"Hoppy… there's something I'd like to ask you."
"Yeah, Sundance? Just ask."
"The barony needs a… well, I suppose we'll call it a 'Minister of Agriculture'. As we grow, and start exporting, we'll need somepony that can manage that. I'm starting to think that some greenhouses will be good for the barony, and you're planning to buy some anyway. We need an airship, which you're planning to buy. So… what if you had the barony's buying power?"
"Are you kidding me, Sundance?"
"No," he said after a moment of apprehensive cautiousness. "There'd be paperwork, of course. You'd have to submit forms for spending and such. But you seem to know this area, these ponies, and you have connections. You understand logistics. While you and Curly spoke, I realised that you and I are working towards the same goals, so I thought it might be wise to work towards them together. You need resources to make stuff happen. The barony needs a pony with a plan. So how about it? How about we work together?"
"That's a lot of responsibility."
"It is. So is Wort."
"I need to think for a bit," she said.
"Take all the time you need," he replied. "This is a big decision. For both of us. I'm starting to assemble a crew of like-minded individuals to help me rule. I can't do all of this on my own. You… today… you've shown that you're capable. You know stuff."
"I'll give it some thought, Sundance."
"Thank you," he said, relieved. "Let's go have lunch. I'm starving. Plus, we'll need to leave soonish if we're to make it home before nightfall. Also… I really need a cup of tea…"
"Hoppy!"
The pony that shouted Hoppy's name looked like a scrawny string bean that had somehow managed to swallow a cannonball. She was thin, too thin, the sort of rail-thinness that caused Sundance to worry about malnutrition. Her wings were visibly stunted, and missing more than a few feathers. There was also the fact that she very much looked like a duck; mostly white all over with a few speckles here and there, and a vivid orange-yellow blotch that covered the entirety of her muzzle.
Yes, Sundance decided, she rather did appear rather duckish.
She charged forwards on thin, knobby-kneed stilted legs with all of the grace of an adolescent giraffe on ice. To say that she was at that awkward stage would be kind; her front legs were considerably longer than her hind legs, which somehow heightened the appearance of her rounded, bulging middle. All in all, the way she ran was downright alarming, and Sundance feared that she would pitch forwards onto her face at any second.
"Sulky Goldshoe! What were you thinking?"
The sheer ferocity of Hoppy's voice caused the filly to come to a skidding halt, and as Hoppy began to advance on her, she flapped her stunted wings and retreated. That was a full-name address, and Sundance understood the gravity of the situation. It was time to run—which Sulky did once she arrested her forward momentum.
"Oh no you don't, you moronic little cuss!" Her horn flashed with brilliant glittery light, Hoppy scowled, and then she grabbed Sulky by the tail, which caused the filly to bleat in a rather sheepish manner.
Sundance was expecting a quack, so the bleat was extra confusing.
"OW! Owie! Ow! Ow! Ow! I gotta sit on that!" Sulky bleated aloud. "It's tender! Oooweeowie!"
Now clean, Bucklebad Goldshoe chuckled and watched as his niece was hauled in. Being a good uncle, he even offered some encouragement: "Give her what for, Hoppin' Mad!"
"Uncle, don't encourage her! She's gonna pull my tail out by the root!"
"Get over here!" Hoppy shouted, and she gave Sulky's tail a good hard yank, which caused the filly to suddenly reverse direction. Hooves skidding across the ground, Hoppy hauled the bleating filly in, overpowered her, and then put her in a headlock or gave her a hug, it was hard to tell the difference.
All of Sulky's resistance melted away, and with a great heaving blubbering sob, she clung to Hoppy, who held her. Sundance, quite uncomfortable at this point, turned away and looked at Bucklebad Goldshoe instead. The oddly proportioned earth pony had just showered from the looks of things, and now wore a hat. He was brown—unpleasantly brown given what he was covered in not that long ago—and there was a toilet with blue flames that stood out in sharp contrast on his hip. As far as marks went, Sundance desperately wanted to know the story, but dared not ask.
"You stupid, stupid filly! Why, I oughta beat your ass with a brush!"
"Naw, naw, you don't wanna do that! It's tender back there, Aunt Hoppy!"
"But I oughta!"
"Well, maybe you oughta, but I'm beggin' ya, please don't!"
"Give me one good reason!"
"I ain't got one! Just don't! I'm sufferin' enough!"
When Sundance dared to look, he saw that Hoppy still had the filly in a headlock-hug.
"Where is Rubberband?" Hoppy asked in a growl.
"Oh, my brother won't be joining us, 'cause he's a unicorn and that means he's gotta work. There's a huge backlog of orders. Seeing as how I'm an earth pony, I get time off 'cause I can't do all that unicorn hoodoo stuff that Rubber does."
"Your brother's name is Rubberband?" asked Sundance.
"Mama searched the scrapheap for inspiration," Bucklebad replied. "She found a bad buckle, an old rubber band that was all dried out and cracked, and a jar of rosemary spice with no lid."
"So let me get this straight," Sundance said as he put his brain to work. "Is your sister… Sulky's mother, named Rosemary?"
Bucklebad Goldshoe started to reply, "Naw—"
But Sulky cut him off with, "My mama's name is Stinky Jar."
"Aaahyup, that's true. That's my sister's name. And she thinks her farts don't stink. When she was little and in school, all the foals called her Fart Bottle."
"Oh." Sundance flexed his diplomatic muscles and somehow remained neutral. Absolutely no reaction could be seen nor found anywhere on his body. He was a statue. A perfect statue, an equine made of lifeless stone. "I see."
"Ma said our names would give us character, and make us strong enough to face whatever fate life gave to us. She was a wise mare, my mama."
"I'm certain that she was, Mister Goldshoe."
"That's kind of you to say, Sundance. But let's be honest… my mama was a hick. And so am I." He flashed his derelict picket fence smile and then added, "Who's ready for lunch? You done killing my niece yet, Hop-Hop?"
"NO!"
"Well, hurry up, mare. I gots the hangries. Kickin' shit all morning has done hollowed me out. Sulky, protect ya neck!"
"Hoppy… so you want me to come with you?" For a brief moment, a mere second, Sulky appeared to be a filly far more than she actually was. She was young, vulnerable, and scared. So very scared, and it was plain to see in her wide, staring eyes. "Leave here? Leave my family?"
There was a sigh that was more of a whinny that caused Sundance's ears to pivot towards the source of the sound, which was Hoppy. She leaned against the rough wooden table, clearly troubled, and she did not look the filly in the eye. The tension was almost too much for Sundance to bear, but he endured in silence, having not said a word since their arrival at the cafe.
And what a cafe it was. The old brick building had once been a factory. Now, it was a place of beauty and greenery. Water flowed from fountains. The horrendous stench was somehow kept outside. The ceiling and some of the walls were painted blue, and had white fluffy clouds, while pastoral scenes of tender green covered the lower walls. Floating orbs of magical light—very much like the type that Paradox could conjure—drifted about overhead, and cast a warm, soothing glow upon the patrons.
Jersey City was a wasteland when seen from up above, but there were oases of comfort to be found. There were indoor gardens here, the cafe grew some of its own food and it was on display. Birds flitted about in the rafters, and Sundance could not help but worry about issues of sanitation. Equine ingenuity was everywhere to be seen, and this cafe, once a factory, served as proof that the equine spirit would endure. The city, no matter how bleak, had life.
"Sulky, I still want to know… what were you thinking?"
"I ain't good at thinking," Sulky said right away. "Not thinking ahead, anyhow. I tend to live in the moment. When I think too far ahead, I don't see nothing for myself. Nothing at all. Just… dead ends. Which, I guess, is kinda how all this happened. We had a career day at school. And I still ain't got my mark. I got that thing wrong with my eyes that makes letters dance. And let's face it, I'm not the shiniest peanut in the turd. I'm not smart, I ain't pretty, and when I thought about what sort of future was ahead, which was no future at all, I panicked."
"Sulky—"
"I ain't strong enough to hustle cows. That stupid feather flu made sure that I'd never be able to fly. I ain't pretty enough to be a high-rent hooker—"
"Sulky!"
"—which means that some pimp would likely sell my scrawny little ass to the lowest bidder."
"Sulky Goldshoe, you're too young to be thinking this way!" Hoppy snapped.
"I know," the filly replied with a well-practiced roll of her eyes. "It don't pay to think at all. I keep telling ponies that."
With a huff of disgust, Hoppy turned away and furiously chewed her lip.
Shrugging, Sulky whispered, "It seemed like a good idea at the time."
"Hoppy, we're not thinkers, we're doers—"
"Shut up, Goldshoe."
"—and Sulky, she went out, and well, she do. Uh, she did. I mean to say, she acted."
"Shut up, Bucklebad."
"Well, you're takin' it hard—"
"How else do I take it, exactly? You remember how it was when I had Wort. Now I understand why Granny stayed angry at me. I was an idiot, and so is Sulky."
"Hoppin' Mad, we Goldshoes aren't the brightest of ponies."
"No." Hoppy deflated, her ears fell back, and the whole of her face sagged. "But you're good sorts. You were good friends to Granny when she had none. Made her feel welcome. Helped her out. You helped me out."
"Ma and Pa, they didn't tolerate no ignorant prejudice. I still remember when my brother called me a numbskull… he did it angry. And Pa came after him with a loading strap and tanned his hide. I caught me a few licks too, 'cause I tried to shield my brother. We was raised to know better. When we helped ol' Growler, it was doin,' not sayin'." In the middle of everything he said, Bucklebad's accent thickened like gravy left to cool and congeal on the counter.
Sulky, now teary, and with her lower lip quivering, said to Hoppy, "I ain't got no skills. Can't do maths. When I get around strangers and I get flusterated, I stutter something awful. On career day, I looked ahead, and I didn't like what I saw. Got scared. And then I did something dumb, I guess."
"I blame my sister—"
"Goldshoe, don't start." Holding out her hoof, Hoppy gestured for Bucklebad to stop.
"It's perfectly acceptable to blame my sister," he said in full defiance of Hoppy's raised hoof. "She got all caught up in that conspiracy stuff in the back of magazines, all about secret changeling mind control in vaccines and such. 'Cause of her and her idiocy, Sulky suffered. Ponies that get vaccinated survive feather flu. And they keep their wings. It's just a time of itchy molting. I wish… I wish that I'd gone behind my sister's back and got Sulky stuck when she was small. But I wasn't bright enough to think about it at the time. Now, Sulky has got to pay for my sister's mistakes."
"Bucklebad, Sulky needs to pay for her own mistakes. She did this to herself."
"Stinky Jar's dumb choices drove her to this."
"Sulky… would you like to come home with us?" asked Sundance, who finally felt compelled to speak.
"I don't see how I has much of a choice," she replied.
Before he could respond, Sundance swallowed, and he was careful to collect his thoughts. "There's always a choice. You could stay here. If you do, you'll probably have to face the consequences of your actions. But if you come with me, you'll still have to face the consequences of your actions… just different consequences. But if you choose which consequences to face, at least you'll be taking responsibility for your own life, and that's what is important."
Across the table, Hoppy stared at Sundance with wide, unblinking eyes, as if he'd grown a second head.
"Well… I… uh… well… um"—Sulky's lips smacked together and she squirmed in her seat—"I ain't good at making choices for myself. I should say that right up front. Especially when I get pressured. Like now. I mean, today."
"I do think that social worker fella will make that choice for you if you don't," Bucklebad said to his niece.
"I don't mind that Uncle Rubberband is a butt-bandit," the filly said. "The only thing that bothers me is that he's noisy."
"Yeah, my brother is a rambunctious go-getter, ain't he. Sounds like a passel of pigs in the bedroom when he and—"
"Goldshoe… there was a time to stop, and you just blew right past it."
"Sorry, Hoppy."
"Can I take my dog? He won't be no trouble, I promise. I got him trained. He listens to me."
"Dog?" Sundance gave Sulky all of his attention. "Did you train him?"
"I did," she replied. "He does tricks when I tell him too."
"So you have a way with animals?" he asked.
"Well, I don't know about that."
"She has a way with foals," Hoppy said. "Somehow, she made Wort behave. Sulky is his favourite foalsitter."
"Well then." Sundance pressed both of his front hooves together and rested them upon the edge of the table. "This is what we work with. What we start with. We take her home, and we get her feeling useful. Once we do that, and she has some confidence, things are bound to get better."
"I like animals, but that's not much of a career, unless you wrangle cows."
"Maybe it's not a career here," Sundance agreed. "Though I think it could be. And foalsitting—"
"Is a good way to make a few bits, but you don't make enough to pay the bills, mister."
"Back home, we don't have bills." For a short time, Sundance savoured the confused expression on Sulky's face. "We don't mess with bits. The food is free and so is the roof over your head. You're free to do as you please, so long as you contribute."
"What's the catch?" Eyes now narrowed, Sulky cast a suspicious stare in Sundance's direction.
"No catch," he was quick to say. "That's the point. There's no catch. You leave the city behind, and you learn to live a different way."
"If something seems too good to be true, it usually is," Sulky said to Sundance.
A waitress hustled by with a tray balanced upon her back.
"Why are you called Goldshoe?" asked Sundance, who changed the subject quite without warning. Why he did it was unknown to him, but it felt right. It was just one of those spur of the moment things that seemed like a good idea at the time.
Disarmed, so to speak, Sulky scrambled for an answer. She stammered, but only for a second, and then replied, "It's the yellow patches we get. Not all of us get them. A long time ago, we had yellow hooves. Well, some of us. We had golden shoes. But that was a long time ago. I got me my yellow beak." For a moment, she turned duck-lipped with an exaggerated pouty expression that would destroy the career of any supermodel that did it. "My uncle here"— no longer duck-lipped, she pointed at Bucklebad—"his dock is yellow. Given his brown hide, it looks like a kernel of corn stuck in a sun-dried turd. My mother has golden unmentionables, a smear of gold that she shows the world when she's got her tail held high."
Across the table from Sulky, Bucklebad chortled while Hoppy rolled her eyes.
"I done heard that Rubberband's got a golden band on his—"
"Sulky Goldshoe, I will drown you in your soup!"
"Aunt Hoppy, I ain't ordered soup!"
"I'll order it for you, you silly filly! Just to drown you in it!"
"I ain't seen it, I just heard stories!"
"Don't keep this up unless you have a snorkel, miss!"
"It's been awhile since anypony cared 'bout what I do," Sulky said, mostly to herself.
His face turned serious and Bucklebad ceased to chortle. "Sulky, I care about what you do. What are you goin' on about?"
"You don't scold me, Uncle. You don't notice half the stuff I get up to. I mean, I know you care." She was quick to add in a voice that cracked from raw emotion, "I ain't saying that you don't care, I'm just saying that you let me get away with everything. And though I know I'm gonna regret this later, it's nice to have somepony come down on me and keep me good. It's kind of a relief, I guess you could say. I've done a terrible job of holding myself all accountable like."
"I'm sorry, Sulky." His eyes fell and Bucklebad Goldshoe's expression turned both sad and disturbed. "Never was no good at that stuff. I don't hold myself accountable either. Are you gonna go with Hoppy?"
"Yeah, I am," Sulky replied. "She'll do what you can't, Uncle. I'm sorry."
"Don't be sorry, Sulky, be happy that you're getting what you need." Reaching up with one broad foreleg, Bucklebad rubbed his eyes for a short time, sniffled, and when he pulled his foreleg away, there was a smile like a quivery thin-skinned pudding on his face. "When I was a foal, I snuck off and ate a bunch of sweets. Got myself sick. But I was alone, and I didn't have no grown-ups to tell me what to do, and so I ate those sweets until I made myself sick. And then I didn't even want to look at food. When Ma twisted my ear and made me real food, it was a relief and I felt better. But I never told her that. Mercy, no. She would have gloated, 'cause that's what she did. I would've never heard the end of it. A week of squirty bubble guts hollowed me out."
"Goldshoe, I never knew you were a sentimental type—"
"Shut up, Hoppy. I'm remembering my Ma. Don't ruin that."
"Sorry, Bucklebad. Let's just have a nice lunch. It might be the last time that you and Sulky have a meal together for quite some time. Make the most of it."
"Hoppy… please, I'm beggin'... take good care of my niece. I ain't the best uncle, but it'd ease my mind to know that this time, I did right…"