//------------------------------// // Chapter 35: The Fourth Sign // Story: The Private Scrapbook // by Cadabra //------------------------------// Chapter 35: The Fourth Sign For the first time since flipping through the scrapbook, Granny Smith did not have a visual to support what she was about to say next. “I’d never felt more outta place in mah own home,” she explained as she looked out the window at the apple orchards, watching as shooting stars streaked across the sky to signal the fourth sign of the zap apple harvest. Even watching the blossoms revealing the grey young zap apples didn’t seem to fill anypony with the joy that it had over the years. After hearing such a tale, how could it compare? Apple Bloom nuzzled against her grandmother as they stood at the windowsill to watch the star show, glad to feel her grandmother wrapping a front leg around her. “Ya still had Kizzy, right?” she asked innocently. Granny Smith smiled down at her dear granddaughter, thinking back to when her daughter was that age. “Yer right, I did,” she replied, resting her cheek against the filly’s forehead. “I sure didn’t know it at the time, but the best thing to ever happen to Kizzy was me meetin’ yer Granddad, Crab Apple.” The Apple grandchildren let out a collective gasp at the mention of their grandfather, a gesture which put a small grin on Granny Smith’s face. Big Macintosh gazed at a nearby framed photo on the wall, picking it up to put a visual to what his grandmother was saying. “Ya mean this Granddad?” he said as he tried to mentally put the pieces together while holding the framed photo of two old ponies happily holding hooves on a porch swing. “I thought ya said ya met him while vacationin’ outta town with yer family.” Granny Smith couldn’t help chuckling at her confused grandson. “I did meet him on a family vacation, ya silly goose!” she said with a big wink. “What do ya call that trip to Baltimare? A joy ride?” Big Macintosh suddenly smiled as all the pieces fell into place. “Nope,” he said, shaking his head at how it all seemed to make sense now. Granny Smith took the photo from her grandson and hung it back up on the wall. “I gotta be honest, it weren’t love at first sight,” she said as she straitened out the photo, thinking back to when she and her late husband were younger and full of suspicion of each other. “To tell ya the truth, we could barely stand each other. He was just so secretive, so demandin’, and just so darn stubborn…” The first week back at Sweet Apple Acres was the hardest for Smithy. She surprised herself by how accustomed she had become to the way Stinking Rich ran the household, to a point where she would get short tempered with her unwanted house guests. The Brotherhood of Steeds had camped out in her living room, and Crab Apple was going over every nook and cranny of the house and barn as if he was looking for something. Crab Apple had made a royal pain of himself with his snooping, popping up out of nowhere at random times and scaring the life out of Smithy. She had a suspicion that he enjoyed how annoying he was becoming, especially when his invasive behavior caused her to embarrass herself or break something. He would pester her in the kitchen, invade upon her chores, and even sneak up on her in the restroom. He had no respect for her privacy whatsoever, and it drove Smithy mad. Crab Apple was especially interested in the slaves living at Sweet Apple Acres, mostly for their living conditions, working conditions, and health conditions.  He explained to Smithy that if they were happy and healthy, they would work better, giving him a much bigger profit.  Smithy could care less for his excuses, so long as Kizzy was fairing well.   While things were frustrating enough with the Brotherhood invading her house, it got worse when Sunflower and her children showed up unannounced at her front door just weeks later. Sunflower decided to move in for a while after she and her eight children were forced to foreclose on their home. Happy Trails's moving and delivery business went belly up after his death, and with no money coming, the bankers took the house. Smithy hated having Sunflower’s children in a house full of gangsters, but Sunflower had assured her that the living arrangements would only be temporary until she could convince her father to let them move in with him in Canterlot. It reminded her of why she had left her mother and son in Dodge City, making her wonder if doing so was the right decision after all. She wanted to get Sunflower and her children out as soon as possible for their safety, but Sunflower knew just how to play the victim card to get what she wanted out of everypony at Sweet Apple Acres. Smithy hated feeling manipulated by her former sister-in-law, but the guilt of knowing she was responsible for the death of Sunflower’s husband was too strong to let her fight back. With Sweet Apple Acres under the Brotherhood of Steeds's new management, Smithy was glad to use her lack of control of her property to spend a bit more time than usual with her daughter. Of course, that time was always accompanied by Lizza, who still had a talent for dampening Smithy’s material joy. Lizza was convinced that Kizzy’s secret still needed to be kept for her safety, even if her tyrannical master was no longer living. While Smithy was disappointed in this idea, she did not trust Crab Apple enough to let her true feelings toward her daughter out. Lizza’s diligence had become what she considered a necessary evil. While the sun shown brightly on a hot spring afternoon, Smithy stood outside near a row of beehives with Kizzy and Lizza. They were collecting honey for a batch of pecan ice cream, and Kizzy was thoroughly enjoying her time with the bees. Considering the fact that Sunflower’s children were scared of bees, Kizzy found this to be a refreshing break from being pestered. She didn’t mind the bee stings nearly as much as she did the stingingly unkind words from the little Seed children. Kizzy loved how the bees tickled her ears as they crawled around on her head, the sounds they made as they buzzed through the air, and the fresh smell of flowers left on them after their pollinating exploits. She liked watching them dance to talk to each other, the action reminding her of Tess’s stories of Zebrican tribal dancing. Everything about taking care of the bees was fun and exciting. The only downside to spending time with the bees was that Lizza was just as terrified of the insects. Kizzy waved to Lizza as she watched the older slave hide behind a tree for fear of the bees. Smithy was much braver with the bees than Lizza was, and was excited to show her daughter how much they loved flowers. She had to admit to herself how adorable Kizzy looked wearing an oversized apron and Happy Trail’s old army helmet as the two of them approached the hives with her offering of flowers. She tuned out Lizza's hollered concerns from behind the safety of the tree as she watched Kizzy calmly interact with the hives. Kizzy seemed to have a real gift with the bees, and was overjoyed when a bee landing contently on her nose. Kizzy rushed up to Smithy to show her the insect who hadn’t stung her, smiling at her accomplishment and new little friend. “Look!” she said in an excited whisper. “Does it like me? I think that it likes me! Should I give it a name?” The family moment was cut short as soon as they noticed Crab Apple walking up. “Gotta watch it, kiddo,” he teased, smiling as he knelt down to Kizzy’s level. “Them bees see your yella and black stripes, they’ll think your nothin’ but a big bee. Then they’ll turn you inta their queen, and fly you off ta a flower patch where we’ll never see you again!” Kizzy smiled at the joke as she watched the bee fly away from her nose. “Yes, Mr. Crab Apple,” she replied politely. “We are collecting honey. Do you see? Misses is teaching me how to be nice to the bees so that they make sweet honey. It is messy and sometimes they sting, but it is so very fun! Do you see the honey jars we collected? Salty Ron says we will make good ice cream with sweet honey.” Smithy smiled at her daughter’s childlike enthusiasm, happy to see that her daughter was so proud of herself. She watched Kizzy bringing Crab Apple up to a row of jars containing the honey they had collected, talking a mile a minute about how proud she was of all the honey she had collected. Crab Apple opened a jar and dipped the tip of his hoof in, gathering enough for a nice tasty sample. “Mmmmmm! Mmmmmm!” he complimented as he stuffed the glob of honey in his mouth. “Boy, dat is tasty! It’s so good dat you better watch out for pirate bees. They sneak up on da honey jars, steal ‘em, and gobble ‘em up before you can blink! Like dis!” Kizzy laughed as Crab Apple pretended to shove invisible honey in his face, acting like an idiot as he made slurping noises with his tongue sticking out of his mouth. "Bees do not eat like that, Mr. Crab Apple!" she laughed heartily. Crab Apple playfully stuck his tongue out at the laughing slave. “They don’t?" he teased, resting his hoof upon his brow as though his mind had been blown. “Lemme guess, they're dainty, like dis." Crab Apple pretended to act like an upper class pony with the jar of honey, making an even bigger fool of himself and making Kizzy laugh all the harder. Smithy had to admit to herself that Crab Apple was much more kindly to the slaves than her late husband had ever been. It was a relief to watch Kizzy smiling and laughing, unlike how she behaved with her previous master. “I hate to put a bee in yer bonnet,” Smithy interrupted, standing between Crab Apple and Kizzy. “Iffn ya don’t mind, we still got this here chore to finish up before it gets dark.” As if on cue, Crab Apple pulled a notebook out of his vest pocket. “Funny you should mention,” he said as he flipped through it. “I gotta chore I need you for. Lizza, can you hold down da honey with Kizzy while I borrow Mrs. Rich?” Lizza nodded happily from her spot behind a tree. “I will do my best, Mr. Crab Apple,” she said as she swatted at a bee. Smithy couldn’t help cracking a smile as she watched the bee sting Lizza before turning her attention back to Crab Apple. “Can’t it wait?” she asked. “I reckon we still got a mess to clean up after we’re done, and after that we gotta cook dinner.” Crab Apple held up his notebook, writing in it as Smithy spoke. “Can it not wait?” he replied flatly. “Sun ain’t gonna be up all day you know, and I got stuff everypony needs ta get done. Da bees'll be here when you get back.” Smithy looked at that cheeky smile on Crab Apple’s face, hating that she was allowing him to push her around so much in her own house in exchange for blackmail and police protection. “This better be quick,” she replied as she took off her apron and slung it over a tree branch. Crab Apple lead her out of the bee field as he put his notebook back in his pocket, jumping slightly as a bee stung him on the flank. “Chores are only as quick as you let ‘em be,” he replied as he rubbed at the bee sting. “And I won’t change up plans on you last minute, so dat’ll help. We all know what happens when plans get changed up, don't we?” Crab Apple lead Smithy to the porch swing, pretending to act like a gentleman as he offering her a seat. “Big piece a property here,” he said as he took his notebook back out. “Makes it hard ta find stuff sometimes, don’t you think?” Smithy rolled her eyes as she watched Crab Apple tapping impatiently on his notebook with a pencil. “What are ya gettin’ at now?” she said with a frustrated sigh. Crab Apple lifted an eyebrow at Smithy’s attitude. “Papers,” he replied. “Da Faction must a had a spot where they did their business, and where there’s business, there’s papers. I lifted just about every board in da house and in da barn lookin’ for papers, and I can’t find anythin’. I need you ta point ‘em out for me.” Smithy was surprised that this was all he wanted. “Ya check the bunkhouse yet?” she asked. Crab Apple shook his head as he flipped through pages in his notebook. “Nopony told me about dis bunkhouse,” he said as he reviewed his notes. “You been keepin’ secrets from me?” Smithy shook her head she watched Crab Apple write frantically in his notebook. “Ain’t nopony told me ya were lookin’ fer it,” she explained. “Mah brother built it years ago so him and his band could have a spot to practice while they were in town without disturbin' everypony. It’s a couple miles west of here, back in the west orchard.” Satisfied to have found an answer, Crab Apple closed his notebook. “Lead da way,” he commanded. Smithy shot him a sideways glance as he held a helpful hoof out for her to take. “Ya want me to do what now?” she asked with a raised eyebrow. Crab Apple quickly set his hoof down, pursing his lips in frustration. “Unless you gotta map someplace you ain’t told me about, then I need a guide,” he explained. "So get off your flank and lead da way, or do I have ta get somepony else ta do it? Kizzy maybe? I bet she'd be up for an adventure, but I'd hate takin' her away from those bees. You know how she loves them things." Smithy rolled her eyes at Crab Apple's fake theatrics. "Fine," she said with a smirk as she hopped forcefully off the porch swing, glad to know that the motion of her jump made it come back and hit Crab Apple. "The sooner we get out there, the sooner we can come on back." The three mile hike to the bunkhouse was awkwardly silent as neither pony had anything much to say to each other. The only time they had anything worth saying to one another was when they arrived at the run down place. “Dis is it?” Crab Apple said, crinkling up his nose at how run down the bunkhouse was from the outside. Smithy nodded nonchalantly as she watched a roof tile slide off. “Eeyup,” she said as she went to the door. “What, don’t like gettin’ yer hooves dirty?” Crab Apple sneered at the snide comment as he walked up the porch. “Ladies first,” he said in a smart-alecky tone. A group of birds flew out at them the moment Smithy opened the door. Crab Apple swatted angrily at the creatures with his fedora hat as the birds darted toward him, cursing at them as they finally flew away. “I hate boyds!” he exclaimed as he put his hat back on, disappointed to see that there were several more birds roosting around the room. “What a dump! Your husband actually worked outta dis mess?” Smithy crinkled up her own nose to the odd assortment of odors wafting out of the bunkhouse. “I always hated comin’ by here,” she said, walking gingerly around piles of heaven only knew what. “I guess it weren’t a concern of theirs to keep things tidy.” Crab Apple looked up into the rafters at a line of resting birds. “I gotta get these boyds outta here,” he said as he picked up a horseshoe. “They’re gross! And they’re makin’ a mess everywhere!” Smithy watched him throw the horseshoe up toward his targets, making the birds scatter. She laughed as one of them pooped right on his face, laughing even harder as she listened to him curse and swear about how grossed out he was. “Good shot, lil' fella!” she laughed, snorting in her laughter as he turned to her. Crab Apple would have shot her a dirty look, but he was afraid to get bird droppings in his eyes. “Yeah, ha ha,” he said sardonicly. “Dis place better have a water pump or somethin’. I hate boyds!” Smithy watched Crab Apple stumble around blindly with a hoof out, trying desperately to find a sink. “To yer left,” Smithy suggested, getting a sadistic thrill out of watching him take a wrong turn. “No! Yer other left! Yer 'bout to hit a… oh ferget it. I’ll lead ya there.” Grabbing Crab Apple by the sleeve of his shirt, Smithy lead him up to a sink full of dirty dishes. She began to pump the water, which Crab Apple was happy to splash upon his face. Spitting a mouthful of water out into the sink, Crab Apple sighed contently at being cleaned off. “Did I get it all?” he asked as soon as he felt cleaner, feeling around on his face for any more bird poop that he might have missed. Smithy tried to suppress her laughter at how grossed out he was. “Looks like it,” she said as he blindly reached out for something to dry his face. Crab Apple reacted disgusted once again when he realized he’d dried his face with a lady’s undergarment. “We gotta get da papers and get outta here!” he hollered, completely grossed out by now. Knowing where the safe was kept, Smithy began to tap on the walls of the bunkhouse to find the hollow space. “Behind these here boards,” she said as she began to slide some wall boards out of place. “He thought it was sneaky to keep it all hidden.” Crab Apple trotted up eagerly to the wall to help remove the rest of the boards. “Dat’s da ticket!” he exclaimed, surprised to see something so carefully hidden covered in cigar butts. Brushing away the mess, Crab Apple set an ear against the safe to listen to the sounds of the knob turning. He knew that if he could hear the right kinds of clicks, he would be able to discover the safe’s combination. Smithy stood back to watch him work, noticing by his cursing when he made mistakes. She had thought to say something, but it was more fun watching him struggle. Crab Apple could hear her chuckling every time he cursed, which only served to annoy him even further. “You know how ta clean house?” he hollered at her. “Mind makin' yourself useful while I work, or are you too spoiled by your zebra slaves for dat kinda thing?” Offended by the comment, Smithy immediately took to her feet. “I ain’t spoiled!” she replied in her defense. Crab Apple smirked at the fuming pony standing in front of him. “You ain’t?” he said sarcastically. “You wanna prove it, lady? Actions speak a lot louder than words.” Smithy looked over the sea of litter in the room, knowing that this was not going to be an easy task. “Ya know where I can find a broom?” she asked stubbornly. Now at the end of his rope, Crab Apple rested his head against the safe. “How da hay should I know,” he said, frustration prevalent in his voice. “Maybe one a da boyds knows. Maybe they pooped on it. Maybe they’ll poop on it for you so you know where ta find it!” As if on cue, one of the birds pooped on top of Crab Apple’s head. “Stupid boyds!” he screamed, taking off his fedora hat to see the white splatter on his hat tinged with berry red. “They’re eatin’ berries now! What is dis! You think dis is a joke, boyds!” Smithy could barely control her laughter as Crab Apple flailed about the room. Throwing his dirtied fedora at her feet, Crab Apple began to holler at her. “Get rid a these boyds!” he commanded. “I don’t care how you do it, but do it! I hate boyds!!!”