Sunday
I found out about ten-thirty in the morning on Sunday.
I hadn’t long opened up the front door when into the pub strolled two lanky unicorns with slick manes, straw hats and blue-and-white striped shirts, and who looked like they could charm the fleece off a sheep. “Ah, why hello there my good fellow!” one called out to me, and then both of them were sidling up to the bar.
“Flim?” I acknowledged with a nod. “What brings you back to Ponyville? Again.”
I’m careful around them, but I don’t really have a problem with Flim and Flam the way some do. Largely because I haven’t yet decided whether they’re optimistic but terribly misguided entrepreneurs, or whether there’s a genuine streak of malice to their wheeling and dealing. I know most of the town has made up its mind, but from my point of view some of the stuff they’ve actually made is quite good, let down by what I would term as, ‘a series of errors in marketing strategy’. So until I’ve seen something that convinces me one-way or the other, I’ll remain civil and reserve judgment.
Ah, actually, speaking of things they’ve made in the past...
I turned away from them just as they reached the bar. Flim even had his mouth open ready to... ‘speak’ is the wrong word I think. ‘Pitch’ would be more apt. I used my magic to open a dusty glass jar I’ve had stored on the top shelf for a while now. It contained a single piece of paper – a small rectangle folded in half. I took it out and levitated it to Flim. Whatever he was about to say, his curiosity overpowered him.
“What’s this?”
“A cheque,” I said, and saw both his and his brother’s eyes gleam greedily. Sure enough when they unfolded it it was a cheque from the First Bank of Canterlot for a sum of not-inconsequential amount.
“You left a whole mess behind when you skedaddled the first time you rolled into town,” I explained. “Including about thirty barrels of actual, drinkable cider. It had to go somewhere so the mayor let me sell it. Not as good as the hoof-pressed stuff I usually get from the farm, you understand, but not bad actually, aside from a noticeable metallic aftertaste. So, that there is your share.”
Flim continued to look greedily at the cheque in his aura, while his brother turned his gaze towards me. “Our share, you say?”
“Don’t start with me,” I warned. “You abandoned it. The town could have claimed it as salvage. I sold it, so I took fifteen percent. Town tax is ten. And the Mayor awarded the Apple family forty since it was their apples you used, and to cover the damage you caused to their fields and the fact that technically you were renting their land when you made it and when they agreed to store it. The rest is yours. Unless you don’t want it?”
“No no, that’s uh... quite acceptable,” said Flim. “Right, brother o’ mine?”
“Right. You know, maybe we should get back into the cider game, Flim. The machine still works, and as I recall, we won that contest. Rights to exclusive cider production in Ponyville with our new partner here?”
“Uh... not quite,” I said, and started rooting around under the counter. “Because everything else you left behind... where is it– Ah! Here we go, I knew I had a copy. The Mayor asked me to make this.” I unfolded the new piece of paper I’d found. “Ahem. ‘I, Single Measure, senior member of the Equestrian Society of Publicans and Brewers, say as follows. Today, the... yadda yadda yadda... have tasted three random samples from the barrels labelled FF-59, FF-62, and FF-86. In all three cases my professional opinion is that the liquid in question does not possess any of the characteristics of any known beverage and should not be considered fit for equine consumption.’” I looked up from the paper. “Basically, whatever was in those remaining barrels wasn’t cider, which means technically, after a re-count, you lost. It’s a shame you didn’t come to see me the last time you were here either, or you’d have had that cheque sooner and we could have talked about that juice you were peddling.”
“Ah, the Flim Flam Miracle Curative Tonic!” exclaimed Flim.
“Out of stock, I’m afraid,” admitted Flam.
“I tried some,” I said. “It was pretty good. Apples and beets, if I’m not mistaken? I’d have stocked it. I could have been giving you two cheques right now if you’d just changed the label to what it actually was and got rid of the song-and-dance routine.” A series of errors in marketing strategy. “Anyway, back to my first question: what are you here selling this time?”
“Selling?” said Flim, apparently shocked and already I could sense the subtle shift into sales-pitch territory. “Why, we’re here because we’ve heard the whole town is looking for its dear, missing Applejack, of course!”
“If only there were some way we could help, brother!”
“If only, Flam. But it’s been so long since she went missing, I’m beginning to forget what she even looks like! How would I even know if I’d found her?!”
“Worry not, brother of mine, I’ve got just the thing!” Flam cried and opened one of his saddlebags – the same blue-and-white design as their shirts, and I hadn’t noticed he’d been wearing it at first – and from it levitated a wide, rolled piece of paper that he unfurled into a fairly professional-looking glossy poster of a smiling Applejack. “Now you’re absolutely guaranteed not to mistake her for any other pony on the street!”
“Egads, Flam, that’s absolutely indispensable!”
“Indistinguishable!”
“Inexpensive!”
“For you see...”
From somewhere carnival music began to play, and I could see and hear the tell-tale signs that a musical number was being cued up. I held up a hoof to cut it short. I suppose it’s easier for me to deal with these two than it is for most other ponies because their bamboozling tactics don’t work on me. I’ve seen it all before, in other places from other slick business ponies. I know the game very well even if I don’t play it. “Folks, leaving aside that this is less altruism and more ‘cynical attempt to cash in’, you’re a little late. The search has kind of wound down.”
“Oh, no! Horror of horrors, brother of mine! We’re too late,” cried Flim. “How ever will we remind ourselves of this town’s poor, long-lost friend who ill-deserves to be forgotten?”
“Alas, dear brother, it’s a sad day indeed, but take this I pray, and use it to rekindle your memories and gladden your heart,” said Flam, undoing the opposite flap on his saddlebags now, and levitating another piece of rolled paper. When unfurled it was a similar Applejack poster, identical to the first save for the addition of the words, In Loving Memory scrawled in calligraphy across the top. He placed it on the bar directly in front of me.
I stared at it and felt my jaw drop.
“With our handy stencils we can personalise each and every poster! And with this quaint tavern having served as the base for all of the search efforts so far, where better to—?”
“Gents,” I said, cutting them off. I took a deep breath. I wasn’t angry, just... disappointed as I looked to them again, sadly now. “I’m sorry. There’s a part of me that wants to believe you’ve done this out of some kind of latent respect, and that you’ve twisted it into this by accident. Far be it from me to go interfering in other ponies’ businesses but... this is pretty low. I... I even think you might have crossed a line,” I said, still half-amazed. “I’m sorry but I think I’m going to ask you to leave. And if you take my advice, you’ll keep those hidden until you reach the edge of town and then you’ll burn them. If anyone sees you with them... I just don’t think it’ll end well. This town’s not ready to believe she’s not coming back.”
At that moment Silver Lining trotted in through the front door, an hour earlier than usual to start the lunchtime shift. She initially had a strange smile on her face, more overjoyed than even her regular happy grin but when she spied the two smooth-talking unicorns conversing with me at the bar it fell away and she eyed them suspiciously. “Hi boss,” she said to me without taking her eyes off the brothers. “What are they doing here?”
Silver already has her mind made up about Flim and Flam and doesn’t understand my sympathy. Neither does Waldorf, and I can only suppose that it’s actually being in business for myself that gives me a slightly more accommodating outlook towards them. It can be tough to make a living on your own sometimes. But nopony should set out to make a living like this.
“Flim and Flam have approached me with a business proposal that I’ve chosen to decline. They were just leaving,” I explained, though it sounded like I was trying to justify myself to her more than anything.
“Good. Wait, what kind of business proposal?” she asked with more suspicion, before catching sight of the unfurled In Loving Memory poster on the bar.
What happened next, I didn’t expect.
I thought Silver would gawp like I had, or gasp in shock. Then I felt sure she’d launch into an unprofessional but eminently justified tirade against the two brothers before chasing them out of the inn – maybe even out of town! – before she returned to tell me how disappointed she was in me for even entertaining them here.
Instead she took a long glance at the mawkish memorial poster and burst out laughing! “Oh yeah!” she guffawed. “Go ahead! See how many of those you can sell!”
“Silver? Are you alright?” I asked, a little freaked out.
Silver stopped laughing long enough to wipe a tear away and look at me with a genuinely happy smile. “She’s back boss! The whole town is talking about it! She came wandering out of the Everfree this morning with Zecora. She’s at home right now with her family.”
“You’ve seen her?” I asked, shocked.
“No, but Rose has and so has Cheerilee, and I know they wouldn’t be making it up! They just told me and I came straight here to tell you. She’s back, boss, and she’s safe!” She turned a triumphant grin on the two oily brothers. “So go ahead, you goofs, go out there and see how many of those posters you can sell! Get!”
“Alas, market forces conspire against us once again, dear brother,” said Flam.
“There’s no demand for our supply. On to the next venture?”
“Indeed! Somewhere else, perhaps?”
“Indubitably.”
And with that they were trotting quickly for the door and in a moment they were gone.
* * *
Lunchtime came and was hugely busy, as it always is on a Sunday. The inn bustled with lively ponies who all had smiles on their faces the like of which I hadn’t seen in days. A great deal of noisy chatter filled the room, but there was only one topic of conversation.
I caught a few snippets from half-overheard dialogue but not enough to piece together everything that had happened, mainly because most folks didn’t know themselves. All anypony seemed to know at this early stage was that apparently Applejack had been in the Everfree since she vanished and had come out unscathed. And as far as most folks were concerned that was that. It was like a lightswitch had been flipped: Applejack was missing, but now she was back and she was okay. There was a sense of relief, but once that had passed the consensus was that everything was going to carry on as normal. And that was a good thing!
But darn if I wasn’t still curious. Unfortunately, I had to accept that I’d probably never know much more than most others about the whole affair so I forced myself to forget about it. All that mattered was that Applejack was back, her family would be relieved and her friends would be happy. The best result we could have hoped for. Why not?
* * *
Sunday is always a quiet evening in the Roses. By the time the sun had gone down and twilight had begun to stalk the streets I had two customers left in, and it was past the point of the evening where I’d normally expect any more. Two stallions were chattering over pints of ale in the far right corner, and aside from that the only other pony in the room was me, wrestling with five-across on the crossword – A pony shouts in anger, to stoke the fire perhaps? (7) – until someone deigned to call out another drink order.
When Applejack walked in it was a surprise.
She slipped in quietly but it wouldn’t have mattered how busy the bar was, I wouldn’t have failed to spot her. For a moment I felt a scowl upon my brow and the temptation to holler, ‘Where the hell have you been!?’ was so strong as to be palpable.
I managed to restrain myself but she must have picked up on my mood for she approached the bar cautiously. “Uh... howdy, Single. You still servin’?”
I bit my tongue, hard. “What’re you after?” I asked.
“Mug o’ cider, if’n you’d be so kind,” she said, pulling herself onto a bar stool. Her voice was tired and she had a weary expression, similar to ones I’d been seeing all week.
I dutifully began to pour her her drink but I realised that I wasn’t going to be able to hold back. I’m just the bartender – I’m not supposed to pry or gossip, especially where I’ve no business being – but as I pulled on the cider-pump I couldn’t stop myself. I had to know.
“Applejack... where’ve you been?” I heard myself ask.
My question was met with a heavy sigh and a look of simple lethargy. “You mind if I don’t? It’s a story I’ve been tellin’ all day, an’ it’s startin’ to get tirin’ repeating it all the time. I dunno what folks were expectin’ but it really ain’t as interestin’ as all that.”
I bit my tongue again and finished pouring her drink, putting it on the bar in front of her. As I did so, Applejack dug out a full coin purse with her teeth and plonked it on the counter.
“What’s that for?” I asked.
“I came to settle up with ya. For the room you gave me,” she said. “How much you need?”
“I said at the time it was free for you.”
“I know, I remember. But... don’t feel right me takin’ your hospitality from ya like that. ‘Specially after the state I only got myself into. I meant to come back an’ make things right with ya the next day. I wasn’t really expectin’...” She trailed off, and when she glanced up she caught me giving her my best ‘go on,’ expression as I nudged the coin purse back towards her. “That’s the deal, huh?” she said.
“That’s the deal,” I confirmed.
Applejack undid the purse and tossed two bits into the charity jar for her cider. “Alright, but I reckon you’ll be disappointed. Like I said, it ain’t an interestin’ story.”
She took a sip of her cider and replaced the mug carefully on the bar. “I woke up at sunrise on Monday mornin’ with the most rotten headache I reckon I’ve ever had. I dunno what kinda whiskey that was, Single, but it sure didn’t agree with me...”
“Sure, blame the whiskey, not the half-gallon of cider you’d put into yourself...” I said with a smirk.
“You gonna listen or are you gonna smart-alec everythin’?”
“Sorry.”
She sighed. “Twilight’s always goin’ on about this amazin’ tea that Zecora makes. Clears her head, perks her up, makes her focus. I figured that was just the kind of thing I needed, so I decided I’d go ask for some. Like a dummy, I wandered into the Everfree with a head full o’ cobwebs.” She took another sip of cider. “You ever hear of a plant called Poison Joke?”
I shook my head. My knowledge of botany is pretty much limited to barley, hops, grapes and other plants that you can distill. I can’t ever envisage wanting to make a drink out of a plant called ‘poison’ anything.
“It’s a weird blue flower that grows in the forest there,” continued Applejack. “Has all kinds of different effects on ponies. With me... well it makes me short.”
“Short?”
“This big,” she said, holding one hoof about two inches above the counter-top.
I raised my eyebrows. Had anypony else been telling me this I’d have called it out as a lie. “What, you shrink? Bones, hair, eyes, the food in your belly, everything? How’s that possible?”
“Magic.”
“Oh.”
“It’s supposed to be funny.”
“Doesn’t sound funny.”
“Nope. Anyway, between my head feeling like cotton and me not lookin’ where I was goin’ I got myself a little lost and wandered right into a big ol’ patch of the stuff. And then about ten minutes later, things around me started gettin’ awfully big.” She shook her head a little. “I guess I should’a started back to Ponyville soon as I realised, but I was near enough halfway I reckoned, and I got it into my stubborn head that I was goin’ to Zecora’s so that’s where I was headed, and no magic flower was gonna say otherwise. Thing is... it’s a heck of a lot further when you’re tiny. And when every big puddle is a lake you gotta go round and every patch of grass is a forest you gotta get through it takes a lot longer too. Days.” She sighed again and sipped. “Timberwolves picked up my scent on the Wednesday, but they were lookin’ for a full-sized pony and there’s lotsa places for a two-inch tall mare to hide. Huge lightning storm happened on Thursday night which I could’ve done without. Crossin’ the river on Friday... that was a challenge. I finally got to Zecora’s on Saturday evening and she told me Fluttershy had sent her a bird with a note askin’ if she’d seen me. She fixed me up one o’ her magic cure-all baths, I rested at her place and we came back together this mornin’. That’s all there is to it.”
I nodded slowly, though I had to disagree with her assertion that it wasn’t an interesting tale. If our respective experiences over this past week were to be written down in prose form, and I were asked to choose one to read, I know which story I’d pick.
“The whole town’s been worried about you. Your friends especially,” I said. “Do they know you’re all right? Have you seen them since you’ve been back?”
She nodded. “I’ve seen ‘em and we’ve done the group-hug thing. All except for Rainbow Dash,” she said. “I’ve been tryin’ to find her all day, but I reckon she’s avoidin’ me.”
“Avoiding you?” I said, ready to correct her.
There was a momentary uncertain pause, as though she were unsure whether she wanted to continue. In the end though she spoke up again. “See... the two of us got into a disagreement last week,” she said. “We started arguin’ with each other, like we do from time to time, but it kinda turned into a shoutin’ match. And then... then she said somethin’ that really hurt.” She took a slow sip of her drink. “She didn’t mean it to, I know she didn’t. It just... came out wrong, I think, like an accident more than anything. I wasn’t angry at her, not even for a second, but even though she didn’t mean it... it hit me hard, y’know? It upset me somethin’ powerful and I couldn’t pretend otherwise. I had to walk away, just... be by myself for a bit, but... I couldn’t stop thinkin’ about it. It got stuck up in my brain like a barnacle and wouldn’t let go. So I came here to see if I could prise it loose with some cider. I guess you know the rest.”
“Rainbow Dash... she’s been trying to find you all week,” I said. “Desperately.”
“I know. Fluttershy told me, but I just can’t seem to set eyes on her. I dunno if she’s ashamed or she thinks I’m mad at her or what. I just want my friend back, but if she don’t feel like she can talk to me yet, I don’t wanna push it.”
“If I see her, I’ll tell her you’re looking for her?”
“Thanks.” She drained the last drops from her mug and replaced it on the bar. “Reckon I need to use the lil’ fillies room. You mind?”
“That’s what it’s there for.”
She dropped down off her bar stool and headed through the door into the hallway.
Her timing couldn’t have been worse... or better depending on one’s perspective... because a few seconds after the door had closed behind her, Rainbow Dash walked in.
She still looked as tired as when I’d seen her yesterday, but she wasn’t quite as wobbly on her hooves. She hauled herself onto the same bar stool that she’d used the previous few times she’d been in. “Hey bar-guy. Can I get a drink?”
I stood there, not moving, not sure where to start. When I failed to respond she put on a little scowl for me. “Hey, I brought bits today, alright?”
“Rainbow... you do know, don’t you?” I said.
She sighed. “About Applejack? Yeah, I heard.”
“Then... why haven’t you talked to her?!” I asked, officially crossing the line into ‘interfering with other ponies’ lives’ and not caring.
“Hey! It’s not that simple, okay!” she shot. Her gaze fell to the bar. “It’s just... I had it in my head that I was gonna find her and bring her back and if I did that we’d be cool, right? Cuz I’d have showed her I was trying to make up for what I did. But now she’s come back on her own, and suddenly I can’t be the pony who helped her when she needed it, all I am is the pony that hurt her real bad in the first place. I just... can’t figure out how to start that conversation. Maybe, ‘Hey Applejack, sorry I totally upset you and made you leave town, let’s go back to being friends, ‘kay?’”
“It wasn’t like that, and she doesn’t care that you said whatever it was you said to her. She needs to talk to you.”
“You spoke to her?”
“Rainbow, she’s here.” I said.
Rainbow’s eyes widened in shock and fear and she snapped her head around to look at the rest of the bar. But she saw only my other two customers in the corner and looked back at me with a confused, raised eyebrow. “Uh... you do know who Applejack is, right?”
I brought a hoof to my face before finding the resolve to meet Rainbow’s gaze again. “She’s in the bathroom.”
Rainbow’s eyes found that look of subtle horror again, and her mouth hung open a little as she fixed her gaze on the door to my right. “Oh boy,” she whispered as the colour seemed to drain from her face. Her wingtips twitched, her breathing became shallower, and I could see her fight-or-flight instincts kicking in as the confrontation she’d clearly been avoiding all day threatened to pounce on her any second. For a moment she actually looked like she was about to bolt for the front door, but she turned back to me still looking worried. “Look... I’m really gonna need that drink.”
I turned and fetched a slim highball glass, plonked a couple of ice-cubes in, and filled it from a jug of clear liquid I keep behind the bar.
“What’s that?” she asked, giving the drink a suspicious sniff.
“That’s water.”
She frowned at me. “I’m gonna need something stronger than that.”
“No.”
“What?! Hey, I said I’ve got bits!”
“Doesn’t matter,” I said, and I leaned in closer to her and lowered my voice. “Rainbow, I know you. If I give you a drink right now it’ll hit you in ten seconds flat. You might think that’s a good thing, but any minute now you’re going to have to talk to Applejack. And when you do... when you say what you’ve gotta say to her... she deserves to know where it’s coming from. She needs to know you’re saying it because of what’s in your heart, not because of what’s gone to your head.”
Dash blinked a couple of times. “Wow...” she breathed.
“Yeah, I know,” I said.
“I mean... you’re like the worst bartender ever.”
“Too bad. I’m the only one you’ve got,” I said with a smirk.
“Rainbow?” came a surprised voice from the door. Applejack stepped through with a look of surprise.
And that was it. Time up. I took a couple of steps away from Rainbow Dash and tried to be interested in cleaning some shelves under the counter. Rainbow gazed at her friend, a look of controlled panic to her. “AJ?”
“I’ve been lookin’ everywhere for ya. Where’ve ya been?”
“Oh... just, here and there. Everywhere, really. You?”
“It’s a long story.”
“Oh. Okay. Fine.”
“Dash... ya look terrible. That ain’t... that ain’t because of me, is it?”
“Hey, I don’t see you winning any Miss Equestria contests either, you know.”
“I didn’t mean it like...” Applejack started. There was a hitch in her voice, as though she’d been about to say something then thought better of it. “Look... we don’t have to do this right now. Maybe I should just leave you be,” she said with obvious reluctance. She looked towards me and tugged the brim of her hat as a parting gesture, and turned for the door.
Rainbow Dash’s face blanched. She watched her friend turn away, preparing to go, and the thought of simply losing sight of her seemed to fill her with enough horror to spur her to action. Rainbow jumped down from the stool she was on and galloped towards Applejack, leapt at her and landed atop her back, wrapping her forelegs around Applejack’s neck in a tight, desperate hug. “Don’t go,” she said quietly.
“Huh?” said Applejack.
“Don’t go, don’t go, don’t go, don’t go!” whispered Dash frantically.
Applejack gave a smile and a little chuckle. “Okay, sugarcube,” she said, shifting her weight enough to encourage Rainbow to climb off her such that they ended up face-to-face, with Rainbow facing towards the door and Applejack facing the bar. “Take it easy. I ain’t goin’ nowhere,” she said softly. She looked over towards me behind the bar. “Single? Could ya maybe get us a couple o’ ciders?”
“No!” cried Rainbow Dash, to Applejack’s clear surprise. “I mean, wait. It’s just... there’s something I gotta say before that, okay?”
“Okay...?” said Applejack, confused.
Rainbow shuffled her hooves nervously for a second and then, finding some courage, reached forward and hugged Applejack again. Her forelegs circled Applejack’s neck tenderly but firmly, crossing over at her withers and she pressed her chest close. She closed her eyes and nuzzled into her friend’s neck and mane, and when she spoke it was with a whisper. What she said wasn’t meant for me to hear, but the room was deathly quiet and the sound did carry. It was only one word.
“Sorry.”
I saw a smile, and a tear came to Applejack’s eye. “Aw hay, sugarcube...” she said, and nuzzled back. “It’s okay. It’s all forgiven, alright?”
“I’m so sorry. I never meant—”
“I know, Dash. I know you didn’t.” Applejack returned her friend’s hug and they remained in a comfortable, happy embrace for a long, quiet moment. Eventually they released each other, both of them wiping moisture from their eyes. Applejack looked to me once again. “Uh... Single? Cider?”
I nodded, and set to work. Applejack took Rainbow Dash over to the same corner table she’d sat at last Sunday and I dutifully brought their order over to them. My other pair of customers were gone now, having left just as Applejack had come back in, and the two mares had the pub to themselves. I grabbed the discarded mugs the other two had abandoned on my way back to the bar and Rainbow and Applejack started talking, though quietly enough that I couldn’t hear most of what they were saying. I picked up snippets here and there and it seemed like Applejack was relating the full story of her adventures over the past week but I didn’t try to eavesdrop further.
“Hey! They did it!” came an enthusiastic voice from the corridor as I reached the counter. “Aw, they look so happy!”
I nearly jumped out of my skin. “Silver?!”
“Hi, boss!” She tip-hoofed around the door and under the bar-hatch to stand next to me and gaze at the two reunited friends.
“Silver, what are you doing here?”
“Cleaning the kitchen. There was a whole lot of gunk under one of the fridges that isn’t there anymore. You can thank me later.”
“I meant why are you here at all?” She’s only part-time and Sunday nights aren’t usually on her roster. Neither are they on Waldorf’s but I know he’s not here – it’s far too quiet back there. Usually, this time of the week, it’s only me in and we don’t tend to offer food, unless ponies are after the most basic of sandwiches even I can cobble together.
“I owed you a shift from last week,” answered Silver. “When you let me off to be part of the search, remember? Besides, I need the hours. I’ve got tuition to pay.”
I sighed and rolled my eyes. “You know you’re getting a bonus this month, right?” I deadpanned.
“I am? What for?”
“Just... generally being amazing,” I said.
“Careful boss,” she said with a smile. “If you’re going to start paying me based on how amazing I am you won’t be able to afford me for long.” She looked back over to the two content mares at their quiet corner table. Then she broke into a smile and gave a little intake of breath as she seemed to come to a snap decision. “I’m getting them ice-cream,” she announced, turning for the kitchen.
“You’re what?”
“I’m gonna bring them some ice-cream. If I’d been through what they’ve been through this past week, I'd need ice-cream, and Wally made five fresh tubs yesterday.”
“It’ll come out of your wages,” I said.
“Whatever you say, boss. But I think they deserve something nice, so I’m getting it for them anyway.” She gave me a sly look. “Besides, I’m not sure it will.”
“Oh? Why’s that?”
“Because you think they deserve it too.”
I sighed. Sometimes I forget how well she knows me. “Ice-cream,” I said, and she headed for the kitchen.
* * *
They talked for well over an hour, Applejack and Rainbow Dash, sharing a small mountain of Waldorf’s artisan vanilla and coffee-bean ice-cream – which he would likely horse-whip me for if he learned I’d given it away. Silver had cunningly taken it to them in a single large bowl with two spoons, which I thought was a nice touch. Aside from that though, I left them to it, my attention returning to the crossword until I was needed for another drink order. Five-across became Bellows, and the rest gradually filled out.
After a while it seemed Applejack finished her side of the story and Rainbow ended up talking, probably relating what had gone on in Ponyville over the past several days. I even caught Rainbow make mention of ‘bar-guy’ and heard Applejack use my name. When I glanced up instinctively I saw Applejack looking horrified at her friend, and then she looked at me. She got to her hooves and wandered over, a humble air about her. She pulled herself up onto the bar-stool opposite me. “Rainbow’s just been tellin’ me how when she was here the other day she drank through most of a bottle of ambrosia that she never paid you for?”
“Applejack... it’s not important,” I said.
“Yes it is. You’ve got a business to run and ambrosia ain’t cheap. How much does she owe ya? Fifty?”
“It’s not like I measured. At a guess, about thirty, rounding down. I’m not planning on hounding her for it.”
Applejack nodded, giving a moment’s pause. “If’n you’ll let me square things for her, I’m gonna give ya next month’s cider-barrel for free,” she said. “That sound okay?”
I blinked. There’s a sense of fair-play and then there’s this. “Applejack... no,” I said. “I can’t let you do that. Even offsetting what Rainbow Dash drank you’re still doing yourself out of over a hundred bits there!”
She waved away my objection. “Ain’t just the drink,” she said. “It’s all of it. It’s the room you gave me for nothin’, it’s gettin’ Dash safely home, it’s puttin’ up with Twilight and her guards rootin’ through your entire inn and even turfin’ yer own customers out to do it. It’s humourin’ my sister, it’s being there for Fluttershy, it’s lettin’ Pinkie Pie commandeer the whole place for a party-venue on one of your busiest nights of the week and it’s lettin’ the Roses become the dang headquarters of Operation Applesearch!” She took a breath. “Single... every pony I’ve talked to since I’ve been back – family, friends, everyone – they’ve all been tellin’ me little bits n’ pieces about what happened while I was gone... but there’s one constant that everypony’s mentioned, and it’s this place. I don’t know the whole story yet, but I know you’ve put up with... and done... a whole lot you shouldn’t’ve had to, and it was all because of me. If you ask me, a barrel of cider don’t nearly cover it, but unless you suddenly need a truckload of apples too, it’s all I’ve got to offer ya. I just hope it’s enough.”
I let out a long sigh – which felt like it was becoming a habit this week – and met Applejack’s stare with a stony one for a long moment. It still felt to me like she was being too generous, but Applejack can out-stubborn a rock and it was fairly obvious I was going to have to relent. “Alright, Applejack. If it’ll square things up for you.”
“Fair deal?”
“Fair deal,” I said. “But as long as you understand that it wouldn’t matter if there was a barrel on the end of it or not... I’d do it all again. And so would Waldorf and so would Silver. Ah... uh, in fact it looks like she might have to,” I noted, looking past Applejack to her corner table as the quiet was broken by a loud, drawn out snort.
At the table, Rainbow Dash had fallen asleep, her head resting on the tabletop and the tip of her cowlick falling into the empty ice-cream bowl, becoming soggy as it absorbed the small puddle of melted goop at the bottom. Applejack looked around and couldn’t stop a small and honest smile as Dash’s snoring continued. “I know it don’t look like it right now... but she’s an amazin’ friend.”
I nodded. “Want me to ask Silver if she’ll take her home?”
“Nah, it’s okay. I’ll take her home.”
“That’s going to be... interesting,” I said, quirking an eyebrow.
Applejack smiled. “I mean I’ll take her back to Sweet Apple Acres. It might sound silly, but she’s so tired I don’t want her wakin’ up in the night not knowing if this was all a dream or somethin’ and thinkin’ she’s still gotta look for me. I wanna be there, to make sure she knows everything’s okay.”
“Doesn’t sound silly,” I said. “Sounds like she’s got a pretty amazing friend.”
“Maybe she does,” Applejack acknowledged. “Look, there’s one last thing. Pinkie Pie’s throwin’ me a welcome home party at Town Hall tomorrow evening. It’s... some kind of surprise party except I’m supposed to know about it? She even found a whole bunch o’ posters with my face on in the trash somewhere, which is kinda weird. Anyway, the way she was talkin’ sounds like the whole town is gonna be there. That being the case... might not be many folks here for you to cater for and if not... well, I guess I’m sayin’ I’d appreciate it if you and Silver and Wally could come along too.”
I smiled. “I’ll bring a bottle of ambrosia.”
She chuckled. “And I’ll keep Dash away from it.”
As though provoked by her name, Rainbow Dash snorted in the corner and mumbled in her sleep. “Nnnh... no potatoes...”
“Huh?” asked Applejack with a raised eyebrow, looking back to her friend.
“I’ll tell you tomorrow,” I said, still smiling.
We exchanged nods and then Applejack wandered back over to her table and the unconscious friend sprawled across it. With some gentle cajoling she shuffled Rainbow Dash off the table and onto her own back in a similar manner to her position from earlier, with Dash’s hindlegs dangling either side of her hindquarters, forelegs draped loosely about her shoulders and her head resting limply against Applejack’s neck, the pegasus never looking likely to rouse. And with her friend settled safely and comfortably, Applejack gave me a smile and a final tug of her hat and headed for the door, closing it politely behind her.
A minute later Silver came back into the bar and noted their absence. “Aw, they’re gone? Rainbow Dash didn’t need the Pegasus Chaperone Service this evening?”
“No, it’s okay. Applejack has her taken care of.”
“Shame they couldn’t stay longer. It was just nice seeing them so happy.”
“It’s alright,” I said. “You’ll see them tomorrow at the party.”
Her eyes lit up. “We’re going? All of us? To the Unsurprise Welcome Home Party Mark Two?” When I nodded she wrapped her hooves around me in a hug. “You are the best boss ever!”
It took me a few seconds to peel her off me. “Look, you’ve been cleaning that kitchen for hours now, and if I know you it’ll be pretty spick and span. Clock off. Go home. We’re still opening for lunch tomorrow – I’ll see you then.”
She smiled back. “Best boss ever!” she repeated and trotted through the bar-hatch and into the corridor. I heard faint rummaging noises coming from the kitchen as she collected her coat and finally trotted back through the bar, heading out the front door with a last goodbye smile, shutting it behind her with a firm clunk.
Which only left me.
The clock on the wall showed ten-twenty, but on a Sunday? I’ve never known anyone to come in after about half-nine. No harm in turning in a little early. Tomorrow was bound to be hectic.
With my magic I slid the deadbolt on the front door across and doused the candles on all the tables as I prepared to put the pub to sleep for another night. I turned to the brass bell hung from its bracket on the wall to my left and gave it two solid, satisfying rings that lingered in the vacant air.
I looked around at the calm, empty room, with its comfy chestnut furnishings and solid-oak floorboards, and everything was quiet, still and peaceful. No customers. No guests. No staff. Just me and the Roses. A tavern like nowhere else I’ve known. An inn you wouldn’t find in any other town. I love this place. But more than that, I love the ponies it’s here for. They’re what make it truly special. I like to think they know if ever they’re ever down, or worried, or there’s some other reason they’re wearing that long face, that they can stop by here and always feel welcome. If they want, I’ll keep my yap shut and pour the drink.
But if they want to talk, I’ll listen.
Time at the bar, Ladies and Gentlemen.
Run for the Roses