Braeburn Apple and the Treasure of Red River Canyon

by Revenant Wings

1 - Salt Lick Saloon

The sun beat down over Appleoosa and caused shimmering waves of heat to form above the desert surface. Few residents were out and about among the wooden buildings of the main street and the smaller residential areas nearby, preferring to remain indoors and in the shade where the temperature didn’t rise above eighty degrees. The farms were desolate save the remains of the recently harvested crops, from trees to old wheat stalks to dried-up lettuce leaves left out in the sun for too long, and the farmers stayed at home resting as they waited for the winter rains to come around and flood the lands for crops, bringing nutrients back into the soil.

Only one farmer did not stay at home. This farmer was a light gold earth pony stallion with an amber and gold mane and friendly green eyes. He wore a Stetson even as he sat at the bar inside of the Salt Lick Saloon along with a small leather duster around his front, and his cutie mark was a single red apple with tinges of gold. He waved to the bartender, a mustached pony with a sandy coat currently cleaning out a glass mug similar to that on his flank, and brought his attention over.

“If it isn’t Braeburn Apple,” the bartender said pleased. “I’m guessing you’re done with the harvest season by now.”

“What other reason do I have to come down here?” Braeburn said. “Now that the harvest season’s up, I got to wait at least two months before anythin’ needs to be done.”

The bartender nodded. “So, what’ll it be? The usual?”

Braeburn nodded. “One small salt lick. I probably could spoil myself ev’ry once in a while, but I choose not to today.”

The bartender laughed as he went over to an ice chest and pulled out a small block of a white crystal. “You always choose not to spoil yourself.”

“I suppose so,” Braeburn said. “Clean livin’ is what got me to have some of the highest apple sales in all of Equestria, though.”

The bartender set the salt lick in front of Braeburn. “Ain’t you got family you could visit?”

“I could, but the train’s already done passed through. I got to wait another two weeks before I could, and I couldn’t last time since I was doin’ some last minute things managin’ the farm.”

Braeburn took a lick of the salt lick and sighed happily at the fresh, cool taste. The bartender, meanwhile, pulled himself away and continued wiping out the glass before serving a customer at the other end of the bar a light gold liquid.

That stallion was in the same predicament as Braeburn. He owned the wheat farm not far from where Braeburn’s orchard was. He’d already been in there with a drink in his hand when Braeburn entered and the stallion realized he was about to suffer the same fate. Even so, he drank the gold liquid as though it was fine nectar. Braeburn would have stopped him, but rethought it. It wasn’t his fault he got drunk; what else was there to do?

The closest source of entertainment was Dodge Junction, with rodeos and gambling halls and music and plays, but that was already half a day’s train ride away and often was rather expensive to go to for a small-town farmer. Appleoosa had the hoedowns every couple of weeks, but you can’t have a hoedown every day otherwise even the most hardened fans that show up to every one start to get sick of it. Almost every farmer had a small savings that was spent on a trip to Dodge Junction for a week, and eventually the gambling and the drinking and the rodeos and the games would wear out their supplies and they’d come back home defeated and waited out the time until the next season came around and they could go back to work.

Despite his successes, Braeburn never did find much enjoyment in Dodge Junction. The gambling and drinking halls brought with them a considerable amount of things that Braeburn never exactly found appetizing. The games themselves were fun but could suck you dry in minutes if you weren’t smart about them. The drinks were good but would put you under the table so fast you wouldn’t even realize it until the next morning. And there were the appearances of the mares, dainty, pretty little things that promised cheap rewards for a small fee. There was a reason Dodge Junction was prosperous and Appleoosa was not, though; Appleoosa may have enjoyed the peace and relative prosperity of a desert town, but it did not have the lure of the bright lights of Dodge Junction, which could be seen from Appleoosa’s main street late at night.

Braeburn might have been halfway through his salt lick, pondering what to do in his spare time and why Dodge Junction wouldn’t work, when a rugged stallion came up and sat down beside him. Braeburn turned to look over the newcomer. He was an earth pony like Braeburn was, covered in a greyish-brown coat. He had a roughly brushed mane and tail of a deep charcoal grey and his eyes were a brilliant chartreuse green like Braeburn’s were. He had patches of stubble at the end of his muzzle around his mouth and boasted a cutie mark of a brilliant gold skull with gems for eyes. Braeburn didn’t recognize a stallion of this sort around Appleoosa before and wondered if he was passing through; judging from his rather unkempt appearance and the wrinkles present in his tan collared shirt, he might have been travelling long.

“Bartender,” the stallion called in a gruff voice. “Can I get a pint of whatever that guy at the end is having?”

The bartender nodded but didn’t say anything. This wasn’t unusual; Braeburn had known the bartender ever since the latter moved to Appleoosa and by now they were on friendly terms. But this stallion was a newcomer and everyone knew it; in a small town like Appleoosa, new faces are noticed quickly. Braeburn thought nothing of him and returned to his salt lick.

“Hey,” the gruff voice came back. “I’m talking to you, apple butt.”

Braeburn turned around to face the stallion. Braeburn noticed his mouth seemed to be in a perpetual frown and his eyebrows were tilted inwards at a slight angle as though he was mad at something, though the tone of his voice didn’t match it. “What do you do around here?”

Braeburn turned around and leaned on the counter with a single hoof. “I’m the owner of a nearby apple orchard. There somethin’ you need? I could show you around town.”

“Nah,” the stallion said. “That’d take too long. I thought you were someone who wasted his time drinking in a bar all day.”

“You could talk to the stallion at the other end there,” Braeburn motioned. The stallion followed his hoof to the pony with a now nearly empty pint. “He’s a farmer like myself, but now that the harvest season’s over, he’ll be drinkin’ himself to the floor all day until the plantin’ season begins.”

The stallion turned back to Braeburn as the bartender finally brought over a pint of golden liquid, which the stallion drank a fair amount in one gulp and loudly exhaled. “Much obliged, but I’d rather not have somepony who’s killed off one too many brain cells.” He nodded towards the salt lick. “That all you had today?”

“All I plan on havin’,” Braeburn responded. “So who are you, anyway? I ain’t ever seen you in Appleoosa before.”

“And if all works out well enough, you’ll never see me here again,” the stallion said somewhat dismissively. But he turned and bowed rather gracefully to Braeburn. “The name’s Dr. Caballeron. I’m an archaeologist by trade, earning my Ph.D. in archaeology and a Master’s in equinology at Canterlot University.”

“Headed there myself,” Braeburn said. “I’ve got Master’s degrees in Biology and Agriculture and a Bachelor’s in Business from there.”

Caballeron smirked. “So you’re actually a smart one, huh? Never expected so many degrees out of a simple farm pony.”

“Most don’t,” Braeburn said, taking a lick of his salt block. “But that’s what you need if you want to run your own farm. There’s biology and agriculture to understand how the land works, and business to know how to sell your product and make a profit, as well as allocatin’ when and where to buy supplies needed. Most of what I know from those is more in terms of practical experience.”

“Well, I need a practical pony for something.” Caballeron took another long drink of his pint and slammed it back down on the table. “And it looks like you’ve got the strength, too, like a few years of applebucking in those legs.”

“What are you needin’ somepony like me for, Mister Caballeron?”

“I’d prefer to be addressed as ‘Doctor’, if you don’t mind,” Dr. Caballeron replied. “I do have the degree. And I am on the trail of a particular item. However, I’m not from around here. I have some other stallions with me to help me out on my job, but I don’t have the local experience.”

“Where’s the rest of your little party, then?”

“Oh, they’re awaiting my return in Dodge Junction. That’s where we’d be setting out from. But I’m afraid I can’t go into any more detail on that, at the moment. Suffice it to say I’d need someone who knows the area. You’re smart, you’re a local, and you look like you have strength to match.”

Braeburn shrugged. “So, why me? Why come all the way out here to little Appleoosa and search for someone instead of findin’ someone else in Dodge Junction?”

“You’re forgetting one of the conditions. You’re smart. Your three degrees tell me that. Meanwhile, you can’t find anyone with half a brain in Dodge Junction. Either they’re obsessed with the gambling tables or they drink their stores dry or they’re too interested in the company of a lady. I like to relax, but you can’t find someone in Dodge that can tear themselves away.

Braeburn nodded. “Rather prefer to keep myself out of that place. Close as I want to get to Tartarus.”

Dr. Caballeron laughed so hard he spilt some of his drink on the bar counter; the bartender shot him an angry glance but he didn’t notice. “And you have a sense of wit! I like you and would like to have you along.”

Braeburn shook his head. “Much as I wouldn’t normally mind, I would like to keep myself out of other’s business.”

Dr. Caballeron put a hoof on the counter to match Braeburn’s position. “Look, you’ve got two months to wait until the next planting season and the winter rains. What are you going to do until then? Come back here and drink yourself into monotony?”

Braeburn didn’t respond. He simply took another lick of his salt block.

“Your work wouldn’t go unpaid, by the way. I can afford with my position and the mission at hand to pay you a small percentage out of pocket as a reward as well as a bit of credit. It won’t take too long, either; just a couple of weeks at most. Then you’ll be back as though nothing happened but a few bits richer.”

Braeburn took another lick of his salt block. “You make a convincing argument. But I’m afraid I can’t go into this without knowing what I’m doing.”

Dr. Caballeron took another long drink that emptied his glass. “You know what? You’re right. How about this: you come on down to Dodge Junction with me tomorrow. We go out on the town a little, discuss the arrangement of what would be going on, and if you’re not satisfied with it, you’ll have gained a few days in Dodge Junction for free.”

“You’d be willing to pay for a train ride, hotel stay, and whatever provisions for me even if I were to say ‘no’?” Braeburn asked dubiously.

“You’re smarter than most I’ve met,” Dr. Caballeron said jovially as he put a hoof around Braeburn’s shoulders. “Even if you weren’t going along with, your company would have at least taken away some of the mind-numbing idiocy that is Dodge Junction.”

Braeburn wasn’t sure about it. “What time does your train leave tomorrow?”

“About ten in the morning.”

Braeburn nodded. “I’ll meet you at nine forty-five if I decide to show up.”

Dr. Caballeron smiled. “Excellent! At least we’ve worked out something of a deal. Fair enough; if you don’t show by nine forty-five, I shall not expect you to join me. Now, I should see if I can’t buy a few supplies here in case they’re cheaper than Dodge Junction, so I must bid you farewell for the time being.” He got off the counter and started walking out the door before he turned around and faced Braeburn again. “I’m afraid I never got your name.”

Braeburn tipped his hat. “Braeburn. Braeburn Apple.”

Dr. Caballeron bowed gracefully again. “Pleasure to make your acquaintance, Master Braeburn. I hope you should take up my little offer. Oh, and before I go…” Dr. Caballeron reached into a small bag tied at his waist and pulled out four gold coins, tossing them at the counter and landing them into the glass. He made to leave again, but pulled out another bit and tossed it over his shoulder so that it landed on the counter behind him. “And here’s a tip for the drink.”

The bartender actually turned around and managed to vocalize an astounded “thank you”.

Dr. Caballeron smirked again and laughed to himself, finally turning around and leaving the quiet saloon.

Braeburn looked at the gold coins; four in the glass and one on the counter. “He actually paid you full price,” he said to the bartender.

“Why do you think I said ‘thank you’?” the bartender said, mildly amused. “He’s one of the first outsiders to actually pay full price. Still, I didn’t much like the look of him. He talks like a big wig, but he looks like someone who barely managed to crawl out from Dodge Junction.”

“So you think he’s a cheat?”

“I said nothing of the sort. He just seems unsavory. You were right to question why he needs to come out here.”

Braeburn shrugged and licked his salt lick a few more times before placing four bits down on the table. The bartender came and scooped them up before placing a small glass of water in front of Braeburn. The stallion came over and took the bits, placing them in his regular cash drawer.

“Will that be all for you today, Braeburn?” the bartender said.

Braeburn nodded and started walking out of the saloon. “I need to head home, check on the trees and make sure nothin’ is eatin’ at them. Have a good day.”

The bartender nodded. “Take care.”