Apples Wild

by niftykoala

Mac and Wild Card

“This Big Red is the most convincing liar I’ve ever met.” Thought Wild Card as night had finally descended.

Big “Macintosh” had spun a lame tall, but quite detailed, tale about being an apple farmer, with his sisters and grandmother. The red pony DID have a sturdy build, but that could have come from living in the Badlands as well. Supposedly he was on his way to Appleoosa and had fallen asleep and forgot to change trains. Then there was a mix-up at the post office. Big “Macintosh” explained how the dust storm had covered their escape, but didn’t explain how they’d gotten out of the building or what had caused Wild to pass out. Wild Card thought inwardly to himself what he would have to do to get his weapons back, and force “Macintosh” into telling him where he hid the money.

Big “Macintosh” said something to him, and he had missed it. “What?” Wild Card asked, looking back at him.

The red pony was smiling. “I said, do you want to see a picture of them?”

Wild Card played along. “Why not “Big Macintosh.” He added obvious sarcasm into saying the name.

Big “Macintosh” tossed over a small photo. Wild Card picked it up and looked at it. A small yellow earth pony foal with a red mane and a huge pink bow stared back at Wild. Just behind her to the left was a sexy orange mare with golden locks wearing a rancher’s hat grinning at something or someone. Next to the orange mare and elderly green nag was smiling at the camera. And behind them all, was…it was Big Macintosh. Wild Card stared at it for a moment, as Big Macintosh asked him something.

Wild Card heard and dropped the photo and eyed Big Macintosh very carefully. “Say that again.”

Big Macintosh repeated himself. “So who is Golden Bale?”

Wild Card narrowed his eyes at Big Macintosh “Why are you asking?”

“You kind of talked in your sleep.” The placid red pony replied. “From what I gathered you don’t like him much. Him and some Weaver fellah.”

Wild Card started laughing. “You really are just some hick apple farmer aren’t you?” His laughter echoed of the canyon walls. “Everypony knows who Golden Bale is in these parts. He’s as rich as Celestia herself. Although Canterlot Castle has way more stained glass windows than his homestead. We probably passed by it on our way here. And I don’t hate Golden Bale. It’s just he’s an insane rich pony who's helping keep my life a living nightmare.”

Big Macintosh didn’t reply, but remained quiet a looked expectantly at Wild Card.

Wild started to explain. “Ever hear of “The Weaver’s Tome?””