//------------------------------// // Chapter 30: One Way Ticket // Story: The Private Scrapbook // by Cadabra //------------------------------// Chapter 30: One Way Ticket Stinking Rich had pulled all the stops on this trip, booking the whole family in a posh private train car for their trip to Baltimare. He smiled like a hero as Filthy Rich bounced up and down on the plush train seats while snacking on licorice candy. “Daddy! Watch this!” the colt exclaimed as he stuck a licorice rope up his nose. “We’re gonna have fun in Baltimare, ain’t we?” Stinking Rich sat next to his son on the train seat, joking around as he too stuck a piece of licorice up his own nose. “We sure are!” he said as they laughed together, enjoying their father and son moment. Smithy stood back silently as her mother took a photo of her husband and son with candy hanging out of their noses. It was a genuinely tender moment, one that she rarely experienced with her son. Filthy Rich was his daddy’s boy, and Stinking Rich relished in all the attention he doted upon his only child. She wished that she could dote that much attention upon Kizzy, who she knew was chained up in a wooden crate in the luggage car like a piece of property. Filthy Rich’s sugar rush and eager bouncing soon wore everypony out. Smithy watched her husband recline on a train car, enjoying a nap with his hat over his eyes with Filthy Rich resting contently on top of his belly. She daydreamed about what it would be like to have that kind of relationship with her daughter, and even what it would be like to hold her daughter like that. She rarely held her son like that anymore. Filthy Rich was always running to his daddy first, coming to her more as a last resort. She guessed that this was a learned behavior since Stinking Rich was beginning to treat her similarly. Snoring beside them was Sew n’ Sow, who looked so peaceful as she slept. It really was a relaxing environment, but Smithy was having a hard time unwinding. While she knew the nap would be beneficial, she could not quiet her concerns about losing Kizzy. She knew a plan had to be concocted somehow, and in a very short amount of time. Eyeing the half empty bag of licorice, Smithy began to wonder if Kizzy might enjoy her son’s leftover sweets. The poor child rarely received treats, unlike Filthy Rich who ate sugary sweets on a regular basis. Gently prying the treat from her son’s sleepy hold, Smithy proceeded in taking the leftover licorice to the luggage car. The luggage car was cramped and poorly lit, and smelled vaguely of dust. She found Kizzy’s crate wedged up against a stack of suitcases and a pet carrier. “Ya alright in there, Kizzy?” she asked gently, feeling awkward talking to a crate in a cramped luggage car. She heard rustling in the crate before seeing an eye peeking through a knothole. “Misses?” came Kizzy’s enthusiastic voice. Smithy had to admit how odd it was hearing a cheerful voice coming out of the wooden crate, but she was glad to know that her daughter’s spirits were still up. “I brought ya somethin’,” she said, smiling as she slipped rope after rope of licorice through the knothole in the crate. She could hear Kizzy’s excitement as she dined on the sweets. “Thank you, misses!” the little zebra exclaimed with her mouth full of candy. “This is so nice of you, misses. And the dog next to me likes it too. He is a nice dog, misses. He is my new friend, are you not dog?” Smithy could see a collie in a pet carrier chewing on the candy that her daughter had fished through the crate slats. She smiled as she thought about how generous Kizzy was. Even in times when it would be appropriate to be selfish, Kizzy still found it in her heart to share. Smithy wished she could be chained up in the crate with her daughter as she listened to the excited laughter the child made at sharing candy with a dog. It reminded her of how much simplicity could make somepony happy, a simplicity which she hadn’t enjoyed in ages. “I’m gonna try to get ya outta this here mess,” she said, looking through the knothole to see her daughter's legs chained up. Kizzy smiled up at the eye in the knothole as she swallowed the last of the licorice. “Misses?” she asked, her voice full of innocence. “When are we going home?” Smithy had to step away from the crate upon being asked that question. She did not want her daughter to see her start crying. “I don’t know,” she said, her voice shaky. Kizzy’s chains rattled as she stepped up to the knothole. Peeking though it, she could see her mistress trying to compose herself. “Are you crying, misses?” she asked, concern in that sweet little voice of hers. Smithy acted fast as she dabbed her eyes with a handkerchief. “Just the dust gettin’ to me,” she lied, hoping to sound convincing. “Mean time, ya just take it easy. I’m gonna try everythin’ I can to get ya home real soon. Ya hear me?” Smithy rested her hoof on the crate as if she was reaching out for her child. She was surprised to feel Kizzy resting her hoof within the same general vicinity. “I miss Miss Lizza, misses,” Kizzy said in a sad tone. Promising to stop by later, Smithy turned to leave the luggage cart before running the risk of bursting into tears. She hated that she could not give Kizzy an honest answer, especially since she herself hadn’t come up with an answer to her conundrum. She breathed an emotional sigh as a train attendant helped her to the snack car. After the emotional situation that she had put herself though, she could use a calming cup of tea. She ordered a pot of sassafras tea to be brought to her train car. Everypony was still asleep in the private train car when Smithy got back. Filthy Rich had slid to his father’s side in his sleep, leaving Stinking Rich exposed. Watching them curled up together all warm and comfortable without a care in the world made Smithy’s heart ache with jealousy. Knowing that Kizzy was sitting exposed and cold in that crate in the luggage car with chains around her hooves while these two snoozed the afternoon away just felt wrong. She imagined herself in Stinking Rich’s place, her son and daughter curled up together with their heads resting on her belly. Why, if Stinking Rich wasn’t in the picture, she could see this kind of scenario play out. In fact, things would be so much different in her life if Stinking Rich wasn’t there, better in fact. So this begged the question: Why was she letting fear rule her life, and why did she just settle for this blackmail of a lifestyle? Why did she allow herself to give up on her life when her husband killed Bladire? Why was Stinking Rich still allowed to suck air like a good man should while an actual good man lay breathless in the ground? Most importantly, what could she do about it? Smithy mulled over these questions as she sat across from her sleeping husband. ‘It could be easy to just snuff out his life right now,’ she thought as she picked up a pillow. ‘So easy to do to him what he did to Bladire. Everypony would think he just went in his sleep.’ She’d thought this way before, but every time the temptation of murder had crept up its ugly head she would quell it down with guilt. Now it seemed she had a new motive: desperation of losing her daughter. Smithy’s smile dripped with vengeance as she got up with the pillow in her hooves, a thrill cascading over her as she thought about what it would be like to not be married anymore. She quietly approached Stinking Rich, fully intent upon doing him in when she noticed her son sleeping. ‘He’d flinch and wake the boy,’ she thought as Filthy Rich flicked his ear in his sleep, making her realize the holes in her plan. She slowly lowered the pillow from above her head as she looked at the rest of her sleeping family, a wave of that all too familiar guilt washing over her. She would have to let him live, even if now she didn't want to. Stinking Rich awoke at the sound of somepony knocking on the train car’s door. “What’s goin’ on?” he asked when he saw his wife standing in front of him with a pillow. Smithy put on a smile as she fluffed the pillow she was holding. “Just gettin’ somethin’ fer ya,” she lied as she set the pillow behind her husband’s head. The conversation was cut off when they heard the knock at the door again, followed by the concession pony saying, “Tea ma’am.” Smithy rushed up to the door to pay the concession pony and let him in with her pot of sassafras tea. Sew n’ Sow yawned heavily as she awoke. “Now ain’t this a nice surprise,” she said as the snack cart rolled up with the tea pot and serving cups. “Stinkin’ Rich, is this yer doin’? I sure could go fer a cup.” Smithy backed down as her husband took all the credit, watching her mother and son make gluttons of themselves with her tea. It was the least she could do after plotting murder.