Chapter 3
“Pinkie Pie?” Applejack’s words were whispered yet sounded too loud by far in the still darkness. “You asleep over there, hon?”
“No. Are you asleep?”
On her side of the tiny guest bedroom in Braeburn’s house, Applejack sighed. She’d hoped that she was the only one still awake. Partly she just wanted to make sure her sister and her friend finally received some proper shut-eye after recent events, but mostly she wanted some time to think and to plan--and, after that, time to execute all of those thoughts and plans. She had promised that everything would be okay. Sure, she hadn’t said those words exactly, but she hadn’t needed to say them. Promises weren’t made with words, anyway. Not the important ones.
She’d promised that everything would be okay, that she’d save Appleloosa’s apple trees--that she’d save Bloomberg--and she’d keep her promise. There wasn’t any doubt about that.
All she needed was for Pinkie Pie to finally fall asleep.
Careful to keep her voice quiet, Applejack replied, “Nah, Pinkie, I ain’t been able to sleep, either. Too much time stuck in bed back at the hospital, I reckon.” Beside her in the narrow bed, Apple Bloom shifted and groaned in her sleep. Applejack began petting the filly’s mane with a gentle hoof, and Apple Bloom quickly settled back down. “So what’s keepin’ you up, sugarcube?”
There was a pause, and Applejack’s stomach sank. Pinkie Pie didn’t pause before answering a question. Not usually, anyway.
“I’m really, super sorry, Applejack.”
“Sorry? Sorry for what?”
“For … well, for everything! I’m the one who said we should throw a party for Bloomberg, and I’m the one who asked you to come out to Appleloosa, and I’m the one who--”
“Shh! You’re gonna wake up ‘Bloom.”
Instantly Pinkie shut up. Applejack glanced down at her sister, who rolled over but otherwise didn’t stir. She let out a silent sigh of relief.
“Now, Pinkie,” she whispered. “None of that’s anything to be sorry for. I’m glad ya asked me to come out here. Ain’t your fault that there’s a bit of trouble going on, and it’s better knowin’ about problems than not knowin’.”
“You really think so?”
Applejack frowned. It seemed self-evident enough to her, but then again, it was usually a mistake to assume things when it came to Pinkie Pie. For good or for bad, Pinkie defied almost all the assumptions one could make about a pony.
“Yeah, I do.” Applejack turned her head to look over towards the cot set up on the opposite side of the cramped room. Pinkie’s eyes, shining bright as the moon outside, were all Applejack could see clearly through the dark. “First step to fixin’ a problem is knowin’ just what it is you gotta fix. Right?”
Pinkie giggled softly. “Sure! Y’know, AJ, you’re really good at fixing problems.”
“Probably because you and the other girls are so good at makin’ problems,” said Applejack, chuckling in return.
After a bit more giggling, Pinkie Pie fell silent, and so did Applejack. The farm mare turned her head to stare up at the low ceiling. The gaps between the wooden planks were just barely visible. She almost wished she couldn’t see the wood, as the nearness of the ceiling made the room feel even smaller than it was and set her hooves itching to bolt for the door. Giving her head a little shake, she went back to thinking over her plans. The train back to Ponyville was scheduled to leave tomorrow afternoon, and Braeburn was an early riser, just like all Apples were--which meant it had to be tonight.
Over dinner, Little Strongheart had explained that the buffalo and Appleloosan team who’d been sent up into the Macintosh Hills had gotten reasonably far along before they’d been ambushed. They’d brought a wagon full of empty barrels with them, and they’d managed to find a waterfall where they could fill up those barrels with relative ease. That roving gang of no-good thieves had shown up before the scouting team could unload and fill a single barrel, unfortunately, but the team had written it all down. Where the river was, where the waterfall was, where the wagon was.
All written down, nice and neat and clear as a bell. Applejack knew because she’d seen the map with her own two eyes. And she also knew that, right this very moment, that same map sat downstairs on her cousin’s kitchen table.
Slowly and silently, Applejack drew back her foreleg from around Apple Bloom before slipping out of bed. She grabbed her hat from the bedpost and began tiptoeing cautiously across the room, taking a zigzag path that avoided all of the loose floorboards she remembered from previous visits to her cousin. She’d just reached the door when she heard a soft creak come from the direction of the cot.
“Hey, AJ?”
Applejack froze.
“AJ, are you still awake?”
The farmer held her breath. She wondered if she could convince Pinkie she was asleep if she simply stayed quiet and still. She didn’t enjoy lying, even lies of omission, but speaking up would tip off Pinkie to what she was planning to do. And the very thought of Pinkie--or, heaven forbid, of Apple Bloom--trying to tag along on this little trip sent an icy jolt of fear straight through the middle of Applejack’s chest.
No. It was too dangerous, by far. Applejack would let them sleep, safe and sound under Braeburn’s roof, and she’d return before the dawn. They’d never have to know a thing until the deed was past and done.
“I guess you’re sleeping,” continued Pinkie, with a disappointed little sigh. “That’s okay. You had a really long, hard day--well, actually, you slept for a lot of the morning, but that’s only ‘cause you got hurt on the train. Which isn’t my fault, ‘cause you said it wasn’t, and you wouldn’t tell me it wasn’t unless it wasn’t. But I still feel bad, kinda.”
At that, guilt started churning in Applejack’s belly, thick and toxic as sludge. If Applejack hadn’t known better, she would have sworn Pinkie was doing it on purpose.
“I just wanted to make you happy. You’ve looked super, duper sad the last few days. I don’t like it when you look so sad.” Pinkie paused a moment and, when she spoke again, her voice had perked up considerably. “Oh, well! Guess it’s like Granny Pie always told me. If at first you don’t succeed, Pinkie, don’t cry over spilled milk!”
Applejack swallowed a laugh. Her hoof, still resting lightly upon the doorknob, gave the tiniest of twitches.
From across the room, Pinkie let out a stifled yawn. “This was a really good talk, AJ! We should--” Another yawn, longer and louder. “We should totally talk like this again more. I really like … talking to … you ...”
Applejack waited there in the dark, facing the gray wooden planks of the bedroom door and staring at the grooves in the wood. She had to clench her teeth together to keep from speaking out, from confessing she was still awake, from the sudden and ridiculous urge to ask Pinkie just what she’d like to talk about. But she hadn’t come this far just to fail, and so she kept her peace. Not until she heard the unmistakable sound of Pinkie’s snores joining Apple Bloom’s did she finally open the door and sneak downstairs.
High up in the Macintosh Hills, covered in shadows and not much else, the wind bit down to the bones with its chill. Applejack shivered as she slowly made the climb up the barren, craggy sides of the hills. She wasn’t much for clothing, by and large--clothes felt strange against her body, almost smothering--but right at the moment, she’d give her very best length of rope for just one of Rarity’s fancy scarves or frou-frou cloaks. Still, the wind was an inconvenience and an irritant. That was all. It would take a lot more than a bit of an evening chill to stop Applejack.
Suddenly she lost her footing and, wincing, slid down the cliff a few yards before she managed to halt her fall. Hot, screaming pain shot through her entire left foreleg like lightning, and she had to kneel down for a moment or two to catch her breath. She stared down at the hard, unforgiving gravel that sat beneath her shaking legs. Sweat trickled down her neck, causing her to shiver even harder than before.
“Oh, no,” Applejack muttered, “there ain’t no way I’m freezin’ to death on some godforsaken mountain in the dead o’ night …”
Gritting her teeth against the pain, she pushed herself back up onto all four hooves. She locked her eyes on the ridge above her and staggered forward once again.
Over a half hour later, after a few more falls and a lot more jaw clenching, Applejack pulled herself over the lip of the ridge. As soon as she was on level ground, she collapsed. Her shoulder burned, her lungs ached, and her eyes stung from the sweat pouring down her face--and she didn’t care in the least. Because right before her eyes, less than ten yards away, a small waterfall shimmered and glowed like liquid silver under the light of the moon. It stood in relief, strangely throne-like, against the gray and dusty boulders surrounding it on both sides.
Applejack grinned. Finally. She took a deep breath and, bracing herself, slowly stood. Reaching back into her saddlebags, she took out the map she’d borrowed from Braeburn. The wagon with the empty barrels couldn’t be too terribly far away. Pulling the wagon all by herself was sure to be an adventure in and of itself, she well knew, but that was a bridge she’d cross when she came to it. First things first.
Her ears flicked at the sudden sound of hoof crunching against stone, and her breath caught in her throat. She glanced up from the map and immediately found herself confronted with the gleam of white teeth and white eyes through the dark.
“Well, well, well.” The other pony chuckled, a deep rattle yet deathly quiet. “Lookie what we got here.”
The pegasus mare from the train. She’d only heard that voice once before, but she knew it was the same pony. She never forgot anyone who ever threatened her kin. And she made very sure that no one who threatened her kin ever forgot her.
The map dropped to the ground with a soft thud.
“I bucked you off a speedin’ train, varmint,” spat Applejack. “Don’t think I can’t buck you off a mountain.”
“You got in a lucky sucker punch. That’s all.” The other mare took a step forward into the moonlight, lifted a hoof to her mouth, and whistled. “Besides, tonight the odds are a little more even. Ain’t no crazy pink ponies ‘round to save ya now.”
From the depths of the shadows slithered three more ponies, each bigger and uglier than the last, all of them wearing big, ugly grins on their big, ugly muzzles. Applejack swallowed hard. Her heart hammered against her ribs, painfully fast, and her lungs still grasped desperately for air. To top it all off, her shoulder still burned like fire at the slightest twitch of her muscles, and it had been a long, long time since Applejack could remember feeling quite so worn out and used up.
But a nap wasn’t on the agenda. As one, the bandits attacked, rushing towards her like a tidal wave, and Applejack hurled herself forward in turn. She managed to make it about three steps before her leg folded. Tumbling to the ground, Applejack rolled end over end until she came to rest flat on her back.
The pegasus was there in a flash, looming over her with those white eyes and white teeth. Applejack lashed out with her rear legs and felt a tiny thrill of victory as they connected with soft fur and flesh. A loud, masculine groan confirmed that her aim had proved true. But the pegasus mare remained standing. With a snarl Applejack threw her head forward, headbutting the pegasus right between the eyes. The resulting crack of skull hitting skull rattled through her teeth.
The other mare staggered back a step or two, but it wasn’t enough. Before Applejack could even get back up on her knees, the mare was on her again, slamming a hoof into her bandaged shoulder. A scream bubbled up from somewhere deep down in her gut, and everything was pain, hot and heavy and suffocating. Kicks and punches started raining down on her from all sides, punishing, relentless. Applejack struggled to kick out again with her legs, but she couldn’t say if her limbs were obeying any of her commands.
“Get off her!”
The voice came down like thunder--and just like that, the punching and kicking stopped. Applejack blinked in surprise.
Out of nowhere, a lasso came whizzing through the air and fell perfectly over the pegasus’ head. Then the rope snapped taut, and the pegasus was yanked from her perch atop Applejack’s chest. A second later, a shadowy blur charged into the fray and plowed into the remaining bandits.
Applejack couldn’t see much from her position on the ground, but her ears took it all in. The grunts and groans, the yelps and shouts, the thuds and slams. An occasional explosion and hearty, full-lunged cheer. Her heart beat wildly in her chest as she listened to the fight unfolding all around her, and once or twice she strained her neck forward, desperate to catch just a glimpse. Everypony had retreated to the shadows cast by the cliffs above, and all the silhouettes wrestling one another looked just the same.
Finally there came the sound of hooves thundering against the stone and the pegasus’ angry shout of “You ain’t seen the last of us!”
After that, all stood quiet. The sound of her own labored breathing echoed in Applejack’s ears.
“A-Applejack?”
Applejack sucked in air through her nose. “Apple Bloom?” she called out, disbelieving, her voice little more than a croak.
“Applejack!”
Something small yet powerful hit her like a freight train. For a second, the world exploded in blinding white light, and Applejack thought she might lose her dinner from sheer pain-induced nausea. But the moment quickly passed. Once it had, she found her baby sister sitting just inches away from her face, those familiar orange eyes huge and wet with tears that sparkled like diamonds under the moon.
The older mare frowned. “You ain’t … supposed to … be out here.”
“Whoa, there, ‘Bloom.” Braeburn suddenly appeared within Applejack’s field of vision and scooped up the filly, depositing her onto his own back. “Gotta take it easy there. She’s a real strong pony, your sis, but she ain’t unbreakable.”
Apple Bloom nodded but otherwise didn’t respond. Instead, she just stared down at Applejack with those large, fearful eyes.
For perhaps the first time in her life, Applejack wished she had a mirror. Just so she could know exactly what Apple Bloom was seeing. “How’d you … how’d you know I’d left and gone to ...”
Braeburn glanced over his shoulder--at what or who, Applejack couldn’t see. He retreated a few paces and, after a moment, a familiar pink pony stepped into view.
“Pinkie sense,” said Applejack. It wasn’t a question.
Pinkie Pie shrugged. She was smiling, but it was a tiny little thing, almost unworthy of being called a smile at all. “Kinda, sorta? Mostly, I just knew you’d wanna go find water so Bloomberg could get all better.”
“What in Equestria were you thinkin’?” Applejack paused to suck down some air, even though her throat burned like she’d been guzzling whiskey. “Or weren’t ya thinkin’ at all, dragging my baby sister into danger like this?”
“Well, what were you thinking, sneaking away like a super sneaky pony and getting into danger?” Pinkie lifted her nose in the air and folded her forelegs across the chest. She held that position for all of three seconds before her face dropped into a sad little frown. “Besides, you said I was smart! If I’m smart, shouldn’t you trust me? Or do you think Pinkie Pie’s really just one big silly filly?”
A bitter rebuke rose up from somewhere deep in Applejack’s chest. Of course Pinkie was smart. Applejack had meant what she said. Applejack always meant what she said. But the words never made it past her lips. Instead of telling off Pinkie, she simply laid there. She lay there shivering, with her back flat against the hard stone of the Macintosh Hills, and she listened to the quiet, steady drone of the waterfall nearby.
Pinkie Pie just kept on staring. The mare could be unnervingly patient, sometimes. When she wanted to be.
Applejack turned her head away. Slowly she rolled over onto her belly, grimacing as she did so, and even more slowly stood back up. She wobbled a bit on her hooves but managed not to take a tumble. Without a word Pinkie stepped up beside her, and Applejack took the silent offer and leaned against the other mare for balance. Try as she might, she couldn’t quite hold back a sigh as the pleasant heat from Pinkie’s fur seeped down into her cold, aching bones.
“I’m awful tired, and I reckon y’all are, too,” Applejack said finally. “Why don’t we go get those barrels filled up with water then head back to town?”
Braeburn shuffled his hooves a bit. He sighed and took off his hat. Then, with another sigh, longer and louder, he put his hat back on his head. Applejack braced herself for an argument, but when he spoke, all he said was, “All right, cuz. We better get started before them bandits we sent packin’ get a chance to regroup.”
As Braeburn trotted off toward the waterfall, Apple Bloom riding securely atop his back, Pinkie followed along at a slower pace. Applejack took up the rear, unable to manage much more than a slow, tottering shuffle. Before long, Braeburn and Apple Bloom were so far away that they were mere silhouettes along the rocks.
Applejack licked her dry, cracked lips. She tasted blood. “Pinkie Pie?”
There was a pause, short yet stinging, before Pinkie replied, “Yes, Applejack?”
“I just wanted to say thanks. For comin’ out to find me and all that.”
“Well, of course. You’re one of my bestest best friends, and friends don’t let friends get ambushed by mean robber ponies.” Pinkie glanced over her shoulder, her eyes the only part of her face truly visible in the blackness of the hills. “Even if those friends are acting like grumpy meaniepants.”
Applejack said nothing.
In a silence laced with bone-deep exhaustion, the four ponies walked on until they’d reached a small cave. Braeburn and Pinkie ventured inside, while outside Applejack waited with her sister. It only took a few minutes for the other two ponies to emerge from the cave with yokes around their shoulders and a barrel-filled wagon in tow. Applejack helped her sister into the back of the wagon and then limped up to fall in beside Pinkie Pie as their little group began heading back for the waterfall.
Pinkie said nothing.
Applejack’s eyes cut over to the other mare, and she awkwardly cleared her throat. “Uh, Pinkie?”
“Yeppers?”
Applejack could feel her ears go flat against her scalp, and it was in a quiet voice she replied, “I’m sorry. All right? I’m sorry for actin’ like a grumpy meaniepants." Quietly she sighed. “I reckon the only real silly filly here is me.”
“Well, I appreciate the apology. Thank you.” Pinkie grinned, her teeth shining bright. “Besides, I like silly fillies.”