The Private Scrapbook

by Cadabra

Chapter 54: Welcome Home?

Chapter 54: Welcome Home?

While listening to her grandmother’s failed reunion with her family was tragic, Applejack was starting to get impatient. "So when are we gonna get to the part 'bout our debts?" she asked, pointing to the window at the low hanging moon on the horizon. “We've been at this all night! I'm ain’t tryin' to be rude or nothin', but how's all this tie in on what ya decided to do this mornin'?"

Granny Smith turned to a scrapbook page containing a thin contact that she and her son had made. “This here’s where it happens,” she explained, showing it to her antsy granddaughter.

Applejack looked over the contract, trying to figure out everything for herself. “When’d y’all decide on this?” she asked as she saw the agreement for one hundred jars of zap apple jam per harvest. "Iffn I ain't mistaken, it looks an awful lot like the last one some pages back."

Granny Smith pointed to the date on the top of the contract to help explain herself. “It happened real soon after yer daddy and Auntie Orange were born," she replied, turning a page to a newspaper clipping of a birth notice printed in the Ponyville Press. “I wrote to Fairly Rich and Filthy Rich every week before the twins were born, beggin' fer fergivness. Every once in a while, Fairly Rich would write me back, but most of the time he'd try sellin' me on some investment or another instead of givin' me a real answer."

Granny Smith showed her grandchildren the sales letters and brochures Fairly Rich had mailed her, all of them vague and desperate for money. “Times got awful rough fer folks 'round Equestria," she explained. “Stock Market crashed 'cause of how hard it was fer some ponies adjustin' to life without profitable slaves. It got so bad that ponies scrambled to the banks to take out their money before it was all gone. We lost some money when that happened, but we were okay livin' off what we grew on the farm. Sweet Apple Acres was all bought up and paid fer, so we didn't have to worry none 'bout a roof over our heads. I couldn't help worryin' 'bout mah boy though, 'specially with the Dodge City Buildin' and Loan. I didn't wanna give up hope, but there weren't much else I could do..."

Crab Apple stood over his son's crib, cooing and talking like a lovesick father. “Does my baby boy like dis ba ba sheep toy?" he said in a cutesy voice as he held a stuffed sheep over baby Honeycrisp's head. “Here comes Mr. Wolly! Dat's right. Come and get him, my great big boy!”

Honeycrisp let out a loud cackle as he grabbed onto the stuffed animal with his gums. He wrapped his little arms around the soft toy and chewed on it with drooling glee. His father was crouched next to him, bopping the toy with his nose just to listen to his son giggle.

Smithy sat in her rocking chair, feeding a fussy Valencia. She watched her husband bonding with her son, reminding her of how Stinking Rich used to play with Filthy Rich all the time when he was just a baby. She felt a wave of guilt wash over her as she watched Crab Apple pick up Honeycrisp and lay the baby boy on his chest, just like her late husband used to do.

Ever since her latest pregnancy, Smithy was feeling nostalgic for Kizzy and Filthy Rich. She had always dreamed of having her son and daughter together under the same roof for family time, a dream that hadn’t come to pass. The fact that she had brought both a son and a daughter into the world just now almost seemed ironic, especially with them being as different as apples and oranges like her two older children.

She knew that Kizzy and Filthy Rich were both old enough at this point to make their own decisions, but she couldn't help wondering if things would have been better if she had made different decisions when they were younger. If Stinking Rich were still alive today, would Filthy Rich still love her? And what would have become of Kizzy if she hadn’t ended the slave sale? She knew she never would have met Crab Apple if this was the case, and the idea of never meeting one of the kindest, loyalist, most loving men she had ever known made her upset. It didn't help to think that their relationship was founded on such a violent beginning.

Crab Apple noticed a far away look on his wife's face as Valencia rested against her. He inched his way towards Smithy, still holding onto his son. He lifted Honeycrisp up to his mother’s face, the baby boy still smiling with the stuffed sheep hanging out of his mouth. “What’s wrong, mom?" Crab Apple said in a high pitched voice, using his son as a puppet as he tried to sound like a child.

Smithy appreciated the gesture as she took her son from Crab Apple, giving the colt a kiss on the cheek as she cradled him next to his sister. “I’m just thinkin' is all," she said, watching the twins gurgling in her arms.

Crab Apple leaned his head onto his wife's shoulders, nuzzling her cheek as he watched his babies. “What are you thinkin' about, huh?" he asked quietly, watching his children take turns yawning.

Smithy gently got up from the rocking chair, leaning against her husband as they made their way to the crib. “Kinda funny how we had a boy and a girl," she said as she lay them back in their crib. “Stars sure have a funny way of tellin' ya things sometimes."

Crab Apple watched his wife take her time kissing his children as she tucked them in like precious commodities. “You miss Kizzy and Filthy Rich, don't you," Crab Apple said bluntly.

Smithy looked at him with wet eyes, providing to him that he was right. “Yeah, how'd ya know?" she whispered to avoid startling the children.

Crab Apple wrapped his arm around his wife's waist, pulling her close to him. "I can read you like a book you know," he said as he gently kissed her. “It’s kinda obvious by da way you act around da kids. You act like they're balloons. It's like your afraid ta let 'em go, or dat you'll break 'em or somethin'."

Smithy knew he was right, but she was so afraid of ruining their lives like she had with her other children that she couldn't help herself. She buried her eyes into her husband's shoulder, comforted to know that she was in the arms of somepony who loved her just as much as she loved him. “I just don't wanna make the same mistakes I made before with mah other youngins," she said, letting tears soak into his shirt.

Crab Apple stroked his wife's braided hair, noticing a few more gray strands mixed in with the normal yellow ones. “Hey, you're gonna make mistakes, alright. It's just gonna happen," he explained. “They gotta learn dat life's full a mistakes, and dat's just life. You learn from mistakes, and dat's how you get smarter. Now you got a whole new chance to make all kinds a new mistakes, and I'll be here ta make sure we take care a all da mistakes we're both gonna end up makin' togetha."

The two ponies held each other close for a long time, listening to the peaceful quite of the nursery. It was a very content feeling to just let the world go on around them as they stood there, lost in each others embraces while listening to their children sleep. The couple whispered their affections to each other quietly, as though raising the volume of their voices would spoil the perfect moment.

The silence was broken by a distant noise outside. Crab Apple let go of his wife and walked to the window to see what it was that was causing such a fuss outside. "There's a big wagon comin' up da road," he explained with narrowed eyes, trying to make out more details. "Wonder if it's travelin' sales ponies. We don't need snake oil, do we?"

Smithy stood beside her teasing husband as they watched the wagon labor it's way down the road. Her eyes flew open at the sight of who she saw walking beside it. "Wait...is that Fairly Rich!?!" she exclaimed, her face breaking into a wide smile as if a miracle had happened.

In her excitement, Smithy ran down the stairs without so much as a thought. She threw open the front door to greet her guests, who were still too far away to hear her. “Howdy y'all!" she shouted at the top of her lungs, waving her hooves in the air like a lunatic to try being seen from such a long distance.

Crab Apple finally made it to the bottom of the stairs, breathing heavily at the sudden need to move. "What are you, nuts?" he said between gasps. "Let 'em get closer. Maybe get 'em some refreshments instead a standin' here like an impatient foal."

Smithy quickly took to her husband's suggestion, running to the kitchen to make a platter of sandwiches and a pitcher of lemonade. Even with the food prepared, her guests were still a ways off. "Maybe we should go greet 'em half way," she suggested, smiling wide like an excited child. “I reckon they'd be mighty glad fer some help."

Crab Apple couldn't help smiling at his wife's enthusiasm, but was afraid to get her hopes up. "Leave da food on da porch, okay?" he said, letting his wife give him a thankful kiss on the cheek before running to the door. “Now cool down before comin' off goofy, and wait up for me!"

It was hard for Smithy to stand still as soon as she ran up to the wagon. She noticed her son and his cousin, Prosper, were pulling on the wagon reigns while Fairly Rich limped beside it. She jumped up and down, waving like a fool to get their attention. "What are y'all doin' 'round here?" she asked as she galloped up to them.

Fairly Rich politely waved back as Smithy approached him. “We got run outta town after we lost the Buildin' and Loan," he explained as Smithy hugged him, only to half heartedly return it for politeness sake. “We were livin' above the family business ever since we sold the house to try to keep ourselves afloat. After the Stock Market crashed, folks rushed fer their money. We didn't have enough money to go 'round, so the Buildin' and Loan went belly up. We had no place to go after that. We reckon since ya dropped yer son off with us years ago, it'd be high time to return the favor, right Filthy Rich?"

Filthy Rich scowled as his uncle playfully poked his side with his peg leg. “I don't wanna talk 'bout it, Uncle Fairly Rich," he grunted between gritted teeth.

Smithy smiled at her disgruntled son, who refused to look back at her. “It’s real good to see ya again," she said politely, noticing his off putting behavior.

Fairly Rich waited for his nephew to respond, getting annoyed by his stubborn silence. “What do ya say to yer mama, Filthy Rich?" he said, more like a disciplinary father than his uncle.

Filthy Rich rolled his eyes and huffed his frustration, looking at uncle as if to ask if he really had to. "Thanks fer yer hospitality," he grumbled as if he had rehearsed it.

Crab Apple walked up to the wagon, smiling uncomfortably at the guests. “So, uh, need some help folks?" he asked, getting rude looks from the two ponies pulling. “Say, Filthy, wanna break? Maybe I could pull for you and..."

"NO!" Filthy Rich screamed in interruption. “I got it! Just leave me alone!"

Crab Apple backed away from the fuming teenager. “Geeze, sorry for askin'," he said defensively. “Just don't hurt yourself on dat thing, alright? Offer still stands if you change your mind, you know."

To show his independence, Filthy Rich heaved the cart forward. “I said I got it!" he said with an obstinate snort as he dug his hooves into the ground for better hold.

Feeling there was little else he could offer, Crab Apple turned to go back to the house. "Hey Smiddy," he shouted over his shoulder. "I'm gonna go check on da kids if you need me."

Filthy Rich stopped in his tracks, his eyes wide open in angry shock. "Y'all have kids!?!" he exclaimed in his crackling, prepubescent voice. “How's this even possible!"

Crab Apple shot the rude teenager a cheeky look. "What, you never have da talk?" he said sarcastically, getting a very rude gesture in return from Filthy Rich.

Fairly Rich grabbed his nephew by the heaving shoulders to get him to stop his behavior. “We’ll talk 'bout it when we get ourselves settled in," he said sternly as if not to further agitate his nephew.

Filthy Rich shook with anger at his uncle’s touch for a good few minutes, studying the two ponies he had built such an intense grudge against. "Yes, Uncle Fairly Rich," he forced out before continuing towards the house.

Fairly Rich backed away from the moving cart to talk with his host. “He’s havin' a hard time with this," he apologized. “We've been fightin' tooth and nail ever since we lost our property. Times are hard, and he's a real proud boy. He hates the idea of takin' a hoofout again, 'specially from the likes of y'all, no offense. We’re just hopin' fer a fresh start so we can get outta yer hair and move on with our lives."

Smithy was offended, but chose to keep her mouth shut. “How long were y'all plannin' to stay?" she asked as the boys finished pulling the wagon up to the house.

Fairly Rich shrugged his shoulders. “Dunno," he said. “Gonna have to depend on how long it takes to get a job and a place of our own."

The two ponies walked up to the house in silence, watching the boys unhook themselves from the wagon. They watched Crab Apple try to be helpful, only to be rejected by the stubborn boys.

Prosper tussled his cousin's mane playfully, noticing how annoyed Filthy Rich was at having his hair messed up. "I gotta head back to what's left of mah General Store," he said, giving his cousin a gentle nudged on the shoulder. “Don't ferget to write iffn yer havin' problems. Ya know I'm here fer ya."

Filthy Rich did not return the friendly gestures. “Why can't we just live with y'all instead of this dump site?" he asked, spitting rudely on the front porch right in front of Crab Apple.

Prosper sighed at the question as if they'd been over this a thousand times. "Ya know Dodge City ain’t safe fer ya right now," he explained. “Folks are too money crazy 'round there. Yer mighty lucky y'all didn't get rode outta town on a rail fer not havin' enough money to go 'round at the Buildin' and Loan. At least these folks look like they got some room fer ya to lay low 'til this all blows over."

Crab Apple held out the platter of sandwiches, hoping to entice the boys. “Sure you don't wanna stay for a snack?" he asked, taking a bite out of one of them to show how tasty they were. “Smiddy makes good stuff you guys. You don't know what you're missin'."

Prosper turned his nose up at the offer. “Ain’t hungry," he said with a smirk. "See ya, cousin. Don't let this here swindler bug ya none."

Fairly Rich shook a grateful hoof with with his nephew, wishing him safe travels. “Ya sure ya don't need travelin' money?" he asked, trying to offer Prosper some bits.

Prosper shook his hoof as he refused the money. “Y'all need it more than me," he said with a kind smile, making sure that Smithy saw it. "Family takes care of its own where I come from. It's the Rich family motto as far as I'm concerned."

While Smithy took Prosper's words as the jabbing insult that they were, she knew she didn't have much to say in her defense. She had dumped her own family at the mercy of her late husband's, which to this day haunted her good reputation.

Smithy waved a shamed goodbye to her son’s cousin before rejoining the group. “Well now, y'all look tired," she said, Fairly Rich shooting her an insulted look for pointing out how haggard they looked after traveling so far on hoof. "Let's get y'all situated. Why, I reckon after a shower and a hot meal, yer gonna feel fresh as a daisy."

Filthy Rich rolled his eyes at Smithy's forced hospitality. “I’m gonna go to mah room," he said as he stomped loudly up the stairs.

Smithy went to the staircase to talk to her son, but he was already at the top and well on his way to his old bedroom. “Filthy Rich!" she tried to warn him. “We need to find ya a different room! We got the babies in there!"

A door was heard slamming, followed by the crying of frightened babies. Filthy Rich appeared at the top of the steps with furious tears in his eyes. "I know when I ain't wanted," he murmured as he walked down the stairs, pushing past his relatives on his way to the front door. “Ya can keep yer murder pony and his babies! I don't want nothin' to do with y'all!"

Fairly Rich watched his nephew run as fast as he could away from the house. "Come on back, boy!" he shouted. “We talked 'bout this, remember? Yer gonna get yerself lost!"

Smithy shoved her former brother-in-law out of the way. “This ain't yer argument," she scowled. “He’s mah boy, and I'm gonna take care of this."

Fairly Rich returned the hard nudge as they ran out the front door to pursue Filthy Rich, running surprisingly fast for somepony with a peg leg. “I know I ain't his daddy, but I've been responsible fer him ever since y've been out gallivantin' 'round Equestria," he scolded. “Don't ya realize how much it hurt yer boy readin' 'bout his own mama breakin' the law? Ya abandoned him to go be a delinquent."

Smithy grabbed Fairly Rich by the tail to stop him from his limping gallop. "Now just listen here," she said, having had just about enough of Fairly Rich’s accusatory attitude. “Iffn I hadn’t gone and fought fer what I believed in, zebras never would've gained their freedom. Filthy Rich would've kept on actin' hateful towards zebras instead of realizin' they're just like us! I wanted him to learn to treat folks with the respect Celestia gave us all!"

Fairly Rich raised an angry eyebrow at Smithy. “And do ya think it really worked?" he asked, staring daggers at Smithy. "He’s gone from hatin' zigglers to hatin' his own mama."

Fairly Rich’s word's struck Smithy to the heart like a pickaxe. She tried to think of something to say, but everything in her felt too numb to function.

Fairly Rich scoffed at the dumbfounded display. "That's what I thought," he said, disapprovedly shaking his head. “Lemme tell ya, if it weren't fer the Faction of the Stud, I don't know how we'd be here anyway. Folks in Dodge City tried to kill us when they couldn't get their money after the Stock Market crashed. I can't tell what they were thinkin' sendin' us here. The Faction's always been so helpful otherwise."

Just hearing that her rival gang had helped make this reunion possible made Smithy's already numb body run cold. After all the pain and hardship, after being pardoned for months of prison time, after letting her own daughter go, the Faction of the Stud was still at large.

Fairly Rich watched Smithy faint, collapsing in a heap like a sack of apples on the ground. He gritted his teeth in frustration at the comatose pony laying before him. "Useless," he snarled, spitting on Smithy's head before walking away to find his runaway nephew.