“And I was like, ‘That’s amazing!’ Because I couldn’t imagine what I would do if somepony just yanked on my tail and it popped off. But then that's what the lizard did! And ran off and left its tail and guess what? The tail was still moving all by itself! So, I picked it up and tried to give it back, but the lizard just kept going an-”
“That's cool, kid. Hey, why don’t you go show it to Cranky?”
Rusted Peddler didn’t try to hide his smirk as he recited the magic words. Over the last few days, the members of the caravan had come to rely heavily on these golden words to alleviate the “Pinkie Problem.”
Of course, the filly wasn’t made aware of the issue, she was a little kid after all. She was young, excitable, and prone to being a little too friendly. She talked a lot and never got exhausted, even as they trudged along for hours.
So, instead of scolding her and breaking her little heart, they passed the responsibility on to somepony else. Nopony in the caravan knew why Pinkie was so thoroughly attached to the elderly donkey.
In their eyes, he was old, dull, and meanspirited, yet the filly clearly favored him. Whenever she unleashed a tirade of words onto the other travelers, they would simply mention Cranky. Without fail, she always did the same thing.
“Oh, my goodness. You’re right!” she shouted, looking around for the donkey. “Cranky! Cranky take a look at this!”
A cloud of dust erupted as the pink filly darted towards Cranky’s direction. His groan of dismay was audible to all, but none of them felt sympathetic. At the end of the day, the only thing they could feel for the donkey was joy. Joy that they were not him.
Rusted hummed a happy tune as they pushed onward, passing massive orchards and farms on their way. Not only was he at peace again, but he could see the faint outline of a town in the distance.
The atmosphere around Dodge Junction swarmed with energy and movement as ponies hustled and bustled about the collection of townhouses and storefronts. Gone were the conservative shawls and neckties of the Plains' territory west of this tiny town. Instead, the ponies of Dodge adjourned themselves with vests, handkerchiefs, and cowpony hats.
A sense of newness radiated along the dirt roads, infecting everypony that entered the city limits. Places like this were few and far between since their proximity to the treacherous and uncharted Arimasti Territory made them a liability.
But that’s what added to its charm, the novelty, and tenacity that was integral to its founding. The ponies that committed to living there believed in their tiny town wholeheartedly. They staked their lives and time on it.
Upon entering the town, the caravan dissolved as members wordlessly parted, drawn in whatever direction their heart was leading them. To some, Dodge Junction was simply a pit stop, while to others it may become home.
As for Pinkie, she knew she wasn’t supposed to stay, but she couldn’t help but revel in the atmosphere. Rockville was never this lively or full since Plain ponies preferred to keep to themselves. As she looked, she was drawn to a pony bellowing at the center of a large and mesmerized crowd.
“Look Cranky! Let’s go check it out,” Pinkie shouted, already pulling Cranky along with a hoof.
Cranky stumbled unsteadily forward in her grip. This might have been a good time to stand his ground, but he reasoned that the filly would be gone soon. He had tried all other options, but they always failed.
The kid had a way of finding him, even if it meant appearing in impossible spaces. He determined that he could tolerate her for a few more hours, then take peace in knowing he’d never see her again.
They joined the crowd to watch the display. Despite being in the very back, they could still get a good view of the commotion.
“Howdy there folks, you're just in time for the greatest show in this corner of Equestria!” shouted the pony with a voice clearer than the afternoon sky. ”Gather around and plop on those haunches because Buffalo Bull’s Wild West Show is here to entertain!”
The crowd stomped and cheered in eager anticipation, pulling in closer as the stallion jumped atop a makeshift stage with curtains. He was a young and slim stallion with a tan coat, long flowy light brown mane, and a luscious handlebar mustache. He wore a hat and had a pair of metallic bull horns on his flank.
The stallion removed his hat and held it to his chest, introducing himself, “Now you can go on ahead and call me Buffalo Bull, Showpony, Pioneer, and Express runner extraordinaire. And my friend here… well I’ll let her introduce herself. Calamity Mane, c’mon up hun.”
From behind the curtain emerged a young mare with a pale-yellow coat and a wavy two-toned red mane worn up in an elaborate updo. She overlooked the crowd with a pair of shining green eyes and an alluring smile.
“Thank ya kindly Bull, it's a pleasure to make your acquaintances. As you heard, my name is Calamity Mane, and I’m one of the best lassoers in all the land!” she declared brandishing her lasso.
The crowd erupted in another applause as she launched into a series of tricks with her lasso. She seemed to exercise an unnatural level of control over the rope, commanding it to do things the average pony couldn’t.
Buffalo Bull stood to the side of the stage and started to stomp, beckoning the audience to join in and clap her along. There was an overwhelming sense of joy overtaking the crowd as Calamity hoped and jumped in harmony with her rope.
Even Cranky was impressed by the spectacle, moving his hoof marginally to clap in rhythm with everypony else. But just as the show was reaching its peak, a deafening shout overpowered the crowd.
“Stop. Stop!” shouted an older stallion with a severe expression. He hopped onto the stage. “I apologize everypony, but this must end. You all know the rules.”
The crowd's mood soured as they began to boo and jeer at the older stallion. Yet, he remained undaunted and serious. He wore a ribbon tie, vest, and a pair of small, rounded glasses that gave him a very distinguished look. Buffalo Bull approached him with a look of concern, not looking for a fight but an answer.
“What’s the problem sir?” he asked politely, contrasting the outright vitriol of the crowd.
The older stallion offered Buffalo a hoofshake and spoke proudly, “I’m the mayor of this fine town, Mayor Drudgery. And I’m afraid I can’t let y’all display such wild behavior in front of my townsfolk.”
A look of surprise came over Buffalo’s face as he accepted Drudgery’s hoofshake. He cast a wary gaze to Calamity, silently begging her to come help.
“Why Mr. Mayor, it's a pleasure to meet you, and we don’t mean to offend, but…” Calamity started, looking to Buffalo for comfort. “The folks around here were enjoying our show. I promise there ain’t nothing unsavory to be seen around here. I’m a Celestia-fearing mare.”
“I have no doubts that you are ma’am, and I apologize if I implied that,” Mayor Drudgery explained, offering Calamity a hoofshake as well. “But I can’t risk exposing my ponies to anything that might negatively influence them. Not everypony can maneuver a rope like you, and that could lead to injury.”
“Well, we’ve got lots of other tricks that we can perform. We’d be happy to compromise with you, sir,” Buffalo offered sincerely.
The young performers looked at Mayor Drudgery with pleading eyes. He studied the ground and tapped his hoof, thinking it over. Eventually, he sighed and spoke.
“You two have been real respectful, so I guess I can give y’all another go. Tell you what, stop by Town Hall tomorrow, and I’ll give y’all a copy of the bylaws to run your show by,” Drudgery explained.
The performers emitted a little cheer, grasping each other in relief. The mayor turned back to the crowd and was greeted by the thunderous sound of booing. Unnerved by the intensity, Pinkie looked up at Cranky and inched closer to him.
“Why did he end the show?” she asked, saddened that everypony was being so rude to each other.
Cranky scratched his head, wondering if this was a good time to depart before answering, “I’m not too sure, kid. Looks like the mayor’s got something against performers.”
“Oh, it ain’t just against performers. He hates just about anything fun.” snarled a disappointed stallion loud enough for all to hear.
“Yeah, he only ever wants us to work, work, work. Celestia forbid we enjoy ourselves,” added a mare as she pushed her way through the crowd.
The grumbling and negative comments continued as the crowd began to break apart. The mayor exited the stage, keeping his head up and maintaining a calm demeanor despite the scorn sent his way.
“He hates fun,” Pinkie whispered to Cranky, as she watched him go. “How could anypony hate fun?”
Cranky shrugged, turning to leave. “Beats me. Don’t worry yourself with it, let's head to the train station and get you on your way.”
Pinkie heard and understood Cranky’s words, but she couldn’t fully accept them. She worried as her little hooves scampered to follow after him. She looked over her shoulder and saw Mayor Drudgery carry himself with a familiar fortitude and a stony expression.
As the mayor walked alone, the distance between him and the crowd grew ever larger.
“But you don’t understand mister! I’m not supposed to be here, I have to go to Ponyville soon, or my ma and pa and sisters will worry,” Pinkie cried, pushing her face against the glass of the information kiosk.
“I understand that little lady, but there’s not much I can do. Mayor Drudgery has temporarily shut down the railroad project. No trains are going in or out till further notice,” explained the attendant. It was obvious the stallion working the kiosk was equally, if not more, frazzled by the news than Pinkie or Cranky.
“Well, do you have any idea how long ‘further notice’ is going to be?” Cranky questioned impatiently.
“No sir,” mumbled the worker, shuffling around a heap of papers at his desk. “I can’t even tell y’all why the cease order was issued.”
“Great, looks like we’re switching to Plan B” Cranky snarled sarcastically, before questioning the attendant, “Any more caravans coming through, especially any heading to Baltimare.”
The attendant selected a paper nervously and carefully read it before explaining, “Aside from the one that arrived today, it's projected that two more should be arriving sometime tomorrow.”
“Alright, looks like you’ll have to wait until tomorrow,” Cranky said with a shake of his head. “It’s been an…experience getting to know you. Good luck, kid.”
Cranky wasn’t sure if this was the best time to part ways, but he figured it was better sooner than later. He had been nice to her, much nicer than he had been to anypony for some years. He had assured that she knew what to do and where to go. He turned away from her quickly, determined to move away at a brisk pace until he came face to face with yet another stallion.
The stallion was lengthy with a periwinkle coat. He had a milky white mane with streaks of baby blue. He towered over Cranky, staring at him with amber irises cornered by crow’s feet. He wore the average attire of an inhabitant of the area, a cowpony hat with an ornately decorated vest covered in tassels.
To his right was a smaller dark brown stallion with a cowpony hat and boots. Behind them were two bulky stallions in similar costumes. They, a pegasus and unicorn, both had pristine white coats, blue manes, and uninterested expressions as their leader smiled wryly.
“Can’t make it to Ponyville? It is a shame. The mayor of this town has been on a power trip ever since his…dubious… election. Not only does he hurt his constituents, but he also inconveniences his visitors,” derided the periwinkle stallion.
“Right,” Cranky agreed, glancing back at Pinkie. “Let’s go Pinkie.”
Pinkie perked up at the mention of her name and hopped over to Cranky’s side. She gazed up at the quartet of stallions curiously, clearly not feeling the same unease that Cranky did. Her youth made her incapable of sensing suspicious characters. But, Cranky wasn’t young, and he knew better.
He knew their type: polished and refined. They didn’t even try to blend in. They had no rural accents, and their clothes were spotless. Their slender figures were well-exercised and maintained. While their healthy rounded faces were well fed and catered to.
They were thoroughbreds, ponies of noble blood.
The leader was the epitome of the stereotype. His shiny, stylized mane and his unshorn periwinkle fetlocks. He looked down on others, and not simply because he was tall. His upturned nose and judgemental eyes screamed: I’d rather spit on you than speak to you.
Cranky knew unicorns of noble heritage when he saw them, and the royal guards flanking them didn’t disprove this suspicion. As to why members of Canterlot bureaucracy were here was none of Cranky’s business, but he had a feeling that it was nothing good.
They wouldn’t be pretending to be something they weren’t if they had good intentions. Cranky was acting on pure instinct as he gestured for Pinkie to follow. They moved to leave, but the periwinkle stallion blocked their way and spoke to his friend to the right. Disgust pulled at the corners of the unicorn’s mouth, but he smiled through it.
“Hopefully, the mayor will see the error of his ways soon. Shutting down the railroad is sure to attract attention from ponies much more powerful than he. I would hate to see them hang him by that nice little tie he wears around his neck,” said the stallion with mock concern.
“Well, maybe the mayor wants to attract some attention. And if they did come, I’d hope they’d try to speak to me directly first, rather than resort to intimidation and violence,” said Mayor Drudgery with a frown.
He sauntered toward them cooly, scowling at the quartet as he did. He inserted himself between the quartet and Cranky. The donkey was happy to let him do so, making space for the mayor to handle the situation. But as usual, Pinkie felt the need to say something.
“Hi Mayor Drudgery, nice to meet you,” she chirped. “Is it true that you hate fun?”
If Drudgery was hurt by Pinkie’s words, he didn’t show it. His expression softened while he lowered himself to her level.
“No little one. I don’t hate fun,” he said gently before casting a glare at the quartet. “What I do hate is temptation and bad influences.”
The leader of the quartet laughed haughtily. “I think we all do mayor Drudgery. We just don’t enforce that thinking on everypony because the local saloon owner had the audacity to run against us.”
Drudgery maintained composure despite the thinly veiled insult. He turned to Pinkie and gave her a slip of paper. “Listen you two, I apologize that you can’t be on your way. Take this and give it to the innkeeper. I’ll cover y’all’s stay.”
He then returned his attention to the quartet. “Why don’t you come with me, mister Cr-”
“Idler,” interrupted the periwinkle stallion. “The stallion to my right is Clipper Ship, and these gentlestallions behind me are Tramway and Stagecoach.”
“Right,” Drudgery said with an eyeroll. “Why don’t y’all come with me to my office so we can discuss somewhere in private.”
The stallions departed, and Cranky wasn’t in a hurry to follow them. He stood by vigilantly, waiting for them to distance themselves. As he watched them go, Pinkie tugged at his hoof.
“Lucky, they get to see the mayor's office! They must be friends because he wasn’t mean at all. I hope everypony starts being nicer to him.”
Pinkie’s words were sincere, and Cranky had a feeling that Drudgery wasn’t bad either. However, it was apparent that Pinkie’s hopes for his future wouldn’t be coming true anytime soon.
A dark cloud was looming over the tiny town of Dodge Junction, and Cranky felt an overwhelming urge to get out before he got caught in the storm.