“Sis, this here math homework Miss Cheerilee gave us don’t make no sense. Can you give me a hoof?”
“In a minute, Applebloom. Ah gotta fix Granny’s walker first. Won’t take but a second.” Cursing under her breath, Applejack picked up a rusty wrench in her teeth, wrapped her forelegs through the rickety walker, and fought a losing battle against a stubborn bolt. “Just a little more, Ah almost got it…”
A violent crash followed by a sickening snap echoed from outside, sending the wrench twirling out of the farmer’s grip. “Ow! Ow! Dang it, mah teeth cain’t take much more o’ this.”
From an adjoining room came the sounds of a nap interrupted. “Huh? Wuzzat? Sprites comin’ fer the zap apples again? Applejack! Applejack, where’s mah walker? We got sprites attackin’!”
Trotting to the door with a hoof held to her aching jaw, Applejack called behind her, “It ain’t parasprites, Granny. It’s just Caramel bein’ Caramel.” Shaking her head, she flung open the creaking porch door. “Caramel! What the hay’s goin’ on out here? You manage to demolish the whole barn this time?”
“N… No,” stammered a tan stallion as he stood withers-deep in crushed apples and shattered wood, “it’s the cart. I loaded it up like you said, four barrels deep, and it just collapsed on me!”
The orange mare’s hoofstomp thundered off the porch timbers. “Consarn it, Caramel! Ah said, four bushels, not four barrels! Now look what you gone an’ done. Cart’s old as the hills, it cain’t take that kinda weight. Mah best cart ruined, four good barrels smashed, and a whole afternoon’s apple buckin’ gone to waste.” He began to protest but her raised hoof cut him off. “This ain’t like losin’ some grass seed at Winter Wrap Up, Caramel. This here’s a load o’ bits Ah cain’t get back. Now go home. Go on, get! A’fore Ah say somethin’ Ah’ll regret. Don’t come back tomorrow, neither.”
A red-bowed filly's head peeked out from the kitchen door. “Sis! What about mah homework? An’ Ah’m gettin’ hungry, too. You said we’d eat soon, an’ that was an hour ago.”
Applejack spun on her hooves and shouted, “Ah said Ah’d be right there, AB! If you’re hungry, try eatin’ a gol-dang apple! If’n you can find a whole one.”
The tiny yellow filly shrank back inside, pausing to grab a stack of books and paper before galloping up the stairs, the sound of a slamming door reverberating down the stairwell. A shaking white-haired mare tottered in the kitchen doorway. “Applejack! What kinda commotion you been stirrin’ up now? Sounds like some durn manty-korn got loose in here! And what’s that there smell?” The elderly green-coated pony sniffed the air and held a hoof to her wrinkled nose as a thin wisp of smoke wafted across the cramped room. “Ain’t been an apple burned in mah oven in goin’ on fifty years, an’ there ain’t gonna start bein’ one today! Don’t you worry none, Ah’ll get it…” She took a few steps on wobbling hooves before her eyes grew wide and her gnarled hoof lost its purchase on the doorframe.
“Granny Smith, no!” The blonde-maned pony shot across the room, leaping the table to catch her grandmother mid-fall. Pausing to catch her breath, she slowly escorted the lime-green matron to a moth-eaten rocking chair in a sparse den. “Ah told ya to stay put, Gran! Ah’ll get the walker fixed up, and Ah’ll take care o’ supper, an’ everything else. Now sit yer stubborn flank back in that rocker, and don’t let me catch you wanderin’ off like that again.”
Panting heavily, she followed the trail of smoke back to the oven where a tray of fritters lay hard and blackened. She reached for the ruined tray and instantly recoiled in pain. “Mother bucker! Dangit, AJ, try a potholder next time, ya worthless horse…”
“Applejack Apple!” The condemning cry came from the still-open door to the porch, now occupied by a mare whose icy gaze was matched only by her snowy-white fur. “There is absolutely no cause for language like that, and certainly not when your little sister and your dear grandmother are in the house.”
“Rarity, now ain’t the time. Ah got mah hooves full here.” The earth pony tossed the stinking tray into the sink with a great clatter, burned fritters sliding down its bent surface.
“Did you not learn your lesson from last Applebuck Season, dear?” Cantering over to the orange mare’s side, she removed her companion’s weatherworn hat and set it aside, gently stroking the unkempt mane it revealed. “You know I’m here for you, darling. All the girls are. You only need ask.”
“Rares, Applebuck Season is once a year, over an’ done with. But this here… this ain’t somethin’ the girls can help with. This here’s been every day since Mac left for Appleloosa. Every dang day, Rare!" Slumping against the sink, the weary farmer's head fell to her hooves. "Ah cain’t do it, sugar. It’s just too much. Too much AB, too much Granny, too much Sweet Apple Acres… Ah feel like the sorriest sack o’ rocks sayin’ that, but Ah cain’t help it. Ah miss Mac, too.” She nuzzled the perfumed violet mane beside her and stifled a sob. “Ah love ya, Rares, Ah do. Promise. But Mac was my rock, an’ it don’t feel like family here without the big galoot. The chair at the head o' that table weren't meant to be empty.”
Leading her tired partner to the table, Rarity took a seat and motioned for Applejack to do the same. She opened her saddlebag with a flare of magic and revealed a sheaf of documents. “AJ, I have some paperwork for you. First is a contact for Granny’s medical help. The girls and I pooled our bits and convinced Nurse Tenderheart from Ponyville General to attend to your dear Granny’s needs. She will stop by each day after her shift ends and check her health, assist with physical therapy, and help out as needed with baths and light meals. She is not a live-in helper but it should suffice.”
"Y'all all went together an' did this? Rares, the Apple family ain't a charity case, Ah can..." A piercing glare from across the table silenced her instantly. Applejack hung her head and held the papers in trembling hooves. “Ah don’t know what ta say, sugarcube. Ah…”
“Then say ‘thank you’ when you see the girls again. Even when they can’t come to help, they're still with you in spirit." The alabaster mare lay a flawless hoof on Applejack's own. "The next two documents are work agreements for field hands. I spoke with Blueberry - yes, I know he’s a former suitor of mine, but those days are long past, I assure you - and he recommended two experienced seasonal workers from his staff. He owns the vineyard across town and his operation runs like clockwork. Unlike poor Caramel, who takes directions as well as Pinkie takes sedatives, these are experienced farm hands who know the work quite well. It’s up to you to find the bits to pay them, but I assure you, they will be worth every bit paid in reduced frustration and increased productivity.”
She smiled and placed a tender kiss on Applejack’s tear-streaked muzzle. “The last item you hold is a round trip train ticket to Appleloosa. A room at the inn awaits you there. Go and see Macintosh, dear. He misses you as much as you miss him, and the trip will do you good. I’ve closed the Boutique for the next two days. Sweetie and I will stay here to take care of AB and Granny Smith while you’re away.”
“Rares,” she gulped, “Ah don't deserve a mare like you. What do Ah say to all this?”
“Just kiss me, AJ, and say ‘I love you and I’ll be back soon’. I’ll be here for you when you return, dearest. I always will.”