The Private Scrapbook

by Cadabra

Chapter 56: The Clubhouse Contract

Chapter 56: The Clubhouse Contract

Apple Bloom began to cry as she thought about her now known uncle. “I never knew he was like that," she wept, allowing her grandmother to cradle her. “Is he still like that? And do ya think that's why Diamond Tiara is so mean?"

Granny Smith shrugged as she thought back on her past sins. “Hard tellin'," she said as she rocked the little yellow filly. “It takes a mighty strong pony to grow from a colt to a stallion, but he found a way to make it work."

Apple Bloom looked up at her grandmother with big, wet eyes. "How'd he do it?" she asked innocently as she wiped her eyes.

Granny Smith turned back to the contract. “This helped,” she said, letting Apple Bloom read over the fine print.

Granny Smith thought back to the night she and her son wrote up the contract, remembering how hard it was for her to let go of so much just to make peace with her son. “I made that there contract so mah boy would understand the choices I made, and so he could have a chance to start over," she said, looking at the scrawled writing on those old sheets of paper. "I knew he deserved to hear the truth, even though I knew that the truth would hurt. So when I found him in his old clubhouse, I went up there with mah scrapbook to tell him the same story I’m tellin’ y’all…"

Smithy had a hunch that her son had gone to spend the night in his old clubhouse hidden in the western orchard when she found the guest bedroom empty. When he was a child, Filthy Rich liked to sneak off to it when he was moody. While he wasn't there earlier that day, she guessed he might be there now since his use of police force had failed him.

With her scrapbook tucked away in her saddlebag, Smithy made her way to the old clubhouse with nothing but a firefly lamp to guide her. She noticed the familiar clubhouse her late husband had built with her son years ago had fallen into disrepair. The once fresh paint was cracking on the outside, and some of the boards that formed the walls were warped from years of exposure to the elements. Just stepping on one of the loudly creaking stairs made Smithy wonder if her son was even considering going into such a dangerous place, but there was only one way to find out.

She knocked on the clubhouse door, hoping to hear a sound from Filthy Rich. All that greeted her was silence, a silence that made her imagination run wild to the most horrible of things. "Filthy Rich?" she whispered as she inched open the door, afraid of what she'd find on the other side.

Filthy Rich stood at an open window, staring down at the ground below. "What do ya want now?" he mumbled, not even bothering to look up.

While the cold reception hurt, Smithy had to know that her son was hurting far more than she could be right now. "Look, I ain't here to try makin' excuses fer all I done," she said, gingerly inching towards her son as the floorboards groaned beneath her every step. “Celestia knows I've done mah share of terrible things over the years, and there ain't no amount of apologies that can make it all go away. But one thing's fer sure. I owe ya an explanation fer mah actions."

Filthy Rich turned his head sideways to see his mother out of the corner of his eye. He could see that she was holding up a beaten up old scrapbook. “I ain't interested, " he sulked, turning his head away again. “Ain’t even worth it anyhow. There just ain't no more justice left in the world."

Smithy held tight to her scrapbook, taking a deep, musty scented breath to conjure up the courage needed to talk to her son. “Not even if I got the answers ya've been lookin' fer?" she said, hoping to entice him. “Not even if it's got answers 'bout what happened to yer daddy?"

Filthy Rich held his breath as he thought about what he would say about his mother's offer. “How do I know ya ain’t lyin' to me?" he asked hesitantly.

Taking a risk, Smithy held out her scrapbook for him to hold. “Guess that's fer ya to decide on yerown," she replied.

Filthy Rich’s hardened gaze went from his mother’s face to the scrapbook in her hoof several times before he decided to approach her. “Don't dare lie to me," he said as he stood beside her.

Smithy set her scrapbook down on the floor near the firefly lamp so that they could see the pages. She turned to the front of the scrapbook, surprising herself at how much she had changed since back then. “I've known yer daddy since I was just a filly," she began, noticing her son rolling his eyes already at her story. “Mah daddy owed yer grampa a lotta money back in them days, and mah daddy did wrong by yer family a long time ago. But yer grampa was a good, fergivin' man."

Filthy Rich huffed at his mother’s explanations. “I know that," he wined impatiently. “Grampa told me all 'bout yer family owin' him money and how y'all got bailed out by Princess Celestia to pay him back. He said iffn the princess didn't do that, he might've had to increase the interest rates on everypony else's loans or risk losin' his business. Funny that ended up happenin' to us."

Smithy held her tongue at her son’s biting words as she turned ahead in her scrapbook. “I ain't sayin' what daddy did was right," she explained, "but it did set into motion what happened between yer family and mine, 'specially when it comes to matters of the heart."

Smithy felt bad knowing she didn't have an image of Bladire to show her son, but she did at least have one single one of Kizzy. “I met her daddy in Canterlot while mah daddy was in prison," she explained, letting her son see the familiar face of the slave he had heckled since childhood. “Bladire was a good man, and I loved him very much. But yer daddy wouldn't let us be together."

Filthy Rich’s eyes widened with disbelief as he looked at the photo of Kizzy. “Ya mean to say ya cheated on daddy?!?" he exclaimed in horror.

Smithy shook her head fiercely as she grabbed the photo away from her son before he could damage it. "I did no such thing," she said as she held the precious photo close to her heart. “I loved Bladire long before Stinkin' Rich blackmailed me into marryin' him."

Filthy Rich’s chest heaved with hatred as he spat on his mother’s scrapbook. “I told ya not to lie to me!" he screamed in his mother’s face.

Smithy stared unblinking into her son’s crying eyes. "I wouldn't be lyin' to ya 'bout somethin' like this," she said as she turned to the old contract Stinking Rich made her sign years ago. "Yer daddy was jealous of what Princess Celestia gave mah family years ago. He wanted it fer himself, and knew that I was just the pony he needed to control to get it."

Filthy Rich scanned over the contract to see what his mother was talking about. "Looks cut and dry to me," he said flatly.

Smithy touched the contract that had set her life of hardship into motion, a sense of regret pouring out of the deep breath she let out. "If only it was," she explained. “Ya see, yer daddy owned Bladire, and he used him as a pawn to steal from me. I was willin' to make a fair bargain with yer daddy regardin' mah zap apple jam, but he wanted a whole lot more than that. He was lookin' fer control over compromise. I found that out after he made me sign this here contact. And after I signed it, he... took me by force to prove his point. He was power hungry, and he wanted to hurt me to show he was in charge."

It was hard for Filthy Rich to hear about his father in a negative light. He had always thought of him as a good man who had been martyred that night in the hotel. "How can that be?" he wept, rejecting any of his mother’s attempts to comfort him.

Smithy backed away from her son to look at the contract. "I later found out more 'bout it after Bladire saved me from yer daddy's abuse that night," she explained. “I learned all 'bout the Faction of the Stud, and sure enough, they ended up takin' over the farm fer a while. This here contact was less 'bout jam and more 'bout losin' mah freedom."

Filthy Rich still didn't like what he was hearing, but his curiosity was getting the better of him. “Iffn he wronged ya so bad, why didn't ya go to the police?" he asked.

A hot tear ran down Smithy's cheek as she thought about it. "I was scared to," she explained. “Yer daddy was gonna set mine up to go back to jail if I did anythin' to get in his way of takin' over Sweet Apple Acres. I was afraid of what him and the Faction could do to me, Bladire, or mah family, and I knew that contract wouldn't help me out in a court of law. I was too scared to do anythin', so I took the abuse yer daddy put on me to save the ones I loved."

Hearing about his father’s controlling behavior was hard to believe, especially since Filthy Rich remembered his father for being generous and kind to him. "Iffn ya were so afraid of him, why’d ya marry him then?" he asked, hoping to corner his mother in a lie.

Smithy flipped to a page in the contract, pointing to the loophole Bladire showed her years ago. "I was scared and pregnant, and didn't know what to do," she replied. "Bladire thought he found a way out, sayin' if I accepted yer daddy's marriage proposal, I'd be a slave owner. Because I would own slaves, I could have control over an escape plan so we could all run away to freedom."

Filthy Rich scoffed at the idea as his mother showed him the escape route drawn on a map. “Now I know yer lyin'," he said, pushing the map away. “How could a stupid plan like that work?"

With a heavy heart, Smithy folded the map back into the scrapbook. “It didn't work," she admitted, thinking back to the day Kizzy was born. “Yer sister came too quick and yer daddy and the Faction boys caught us. As soon as he saw the baby weren't his, he hung Bladire."

Filthy Rich didn’t care for his mother’s tears. He crossed his arms and rested himself against the warped wall boards. “Can't say I blame him," he said, ignoring the shock on his mother’s face. “Anypony would get mad 'bout his wife cheatin’ on him. I'm surprised he didn't kill ya along with the ziggler baby.”

Smithy was angry that her son could say something so hurtful, but she remembered asking Tess a very similar question. "Ya remember Lizza?" she asked, hoping to lay his accusations to rest. "She lied to yer daddy to save me and Kizzy. She told him that Bladire forced himself on me, and that's why I had a striped baby. If she hadn’t lied, I'd be dead by now and ya wouldn't be here talkin' to me."

Filthy Rich pouted at his mother’s harsh explanation. "Why'd ya stay married then?" he asked, not willing to look at his mother for how angry he was.

Smithy remembered the night she learned the truth about Bladire's death, and how powerless she was to do anything about it. "Yer daddy broke me, just like he would a slave," she explained in a saddened voice. “I was more his property than his wife after that. Lies and secrets ain’t a marriage, and we’re both guilty of that. Our marriage turned out more like a business agreement that lasted a real long time. Y’all just happened to get yerself caught up in it."

Filthy Rich was disgusted with his mother and how she talked about her marriage to his father. “So I was a mistake then?” he asked.

Smithy sat beside him to pat him on the back, which he pushed away. “No baby,” she said, failing to comfort her son. “Yer daddy wanted himself a lil’ boy real bad. He didn’t get ya the first time, so had me try again. Ya meant the whole world to him.”

Filthy Rich looked at the photos of the two of them together on the train ride to his death, embarrassed to think that he put licorice in his nose as a child. “But he died on that trip," he said, fighting a losing battle with his emotions. “That murder pony killed him right in front of me, and tried to kill me too!"

This was the part of the story Smithy was dreading the most. “Crab Apple did it 'cause I hired him to," she confessed. “Stinkin' Rich was gonna sell Kizzy, and I never would've seen her again. I was desperate, scared, and outta options. I wanted to kill yer daddy mahself, but kept chickenin' out. I knew that there was a rival gang in Baltimare, so I hired 'em to have yer daddy killed so I could save yer sister."

Filthy Rich gasped, drawing his hooves up to his gaping mouth as he stared wide eyed at his mother in horror. “ Ya... he... just..." Filthy Rich stuttered in disbelief.

Smithy watched her son try to comprehend what she had told him, his shock turning to fury. “Crab Apple wasn't gonna do it at first," she said quickly, watching Filthy Rich try to form what he wanted to say. “I found out he took the job 'cause yer daddy killed his first wife and baby. If it weren't Stinkin' Rich he was hired to kill, he'd have refused. We planned on doin' it while ya were sleepin' so ya'd just get the bad news when ya woke up, but yer daddy had other plans."

Filthy Rich buried his face in his hooves as he listened to his mother talk about his father's killer. “Ya had daddy killed!” he cried out as he held his head as if doing so would keep the bad news out. “All ‘cause of that filthy yella ziggler? Do ya love her more than ya love me?”

It was a difficult question to answer, one no mother likes to hear. Smithy paused for a moment to think of the best thing to say. “I love ya both,” she began to explain. “Thing is, I love ya both different. Yer mah boy, so of course I love ya, but ya got a whole bunch handed to ya at an early age. Yer views on everythin’ got all warped up by what ya thought ya knew. Kizzy was a slave, and had a hard life. I wanted to see mah girl have a better life, the kinda life her brother was already enjoyin’.”

Filthy Rich didn’t understand the answer. “So if ya loved us equal, why’d ya abandon me and gramma after ya killed daddy?” he asked, his arms crossed as tight as a knot.

Smithy knew this decision would haunt her relationship with her son for the rest of their lives. “Sometimes ya gotta fight fer what ya believe in, even if it means givin’ up on what ya love,” she answered. “I knew fer the sake of both of ya I had to try to fight fer freedom, even if there was times when all I wanted to do was quit. I didn't quit because I was thinkin' 'bout both of ya. I wanted Kizzy to live in a world that’d accept her, and I wanted ya to learn to accept folks like her so we could be a family. I wish it worked out better, but even after slavery was abolished folks still had problems acceptin’ zebras as equals. So yer sister ended up goin’ back home to where her kind came from.”

Filthy Rich was too upset to care. "Ya realize that scrapbook of yers is all the evidence I need to throw y'all in jail," he said, perking up at the thought. “I could get the justice I want just takin' it to the police ponies."

Smithy closed her scrapbook with a loud thump as she looked at the snarky grin on her son’s face. “Well now, don't ya just look like the cat that ate the canary," she retorted in her defense. "Guess we can all get to know each other better in prison, 'specially with that warrant out fer yer Uncle Fairly Rich."

Filthy Rich let out a frustrated snort in his mother’s face. “Ya leave mah family outta this!" he exclaimed. “They've got it hard enough as it is thanks to all y'all. Mah family gave up everythin’ to help raise me while ya were gone out breakin' laws, and took care of me like one of their own after gramma died. I owe ‘em everythin’, and they’re gonna lose their livelihoods ‘cause of y’all. Think 'bout that fer a while!”

Smithy could see the desperation in her son’s face, a desperation that she had put there. It was obvious that she had ruined so much of his life, and that was something that both of them would have to live with. She flipped absentmindedly through the pages of her scrapbook, hoping that a smile from the past might inspire some ideas on how she was going to reach out to her son. If it was one thing the old Seed Family was good at, it was scraping by in the worst of situations.

She turned to the page that contained Princess Celestia's royal pardon, the document that changed her life. “Say boy,” she said, breaking the silence between the two of them. “When I was just a filly, Princess Celestia gave mah family a fresh start when she gave us Sweet Apple Acres. What if I was to do the same fer ya?"

Filthy Rich stared suspiciously at his mother, his eyebrows knitted together under his steely gaze. “What could somepony like y'all do?" he asked, trying to figure out what she could possibly have to offer.

Smithy pointed out the window into the dark night. "Land," she explained. “I can give ya a piece of property all yer own fer ya and fer yer uncle to build up a house and start over."

Filthy Rich was taken back by the offer. The last thing he was expecting was an offer to get out of the house so quickly, but that was exactly what he wanted. "What's the catch?" he asked, still skeptical about the offer.

For the first time since the start of the conversation, Smithy felt herself smiling. “No catch," she said, her head held a little higher than before. "Once all is fergiven between us all, then y'all can pick where ya wanna build, so long as it don't interfere with harvestin'. And it won't be a real big piece of land mind ya. Just enough to be independent without turnin' us into produce competitors."

Filthy Rich’s suspicions were confirmed, and he was quick to point them out. "I knew I couldn't trust ya!" he exclaimed, shaking his hooves at his mother in frustration. “Yer alright kickin' us out, but heaven forbid somepony else try to outdo ya!"

Smithy held up her hooves to show no signs of animosity, but her son was not wanting to listen. “Now see here!" she hollered over her son’s bickering. “Competition's a hard enough business without mixin' in folks ya care 'bout. We already got bad blood between us, so let's not add more."

Filthy Rich snorted his disappointment out at his mother’s offer, angry that she would put such stipulations on him. As he huffed out his feelings, his hardened gaze fell back on his mother’s scrapbook. “How 'bout distribution instead?" he suggested, turning to his father's old contact. "Daddy got ya started on this here contract fer the first hundred jars of zap apple jam fer Uncle Grossly Rich, and he did good enough. Somethin' like that'll go a long way into a family business, and it'd be a way to make some money while helpin' mah Cousin Prosper."

Smithy thought more about her son’s suggestion, trying to think what more she could do to make amends. “I reckon that'd be alright," she contemplated, realizing what the loss of profit would mean to her son’s success. “I betcha yer Uncle Fairly Rich would be a big help with the money handlin' too. It ain’t like we got a real strong bank here in Ponyville anyway, so he’d do well as a clerk fer ya.”

Filthy Rich shook his head at the idea. "He’s a war veteran. He deserves his own success," he said, firm in his ideas to take advantage of the situation. "Gonna be real shady gettin' a permit to open up a bank with a warrant out though."

Smithy rested a hoof under her chin in thought. “Ya know, Crab Apple don't have a warrant out on him," she said, watching her son’s interest begin to peek. “Why I betcha hooves to hindquarters he'd be willin' to help ya both out in openin' up a Buildin' and Loan fer Fairly Rich. And he's still got some ties in Canterlot that can see 'bout bailin' out yer uncle."

While the offer was certainly tempting, Filthy Rich couldn't help wondering if there was an ulterior motive. “I want this to be a Rich enterprise, not an Apple enterprise," he demanded. “I don’t even want folks to know we’re related. Ya rightly embarrassed me at school with all yer goin’ on in the newspaper, and it’d be a business risk associatin’ with ya. Ya understand, don’t ya?”

Smithy was taken back by the obligation. “But yer mah boy!” she replied. “Fer all the wrong I've done ya, I wanna make things right. I wanna be proud of ya, and I wanna help ya!”

Filthy Rich rolled his eyes at his mother’s sudden display of maternity. “And I wanna succeed,” he replied dryly. “Ya can help me out by lettin' me go off on mah own with a fresh start. Ya’ve kept secrets before fer mah sister so she’d succeed in life, right? Can’t ya keep some fer me so I can succeed? Yer willin' to throw the murder pony in the mix fer yer lies, so why not? Ya owe me that much.”

It hurt to think that once again she would have to keep a secret. She thought she was passed that part of her life after she’d let her daughter go. Still, if this was the only way she could keep her son in her life, what choice did she have? “It’s a deal,” she said sadly as the two shook on it.

After that, the two of them made up a contract together, writing it out under the firefly lamp in the clubhouse. Smithy sat back and let Filthy Rich write up anything as he pleased, so long as she could still be a part of his life. She finalized her decision as she wrote her name down at the bottom, her simple writing spelling out the name ‘Granny Smith.’

Granny Smith turned to the deed to the Ponyville Building and Loan with her son and husband's name written on it as owner. “So that’s why I owe Filthy Rich what I do,” she said, turning to some newspaper clippings about the structure's grand opening. “We opened up a Ponyville Buildin’ and Loan, where I put all mah money in Fairly Rich’s care. Filthy Rich soon took a job at Mr. Gower's drug store soon after. He bounced between workin' at both, and got real stressed out fer such a young man. I never saw any money comin’ in off that bank, but it brought mah boy closer to home."

Applejack looked at the newspaper clipping of the opening of the Ponyville Building and Loan, watching the major of the time helping her uncle cut the red ribbon on it. "So he ended up screwin' us over then," she said flatly.

Granny Smith chuckled at her granddaughter’s tone. "Ya sound just like yer granddad after I told him 'bout the deal I made," she said, gently nudging an unamused Applejack. “He was awful sore with me at first fer makin' such a risky, expensive deal without him, but he came 'round."

Applejack gave her grandmother a stern look. "I don't blame him," she replied dryly. “Just look at the mess we're in now."

Granny Smith sighed, knowing that her granddaughter was right. “It didn't start out like that," she explained, turning to a surprisingly affectionate photo of Filthy Rich curled up asleep on the floor with baby Honeycrisp snuggled up close to him. “He kept his end of the bargain fer a while, and fer a long time we didn't have a whole lotta problems. I think yer daddy had somethin' to do with that, iffn ya ask me. Filthy Rich'd never admit it, and he sure never let on 'bout it, but I think he liked havin' a brother."

Comments

[Dapper Guy]

Okay, there's something I can't help but say.
One, that contract that Granny has could be shredded in seconds. The land he has right now was sold to Rich by Granny. Surely there's gotta be a way that she could have it back since she was the original owner. Second, everything Granny did was under threat of blackmail here, nothing was ever done under free will and could be easily overturned in court. Third, screw rich. Literally, that idiot could go up in flames easily. Granny doesn't owe him jack and if he did try to pull up any history, the statute of limitations for all those crimes would've already passed long ago. Right now, she could say no and start selling to that jelly freak. Finally, when AJ or Big Mac takes over, they can stop selling to Rich. New ownership, new rules and as the reasons I stated above, they could have him over a barrel in no time. In the end, it could all be considered contractual fraud that any of this happened.

[Spiritus Arcane]

5428245
That's kinda how I'm hoping this ends, with the Apples telling Filthy where he can shove it, since he's obviously turned a peace offering into a revenge scheme to ruin them and line his pockets by totally taking over the zap apples.

[Ice Star]

Ah, this is where it ends (for now). I'll be patiently waiting for whatever's left, whenever it may come.