The following day I reckoned that my family had waited long enough. After finishing up with the day’s harvesting, my new set of saddlebags was filled with a good portion of my gold, leaving the remainder in the old pair under my borrowed bed. Tipping my hat to the mares working in the kitchen as I made my way out of the house, I was reminded yet again to be at the dinner table on time. The trot into Ponyville passed much quicker than my thoughts, and I came into the town proper in an overall much-improved state compared to my first arrival.
Both my slightly better-groomed appearance and the fact that my staying at the Smith’s was known by now resulted in a much better acceptance by the town ponies. Covering my surprise at a few waved greetings by meeting each and every friendly face with one of my own, I found the desire to build a local reputation stronger the longer I stayed in Ponyville County. I contemplated how quickly the little town had grown on me as the door to train station swung upon freely, admitting me into the station’s surprisingly cool interior. Thankfully the small depot was empty of ponies, save for the aging flint-grey unicorn sitting languidly behind the main desk. Stepping up to the counter, the old salt tipped back his crumbled conductors cap and studied me through a pair of impressively thick eyebrows. “What can I do for ya, son?”
“I’d like to send out a telegram to Fillydelphia, and wire some money along with it.”
The rail pony nodded and rummaged under the counter for the required papers. “Fill them there forms out, an’ I get it sent out by the hour.”
I nodded and took up the proffered quill in my mouth, scribing out the telegram to my folks telling them my intentions in Ponyville, which I largely came up with as I wrote. Satisfied with the concise wording, I pushed the telegram form over and started on my wire transfer. The good old salt raised his bushy eyebrows in surprise at the length of my telegram, and began to open his muzzle in commentary until he caught sight of the amount I had down on the wire transfer. Sensing snarky comments inbound; I went ahead and reached back to my bags to start unloading the gold to back it. All perceived drowsiness was wiped from the stallion’s face as the bars began to stack upon his counter. “Damn colt, you rob a bank?” Taking up one of the nicked old bars in his magic, he studied the curious seals imprinted into each one. Half of each seal had been filed away in a past age, leaving only one alicorn of the old royal imprint intact. “A bank hundreds of years old, too, hmm? Lucky the ole bigwigs haven’t changed bar standards since whenever the heck these were made.”
“I consider them to be payment, and I will say that the bank was more of a Nightmare’s treasury.” I grinned at the old salt’s confusion. “And I will be taking the insurance with that wire.”
Stepping back out into the dusty street with an emptied set of saddlebags and content smile, I began making my way over to Barnyard Bargains. Haven taken no more than a few paces before the old Apple sense for abrewin’ trouble came up, I began to study the sparse afternoon crowd more closely. One old couple was sitting on the porch of their town home, intently watching a scene developing further on down Mane Street in the market. More ponies turned to watch as I briskly trotted up to the front of the forming herd.
“Granny”
“Granny Smith”
“Wake up, Gran!”
“Huh, wha?” The wizened old mare jolted upright and brushed away a prodding orange hoof.
“You done went and dozed off again Granny!” Granny Smith smiled at her chuckling grand-filly. A few blinks brought the rest of her family’s living room into focus. The fire sparked merrily as her other grand-foal prodded its logs, and the light snores emanating from a pile of blankets marked where the little one had nodded off, her bow quivering with each tiny lungful. Finally she regarded the visiting purple unicorn, quill still held quivering over a growing pile of parchment. Noticing the slightly disappointed face of the filly, Grainne silently wished that she had started these tales long ago. “Sorry time ran short on me, young un.’ I’ll make sure ta finish on the morrow.”
“That’s perfectly fine, Granny Smith, I just thank you for sharing all of this with me, its an amazing look into early Ponyville!” the grin on the young mare’s muzzle widened as she spread her fore hooves over the growing pile of papers surrounding her. “I may even author my own historical book series!”
Applejack patted her grandmother on the back, straightening out her signature shawl. “All thanks, ta you, Granny! The Apples really were sumthin’ back then.”
Grainne Smith’s thoughts turned once again to the yarn she was spinning. The Apple clan really had done a lot in shaping the new age of Equestria, and she was darn proud to have been a part of it. But as the elderly mare looked around at the results of a lifetime’s worth of care and love, Grainne knew that that made her even prouder. Granny Smith looked her grandfoal straight in the eye, taking a moment to admire the striking similarity they held with a certain stallion from years past “Ain’t nothing saying the current crop is any less admirable, filly.”