Tumbleweed: 10 Votes
Music filled the air as shadows took hold of the land, chased away by the orange glow of the campfire. Kestrel cracked open a beer on the back of the wagon, the bottle cap flying off into the darkness, and put the bottom to her lips, hindquarters slightly swaying from side to side as she walked back to the fire while Wanderer played a happy ditty about the rolling prairies of the Equestrian Heartlands. Kestrel found a place by Tumbleweed’s side and added her voice to the song—or as much as she could, anyway, given she was bad at remembering the lyrics. She mostly mumbled or hummed along while Wanderer serenaded the Gang with his wonderfully rich voice.
Of course, as soon as the song was over, Roughshod let out a hoot and raised a bottle of whiskey into the air. “Play us the Ring Dang Doo!” he shouted, and the rest of the Gang laughed, with the exception of Trixie, who simply looked lost.
The magician looked toward Kestrel and cocked an eyebrow. “The what?” she asked, only to yelp in surprise as Roughshod grabbed her by the shoulders and spun her around to be his dance partner.
Kestrel chuckled and glanced at Tumbleweed. “This oughta be fun.”
“Oh, it certainly will be,” the stallion said, and he put his and Kestrel’s drinks aside with his magic. Then he offered her his hoof, and she shed her duster for the dance and put her hoof in his. The two Gang leaders picked a spot in front of the fire for their little routine, with Silvie and Snapshot pairing up on one side, and Trixie making a confused and concerned partner for Roughshod on the other. As Wanderer strummed up the first chords of the song, Tumbleweed winked at Kestrel, and Kestrel blew a kiss back to him.
When I was just a colt you see,
I met a filly from old Mareis.
She had a blonde mane and blue eyes too;
She let me ride on the ring-dang-do.
Kestrel and Tumbleweed circled each other, their bodies moving flirtatiously, having done the dance to the bawdy song many times before. Silver and Snapshot were more subdued, Snapshot being his usual stiff self, Silver still hampered by her injury, while Trixie looked hopelessly lost as Roughshod led her around. Then everypony save the magician joined in for the chorus, their voices echoing off the trees.
The ring-dang-do, now what is that?
It’s soft and round like a pussycat,
Got a hole in the middle and it’s split in two;
And that’s what you call the ring-dang-do!
Kestrel laughed and swayed her hips from side to side, tail swishing suggestively left and right. When Tumbleweed made to reach for her flank, she made a show of slapping his hoof away with a wing and cantering backwards a few steps, then slowly working her way back closer to Tumbleweed in time with the tune as Wanderer started the next verse.
She took me down into her cellar;
Said that I was a mighty fine fella;
Fed me wine and whiskey too;
Let me ride on the ring-dang-do.
The ring-dang-do, now what is that?
It’s soft and round like a pussycat,
Got a hole in the middle and it’s split in two;
And that’s what you call the ring-dang-do!
Laughter filled the camp at the end of the chorus, even coming from Miss Irons’ lips, who watched the whole thing from just over Wanderer’s shoulder. Trixie had a cherry red blush building on her cheeks, only growing brighter and brighter as she struggled to keep up with Roughshod in the suggestive dance. Kestrel spared a snicker at her expense, then stood up on her hind legs to lock forehooves with Tumbleweed and dance about on two legs.
Her father come in and angrily said;
Now you have lost your maiden head;
Pack your bags and your coat tags too;
Make your living off a ring-dang-do.
The ring-dang-do, now what is that?
It’s soft and round like a pussycat,
Got a hole in the middle and it’s split in two;
And that’s what you call the ring-dang-do!
On the other side, Silver wore a bright smile on her muzzle, only slightly tampered by the bags under her eyes from her time spent sleeping off her injury. Though Snapshot still moved with his usual uncomfortable stiffness, he did have a tiny curve to the corners of his lips, and Kestrel knew that was about the most expression the stallion would let slip to show he was enjoying himself too. It made her all the more happy that she’d gotten some time to relax and celebrate with the Gang, if even Snapshot could take a break from being the stoic sentry and enjoy himself for a night.
She went off to be a whore;
Hung this sign upon her door;
A gold bit each and three for two;
To take a crack at my ring-dang-do.
The ring-dang-do, now what is that?
It’s soft and round like a pussycat,
Got a hole in the middle and it’s split in two;
And that’s what you call the ring-dang-do!
Kestrel felt Tumbleweed’s hoof playfully swat at her flank, her guard having been dropped with the end of the song and seeing Snapshot enjoy himself, so she pouted at Tumbleweed and buffeted his face with her wings, to the roaring laughter of Roughshod. “My ring-dang-do ain’t for sale,” she told Tumbleweed with an easy grin. “Go find a filly from Mareis to take ya for a ride.”
“You mean you ain’t from Prance?” Tumbleweed chuckled back. “I coulda sworn you was, you looked like a Prench poppy out in the field.”
“Pshhh. I ain’t even know what a Prench poppy looks like,” Kestrel said, shaking her head. “I ain’t sophisticated enough for that.”
As the Gang snickered and laughed, Kestrel trotted over to Trixie and put a wing around the magician’s back. “So?” she asked her, cocking her head to the side and smiling into Trixie’s flustered face. “You figure out what the ring-dang-do is yet?”
“Y-Yes… Trixie has an idea,” the magician said, and her magic popped up the collar of her magician’s cloak to try and cover her burning cheeks. “Trixie wishes she could forget it…”
“Ah, a few shots of whiskey’ll take care of that for ya. Speakin’ of which,” Kestrel snatched her beer off the crate and finished it in a few gulps, then chuckled the bottle off to the side. “How about ‘Rye Whiskey’, Wanderer? You know that song’s my favorite.”
“Sure,” Wanderer said, his feathers quickly adjusting the tuning pegs on his guitar. As Kestrel snatched a bottle of whiskey out of the wagon and began to sip it straight, the elderly red pegasus set his feathers over the strings and raised his voice. “This one goes out to our alcoholic gunslinger; may the bottle take her before the Law ever finds her.”
Everypony shared a laugh at Kestrel’s expense, the gunslinger herself included, and Wanderer moved into a more somber tune, well-known by all the mainstays in the Gang:
O Lily, O Lily, it’s for your sake alone;
That I leave my old parents, my house and my home;
My love for you, it has caused me to roam;
I’m a rabble rouser, and the South is my home.
Rather than dance and lurch about the campfire, the Gang all stood in a half-circle around the fire, swaying from side to side in time with the song, and lending their voices to Wanderer’s soulful rendition. The bawdy laughter of before had been replaced with a quiet, calm happiness, and Kestrel couldn’t keep the contented smile off of her muzzle for very long.
Jack o’ diamonds, Jack o’ diamonds;
I know you of old;
You rob my poor pockets;
Of silver and gold;
O Whiskey, you Villain;
You’ve been my downfall;
You’ve kicked me, you’ve cuffed me;
And cause me to brawl.
My hoof’s on the long road, my bags on my back;
I’m leavin’ sweet Lily, and I ain’t comin’ back.
Her parents don’t like me, they say I’m too poor;
They say I’m unworthy to enter her door.
Kestrel’s mind wandered at those words to a mare she used to love a long time ago. It had been the same way with sweet Faith and her father. She wondered where the oil tycoon’s daughter was now, and if she’d ever see her again. It didn’t seem likely—they’d gone their separate ways so long ago—and that was probably for the best. The last thing she needed was to reopen old wounds while trying to survive on the run from the Law… even though she’d already had her chance encounter and missed opportunity with Highball tear open the drawer of ‘what ifs’ she’d thought she’d locked shut long ago.
They say I drink whiskey, my money’s my own;
And them that don’t like me can leave me alone.
I’ll eat when I’m hungry, I’ll drink when I’m dry;
And when I get thirsty, I’ll lay down and cry.
It’s oatcakes when I’m hungry, and whiskey when I’m dry;
Green backs when I’m hard up;
And Hell when I die.
Rye whiskey, rye whiskey;
Rye whiskey I cry;
If I don’t get rye whiskey,
I surely will die.
Kestrel let out a little whoop and put her bottle to her lips, feeling the burn of alcohol scald her throat all the way down. But it put fire in her belly and a little sway to her shoulders, and she hummed in happiness as she looked around the camp. All her friends were here; all her family. And it may be a tough life on the road and on the run, but she wouldn’t give up what she had now for anything in the world.
O filly, O filly, I’ve told you before;
Do make me a pallet, I’ll lie on the floor.
I’ve rambled and trambled this wide world around;
Raisin’ hell with the Gang, that’s where I am bound.
It’s with these gunslingers, dear Lily, I’ll roam;
I’m a rabble rouser and the South is my home.
If the ocean were whiskey, and I were a duck;
I’d dive to the bottom and get one sweet sup;
But the ocean ain’t whiskey, and I ain’t no duck;
So I’ll play Jack o’ diamonds and then we’ll get drunk.
O filly, O filly, I’ve told you before;
Do make me a pallet, I’ll lie on the floor.
Everypony clapped their hooves and cheered for Wanderer as the last chord hovered over the camp, and Tumbleweed stood up and moved to the center of the gathering. “To Kestrel,” he said, raising his drink in his magic. “Who’s done so much for us these past few weeks, who’s helped us get to where we are now. Without her, I would be lost, and we all would be dead.”
Kestrel met his toast with one of her own, whiskey bottle raised in her wing. “To Tumbleweed,” she said, winking back at the stallion, “for keepin’ us all together and keepin’ us on the path to freedom. So long as we stick with the Boss, we ain’t ever gonna fall astray.”
“Tartarus, how about to all of us!” Roughshod shouted, hopping onto his hooves. “We make the laws in our lives, we do what we gotta do to survive. Ponies try to stop us, try to tear us down all the time. Screw ‘em! There’s nopony else like the Gang in all of Equestria, and frankly, they all wish they could be like us!”
That raised a loud chorus of cheers, and Kestrel threw her head back with the bottle to her lips. When everybody had taken a drink to their celebration, Tumbleweed turned around and launched his empty beer bottle as far into the lake as he could with his magic. It splashed down on the still surface several seconds later, and he turned back to the rest of his family. “How about we get some cards goin’ or somethin’? We still got plenty of night to burn!”
“You can enjoy your cards,” Miss Iron said with a small shake of her head. “I haven’t had the time for some good gossip with the mares in seemingly forever. Now that everypony’s all socially lubricated, I think the chatter’s gonna be interesting.”
“True enough,” Tumbleweed chuckled at that, and looked at Kestrel. “Well, Kessie? You in for a few hooves, or do you got some mare’s talk to work outta your system?”
Kestrel is feeling Buzzed and takes -1 to all abilities until she has taken time to rest.
1. Play cards with the stallions. Been a little while since I wiped the floor with the usual suspects; I’m feelin’ lucky, and I think it’s time I reminded ‘em who the real queen of the cards is.
2. Share gossip with the mares. I bet Miss Irons and Silvie have got interestin’ things to say, and I bet we can get somethin’ good outta Trixie, too. Been a while since we shared half-true rumors as gals.
3. Retire early. Y’know, I think I mighta had plenty to drink already…