//------------------------------//
// The Prodigal Son Returns 
// Story: Life of an Equestrian Engineer 
// by Railroad Brony 
//------------------------------//

	They found an empty boxcar with a quantity of clean, loose paper, which they used to soften the hard, rough floor. Regulator's mind was filled with the excitement of the day and the prospect of getting a job. It wasn't long before sleep overcame both of them.
Early the next morning, the boxcar gave a noisy lurch and started to move. "Let's get out of here!" shouted Berkshire as he started for the door. Regulator followed instinctively. Berkshire jumped clear, but Regulator was half asleep and he hesitated for a moment. The train was picking up speed.
"Hurry up and jump!" Berkshire shouted.
Regulator leaped to the ground and the momentum caused him to stumble forward. Berkshire caught him before he went down.
Let's go," said Berkshire, as he trotted off in the direction of the depot. Over a flatcar, through an open boxcar, and across a dozen tracks, by the time they reached the clearing, Regulator was winded. 
"Wait up for me," he yelled. Berkshire slowed his pace and motioned with a swing of his arm for him to hurry.
They entered the depot by the back door and headed for the stallion's room. After washing up, they brushed off their clothes and combed their manes. As Regulator looked in the mirror, he realized that Berkshire was a head taller than him and had a day's growth of beard. Regulator considered giving up the idea of being hired out. He knew his chances were slim, but he reasoned, "I have nothing to lose by trying." So he squared his shoulders and stood a little taller. Somehow, that seemed to improve his hope.
Berkshire asked the ticket agent about whom he should contact in order to apply for a job. 
"The traveling engineer is the fellow you want to see," replied the unicorn behind the desk. "He's located in the yard office about a mile down the track." As he spoke, he pointed in the direction from which they had just come.
"Let's go," said Berkshire. By the time they reached the yard office, Regulator was pretty tuckered out. Berkshire instructed Regulator to wait outside while he applied for the job. Usually he obeyed his big brother, and though he nodded assent, he followed quickly right behind.
A unicorn clerk opened a low, swinging gate and directed Berkshire down the hall. Regulator hesitated just long enough to watch Berkshire disappear into a room. Then he slipped in through the open door right behind him.
The official was seated with his legs crossed on the corner of his desk. The stub of a black cigar was clenched between his teeth. "What can I do for you," he asked.
"I want a job firing," was Berkshire's answer.
"And what about him?" the man said, directing his question toward Regulator. Up till now, Berkshire was not aware that his brother was standing right behind him. 
Stepping forward with his shoulders back, Regulator stood as tall as he could and said, "Sir, I want a job firing, too."
"Just how old are you, son?" inquired the official.
"I became 18 the 14th of this month," was the reply.
Slowly, the official removed his legs from the desk, leaned forward and said, "Tell me the truth, are you 13 or 14?"
Regulator looked straight ahead and was about to repeat the lie when Berkshire interrupted, "Reggie*, you can't fool him. Now get back outside and wait like I told you."
Regulator was crestfallen and he just stood there looking down. The official, sensing his deep disappointment, got out of his chair, walked over and put his hand his shoulder, and said, "Son, you come back when you're 18 and I'll give you a job."
Too embarrassed to look up, Regulator thanked him and went outside. After about half an hour, Berkshire came out with a handful of papers and a big grin on his face.
"Did you get the job?" Regulator asked.
"Yeah, no thanks to you," returned Berkshire. "I've go half a notion to give ya a good beating. They want me to start my student trips** right away, so I'll have to get my physical exam and report right back. I'm sending you home on the next freight," he continued.
"But what will I tell Father when he asks me where I've been?"
Berkshire felt sorry for him because he would have to face the music. "Well," he said, "I guess the only thing you can do is go and tell Mother the truth and hope she will persuade Father to go easy on you. Now come along, I've got to get you on the train."
Regulator followed him back to the freight yard. There was a southbound about to leave. Berkshire helped him into and empty boxcar and said, "Tell Mother I'll be home first chance I get off. Now stay out of sight until you're out of town." With that, Berkshire trotted off.
Regulator's hopes of a job were gone and now he was faced with the prospect of severe discipline. After leaving Green Bay, he stood in the doorway and reflecting on his misfortune. The beautiful green pastures with grazing cattle helped to ease his troubled mind. It was only 32 miles to Trottingham and soon he would be home. With that thought in mind, he suddenly realized he was hungry.


It was about noon when the train crossed the long bridge and he could see the Trottington depot. There was his father's switch engine parked in front of the switchpony's shanty***. Regulator figured his father was at home having dinner, therefore he planned to hop off at the crossing and lay low until his dad returned for the afternoon switching. Then he would slip home unnoticed. When the train slowed down, he jumped clear and started to run. As he darted past the gatetender's shack****, a voice with the ring of authority sounded loud and clear.
"Casey Regulator Trotterson! Come here!"
Regulator froze in his tracks. As he turned, he saw his father leaning out the window of the little shanty. Slowly, he walked back.
"Didn't I just see you hop off a boxcar?" The tone of his voice betrayed precariously controlled emotion.
Without looking up, he answered, "Yes, Father."
"You get on home and I'll tend to you when I get off work," As he finished the sentence, his arm and forefinger were pointing in the direction of home.
Mother Trotterson was in the process of finishing the noon dishes when he came through the back door. "Where have you been?" she exclaimed, almost in tears.
Painfully, he told her the whole story. "I know it was wrong," he added, "but I wanted that job so badly."
"Your father was very upset, and I'm afraid you'll be in for it."
As she spoke, she brushed back his thick hair and drew his head down against her breast.
"There is no getting out of it. Father caught me getting off a freight train."
Mrs. Trotterson was a little mare and though she had ten children, her concern for each was as though she had but one. "Go fix up," she said, "and I'll fix you something to eat."
While his mother stirred the wood stove and added a few sticks, Regulator pumped some water into a basin and proceeded to clean up. When he had finished the meal, Regulator felt much better. He grabbed a towel and was helping his mother when Jewel, his younger sister, came bounding through the door. After kissing her mother on the cheek, she looked at Regulator and said, "Where have you been?"
Regulator was in no mood to rehash the whole story, but his mother explained briefly what had been done, including the promised discipline. Jewel flinched at the thought.
"Mama, what can we do?"
"There is nothing we can do. However, I'll ask your father not to be too severe. But you know that hopping trains is a very grave offense, not to mention taking off without even telling anyone."
Jewel sat down at the table with her chin propped up on her hands. For a while, she seemed to be in deep concentration. Suddenly, she jumped up and said, "I've got it!"
"Got what?" asked her mother.
"I know how we can save Reggie!"
Regulator appreciated her our concern, but any hope of getting out of it seemed so remote that he felt no interest.
"Maybe we can't get him out of it, but we can put padding under his overalls so it won't hurt so much."
Father Trotterson had a heavy razor strap; one that could deliver the message through clothes quite adequately. "Padding would certainly reduce the effect," her mother added.
"Oh, Mother, you know Father would catch on and maybe make me take off all my clothes."
There was a short silence. Then his mother went upstairs and came back with two pairs of brother Berkshire's heavy woolen pants. 
"Get upstairs and put these on under your overalls and we'll see how it looks." 
As she finished the instructions, she tossed him the pants. Regulator figured it was a lost cause, but he did as she said and came down the stars waddling like a duck. When his mother first saw him she had to cover her mouth in order to hide a big grin.
Jewel spoke up, "Reggie, Father won't even know the difference."
"Oh, it's no use," he said, as he darted back upstairs to remove the pants.
"Just a minute," said Jewel, as she raced off. When she reappeared, she was carrying that mean-looking razor strap. "Bend over, Reggie, and we'll see how effective that padding really is."
Jewel seemed to enjoy the the prospect of laying it on her big brother. As she raised the strap and took the proper stance, Regulator shouted his objections... "Just a darn minute!"
At this point, his mother sensed that Jewel might well convince brother Regulator that the results may be worth the risk. "Go ahead. Bend over, Reggie. Let's see if it will help."
The whole thing seemed so ridiculous, but at the same time, he couldn't forget how that strap had stung in the past. After a brief reflection on the subject, he said, "Okay, whack me just once."
WHACK!!
Regulator straightened up and rubbed his rear vigorously. "Did you have to lay it on so hard?" he complained.
"Well, how about it? Did it reduce the pain?"
"Well, I guess it helped some, but after 10 or 15 of them on the same cheek it won't matter much. Maybe we better forget the whole idea."
Once again, Jewel darted out and came back with one of her mother's oversized pie tins.
"Oh, no you don't," he protested, but Jewel grabbed hold of his overalls and his mother helped jam the pit tin in the appropriate location.
Now, let's try that again," Jewel said. The overalls were so tight that he had difficulty bending over.
Once more she got that gleam in her eye as she wound up.
BLAM!!
Regulator straightened up slowly with a big grin. "I didn't even feel it," he said.
The whole operation had used up precious time and shortly Father Trotterson would be home from work. Regulator made a final adjustment to the pie tin and sand down on the rocker to await his fate. Soon, he heard familiar heavy steps.
Where is Regulator?" his father demanded. 
"Now, Berkshire," said Mother Trotterson, as she helped her husband remove his overall jacket. Then she continued to speak in low tones. Jewel and Regulator knew she was pleading for leniency. Father Trotterson pumped some water and began to wash off the coal dust. Mother Trotterson handed him the towel.
While he was drying he said, "Now you listen to me. That colt needs a good lesson and I'm going to see that he gets it." With that he shouted, "Regulator!"
Regulator jumped up and answered, "Yes, Father."
"Get upstairs to my room, and I'll tend to you directly."
Regulator started for the stairs and as he reached for that first step, his father noticed the unusual contour of his lower half. The overalls were so tight that Regulator feared each step might expose the whole plot. After reaching the room his father told him to bend over. His rear end stuck out like a bustle. Only then did Father Trotterson realize what had been done. Slowly, he raised the strap for the first swat. As Regulator braced himself he could see sister Jewel at the top of the stairs, peeking around the corner of the bannister. When nothing happened he looked around fearfully. There was his dad with his hand over his mouth. Soon, Father Trotterson could contain himself no longer. Dropping the strap, her burst out laughing until the tears rolled down his cheeks. Slowly, Regulator straightened up with a puzzled look on his face. Never before had his father failed to carry out a threat of punishment.
Jewel ran over and planted a kiss on her father's cheek and gave him a big hug. After recovering his composure, Father Trotterson sat down on the bed, and said, "You can take off that armor plate, now. I'm not going too whip you. But don't let me ever hear of you hopping trains again. Do you understand me?" 
Regulator nodded and answered, "Yes, Father."
The outcome of Regulator's reprieve resulted in an evening of unusual merriment in the Trotterson household. Maybe somewhat akin to the fable The Prodigal Son's Return.