//------------------------------//
// Dynamite Dust 
// Story: Adventures in Apple-achia 
// by Cold Cuts the batpony 
//------------------------------//

It was midday when I awoke to the smell of burning wood and boiling coffee. I whipped my head around to see a fire, well made and smokeless, with a pot of coffee on it.  Next to the fire was an earth pony in a battered hat and sweat stained duster.

"Up and attum sunshine, coffee’s ready," he said ignoring the rifle bore trained on his skull, "that was quite a stunt you pulled last night, not many folks can escape from Dirty Dan that narrowly.  Watched the whole thing from the next room."

"Who are you?" I asked.

"Some call me Smithers, some call me call Det.  Folks what know me call me Dusty."

I let the rifle relax a little, “and what business do you have with me?”

"Well seems you and I have a common enemy in Mr. Dan.  See it was actually me that he was after last night, I just paid off the barkeep to throw you to him instead, thought he might like that fancy piece of yours."  My brow furrowed, "Don’t get in a toot over it, it was just chance that you two had a history together, a chance that worked in my favor."  Dusty poured the coffee, "Are you gonna come down from there or what?" He said looking up at me.

I eased myself from the limb I had been straddling, the stiffness in my wing screaming for attention.  When I reached the ground, Dusty placed a cup in front of me, "so what’s the plan?" he inquired."What do you mean?" I grunted into my cup."Seems as though you two had something at one point and now he wants something back."

"And I fail to see how this concerns you," I said, scowling, the coffee tasted like dust.

"Simply put, it’s a matter of common interest, I want him gone, you want him gone, enemies of enemies and all that nonsense."

I pondered for a moment, it would be nice to have Dan off my tail and to have an ally, a luxury I hadn’t afforded in awhile.

"So what exactly is your history with him anyway?" Dusty asked, "I heard him call you something back there, but I didn’t hear what."

"He called me the Longest Shot in the West," I replied, "that’s my talent, I make long shots."  I reached down and rubbed my rifle, "This is a Shiloh Sharps, 45-70.  I can reach out and knock the whiskers off your chin from 300 yards and I could probably do it without drawing blood at 400, and I can group my shots in the diameter of one bit at 500.  Farther than that and there’s no power left behind the slug."

Dusty let out a long low whistle, "That’s something alright, so I suppose you’d cover for him and his crew while they did a job, am I wrong?"

"No."

"Then what ticked him off?"

"We were working a train job, and the cargo fell out of the car at the designated point. But none of the rest of the crew got off with it, I waited for a day and no one showed up, so I took it," I took it an oil stained cloth and began to polish my rifle, "He showed up a month later and wanted his cut. I told him it was gone. I didn’t have it no more."

"And did you?" Dusty inquired chewing on the end of a straw.

"No!" I paused in my work, "I may not be a saint but I’m honest," I set back to work, "I gave it to my parents. They need it.  Though as far as Dan knows, they’re dead," I paused again, "and as far as they know I am."  It was quiet a moment.

"Well I don’t mean to interrupt your sob story, it’s quite a tear jerker, I assure you," there was no conviction in his voice as he made that statement, "but exactly how much was this ‘cargo’ worth?"

"10,000 bits," I said nonchalantly, knowing the reaction it would illicit.

"Pffffftt!" Coffee sprayed everywhere, undoing my cleaning job.  "10,000!  And you just gave it away.  No saint indeed…"

"I didn’t say I gave it all away," I glowered as I wiped down the barrel again, "just most of it, the rest went to paying off old gambling debts which is why I took up with Dan to begin with."

"You had gambling debts?" He asked amused.

"Do you see a playing card on this flank?" I shot back, "besides, what do you do anyways?"

"Little ole me?"  Dusty pouted with mock innocence.  He pulled aside the edge of his duster to reveal a stick of dynamite branded on his flank, "Why I’m just a simple blasting pony for Money Bags Mining Corp." He said with a wicked grin.  The look in his eye sent a chill down my spine but it passed.

"I can see why Dan would want the likes of you around," I grunted, "why use surgical precision, when you can just blow it all to tartarus?"

"Now, now," Dusty chuckled rocking back on his hindquarters, "no need to make it personal like."

I put my rifle away, "Regardless of whether it's personal, we are still sitting on square one.  What does Dan even want with you?"

"Well, remember you and your cargo?  Well one time Dan shorted me on my cut so I added a few little presents to his stockpile, and they kinda scattered it around in little smoldering pieces," he said with a wicked grin. 

"Fair enough," I replied, "but before we can do anything, I need to get my wing looked at."  The joint still ached with a dull throb, "I know a place to get it looked at."

With that we smothered the fire and gathered our respective satchels.  I eyed Dusty's a little leery of its contents.  Dusty caught my gaze.

"Don't you fret your pretty little head, ain't nothing gonna pop without my say so," he chuckled with that trademark wicked grin.  I harrumphed and we moved on our way.