Chapter 34: Murderer on the Ponyville Express
Granny Smith knew she shouldn’t be surprised to see the look of horror on her grandchildren’s faces, but seeing the shock in their eyes hurt all the same. “Well, I told ya it had to be done or I'd have lost Kizzy," she explained in her defense, finding it hard to keep a straight face.
Big Macintosh broke the shocked silence he shared with his sisters. “Ah, how'd ya get away with it?" he asked, still too shocked to delve deeper in question.
Granny Smith turned to a few pages littered with obituaries that had been posted in the Equestria Times. “I'd be lyin' if I said I knew, but mah guess is that the Brotherhood of Steeds had somethin' to do with it,” she explained as she pointed out members of the Faction of the Stud who had died that evening. “I knew it weren’t gonna be easy tellin’ Sunflower she lost her husband. Heaven knows mama was tore up ‘bout losin’ her boy, and even more tore up that her grandbaby lost his daddy. But I had to do it or I would of lost mah daughter, even if it still didn’t make what I done any less terrible. I sure regretted what I’d done, but it was made a might bit worse goin’ back home on the same train as the pony who I hired to do it…”
Smithy and her remaining family were finally allowed clearance from the police ponies to go home after days of questioning. She was relieved to hear that nopony in the Faction of the Stud suspected her as an accessory to murdering her husband, nor did her son. She knew this was thanks to Crab Apple's brass tacts strategies that she had blatantly overlooked in her overly emotional state. While his attention to detail was a small relief, she was still concerned that the Brotherhood of Steeds would come to collect their dues at the worst possible time, reintroducing her as a suspect.
When the first opportunity presented itself, Smithy gathered up her mother, son, and slave daughter to get them all out of Baltimare. While she hated having to store Kizzy in the luggage compartment again, she knew keeping her out in public would only cause a controversy worthy of suspicion.
The train ride home in the reserved private car felt like the wake for a funeral. All the curtains were drawn, and everypony in the car was dressed in black. Sew n’ Sow and Filthy Rich were clinging to each other for most of the ride home, grieving their eyes out over the losses they had taken. Smithy had tried to participate in their grief, but her overwhelming guilt kept her at a distance. It was hard to cry over what had happened when she knew full well that she was the cause of it.
Needing to take a break from all the misery, Smithy went to the snack car to get something for her mother and son to drink. She felt it was the least she could do since their recent dehydration was her fault too.
The snack car was loud and bustling with life, a drastic comparison to the private train car Smithy had just come from. Ponies shouted out their orders that they wanted to take back to their train seats, or rushed through their meals in the little booths. All around her was the sound of motion. Smithy ignored the sound of two ponies fighting ovef a booth as she stood in the snack car line trying to decide on what comfort foods she could order that would stay down on an upset stomach when she felt someone tap her on the shoulder.
A cold knot formed in Smithy's stomach, realizing before turning around that the taper was Crab Apple. “Dat dress is more appropriate now, Mrs. Rich,” he snidely commented on the black attire she had worn the day they had met. “Glad I found you on da train. We've been waitin' just as patiently as you have for da cops ta back off, and now we gotta talk."
Smithy grit her teeth at the pony standing beside her, not even wanting to look at him. “Family’s hungry," she mumbled. “It can wait."
Crab Apple chuckled at the reply, placing his hoof upon Smithy’s shoulder as if they were old pals. "Seems as good a time as any," he said, his hoof shaken off Smithy's shoulder. “Now dat we gotta chance, we aught ta get started, unless you were thinkin' of duckin' out on our deal. You wouldn't wanna go back on a deal you made with me, would you, Mrs. Rich?”
Smithy tensed her jaw as Crab Apple spoke, knowing that leaving without fulfilling her obligation was exactly what she had tried to do. “Ya didn’t keep yer end of the bargain,” she said in a hushed tone as she stepped out of the concession line, her accomplice leading her to an empty booth away from the crowd. “Why’d ya kill mah brother? And mah boy, why did he have to see his daddy die? Ya practically used him as bait! Do ya know how messed up he is right now?”
Crab Apple slid a handkerchief across the booth table as a peace offering, which Smithy swatted away. “Calm down before you start a scene,” he said in his defense. “You sprung all dat on me last minute. You think I wanted it all ta go down like dat? You think I like watchin’ a little boy cry like dat? If you do, you got da wrong idea, lady.”
Smithy watched Crab Apple squeezing the handkerchief in his hoof out of frustration, wondering to herself if this was a sincere reaction to what had happened or if it was just an act. “Why didn’t ya just take mah boy out of the room while the fight was goin’ on?” she asked, trying to adjust her tone to one that was more conversational for fear of both their tempers flaring.
Crab Apple sighed heavily as he rubbed his temples. “Dis is gonna sound crazy, but lemme explain,” he said. “I had Salty Ron keep him in da room because I knew what was goin’ on in there. I originally wanted him brought in da kitchen, but with you hidin’ in there, I didn’t want your boy askin’ a lotta awkward questions. He coulda put two and two togetha and found out his mom was involved, and dat woulda really messed him up. You didn’t want dat, did you?”
Smithy was glad that a waiter had shown up with a glass of ice water for each of them. The cold sensation of drinking it helped distract her from how conflicted she was feeling. Clearly some thought was put into this planned disaster on Crab Apple’s end, even if the results weren’t exactly as she had hoped for. “Ya coulda let him loose in the hall,” she suggested as soon as she realized that her water glass was emptied in what felt like only a few sips.
Crab Apple had downed his glass just as quickly as Smithy did, choking a little bit on the last sip. “Whadda you nuts?” he said as he wiped excess water from his lips. “I didn’t know what was goin’ on outside, and you gotta understand dat hotel is Faction loyal. I didn’t want him runnin’ wild where he wasn’t bein’ watched. He coulda got himself hurt, or got more back up, or found out you weren’t in your room like we’d originally planned. Dat’s why I wanted you ta go back upstairs, but you got too stubborn with me.”
Smithy looked down regretfully at the water glass the waiter was refilling it, waiting for him to walk away before the conversation could continue. “Ya should of told me that,” she said, taking her drinking more slowly.
Crab Apple shook his head at the suggestion as the waiter walked away. “You weren’t thinkin’ strait,” he explained. “When a woman gets arguin’, sometimes you gotta do what she says if you don’t want a fight ta escalate. We were runnin’ too short on time for me ta get inta an argument, so I just letcha stay put.”
While insulted by the womanly stereotype, Smithy could see why he would say such a thing. “I ain’t that unreasonable,” she said, trying to hide her hurt feelings.
All Crab Apple could do was roll his eyes as he looked over the rim of his glass in mid sip. “Na, you’re a mom,” he replied after swallowing a mouthful of water. “Look, any good mom woulda gone just as crazy and been just as difficult. It’s what mom’s do. Your heads are all put togetha like dat. Doesn’t make my job any easier, but there you go.”
Smithy was surprised and even a little thrown off by Crab Apple’s behavior, and even a bit insulted by how nonchalantly he was judging her. She wasn’t sure if this was business talk or if he really meant what he was saying. All she knew for certain was that if this was an act, he sure played it off better than her late husband ever did.
Given as much water as the two ponies had consumed, the waiter decided to leave them a pitcher in hopes that they would actually order some food soon. As the waiter left them with menus, there was an uncomfortable silence between the two ponies as they contemplated what they planned to say next.
Having finished her third glass of water, Smithy began to absentmindedly slide the empty glass back and forth between her hooves. “There’s still the issue of mah brother,” she blurted out, still eyeing the glass she was sliding back and forth instead of looking Crab Apple in the eye.
Crab Apple rested his hoof on the sliding glass to make it stop and for her pay attention to him. “There’s still da issue a Bruisey,” he replied, setting Smithy's glass aside.
Smithy was having a hard time thinking about what to say next. She had witnessed Happy Trails committing murder upon Bruisey before watching her brother get crushed to death by an ice sculpture, so what could she possibly say in her defense? “Happy Trails was defendin’ himself,” she retorted, trying to keep an even tone as she finally made eye contact.
Crab Apple had no trouble returning the intense gaze. “You think Bruisey wasn’t doin’ da same thing?” he said in all seriousness. “Salty Ron watched it happen. Bruisey was tryin’ ta keep your brudda down like what we planned, and instead he got cut open. After dat, nopony could keep dat brudda a yours down, so my boys did what they had ta do ta keep alive.”
Smithy didn’t believe that for a second. “A few of yer men couldn’t hold down one pony?” she said with a sarcastic smirk.
Crab Apple’s jaw tensed as he listened to his companion’s ignorant remarks. “So it’s okay ta let my boys drop?” he asked. “I dunno if you remember lady, but you hired us. We’re supposed ta be da good guys in dis, not da Faction. How was I ta know your brudda would go all kill crazy, ‘specially after you gave him such a glowin’ recommendation. I lost three guys ta him before dat ice sculpture took him out.”
Smithy sucked a deep inhale of air in between her clinched teeth. "I didn't say y'all were the baddin's," she scowled. "I said y'all didn't do yer job right. Do ya know how hard it was to get this here train ride home? Not to mention gettin' away from the cops? I'm still scared stiff 'bout yer gang goin' and rattin' on me! Do ya know what havin' a parent stuck in Foalsom Prison can do to a kid, 'cause I sure do!"
Crab Apple reached over the table to grab Smithy by the shoulders. "Sssssssshuddup!" he said in a whispered command. "Nopony's gonna benefit from time in Foalsom, so get dat idea outta your head! We got too much business ta talk about anyway, so pipe down and just listen ta me for once in your stubborn life. Can you do dat? Just once?"
The argument was cut short by the sound of a child screaming. “MAMA!!!” bellowed Filthy Rich, whose outburst had caused everypony in the snack car to stop what they were doing and look. “THE BAD PONY'S ATTACKIN' MAMA! IT’S HIM! IT’S HIM!”
Smithy rushed to her child’s side, scooping him up to try to end the scene which he had just caused. “It’s okay, baby,” she said as he wailed in her ear. “Mama’s gonna getcha outta here. The bad pony ain’t gonna hurt ya. I promise.” Without looking back at Crab Apple, Smithy ran back to the private car with her screaming son.
Sew n’ Sow rushed up to Smithy as soon as she saw her coming through the door. “What in blue blazes is goin’ on?” she exclaimed as she picked up her crying grandson.
Before Smithy could get a chance to explain, Filthy Rich blurted out his answer. “The bad pony, gramma!” he cried. “He’s here! I saw him! He was hurtin' mama! He’s gonna get me!”
Sew n’ Sow hugged and kissed her grandson tenderly, but did not take her eye off of her daughter. “Is this true?” she said in an accusing tone.
Before she could answer, Smithy could feel the train jerking as it slowed down. “We can’t be in Ponyville already,” she said as she ran to the nearest window.
Pulling back the curtains, Smithy was able to confirm this. She watched as Dodge City’s train junction was rapidly coming into view. “Mama, ya gotta get yerself and mah boy of this train,” she said quickly. “That pony is on this train, and he’s comin’ to Ponyville. Y’all are gonna be safer here in Dodge City with one of Stinkin’ Rich’s brothers.”
Sew n’ Sow watched her daughter rush around the car to grab her and her grandson’s saddlebags. “What are ya talkin’ ‘bout?” she asked as Smithy threw her saddlebag onto her back.
Smithy looked around the room one last time as she slung her son’s saddlebag onto his back. “It’s that pony who killed Happy Trails and Stinkin’ Rich,” she said in a hurried voice. “I don’t know if y’all are gonna be safe at Sweet Apple Acres. I need y’all to find a safe place here fer a time ‘til I can make sure it’s safe to come home.”
As if on cue, Sew n’ Sow began to argue. “What 'bout y’all?” she asked. “And what 'bout the farm? And what 'bout Filthy Rich? He’s already late fer startin' up school. Ya can’t just take him outta school like…”
“Ya want him dead or somethin’!” Smithy screamed over her mother’s rambling, which only scared her son even more. “I know it’s not what ya want, but y’all need to be someplace where I know y’ll be safe. Now please, mama, don’t be stubborn with me. With mah husband bein’ dead I don’t know what’s gonna happen, and I need to make sure Sweet Apple Acres is still safe fer mah family to go home to.”
Sew n’ Sow stared her daughter down obstinately as she felt the train stop, all the while listening to Filthy Rich crying. “What ‘bout the luggage?” she asked in one last attempt to be difficult.
Smithy groaned in annoyance as she opened up the train door. “Ya won’t die without yer toothbrush!” she hollered in one last desperate attempt to get her mother to listen to reason. “Grossly Rich owns that general store anyway, so y’all are gonna be just fine. Just please, fer the last time, get off the train!”
Giving into her daughter’s demands, Sew n’ Sow followed behind Smithy with her grandson following closely at her side. “I still think this is a bad idea,” she bickered all the way to the exit. “The least ya could do is let us get our luggage. Mah denture cream’s in there, not to mention mah hair curlers, mah slippers, mah good sweater, mah…”
Smithy tuned out the sound of her mother listing the inventory of her luggage as they got to the exit. “This here’s yer stop,” she said, failing to put on a brave face for her family. “I’ll write to ya all the time, and let ya know when it’s okay to come home. Write to me when yer settled so I know yer safe and so I know where to mail yer letters, okay?”
While she was still wanting to be stubborn, Sew n’ Sow agreed to write to her daughter. “We’ll make due, I guess,” she said in that guilt inducing tone of hers as she hugged her daughter.
It was especially hard for Smithy to say goodbye to hear grieving son. “It’s gonna be okay, I promise,” she said as she hugged him close and kissed him on the cheek.
She could feel him nuzzling his wet cheek up against hers, making it even harder to let go. “Mama,” he said weakly. “What’s gonna happen?”
Smithy found it hard to look her son in the eye. “I dunno, baby,” she replied. “All I know is yer gonna be safe here with yer gramma and uncles 'til all this gets sorted out. Now be a good boy, ya hear?”
Before Filthy Rich could answer his mother, he let out a terrified scream. “Bad pony!” he yelled, pointing at Crab Apple as he jumped out of his mother’s arms to hide behind his grandmother.
Crab Apple tipped his hat cordially as he walked up to the exit, only to be stopped by Smithy slamming her hoof across the exit doorway to block him from leaving. “This ain’t yer stop,” she said with a look that could kill.
She noticed Crab Apple open his mouth to say something, only to close it again under the intensity of her stare. “Stay on the train,” Smithy said with gritted teeth, enunciating each word so that her demands were made perfectly clear.
The conductor noticed the argument and stepped in. “Are y’all comin’ or goin’?” he asked as cordially as he could.
Smithy turned that hard gaze down upon the poor unknowing conductor. “Stay outta this!” she barked, watching him back down a bit. “We’re goin’ back to our seats, so lay off!” The conductor tipped his hat before hollering the ‘all aboard!’ needed to get the train moving again.
Smithy turned her attention onto Crab Apple again, who had already backed off significantly. “The private car,” she instructed as she walked back up the stairs. “We still got a mess of things we need to talk ‘bout. And make sure all yer men are there. Nopony’s followin’ mah mama and son, got it?”
Crab Apple held his hooves up to show he was willing to surrender to her demands. “Alright already!” he said in his defense as he turned to retrieve his gang. "There's fifteen guys here on da train, so expect ta see 'em soon."
Smithy puffed her chest up as she stared Crab Apple down. "Fifteen," she instructed, eyeing Crab Apple like a disobedient colt. "Y'all better not be lyin' to me. If I find out ya let one of yer lackeys loose after mah family, it's gonna be yer back side hangin' over the side of the train all the way to Ponyville. Do I make mahself clear, or so I have to demonstrate?"
Crab Apple's nostrils flared at the threat. "Crystal clear, Mrs. Rich," he said, standing at his full height to show he meant not to be pushed around by a mentally unstable mare. "We'll be in da private car in fifteen minutes, so make sure we got somethin' better ta drink than free water." Crab Apple made a 'got my eye on you' gesture before walking away in a huff.
Smithy watched as the train's exit door was closed, looking out the window one last time to make sure nopony was following her mother or son. While she wanted to make sure all was safe, she also wanted to look upon her family one last time before the impromptu departure. “Bye baby,” she said, blowing a kiss out the window to her son as the train began to roll away. “Mama’s gonna fix this somehow, I promise.”