In this town there lived an outlaw by the name of Big Red, and damn was he a ruthless son of a whorse. As long as anypony cared to remember he'd been raising cane in Appleoosa, ever since the day he breezed into town and shot ole' Sheriff Silver Star dead. No rhyme, no reason, just a bullet to the head and the town was Red's to do with as he pleased. Since that day he'd added sixteen more notches to his pistol. One for each kill. No one knew who the first three belonged to though, but they could certainly give name to the others. Not that they would, most of those wounds were still fresh on their hearts.
It should be no surprise then that eventually, after a day of nervous pacing, Breaburn had come to a decision to confront the stranger who'd came strolling into town with a gun worn brazenly on her side and nary a word to anypony. Now despite what one might think, Breaburn wasn't a stallion who liked to sit idle, or to even think too long and hard on most issues, but this was something that concerned not just him, but the entire town. For all he knew this mare could be the next Big Red, and that warranted caution. Caution and a hefty amount of hard cider before he even considered meeting with her.
Sitting alone in a corner of the local saloon was the stranger, nursing a glass of water and keeping her own counsel. Not that she really needed to try too hard to do that. Nopony'd come near her for fear of her doing something violent. She couldn't really blame them for that really, not every day you have somepony breeze into town looking like they were ready to put a bullet in you. That thought drew a small amused snort from her and sent a near by patron scrambling for cover under his table in fear.
It took her a bit by surprise when somepony decided to join her at her own little table, and from the smell of it somepony who really enjoyed being pickled. "Summat ah can help ya wit'?" she asked calmly, looking up at the stranger from under the brim of her hat.
Breaburn gulped softly, the piercing emerald gaze of the stranger made his throat go suddenly dry despite his earlier attempts to drown himself in a cider barrel. How could a pony look so scary with nothing but a little cast shadow and a pair of green eyes? Swallowing his nervousness he spoke up finally, stumbling and slurring just a little. Quite the politician, eh?
"Ah'm Breaburn... Tha headpony of this here town. Ah need to know just who ya are an' what yer doin' here." His sentence ended in a soft little hiccough*.
She chuckled a moment before she replied, pushing her hat back a bit so she could look him dead in the eye. "Ah'm Applejack. As fer what ah'm here fer, I take it ya know just who Big Red is? Ah should hope ya do considerin' all tha trouble he's been causin' round these parts. Ah'm here to take him back to Marizona, either live or dead, don' matter much tah me."
The silence that followed these words was tangible. Hell or highwater, I'm willing to bet you coulda cut it with a knife if you'd been so inclined, that's how thick it was. After a good three minutes of that utter lack of sound (not even so much as a cricket dared say a thing) most ponies burst out laughing, cryin', and carryin' on. Apparently that was one of the funniest things they'd ever heard.
Breaburn was one of the few not laughing his head off, no. Instead he managed to keep a pretty serious face as he gave a sigh of relief. "Well miss Applejack, ah can't really recommend ya try that, but ah ain't gonna stop ya. Might ah ask just why you wanna throw yer life away like that though? Pretty mare like yerself'd probably be happier livin' out in Canterlot with the rest of them high falluten-" He was cut off there by a glare from AJ, those emerald eyes bored into his own, just daring him to finish that sentence.
"Ah got my reasons, and tha only one ya need to know is it's mah job. Ah'm a Ranger, Red's a wanted pony. Ya can do tha math on that'un."
With that she took up her glass of water, drained the rest of it, and walked calmly out into the noon day sun. The one other pony who hadn't been laughing at her words watched her go, a shifty eyed little slime ball who slipped off after her, a scheme for some quick cash in mind.
"Ah'm tellin' yer Red, she done said she's 'ere ta kill ya. Now, ah didn't have ta go and warn ya like that sir, but ah figured you'd be willin' to throw an old stallion like me a bone for the warnin' yeah? A few bits so I can get outta town and outta yer mane?" That same shifty little scuzz groveled at the hooves of Big Red, or more accurately, under them.
Red looked down at his would be black mailer with a sadistic smile, one at odds with the otherwise handsome face he sported. He had just one thing to say to that incessant brown nosing though, and he thought it was just the proper response for the sorry excuse for a stallion who his hoof on his throat. "Eenope."
The wet snapping sound of a neck breaking startled a near by buzzard from its perch.
Red smiled softly to himself, he wasn't worried at all. Everypony who'd tried to take him before had died just as easily at that. A bullet in a head here, a knife in the ribs there, they all were just worthless. This ranger'd be no different. He glanced down at the corpse at his hooves one last time and decided that this one wasn't worth remembering, not when he had already added another couple notches today. Twenty one, that'd be the ranger's number after she was dead.
"In this town there lives an outlaw by the name of Big Red,
Many'd tried to take him and ere'one was dead.
He was ruthless and a killer, though only twenty four
and the notches on his pistol numbered one and nineteen more.
Now the stranger startled talkin'
Made it clear to this here town,
She's a Marizona ranger wouldn't be long in this town.
Came here to take an outlaw back alive or maybe dead,
said it didn't much bout Big Red.
Wasn't long before the story was relayed to Red,
but the outlaw didn't worry those that tried before were dead.
Twenty'd tried to take him and those twenty they were dead,
Twenty-one'd be the ranger with the big iron on her hip."
The undertaker sang to himself, still at work on that coffin. It was quite a lovely example of his craft, he'd even fasten a small plaque upon it, emblazoned with a name. Smiling to himself he got to work sewing the lining for those one, a nice candy apple red...