//------------------------------// // Evening // Story: Apple Honey's Perfectly Ordinary Day // by Admiral Biscuit //------------------------------// Apple Honey’s Perfectly Ordinary Day Chapter 3: Evening “I don't get it,” True Blue said as Apple Honey started putting her harness on. “We've gotten wagons stuck on the farm before, and it's usually not that hard to get them out—they'll probably have it out before we get there. Unless everypony's standing around drinking and talking about it instead of doing something.” She made a face. “Our farmhooves do that all the time.” “What do you do when you get a wagon stuck?” “First, we unload it, to make it lighter. Most of the time, that's all it takes.” “Yeah, that's a good starting point. You can leave the breeching strap off—I'll be taking my stone-boat out there, and I sure won't need it for the fire engine. So what happens if you can't unload the wagon?” 'You mean like if it's full of barrels or something and we don't have a ramp? We just . . . oh.” “The only way they can make the fire engine lighter is if they dump all the water, and they can't do that unless the boiler's all the way out.” She grimaced. “I wouldn't want to be in the chief's shoes right now.” She looked up at a weather pegasus flying northeast, pushing a raincloud. “No rain scheduled for today . . . I bet they're bringing extra water, and maybe stocking some rainclouds around town, just in case. That's going to mess up the weather schedule. “I wish somepony in town had a donkey engine.” She glanced at the collection of ropes and pulleys in her market cart. The load was light enough for a filly to pull—which was a good thing. She hadn't told Blue about that task yet. She'd figure it out on her own. “It'd probably get stuck, too.” Blue looked at the market cart, slow comprehension dawning in her eyes. “The stone-boat won't fit in that cart, will it?” “Nope.” Blue sighed. “I wish I had a proper harness, instead of just a breastcollar harness.” “You're still a growing filly,” Apple Honey reminded her. “That's all you need right now. When you're bigger—“ “Yeah, yeah.” She unenthusiastically pulled her harness off its peg and began climbing into it. Apple Honey helped her fasten the straps, then hooked her to the market wagon. She'd already checked the balance when she loaded it, but she still took the time to lift up on the shafts to make sure that the proper amount of weight was carried by the backstrap. Too much, and Blue would wear herself out; too little, and she risked being yanked off her hooves by the wagon. It was much simpler to hook up to the stone-boat—instead of rigid shafts, a pair of chains were attached to the front of each runner, and it tracked far enough behind her she could easily clip them on herself. She had to unhook herself to close the front door of the shop, but it was only a moment's work before it was trailing behind her again. “What do you want the stone-boat for, anyway?” Blue asked as they made their way through town. “Two reasons: We'll be in a field, so if we need to hook up pulleys, we'll need something to anchor them to. We can load it with rocks once we get there, for weight.” “Won't that make it sink in the mud?” “Hopefully. The deeper it sinks, the more firmly anchored it will be.” She glanced over at Blue, and took the opportunity to make sure that her apprentice's harness was riding correctly. “Even if we don't need it for that, it might be easier to pull the fire engine out if we can get the wheels up on a couple of stone-boats.” “Because . . . because once it's out of the mire, it will still want to sink in the mud.” “Yeah. I hope we don't have to do either, but I'd rather have it and not need it than have to go all the way back in town for it.” •        •        • Pepperdance's farm was buzzing with activity. Apple Honey took the lead, dragging her stone-boat under the archway and around the house, with Blue right on her tail. Even if she hadn't known the layout of the farm, it would not have been any trouble to find where their task was. The job of freeing the stuck fire engine had turned into an impromptu party, with all of Pepperdance's neighbors and kinfolk along to help. A hay wagon had been turned into a makeshift banquet table—one end was covered with food, while the other held the promised bottles of ale. Heather Rose was standing by them, making certain nopony opened a celebratory bottle until after the fire engine was extracted. The fire engine itself was being attended to by a pair of glum-looking volunteer fireponies. Both of them had shovels and were attempting to dig a sloping trench in front of the wagon. No doubt they imagined that they could hitch up to it and pull it out forward. Judging by the muddy soil sloughing off their shovels, that was a fool's hope. The coils of rope attached to eveners told the story well enough—they'd probably managed to shift it forward a few ponylengths, but they'd be there until Hearth's Warming if they thought they could get it out that way. The land sloped slightly down, so all the ground in front of it would be saturated. Besides, everypony knew that the best way to pull a wagon out was to reverse the course it had taken to get stuck. It seemed more difficult, since wagons weren't meant to be pulled from behind, but it was always quicker in the long run. “I hope Pepperdance is willing to treat everypony to a trip to the spa once the engine’s out,” Apple Honey muttered. “Go ahead and pull your wagon around to Pepper's shed, then get unhitched. It'll be out of the way there, and it'll keep the blocks and ropes close to hoof. We're going to want to stretch a pair of lines to the back axle. “You two.” She motioned to the fireponies. “Might as well stop digging—you're never going to get it out that way. Is the fire still up in the engine?” “Yeah.” The bigger stallion wiped his brow and looked at her. “Chief said to keep it up, 'cause it takes hours to cool down.” “How stable is it?” “It's not. Boiler makes it top-heavy. The water tank helps weigh it down, but it can get sloshy, especially when it's low.” “Alright.” The downside of extracting a wagon from a field was that there wasn't anywhere to hook a block and tackle. In town, it wasn't so bad—there was always somepony who got her wagon stuck after a rainstorm, and Apple Honey could just tie off to the nearest house. She could appreciate how nopony standing around had wanted to take responsibility—if the engine tipped over, it might explode. They were all content to let the fire department take the lead, even if there were mares in the crowd who knew better. A lot of the older ponies in town still had a distrust of steam-powered equipment, and they'd passed that on to their offspring. The Lavender sisters in particular kept their distance, always with a wary eye in its direction. “Does anypony have a set of drags?” she asked, loudly enough that the crowd could hear her. "I do," Lavender August offered. "Back at my farm." "Could you get them please?" "Sure!" She rounded up her sisters, and the trio hurried off. “What good will those do?” True Blue waved a hoof at the wagon. “It doesn't need extra braking.” “They'll add a bit of surface area to the wheels, maybe enough to get it free,” Apple Honey explained. “I'm not sure we'll actually need them, but they might come in handy. “You there.” She pointed to the bigger firepony. With his helmet and turnout coat on, she didn't recognize him, and the pervasive stink of burned compost masked his scent. “Get your shovel and dig under the engine far enough to clear the bottom of the boiler. We're going to pull it out backwards.” “Front wheels will turn sideways and tip it,” he protested. “Once you start pulling—that's why it's got to come out forwards.” “I've got a plan,” she told him. “Blue, start getting out the rope and threading it through blocks. Hook 'em to an extra doubletree; we’ll hitch everypony to that.” She took a quick glance around the field. “Figure . . . twelve ponies pulling. I'll drag my stone-boat about there, and we'll nose it into the ground and start piling on rocks.” •        •        • It took about an hour to widen the ruts, set boards down in them, and get the rear end of the wagon shoveled free enough to get the ropes set up. By then, all the ponies standing around had gotten into their harnesses, and while there was a fair bit of jostling for position, she'd finally managed to wrangle everypony into her spot, making sure to keep the Lavenders at the front of the team where they'd feel safer. She and Blue went around checking all the fasteners. It was a bit of a gamble on the eveners, but she had a pretty good idea who the strong mares in town were. The two fireponies were harnessed to the tongue of the engine, facing backwards. They'd ensure that the front axle didn't pivot and tip the whole thing over. She probably could have gotten better use out of the big stallion, but it was his fault that the thing was stuck to begin with. A set of tackles was chained to the doubletree Pepperdance had provided, which in turn was attached to the firmly anchored stone-boat. A second set was short-chained to the axle of the fire engine. That would quadruple the pulling power, although everypony would be halfway across the field by the time the engine got to solid ground—if it did. Apple Honey's stomach growled at her. Normally she'd be at the Prancing Pony, gossiping over dinner with all her kinfolk and fretting over Apple Leaves' youngest. Instead, here she was, coated from fetlocks to poll in mud and sweat. “On my call,” she shouted. “Pull until I say stop. Don't let up, especially when it starts to get easy. Don't let the ropes slack out. If we do it right, we can have this thing out in one tug. If we don't, we're going to have to get some unicorns to lift it.” She waited until the discontented muttering had died down. The very idea of needing unicorns to pull a wagon loose was practically a mortal insult, and it had the intended effect. “Start slow,” she advised. “Get the stretch out of the rope first, then give it all you've got.” “Will this work?” Blue asked quietly. “Yes.” She checked the scene one more time, making sure that all the ropes were free and that there weren't any obstacles in anypony's path. “Now! Pull!” The ropes jerked tight, springing up slightly then settling back down. As the fibers compressed, muddy water dribbled out. She glanced up at the dozen farmponies—all of them had their heads down and hooves dug into the soft soil. It was going to take Pepperdance a couple days of hard work to level her field again, but that couldn’t be helped. For a heart-stopping second, she thought it wasn't going to work. She saw a clod of earth get kicked up as Heather Rose's hind hoof slipped, and the mare struggled to get her balance back without slacking any of the chains that tied them all together. Then the wheels of the fire engine began to turn, slowly at first, their spokes dragging on the loose mud at the sides of the rut. They didn't have any bite, not yet. The bottom of the boiler was digging into the loose earth, scraping up a small wave of dirt around its circumference. The wagon moved a few feet, rising slightly as it hit the boards they'd placed in the ruts, then sinking back down as it drove the ends of the wood under the mud. She was glad that nopony was looking back—they might have lost heart. She'd been expecting that to happen—the saturated ground had let its water out in the ruts, and softened them even more than they had been when the wagon first got stuck. A few feet later, the fire engine began to rise again, leaning slightly to the right. Her biggest fear now was that it would drop on one side and tip over, but as it came further and further out of the ground, it began to level. “More! Keep pulling!” she shouted. Already, the team had moved a fair distance down the field, and the gap only widened as the engine kept coming. She watched the ever decreasing distance between the doubletree and the axle. If her calculations were wrong, it wouldn't be on solid ground before the two met. Even if it made it all the way out, she wanted to get as much distance as they could between the fire engine and the sloping ground. Ideally, there would be enough room that the fireponies could pull it forward and away, but a quick estimate of the rope remaining told her that that was just a pipe dream. “Whoa!” Right towards the end, as the load had lightened, the rope had fed through the blocks with frightening speed. The smaller firepony stopped faster than the dozen pulling from the other end and was dragged off his hooves; his partner dug in and helped bring the engine to a stop. The ropes went slack, then tightened again as the fire engine tried to roll back into the hole it had just come out of. “Stand where you are,” Apple Honey shouted at the farmponies. “Don't let it slide back.” She hurried over to the engine and looped the drop chains around the spokes, then hooked them securely into the ringbolts. When she was sure the engine wasn't going to go anywhere, she let the pulling ponies put slack in the line, and went with True Blue to help them unhook. Everything had gone so well so far, and she didn't want the night to end with somepony being taken to the hospital because she'd tripped over a chain. •        •        • Spirits were high after everypony had gotten unhooked.  One by one, the farmponies went over to the wagon, but they all waited until Apple Honey came over to break into the ale.  They let her have the first bottle, then pressed the second into True Blue’s hooves. Unnoticed by everypony, the fire stallions slunk off, their muddy fire engine in tow. “I don’t think I can finish this,” Blue said, setting her half-empty bottle back on the wagon.  “Heather Rose won’t be mad if I don’t, will she?” “She won’t mind,” Apple Honey assured her.  “How late can you stay out?” “Well. . . .”  The filly looked around uncertainly.  “Mom’ll be kind of mad that I missed dinner, but since it was for work it’ll be okay.  I don’t think she’ll be happy if I stay out partying with the big ponies, though.” “Grab a bite to eat,” Apple Honey advised.  “Try some of the pepper soup—it’s really good.  It’ll fill your tummy.” “We’ll have to pick up all the ropes and stuff when we’re done eating, won’t we?” “Yeah.” “Do you think anypony will help?” Apple Honey looked around at the clusters of drinking and gossiping ponies.  “Once we’re done eating, yeah.  I’ll round everypony up, and we’ll get everything put back in the market wagon.  Then we can all rinse off in the pond, and you can take the wagon back to town and head home.  Just leave it in front of the shop: I’ll put it away when I get back.” •        •        • Finally back at the shop, she slid the door open and dragged her stone-boat inside. It would have been easier to leave it in the middle of the floor, but if she did, she'd have to put on her harness first thing in the morning to move it. It was easier to do it now. She did leave the market wagon inside—it wasn't that difficult to push along with her snout. Regrettably, it was going to leave a fair bit of mud on her floor, but that could be swept up in the morning, after she'd rinsed off the ropes and the tackles. One of the nicest things about summer was that even after her late day, it was still light out. In the winter, there were days where she finished work by lamplight, although she did work a lot of half-days then. There wasn't much call to repair farm equipment when the fallow fields were under chest-deep snow. A few smart farmers had all their tools repaired then, since they could do without them, but most of her clientele wasn't as interested in preventative maintenance as they should have been. Spring and fall were hectic . . . but summer was just the right blend of steady, with a reasonable amount of free time. On her desk, the beehive was still where she'd left it. It would keep until the morning, she decided. It was too late for Bumblesweet to set it up now, and besides, she was getting such a good deal on the thing, she could wait an extra day. She covered a yawn with her forehoof, and decided that she was officially done with work for the day, and could move on to her evening chores. Out in her yard, she leaned down and tried to nuzzle Tom as he twined around her legs, but this time, he was too quick for her, and all she got was a nose full of fluffy tail, then he was off, making his evening circuit of the perimeter. Apple Honey worked her way through the kaleyard, tugging up every weed she came across. There weren't many—she paid close attention to her garden. Behind her, the chickens pecked at the newly-uncovered earth, searching for any fresh bugs she'd revealed. Before she'd gotten Tom, she'd had to herd the chickens back in their coop for the night, but now she could just leave them out without fear of predation. They'd go back to their roost when they felt like it, and she was sure they were happier if a pony didn't impose a schedule on them. Satisfied that her day's work was truly done, she walked over to the side of her shed, where a showerhead was mounted above a stone-flagged patio. The dip in the pond at Pepperdance's had rinsed off the worst of the mud, but she wasn't properly clean, and she aimed to fix that before she retired for the night. A stallion had sold it to her a few years back, claiming that it would save her a bunch of bits at the spa, and he was right. Now she only visited once a week, except in the winter, of course. Like most farm mares, she got cleaned up at the end of day—while unicorns felt it was proper to bathe at the start of the day, they never worked up a sweat like an honest earth pony would. She opened the valve and stepped into the water immediately—it was better to do it that way, rather than move in slowly. Tom watched her from a safe distance, confused at why she would willingly get herself wet. To drive home his philosophy, when she lifted a hoof to rinse the mud off, he raised his own paw, licked it, and rubbed it across his forehead, then glanced back at her to make sure she got the message. Once she'd washed the sweat and mud out of her coat, she lifted each hoof and cleaned them with a stiff brush and a hoof knife, making sure to get all the dirt out of the crevices around her shoe and frog. That also gave her a chance to inspect her shoe nails. She shut off the shower and shook herself off, then headed inside for the night with the pleasant feeling of a day well spent. She could spend an hour in the little nook off her kitchen reading a chapter of The Mystery of the Manehattan Musical Mare Mixup, which would give her mane and coat time to dry, and then head upstairs to bed. Get a good night's sleep, and she’d be ready for another perfectly ordinary day.