//------------------------------// // 6. The Wild Bunch // Story: For a Few Bits More // by RainbowDoubleDash //------------------------------// Since it had been late in the day by the time the seven of them had arrived in the village, there wasn’t much that could be done to begin preparing the village. Ditzy finished constructing her cloud-platform and spent the night up in it, though she told everypony that given that she’d spent all day traveling to the village there was little chance of her being able to remain awake the whole night. Fortunately that didn’t matter much; Mazorca assured her that the Cattle Rustlers only ever came during the daytime, and he doubted that King Longhorn or any of his band had much of a taste for wandering around in the dark, nor would they have any reason to suspect that anything was amiss, so it was unlikely that the great bull would send any scouts ahead of his band. Actual work, then, began early in the morning. Big Mac was up before even the Sun, though it was lightening the horizon as he rose from where the seven of them had been put up – as the village lacked a proper inn or hotel, space had simply been cleared on the saloon’s floor, and straw mats had been brought in. It wasn’t the most comfortable arrangement, but it was better than the hard ground they’d slept on the night before out in the Mild West, so it suited the seven of them fine. Zecora had slept outside, next to her brewing pot and makeshift alchemy lab as she had over the previous few nights since coming to the village; the first thing Big Mac did was check on the zebra, but he found her curled up and still asleep. Working with her did not sit right with him, but they really didn’t have much of a choice. With that out of the way, Big Mac went out to scan the skies – and found himself being joined by Applejack, still rubbing sleep from her eyes. “How in the hay is it that you can lug Bloomberg for near t’ two days straight across the Mild West an’ still be up ‘fore me?” she asked quietly. Big Mac only grinned and chuckled in response, which naturally earned him a light jab in the barrel from one of Applejack’s hind legs as she trotted over to where Bloomberg lay behind the saloon. Big Mac successfully continued to keep his mouth shut as she started talking to the tree, asking it if it had slept well and if it was thirsty. He instead focused his eyes skyward, looking for Ditzy’s cloud. He hadn’t heard much wind last night, but a cloud didn’t need much wind to move, and it could easily have been pushed miles from the village… “Ah think we may need to get Bloomberg into the ground,” Applejack said after a few minutes of doting on the apple tree, as she joined Big Mac again. “This village ain’t got the pumps needed to draw enough water up from the wells for him, an’ Ditzy can’t be roundin’ up enough clouds for him an’ keepin’ an eye out at the same time.” “Eeyup,” Big Mac conceded, nodding. “Tonight, though. Need t’ get the lay of the land first.” “Eeyup,” Applejack echoed, joining her brother in looking around the sky. At length, she pointed west. “Over there, Ah think…Ah see some clouds, anyway.” Big Mac squinted, then nodded as both noticed the cloud starting to move against the faint morning breeze – which would only be possible if a pegasus was pushing it. “How d’ya suppose Ditzy’s drawing skills are?” Applejack asked as she took off her hat, revealing that she had a rolled up piece of paper and charcoal inside. “She’s got a better view than any of us.” “Ah think a cloud’s a mighty wet place for charcoal an’ paper,” Big Mac pointed out. Applejack nodded, conceding the point. “Well, Ah’ll go t’ the village’s high ground then…” She nodded her head at the only bump of land tall enough to be called a hill for miles around, the top of which was surrounded by a wooden fence painted black, and much of which had stone markers across it. “Which…looks t’ be a cemetery. Great, it’s Nightmare Night come early…” Big Mac chuckled again as Applejack trotted off. “Don’t get bit,” he called after her. Applejack just snorted. Big Mac, meanwhile, trotted out a ways from the village – given that the whole place at its longest was less than four hundred feet, it didn’t take long – so as to meet Ditzy when her cloud finally pulled up near to the town. She also brought it down lower, where there was less wind, finally stopping it a hundred feet off the ground. The blond pegasus then let herself gently drift to the ground in lazy circles, waving at Big Mac on her way down; he reached up a hoof and caught her own when she was near enough, helping guide her to the ground rather than leave her landing up to her lackluster depth perception. “Thanks,” Ditzy said as her hooves touched dirt. She pawed at it a little, then offered a grin at Big Mac. “Now I know why Rainbow Dash puts so much effort into keeping a cloud home near Ponyville. I don’t think I’ve ever slept on a more comfortable bed.” Big Mac nodded. “Think a’ how much you’d save on washin’, too,” he pointed out as the two trotted back into town and towards the saloon. He’d meant it as a joke, but Ditzy actually glanced upward a little in thought. “You might be on to something there…then again I’m not sure I’d want to have to build a whole new bed every few days.” “Might get old,” Big Mac allowed. “Plus, only a pegasus could hop onto it…” Ditzy mumbled under her breath. After a moment, her face turned a little red and her wings fluttered as she realized that she’d just spoken out loud. “I – I mean…not that I really have anyone else on my bed but me, s-so that’s not really a concern…n-not that I’m opposed to it! But…I mean…” “You hungry?” Big Mac asked with a grin. “Starving,” Ditzy said immediately, obviously grateful for the out he’d provided her. --- “Right, so this is what we’ve got,” Applejack said, holding out the map she’d drawn up while the seven of them sat around one of the saloon’s tables. The map showed the small cluster of buildings that made up the town, split by two roads, a main one that ran east-west and a smaller one that went north-south. The town as a whole sat on slightly sloping land in the crook of a river’s turn; the river framed the north and east of the town, with a pair of simple wooden bridges stretching across its length north and east, beyond which lay several of the town’s farmsteads, though the majority were to the south and west of the river on the same side as the town. The cemetery in the southwest was the only natural high ground in the whole village. At the base of the hill were a pair of houses, then across the east-west road to the north was the community corn crib where the locals would store and dry out the maize they harvested, considered more economical than each farmer maintaining their own cribs. East across the north-south road was the largest cluster of houses, as well as the barber shop and blacksmith, as well as the smaller of the community’s two groundwater wells. South, across the east-west road again, was what amounted to the economic hub of the village – the land office, the general store, and the saloon that the seven currently sat in. And that was it – sixteen buildings total. The whole thing could have occupied just a single block of Ponyville. “Doesn’t look so bad,” Ditzy said as she munched on her breakfast – eggs, beans, and cheese in a corn tortilla, washed down with black coffee thick enough that she could have stood a spoon up in it. Ditzy pointed to the river. “We’ve got this for defense. Like a moat in a castle, right?” “Not really,” Fetter Keys explained. “Went out and looked at it. River’s maybe ten, maybe fifteen feet wide – that’s good – but stand in the middle an’ even a mare like yourself could see over the banks. An’ the water’s runnin’ low. Call it eighteen inches deep at best. Might slow down bandits…won’t stop ‘em.” “It’s still our best bet,” Applejack said. In addition to her breakfast tortilla, she had produced apples for all of them, and was munching on one now. “What we could really use is some rain, get the river deeper, the ground all muddy-like, make a stampede dangerous an’ liable to break a leg…ain’t much chance of arrangin’ that with just one pegasus, though.” “Sorry,” Ditzy apologized automatically, though Applejack waved her off – it wasn’t like they’d planned to be here. “What if they don’t come from the north or east?” “They will,” Braeburn said. “The locals said that the Cattle Rustlers took off east to…wherever they was goin’, so they’ll be comin’ back that way too, at least at first.” Braeburn put a hoof to his chin, thinking. “We should pull out both a’ the bridges, an’ once we get the militia trained up put ‘em on the west an’ south banks. That’ll keep a charge, force the Rustlers to head along the river an’ find some other point to cross it.” “If’n we’re real lucky, they’ll split up,” Applejack said, waving a hoof across the river, “but more likely that Longhorn’ll keep his band together. Still, least we can control their angle a’ attack an’ prepare for it. We’ll have to cook up some surprises for the south an’ east parts of the village.” Carrot Top grinned around her cup of coffee. “I already have some ideas,” she said. “And…Zecora, too. We spoke a little last night, and we’re going to be comparing notes this morning.” She frowned a little. “I…really don’t like the idea of giving her ideas, though, stuff she could use against us in the future…” Applejack grunted at that. “Ah don’t like it either…even less since Ah doubt Ah’ll be the one who has to deal with it. But we can’t be holdin’ back here.” “I will tell you what it is I don’t like,” Little Strongheart put in, and used a hoof to indicate the farms that lay beyond the river. “These. We will not be able to defend them from attacks, nor any inside of them. Their owners will have to move into the village until we have defeated Longhorn and his band.” Ditzy blinked a few times. Even she could see how sound a tactical move it was…but she also saw the problem. “The Caballeros won’t like that,” she said. “If this turns into some kind of siege, the Cattle Rustlers might destroy those homes out of spite, to try and make the Caballeros give in.” “No, my friend, they certainly will,” Little Strongheart confirmed. “Which is something we must tell them. Homes can be rebuilt, farm fields can be resewn, but lives…” “Eeyup,” Big Mac said in a low voice, nodding in agreement. “Ah’ll break the news to ‘em.” Ditzy ground her hooves into the floor beneath her at the thought of telling ponies they’d have to abandon their homes, probably even watch them be destroyed. “I’ll help,” she said. Applejack eyed her. “You don’t speak the language, an’ we need your eyes in the sky,” she noted. Ditzy bit her lip. “I know, but…the Cattle Rustlers won’t come today, will they? It’s still too soon. And you’re asking ponies to give up their homes. I want to help with that, to convince them that it’s for the best.” Fetter Keys put a hoof to his chin, then grinned. “Actually, Ah can think of a way to maybe soften the blow…” --- “¿Qué chingados? ¡No lo hare, pendejo!” Ditzy didn’t speak the language, but the stallion’s tone and expression was all the translation she needed. “Hey!” She exclaimed, stomping up to the larger earth pony and affixing him with her best glare. “That wasn’t very nice! You could at least hear us out!” The Caballero didn’t understand Ditzy either, but her own expression and tone were just as loquacious as his had been. He glanced away with folded ears and muttered a lo siento, before remembering his anger and looking back to Ditzy and Big Mac. He started speaking again, but in a lower voice and with occasional respectful glances at Ditzy. “What’s he saying?” Ditzy asked. “‘bout what you’d expect,” Big Mac said. “His family’s lived in that house for six generations, he was born in it, he ain't leavin', an’ so on.” He waited for the Caballero to finish, then spoke back in Caballerian himself, his words just as measured and steady as always. “Ah told him ‘bout where we expect the Rustlers to attack, an’ what they’ll do to the homes on the other side of the river - an’ the ponies inside a’ them.” Ditzy nodded, looking to the Caballero as he took in this information. He was looking around, at his house, at the river and the town beyond it, wrestling with the obvious truth verses his need to defend the place he had been born and, in all likelihood, the place he had expected to die - albeit decades from now. She went up to him, reaching out her hooves and grasping one of the Caballero's own. "Sir," she said, and Big Mac translated quietly as she spoke slowly, wanting her emotion to get across, "we were brought here to protect you...but we can't do that if you're out here. But you can help us, your home can help us protect you and protect the whole village if you'd only let us. We can't do this on our own. We can't do this without you and your help. But then when this is all over, we'll help you put everything back together." She lightly tapped a hind hoof on the ground. "Right where you left it." The Caballero seemed taken aback at first at the earnestness of Ditzy's voice, but at length, he nodded. "Sí. Bien. Lo haré." Ditzy didn't need Big Mac to translate that, or the expression the Caballero had. "Gracias," she said, the first word she had made sure she could say right in Caballerian. She let go of the Caballero and stepped back, ruffling her wings. "Here, we'll even help. Where do you want to get started?" The stallion paused at that question, looking over his home, a single-story, building with probably only three or four rooms in the whole thing, before nodding his head at its south side and walking over there, Ditzy and Big Mac following. When they reached the nearest wall, the Caballero turned around, lifted a hind hoof, and kicked it in. --- Thirty earth pony volunteers were, in some cases, feebly twirling rope around and trying to get it to do what they wanted. In many more cases, they'd managed to somehow tie themselves up. Some of them had managed to physically hit the scarecrows that Braeburn and Fetter Keys had set up, but not get a loop around them. "Luna wept," Fetter Keys mumbled. "You'd think that statistically speaking at least one a' them would know their way around a lasso..." Braeburn grimaced, wrapping up his own lasso from the demonstration he'd been trying to give. "Rodeos are more popular in Equestria." "Rodeo is a Caballerian word." "Ah know, Ah can't account for it." The two looked at each other with a grimace, then back to the Caballeros, who at least had the decency to look embarrassed as they untangled themselves. He switched to Caballerian for the ponies. "Alright, alright," Braeburn said, switching to Caballerian. "That was pretty typical for a first try. Ah don't expect any a' you to be winnin' competitions here, just get good enough." Fetter Keys stepped forward, standing up tall as he could. "Pound for pound, earth ponies are stronger than bovines," he said. "It's in our blood, it's our magic. Bull or cow twice yer size still ain't as strong or tough as you on average; you buck one and they'll feel it. But bovines have magic of their own. Once their hooves start movin', once they get to chargin', long as they're touchin' ground, they can't be stopped, don't matter how strong you are. Just a few days ago Ah watched the biggest stallion Ah ever seen nearly get run over by Little Strongheart, the little buf...bison cow we came here with." He caught the appreciative nod from Braeburn at his correction, and returned it. “Put a mountain in their way, a big stone wall, that’ll stop ‘em. We ain’t got those, so we gotta get creative. That’s what the lasso trainin’s for. Pull a leg out from under a bovine, they go down, you stop the charge.” Braeburn cantered up to a few of the Caballeros who were still tangled and helped get them loose. "Right, we'll go from the top," he said, taking out his own rope and tying a loop quickly enough, something fortunately the Caballerians were already adept at and didn’t need to be trained in. He did his best to take his lassoing slowly as he showed the Caballeros how to twirl a lariat overhead with his teeth without getting dizzy or losing sight of the target, and then throw it forward, hooking the scarecrow and yanking. It went down easily. The Caballeros gave slight applause, but Braeburn waved them off quickly. “No, that weren’t me showin’ off. You gotta do it yourself. Then you can cheer.” By the end of the hour, most of the Caballeros could at least hit their targets as long as they weren’t more than ten feet away, and nopony was getting themselves tangled anymore. Braeburn was pretty sure that he could get them up to at least Apple Family foal-level lassoing by the end of the day, which meant consistently hitting a target at twenty feet, as long as the target was stationary. Tomorrow they’d start on moving targets. He was in the middle of helping a mare who’d spun her head a little too eagerly, and had spun herself in place and fallen over, when he caught sight of something that begged investigation. “Uh…” he said to Fetter Keys, stepping away. “Gimme a minute.” “Huh?” the other stallion asked, looking where he was going and seeing the problem. “What in tarnation…?” They’d been in the field to the west of the community corn crib practicing, and must have been doing a good job of it because nopony had seen Little Strongheart somehow climb onto the roof of the crib…and stand right at its north edge, barely balanced twenty feet up on the roof and reaching out into what appeared to be thin air with another one of her bars of granola, like she was trying to give it to something just out of reach.. Braeburn stopped beneath the crib, staring up. Little Strongheart looked down and smiled, but she looked terrified. “This o-one is stubborn,” she said nervously. “He will not come out of h-his tree.” Braeburn stared at Little Strongheart, then at the empty air she was reaching into. “The spirit world does n-not always exactly match up to the real one!” she snapped, though Braeburn guessed it was mostly her nerves – she really did not look happy up there. “It might have shadows o-of what could be or might have been or once w-was. There…there are trees here, if I look h-hard enough I can see them. Not many, b-but they are here, and one of them is occupied.” “Ah’ll take your word for it,” Braeburn said. “But, uh…maybe you want a rope or somethin’?” He waved the rope he held. Little Strongheart leaned forward a little more. “Wh-why?” “In case you fall.” She had certainly been aware of the possibility, but Braeburn vocalizing it didn’t do her any favors. Little Strongheart teetered a moment as she kept reaching out, then let out a yelp as she realized she’d tilted too much of her weight forward. Her front hooves flailed as she tried to back up, but instead she only ended up slipping on the roof, stumbling, and falling. Fortunately, it took enough time that Braeburn could run beneath her, jump up as high as his earth pony muscles would take him, and catch her on his back before she could fall to the unyielding earth. It knocked the wind from him, but he managed to come down on four hooves rather than tumble. He took a moment to catch his breath, then looked back at Little Strongheart. “Everythin’ okay?” The bison had her eyes screwed shut and legs bunched up. After a moment, she opened one eye, noticed she hadn’t fallen and broken a limb or killed herself, and let out a sigh that was also partly a subdued, high-pitched whine, going limp on Braeburn’s back. “I do not like heights,” she explained, then glanced up, saw something, and threw up her hooves. “Ečéš! Now you leave your tree?!” Little Strongheart climbed off of Braeburn, muttering in Bison to herself as she watched something only she could see as it appeared to fly through the air. “What’s it look like?” Braeburn asked. “A pain in my flank,” Little Strongheart returned without hesitation, as she started trotting, still looking up and following the spirit’s invisible flight. Braeburn couldn’t stop himself from laughing, and she did too. “An eagle, for the most part,” she continued after a moment as Braeburn joined her trot. “I must ask around the village and its goings-on, try and better judge this spirit’s temperament. An eagle-spirit would be very helpful to ride with.” She blanched after a moment. “Frightening…but helpful.” “You said that before, riding with spirits,” Braeburn said. “What’s it mean?” Little Strongheart looked at him, but only to stick out her tongue playfully. “Let me have my surprises. I might not be able to do it at all.” She glanced back up, but let out a low curse as she stopped trotting. “He disappeared more fully into the spirit world, I cannot see him anymore. He will come out in his own time…or not. Spirits are like that.” “Sounds like heardin’ cats,” Braeburn observed. Their short trek had taken them to behind the saloon, where Bloomberg still lay on its side. Braeburn came up to the tree and tapped his hooves against the trunk. “Don’t worry, Bloomy, we’ll get ya in the ground tonight…Hay, listen t’ me. Now Applejack’s got me talkin’ to the tree.” Little Strongheart grinned as she joined him. “I talk to invisible spirits that only I can see. I am no one to judge.” “Your spirits are actually there. More or less.” “More or less.” Little Strongheart pressed a hoof against Bloomberg as well, considering. “I have never planted anything before. Will you need help tonight?” Braeburn shrugged. “The more the merrier” --- “If you are going to keep staring at the Apple out there, you may as well leave and get out of my hair,” Zecora said to Carrot Top. Carrot Top jumped a little at the accusation, turning to look at Zecora. The two were inside the saloon at one of the tables, near a window that faced out back and through which the mare had a good view of Braeburn and his…Braeburn-ness. But that was just a coincidence by the way the window was facing. “I wasn’t staring,” she said. Zecora has been looking through her tome of alchemy, but glanced up. “The summer heat is coming soon, but you are not a filly to sway and swoon. If you find yourself distracted by the stallion there, then go out and prove you are a mare. A timid pony will be passed by - only action will catch the Apple’s eye.” Carrot Top’s head tilted to the side. “Are you giving me dating advice?” “Not at all, Carrot Top, I just want your distractions to stop. Ignore the stallion or roll in the hay, whatever it takes to return your focus this way.” The mare felt her cheeks blushing furiously. “I’m just going to pretend you didn’t say that…” Carrot Top said as she felt a great pang of sympathy for Trixie. Whickering a little at the bemused chuckle of Zecora, she back to her Granma’s cookbook. The two of them had spent the morning mixing and brewing up the basics – tear gas, smoke bombs, tanglehoof bags, sleep gas. Carrot Top had been sure to prepare plenty of herb-soaked bandages for injuries, and Zecora had also brewed up more of her alchemist’s fire. Carrot Top couldn’t read Zecora’s book, since it was in Zebra, but she had been surprisingly helpful, even improving on some of Granma’s recipes - and Carrot Top had surprised herself when she’d shown Zecora how to more efficiently mix tanglehoof slime, a way that would give the same results with smaller portions of the ingredients. Unfortunately, Zecora had been traveling light, and Carrot Top hadn’t exactly brought an entire alchemist’s lab with her either. Without knowing how long they’d have to hold off the Cattle Rustlers, it was worryingly likely that they’d end up running out of alchemical surprises, at least the standard variety. The town didn’t have a dedicated apothecary, just a general store that was happy to let its wares be raided but didn’t have a great variety of wares to raid that would be useful for the two alchemists. “Perhaps we are not viewing this right,” Zecora ventured. “We are thinking of a prolonged fight. But perhaps a show of force right from the start will convince the bandit Longhorn to depart.” Carrot Top considered. “Something really big, maybe fool him into thinking that we’re more dangerous than we look...good idea.” Zecora nodded in approval. “It’d have to be big, though...” Zecora turned her tome around and pointed out some pages in it. Occasionally there were stylistic illustrations, and this one came with...it looked like a flat field suddenly having a volcano erupting out of it. Carrot Top’s eyes went wide at that, pretty sure she knew what Zecora was driving at. She flipped through Granma’s cookbook and found it, along with a note in the margin in red ink: NEVER AGAIN!!! “You can’t be serious...” she looked back to Zecora, who looked totally serious. Carrot Top considered. “Okay. Fine. Just promise we won’t actually use this on any being. Just scare them.” “Scare them? No, my friend of orange...locks, this will terrify them out of their socks.” Carrot Top stared. “I don’t think any of them wear socks.” “We do not know that for certain, it could be - “ “You almost tried to rhyme ‘orange’, floundered, and made the first rhyme you could think of.” Zecora glared a moment, then looked out the window in surprise. “Oh, look, the mighty stallion and Ditzy return. I am jealous of how she may watch both Big Mac and Braeburn...” Carrot Top only barely caught the end of that as she found herself already outside with her friend. “Ditzy! How’s watching the skies going...”