Nearly two-thousand miles away, in the arid and almost barren San Palomino Desert, the vast orchard that formed the backbone of Appleloosa's economy was bustling with activity as the town's residents began harvesting the first apple crop of the season. The town had thrived enormously in the five years since its foundation, steadily growing in size until it was almost big enough to rival Dodge City, and the orchard itself had become almost as dependable as its Ponyville counterpart of Sweet Apple Acres.
The apple harvest was normally something that Braeburn would approach with great pride and enthusiasm; but today, much to everypony else's surprise and concern, he wasn't exhibiting quite the same gusto that he normally did at this time of year. Far from the eager and highly sociable stallion he tended to be, he seemed more than a little distracted, and the prospect of a hard day's graft in the orchard seemed to be the last thing on his mind. Instead, he was busying himself with shuttling the fruits of the town's labour to the storehouse near the Town Hall, each time bringing back a fresh cart to be loaded up again.
As he made his way through the many groves of trees, across the main avenue they had laid through the orchard to maintain the buffalo's sacred stampeding trail, he heaved a deep sigh and stared across the desert towards Celestia knew where. To say he didn't enjoy living here would be wholly untrue, but for some time now, he couldn't help feeling an empty space in his heart – something that Appleloosa would never quite be able to fill very easily, if at all.
“Somethin' up, Braeburn?” said a voice from somewhere behind him.
Braeburn looked over his shoulder to see a terracotta Earth pony with a blond mane and tail and a ukulele Cutie Mark standing next to his empty cart. “Not a lot, thanks, Meadow Song,” he replied unhappily, and continued across the orchard.
“You sure? You don't exactly sound with it right now.”
“Ah'll be fine,” muttered Braeburn half-heartedly, trying to worm his way out of the long conversation he could feel coming his way.
But Meadow Song wasn't about to let his friend and fellow worker off the hook that easily; “Not the way yo' goin at the moment,” he retorted. “Come on now, ol' buddy, what is it that's buggin' ya?”
With another heavy sigh, Braeburn halted his cart and unhitched himself from its traces. “Well, if you must know, Ah'm actually in a bit of a bind because...well, Ah think Ah might have gone and broken mah heart.”
Meadow Song was taken aback. “How so?”
“You remember when Cousin Applejack an' her pals came over here with Bloomberg an' helped us make peace with the buffalo?”
“As if I'd ever forget that!” scoffed Meadow Song. “I thought we'd never see the end of a' that – 'specially not after that pink mare nearly ruined everything with that there Share an' Care song o' hers.”
“Well, brush it off if you must,” huffed Braeburn, noticeably offended, “but speaking for myself, Ah rather la'ked that performance of hers, an' Ah don't care that it nearly led to the town bein' flattened! She's a great singer is Pinkie Pie, and an all-round great pony too.”
Meadow Song chortled in disbelief. “Yeah, right!”
“No, really, Meadow, Ah mean it!” insisted Braeburn firmly. “That mare did at least try to calm the rift between us an' the buffalo – an' in her defence, Ah've seen ballets worse than what she did back then!”
“Ballets?! What in the hay is that supposed ta mean? Ya never liked ballets anyway.”
“Well......yeah, maybe Ah don't – but that's besides the point! The point Ah'm trying to make here...”
“Okay, okay, cool it, Mr Cultural Agnostic,” soothed Meadow Song. “If ya really think this Pinkie Pie is a great performer, then that's fine; I'm not gonna challenge y'all about it. But what I don't understand is why ya brought it up in the first place.”
Braeburn paused for a moment, trying to muster up the courage to explain himself. “Because it's Pinkie Pie who's been occupying mah thoughts lately. She's kinda grown on me since that li'l spat with the buffalo, an' Ah think Ah may have started gettin'...well, feelings fo' her.”
“Started?!” laughed another stallion who happened to be nearby. “Shucks, Ah must be clairvoyant or somethin' then!”
Braeburn glared daggers at the pony who had just butted into his and Meadow Song's conversation. “Well, ya don' 'ave ta make such a joke out of it, stupid!” he ordered sharply.
“He does have a point, though,” observed Meadow Song. “If I didn't know better, I'd say the whole Pinkie Pie thing 'ad been plaguing y'all fo' years, so ya can hardly say you've only just started gettin' feelings fo' that mare. Remember how y'all felt after she an' 'er friends left?”
“Ah guess Ah do,” mused Braeburn thoughtfully. “Ah felt kinda sorry to have ta say goodbye to that lot, but Ah only really thought it was because of Applejack. It never once hit me that it'd have anythin' ta do with Pinkie.”
“Yeah, I can kinda see where yo' comin' from,” remarked Meadow Song. Applejack had always been Braeburn's favourite cousin, but with such heavy workloads on their plates, it was difficult for either of them to find time to visit the other, so it was only natural that Braeburn should have misinterpreted his own emotions the way he did. “But yeah, we could all see what was goin' on under that skull o' yours, even if y'all couldn't. Speakin' fo' myself, I'm surprised ya din' just turn around there an' then an' tell us y'all 'ad decided ta move outta town an' live on Sweet Apple Acres!”
“It's not that simple, Meadow,” protested Braeburn pathetically. “Appleloosa's been a huge part o' mah life since we firs' laid foundations here. There's no way Ah would'a just left it behind in a heartbeat – that's la'k...well, abandonin' yo' own parents!” Head hanging, the golden stallion sat himself down on his haunches. “Matter o' fact, Ah'm still havin' trouble tryin' ta decide as much right now. Ah la'k Pinkie, that much is obvious, but...Ah still dunno.”
Meadow Song gave an understanding nod in reply. It didn't take a genius to realise just how lost Braeburn was at the moment, and naturally he felt compelled to try and help him out of his dilemma in any way he could. “Surely it can't be all bad,” he encouraged. “After all, yo' cousins do live on an orchard of their own – an' besides, what's stoppin' y'all from comin' back ta visit us ever' once in a while?”
“Every summer an' autumn at least, if our yearly apple crop is anythin' ta go by,” muttered Braeburn.
“Wrong again, buddy,” Meadow Song pointed out. “This 'ere orchard may be almost as big as the one in Ponyville, but Sweet Apple Acres is only a family business if I 'member correctly. Ours, in case y'all done forgotten, is community property; anypony an' everypony is allowed to help out here – even the local buffalo tribes, I might add – so yeah, if ya wanna move on, we won't hold it against ya.”
Braeburn didn't answer. He just stared up at the heavens with a plaintive look in his eyes, almost as if he was pleading for a sign from the powers that be.
“Do ya care fo' this Pinkie Pie?”
Without averting his gaze, Braeburn slowly nodded. “Mo' than anythin' else in the world.”
“Do ya wanna be with her fo' as long as ya both live?”
“Wouldn't be a bad thing,” conceded Braeburn.
“Do ya wanna be the one who fathers her foals in the long run?”
This brought a heavy blush to Braeburn's face, and he couldn't help but cringe slightly. “Well...it's a bit early to be thinkin' about that,” he stammered.
“An' do ya wanna stick around in yo' home town feelin' guilty that ya never got the chance ta tell 'er how ya really feel about her?” finished Meadow Song in deadpan.
“No, of course not!”
“Well then, in that case, the sensible choice would be to go after yo' mare,” stated Meadow Song firmly.
Braeburn paused. He knew Meadow Song was right, but he wasn't sure he had the guts. “Ah still don't know, Meadow,” he sighed unhappily. “What if she doesn't feel the same way about me? What if...”
“No ifs, no buts,” interrupted his friend with a smirk. “If ya don't take that risk now, ya never will – an' ya know we wouldn't want that. Heck, there's no way we'd be able to get by if we ever thought y'all were anythin' but yo' usual cheerful self.” And as if to emphasise his point even further, he began living up to the second half of his name:
“Gosh, it's depressin' ta see Braeburn,
Lookin' so down in the dumps;
Contagious yo' feelings can be, Braeburn,
Even if we lose Top Trumps.
There's nopony here as admired as you.
Yo' everyone's favourite guy!
All of us here are inspired by you,
And it's not very hard to see why...”
These encouraging lyrics quickly caught the attention of everypony else on the orchard, and they all turned to watch and listen as Meadow Song continued...
“No...one's...slick like Braeburn,
Nor can kick like Braeburn,
Or perform such a swell farmyard trick like Braeburn.
Yo' peacekeepin' is worth a medallion,
For maintainin' our 'Buffalo Bond';
That's why yo' such a memorable stallion
From Equestria to Pegagypt an' beyond...”
...before joining in with him on the next verse;
“No...one's...been, like Braeburn,
A lynch-pin like Braeburn;
No-one has such a wonderful kin like Braeburn...”
Braeburn felt so much better for hearing this that he couldn't help but contribute to the song himself;
“There's nopony who's quite so exhilaratin'!”
...to which all the others proclaimed,
“My, what a guy, that Braeburn!
Give five hurrahs, give twelve hip-hips...”
“Braeburn's a role model from hooves to wing-tips...”
The moment that lyric came out of Meadow Song's mouth, all the other ponies in the orchard stared at him in confusion. Meadow Song gave an awkward grin in response; but Braeburn, already feeling somewhat rejuvenated by all this musical praise, was reduced to stitches by Meadow Song's humour, and had to buck a nearby apple tree in order to pull himself together. Plenty of the other ponies saw that coming, of course, and promptly continued:
“No...one...bucks like Braeburn,
Brings good luck like Braeburn,
And nopony gives hay-rides in trucks like Braeburn.
And because he's so agile and brawny,
Appleloosa has apples to spare;
So nopony here ever goes scrawny...”
At this point, one of the other ponies promptly added a lyric more comical than the one Meadow Song had contributed just a few seconds ago;
“And every last inch of him's covered with hair!”
Meadow Song directed an odd look at the stallion, who simply replied with a cheesy look that seemed to say, “Well, duh – I'm just telling the truth here!” Instead of making a big deal out of it, however, both ponies, and everyone else around them, went right back to the song;
“No...one...strikes like Braeburn,
Booms the mikes like Braeburn,
Or excels at amusing the tykes like Braeburn.”
“Ah fin' none o' their antics exasperatin'!”
“Top marks all round for Braeburn!”
“When Ah was a colt, Ah ate four apple pies
Every mornin' to help me get large;
An' now Ah'm grown up, Ah eat five apple pies,
An' can harvest enough for a barge!”
“No...one...frowns on Braeburn,
Nor looks down on Braeburn,
'Cause there's no better guide to this town than Braeburn.”
“Ah use apples in all o' mah decoratin'!”
“My, what a guy – Braeburn!”
“Ya see, Braeburn?” said Meadow Song once the song had drawn to a close. “We're all real proud o' y'all, an' we wouldn't want y'all ta be anythin' other than content with the way yo' life's goin' right now. We don't even mind if we never see y'all again as long as ya get the girl yo' after.”
Braeburn smiled softly in reply. “Ya know what, Meadow,” he decided, “yo' right. Ah guess it really is time fo' me ta move on with mah life – an' Ah know exactly where Ah'm gonna be movin' to.”
“Ponyville?”
“You bet!”
Meadow Song chuckled, and patted his friend's withers in encouragement. “Go get 'em, buddy!”
“But first,” pointed out Braeburn promptly, “there's a few things Ah need ta do before Ah leave mah ol' roots behind – namely, get mah ticket an' run the whole she-bang past Applejack an' mah Pop.”
“An' the boss, I take it?” added Meadow Song.
Braeburn chuckled. “Well, of course Ah am! Ain't y'all forgotten that Pop is 'the boss'?!”
The terracotta Earth stallion looked away sheepishly, and Braeburn cantered off to find a loaded apple cart, still laughing at Meadow Song's blunder. Just like him to forget who was in charge here, he thought!