//------------------------------// // Chapter 37; On the farm // Story: The War of 1002 // by Fireheart 1945 //------------------------------// "Just you wait, Applebloom is gonna come runnin' when she hears you're back," Applejack told James cheerfully. "I'll be glad to see her too. Hopefully she hasn't been in any life-threatening danger since I left?" "Nah, she remembers what them timberwolves almost did; can ya believe it, she's even scared to go visit Zecora for fear of them varmints." "Considering that my arm was torn open by one, I sympathize," he said, looking at his left arm as he did so. The scars were still there, although very faint by now. His thoughts travelled back to that first battle, and how it had almost ended his own life. How long ago had that been? Six, seven, eight months? Maybe more? It was hard to tell; the war seemed to stretch on forever; one little battle, a drop in the ocean compared to the big picture. "Ah know, and she's been a mite more careful since then, but personally ah liked it when she was out there explorin', tryin' to get her cutie mark. Not sayin' she ain't still tryin', but..." She let the lack of an ending for that sentence speak for itself. "Being almost killed by roving monsters in a spooky forest might have that effect. However, I agree, I prefer the Applebloom that was crazy about getting her cutie mark over the one scared of her own shadow." "She ain't that scared, but ah would like it if she was back to normal." "In any event, I hope the war hasn't had a negative effect on the farm?" James asked. "Well, ah wouldn't say negative, but a few things are different," Applejack said, looking a little nervous. "Much of our crops are donated to the war effort. We still get paid, 'course, but honestly, ah liked sellin' our produce in the Ponyville market a lot better n' gettin' a check from the royal treasury." "You don't get a lot of honest merchants in the market, and of course there's always someone who wants to haggle over the price." "Ah know what things r' supposed ta cost," the orange earth pony insisted. "Ya think I could manage mah business so well if'n ah didn't know any math?" She bore a smile upon seeing his slightly surprised face. "Ah may just be a simple farm pony, but ah've have an education too. Enough so ah can count mah money." They continued walking. James felt oddly calm. He had wanted to go on fighting the war, true enough; actually, he still did. However, having time to relax and fit back into civilian life for a while would be a nice change, even if it was temporary. "Oh, and didn't ah tell ya? Big Mac is coming home on leave too." "Really?" James said in honest surprise. "Yep. Why didn't you know that?" "I didn't bother to check who was going on leave and who wasn't; there are probably thousands of names on that list alone." "Well it's a good thing he's on it; it's time to plant our crops fer this season." She gave him an evaluating look. "Wouldn't mind helpin' us, would ya?" James was caught by surprise. "You want my help?" "Yep." Applejack smiled. "Yer big an' strong. You could help us." James considered it. As he was pondering the idea, Applejack continued, "You'd get some bits fer yer trouble, and ah'd really appreciate it." "Okay, you've convinced me," he said after a few moments. "But look here," he said, stopping next to a fence post and taking off one of his shoes, as well as taking the sock of the same foot, "this," he said, pointing to it, "it what you're expecting to use to knock apples out of trees. My foot would probably shatter with the force you use; your hooves are hard enough to do what you need, and since you can't feel anything with them it's easy for you. Not so much for me," he finished, redressing. "Don't worry about that, sugarcube; we'll find a way for ya to do somethin' to contribute." "Thanks." "No problem." By now the farmhouse was in sight. After a long morning of travel, James was looking forward to some lunch; he was sure the Griffons could hear his stomach growl all the way out in the northeast. "You're back! You're back!" A yellow filly with a bright red bow in her mane came bouncing up to James, who was barely able to keep Applebloom from sweeping him off his feet; she might have been a child, but as an earth pony and member of a farming family at that, she was strong. She set her forehooves on his chest, looking him in the face. "Ah can't believe it! You're back!" He patted her mane as Applejack chuckled. "You're her hero, no doubt about that." "You're her sister; that is the greater honor by far." He watched as the orange pony blushed slightly. "It's good to be you too, Applebloom," he said to the filly. "You seem to have grown a little since I was last here." "Ya think so?" she asked, looking into his face. "Yes. With any luck, you'll be big enough to wrestle the bear Fluttershy has for a friend." "What ah really want is mah cutie mark," Applebloom answered, sounding, and looking, disappointed. "Ya don't know how bad it feels to see everypony in mah class - 'cept Scoots and Sweetie Belle - with a cutie mark." James glanced over at Applejack. She gave him a look that said, I've heard this before, and now it's your turn. "I guess you'll have to keep trying," he said after a few seconds, "but please be careful. I can't be fighting a war and protecting you at the same time." "Ah will; ah Pinkie promise." "Alright, you little rascal, let's go and have something to eat; I haven't eaten anything since breakfast very early this morning," James said, and she got back down to all fours; even there, her head came up past his waistline. Although ponies in the show were depicted as being rather small, in reality they were bigger than they were given credit for. "Mah sister ain't a rascal," Applejack said with mock indignation. "You're right," he said, and she relaxed a little. That was a mistake. "She is a former rascal," he went on, and, from her astonished face, he could tell that he'd got her good. "Why, you..." Applejack burst out laughing, followed by James and Applebloom in short order. Grooooooooowwwwwwwllllllll "What was that?" Applebloom asked. Groooooooooowwwwwwlllllll This time, everyone recognized the sound as James' hungry stomach. "Ah think we should get ourselves some lunch," Applejack said kindly. "To the farmhouse, y'all!" ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- James awoke to the sound of a rooster crowing. He got up, yawned, stretched, and looked around. It took him a minute to remember where he was; then he put on his shirt, made sure his shorts were fitting properly, and stretched once more. Since arriving at the farmhouse, he'd had little to do, as the Apples planned to start work once Big Mac had arrived, which was supposed to be sometime this morning. He'd played a number of board games with Applebloom and the other Cutie Mark Crusaders; they were amazingly good at them, although he'd managed to hold his own once he'd learned the rules. Chess and checkers they'd had; he was able to beat all of them quite handily at chess, but Sweetie Belle had a knack for checkers, and beat all of them easily. He was a little surprised that she hadn't gotten a cutie mark for it. One thing they'd asked him about repeatedly was the war and the adventures he'd been on. He tried not to lose his temper; they were only kids, after all. They knew nothing about war as it truly was. He'd delayed, tried to talk about their own adventures, kept countering their questions with queries about the game they were playing. Eventually, though, some of his frustration must have leaked through, because Scootaloo finally suggested that they discuss something else. Perhaps he needed the break from the war more than he'd realized. Big Mac, being a frontline trooper, would probably need it as much as he did. He fastened his revolver onto his belt; Blue Fur had managed to return it before he'd left. The designs he'd been working on had been given to the engineer. "Awful fine science went into that little piece of yours," the blue pony had said. "I managed a little of my own magic with it." "You didn't alter it in any way, I hope?" James had asked. "No; however, you'll find that in a few weeks, our army will receive a surprise of it's own." James had nodded in understanding. He'd pulled out the blueprints for the project he'd been working on. "Can I ask you to give them another such, ah, surprise by the time I return?" Blue Fur had looked over the plans, then nodded, smiling. "I doubt I'll have this complete within a week," he'd replied. "But ten days should be enough for the prototype to come out, give or take a few days." "Thank you." James gave him a quick salute. They'd parted, each getting something they'd wanted. He now had plenty of ammunition to use, and the gun was cleaned and polished as never before. He didn't intend to be parted from it for a minute; Equestria could, occasionally, be a much more dangerous land than the show depicted, as the war proved. James walked downstairs, into the kitchen. Already breakfast was being prepared; the sweet smell of it danced through his nostrils, breaking through whatever shadows might have been crossing through his mind. "Howdy, James," Applejack said to him as he entered. "Ya hungry?" He nodded. "Yes." "Well, just sit down at the table; breakfast is almost ready. James sat down, as he had been told. He pulled out Guns of the South and read quietly for the next few minutes. Although he disliked the idea of a successful Southern split from the Union, he did like knowing what it was like back into those days. "The pegasi scheduled a dilly of a downpour last night," Applejack said worriedly as she set breakfast on the table and Applebloom came to eat. "Aw, hayseed," Applejack said in despair upon looking out the window. "The ground's gonna be slippery and sticky, an' it's gonna make everything harder." "The pegasi manage the weather even at night?" James asked. "Yep; and right now, ah wish they didn't." Both earth ponies bore worried expressions. There was a knock on the door. James made to get up, but Applejack waved a hoof at him. "Ah'll get it." She left the room to answer the door. A moment later, James heard a joyful gasp; Applejack cried, "you're back!" and he heard the sound of heavy hooves thudding on the floor. Big Macintosh walked into the dining room shortly afterward. Out of habit, the big red pony saluted James upon recognizing him. James chuckled. "No need of formality here, big guy; I'm on leave, same as you are." "You sayin' he's fat?" Applejack asked, apprehension in her voice. Both males laughed. "It's just a nickname that the soldiers in his company call him," James explained. "It has nothing to do with overeating. He's quiet, but his comrades absolutely love him." Big Macintosh walked up to the table and sat down. He was about to choose something from the table, but noticed just in time that his hooves were caked with mud. "The whole countryside's covered in mud, AJ," he said slowly and deliberately, as he always did. "Gonna be hard fer buckin' an' plowin'." "Ah know, Mac, but it's gotta be done." Applejack sat down at the table. "We got James to help us, at least," she said, pointing her hoof at him. Big Mac nodded, looking at the human and sizing him up. "He ain't the strongest fella, but he might be useful." "Still, our hooves are gonna slip n' slide in that muck," Applejack said. "We need to find somethin' to get a better grip." "Ah'd say we need horseshoes. The real ones we nail on," Big Mac stated. "Can't see boots stayin' on, not in this muck." "Okay, then. We'll put on horseshoes ta get through the mud." "But...That horseshoe is a little big for you," James protested. She chuckled. "Ya think we don't keep some of the right size fer rodeos an' work?" "I... guess it could work," he said as Granny Smith came down the stairs. "What did ah miss?" the elderly mare asked. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ "You sure this won't hurt you?" James asked. He, Applejack, and Big Mac were inside the barn; Applebloom had been brought to school by her brother and Granny Smith was currently taking a nap. He was sitting in a chair next to an anvil, with several horseshoes of appropriate size lying on it. "Ah told you, before, sugarcube, ah've had this done hundreds of times, and it never hurt, not even once," Applejack reassured him. "Well, then." James took her right front hoof in his hand. Pony hooves were made entirely of keratin all the way through; the bottom of the hoof was flat all the way across to either side. There was no parts made of flesh, no frog, no soft part, nothing but smooth surface. Well, almost smooth; scratches and dents told of hard work and a rough life. Up close, it was possible to discern a pony's hoof from the rest of their foreleg, as the scratches in the side of the hoof became very clear from such a short distance. A lot of things that pony hooves did in the show - such as being flattened against a wall or the ground, or some part of them bending separate from the rest - were actually impossible; the solid mass he was holding testified to that. Those actions must have been added into the show for more drama. "You gonna spend all day admirin' mah hoof, or are you gonna fit the 'shoe on?" "Oh, yes. Sorry." She twisted the hoof upside-down, after which he set the horseshoe upon it. "You sure the nails going in won't.." "Ah told you, it won't. Ah can't even feel the things. 'Course, the leg gets heavier once the 'shoe is on, but it don't hurt." "Alright then." He took a nail, set it into one of the holes in the horseshoe, and picked up a hammer. "Won't you look silly with holes in your hooves?" "Who looks at the bottom of a hoof?" she asked skeptically. "Ants. Pebbles. Rarity," he replied, and was rewarded by Applejack laughing. With that, he began hammering. It didn't take long before the nail - a short one - had gone where it was supposed to. As he continued working, Applejack kept talking. "We wear these all the time at rodeos an' other rough-tough events. It's part of our culture, it's traditional. It's also traditional to wear a bridle durin' a rodeo." "Isn't it uncomfortable?" "Heck no, they make 'em to order. You think we came all this way in time to mess up on facial gear?" she asked him, again giving him the same look. "I guess not. A few hundred years, and people usually get something like that right." "Yup." James checked his own handiwork. So far, the horseshoe seemed to fit quite well, and Applejack showed no signs of pain or distress of any sort. Seeing his face, she chuckled. "What did ah tell ya?" "Alright, you win that argument." He began work on the next one. "How well does Applebloom do at school?" "Her grades make us proud," the earth pony said, smiling. "They might stereowhatsify us farm ponies as slow, but the only thing slow 'bout us is our way of talkin' - maybe." "Good. And she's able to do that, even with..." He tried to think of a nasty word to use to describe Diamond Tiara, but he decided against it. "Even with bullies tormenting her," he said after a space of several seconds. Applejack frowned, but he could tell that her anger wasn't directed at him. "Diamond Tiara an' Silver Spoon r' all up and proud that they got their cutie marks when they did. An' Diamond Tiara's father is, quite literally, Filthy Rich. Oh, he ain't one o' them nobles from Canterlot or anythin' like that, but he get's his kicks from havin' a lot of money. Ah bet Diamond took after him." "Then why..." "Do ah sell mah products to him, like our Zap Apple Jam?" she finished. "He ain't that bad, just needs a good reminder of what's what. An' his money is just as good as Rarity's or the pony down the street, or even that of the Princesses, if any o' 'em came down here." "Alright, that one's done, give me another." "Okay." Before long, James was able to evaluate his own handiwork. Each of the four horseshoes had been chiseled to have edges aimed downward, but then, they were supposed to, in order to help Applejack grip the ground better; in essence, the horseshoes now fitted to her hooves had cleats. "Well, mah legs are a mite heavy, but ah reckon this'll do," the earth pony mare said, lifting her legs to test them out. "Just be careful; you don't want to scratch anyone with those." "Ah won't sugarcube. You just worry 'bout gettin' Big Mac ready; ah got some apple trees to buck." "I will." As she walked out, her brother walked up. "You ready?" "Eeyup." James picked up another horseshoe - a much bigger one, and also with the same jagged, downward edges - and began working. "Hope this war doesn't last much longer, he murmured as he hammered. "It feels like I take a bite out myself every time I have to swing a sword or fire a weapon." "Eeyup," the big stallion repeated, much more mournfully this time. James continued working. All the while, whatever part of his mind wasn't needed to focus on the job was worrying whether he had made all the right choices in the war. Whether it would have been possible to win at Sugar Cane River, or perhaps at Trottingham. Maybe if I had been more aggressive in the campaign, maybe if I hadn't been so stupid as to think that the war was almost over... maybe we could have won by now and everybody could go home. His hand shook a little as he picked up a nail. I should have relieved Blueblood when I heard he hadn't listened to me, he thought viciously. Because I didn't, we lost a battle that could have broken the enemy once and for all. Not only that, but we lost thousands of soldiers who could have lived if I had done so. I might have brought a backlash of some kind; knowing the Prince, it would. But it would have been better to be in bad straits with the Princesses than to leave the bastard where he was. He must have given something away, as Big Mac looked into his face with genuine concern. "Y'all right?" James almost said yes out of habit. But he knew Big Mac would see through the lie, and besides, he didn't feel like lying. "No, I am not," he said, a few seconds after he should have. "What's wrong?" "I made a lot of stupid decisions that got soldiers killed, that's what's wrong. I should have fired the Prince at Sugar Cane when he ignored me. I should have never presumed the war was going to be over so soon. I didn't do everything right at the Siege of Trottingham; maybe if I had been more aggressive in it's defense, we might have avoided a disaster like Fort Nightshade and have actually held the place." James inhaled, out of breath; he hadn't realized how angry he'd been with himself until now. Big Mac's face softened. "Yer mad at yerself." It wasn't a question. James' silence told the stallion all he needed to know on that score. He lifted his right front hoof, which hadn't been shod yet, and placed on James' left shoulder. "Ya made mistakes. Everypony makes mistakes. But ya gotta learn..." "Don't tell me I need to let go," James said angrily, "this isn't a game; soldiers died because of my mistakes. How am I supposed to 'let go' without dishonoring their memory? Without being disdainful of the sacrifice they made?" He set down the hammer and buried his face in his hands. Big Mac's expression didn't change. His hoof remained on James' shoulder. "Not sayin' to forget 'em," he said, "just sayin' to let them feelin's go. If ya don't, they'll haunt ya fer the rest o' yer life. Remember the soldiers who died, but don't let yer mistakes torment ya." James looked up. The stallion was smiling sympathetically at him. "I should have done something... I should have arrested him..." "You did that, you'd be in jail, an' that's the last place we need you." James reached up and hugged the big pony around the neck. Big Mac hugged him back, though not with the hoof that had been shod. "Thanks, big guy," James said quietly. "Anytime." James went back to work, some of worries dissolved, at least for now. We're soldiers; we look out for each other, even when we're not in the field. And that sets us apart from the rest of the crowd. --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- "Ya ready?" Big Mac asked James. He'd been hooked up to the plow, and James was going to push from behind. "Whenever you are," the human replied. Big Macintosh began pulling; to James' surprise, the plow went forward, faster than he'd expected. The handlebars pulled him forward, and he lost his balance, falling down into the mud. Splat! "Hmm?" Big Mac stopped and looked back. He immediately had to lift a hoof in front of his face to try to hide the fact that he was struggling to hold back laughter. "Okay," James said, getting up and trying - unsuccessfully - to brush the mud off, "take two." He got back into position, and this time, he was ready. The plow went forward, James pushing and Big Mac pulling. The ground was wet, and occasionally, James would lose traction and start to fall. Each time, Big Mac would patiently stop and wait until he had gotten back to his feet before continuing. To pass the time, he asked, "What kind of crops do you grow here?" "Oh, we grow celery, beans, corn, all kinds o' things." "I'm guessing that your apple trees are the pride and joy of this farm, though." "Eeyup," Big Mac said, pride in his voice. "As fer animals, we raise cows, sheep, and pigs." "I can't imagine they like being herded, though." "Sometimes, ya gotta be tough," Big Mac said, continuing to pull. "Sheep have half a mind ta wander off if ya don't keep on 'em. An' cows... well, they're content ta just be, is all. They don't make trouble." "I suppose I can concur," James said. The whole process took longer than James had expected. He didn't feel tired, not yet, but he was sweating, even though clouds would block out the sun quite often. It seemed like forever until lunchtime, but by then much of the field was finished. It had taken longer than it would have without the mud and the wet, but at least it was going well. "Alright, fella," Big Mac said as they heard a bell from the farmhouse. "Time ta eat." "Boy, am I starving," James agreed. James carefully unhitched the big stallion. "I hope we can put a stop to this war soon," he said. "It can't be easy knowing you've got to go back there; I know you love farming a lot more." Big Mac looked down. "Eeyup," he said at last. James patted him sympathetically. They went back to the house together. Applejack was already waiting for them there. "These horseshoes have been workin' like a charm," she said, grinning as they arrived. "The work's still goin' slower than ah'd like, but at least it's gettin' done. How's the plowin' comin along?" she asked. "Half the field's done, AJ," Big Mac replied, "an' the rest should be done 'round three, four o' clock." "Oh, good. That'll give James plenty o' time ta help me." "How am I supposed to do that?" James asked. "I thought we went through this yesterday." "We did, an ah'm not askin' ya to buck trees. Ah'm asking ya to pick 'em off." James looked at her in mild surprise. "Won't that make the harvest slower?" "Yep, but maybe folks will pay a bit more fer apples that don't get dented when they hit the ground." "I guess we can try that," he said thoughtfully. He sat down and began drinking a bottle of water. I'd still prefer my idea of a cushy job at a museum, spreading knowledge of history, he thought as he took a big chug. But at least I'm helping to accomplish something either way. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- "Come on, fella, it's only one more run." Sez you, James thought, panting. Big Mac still seemed full of energy, while he had lost most of his own energy a while ago. Say what one would, plowing wasn't the easiest job ever. By now, the sun well past it's zenith, and was on it's way toward the horizon. The final furlough didn't take very long, but he was still tired when it was done. After unhitching the stallion from the plow, he lay with his back up against it, resting. "Gonna go help mah sister with the harvest," Big Macintosh said, stretching a little. "See ya there soon!" "See ya," James aid, still a little out of breath. After a few minutes - and a swig from a canteen he carried with him - he got up and began walking toward the apple orchard. By now, most of the mud had dried up, though there were a few slippery areas. When he reached them, the two farm ponies were busy bucking trees; apples seemed to be falling everywhere. "Hey, James!" Applejack said in greeting. "How 'bout you starting picking from those trees over yonder?" she said, pointing with her tail. When he nodded, she said, 'Great! Here's a couple baskets to get ya started." James took them, headed over to the trees Applejack had indicated, and looked them over. They were a lot taller than he was, and most of their delicious produce was beyond his immediate reach. Damn. How am I supposed to reach them? By climbing the blasted thing? His mind immediately came up with an image of himself attempting to do just that, and falling to the ground... painfully. He rejected the idea; heights had never been his forte. There's got to be something I can use, he thought as he looked around. A fallen branch not far away caught his eye. Maybe... He walked over to it. After examining it, he smiled. It was just what he'd hoped for - a natural apple picker. A few twigs and sub-branches on one end made it ideal for the job. He got to work. It wasn't a particularly fun job, but it was certainly an easy one. He picked one red fruit after another out of the tree. it was slow going, especially when he glanced over to see Applejack and Big Mac knocking dozens of apples of out a tree in a single kick. Are you saying you'd rather be a pony? part of his mind teased. No, of course not! he shot back. I'm human, and that's the way I like myself. And for them to be ponies and remain ponies is what both they and I would much prefer. He remembered Applejack saying precisely that sometime before he began training the army. James was a little more vigorous as he moved to the next tree. He ended up filling the first basket before he knew it, and moved on to the second one. The hours passed, and the sun sank slowly on the horizon. By then, he'd managed to fill several baskets, though the number Applejack and Big Mac both harvested was enormous. Well, there were two of them and only one of me, he thought in an effort to comfort himself as he loaded the last basket onto a wagon for Big Mac to haul away. "Take 'er away, Big Mac!" Applejack called. "Eeyup." The big stallion began to pull the wagon back toward the barn. James sat down under a tree to rest, and drink the last of the water in his canteen. "Whoo-wee!" Applejack said as she wiped her forehead. "All in a day's work." James made a noise like the whistle of a steam locomotive - a tired steam locomotive. Applejack chuckled. "Ah hear ya." She stood there as he emptied the last of the water in his canteen. "Ya did good. And thanks fer helpin' us with these," she said, indicating the horseshoes she was still wearing. "You came up with the idea." "Well, yeah, but you put 'em on. Give it 'nough time, ya might make a good farrier." James put the cap back on his canteen and yawned, looking up at the darkening sky. "Would ya like a ride back to the barn?" the orange pony asked "What?" "Hop on!" she said, standing very still. James looked at her suspiciously. "You're not going to try and buck me off like last time, are you?" Applejack laughed. "'Course not, sugarcube. No competition this time, just a quiet walk back home." "Alright," he said, getting up. She stood still as he tossed his right leg over her back and sat down. "I hope I'm not too heavy for you." "Nah, ah've pulled an' carried loads heavier than you," she said as she started walking. "Matter o' fact, ah think you weigh less than last time." "Hard to be full when the only thing to eat is grass, which humans can't digest." "Well, that would be a problem," she admitted. "Sounds like you had a rough time in the army." "Only during the retreat from Sugar Cane River and the Siege of Trottingham," he said. "There wasn't much else to eat, and even then, it was ridiculous trying to feed both the army and the civilian population." The next few minutes went by in complete silence, with the only sound audible being the clip-clop of Applejack's hooves. "What about yer family?" she asked at last. She turned her head to lay an eye on him; ponies could see in a greater radius around them than humans could. James was delighted that she had chosen a topic apart from the war. At the same time, the question caused him to feel a stab of longing in his heart. "You okay?" she asked after a few seconds had passed without a reply. "Oh, um, yes, I'm fine," he said in a tone that he was sure fooled no one. "Ya wanna rephrase that?" Applejack asked him in a serious tone, turning around to look at him again. "Ya know ah can sniff out lies, right?" James sighed. "I just miss my family." "Oh," she said, her frown disappearing. "Sorry." She turned to watch where she was going. "No, it's fine." James looked up into the sky as the first stars began to pierce the gloom. "We can talk 'bout somethin' else, if yer that uncomfortable." "No, no." He sighed as the rhythm of her walk - so much like the horses he'd ridden before - threatened to rock him to sleep. He shook off the weariness as best as he could. "First off, there's my dad. He works as a builder, so getting some time in with him isn't easy. There always seems to be some emergency, like another engineer called in sick or got hurt, and after he gets the call, he's gone. Still," he added, looking up, "the times we have together are some of the best times of my life. I only wish we had more time to spend with one another." "What about yer ma?" "Mom's a clerk at a local super market. Her job can be stressful. But she loves us all to death, and I couldn't ask for a better mother." "You got any siblin's?" "Oh, yes," he said, not sure whether to frown or laugh. "My older brother works in an automotive repair shop; he's always on me about how I should work out more, calling me skinny, but to be honest it's all just good natured-ribbing. And I have him to thank when a snake bit me; if it wasn't for him and his quick action, I'd be dead." "Yikes," she said, cringing a little. "Sounds like that was close." "It was. Poison almost killed me. My leg was swollen for quite a while." "Didn't ya say ya had a new baby in the family when we had that first dinner together?" "Yeah, I did." James had to work for a moment to picture him. "He was only a couple weeks old when Celestia summoned me here. All that I can remember was that he was pretty quiet for a baby." "You think there might o' bin somethin' wrong with 'im?" "No, no, no," James aid in a hurry. "There wasn't anything wrong with him. At least, there wasn't when I left," he said, a little worriedly. What impact had his disappearance had on the family? Was his mom still able to care for the child when the she was wracked by his departure? "You okay back there?" Applejack asked, sounding worried herself. James shook himself. He'd said nothing for the past fifteen seconds or so, completely out of it with worry. "I'm..." he stopped as he remembered the last time he'd tried that line. "Just worried about how my family is taking my absence. They must be worried sick, and I'm wondering if that's-" "Had any effect on how they're able ta raise the baby?" she finished for him. "Well, yes," he said. "Don't quite know what ta say ta that, 'cept ya gotta hope fer the best." "I suppose so." They carried on in silence again for a few minutes. "What about your family?" James asked all at once. "I haven't seen your parents around." He felt her give a massive twitch, and she stopped walking. Her heard her give a little sob. "Oh... I'm so sorry, Applejack..." "Don't be," she said, raising a hoof to clear her eye. "Wasn't yer fault." James decided never to mention the subject again. After about a minute, he said, "From what I've heard, Granny Smith had a big part in how the town turned out," he said, trying to draw her out of her misery. It seemed to work. "Oh, you betcha," she said, beginning to walk again and with a bit of spring and pride in her voice, though a note of sadness still lingered. "It was she who found the Zap Apple trees, an' brought some o' the seeds back fer the first orchards here. But you probably knew that already." "It's worth noting the details, considering history is one of my main interests. But the sales from that can't get you through more than a few months, as the Zap Apples disappear if you don't get them all, and considering they only come once a year..." "You'd be surprised at how much ponies would pay fer some Zap Apple Jam," she replied. "The rest of our crops get us through the rest o' the year. Ah assume Big Mac told you what else we grow here? Besides apples, 'course." "Yeah, he did." He felt his revolver slap against his side as she navigated over a pothole. "Any reason ya carried that thing around all day?" the farm pony inquired, glancing over her right shoulder this time to look at the gun. "I brought it for protection." "Ya think we can't handle any varmint that comes our way?" Applejack gave him an a questioning - and challenging - look. "You never know when you'll need extra firepower. As timberwolves hunt in packs, your hooves wouldn't be enough. And it's never a good idea to force a soldier to give up his weapons. I used this to save your sister from timberwolves, I might add." "Ah know, and ah'm mighty grateful to ya fer that. But still, it's dangerous to carry around all day." "Better than risking being torn to shreds by wooden monsters." "They usually don't come this far outta the Everfree. But can ya at least take it off when we get inside? Wouldn't want it go off in the house." "I can do that," he said, nodding as he saw the farmhouse looming. "Here's where ya get off, sugarcube," Applejack told him. As he dismounted, she said, "You might do well enough for a rodeo yerself one o' these days." "Once was enough. Twice was too much." James stretched as she chuckled. "I hope dinner's good." "It will be, ah promise. Ya got one little detail to take care off, though, before that happens." "And what might that be?" Applejack motioned to the horseshoes on her hooves. "Ya gotta take these off me an' Big Mac before we can fix up anything." -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Fortunately, it didn't take long before James was able to pull the nails out of Applejack's and Big Mac's hooves, and both of them stretched a little. "Ah, that's better," Applejack said, moving her front legs around. "Ah like wearing these fer rodeos an' all, but farm work is a mite difficult with this kind o' horseshoes." "You won't be wearing these particular pairs to a rodeo," James noted. "They'd be a safety hazard with the edges we made." "Well, they'll be mighty useful if we get more mud," she replied. "Still, the ground's dry enough ta do things the usual way tomorrow, and ah know fer a fact they don't have any more downpours comin' anytime soon." Grrrrrroowwwwwwllllll By now, James' belly was angrily protesting the lack of food inside it. "If I can make a suggestion," he said, another growl from his stomach underlining his words, "can we...?" "Ah, yes. Don't worry, James, we'll have that lil' critter full before ya can say 'lickety split.'" "Lickety split," he repeated. "I'm still hungry." Applejack and Big Mac almost split themselves from laughter. Applejack hammered the ground with her hoof repeatedly as she laughed, and her brother almost dropped the piece of hay he habitually chewed on. "W-w-well, we'll go take care of that right now," the orange farm pony finally managed to get out. After a short walk from the barn to the house, the two ponies and singular human came in. James sat down at the table, taking a minute to warm up; it had started to get cold outside, and he was grateful that he was inside. "Supper'll be a little while," Applejack declared from the kitchen. "Y'all will have to wait a lil' while, ah'm still a mite tired from work an' all." "Fine by me," James said, getting up to go fetch a book to read. He retrieved Guns of the South from his room and went back downstairs, sitting on a couch and opening the book. Ah, Chapter sixteen. He read up to the part where Lee, now President of the Confederacy, was taking fire from assassins at his inauguration before he became aware of a presence nearby. Looking up from his book, he came face to face with Applebloom, who was staring at him with a big smile on her face. "Hi, James!" "Good evening, Applebloom," he answered, smiling as he patted her on the head. "How was school today?" "It was great!" she said, lifting a hoof in the air for emphasis. "Ah got full marks fer a history test, an we played dodgeball in recess; ah got Diamond Tiara out four times!" She paused, as if savoring the victory. "Didn't even get hit once! Then we went on a field trip to the local crayon workshop. It was so interestin' watchin' them crayons bein' made." James found himself remembering a scene from a certain show* back in his youth and smiled, this time a little mournfully. Applebloom didn't notice. "After comin' back home, ah went out with Sweetie an' Scootaloo ta find our cutie marks." Her enthusiasm waned suddenly. "Uhhhhhhhhhhh... it didn't go that well." "What happened?" James asked, although his was not the only voice to ask the question; Big Mac had walked into the room and had been listening for the past couple of seconds. "We tried makin' a fort outta some wood we found. We didn't know it belonged ta Mr. Breezy; boy was he mad," she said, sitting down and raising her forehooves in the air in imitation of the angry pony in question. "Had ta return all the wood, and he made us swear not ta come 'round his place fer a week." "Wow, tough break," James said sympathetically, sharing a knowing glance with Big Mac. "Anything else happen since then?" "Yeah, we thought about climbin' the tallest tree in Ponyville. Woulda done it if Scoots coulda flown on her own wingpower." "Uh, Applebloom," James said worriedly, "you know that getting your cutie mark does not mean kill yourself trying, right?" "Well, ta be honest," she said, her cheeks turning a little red with embarrassment, "ah wasn't so eager ta climb the tree anyways. It was Sweetie's idea, but ah talked her out of it, usin' Scoots' wings as mah excuse." James didn't even want to imagine the whole scene, but his mind thought of what might have happened if they had failed. He shivered. Being almost allergic to high places himself, he wasn't eager for others to risk themselves in that way... especially not children. "Later, we tried fer a job at the ice cream shop, but..." Here the yellow filly looked a little guilty. "Ah guess we used too much ice cream." "Erm... How much is 'too much'?" James asked. "Lets just say we had a job after that all right - a job cleanin' ice cream from the floor, walls, an' ceilin'." James imagined some sort of explosion that left globs of while, brown, and pink all over the ice cream shop. It was all be could do to hold in the laughter that was trying to burst from his lips. He coughed, rather loudly and more energetically than he would have otherwise, to keep that from happening. As he thought about it, these attempts by the CMC to earn their cutie marks were a bit weak and half-hearted, and he remembered what Applejack had said the day before. Applebloom did seem to have lost a lot of the courage she'd had before. He remembered various episodes wherein the threesome had conducted much more vigorous efforts to earn their cutie marks, and these attempts didn't have the spark or the energy that the others did. "Did you all wrack your brains coming up with all this?" he asked. "Well... no." Applebloom lowered her head, looking sorrowful. "Ah didn't, anyways." "An' why not?" Big Macintosh asked gently, lowering his head and nuzzling her. "Because ah'm scared!" Applebloom burst out. "Ya don't know how it feels, ta have nightmares about them timberwolves comin' ta eat me! Ever since that day, ah've been scared that ah'll get hurt if ah try lookin' fer mah cutie mark too hard!" James saw tears form in her eyes. It was too much. He felt like crying right along with her. Instead, he got off the couch and, along with Big Mac, hugged her. A moment later, Applejack joined in; she must have heard her sister from the kitchen. "Aw, sugarcube," Applejack said quietly to Applebloom, "why didn'tcha tell us how you were feelin'?" "'Cause... because..." Applebloom sobbed quietly. "Ya got me, Big Macintosh, Granny Smith... Winona," Applejack added as the family dog showed up and licked the yellow filly on the cheek. "And ya got lots of friends ta get you through all this." Applebloom looked up, wiping some of the tears out of her eyes. "Not to mention that I have a friend in Canterlot who might be able to help you with the whole nightmare problem," James stated. "Really?" "Yes. She's... first class when it comes to dealing with them. I'll mail her a letter, and maybe she'll... find a solution." James wondered how Luna was going to take his request, but he decided that was a worry for later. "Ah guess that's better then just dealin' with 'em on mah own." "An' dearie," came an elderly voice, "ah know more n' a little about them timberwolves and whatnot from the Everfree forest." "Enough ta protect me, Granny?" "Yup." The old green mare smiled at Applebloom, who at last stopped crying altogether. "Come on," Applejack said kindly, "maybe dinner'll make ya feel better." "Well, okay," Applebloom said, smiling a little. James sent up a silent prayer as the others left the room. Then, his stomach growling at him to get a move on, he got up to eat. We all have fears that we must conquer, he told himself, remembering, for a moment, that time not all that long ago when he had battled the timberwolf pack and how afraid he had been then. With God's help, we can succeed against the darkness that tries to consume us with fear and evil. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Note; R.I.P. Mr. Rogers. :,( To fans of my Robotech story, I apologize. Erratic internet connections make it hard to synchronize use of the story tools on this website and watching the show (simultaneously) to make sure I have all the dialogue right. Hopefully, this chapter wasn't so bad.