It was easy picking Braeburn out from a crowd. Rarity watched him from across the room, an unmoving island of gold sand in a sea of swirling, brightly-colored bodies.
Hats of every conceivable size and shape hopped and skipped along with their wearers like ships riding turbulent waves in the space between them. Rarity couldn’t even begin to imagine where half of those styles got started. She barely even knew how to insert herself into the wild menagerie of dance styles and ponies that swirled before her like a kaleidoscope, and coughed at the dust being kicked up. At least Sweetie Belle was having a grand old time, mixing it up with little Babs Seed and Apple Bloom. Somehow Scootaloo had snuck into the mix as well, and Rarity was surprised the barn hadn’t burnt to the ground yet.
She knew coming to one of Applejack’s famous family reunions was going to be a trial in and of itself, even if Applejack had promised her it would be a real ‘hoot an’ a holler.’ It was, she deduced, one of Applejack’s clumsy attempts to help them grow closer as friends, to share sacred and deep things like traditions and families. And as Applejack would say, ‘consarn it,’ Rarity couldn’t help but be bafflingly flattered.
And so she had come, her mind full of fleeting possibilities for all that could go wrong: she would get her mane ruined by cider, she would get her hooves trampled by rough-housing colts, she would find herself on the wrong end of an eating contest.
So far, every last one had come true. At least she had proven even a lady could pack away pies with the best of them, and the look on Applejack’s face had been priceless when Rarity walked away with third place out of twenty.
Not being possessed of Applejack’s legendary endurance, she had retired to the role of wallflower as the party swung on well into the evening, and the barn dance began in earnest. She stayed away from the high-spirited dancers and the way they needed to shout or kick or jump or grin until they burst. The old stereotype of the southern belle couldn’t be less true with even the most demure of Apples. They were, to a tee, the rowdiest and roughest group of ponies she’d ever spent time with. This was not a Mild West dance by any means.
And so, in the middle of all that mess, she’d spotted the one pony who wasn’t moving like all the rest.
She didn’t know why, but she hadn’t really thought of Braeburn until now, in spite of how great an impression he’d left during their first meeting. Of all the ponies in Appleloosa, she remembered, he had been the only one willing to go forward and take up the burden of speaking to an unknown, unfriendly force. The only one willing to make a compromise. The only one willing to try and get all of them to smile. Pinkie, bless her, had tried, but Braeburn had been an unflappable gentlecolt during the whole affair. He still was, in fact; she remembered the graceful bow he gave her when they met at the front gate. She’d felt a warm little blush when the party pulled them apart all too soon, and he’d run off to work his magic on some other pony. Every time she’d seen him afterward he was buzzing back and forth like a hummingbird, propping up any part of the party that was lagging. He jumped between groups of ponies as easily as Pinkie Pie, always with a laugh and a smile or a comforting hoof. She wouldn’t be surprised if he became mayor of Appleloosa one day with a gracious attitude like his...
Why wasn’t he dancing?
Like any pony who wanted to be part of the upper crust, she was an unstoppable consumer of gossip. And like any good gossip she had an insatiable desire to be ‘in the know.’ She didn’t know Braeburn, didn’t know why he wasn’t dancing, but there was just a certain something about him that made him so easy to find. Even from here, it was obvious. It wasn’t just because he was handsome—and he was handsome by anypony’s definition of the word—but also how still and steady he appeared after watching him bound around with as much energy as her own little sister. Was it because he was upset? Had he hurt himself? Was there some epic family feud happening right before her eyes, with Braeburn at its epicenter?
It was settled, then. Her curiosity was piqued by the happy-go-lucky stallion who was so reserved at the party’s apex. If she didn’t talk to him now, she’d never forgive herself. Besides, he looked depressingly lonely.
Oh, don’t flatter yourself, Rarity, she thought, silencing her irrepressible inner romantic. It’s not as if you’re about to swoop in and rescue him from a night of melancholic depression.
She waited until the dance died down. The Apples and honored guests fell back into milling clumps, reorganizing dance partners, tired ponies trading places with those who had been waiting eagerly on the sidelines. Her hooves carried her through the tumult with all the grace and serenity of the greatest ballroom waltz, her tail flicking back and forth with the tiniest movements to avoid brushing a pony by accident. She prided herself on not bumping a single other partygoer, sharing a tired grin with Applejack as the farmpony prepared to take another spin with yet another Second Cousin from Far Away Town.
But her eyes stayed on Braeburn, and with her practiced charisma, she knew he would feel her eyes on him sooner or later. It started with an almost imperceptible twitch, and then he blinked and glanced about as if something just flashed across his eyes. He turned and looked directly at her, drawn as to a beacon, and though many ponies crossed their vision, he was still staring straight back when she came back into view. She saw the way his eyes widened ever so slightly, the way he straightened his neck and tipped back his hat. It ignited an oft-struck side of her that loved to be noticed. To be gazed upon. And by one who was so enjoyable to gaze upon in return...
Perhaps it was the cider she’d drunk that night, but she let a slow smile cross her lips, and put just a bit more sashay into her hips than was necessary, making her tail bob back and forth. When he shifted weight between his hooves, uncertain what to do, she knew she had him.
And then he smiled, probably because it was the only thing he knew to do.
“Mister Braeburn,” she said, coyly turning her head to one side, raising her voice as the music began to pick up again and the stomping of hundreds of hooves threatened to drown her out. “I’m curious.”
“Oh, uh, y’are?” Braeburn asked, clearly confused as he glanced back and forth. “An’ what about, Miss Rarity? I—I’m not the brightest bulb in the shed, but I’ll do my best to help!”
Rarity almost tittered at the breathless stutter in the young stallion’s voice. It was the voice of those who knew they stood in the presence of a mare they found both beautiful and intimidating, and it never stopped being adorable.
“I’m curious as to why such an agreeable young stallion as yourself is standing off in this corner looking quite put out and not joining his fellow Apples in their last boogaloo of the evening?”
Braeburn glanced up at the crowd again. Rarity followed his gaze, watching him closely. She saw his jaw tighten with a barely visible gulp, and he hesitated just a moment before he turned back to her. She worried, momentarily, that she’d stumbled upon something that was sincerely distressing to the stallion.
“Oh,” said Braeburn, scuffing his hoof on the ground, and a wavering grin graced his handsome features again. “You know, just feelin’ a little tuckered out is all from all the previous fun. Poor Granny Smith can’t host all the activities, now can she? An’ the others deserve it. Some’ve traveled even further’n me!”
He looked at Rarity from the corners of his eyes, and they widened again with the fear of anticipation. “W—were ya wantin’ to dance, miss Rarity? I’ll sure as sugar take ya for a spin; never one to turn down a lady!”
Rarity chuckled, lifting her hoof and waggling it at Braeburn. “Oh, Mister Braeburn, you are a gentlecolt, but I’m afraid my hooves are quite ‘tuckered’ as well. I rather ruined them when I participated in that sack race with Sweetie Belle. I could barely stand even after that little runabout!”
Braeburn’s grin turned full and sanguine, suppressing one of his well-known guffaws at the spectacle Rarity and the other racers had made of themselves. “Aw shoot, miss Rarity, I wouldn’t a’ thought it where I was standin’. You done put to shame quite a few Apples this year!”
“Yes, I suppose that I have proven my mettle today,” said Rarity, fluffing her mane as she drank in the compliment. She tried to ignore the fact that her mane was still sticky and smelled faintly of apples, no matter how many times Applejack had helped her dunk it in the water barrel. “But any pursuit of glory comes with a price. I don’t think I’ve ever been quite so fatigued and yet so... so fulfilled in all my life.”
They shared a quiet moment, staring at the ponies who whirled and whooped and hollered mere feet away. Yes, thought Rarity, this was indeed a very happy and very well-adjusted family. Social climbing and proper decorum be bucked, she knew the value of loving kin, and the Apples had that in spades. She watched as Sweetie Belle dangled between Applejack and Big Macintosh’s hooves, kicking her legs in the air. She watched ponies smiling, laughing, and throwing their worries out the barn door. A feeling of quiet euphoria settled over her, and it wasn’t until Braeburn made a quiet shuffling noise beside her that she realized she’d been neglecting a conversation she started.
“Oh!” she squeaked, turning back to Braeburn. “I’m terribly sorry.”
“Hmm? What for?” Braeburn’s smile was utterly innocent. Rarity realized he probably didn’t even notice she had stopped talking. She would have been offended if she didn’t remember he’d been weaving in and out of ephemeral, shoot-the-breeze conversations all afternoon.
Unable to think of a response off-hoof, she took the moment to look at him more closely than before. He looked right at her, as though in spite of all the talking he’d done today he was more than willing to set aside a few more minutes. To a pony like Rarity, time was a precious commodity that must always be maximized. Time was always wasting.
For Braeburn, it was something to sacrifice to make another pony happy. As a result he hadn’t had any to himself all day. He looked upon the party like a little slice of his own sovereign kingdom, ready and willing to give of himself for its welfare. Not even Applejack was as omnipresent as he had been this year. Never mind mayor of Appleloosa, a pony as self-sacrifical as that had a heart for so much more.
A pony like that could turn quite a few heads.
A pony like that could be a prince.
“Mister Braeburn,” she asked in a moment of sudden solemnity, “have you been enjoying yourself today?”
Braeburn’s ears shot up, standing like tall towers. Rarity continued to stare up at him, not quite pressing, but not giving any ground either. She gave him all the time he needed to comprehend just what she was asking. When he answered, he puffed out his cheeks, rubbed one leg with the other, and... smiled. Again.
“Why, sure miss Rarity! I’ve been havin’ a rip-snortin’ good time. All the family’s here, we got all day tomorrow to spend with each other all over again, I’ve made sure everypony had somethin’ to do an’ somepony to see, got to see everypony havin’ a good time, cousin AJ didn’t go plum crazy again—”
“Mister Braeburn.” Rarity smiled, truly touched by his selflessness this time, and she knew he could see it in the way she batted her eyelashes and how her voice became smooth while losing none of its volume. “I meant, have you been enjoying yourself today?”
Braeburn waggled his head back and forth, making his answer clear before he even spoke. “Well, I just... I enjoy myself quite a lot already. Today’s about the family, not me, miss Rarity. I hope I don’t sound downright conceited ‘r nothin’, but I always try to make other ponies happy before me. It’s what makes me happy.”
Rarity glanced back at the dance, handling itself just fine without him. She looked at all the smiling faces, aching with joy, with no danger of that joy fading any time soon. She looked back up at Braeburn, his eyes flicking between her and the dancing ponies, straining to see a spot where he was needed, where ponies would require him to sacrifice a bit more of himself for their own happiness. She saw how weary he was of standing and sitting and rising up again, how he swayed ever so slightly on his hooves just like she did when she was single-hoofedly holding together a party in Canterlot. He was like a male mirror-image of all the times she had been exhausted after a long day in the Boutique only to find there were another two dozen dresses to go, and only so much time to do them.
She looked outside, at the darkening horizon and the open space with not a soul in sight. She thought of the cool grass, the rest that the quiet wind would give her ears, the beauty of watching the stars appear one by one over a sleepy Ponyville. She thought of how much more of a pleasure it was to share that sight with somepony.
Time was wasting.
“Mister Braeburn,” she said, drawing and holding his attention with her voice and doey eyes as surely as she could with her magic, “I was wondering if you would be so kind as to accompany me for a walk around the farm?”
Braeburn gulped again. She saw the thoughts whirling behind his eyes, and was surprised that he wore his emotions on his sleeve. She was proficient at reading ponies, and Braeburn made it effortless. He was thinking, hesitating, wondering what would happen if he left, if there was some subtext underneath her innocent question, if he should decline purely on the grounds that it might be awkward.
And then he smiled, and the doubt left his eyes.
“I think I’d like that, Miss Rarity.”
--------------
“Mail call!” Ditzy Doo blared with her customary enthusiasm even though Rarity had already opened the door. She stared at the mailmare through the work glasses dangling on the edge of her nose, wobbling fretfully with every stressed breath she took.
“Thank you Miss Doo,” she said, watching Ditzy salute as she reached a wingtip into her bag to pluck out a letter, taking a deep breath of the fresh air that did not smell at all like fabric and five different kinds of wine and the thin scent of a mane that hadn’t been washed all day—“What is it this time? More correspondence from Canterlot? I certainly hope not, those ponies really need to learn patience. Fashion is fleeting, but true beauty is forever, I always say, and there’s nothing worse than a dress to be passed down for generations that was rushed at its inception—”
“Nnnnnope!” crowed Ditzy, sliding the letter out with teasing slowness and then whipping it out with a sharp snap of paper, holding it up between two primary feathers like the trump card in poker. “This one’s from Appleloosa!”
Rarity gaped. Before she could stop herself, her magic wrapped around the letter, holding it with more care than any needle, thread, or spool she had all morning. She closed the door in Ditzy’s face with a muttered thank you.
“You’re welcome!” came the muffled answer as Rarity rushed back up to her room, past Sweetie Belle, who calmly played tea time with some of her stuffed animals and a very irate Opalescence, kicked the door open and flung it shut again, then skidded to a halt in the dead center of the room just in front of her bed. Her work glasses had come off in the mad rush, but she didn’t care. She saw it all well enough: the gently yellowed paper, the stamp of an apple tree sloppily pasted into the corner, and the surprisingly prim and compact cursive on the front. There it was: Appleloosa County.
Somehow she didn’t feel the usual rush of excitement when she received a letter, especially from a handsome and agreeable stallion. The words penned with a terse, practical hoofstroke, seemed more weighty. The tilted stamp had an air of genuineness and personability that rarely came with any letter she normally received. Something... something was different about this letter.
It made her frown.
She held the letter well away from her with her magic, carrying it with all the gravitas of a declaration of war between two countries. She laid it down on her desk as she ruminated over the chain of events leading to this very moment, beginning right outside Applejack’s barn. She had never expected their little walk to go so well. She’d never expected Braeburn to voice his desire to speak with her again, and she certainly hadn’t expected him to give her his exact address so they could become pen pals. And of course she hadn’t expected her heart to give a little leap when she had sent off her first letter and gotten a reply barely two weeks later.
She had desired most of that, certainly, but she hadn’t expected them. There was a difference. A lady desired and dreamt many things, but she did not have great expectations. That came when she was CEO of her own fashion corporation.
Now that she thought about it, looking at the letter made her nervous. Scared, even. She hadn’t exactly told Applejack that she was going to be in correspondence with one of her favorite cousins. In fact, nopony had known about their little walk and talk through Sweet Apple Acres at all. She remembered it as if it were yesterday: the slow, gradual teasing out of the genuine Braeburn behind the constant self-deprecation and subject changes. It had been almost like a game, with Rarity picking away at the thick layers of sedimentary small talk Braeburn piled up around himself. She hadn’t learned much about him at all in spite of her playful prying, but that just made it all the more incredible that he had learned enough to want to write to her.
What did it mean?
Rarity bit her lower lip, wondering where all the possibilities of this innocuous piece of paper could lead. He could just be looking for a friendly ear. He could be reaching out with their heart laid bare. They could be starting a business partnership. So many things that it could—
Oh goodness, she stopped herself with a little hitch of breath. I’ve never had a proper pen pal before. I’m getting far too excited over it. It’s just a letter, Rarity. A friendly hello.
But it still felt a little strange, knowing that she could very well be sending letters with more pleasure in mind than business.
And she hadn’t told Applejack, who claimed to be in the know about everypony in her family.
So it felt just a little bit deliciously secretive.
Just a teeny tiny bit.
She grinned, biting her lower lip as she slipped a letter opener under the envelope flap and sliced it open. She slid the letter out, noting how delicately it had been folded and slipped inside to fit ever so snugly within the envelope’s confines. Great care had been taken with it. She peeled back the folds and laid it out flat on her desk, letting her eyes fly over the words.
As she read, she sighed, and began to read faster.
And then she slowed down.
She backed up and read a few paragraphs again, and again, and again.
She touched a hoof to her chest and breathed in sharply.
She set the letter aside and pulled out a sheet of her own. After a moment’s consideration, she pulled a quill from her writing drawer, dipped it into a nearby inkwell, and began to write.
---------------------
The sound of Applejack’s hooves striking wood seemed especially loud today. Rarity’s ears twitched backwards with the sound of every crack, the trees bending back to the point where one fretted they would simply snap in half. But nature had endowed the trees with unnatural elasticity, and Applejack had years of honed skill. Rarity watched the apples tumble down into the baskets beneath the boughs with as much precision as any unicorn’s magical field. No wonder Applejack was so insistent that a unicorn’s horn wasn’t needed on Sweet Apple Acres’ fields.
Still, she had to at least say something.
“You know, I could be of some assistance.”
Applejack gave her a sideways smirk, bending back in preparation for another blow.
“Sorry Rarity, but I think we both know—hah!” She slammed her hooves into the apple tree. Rarity stood back to avoid the drizzle of sweat as Applejack’s mane swung behind her. “— we both know you’re just sayin’ that bein’ the Element of Generosity an’ everything.”
Rarity scoffed. “My dear Applejack, we both know that I can hold my own in physical labor! Doing my best to avoid something does not mean I am incapable of doing it!”
Applejack snorted, moving on to the next tree. “Still. I think we got this covered, Rare. But thank ya kindly for the offer. ‘Preciate it.” Another loud whack, echoing over the Acres. Rarity could hear it when she listened close on a quiet day. It had become like the rising of the sun: comforting in its absolute, unchanging consistency.
“So what’d ya really come here ta’ talk about?” said Applejack with a cagey grin as she hauled the baskets to the next tree over.
“Hmm?” said Rarity, feigning innocence.
“Oh, come on, Rares. Ya hardly ever come over, it’s even more rare ta’ see you in the fields, an’ you absolutely never come over iffen it ain’t for sharin’ some kinda town gossip.”
Rarity flipped her mane primly, stuck her nose in the air, and assumed a condescending posture. “Why, Applejack! To accuse a lady like me of never having anything of substance to discuss apart from the goings-on of our peers. I’m almost offended!” She looked away, then glanced back at Applejack out of the corner of her eyes and flashed an impish smirk of her own. “If only it weren’t so true.”
The two shared a good-natured chuckle before Applejack prodded her with a hoof. “So, come on. Give.”
Rarity wiped away the miniscule bit of dirt that Applejack’s hoof gave her with her hoofkerchief. She sighed, wondering how best to broach this.
Come now, Rarity, it’s been two months of back and forth and you’re no closer now than you were then. Applejack is the best pony to ask. What better pony than the Element of Honesty and a close relative? But...
“My dear Applejack, do you remember the family reunion I attended several weeks back?”
“Sure as shootin’! That was a real humdinger, weren’t it? Me’n the folks still laugh at the stories we tell about it!”
“Yes, I…” Rarity licked her lips, making sure to hide her uncertainty behind Applejack’s back when she turned to buck the next tree. “I was wondering if you could give me some advice, Applejack. About family.”
Applejack smirked. “Oh, yeah? Well, I’m flattered you came ta’ me, Rares. Lay it on me, girl, you know we can talk about anything.”
Whack. Rarity gulped at the power in the blow, and how the tree vibrated for several seconds after it was struck.
“I have a family member of my own who is… difficult to talk to.” She licked her lips, remembering the contents of Braeburn’s last letter. It had been almost vapid. Routine. Downright terse. It was almost as if he had expected her to cease digging deeper into their budding friendship. At least, she liked to think it was a friendship. She had tried to figure out what exactly was being said in their sparse few letters, and already things had taken a turn for the worse. In all things, Braeburn seemed gregarious, friendly, and charming—he had been nothing short of pitch perfect in their friendly walk a month ago. In truth, she had never stopped digging. What was it he didn’t want to say in letters? Why was he so cordial when their first talk went so well?
“Mmm. Is it a Big Macintosh kinda hard, or a ‘I don’t wanna talk about it’ kinda hard?”
“Most assuredly the second kind.”
“Well, then. Best thing to do is give ‘em space, I find.”
Rarity sputtered. Space? They were dozens of miles apart! She wasn’t going to let this frail friendship fail just because they couldn’t see each other on a regular basis! “Well, I’m not sure, Applejack… what if they just quiet down and never tell you anything?”
“Far as I can tell, they’ve got a right to. It’s about trust, Rarity. Maybe they jus’ need to trust you more. Heck, I know Apple Bloom keeps secrets with her little friends she might never share with me—granted, I’m sure it’s mostly stuff like what boys they like or what crazy adventures they get up to when they’re crusadin’. I know she’s tryin’ to keep who really swiped the pie last week under the lid.”
“Applejack, we’re deviating.”
Applejack stopped bucking, going to the cider flask dangling from the barrel. She took a long sip and stood there awhile, staring off into the afternoon sun. At length, she let out a chuff, as if amused at something she’d just thought of. She spoke, but did not look back at Rarity. “Sure ‘nough. Well Rares, you gotta just trust me on this one. I may hold Honesty near an’ dear to my heart, but Honesty… it’s got a lotta different angles, you know? There’s knowin’ what you should tell, an’ knowin’ what you wanna keep under your hat, so to speak. Honesty’s not all about tellin’ all. It’s about trust, Rarity. Secrets an’ honesty an’ trust are all intertwined, sure as the sun and the seasons. I know what makes a pony say somethin’. I understand what keeps ‘em from doin’ it too. A pony’s gonna be a pony, and ponies keep secrets. You know that more’n any of us, I suspect, bein’ so dead-set on findin’ those secrets.”
Rarity bit her lip, having the grace to look abashed. Her gaze turned to her hooves, scuffing the grass lightly and distracting herself with its springiness. All her previous thoughts came rushing back, now thrown into sharp relief. The clarity was sharp enough to hurt. Why this, why that, what could he be hiding…
“Do you… do you really think maybe I just push too hard sometimes?”
Applejack finally turned to Rarity and gave her a little smile.
“Maybe sometimes,” she said with a gentle, sweaty pat on Rarity’s shoulder. “But sugarcube, you wouldn’t be you otherwise. A pony’s gonna keep their secrets… but jus’ sometimes, maybe they need somepony like you to come along an’ push a little too hard.”
Rarity’s gaze drifted to the side. Finding nothing to land on, it wavered between the trees and the distant red of the barn.
“I’m not so sure, Applejack,” she said, her voice delicate. “How can I be sure?”
Applejack’s eyes were kind. She rubbed her hoof over the top of Rarity’s leg, and gave her a smile that seemed strangely sad.
“You really can’t, sugarcube,” she murmured. “You can’t. Not ‘till you try, you know? You make all the preparations you can, tell yourself you’re ready, then get out there an’ break yer back an’ put your soul on the line. An’ the rest… well, to tell you the honest truth, what’s left is just up to dumb luck.”
Rarity shivered in spite of the summer heat. It carried down into her body, chilling her at a level she hadn’t thought possible. What kind of fear was this, that crawled up her spine and made her feel totally off balance? What was on the horizon that made her feel even more fretful than the days their enemies lined up to destroy them?
Then she realized it: she felt more alone now than she ever had before. This was something she truly had to do herself.
To ward off the cold, she stepped forward and pressed her face into Applejack’s warm, strong neck. She felt Applejack hesitate just a moment, and then a strong hoof wrapped around her shoulders.
“Thank you,” whispered Rarity. “Thank you, Applejack. You’re such a good pony.”
“Aw, shucks,” Applejack muttered uncomfortably. “Go find a couch ta’ faint on if you’re gonna get all mushy.”
Rarity laughed all the way home hearing that.
-------------------
She stayed up late that night, much less amused and much more frightened. She had sent Sweetie Belle to bed early, after much fuss and promising that she would get to help make breakfast in the morning—a disaster she’d deal with later. But as for what she had spoken about with Applejack, she found herself even more alone and afraid than before. Lying down on her bed, her many creative projects completely abandoned, she was alone with her thoughts. There was nothing to direct them at. Nothing to focus on. None of what she was feeling related to anything here.
What she felt was the lack of certain somethings. Things she couldn’t place her hooves on and mould or create, things beyond her control.
She rolled onto her stomach, burying her face in the pillow. This wasn’t really like her. She’d experienced emotional breakdowns before, but those had been purely for her own benefit. She was an extroverted pony and being as… well, as dramatic as she was helped her process her emotions and work through them as quickly as possible. She didn’t just feel things; she experienced them in all their pains and pleasures, and it kept her mind balanced.
This was different. This was a lingering, cold kind of feeling that kept her from doing anything about it. She didn’t want to feel it at all.
This all started because of those frivolous letters.
She got up and wandered to her desk, opening the drawer and taking them out. There were just three from Braeburn so far; he’d promised to write again as time permitted. It was harvest season after all, he’d said.
As time permitted. As if she could be cast off so flippantly!
But why did it bother her so much?
What was it that made this different?
Why did she need to know why?
She could just pass this off as a mildly irritating—even downright offensive—case of a pony just not interested in being her friend. She had plenty already. She supposed he did too; in fact they’d spoken of them at length during their little walk. It already felt so distant and timeless, like a fable instead of a memory. She really thought they’d connected that night. Maybe he wasn’t as genuine as he first appeared?
No, that couldn’t be it. Applejack had never spoken of him in anything less than glowing terms. She had seen him. Spoken to him. Read his eyes in the moonlight.
One time, Rarity.
Applejack’s words rang between her ears, bellowing the truth. She didn’t know him all that well. She hadn’t spoken to him all that much. She had received, in total, three letters and the promise of another and he hadn’t seemed all that interested from what he was writing.
But there had to be something. Hadn’t there?
Another cold chill enveloped her, and she magicked her robe over to wrap herself in. What if Applejack was right? What if she really did just push a little too hard sometimes? Maybe, just maybe, she was going about this all wrong. She’d always expected ponies to be interested in talking to her. She’d always approached them with the expectation that they’d one day be friends, even loosely, or at least business acquaintances.
She always expected to be ‘in the know.’
Perhaps Braeburn just didn’t want to be known.
But why—
“Oh, stop it!” she scolded herself. “You’re being absolutely ridiculous, Rarity! Look at yourself! Pining away over some stallion just like those dime-a-dozen novel heroines! What would the girls say if they knew? They’d think you were some starstruck filly, that’s what! Stop thinking about it! These letters clearly mean nothing. And if they really do mean nothing, then like Applejack said, they have a right to mean nothing!”
She stuffed the letters back in the drawers and slammed them shut, turning away with a delicate huff.
“So… so just go back to bed! This isn’t worth pursuing at all. Just go back to bed and you’ll wake up in the morning and work on those dresses for Hoity Toity—”
She stopped herself halfway to the bed, thinking of the chaotically creative mess she’d left in her workroom. She thought of the mannequins, with half- and quarter-finished dresses clinging to their flanks. She thought of the piles and piles and piles of rejected ideas swallowing up her wastebin. She thought of how she’d go and sit there and immerse herself in it all again.
And the entire time, at the back of her mind, she’d know that she was missing something.
She buried her face in her hooves and groaned. Feeling herself swoon, she stood up on her hind legs and twirled backwards onto the bed.
“Oh, what’s wrong with me-hee-eee!” she moaned. “Can I just not take rejection? Can I not simply brush this off?”
She flumped irritatedly.
“No. Obviously I cannot. It’s to do with Braeburn. But not just Braeburn, isn’t it?”
She looked around the room and noticed, for the first time, just how empty it was. It was terribly lonesome having a breakdown when your friends weren’t nearby.
“Loneliness? Is that all?” she snapped at the darkness. “I really must be pathetic if all this is some lame attempt to reach out for a stallion’s presence! I might as well just go throw myself at Big Macintosh!”
She nipped that line of thought in the bud. We all remember what happened last time Rarity. You two, cider, and an angry Applejack do not mix at all!
But then if it wasn’t loneliness, and it wasn’t Braeburn, and it wasn’t her, what was it?
What was that special something that had sapped her creative will and left her all alone when she hadn’t even realized she was alone?
Something about Braeburn. Something about those letters. Something about the way he was subtly pulling away when he’d been so eager to walk and talk with her before, something he hadn’t done with anypony else as far as she knew.
No, she was missing something. Something.
And she was going to find out just what it was.
“What was it you said, Applejack?” she whispered. “You throw your whole self into it, stack the deck as much as you can and leave the rest to luck?”
She sniffed and threw the covers over her head.
Lady Luck could wait until morning.
-----------------------------
“Are you sure about this, Rarity?” asked Twilight, putting a hoof on her shoulder. “This doesn’t really seem like you.”
“We’re gonna be super-duper sad without you!” Pinkie agreed, hopping nervously in place. “You didn’t even give me time to throw a ‘We’re Gonna Be Super-Duper Sad While You’re Away On Vacation’ party!”
“Oh, trust me girls,” Rarity responded with all the elegance and calm that befitted a lady of her station. “This is just what I need. A few weeks away from it all. Besides, I need something fresh. Something that will get my creativity going! What better way to do that but immerse myself in the stark, quiet solitude Equestria’s outer regions have to offer? Applejack has assured me that her family in Appleloosa will be more than willing to help me find room and board. Braeburn himself will be there to meet me at the platform. I don’t doubt there’s going to be anything much a silly old city girl like me can help with, but I’m sure I’ll find something to keep me busy.”
“I’m sorry the other girls aren’t here to see you off,” said Twilight, but Rarity wagged her hoof.
“Oh, it’s all right. I know how busy things can get. Do tell Fluttershy how sorry I am I won’t be able to accompany her to the spa!”
“I’m sure they would’ve liked to talk to you about this. We don’t normally go splitting off from each other.”
Rarity twitched. Pinkie, in her bouncy, eternal glee, didn’t notice, but she could’ve sworn there was something else behind Twilight’s simple statement. Something not quite accusatory. Something that beckoned. Something that said ‘come here and talk a while.’
Rarity matched her stare with a confident little smile.
“Don’t worry, Twilight,” she almost whispered. “I’ll be fine.”
Twilight sighed in that strange little way friends did when they saw friends repeating a mistake. Rarity couldn’t blame her. But really, was it anypony’s fault that their last two trips out to the frontier hadn’t been the most pleasant? Rarity gave Twilight a reassuring smile, telling her that she was a grown-up mare and after all they’d been through she was sure she could handle a couple weeks alone.
Pinkie Pie just needed a promise that Rarity would allow her to throw a huge welcome back party when she returned. Twilight remained unconvinced.
Rarity felt Twilight’s eyes on her as she boarded the train. She knew Twilight still watched as she placed her bags in the overhead compartments, entered her private compartment, and sat down at the window.
She glanced out to see Twilight, still gazing steadily, as Pinkie Pie bounced around waving and shouting incoherent farewells. Twilight didn’t wave, even as the train whistle called, and instead of smiling and wishing her luck, she just tilted her head in a way that was all at once curious, sad, and resigned. Try as she might, Rarity couldn’t look away.
A feeling of deep understanding came upon Rarity as the train started to pull away. In that moment, Rarity knew Twilight had her figured out, and fretted for a moment that they’d have a repeat of that fiasco when they chased after Applejack. The moment passed when Twilight didn’t go running after the train. Neither did she try to get Rarity to come back. Her look, above all, said ‘I know you’re doing something but I don’t know what, and I wish you’d let us help, but I trust you to do it right.’
She turned away from the window just before her friends were lost to view, and flopped into her seat, not sure whether to be grateful that at least somepony ‘knew’ her enough to realize what was happening or guilty that she’d been discovered so easily. Of course it would be Twilight to realize something was missing. They always had been close. Not in the way that she and Fluttershy or Twilight and Spike were close. But like attracts like, and being unicorns they both had a keen sensitivity to the state of the world and whenever it changed. That commonality drew them together in ways that others just wouldn’t understand.
She decided she would miss Twilight most of all.
-------------------
Rarity resisted the urge to sniff when she got off the train, knowing that doing so risked breathing in more of the dusty air. She had been careful to take as many precautions as possible. Some might call it excessive. She called it being prepared. It just might involve a few dirt-repellant shampoos enchanted straight from Twilight’s horn, a few coatings of magically enhanced anti-perspirant, two emergency raincoats…
She sighed as the bagpony left her with all her luggage on the platform. Perhaps the raincoats were a bit excessive.
The town of Appleloosa was only somewhat changed from when she had last seen it: a few new buildings had been added, but that was all she could tell. The ponies here were just as dusty and weather-beaten as before, but that didn’t bother her quite as much as it used to. She had learned a lot in the time she spent with ponies like her Ponyville friends, ponies she might once have considered uncouth. Now, this was just a mildly inconvenient locale where she might make new friends.
One new friend in particular.
She wasn’t able to think about her actual motivations for long, however: a pony was hailing her from across the platform, lemon yellow and green-maned. She had a pie of some sort as her cutie mark, and one of those great ten-gallon hats far too large for her head.
Really, where did ponies think these styles were a good idea? Applejack’s family’s fondness for function with no eye for form whatsoever continued to astound her.
“Oh, miss Rarity! Are ya’ll miss Rarity?”
Rarity tugged her luggage cart closer, smiling as pleasantly as she could even as warm steam from the train engine wreathed her face. “That would be me, yes!”
“I knew it! They said you’d be pretty an’ whatnot, but if you don’t mind my sayin’ so, words didn’t do ya justice!”
Rarity tittered behind her hoof. “Believe me, dear, I don’t mind at all. Might I have your name?”
“Apple Tart, miss! Guess I’ll show ya to your quarters? Hey! I can even show ya ‘round town once ya get settled!”
“That will be quite all right, deary,” Rarity said with a well-hidden wince. “I’ve gotten to know your fair town once already. What I am in need of is a comfortable bed; the compartments on the train were murder on my back!”
Apple Tart grinned. Thankfully, it wasn’t as obscenely large or infectious as one of Braeburn’s. She did, however, throw a hoof around Rarity’s shoulders and immediately dragged her off the platform, leaving another stallion Rarity hadn’t noticed to hitch himself to her luggage and tug it behind him.
“Well shoot, sugar, jus’ follow me to one of our top-o’-the-line establishments! You’ll forget you ever even left home! I gotta say, it’s a real honor to meet one a’ you fancy city-ponies, why Braeburn done told us all about you when you last came to visit! Too bad ya’ll had ta’ come when there was all that trouble with the buffalo, thank Celestia that got cleared up…”
Rarity’s ears caught Braeburn’s name and cradled it. So she and her friends really had left an impression last time. She didn’t know how; the entire fiasco hadn’t been resolved by Harmony but a taste of good old Apple pie. Still, something about it made her heart skip a beat when she thought of it as Braeburn speaking of her specifically.
“...And then there was that one time that Red Delicious got himself stuck in the waterin’ hole, but that was only on account of how muddy it was! But I’m sure you don’t wanna hear about that.”
Rarity started, turning to Apple Tart. “Oh, I’m so sorry! I think the long train ride really did tire me out, miss Apple Tart. I find my mind slipping.”
“Oh, that’s just fine an’ dandy, Rarity! We got lotsa ponies that just let their minds fly off into the wild blue yonder! You wouldn’t think it, but hard work like what we do here is the perfect opportunity to let yer imagination just take off…”
And Rarity did, as Apple Tart just kept talking.
----------------------
The sight of the farm almost made Rarity think Applejack had moved here. The orchards were clean and trim, the barn stood red and tall, and the ranch house, while larger than Applejack’s own, still had the same squat humility of its Ponyville counterpart. Even the trees looked no different for the harsher climate and the wide lanes cut between them to allow the buffalo their yearly stampedes. Several other buildings, from large storehouses to chicken coops, dotted the open area. It was a place that was the basis of all Equestrian society, a place that laid the foundations for cities even as grand as Canterlot.
To think that something close to royalty could be found even this far away from the capital, Rarity mused. Her mind flew back to the Apple family reunion, watching Braeburn guard the crowd with all the sovereign poise she had once dreamed of seeing in a stallion.
But in the end, that wasn’t why she followed Apple Tart down to the ranch house, listening to her prattle on the entire way up the path and into the home. It wasn’t why she accepted her small room without complaint, and it wasn’t why she didn’t feel as put-off as she thought she would when she the bathroom was less than stellar, and it wasn’t why she jumped onto the bed, listening to the old frame squeak and groan.
She hadn’t come here because of what she had seen in Braeburn, but because of what she had not seen.
“Anythin’ else I can get ya’ll? I wish we could give ya a proper welcome, but you hit us right in the middle of a busy day!” Apple Tart called from the door.
“Oh, no, that will be all,” Rarity said, waving her off a bit more forcefully than she intended. If she thought her back needed a break, that was nothing compared to her ears!
Apple Tart took the hint gracefully and bowed out. “Dinner’s in an hour!” she called. “You’ll meet the rest of the folks then!”
Rarity waited a moment, letting the blessed silence linger. Apple Tart had been speaking so long that the lack of her voice was louder than she had been.
She stood up and went to the window, tiphoofing as if she was a filly trying to avoid waking up her parents. She pressed her nose to the cool glass and looked into the orchards, watching the ponies go about their business. So many ponies weaved in and out of the treeline, bucking and towing apples, that it seemed a sizeable portion of the town was at work right here. She hadn’t realized so much of the population was still wrapped up in the agriculture. That would be a result of earth ponies insisting on doing things ‘the earth pony’ way. But that was no sign of irrational stubbornness; that was the sign of ponies who knew what they were doing and didn’t want other ponies cutting in on their profession.
Rarity understood that more than any of the unicorns up in Canterlot or the pegasi in Cloudsdale would. They often insisted that earth pony agriculture might be improved or sped up or made more efficient, because controlling the weather or touching the soul of the world was somehow much more important than laying the foundation of Equestria’s future. Having been to Canterlot more times than she could count, she was always hearing about this, that, or the other proposal to change how earth ponies did things. It was just like the day when her friends had decided to ‘advise’ her on her dresses; it wasn’t that there might be a ‘faster’ or ‘better’ way of doing things. It was that sometimes a job had to be done a certain way, by a certain pony empowered by certain feelings, and that was just that. A unicorn could enchant a tree to make it mature faster, and a pegasus need never worry about watering it, but nopony could grow them like an earth pony, just like nopony made a dress quite like her.
Yes, Rarity knew exactly how earth ponies felt when the other races were less than understanding about their role in the world.
Her eyes raked back and forth among the trees, watching the ponies hard at work. She saw no faces she recognized.
Hm. I thought he would be out there for sure… perhaps he just has other duties to attend to?
Still. While she did plan on getting some well-earned rest from her busy schedule and to research as many Western-themed dresses as she could, it would have been nice to lay eyes on the one reason she had come at all.
The sound of the dinner bell interrupted her quiet vigil, and she realized with a groan that she hadn’t even unpacked.
“Soup’s on, everypony!” a voice cried out with that ubiquitous frontier twang.
At once a parade of ponies erupted from the trees, racing each other to the barn. The farm workers must all eat in a communal fashion so they needn’t run all the way back into town to refresh themselves.
Then she heard hoofsteps tromping up the stairs, and realized with a cold chill that they expected her to join them. All of them. To eat. And get unbearably messy with in all likelihood.
“Miss Rarity?” Apple Tart called out, and in a moment of panic Rarity’s eyes darted about as she sought a place to hide. The closet? No, unoriginal. Under her bags? No, too uncomfortable!
“Miss Rarity!” Apple Tart sing-songed. She was just about at the door now. Rarity’s heart pounded in her chest as she looked under the bed and found there was no room, ran back to the window and realized as she flung it open that there was no way she was jumping from the second story—
“Miss Rarity?”
She turned around, casually leaning one elbow on the windowsill, angling herself so the sunlight hit her mane in just the right way to make it glow.
“Ahem. Yes? Apple Tart?” she asked, nervously fluffing her mane with her hoof.
Apple Tart had apparently been fooled by the display and smiled amicably. “Dinner’s ready, you know! We got all the tucker you could ask for after that long train ride!”
Rarity did her best to look nonchalant and shrugged, glancing off to one side. “Oh, well, darling, I have been trying to watch my figure recently. I’ll just nip in after most of the fun is over and get myself a little something something…” She was probably overselling it, but subtlety wasn’t something that was going to get her out of yet another room full of rowdy, sweaty ponies.
Then her stomach rumbled. Loudly.
Apple Tart grinned and darted forward as if Rarity had asked to be carried to the barn.
“Well, sounds like your stomach’s doin’ your thinking for you! Come on, we’ll get that fixed right up!” She wrapped a hoof around Rarity’s neck and pulled her away from the window.
“Traitor…” Rarity hissed at her belly.
-----------------
It was everything Rarity feared it would be. Apparently, Apple Tart’s and every other pony’s definition of relaxing was spending time with family and friends of family—not something she was averse to, but at least she knew how Sweetie Belle worked, and she had always had Applejack to turn to if the Apples were more confounding than usual. Plus, these Appleloosa ponies were loud. They might as well have been at the saloon for the way they hollered back and forth, doing their best to talk over each other as they shared town gossip or new apple-growing techniques.
Here, she had no lifeline, no buoy to swim for. She had only her own wits and charm to help battle the back-and-forth tides. Apple Tart had made herself Rarity’s unofficial greeter, walking her up and down the tables. Rarity was thankful for the opportunity insofar as it gave her the chance to find Braeburn, but no matter how many faces and Apple pony this and Cherry pony that she met, she didn’t chance upon Braeburn’s golden yellow.
Eventually she settled into the old routines she had learned to deal with every crowd, smiling and hobnobbing. She got more than enough attention from ponies all too curious about a glamorous city pony like herself, from bedazzled colts eager to be graced with her smile to curious mares who couldn’t figure out how she got her mane to curl like that. Ponyville was by no means a big city, but it was close enough for ponies who had lived their entire lives seeing nothing but distant mesas and the occasional cactus.
She sat down with Apple Tart when the initial flurry of questions died down and ponies went back to their own business.
“So whatcha think?” Apple Tart asked her, trying to remember her manners and swallowing a mouthful of pie before she went on. “Appleloosa ponies know how to make ya feel welcome, huh?”
“Oh, yes,” Rarity mumbled, still glancing back and forth over the crowd as she nibbled at a plate of crumble. “I must admit I’ve rarely had the… pleasure… of partaking in a feast quite like this.” Her eyes drifted to the floor, which was covered in dirt and mud and little flecks of dropped food. At least Applejack’s barn had a bit of homeliness to it. This was just barely restrained chaos, a public mess hall only barely sanitary.
“Tell me,” she asked, finding her patience starting to fray. “Do you know where I might find Braeburn Apple?”
Apple Tart’s eyebrows shot up. “Braeburn? Oh, right! He was talkin’ about how you were a good friend of old Applejack! Gosh, I’m sorry, that colt shoulda been here, said he would too.”
“But?” Rarity prodded.
“There was thing he had to get done in town. He’s gotten real close with the sheriff and the town council and all them important ponies. Really workin’ hard to keep Appleloosa on the map, you know? But he should be back any minute now. That boy’s a true Apple: never misses dinner!”
Rarity huffed as alarm bells started ringing in her head. This put the final nail in the coffin; Braeburn was hiding something! She could understand his being a little terse in his missives, but really, this was ridiculous! He had actually gone out of his way to avoid meeting her at the train station when he was the one who had been the most excited to show them around town in the first place!
“Well,” Rarity said, barely concealing her displeasure and fluffing her mane. “I shall just have to wait him out.”
Apple Tart arched an eyebrow, recoiling from Rarity’s sudden change in mood. “Uh. Were ya wantin’ to speak to him about somethin’ important? I could send a pony to find him…”
“No no,” Rarity said in a clipped voice, “I will be fine, Apple Tart. If he has more important things to do, then I will just—”
“Oh, hey!” an all too relieved Apple Tart blurted out, pointing over Rarity’s shoulder. “There he is now! Thank goodness! I mean, uh, let’s go say hi!”
Rarity whirled about on her chair. There, indeed, stood Braeburn Apple in all his glory, an easygoing smile on his face and a crowd of ponies already come to welcome him home. Rarity hopped off her seat, leaving Apple Tart behind as she trotted boldly down the aisles of messy tables. Making a beeline for Braeburn, she made sure to do a quick study of him to get a good idea of what she was getting into.
He was much the same as he had been in Applejack’s barn: tall and proud and every inch a stallion’s stallion, his messy gamboge locks and wide-brimmed hat framing his brilliant green eyes in just such a way to set any mare’s heart aflutter. His open vest hung loosely around his shoulders, baring his strong chest for any and all to see.
At any other time Rarity would have enjoyed the view, but tonight she was on a mission.
Her suspicions were only confirmed when their eyes met. His eyes widened, and she saw the tell-tale bulge of a big gulp worming down his throat. Rarity’s emotions reeled between pity and indignation at the guilt that blossomed over his handsome face.
“Why, Braeburn!” she crooned as she pushed through the crowd. “What a pleasure to finally see you again!”
“Uh,” said Braeburn.
“I had so much hoped to meet you at the train station as Applejack told me you might, but I can understand if you were just too busy to greet a friend of family.”
“Um,” muttered Braeburn, edging towards a cider barrel, presumably to hide behind it.
“Braeburn?” Apple Tart giggled nervously as she slunk up beside Rarity. “Miss Rarity’s here! I already showed her her room and all that, just like you told me to. Ain’t she the sweetest thing?”
Rarity peered at her out of the corner of her eyes as Braeburn shriveled. Just like you told me to?
“I’m sure you had something else to take care of,” she said, looking back at the stallion.
Braeburn gulped as his eyes darted around the room. They were right in front of everypony, and they could all see the confrontation taking place even if they didn’t outright stare.
“Apple Tart, fix me up a dandelion sandwich or somethin’, ‘kay?” stuttered Braeburn. Apple Tart, the poor dear, took the hint and scampered off, leaving Rarity to stare archly at Braeburn. The stallion tapped his hooves together and put on his most welcoming grin.
“Well howdy, miss Rarity! Welcome back to Aaaaaaap—fffmmm!”
Rarity gently released the magical grip she’d clamped his mouth shut with.
“Let’s not and say we did, shall we?”
Braeburn all but deflated. “Aw, shoot, miss Rarity,” he muttered, scuffing his hoof like a chastised foal. “I’m mighty sorry I didn’t meet ya’ll at the train station like I said I would. It’s just, there was a lot of things going on today. I had to meet with the town council and the sheriff, and there was some things going on with the buffalo, and… and I’m sorry. I got busy, that’s all!”
You got cold hooves, though I can’t imagine why. Rarity crossed her forelegs and raised an eyebrow. “That’s not all I’m upset by, Braeburn,” she said softly. “I think we both know what I’m here for.”
Braeburn gasped and twitched as if physically struck, meeting Rarity’s eyes more with shock than guilt. Rarity was surprised by how deep she’d cut him. Had the same thoughts that harried her been plaguing him all along? She watched patiently as he rubbed a foreleg with his hoof, seeming to gather his courage for something to say.
She felt the eyes of others on them, wondering what this glamorous city unicorn could have done to depress the grandest and happiest stallion of them all, and brushed it all off.
“Ya’ll didn’t have to come out here, Rarity,” Braeburn mumbled weakly.
“Didn’t I?” Rarity pressed. Braeburn looked up and around at all the ponies, feasting and eating and some wandering off to get some sleep before tomorrow’s new work day. He bit his lip and looked to the side where Apple Tart hovered nervously with a dandelion sandwich.
“Rarity,” he said quietly, “you wanna go for a walk?”
Rarity blinked, and her front hooves touched the ground again, balancing her as she stood up.
“Certainly.”
---------------
He did not take her to the orchards, as he had the first time they spoke. Instead, they turned toward the streets of Appleloosa itself. Rarity stayed precisely six hoof lengths away from Braeburn’s side, the perfect length to show they were in each other’s company without being too presumptuous. She bore the wait in silence as he brought her up the road to the town, snatching only quick glances of him as he stewed in his own thoughts.
He looked impatient more than anything else. His hoofsteps were brusque and heavy, tromping over the ground and kicking up little clouds of dust with every step. It reminded Rarity of the way Pinkie walked, always bursting with energy, always eager to be elsewhere, even if it was just one more step forward. But this was different. Pinkie simmered and bubbled, always expending and sharing her boundless enthusiasm. Braeburn looked like a slow fuse, crackling towards an inevitable explosion.
Rarity sighed, stood by and waited until he couldn’t bear the silence any longer.
“I didn’t expect to see you,” he said, with the light, rising tone of somepony who didn’t know what to say and prayed the other pony took the bait.
Rarity did, to be polite. “I didn’t expect to come out here,” she said, tossing her mane and not caring how it sounded. It was the truth, no more, no less. A lady always told the truth, even if she just told bits of it. “But you rarely see where life will take you.” She turned to him, eyebrow raised. “I didn’t ask you the first time we spoke. Did you always mean to come out to Appleloosa?”
Braeburn looked thankful for any distractions he could get. He sucked in a deep breath, clearly not expecting the question, but not unwilling to answer. “Tell you the truth… not really. It became a family effort. But I grew to love it. Like you grow to love the orchards. It’s all just flat and dry and dusty at first, but earth ponies… we gotta put our magic into somethin’ before another thing comes out.”
Silence fell over them again. Rarity wondered if he would realize the irony of his own words, but it never came, or if it did he hid it well.
They passed the Salt Lick saloon, alive with the noise of late-night patrons. Rarity saw Braeburn turn towards it, watching with something between fondness and worry until they passed.
They took comfort in each other’s silence as they plodded the entire length of the street, engaged in a silent conversation Rarity wasn’t certain Braeburn fully understood. She edged towards him once, and he pulled away. She looked away to the other side of the street and felt his eyes on her, heard his breath rise and fall with constant, unspoken words that stopped just short of leaving his mouth. It wasn’t until they reached the very edge of town, stopping on the porch of a closed general goods store, that he gathered the gumption to speak.
“What’re ya’ll doin’ here, Rarity?” he asked. She stared straight ahead, realizing that one could see the very edge of the horizon from right here, looking down the street. You didn’t get that in Ponyville. Everything was sheltered and cloistered by the hills and trees, and grounded by the sight of distant Canterlot. Even if it was sometimes strange and dangerous you could stand there and say it was your place in the world.
Out here, Rarity couldn’t be less sure where she was.
“You do deserve an answer,” she decided, as much for herself as for Braeburn. She turned and looked him in the eyes. “Braeburn, why were your letters getting so strange as of late?”
He gazed steadily back, so innocent and guileless Rarity almost believed it. “What was so strange about ‘em?”
“Don’t play coy with me. Something was bothering you. Something is bothering you.”
Braeburn shrugged and gave another easy smile. “I appreciate the concern, Rarity, but I dunno what you’re talkin’ about.”
“You said plenty in your letters to me.”
Almost dancing on his hooves, Braeburn hopped off the porch and trotted a ways into the desert, flicking his tail as he turned to face her with a carefree grin. “Well shoot, Rarity, they’re just letters, you know? Why do they gotta mean so much? Taking a train ride all the way out here for little old me, peckin’ and pokin’ with all these questions, I mean… whew! Sheesh, Rarity!” he said, shrugging again.
Rarity’s lips tightened into a flat line, feeling the sting of a sharp rebuff. He’s dancing like a nervous faun, but I can’t back out now.
“Braeburn,” she said.
His ears perked up and he jerked to a halt as surely as she’d cracked a whip. She knew when a stallion felt the guilty sting of a lady’s displeasure, and it was plain in the way he gulped and stood utterly still.
“Do you know why I started writing you those letters in the first place? Why I even asked to speak with you, why we wandered for hours under the trees of Applejack’s orchard?”
He knew better than to answer.
Rarity raised her head up, looking down her nose at him. “I did not do all this to satisfy some petty urge to maintain distant acquaintances, Braeburn. I most certainly did not do it because I feel some strange obligation to keep in touch purely out of necessity or convenience. I rub shoulders with strange ponies every day, and they talk to me because I provide a service, because I give them patronage, or because I am a pretty face they wish to add to some list of ‘must-haves’ at their latest party. I am long past the point of satisfying my vanity with such things. There is nothing and never was anything dishonest about my desire to speak to you. I assure you I did not come here looking for anything besides the pleasure of your company.”
She took a deep breath and let it out in a prim little sigh. She disliked being so sharp, and for a moment she thought she’d overdone it. But a lady had to make her voice heard. Braeburn’s gaze had gone to the ground around halfway through her monologue. He scuffed the dirt with his hoof, peering into the divot he scooped out. He frowned, disliking what he saw.
“I want to be your friend, Braeburn,” Rarity added in a quiet murmur. She stepped forward and stopped his neurotic digging with a gentle hoof. “And I want you to trust me. I value every friendship of mine, no matter how distant or recent.”
He looked at their touching hooves, anchoring himself. “It’s not you, Rarity,” he said. “Please don’t take it so personal-like. I didn’t mean it to come out like that. You just… it made me nervous, knowin’ a lady like you was comin’ after a guy like me. If you don’t mind my saying so, you’re one heck of a mare, Rarity. I could tell just by lookin’ at you.” He looked up at her out of the corners of his eyes, hiding just under the brim of his hat in a manner Rarity found simply adorable.
She rolled her eyes, breaking the tension with an exaggerated scoff. “Why does everypony insist on saying ‘if you don’t mind my saying so?’ I am more than capable of taking a compliment!” she said, batting her eyelashes.
Braeburn chuckled, all smiles again. “Well, it ain’t just that. It’s…” His smile slipped away like melting ice. “It’s everything, Rarity. Of course I wanna be your friend. I wanna be everypony’s friend if I can. But things out here are different than Ponyville or Canterlot. Appleloosa’s got it’s own share of problems an’ so do I.”
“I understand that,” said Rarity. “But being somepony’s friend means being a part of what they struggle with. I can tell you’re struggling, Braeburn, and I came here to help you with that. Think of our friendship as a sapling. I am willing to nurture it. So much so that I came all the way out here. Are you?”
Braeburn gave her a wry, skeptical smile. “You put all that thought into just bein’ my friend?”
“I am nothing if not generous,” Rarity replied primly. “Do you really not have anypony else to turn to? Even Applejack?”
Braeburn’s face fell. “Rarity… I don’t think you understand.”
“Then what must I do?”
Braeburn turned away, looking back down Appleloosa’s main street. “How long are you out here for?”
“Oh, a good couple of weeks, I should imagine.”
Braeburn’s ears twitched. “Two weeks.”
Rarity tilted her head. “Is that a problem?”
“No,” said Braeburn. “No, it shouldn’t be.”
“Braeburn,” said Rarity, stamping her hoof, “tell me what you’re thinking.”
“I’m thinkin’... I can’t just tell you,” Braeburn said, turning around to face her. “Rarity, you wanna understand me? You gotta understand Appleloosa. You gotta understand what brought me here. What made me plant my hooves in the dirt an’ extend a helping hoof when the chips were down.”
He loomed over her, face-to-face. “If you want to be my friend, Rarity, you gotta be a friend to Appleloosa.”
Rarity looked up at him, his eyes shining in the blazing orange dusk.
“When do I start?”