Clatter of hooves upon hard, pressed dirt hailed the arrival of a new player in the dusty town of Pinto Mesa, the newly constructed settlement locked inside the San Palamino Desert. The small settlement rested many miles from the town of Appleloosa, a recently populated desert town, who’s inhabitants had found the means to overcome a year long rivalry with the indigenous Buffalo tribe whom had been living on the land prior for countless generations. The settlers of Pinto Mesa had little contact with other settlements, due to the Mesa’s remote location, even when compared to Appleloosa.
Out in Pinto Mesa, a similar problem had been brewing since the settler ponies first stepped hoof upon the most inhabitable soil. A well spoken, smooth tone erupted from behind neatly cleaned teeth from an earth pony, standing atop a cliff edge overlooking the small settlement. His white coat shined cleanly in the sun, and his dirt brown mane and tail drifting faintly in the breeze. “You know, Mr. Mud Sill, it’s really kinda nice from up here.”
Two ponies stood beside him; one was a dark, muddy brown with a sandy yellow mane. This pony’s mark was a horseshoe stamped upon a rock. The other was a dull green Unicorn, with a skinny frame, and a mane whose brown almost matched the tone of wet earth. The mark upon the Unicorn’s flank was a cloudy grey spider web. The brown pony stepped beside the white stallion, and looked upon the town. “I agree, Mayor Big Bug.” And without a moment’s pause, the green pony stepped forth, speaking as well. “It would be a whole lot nicer, if we get control of that river. Without the water under our hooves, we’re going to dry up and wither away down there. Ain’t no money in that.”
Mayor Big Bug turned his head, looking back to the green fellow. “Mr. Four Flusher,” He started, a gentler accent than the other settler ponies had toned his speech with an air of authority. “We mustn’t get ahead of ourselves, now. We both know before that can happen, we’ll need the Sheriff to lend us his full cooperation. It’s not like the little hum drum towns folk here are exactly eager to do the dirty work we need done.”
“You know, Mayor. There’s always the easy way about it.” Mud Sill’s oppressive voice replied. Four Flusher rolled his eyes, and answered before the Mayor had the chance, whether the Mayor had intended to reply for himself or not. “Don’t be a fool. The Mayor needs everyone to think they’re doing the right thing. You could intimidate them, sure. We know that’ll work. It’ll also inevitably cause rebellion.” Four Flusher and Mud Sill served as the Mayor’s personal bodyguards and advisors. Four Flusher was the brains between the two, while Mud Sill was most certainly the brawn. Naturally, they inevitably found themselves at odds.
“Mr. Four Flusher is correct, Mr. Mud Sill. With the Buffalo tribe in the northern hills and basin controlling the river, we would be setting ourselves up for repeated defeat.” Four Flusher fought the urge to shoot an expression of smugness at Mud Sill, and instead nodded in agreement. Mud Sill had taught himself to look away from Four Flusher when the Mayor sided with him, at any rate. He found that ignoring the problem gave him incentive to simply go with the flow, and avoid trouble where it wasn’t needed.
“Right.” Mud Sill growled out the corner of his mouth. “So how exactly is having the Sheriff under your payroll going to change anything in this little dusty lump of land?” The Mayor shook his head with a knowing smirk across his face. The expression seethed of deceit. This prospect concerned Mud Sill, for despite his attraction to power, the hiding of plans were always cause for caution. “In due time, Mr. Mud Sill.” Mayor Big Bug chuckled. “In due time. For now, I think we’d best get back to town. You’ve got some tax collecting to take care of, and I’ll need Mr. Flusher to assist me in some… city planning.”
Meanwhile, deep in the desert, upstream from the dusty settlement, many horned creatures rested in the shade of a large rocky formation. All around the largest mesa from which the town took its name, Buffalo had formed semi permanent housing in and around the cliffs. While many of the buffalo were simply lazing about, a nearly equal number were pushing baskets of grain and fruit gathered from the desert plants and grassland. Rare though abundant plant land was in such an arid setting, the buffalo tribes had lived on and adapted to the land very well over their countless years of desert dwelling.
A grand circle of stone encompassed a large stony fire pit where the buffalo held ceremonies and public nighttime fires. A particularly large buffalo with deep, earthy brown fur and grey horns rested in front of this great circle. Beside the great being, a smaller buffalo sat as well. Young and paler in color, he had white sunburst designs upon his front hooves. The big buffalo spoke in a stunningly low tone, resonating like a boulder rolling upon the ground. “Sun hoof,” He stated, naming the younger buffalo beside him. “My son. How long have you walked these lands for our kind?”
Sun Hoof stood, and walked before his father, the great Chief of the Buffalo of Pinto Mesa. “Years now, father. You have taught me to walk the sands and cross the waters of the river since I was a calf.” The Chief grumbled to himself. While not old, he was a highly relaxed and slow moving buffalo when no particular hurry was in order. He continued speaking to his son. “I am worried, Sun Hoof. The ponies down river are content. Perhaps too content.”
“But Chief,” Sun Hoof spoke, the gentlest tint of thought in his voice. “They pose no threat to us. We are taught that all share the world since we were born.” His father, the Chief, gathered himself, and hauled his massive frame to his feet, standing taller than even he looked while laying. “You misunderstand, my son. I do not wish to declare a war. I simply wished to ask something of you. I understand if you do not want to carry out this request.”
Sun Hoof circled before his father. “Of course. What do you want me to do?” The Chief walked to the edge of the shadow cast upon the dry ground from the massive cliffs, directing his gaze upon the river and ultimately the barely visible settlement in the distance. “These settler ponies believe this land to be empty. They see only the sand and cactus, the snakes and mice and hawks. I would ask that you make the journey into their town, to speak with their people. Show them who we are, and perhaps we can make some kind of friendship between our kinds.”
Sun Hoof stared upon the horizon with his father, not speaking. The Chief acknowledged his silence of contemplation, not speaking, but allowing the pause in conversation. Sun hoof finally replied, “I will try, if you believe that it is right.” The Chief bumped his son’s shoulder with his own in an affectionate manner, to show trust in his son. The Chief, however, also added a word of warning. “When you go, be careful. I do not think that these ponies wish us harm, but we do not know them. Avoid confrontation at all costs, and keep your eyes open.” Sun Hoof nodded, understanding.
The Chief and his son spoke a bit longer, ending their conversation about the settlement and its inhabitants. Sun Hoof progressed towards the river, to follow the water downstream towards the settlement below. As the Chief’s son shrank into the distance with each step, a buffalo with nearly black fur entered the stone circle and crossed to the Chief’s side. Jet-black fur circled above his hooves and across the tuft of thick fur around his neck. “Chief Stonehorn. You trust that these intruders will listen to Sun Hoof?” This buffalo was not quite as large as the Chief, but proved to be much larger than most others from the tribe. The Chief glanced to the side in consideration.
“He is a noble heart, and an honest speaker. If words will connect our two kinds, I am confident that he can be the one to start this friendship.” Chief Stonehorn answered, words of stony conviction and faith emerging like falling timber. The dark buffalo did not answer for a moment. He simply stared upon the distant settlement before speaking. “Chief, I do not trust these strangers. They corrupt the land with their homes, taking apart land from elsewhere to create boxes upon once beautiful land.”
“I know how you feel, Hard Heart.” The Chief said, answering Big Hard Heart’s concerns. “But I have faith that there is good in all creatures. We must trust that someone will listen to our display of brotherhood.” Big Hard Heart’s eyes rested a moment, as he considered the wisdom of the Chief. His lips loosened and he formed a small smile. “You are truly a wise buffalo, Stonehorn. We would be lost without your guidance.”
Chief Stonehorn shook his head, turning back to walk into the shade of the mesa once again. “No, Hard Heart. We would be lost without each other. Without you. Without Sun Hoof. We are all important. No buffalo should ever rely on simply one, but instead rely on all.” Hard Heart kept watch on the landscape as the Chief spoke his final words of wisdom while returning to his lazy rest. Walking back into the village as well, Hard Heart had hoped that the settlement would prove welcoming to their kind, and accepting of the gesture of friendship that Sun Hoof would bring to pony-kind at Pinto Mesa.