Tales From The West: Grit & Lead

by Docks

Chapter Three: Hard Knocks

Chapter Three

Ballad yawned as he got up from his seat to stretch his joints. “So, how are you youngsters likin’ the story so far, up to your standards kids?” The old stallion heartily asked.

“Yes! Oh the part where the stallion took on all six of those gang members was like a scene straight out of one of my Fallout: Equestria movies.” Sugar Sap exclaimed whilst she pantomimed the act of shooting with her hooves.

“How ‘bout you Dusty, yer’ cousin is likin’ it so far how ‘bout you?” The colt’s grandfather asked.

“Ooooh. I did enjoy the little moments between Thistle and Bitter Sweet. Yeah...” Dusty meekly replied. The mare next to him began to buckle down in laughter. “What a softy!” Sugar Sap taunted.

The young stallion’s face began to redden as he turned to face Sugar Sap.“What’s wrong with being sensitive! At least I’m not some boorish jerk!” Dusty rapidly fired back.

“Who you callin’ a jerk!?” Sugar Sap yelled. The two teenagers began to bicker and scream, each getting louder as the two ponies continued their war of words.

Ballad let out a sigh and rubbed his wrinkled face with a hoof. “That’s enough outta ya’ two! You want me to stop tellin’ the story and make you ponies help me catalog my whole damned file system instead?!” The old stallion shouted in an attempt to stop the bickering amongst his grandfoals.

Dusty and Sugar Sap quickly disengaged from their verbal duel as they saw the old stallion’s annoyed demeanor. The two ponies quickly blurted quickly blurted out an apology to their grandfather and focused back upon the wrinkled stallion.

“That’s better! Now let’s see, where the hay did I leave off from...”

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Darkness began to creep over the vast desert vista, covering the caravan in an eerie light. Thistle finished the final touches of needle work on his poncho as the moon began to rise to its highest point.

The stallion propped his garment up with a hoof and turned it towards the direction of the moon’s light to get a better look at his finished work. He traced his hoof along the newly created red bar that went across his garb. Satisfied with what was done the earth pony quickly placed it back on. The earth pony carefully maneuvered through the carriage’s contents of boxes and barrels as he made his way toward the carriage’s open front.

“Hey, how much longer till we get to our destination?” Thistle called out to the pony responsible for pulling his carriage.

“Shoot, we’ve got another day and half of rough travel till we get to Cross Roads mister and that’s not accounting for the roaming war bands of buffalo.” Responded the strained driver.

“Buffalo?” Thistle asked in a surprised tone. “Thought they’ve all moved on to the northern parts of the Frontier.”

“Well that’s what the Royal Guard wants ye’ to believe. You see it’s been a decade since those buffalo signed their peace treaties with the Royal Guard, but some of them didn’t take too kindly to bein’ forced off their lands.” The fatigued pony let out a burst of coughs before resuming his answer. “Sorry ‘bout that, so now we got a buncha mad buffalo causin’ all kinds of trouble ‘round here.”

“Well if there still some buffalo still out here, why hasn’t the Royal Guard done anything about it?” The carriage’s occupant inquired.

The carriage driver let out a gruff chuckle. “Not keepin’ up with current events mister? You didn’t hear about the conflict that’s brewin’ up north wid them gryphon types?”

Thistle’s face scrunched up in surprise as the driver told him of the growing border disputes between Equestria and its gryphon neighbors to the north. “So I take it the Royal Guard ain’t keen on marchin’ around the Frontier anymore?” Thistle implied.

“Bingo! So everypony needs to be bright n’ aware incase those buffalo varmints do decide to show up and give us a bit of troub--Hold on now.” The carriage began to slow down in response to its counterpart in front doing the same. “Hmmm, looks like the boss is decidin’ to take a break here.”

Soon, the rest of the caravan came to a steady halt. “You know the drills colts n’ fillies.” Yelled a gruff voice. The sound of ponies busy with work echoed across the moonlight covered desert. Ponies began to unhitch their companions from their burdens, whilst others began to set up a makeshift camp next to the train of wagons. Thistle slowly climbed out of his own carriage and joined the rest of the crew in their work.

Several hours of hard labor passed before the makeshift camp was ready. A collection of sleeping mats encircled a single massive fire pit that illuminated the camp. Two ponies with a large cast iron pot dangling between them immediately made their way to the burning pit. The cooks placed the pot on top of the glowing embers and began to work, placing water and a growing amount of random vegetables into the simmering gruel.

Upon finishing their endeavor one of the chefs levitated an iron triangle above his head and began to gentle ring the instrument with his horn’s magic. The simple instrument’s noise filled the camp with its distinct ringing and soon ponies began to swarm the fire pit. Thistle was one of the last to receive their rations of the chefs’ gray slop. The stallion made his way to the farthest sleeping bag he could find, passing by other ponies as they gossiped or slept. The stallion sat himself down upon the rough cloth and sniffed the odorless goop.

“Guh...” Thistle was about to take his first taste of the mystery soup but was interrupted by a burly sand coated earth pony sitting themselves down upon the vacant mat next to him.

“Remember me? Of course ya’ don’t. All ye could see was the back of mah head, Heheheh!” The stallion joked as he offered a hoof towards Thistle. The gunslinger returned the newcomer’s offer. “The carriage driver I was talkin’ to a couple of hours ago right?”

The stallion nodded his head before quickly attacking his own bowl of food. “It ain’t really all that bad as it seems.” The carriage driver claimed in between mouthfuls of the mushy slop. Thistle stared at his own bowl with mild trepidation. The pony next to him let out a massive belch as he finished his last gulp of food and motioned to Thistle to start his own.

The stallion slowly began to lower his head to the small brown bowl and held it in his left hoof. Thistle crumpled his lips to minimize the intake of the mystery slop and took his first taste of the broth.

“Hmmm. Sure as hay doesn’t taste as bad it looks.” Thistle declared as he began to take larger sips of the bowl’s contents.

“Caravan food ain’t known for its looks but it gets the job finished. Names Soft Touch by the way.” The carriage driver stated. “Nice to meet ya. You can just call me Thistle.” The now sated earth pony replied.

Soft Touch's eyes began to brighten as the name of his new acquaintance began to sink in. “So yer the pony that the town we stopped in for supplies was goin’ crazy fer!” Soft Touch exclaimed. “I didn’t get a good look at ya when we were in Agua Fria, too busy helpin’ to pack the carriages ‘n what not. So is it really true? Did you really take down six armed bandits by yer’ lonesome?”

Thistle nodded his head as he placed the now empty bowl to his side. Soft Touch let out a small whistle in admiration. “Shoot. Wish I coulda seen that spectacle...Anyway, it’s gettin’ late, maybe you can tell me how you managed somethin’ like that tomorrow.” The stallion let out a large yawn before laying down upon his mat. “It was nice meetin’ ya Mister Thistle.” Soft Touch softly said before shutting his eyes.

Thistle grunted in acknowledgement as he began to feel the need to sleep overtake him. Too tired to unbuckle his gear, the stallion laid down upon the rough sleeping mat and drifted off to sleep.

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“Where the hay is that boy. I told him time ‘n time again not to go runnin’ off!”

“There you are! What in Tartarus are ya’ doin outside boy? I told ya there’s ah storm bein’ brewed up by them pegasi, now come inside before ya catch the influenza.”

“Ahhhhhh. But dad I wanna watch the pegasus ponies make the thunder clouds!”

“I don’t wanna hear any excuses boy. I wanna see you marching straight back into the house right this instance.”

“….”

“Don’t give me that look son...Tell you what, after we pick up yer mother from town I’ll start teachin’ ya you know what.”

“Yes! Yes! Yes! Yes!”

“Settle down, but you’ve got to promise to me that you won’t tell yer mother about it. Deal?”

“Yes!”

“Good, now get yerself into bed. We got a big day ahead of us…”

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“I want everypony up an’ moving right now!”

The sun began to rise over the desert and quickly blanketed it’s light over the small encampment. “Damnit...” Thistle grumbled as he got up from his mat to find the culprit responsible for disturbing his sleep.

Thistle began to clear the debris that collected around his eyes and soon began to notice ponies frantically moving about the camp.

“Shift yerself Thistle. I think we’re all gonna be in a load of trouble real soon.” A rough voice called out.

The stallion turned around and noticed the pony he was talking to last night hastily trotting towards him. Thistle raised an eye as he noticed a lever-action rifle dangling at the burly pony’s side. “Soft Touch right? What the hay is goin’?” The confused stallion exclaimed.

“One of the ponies on guard duty spotted a group of forty buffalo headin’ straight for us. We’ve got a couple of minutes before they show up.” The carriage driver briefly explained as he offered a hoof to the still seated stallion. Thistle thanked Soft Touch as he was helped onto his hooves.

“You ever fought with a buffalo before Thistle?” Soft Touch bitterly asked. The pony in question shook his head before checking his own equipment.

“I have, and let me tell ya it ain’t pretty. Those blighters are bigger than two earth ponies put together, stronger than anypony else to boot.” Soft Touch asserted as he wiped a bead of sweat from his forehead.“The worst of it is they’ve got these horns see? Not long enough to impale ya’ outright, but still sharp enough to do some real damage.”

“Any tips on how to deal with them” Thistle dryly asked.

Soft Touch let out a gruff snort. “Don’t let um’ get up close. All I can say. Now let’s go find ourselves someplace to hunker down.” The two ponies made their way to the camp’s center and saw the rest of the caravan were busy making their final touches to a makeshift barricade made from the caravan’s cargo.

“Hope we have some of the goods still intact after this whole ordeal.” Mumbled one of the workers. “Yer an idiot thinkin’ we can hold them off! It’ll be a damned miracle if we all survive this!” Yelled another. Soft Touch and Thistle found a vacant position behind the center most carriage and the rest of the group fell into their own positions.

Soft Touch began to fiddle with his firearm before balancing it upon the carriage’s wooden frame. “See anything yet?” Thistle quietly asked. The stallion shook his head as began to scan the flat desert for any signs of the buffalo. “Hold on...By the sun!” Soft Touch cried as he looked down the sights of his rifle.

“That bad huh?” Thistle crassly mused.

“Look fer yerself.” Thistle poked his head above the carriage and saw why his companion was so spooked. The stallion saw a massive sea of furred bodies racing across the desert plain and heading straight for the line of wagons.

Soft Touch wiped little beads of sweat from his forehead and placed a hoof through his rifle’s trigger. “If I had to guess, those bastards are only a mile away now.” The pony slowly muttered.

Soon the camp’s frantic activity was drowned out by the quaking racket of the marauding buffalo. The atmosphere amongst the caravan ponies was a mix of anxiety and fear with only a few of the defenders showing any sense of resolve.

The advancing buffalo began to yell and chant as they got closer to the caravan line; their war cries adding to the caravan’s faltering nerves. Thistle kept his eyes fixed upon the oncoming onslaught and caught his first glimpse of the buffalo’s leader. Their leader had a headdress of feathers adorning the top of his head and his entire face was painted a ghostly white.

“Alright you ponies, listen up! I don’t want y’all to start firin’ till I give the signal!” The caravan’s leader commanded. The sound of loading and cocking of weaponry echoed amongst the distressed ponies.

The lead pony looked at the oncoming mass and held a hoof up before signaling to the group. “Fire!” The caravan line was immediately enveloped by white smoke as the ponies let loose their first salvo of lead.

“How many did we get?” A pony frantically yelled.

“Does it matter? Keep firing till there’s nuttin’ to shoot at!” Ordered another pony. The beleaguered ponies continued to maintain their desperate volley of fire. After a full minute of continuous firing, the echo of their guns soon gave way to a few measly cracks of gunfire.

“Shit...I’m out!” A unicorn called out and soon similar calls amongst the group followed suit. The group of ponies began to frantically search for any other means to defend themselves. Eventually, panic began to set in amongst the caravan line as the war-cries’ of the charging buffalo became coherent. “Onward my brothers! We shall punish these trespassers for what they have done to our homes and families!” A booming voice roared.

Soft Touch sighted a buffalo and squeezed off his final shot. “Missed! How you holdin’ up Thistle?” The stallion hurriedly asked as he looked at the pony next to him. Thistle holstered his revolver as he shook his head. “This ain’t lookin’ good.”

Soft Touch popped his head over his cover and let out a shout of dismay at the sight in front of him. “Hope yer good wit’ your hooves then.” The stallion gingerly stated. Although, the buffalo war-band’s numbers were diminished by the hail of bullets; they continued to press towards the carriage line. The defenders’ began to disintegrate as ponies fled from the carriages and attempted to escape the impending wave of death.

Only a few meters separated the buffalo and their goal; the horde of buffalo crossed the final gap and surged forward. The mass of buffalo warriors smashed their way through the wooden carriages and began to set upon the woefully unprepared ponies before them. With only spades and other miscellaneous tools to defend themselves, the caravan began to rapidly succumb to the superior strength of the buffalo.

“Look my brothers! Look at how easily they are routed! Let them know we will not tolerate their presence here no longer!” The warband’s leader thundered out as he quickly dispatched a pony with a swipe of his horned head. The camp was quickly engulfed by anguished screams and merciless chants.

Thistle and Soft Touch moved through the chaos that surrounded them and headed for the outskirts of the camp. “I think it’s best...if...we split up” Soft Touch advised through gasps of air.

“Too late for that now, got a pair of buffalo headin’ right for us.” His companion dourly pointed out. Soft Touch looked up from his brief respite to see two imposing buffalo charging at the pair before halting a few feet away from the two earth ponies.

“Wonderful! One pony for each of us!”One buffalo exclaimed.

“Which would you prefer?” The other politely asked.

The two buffalos briefly ignored the two and began to discuss the matter of who gets who amongst themselves. “Hmmm, I am quite fond of the color tan...” As the two buffalo were busy discussing which pony was the most fragile of the pair; Soft Touch began to frantically search for the escape route that offered the highest chance of survival. Thistle noticed the worried stallion’s searching eyes and leaned his head closer to the sweating pony.

“See anyway outta this?” Thistle whispered.

“Yes and it involves galloping as fast as buckin’ possible.” Soft Touch bluntly replied.

“You think we can outrun these two?”

“No, no not really. But you know what they say, fortune favors the bold.” The carriage driver half heartedly joked.

The pair of buffalo interrupted their discussion of preferences and noticed the two ponies beginning to tense and it eventually dawned upon them what the pair’s intentions were.

Soft Touch was the first to gallop and easily side-stepped the pair of buffalo; his compatriot quickly followed suit but had to immediately halt as one of the buffalo intercepted the gunslinger’s intended route.

“Oh ancestors! Quickly, go after that one while I deal with this little pony!” Motioned the buffalo blocking Thistle. His companion nodded his head before galloping after his quarry. Thistle backed a few paces away as the buffalo in front of him lowered his head and began to slowly advance upon him.

“Why bother struggling? You ponies are pitiful without your precious guns.” The buffalo taunted as he continued to pace towards the earth pony.

Thistle gritted his teeth in response and stared straight at his opponent. “Try me.” The stallion goaded as his body began to tense in anticipation of the buffalo’s charge. The buffalo did the opposite of what the stallion expected and instead quickly lunged at the pony’s legs with a keen horn.

The surprised stallion let out a curt swear as he narrowly avoided the buffalo’s attack and was forced into adopting a defensive stance. The buffalo continued to pressure his opponent, switching between attacking the pony’s fore legs or torso. The smaller and nimbler pony was able to dodge every swipe, but began to show signs of fatigue.

The fast breathing stallion noticed the buffalo beginning to tire from his constant aggression and quickly shifted his body around, throwing out a quick buck with both hooves. Thistle felt his two hooves connect with the buffalo’s thick body and quickly spun around to face his opponent once more.

The buffalo’s legs buckled in response to the forceful strike that managed to land on his upper body. Thistle was about to deliver another blow to the buffalo, but had to rear on his hind legs as the buffalo was quick to recuperate and steady himself.

The two combatants backed off as they both began to think of a way to outmaneuver their counterpart. “You know how to fight--I’ll give you that much...” The tired buffalo commended through ragged gasps of air. Thistle replied with a snort and assumed a defensive posture once more.

Pony and buffalo began to circle around each other; both waiting for the other to make the first move. The buffalo struck first and feigned a lunge at the stallion. Thistle instinctively jumped away, but quickly realized what the buffalo’s intentions were. His opponent’s left horn was fixed in the dirt and with a slight flick of his head sent a clump of debris straight at the unexpecting pony’s face.

Thistle dropped his guard immediately as he began to frantically scrub the stinging dirt from his eyes. Upon seeing his success the buffalo went in for the killing blow and charged straight for the vulnerable stallion. Thistle was able to clear one of his eyes in time and barely side-stepped the charging mass of fur and horns.

The buffalo began to heavily pant as he slowly spun around to face his opponent. Sensing the buffalo’s weakness, Thistle quickly galloped towards the tired buffalo. The buffalo saw the pony heading for him and lowered his head in preparation for the charging stallion. Thistle ignored the buffalo’s front and went straight for the buffalo’s open midriff. His opponent let out a loud gasp as he struggled to turn his tired body around to try and parry the pony’s imminent strike.

Thistle let out a tremendous grunt as he bucked his hooves out with all his might. The sound of bone shattering flooded into the stallion’s ears as he saw the buffalo’s body lurch several inches into the air; a testament to the being’s imposing nature. The mass of limp meat quickly fell back to the earth with a resounding thud.

Thistle quickly trotted towards the motionless body and prodded the buffalo’s massive body with a hoof. Satisfied with the buffalo’s silence; his body unwound itself and the excess adrenaline coursing through his body slowly dissipated. The sore earth pony’s mind began to clear and he slowly began to notice the current atmosphere around him was calm and quiet.

“Tartarus! Did we win?” Thistle mused to himself as he began to stretch his limbs.

“No.” A thunderous voice interjected. The stallion flinched before spinning around to face a white faced buffalo and another nineteen buffalo right behind him.

“Buck..So what are you gonna do to me?” Thistle growled through gritted teeth.

“Nothing.” The pale faced buffalo declared.

Thistle shook his head as he tried to register the massive buffalo’s words. “It amazes me that a pony would show such trepidation when being told they will be spared.” The buffalo snorted. Thistle began to wipe dirt off of his face as he stared into the buffalo’s chocolate hued eyes. “So what makes me special from all the other ponies you killed this mornin’?” The buffalo’s leader responded by pointing a stubby leg at the body of Thistle’s former opponent.

“It is a rare feat for a pony to best a buffalo in honorable combat.” The buffalo let out an indignant breath before continuing. “Yet here you stand,whilst one of my brethren lies broken and shattered.” The grizzled buffalo begrudgingly stated. “That act alone has earned you your life, for now.” He finished whilst motioning to his remaining band of warriors to begin looting the encampment.

Thistle spat a wad of saliva out as he broke eye contact with the buffalo. “Just like that huh? You’re just gonna let me walk outta here?” The stallion quizzically questioned.

“I didn’t say anything about you leaving this spot...”

Thistle turned around to object but was greeted by a blurred hoof about to crash into his face. The stallion’s body crumpled over before hitting the dry earth underneath. The buffalo grunted to himself before lowering his head near the unconscious pony’s ear. “I don’t know why the ancestors have casted their favor upon a pony. But we’ll see if they continue to deem you worthy and if they do, I will be expecting to see your face very soon.”