//------------------------------// // Promises // Story: Property of West Wind // by OleGrayMane //------------------------------//   Applejack placed the diary on the kitchen table, sat down, and crossed her hooves. She slid the book a few inches closer to her grandmother. “Would you've had him winter-over?” “He was a decent fellow.” Granny Smith's voice held an exhaustion beyond the late hour. She sat and stared with glassy eyes, through her granddaughter's form and beyond the kitchen's far wall. “That may be, but it don't answer my question.” “And how do ya expect me to give an honest answer?” Granny snapped. “How's anypony supposed to give an honest answer after readin' that book of his and knowin' what happened?” Applejack hung her head. “Dammit!” A cup rattled in its saucer as Granny struck the table. “I should've listened to Mac and sent him on his way. He'd be alive today if I had and we'd all be better off for it!” Applejack peered at her from beneath the brim of her hat. The anger in Granny's face melted into a vacant stare. “But—” she continued in a voice small and lost. “But it didn't seem right. The three of them comin' together and us sending one of 'em off—it just didn't seem right. Not right.” “How could ya have known, Granny?” Applejack said. “None of us know the future. You did what ya thought was right and proper. There ain't no blame in that. Things happen—things we can't help.” “But I could've helped!” Granny reached across the table, grasping at something distant and intangible. “I could've sent him away on the day he came. I could've sent him away after the fightin'. Twice! I could've saved him twice, just by sendin' him away. But I didn't.” Applejack remained silent. “I couldn't bring myself to do it. I just couldn't.” Granny sighed and slumped back as if she'd exhausted the last of her strength. She placed her hooves on the table and pressed them together. Applejack retrieved the book and leafed through its pages. She reached the last page with writing, closed it, and held it before her with both hooves. “Why didn't he ask me?” Granny pleaded. “I could've told him we couldn't promise nothin'. He was on a fool's errand, Applejack. A fool's errand.” As Applejack began to reply, anger siezed Granny again. “Dammit! If that's what kindness buys these days, I'm through with it! What good did kindness do, eh? Is anypony better off 'cause of it? One pony's dead and another's on the run from the law. Tell me where's the good in that? Kindness ain't worth the cost!” “Don't talk like—” “Oh, I'm sorry, it's just…” She paused and sighed. “Ya think you're doin' the right thing, being a good pony, helpin' folks out, and then—then this.” “Ya did the best you could, Granny.” Applejack mustered a pained smile. “I don't know. I just don't know no more.” Granny closed her eyes and exhaled. “We didn't make much from cider this year, but, thank heavens, we're still in the black.” She opened her eyes and looked forlorn at Applejack. “We might not have been able to feed him, let alone pay him. You should know that much from workin' at the numbers yourself.” “Yes, I do.” Applejack reached over and touched her. “I just needed to know your mind.” Granny pulled back and looked out the window. “Well”—Applejack placed the book between them—“what do we do with this now?” Granny refused to turn and look at her or the book. “He had some books borrowed from the library that'll need returnin'. I reckon you should take that with 'em tomorrow when you go into town. Give it to your friend. She'll know the right thing to do.” —❦— “But he was just here the other week.” “I know.” Applejack sat by the library door watching Twilight flip through the pages of the diary hovering in front of her. “And now he's—gone. Just like that. Gone.” “I know.” Applejack fidgeted. “And his friends?” “His friends?” Applejack huffed. “Shorty ain't been seen since the day of the accident. He packed-up and high-tailed it out of there before we figured out what to do. Sheriff's mighty anxious to talk to him, let me tell you. And his other so-called friend…” Twilight paused and looked up. “Hmm?” “Doc didn't show up for breakfast the next day,” Applejack said. “Mac went to check on him at the bunkhouse, and he'd cleared out too. Didn't say nothin' to nopony 'bout it. Left behind his escrow to boot. And that's after all but promisin' Granny he'd be there.” Applejack shook her head. “I don't know what to make of none of that.” Twilight resumed reading, breezing through the pages, while Applejack sat patiently watching. “Remarkable,” Twilight exclaimed. “What's that?” “I find it really remarkable,” Twilight said. “He didn't have any family at all?” “He did, just, it's—well—complicated and different,” Applejack said. “They all got regular families, ya know, but none they'll tell ya about. I mean, they leave 'em behind in most cases to escape their troubles and all.” “Remarkable,” Twilight repeated and shook her head. “I guess they make do with havin' friends,” Applejack continued, “like with the three of them comin' to town together and working at different places and such. But its nothin' permanent like a family.” Twilight looked up from the book. “What about that tailor in Manehatten he mentioned?” “Watchmaker and Fillydelphia,” Applejack corrected. “Right—sorry. Did you contact him? Did he know anything about him or his family?” “Sent an airmail message off to him yesterday. Cost us quite a bit, too.” Applejack removed her hat and pushed her forelock aside. “Had the mailpony wait for his reply and everything.” “And?” Twilight closed the book and placed it on her writing desk. “Poor old feller was really broke up by the news. Nephew was, too. It made me feel bad having 'em hear what happened that way.” “Of course, but did they have any details about his family?” “Nope.” Applejack pursed her lips. “Said we'd spent more time with him than he had, and that we probably knew more about him than he did. I don't reckon that's the case.” “I don't know what to say.” Twilight laughed nervously. “I'm just so used to having a family, knowing that they're there, even when I don't see them that often. You end up taking it for granted they'll be there when you need them. Then you read about ponies like this, and—” Her mouth hung open as she searched for words. “I'm going to have to take time and read it properly,” she concluded, “maybe then I'll understand.” “Ain't that hard to understand,” Applejack said, “it's just we're not used to it, that's all.” “I don't see what you mean.” “See, it's not like he didn't want family, Twi',” Applejack said. “I figure that's why he wanted to stay here instead of movin' on, so he could be part of our family—part of the Ponyville family. I mean, everypony wants to feel like they belong somewhere, some place where they're appreciated for what they do and who they are. That's just plain sense. But it comes so easy to ponies like me and you, we forget that ain't always gonna be the case. “Fellers like them, for some reason or t'other, seem to have to work hard to find where they need to be. They ain't handed a family like we are. Instead, they gotta go out and find one to be part of or make one of their own. Some of 'em might never find one at all, and in his case, well—he found one too late.” Twilight smiled. “You're quite a philosopher, AJ,” she said softly. “Well, that may be,” Applejack sighed, “but philosophers still gotta work. I best be dealin' with the rest of my business in town.” She put on her well-worn hat and pushed it back. “I'll see ya tomorrow?” “Oh, yes. Of course,” Twilight replied and paused briefly. “What time is the service?” “Eleven o'clock,” Applejack replied. “Up on the hill—” She halted and her lips began to quiver and her voice shook as she forced herself on. “—where my parents…” Twilight strode across the room and wrapped her forelegs around Applejack's shaking body. “Oh, AJ.” Twilight pulled her close. “I'm so sorry.” “It's okay.” Applejack tried to clear her throat. “I'm—I'm all right. I just wasn't ready…” She let out the faintest of gasps and then didn't make a sound. “Now”—Twilight hugged her—“you take some of that back to Granny Smith, okay? It sounds like she could use it, too.” Twilight felt a nod. “I will—thank you.” Twilight clung to her for a long time, tightening her grip on each sniffle until they stopped. “I want you to know,” Applejack whispered. “I'm glad you're part of my family.” As Twilight released her, she placed her hooves on Applejack's shoulders and looked into her glistening green eyes. She smiled. “And I'm glad you're part of mine.” —❦— Doc scrambled to the top of the embankment and collapsed, laying face down in the long, dry grass with his eyes closed. At the water's edge the frogs croaked their song for day's end. Only an hour or two remained before the trains would be coming through, and he'd have to get moving. Right now, he couldn't. Deep breaths were hardly slowing things down. Doc opened his eyes and rolled on his side and propped himself up. The grass was slippery, and he slid a bit. He looked down at the cattails growing in the shallow creek where Shorty's body lay. All at one, a peculiar thought entered his mind. Those crawdads finally got their supper—they just needed to be patient. Eerie laughter possessed him, ending at last in a sob. He dragged his hooves down his face. A few gasps of air let him regain his composure. Doc picked up the folding knife sitting on his left and wiped its blade on the grass. It was far from clean, and the mechanism was obviously fouled. No time or means to deal with it, he thought, and he scowled as he hurled it upstream. The knife tumbled through the air and landed in the water with a satisfying plunk. It had never been a good knife anyway, he reasoned. The reddening sky stood as a reminder of the hour. He'd kept his promise, and now he had to make a choice. Shorty's gear would take a ride on a southbound freight, that was already determined. The two of them had done enough talking about Las Pegasus that everypony would expect them to be heading that way. He'd leave a few bits in Shorty's pack to make it look genuine. With the remainder of Shorty's money, and his own, he'd be set for a while. But where to go? The plans he'd made in spring were shot now, probably forever. Filly or Manehatten then? After all, he knew plenty of folks there, but if Shorty was found before spring... Shorty would be found, and it didn't matter when. And when Shorty was found, they'd come looking for him. No doubt about that. Old acquaintances, Doc realized, were a liability. Those places were out. He lifted himself up and dashed to the tree where he'd stashed his things. Doc sat, pressing himself close to the trunk to disguise his silhouette. As he looked towards Ponyville, he shook his head. West had been right all along: The place had been a sweet deal. Too bad he couldn't stay there. Not there and not here. It had been years since Doc didn't know where he was headed. Then he remembered someplace nopony knew about, well, nopony alive. A dozen years, he mused. Would they know him? Want him? Stranger things had happened in this forsaken world. He tossed on his bags, grunting as he added Shorty's to the load. “Time to take a little trip,” he announced to the world in general. “Let's go see if they recognize old Meadowlark.” He trotted towards the rail line as a chilly October breeze swept leaves around him. It reminding him of the coming winter. Winter reminded him of growing up in Whinnyapolis. Nopony could conceive of a rottener place to spend a winter. Ice and snow and bitter cold even on a sunny day. He'd hated that city, its cold, its endless winters, and he'd hated his family, and his wife, and eventually himself. But it had been home, and it might be again. When he'd told Granny Smith he was heading home it had been a pleasant lie, a little something to make the old mare feel better. Then the silly old thing had to go and wish him luck. He hadn't thought much about needing that sort of luck since he hadn't been telling the truth at the time. Meadowlark laughed. He was becoming a terrible liar.