Property of West Wind

by OleGrayMane

At the Table

 
The bits clanked softly as Granny Smith stacked them on top of the day's receipts. Applejack and McIntosh watched from across the table as she recorded the results in her ledger with care. Granny checked the tally against the bills. She ran down the column of figures, added them up, and then did it again. Satisfied in her math, she cocked her head and looked at the pair sitting across from her.

“Well?” Applejack asked.

“Not a bit missing.” Granny put down her quill. “I told ya there weren’t nothin' to worry 'bout, Mac.”

The big pony huffed. “But what if he had run off with the money?”

“Now Mac, that don't make no sense.” Granny snapped the ledger closed. “If'n he did, it would only be what, twenty or thirty more bits than he has in escrow. Anypony that knows his figures would see there ain't no profit in running off.”

McIntosh continued to pout. “Well, what if he'd done it anyway?”

“Mac,” Applejack said, “can't ya give a pony credit for showin' a little initiative?”

“Exactly,” Granny chimed in. “I'm embarrassed to say that I should've thought of the idea myself. Havin' one of them make deliveries frees you up for another hour or two of work only you can do, Mac. You know that.”

He twisted the corner of his mouth.

“Or maybe”—she grinned—“would ya rather have him workin' in the orchards?”

His face soured. “Nope, I don't.” He pointed to a jumble of paper slips laying across from him. “Did he get all the orders?”

Granny stretched out and retrieved the slips. “One from each stop,” she declared, holding them aloft. “And not a complaint or nothin' on a single one.” She placed the stack down on top of the ledger.

“And as a matter of fact,” she added, “he got back about twenty minutes earlier than you normally do. Not bad for an old pony, eh?”

Mac said nothing. Instead he studied the ceiling as if it were a new and interesting addition to the room.

Applejack glanced at him and then turned to Granny. “Well, not bad for a first time.” Her brother remained disinterested in her observation.

“An' when he got back,” Granny said, “he asked if he could do Thursday's deliveries to boot. The way he asked, I'm think he might be plannin' on seein' if he can make it a regular job.” She took a moment to study their faces. “What do you make of that?”

“I don't see no problem with it,” Applejack said. She turned to Mac and added, “But I expect you got some complaint, don't ya?”

He stopped looking at the ceiling. “Eeyup, I do.”

Granny leaned forward and rested her elbows on the table. “Explain yurself.”

Mac puffed out his chest. “This is a family business,” he said staring straight at her, “and he ain't no family.”

“He's just hauling a wagon to town,” Applejack said. “Anypony could do that.”

He looked crossly at her.

“Uh, I mean, it ain't like he's trying to run the place. He's just deliverin' goods, that's all.”

“When he talks to our customers”—Mac tapped his massive hoof on the table—“he represents us. Our business. Our family. How do we know how he behaves when he's in town? How do we know what he says to other ponies? He might've done okay today, but are both of you so certain it's a good idea havin' him do it all the time?” He alternated his glare between the two.

“I'm sure ponies would let us know if there were problems,” Applejack said.

“And why should we wait util there are problems?” Mac asked.

The room became quiet. Granny crossed her forelegs and waited.

“So,” Granny began, “one vote fur it and one vote agin it.” She leaned back and massaged her jaw. “I guess I get to break the tie then, don't I?”

McIntosh scowled while Granny rolled ideas around in her head.

“I break the tie by givin' him Tuesday deliveries from now on. Mac, you keep Thursdays.”

“Sounds fair,” Applejack said.

Mac rose for his place at the table and marched out of the kitchen mumbling.

Applejack pushed back her hat and asked, “What the hay is that all about?”

“Oh, sometimes yur brother thinks he's the only pony that can do things right around here,” Granny said. “He just needs more time to get used to havin' others help us out. Then again—” She paused and winked conspiratorially. “Well, I've had suspicions.”

A gleam appeared in Applejack's eye as she leaned forward. “And those would be?”

“Let me ask ya something—” Granny closed an eye. “How many customers on the route would just happen to be single mares? Hmm? More than half by my reckonin'.”

“Granny, are you thinkin' he's got a special somepony in town he ain't been tellin' us about?”

“Oh, I didn't say that!” Her wrinkled face lit up with a devilish look. “But I wouldn't put it past yur brother to enjoy any attention given him.”

Applejack put her hoof over her mouth and snickered.

“And when does he tell us anything anyway? Twice times never, that's when. We'll be kind and leave him Thursdays for socializin'—he surely deserves that. I know y'all been workin' hard, ya'll deserve a little sumptin'.”

As quickly as the youthful, mischievous look had appeared in her face, it vanished. Her eyes became glassy and her voice wavered.

“Oh, AJ. This year's been so trying, I don't know if I can bare it. When ya get to my age, ya want to see everything work out for the best, not like this year's been headin'.” She shook her head. “Ya just want to know things are gonna be all right after yur gone.”

Applejack reached across the table and touched her foreleg. “Uh, Granny…” she said, her voice soft and low. “You ain't plannin' on goin' nowhere now, is you?”

Granny's head snapped up, once again filled with life. “Heavens no child! I've got plenty of years left. And I plan on puttin' em to good use too, embarrassin' yur sister and drivin' your brother to distraction.”

“That's a relief.” Applejack leaned back and let out a sigh. “You were startin' to worry me there for a minute.”

“And as for you—” Granny waggled her hoof at her. “You got far to go before I'm ready to let ya take over my job.”

“Why do you always say it's gonna be me? Why not Mac?” Applejack asked. “He's the oldest after all and loads stronger than I am. And don't forget Apple Bloom. She may want your job too.”

“Well, I have a feeling yur sister's destiny ain't on the farm, but—then again—she just might prove me wrong,” Granny said. “Now yur brother's a fine stallion. He can power a farm, that's for sure, but I don't think he's one to run it.”

“What do ya mean?”

“Workin' the farm and makin' it work is two different jobs. There's harder work than pullin' a plow, like makin' sure ya still got a farm come spring. But if ya must know the real reason—” Granny shot a furtive glance towards the door. Not convinced of their privacy, she gestured for Applejack to lean closer.

“Ya see,” Granny whispered with great seriousness, “mares have always been in charge of this here farm, no matter what the stallions may think.”

She leaned back. “It's a family tradition. I'd hate to break it.”

Comments

[Swashbucklist]

Elderly wisdom FTW.

I enjoy these deviations from the epistolary narrative. Makes it a little more interesting by showing what other characters think of West.