chargin' from?" The unicorn enthusiastically asked as he levitated another glass to the bare stallion.
"Cross Roads."
The bartender's eyes lit up as he began to clean a dirtied glass mug. "That's a long ways from Dry Water. Tell me have you been hearin' 'bout all the crazy rumors that have been buzzin' from that place and the rest of New Burros?" The earth pony evaded the bartender's question; his eyes solely fixated upon the shot glass in front of him. The unicorn rolled his eyes at the less than sociable pony and instead greeted a yellow pegasus that took a seat next to the silent stallion.
"Heya Dixon! How's business been this mornin'?" The pegasus asked as he offered a hoofshake to the bartender.
"It's been goin' good as usual. So have you been hearing all the mad rumors that have been flyin' around these past few days?"
"Ho boy have I! Most of the workers back at the quarry have been talkin' nonstop 'bout Blanco Roca." Thistle's ears perked up to sound of those two words and quickly began to eavesdrop upon the two’s conversation.
"Blanco Roca is old news pal, you haven't heard 'bout the massacre that happened at Tall Pines?"
"Let me guess, those Ivory Spurs got into another bloodbath with those Outfitters again?"
"Not at all! Now listen up..." The bartender quickly launched himself into a frenzied retelling of the rumors surrounding Thistle's previous deeds.
"What?! By the sun, those damned thugs are gettin' bolder and bolder, ever since most of the Royal Guard moved up north...Thank Celestia there was a Marshal to save that unfortunate zebra's life."
Memories of the events at Tall Pines began to flood into the gunslinger's mind. Thistle briefly stared at his glass before emptying its contents in a single swig; its burn helping to dull the stallion's pained conscious.
"Mhmmm. All this talk has folks spooked and running for greener pastures up north. Some are even gettin' real desperate 'n trying to cross into Mareizona."
"Well I'll be...Don't those folks know them buffalo have planted themselves right between Fort Saddles and the crossin' into Mareizona? They'd best settle for Cross Roads or just head back East!" Thistle let out a faint curse under his breath as he continued to listen to every word of the gossiping pair’s conversation.
"I hear ya, but like I said folks are gettin' real desperate tryin' to get away from all the wild stuff going on down south."
"Celestia help those poor souls stuck down there."
"That ain't all I've got for ya Garland...Folks have been talkin' 'bout how Parliament is mighty agitated by all this and decided to send their meanest Marshal to sort everything out."
Horse feathers... The gunslinger let out a muted sigh as he ran a hoof across his glass's rim.
"Just one? I don't think them fancy politicians know what they're doin' thinkin' a single Marshal will solve everythin'."
"I think you might be wrong on that account, I imagine them politicians know exactly what they're doin'."
Thistle's mind began to dwell upon the bartender's strange answer before focusing back upon the pair's conversation.
"Huh?"
"Never mind that for now, Tall Pines ain't the only rumor floatin' around. You remember that story a week 'n a half ago, 'bout that earth pony in Agua Fria?"
"Hah! A single earth pony wearin' a silly poncho..." Thistle muttered another obscenity to himself and briefly contemplated throwing a hoof at the pony next to him. "...challenges six bandits to a duel and buckin' wins. Ain't hard to forget Dixon."
"Well folks have been murmurin’ 'bout seein' that same exact fellow gallopin' around Cross Roads and that he's the one responsible for the bloodshed in Blanco Roca. I've also heard a rumor 'bout how the mayor of Cross Roads crossed paths with that pony and now the gryphon has put out a bounty on his head. I was swarmin' in folks askin' me questions 'bout him two days ago!"
"So what did that pony do to deserve that gryphon's wrath?"
"From what I've heard so far, that pony messed him up real bad, almost killed him he did."
"'Highcrown probably had it comin', can't trust them beak heads I always say. Anyway, how much of a bounty are we talkin' about?"
"Take a look for yourself."
"Got the post itself? Let's see...He can't be serious 'bout this?! Seventy five thousand bits? Sweet Celestia..."
Thistle's face briefly twisted in a grimace before returning to a calmer demeanor.
"Just who the buck is this fellah? You got any more stories 'bout this gunfighter?"
"Lots in fact, I had a patron tell me how this earth pony managed to take down a buffalo with his bare hooves! Heck, I've even heard how the stallion stands up on his hind legs like some sorta fiddler to fire his revolver."
"Really? Those folks talkin' must've been drunk outta their minds to spout out that kinda nonsense."
"That ain't the wildest thing I've heard, two griffons came into my bar two days ago tellin' me that the Marshal who saved that zebra's life in Tall Pines, ain't really a Marshal at all and that this Thistle pony had some hoof in it all!"
"Now that is a load of donkey shit if ya ask me! So, what does this Thistle fellah look like, his bounty doesn't even have a picture attached to it!" The unicorn began to rub his muzzle as she struggled to answer his patron’s question. "He's supposed to have this olive-brown coat, dark auburn mane, a face like any other stallion...But it's his eyes that set him apart! They're this shade of amber that would make ya question why he's starin' at ya. His eyes could set a pony on fire if he looks hard enough.”
The pegasus let out a curt snort. "You take a drink from your own reserves? Well, that still ain't much to go on."
"Come to think of it he'd look a lot like the stallion next --" An empty bar stool greeted the confused bartender. "--To us...Where did that stallion go?" The unicorn pondered as he began to search the barroom floor for the seat's occupant. "Oh well." The bartender shrugged before levitating five silver bits left next to an empty shot glass into a small pouch tied onto his belt. "Anyway, back to them rumors..."
Thistle kept himself moving amongst the denizens of Dry Water, hearing the same gossip he heard in the bar flow freely amongst the townsfolk. The stallion continued to move through the town and paused in front of a small wooden store with a faded sign hanging above its door. The bare gunslinger entered the small building and was promptly greeted by a small ring enter his ears as a small bell above the store's wooden door rattled to and fro.
The earth pony slowly trotted past wooden racks and shelves with various hats and articles of clothing covering their wooden bodies. Hearing no sort of greeting from the shop’s owner; he began to meticulously pick from the collection of assorted garments and gently placing his selected goods onto his back. The gunslinger's full saddlebags jingled throughout the silent room as Thistle slowly made his way to the store's cashier desk.
Thistle let out a tired sigh as he saw the reason for the store's quiet ambience. A weathered old donkey was asleep at the cashier; his back slumped upon the wooden wall behind him.
"Excuse me." Thistle gruffly called.
The old donkey let out a startled bray as his respite was interrupted by the stallion's voice. "Ay dios! ¿Qué quieres poni?" The shopkeeper asked in a thick accent. "¿Cuánto cuesta?" The stallion answered as he placed his selection upon the wooden counter.
The old storekeeper was slightly taken aback by the stallion's response before flashing a toothless grin at Thistle. "El poni sabe cómo hable burro!" The vendor happily announced as he began to tally up the stallion's goods. "Esto será diez pocos."
Thistle slowly rummaged through his packs' pockets before placing a small bag onto the cashier’s wooden desk. "¿Habrá que necesiten alguna otra cosa? The donkey asked. The gunslinger slowly shook his head and thanked the wrinkled donkey.
The aged donkey motioned to a nearby wall mirror before resuming his nap. Thistle slung his purchased garments onto his withers and made his way to the store’s spacious corner. The earth pony let out a small sigh as the mirror's pristine glass showed his weathered reflection staring back at him.
With a shrug of his shoulders and a buck of his hind legs, the pony's purchased goods and saddle bags fell off onto the store's wooden flooring. The gunslinger let out a relieved groan before grabbing a dark orange shirt with his teeth. Thistle reared onto his hind legs and swiftly ran his head and forehooves through the shirt's holes. The gunslinger returned to all fours to repeat the same process with a pale gray duster strewn at his hooves.
The stallion let out a breath of air as he ran a hoof across the lightly threaded garments now adorning his body. Thistle checked his reflection again; his features showing signs of weariness, small wrinkled bags of skin beginning to form underneath his eyes. Set you on fire my ass...
Thistle let out a snort as he grabbed a small tan handkerchief with his teeth. The earth pony struggled for a few moments before successfully wrapping the piece of cloth around his neck covering the silk stitches still etched into his flesh. Thistle began to examine his new look; he let out a heavy exhale before dumping out his saddlebags' contents and the sound of belts clicking together began to echo across the store.
Thistle let out a quiet sigh as he looked at the silver revolver tucked into the brown holster strapped across his covered left foreleg. Thistle threw his lightened saddlebags back on and checked his reflection once more; the stallion frowned to himself as he wiggled his ears around, small drafts of wind whistled through the hole pierced into his left ear.
Thistle made his way to the store's entrance and paused in front of a small wooden hat rack. The gunslinger quickly looked over the varied selection and his eyes were swiftly drawn to a dark brown, straw weaved hat, with a dark black band running across the hat's low crown. Thistle quickly glanced at the still sleeping donkey before picking up his desired prize.
The earth pony quickly covered his head slightly, wincing as his ears flattened to the side of his head underneath the new pressure. He took one last glance at the still asleep donkey. Thistle hesitantly paused with his hoof gentle pressing upon the wooden door.
Ain't like your gonna kill the donkey for the hat...
Gonna go back on your word?
The gunslinger interrupted his thoughts with a shake of his head and let out a tired sigh before rummaging through his new coat's pockets. Faint ringing echoed across the small room as the small bell signaled the exit of its sole patron.
-------------------
The dry ground underneath Thistle's hooves cracked with every step; a mass of clouds beginning to form above the barren frontier. The gunslinger tightened the bandana around his neck as he trotted by a tattered sign indicating the small collection of wooden buildings in front of him was named Gallup. Thistle trotted by destitute figures and solicitors before pausing in front of burly earth pony hitched up to a simple wooden wagon.
"You need somethin' pal?"
Thistle casually pointed a hoof at the wagon. "You takin' folks to Fort Saddles?"
The carriage driver let out a snort of laughter causing his bindings to flop around with the chortling stallion. "Why the buck would you want me to take you there? Haven't you heard dem soldiers ain't lettin' no pony through, all because them buffalo decided to make their new home around the whole damn crossing!" The gunslinger let out an annoyed snort as he placed a bag at his hooves before kicking it across to the beefy pony.
"You serious? Whatever pal it’s yer money and as long as I get paid for it." The pony took his bits and threw it onto the wagon's wooden bedding. The gunslinger effortlessly tossed himself onto the carriage's wooden bedding.
"You set to go?"
"Yup."
The pony let out a strained grunt as began to pull the wagon and its cargo out of the small outpost. "Any reason why yer wantin' to head to Fort Saddles?" The wagon puller asked as he shifted his head towards his cargo. Thistle deflected the questioning pony by lowering the brim of his hat over his face. "Damn vagrants..." The wagon and two ponies continued trundling across the desert plain; the shadowed silhouettes of the clouds overhead beginning to blanket the desert landscape with shadowy blotches.
"Wake up pal." The carriage driver called as he shook himself, causing the carriage bound to him to jostle along with its contents.
The slouched pony quickly shot to attention as he felt himself begin to shake. "What the hay?" Thistle complained as he adjusted his hat back to normal.
"We're here." The pony curtly replied as he motioned with a hoof to the massive door and imposing walls in front of them. The gunslinger promptly jumped off the carriage and noticed silhouetted figures staring down at him from atop the orange stoned walls. The fort's gates began to audibly groan as they slowly opened for the new arrival. Thistle thanked the carriage driver before slowly trotting into the fort's extensive courtyard.
The stallion trotted by parading uniformed ponies and noticed a mixture of different races plainly dressed and casually lounging around the courtyard's walls. "You there!" Thistle quickly turned around to face a bespeckled pegasus dressed in the standard blue uniform of the Royal Guard trotting towards him. "Can I help you?" The gunslinger replied.
"You're the pony they just let in, right?" The stallion in question nodded his head. "I'm gonna have to process your sir, now if you'll follow me." Thistle let out an annoyed sigh as he followed the clerk into a small building tucked in between the fort's southeast corner.
"...Alright sir, if you'll just sign here we can wrap this up." The gunslinger hurriedly strapped a quill to his hoof and with a grand stroke left an ambiguous signature at the bottom of the paper. The soldier lifted the white piece of paper with a wing and closely examined the earth pony's writing. "Kinda hard to see what you wrote sir, what exactly does your signature say?"
"Steady Draft." The earth pony calmly answered.
"Alright, thanks. Now let's see here...You're from Maple Leaves, correct?" The pegasus asked as he quizzically looked over the duster clad earth pony. Thistle slowly nodded his head in response. "From back East? Well, I hope you're aware of all the rumors and stories that have been making there way through the Western territories."
"I am well aware of all the rumors, now are we almost finished here?" Thistle dryly stated.
"Almost, just need to check over a few more things." The soldier allayed as he began to check off everything Thistle hastily glanced over. "...Business: ---" The pegasus examined the stallion one last time.
"You left this part blank, sir."
"Look, I'm just tryin' to check up on my family, alright?" Thistle answered with a biting tone.
"That was all I needed sir." The clerk hastily replied. "So, family must be important to you if you marched your flank westward knowing how bad it is right now...Anyway, you're good to go Mister Draft."
The uniformed pony made his way to a nearby cabinet and placed the paper into an iron drawer before leading the annoyed pony to the small room's exit. "Pick any spot to hunker down and once things have been settled with the buffalo you can be on your way through." The clerk declared before pointing a wing at the holster strapped to Thistle's foreleg. "Also, my superiors and I would kindly ask you to please keep your firearm holstered at all times. "
"Of course." The stallion replied before trotting back into the fort's court yard. Thistle made his way to an empty spot along the fort's western wall and sat himself down upon the cold dirt. The skies above began to darken as the clouds overhead began to intermingle, effectively blocking the sun's rays from reaching the earth below. A strong breeze began to drift amongst the whole frontier, sending a slight shiver down the gunslinger's body.
The pegasi need to move their asses westward and start regulatin' the damn weather. Thistle mentally griped as he tightened his duster closer and raising the bandana around his neck, covering most of his snout and face. His eyes the only thing visible underneath the makeshift shroud. The stallion did his best to ignore the wind biting into his exposed flesh. Thistle’s mind began to wander as he observed soldiers and varied groups of different species move by him.
-------------------
*Click* *BANG* *Click* *BANG* *Click* *BANG*
"That was amazin' Pa! How fast you reckon you can unload your gun?!"
"Pretty damn quick boy, but you need to realize speed ain't worth jack if ya can't hit the fellow your shootin' at."
"You tagged all three bottles in like, two seconds! How exactly did you get so good?"
"Years of practice boy."
“.....”
"Now don't give me that long look. You're still young and you've been practicing that violin for three years now. You'll get your chance."
"How exactly do you know that?!"
"Heheh, because I started off learning from my own father and now you're gonna be doin' the same."
"...Yes! Yes! Buckin' finally!!!"
"Hahaha, I'll let that little slip of the tongue slide. Now remember you need to keep this between me 'n you. Your mother would not only tan my hide, but wear it around town if she knew 'bout our little deal."
"Of course!"
"'Attaboy now let's begin..."
-------------------
The gunslinger's reverie was broken by the audible beating of iron horseshoes touching dirt within his immediate vicinity. Thistle quickly turned his head to track the hoofbeat’s source and was noticed a cleanly dressed stallion in a humble black suit calmly marching towards him. Two ebony grips poked out from the faded pair of gray holsters belted to each of the new comer’s hind legs. The stranger’s facial features were covered by a black wide brimmed hat; strands of gray hair leaking out from underneath his covering were barely visible across the pony's light brown coat.
Thistle caught a glimpse of the oncoming stallion's sharp indigo eyes staring directly at him before he lowered his head. The earth pony uncovered his muzzle whilst avoiding any sort of eye contact with the stranger. "You need somethin'?" Thistle calmly declared from underneath his hat’s cover.
The suited stallion tipped his hat with a camel hued hoof in response. "You're the newest arrival to the fort, correct?" The pony gruffly asked. "What of it?" The gunslinger dryly stated. "Am I distburin' you or somethin?" The stallion coolly replied his eyes still focused upon the seated pony.
"It's been a rough few days of travel for me to get here, sorry If I ain't comin' off as cordial." The seated pony answered in an exaggerated tone.
"No hard feelings then, so you from 'round these parts?" The black suited stallion calmly questioned.
"No, I'm not. I'm from Maple Leaves." Thistle nonchalantly declared.
"From back East, huh? Thought you were a Frontierscolt tryin' to get the hay outta New Burros, guess not." The stranger asserted whilst eyes slowly took stock of the figure before him. "Well, you were quick to adopt the Frontier fashion and accent weren't ya!" The black suited stallion lightly jested before flashing a wizened grin.
"You're half right on that account. Was raised on the Frontier through my colthood. Moved back home couple years ago, now I'm back lookin' to check up on family." Thistle slowly disclosed.
"Well you've come back to the Frontier at a bad time. Mighty bad happenings have been occurring here, I hope you were aware of that when ya came westward." The stranger stated in a calm demeanor.
"Yes...I'm familiar with them, but I won't let something like a buncha bar talk keep from seeing my kin."
The investigating pony let out a small chuckle. "Nice to see a pony with your kinda drive...Well some of these tales ain't somethin' to be laughed at. Anyway, mind tellin' me your name? It's only proper manners after all." Thistle let out a biting snort in response. "You first." The gunslinger replied in a more refrained tone. The light brown stallion let loose hoarse laugh before answering Thistle's call. "Of course, fair is fair after all, the names Cliff Sheer. Now, your name?"
"Steady Draft." The duster clad pony proclaimed. "Well Mister Draft, do you always talk to others whilst hidin’ your face? It ain't proper if ya ask me." The scrutinizing pony affirmed. "Your pretty keen on manners aren't ya?" Thistle sharply replied before tipping his hat up to the inquiring stallion. Thistle's eyes were quick to match the stranger's intensive gaze with an indifferent look plastered across his face.
Cold amber met grizzled indigo as both stallions maintained their stare; both unblinking as they tried to read each other's faces. Thistle was the first to back down as he felt a moist drop of water fall upon his face. A simple drizzle began to fall upon the exposed figures standing underneath the darkening clouds that loomed above.
"Well now, this is something you rarely see." The strange pony mused as he shifted his gaze upwards at the storm clouds. Soon the slow falling droplets gave way to a steady torrent of rain, blanketing everything beneath the black clouds in a furious shower of water.
"You'd best make your way towards the nearest cover Mister Draft. It was nice meetin' a pony such as...yourself." The stallion coolly stated before trotting away from the cloaked earth pony. Thistle ignored the freezing drops of rain hammering down upon him, and instead kept his eyes upon the retreating stranger until the stallion disappeared into a small alcove in the fort's northern wall.
Who the buck...
Thistle ignored the burning questions running through his mind and promptly got onto his hooves. The water logged stallion swiftly made his way towards a mixed group of donkeys, ponies, goats and griffons clamoring to enter the fort's interior through a small open doorway. Thistle finally pushed his way into the dry corridor, shaking himself and his sodden garments of excess water. Uniformed ponies began to herd the soaking batch down the fort's winding foyer. Soon the expansive hallway was brimming with gossip as the refugees began to settle down. Seeing no way to seclude himself from the pack, Thistle sat himself down next to a chattering pair of soldiers.
The brewing storm continued to grow outside and soon the biting cold edged its way into the simple shelter through the hallway’s many small window slits. Thistle tightened his duster closer before lowering his hat’s brim over his face once more. Nothin' to do but sleep and wait it out... The stallion began to settle down until the subject matter of the jawing ponies next to him caused him to bolt back to reality.
"Hey sarge I've been meanin' to ask, who's that stallion in the black suit? Ever since he's arrived last morning, he's been talkin' to every civilian that's been trapped here. A lot of the older ones looked spooked by that fellow and even some of our own are on edge."
"You really don't know who that is? Here's a hint does the name Black Wings ring any bells?"
"Can't say I've heard of such a pony."
"I expected as much from a youngster like you. Look, you know all the crazy nonsense that's been floating around 'bout Tall Pines, right?"
"Of course, me 'n the other privates have been hearin' nothin' but that from everyone we've been corralling these past few days. But what does that have to do with that geezer?"
"You'd best watch your mouth kid, that geezer is one of the toughest the Marshals have to offer."
"He's a Marshal? Tall Pines just happened four days ago! No way in Tartarus them folks back east in Canterlot had another Marshal get here so damned quick, mail pegasi take up to at least a week to get from the Frontier’s edge to civilized land!"
"Well from what I've heard from the major, word traveled fast enough to General Dust Kicker, that he had a pair from the Princess's 23rd Regiment get word to Parliament. She also told me the Marshal was on some other assignment in Mareizona, so there's your answer private."
"Was Tall Pines really that bad?"
"Must be if they're usin' the Bolts like that."
"Buckin' hay. So who exactly is this stallion? From the way you said his name I oughta know 'bout him."
"Now listen up, imma give you the quick history 'bout Ol Black Wings. His full name 'n title is Marshal Cliff "Black Wings" Sheer and he's one of the ponies responsible for bringing law to the Frontier."
"Wait, wait, wait a damn minute. I thought we we're the ones responsible for that! How the hay can you give credit to a small group of ponies?"
"The top brass 'n politicians like to spoon feed you younger recruits the whole, "You brought law to this land." Just to boost morale 'n such, well we older folks know better. You do know how bad the Frontier was three decades ago, right?"
"Yeah...I know all about the stories of the Marshals and their history with the Frontier. I know how they kept all the gangs in check before the Royal Guard came in and actually put down proper law, but I still don't get why this Cliff Sheer should be known like the damned Princess."
"You wanna know why, private? Tell me have you ever heard 'bout the Blood Brothers, El Alacrán, or Claw Hocks?"
"No sir."
"Well, two decades ago they were the meanest and most wanted criminals in the Frontier, those bastards would make the Ivory Spurs or those Salvajes donkeys look like a buncha Fillydelphia call girls. 'N I put heavy emphasis on were 'cause Ol' Black Wings was the one who personally put each one of them six feet under."
"So he took down some real nasty outlaws, I still don't why he's responsible for bringing law to this land."
"I ain't finished, the Marshal dedicated his youth hunting down every lawbreaker, gangster, bandit, and criminal on the Frontier. The crazy stallion spent twenty five years of his life out here taming the western territories. Throw in that pony's share of work and the other hundred Marshals' and you get the clear cut reason why the Royal Guard had such a smooth ride with establishing the courts and sheriffs."
"You're shitting me right?"
"Go ask any other of the vets stationed here, they'll tell you the same story over 'n over again...I remember when I was still a fresh faced recruit headin' westward after the first expedition. I would hear stories from my sergeant of how his previous company rounded up swaths of outlaws looking to be put on trial by us instead of facin' Ol' Black Wings."
"I'm still confused 'bout all this...But anyway, why don't we just ring up all the Marshals 'n have them take care of all these damned buffalo and bandits again."
"'Cause we got those griffons to deal with remember? The brass wants 'um up north helpin' with keepin' the Borderlands from bein' razed by those winged varmints. Besides, the Marshal is only here for one thing, and it's to catch that fellow New Burros is goin' crazy over."
"That's a big waste of time if ya ask me! He should be helpin' us keep some semblance of law instead of chasin' after a single pony!"
"I agree with ya but orders are orders. Look on the bright side private, we ain't freezin' our flanks off and fighting trained griffons at the same time."
"I guess you're right...So sarge, mind tellin' me why he got the name Black Wings? 'Cause his coat doesn't have a single speck of black on him."
"Takin' 'n interest have ya? Got a lot more stories to spin about him, but for now let's head back to the barracks first. Some of these folks are startin' to smell like wet diamond dog..."
The two soldiers trotted out back into the rain oblivious to the seated figure that was listening to every word of their exchange. Thistle shook his head and let out tired sigh. Just what I needed...The gunslinger shut his eyes once more; his mind filling with bothered thoughts about the infamous Marshal known as Black Wings.
-------------------
Thistle woke to the mixed sound of faint dripping of left over moisture still locked within the fort's stone walls and bursts of muted shouts drifting into the empty hallway. The stallion quickly rose onto his hooves and swiftly trotted out onto the bustling courtyard.
The storm clouds from yesterday were nowhere to be found and in their place stood the familiar glow of the Frontier sun. Thistle quickly stepped aside as group of uniformed ponies rushed by him, kicking up glops of freshly made mud. The collection of ponies began shouting orders to one another as they hurried to get onto the fort's eastern battlements.
The gunslinger briskly trotted towards a huddled group of plain dressed figures nattering amongst themselves. Thistle looked around before tapping the shoulder of a grubby looking donkey.
"Huh?" The donkey inquired as he turned to face Thistle.
"You know what's goin' on?" The stallion asked whilst glancing at the hectic soldiers arming themselves with various firearms. "You don't know? One of the patrols saw a gigantic group of buffalo headin' this way." Thistle let out a blunt sigh in response. "So you know how many buffalo is headin' towards us?"
"One of them soldiers told us that a hundred fifty of 'um are chargin' straight for the fort and that they were only twenty miles away from here!" The donkey exclaimed; his tone doing little to hide the fear teeming throughout his body. "The Royal Guard said it won't be a problem, they outnumber 'um by fifty and we got these nice solid walls behind us...B-But I wouldn't mind bein' someplace else right now."
"Well thanks for the information." Thistle calmly thanked before searching for a secluded section of the busy courtyard. The earth pony strolled past worried onlookers and agitated soldiers before taking a seat along the fort's abandoned northern wall. The placid stallion keeping his eyes upon the whirlwind of activity playing out before him.
"You're quite calm given the current circumstances."
Thistle turned his head to face the same strange pony from yesterday. Faint jingling of the stallion's holsters accompanied the suited stallion's soft trot as he neared the seated gunslinger.
"From what I've heard so far a hundred fifty ain't somethin' to be worried' bout when you've got two hundred Royal Guardsponies and thick walls to keep ya safe. So I ain't frettin' much." The earth pony easily replied. "Mind if I take a seat next to ya?" The aged stallion quietly asked as he sat himself down next to Thistle.
"Be my guest."
Cliff Sheer let out a relieved breath as he leaned his back onto the still damp wall. Thistle began to feel at unease as the pony sent to hunt him down was directly seated to his left. He did his best to keep an eye on the notorious pony without drawing attention from the wrinkled stallion.
"Say..."
Thistle's body began to tense as he saw the stallion stand back up and unfurl a single light brown wing from a tailored slit on the back of suit. The gunslinger's eyes were fixated upon Cliff Sheer’s descending wing, and intently watched it as his feathered appendage reached for his coat’s breast pocket. "Would you like a cigar?"
Thistle let out a mental sigh of relief as he shook his head in regards to the pegasus's offer. Cliff Sheer unfurled his other wing as he stuck the small brown cigar into his mouth, before lighting the brown stick with a small match grasped in his right wing’s clutches. The Marshal tucked his wings back at his side and let out a tincture cloud of gray smoke. "Nothin' like a good cigar. So, Mister Draft, I've got a question 'bout your name, ever since you told me it...somethin' about it doesn't add up to me."
Thistle took a pause as his mind began to race in an attempt to figure out the Marshal's intent.
"By all means."
Cliff Sheer let out a soft laugh before sitting back down. "I don't mean any disrespect or anythin' but your name seems more suited for a pegasus." Thistle's whole body slowly relaxed as his fears were abated by the stallion's simple assumption. "How'd you know I wasn't a pegasus?" The pony in question retorted.
"Just simple observations, for one, I didn't see any bulge of your clothin' 'n plus you just told me." The aged stallion replied, before flashing a grin at the pony next to him. Thistle continued to feel wary of the suited stallion, but began to rapidly drum up a proper response to the Marshal's question.
"...Well, my mother was a pegasus and she had her hopes high on me bein' born with wings 'n I guess she didn't want to give up on her dream 'n pegged me with this name." Thistle nonchalantly replied.
The old pegasus let out a curt chuckle. "Shoot, your mother must've be one stubborn mare." Thistle let out a snort as he kept his eyes upon the laid back pegasus.
"You mind if I ask why you've decided to chat with me, Marshal?" Thistle questioned without turning his head to the face Cliff Sheer, who in return let out a soft sigh before taking a long drag upon his cigarette. A cloud of gray smoke briefly covered the weathered pony's face as he exhaled. "...I take it you've heard some of the stories 'bout little ol' me?" The Marshal replied as the pungent cloud slowly began to dissipate.
"Yep." Thistle bluntly stated.
"Tell me Steady Draft, what exactly have you heard so far?" The pegasus replied his tone still lax.
"Enough to know, Black Wings..." Thistle replied; his tone putting extra emphasis upon the Marshal's nickname. Cliff Sheer took one last inhale upon his cigar before spitting it onto the muddied dirt in front of him. "...Guess that is enough if folks are usin' that name." The Marshal somberly declared. The two stallions quickly grew silent; the cigar's glowing remains the only thing Thistle focused upon. Its crackling embers barely audible above the faint shouting of the fort's defenders.
Thistle flinched for a brief moment as he saw a blurred hoof come crashing down upon the cigar’s remnants. "You mind answerin' me a question Steady Draft?" Cliff Sheer quietly asked his voice barely above a faint whisper. The stallion in question turned his head to face the grizzled stallion next to him.
"Shoot."
"Tell me, if you know my history why aren't you jumpy like the rest of 'um?" The aged pegasus pensively questioned whilst keeping his gaze up front, ignoring the set of eyes staring directly at him. Thistle let out a curt grunt as he brought his head back. "I ain't easily spooked, simple as that." The straw hatted pony coolly answered.
The aged pegasus let out a hearty laugh. "You're somethin' else ain't ya?"
"Not to be rude or anythin'...Why are you so keen on me? I'm not the very sociable type to be frank." Cliff Sheer let out a tired sigh in response. "Well, seein' as you were the first pony I'd met in this fort who didn't stutter when talkin' to me. I'd figure I would try 'n strike up a conversation with you is all." The pegasus gingerly answered.
He can't be serious...Still, gotta keep playing along.
"Fair enough...So, tell me are those stories true 'bout how you spent a good chunk of your life out here?" Thistle carefully asked. A faint smile began to creep at the edge of the old Marshal's snout. "I woulda started off with somethin' less direct, but to answer your question most of everything you've heard is the honest truth."
"Most?" Thistle questioned as he shifted his eyes upon the suited pony next to him. Cliff Sheer slowly nodded his head. "I did spend twenty five years out on the Frontier...Hunting down every scoundrel and low life. But most folks always retell of how I gunned down the worst of the Frontier and never of the folks caught doin' the wrong thing at the wrong time." The pegasus somberly answered.
"What are you getting at?" Thistle promptly inquired. The Marshal responded with a ragged exhale. "A lot of folks tend to turn a blind eye to the Frontier's pass. I wouldn't expect you to know the full story, but I can tell ya it was a buck lot worse than it is today..." Cliff Sheer let out a snort before continuing. "When the Frontier didn't have any sort of law, most folks out here adhered to good 'Ol Frontier Justice, simply put, every single dispute was settled with a bullet."
Thistle kept himself quiet as he continued to listen intently to the wrinkled pegasus. "I took that damnable concept to heart when I first set hoof on the Frontier...gunnin' down armed bandits to starved transients tryin' to steal their first meal in days."
The suit clad pony let out a strained breath. "Back in my youth, everything seemed so much simpler then..." Cliff Sheers removed his faded hat with a wing and ran a wrinkled hoof through his stark gray mane. "Eventually I would wise up to everything I've done as I got older and would slowly come to regret all the blind judgement I delivered all those years ago. Guess the old conscious knows how to reign in a pony that needs it..."
Thistle gritted his teeth as the veteran’s words began to stir up his own pained memories. "Listen to me ramble, sorry if I burdened you with the babbling of an ancient pony." Cliff Sheer quietly joked. The earth pony next to him swiftly shook his head. "...No, I oughta be the one apologizing, didn't know my question would bring up somethin' personal."
The Marshal let loose an enthusiastic laugh. "Hah! I'd actually like to thank ya for lendin' your ear." Cliff Sheer replied before extending a hoof to the surprised earth pony next to him. Thistle briefly hesitated before returning pegasus's gesture, soon the two ponies began to ease into steady conversation. The gunslinger’s initial worries surrounding the Marshal began to slowly fade away.
"...So, where exactly in Mareizona are you headin' for?" Cliff Sheer inquired before procuring another slim cigar from his suit.
"Two-Suns." Thistle cleanly replied.
Cliff Sheer's eyes flared for a brief moment as he registered the gunslinger's answer. The earth pony's mind quickly picked up his verbal slip and scrambled for a proper response to the law pony's imminent question. "That's a mighty dangerous part of Mareizona, you do know that right?" Cliff Sheer addressed as he returned the cigar back to his breast pocket.
"I do, but like I said, I ain't gonna take a pause till I see my family." Thistle firmly replied. "I like the cut of your jib Draft, most folks lack the kind of spirit you got. Wish I could do somethin' 'bout all those damned outlaws running amok down there." The Marshal vehemently stated. Sensing an opportunity to find out Marshal's progress in tracking him down; Thistle began to hastily construct an appropriate question.
"So...I've heard the reason why you're here, any luck finding that pony?" The earth pony calmly asked. "Well, like everyone in New Burros, I've listened to all the rumors goin' 'round, folks sayin' this Thistle fellow is the pony I'm after..." The pegasus paused as he let loose a short yawn. Thistle maintained an indifferent demeanor to mask his desperate need for Cliff Sheer’s information.
"Sorry 'bout that...Anyway, loose rumors ain't somethin' I'd like to build my search off from, but it's all I've got, There is one thing though, I was able to find out that some folks out here have personally met with him. I've been able to talk to only a couple so far." Cliff Sheer stated.
Buck me...
"So what did they have to say 'bout him?" Thistle nonchalantly asked. "Strange thing is, the folks I've met so far had nothin' but kind words about him, a mare told me how he rid her town of bandits! Tartarus, I've even met with the diplomat he saved a couple days back." The pegasus slowly replied. "Their stories paint the strangest picture of an outlaw I've ever seen...But to answer your question, I haven't really made any real progress I'm afraid." Cliff Sheer answered as he got back onto his hooves.
"Anyway, it was a pleasure talkin' with you Steady Draft." The Marshal warmly declared as he offered his hoof once more to the still seated earth pony. "Likewise, Marshal." Thistle replied as he got up to shake the old pony's hoof. "Now you stay safe Draft, I'd hate to find out somepony such as yourself didn't get to see his family." The grizzled stallion mused before taking leave of the earth pony.
Thistle kept his eyes upon the retreating pegasus. The thunderous beat of distant hooves and frantic shouting emanating from the fort's battlements began to mix and blend with the troubled thoughts that were brewing within the gunslinger's head.