Chapter 1
Things took a turn for Applejack one fall morning.
She had just finished tending to a sick cow laying in the back forty when she saw the unmistakable silhouette of her brother in the distance, making his slow, plodding way towards her.
He was a massive man, lumbering close to seven feet tall, and had the strength to match his looks; strength he was supposed to be using right now to haul out the barrels so she could get them cleaned and patched before next harvest. As he approached, Applejack had to wonder what pulled him off his work.
“There ya are, Jacqueline,” he drawled out, giving a run of his thumbs over his suspenders as he took in the crisp autumn air.
She wasn’t a fan of her real name. Jacqueline never had the same ring to it as the nickname she had earned over the years thanks to the family hobby, so she only really tolerated her big brother calling her variations of it due to their history together.
Not that she had to like it, though.
“What ya need, Macaroon?” she answered, using her own irritating pet name on the man. Like usual, he only offered a slight raise of his brow at the response, accustomed to his sister’s teasing. She was glad the modern-day Goliath had inherited their mother’s gentle heart.
“There’s a real tomato waitin’ fer ya back at the house,” he said, scratching at his seemingly ever-present stubble across his chin. Applejack had told him time and time again that he wouldn’t get the eye of any of the dames around town if he didn’t take care of himself, but he offered no real attempt at gussying up despite her warnings.
“Huh,” AJ said, “wasn’t expectin’ any company today. ‘Cora?”
“Enope,” Mac drawled out. “If it was her, I could talk, but...”
Her brother was painfully shy. Thanks to that, Applejack had to be the face of the farm most times, handling day-to-day transactions and a lot of the more delicate issues the business faced on the average day, especially with some of the out-of-towners that found out it was ran by a woman and not the elder of the Pomme clan.
AJ sighed, rolling up her long sleeves.
“Alright then, let’s jus’ see what the kitten wants.”
They walked across the fields, AJ leading the way, Mac trailing behind like a loyal dog. They were joined by AJ’s actual loyal dog about halfway there. She barked at AJ, spinning around in excitement, probably from the guest arriving. The dog loved company. She was a terrible guard dog, but AJ didn’t mind. It was better being approachable, after all. That was why she never wore her dungarees off the farm; she knew she was bigger and stronger than other broads, and it could put folks on edge. Around town she made sure to doll herself up enough to look respectable and catch a glance from from the local guys, rather than just letting her hair down. A good smile, a bat of eyelashes and most thought more seriously about the provisions the family sold at market, stopped a mite longer at the stand to look over the girl, and in turn, the goods she carried, both literally and figuratively.
Though she wasn’t like a certain canary she knew. No one would mistake Applejack for a big city fashion plate, and she wasn’t the type to lure people into sales using her feminine wiles. She was sincere and upright with people, never leading them on with promises that were never spoken or delivered upon. AJ just knew what sold sometimes, and used the occasional wink and laugh to help with the sale.
They made their way up to the worn, rustic porch, where a figure paced across the oak planks, letting a creak across a certain plank with every step that was made across it.
AJ recognized the figure’s lanky form instantly, and as she did, she felt her heart give a small, weak flutter.
The girl looked up and gave a grin as her eyes landed on AJ. “Hey, sister, what’s cookin’?”
“Well, might have some stew in a few hours, Mac caught a rabbit earlier.” AJ’s smile matched the girl’s and she stepped forward, meeting her in a quick hug. “Though I ain’t sure ‘bout givin’ some ta a stranger like yerself.”
Dash had changed a bit. Her rainbow hair was cut in a messy bob, and instead of dungarees she wore a man’s suit and a driver’s cap. But the suit looked rumpled and maybe even slept in, like her clothes always had, and she hugged with the same nervous energy AJ knew well.
“Bullshit, I saw the hobo scratches on your gate. Everyone knows you’re a soft touch.”
AJ gave a dismissive wave of her hand. “I dunno ‘bout that, sug. I think it musta been Mac who notched ‘em. Ya know I’m a hardass.”
Mac let a small snort out at that, looking between the two with a smile of his own. Finally, he rose, walking past them and tossing the screen door open.
“Reckon I ought ta get the meal ready fer you an’ yer hobo friend,” he said, stepping inside.
“Got him trained pretty well, huh?” AJ asked, stretching her hands up over her head and scraping at the roof of the porch.
“Pfft. Like that’s hard. If there’s a palooka who wouldn’t know how to tie his shoes without some broad, it’s Mac,” Dash said, but she kept half an eye on the door. Probably to make sure he was still out of earshot.
“Sounds ‘bout right. He’s gonna need a saint ta put up with him.” She laughed under her breath, her smile turning warm and a hair sentimental as she looked at the girl. “It’s been too long since you’ve been ta the cave. I’ve missed ya.”
“I’ve been busy!” Dash grinned, but there was something strained about it. “Real busy. I got a lotta… stuff going on. But I got some time, and I thought ‘I wonder if that blonde chickadee is still kickin’ around the farm,’ so I thought I’d drop by!” The grin relaxed into a smile that was clearly genuine. “I’ve missed you too, AJ.”
Then why’d ya split? she almost asked, but held her tongue. Dash was a runner, an explorer, always had been. Applejack was more of a rock. Stationary, passive, unyielding. The farm was her and she was the farm. It’d take a lot to push her off of it. Instead of pressing on the question she wanted to ask, she gave a push to Dash’s shoulder. “So, this stuff… ya some lucky sap’s flame nowadays?”
A dark look flashed across Dash’s face, replaced lightning fast by that strained grin. “They all wish I was, but you know me. There’s not a cat out there that can catch this mouse. What about you? You've been practicing long enough on Mac, have you found some poor slob to whip into shape yet?”
AJ gave a belly laugh. “Any fella I whip’s liable ta have his back broken. Nah. Ain’t a sweet mama like you are, the boys don’t fawn ‘round my feet.” The farmer scratched at a cheek after a moment. When it came to peeling Dash open and getting to problems, she knew she had to soften the blow. Puffing up Dash’s ego before plugging her was the usual way AJ went about it.
“Though I do know ya, sug,” Applejack said with a tap against Dash’s forehead. “Ya got somethin’ that’s gummin’ yer gears. Gimme the low down.”
“You kidding? I’m cool as a cucumber.” Dash gave a sideways glance, but Applejack’s face made it clear she wasn’t buying it. “I mean, mostly. I might be in a tiny jam,” she admitted with a shrug. “You know how it goes. Some bad luck with the baseball season. And the ponies. And dice… but that one wasn’t my fault, I was lit up! Anyway, I owe a guy.”
“Uh huh,” AJ dryly replied, raising a brow and crossing her arms, looking briefly like an irritated mother rather than a friend. “An’ how much, exactly, do ya owe this guy?”
“Uh…” Dash rubbed the back of her neck, looking everywhere but at AJ. “Half a grand. Something like that.”
“Half a Goddamn grand?!” AJ shouted, then covered her mouth in embarrassment at the expletive. “That’s more than bad luck with baseball, how did you blow that much?!” She ran her hand over her brow. “A hundred an’ I could maybe do somethin’ fer ya, but…”
“It didn’t start out as that much! I lost a buck here, twenty there… I had notes all over town. I talked to this guy about a loan, to get everything clear. Then he let me go double or nothing on it.”
“What kinda loan? I know ya don’t have credit fer no good bank.” She pushed a finger to Dash’s shoulder, this time a bit harder than her earlier teasing. “Don’t tell me yer so dumb that ya did what I think ya did.”
Dash threw up her hands in a wild shrug. “What was I supposed to do? I knew the guy, he’s one of Will Taurino’s boys, and he didn’t even work me over too hard on interest… I mean, he wouldn’t have if the bet hadn’t doubled that, too.”
“I know that name. I know that name an’ I’m out in the damn boonies, Evelyn Hammett what have ya done? No wonder ya came here—ain’t ‘bout visitin’, it’s ‘bout hidin’, ain’t it? I know Taurino, an I know he’s lookin’ fer his bank. That’s why ya came back ta me,” she spat out, tapping at her own chest. To me. Not to here. To me, she thought, but dismissed it, narrowing her brow at the woman to shut herself up.
“I came back ‘cause I knew you’d help me! I knew if I could count on anyone in the world, I could count on you.” Dash looked at her with big puppy dog eyes, but there was real desperation there that she wasn’t even trying to hide. “You’ve gotta help me, AJ.”
“Ya know I don’t have that kinda bacon, even if I sold every piece of land under my feet. Not that Mac would let me. Jus’...” she rubbed her brow in frustration. “Ya know yer always welcome here. At least we’ll get a hot meal, cool bath an’ a warm bed while we think this over. Alright, sug?”
Dash grinned. “For now, anyplace my kneecaps are likely to stay in one piece is golden. And just gimme some time off the cooker, I’ll think of something.”
“An’ Dash?” AJ muttered out as they turned to go inside. The other paused, looking at her and Applejack shook her head, giving a press down onto Dash’s head with her meaty hand. “I’m glad yer back. But yer a real genius, ya know that? ”
Applejack’s promise was golden; after dinner and a bath, Dash passed right out, and for a brief moment it looked like she forgot about the weight on her shoulders. Morning came and the Pomme clan took off with the same zeal they approached every day: Macintosh made busy with milking the cows and tending to the hogs while Applejack herself tended the groves of trees housing the very plant her moniker came from. Their early day chores done, the siblings were back to the porch before Evelyn ever roused up from sleep. They sat at the steps, enjoying the brief moment of rest before more work.
Macintosh rolled a cigarette from a pouch of tobacco and handed it to AJ; the woman reached into her back pocket and pulled out a book of matches. Striking one, she lit her smoke, then leaned over, lighting Mac’s.
He stared off into the distance for a while, mulling something over, before glancing at his sister.
“Well, Jacquline, you and that girl have a nice lil’ catchup?” he asked.
“Ring-a-ding-ding, as the city-folk say,” AJ answered, giving a small roll of her finger to empathize. “Wasn’t too shabby.”
“Good broad, fer a hobo,” he said, AJ gave a small laugh at that.
After a beat, he continued, “but I wonder what’s got ya down, if the visit was good?”
Applejack said nothing. Macintosh, despite people around town considering him slow, wasn’t in the slightest. He was methodical and observant and because of that, AJ knew she couldn’t lie to him.
That, and it was a matter of respect. Though he didn’t share much, what Mac did say she knew was sincere when he talked to her. It wouldn’t do being any less honest to him than he was to her.
“Dash has some bread trouble, Macaroon.”
“What else is new?”
“Half a grand’s worth of bread trouble.”
“Half a Goddamn grand?!” he shouted, then covered his mouth in embarrassment at the expletive.
“‘Bout my reaction too,” Applejack agreed with a nod. “Ya know how she is too: playin’ it off like it ain’t nothin’, but it’s gotta be somethin’ fer her ta scram off the city. An’ I wanna help her, but it ain’t like we’re swimmin’ in money.”
Mac said nothing, giving a slow sigh in thought.
From behind, the screen door opened and the subject of their talk stepped outside, yawning and scratching at her multicolored hair and the side of the grease-stained overalls that replaced her suit.
“Mornin’,” she slurred out. Looking to the smokes the siblings were having, she held her hand out to Mac. “Snipe me?” she asked.
Mac complied, rolling the cigarette up and flicking a match to life, lighting her up. He glanced over to his sister, frowning a bit at her morose expression.
“Ya smoke like a man,” he said to his sister suddenly, the words snapping her from her thoughts.
She tilted her head and offered a sort of confused grimace. “What now?”
He pointed to his hand, where his index finger and thumb held the smoke in place, then gestured at her hand, which matched his spot for spot, then cocked his head to Dash, who held her own cigarette in between her index and middle finger.
“Dash an’ ‘Cora hold ‘em right fer dames,” Macintosh explained, giving a small, toothy grin AJ’s way. “Yer an odd duckling.”
“‘Cora…” Dash narrowed her brow in thought. “Oh, the negro from next door? How she doing?”
“Good,” Applejack answered for Macintosh, looking to her hand and making a small adjustment, putting the cigarette between her fingers. The instant she started to talk again, though, she subconsciously shifted the object between a finger and thumb again. “Playin’ sawbones fer the town, takin’ care-a this twit when he overdoes it.” She gave a playful slap to Mac’s broad shoulder.
“Eyup,” he agreed without much fight.
It was about that time that the trio heard the revving of a car bouncing along the rough dirt road leading to their home. It was a sleek thing, long, loud and a vibrant red that no amount of dust kicking up seemed to mute. When it came closer to the homestead proper, Applejack saw the man riding it and gave a wave, as did Macintosh. The man in the car waved back and, after another second’s travel, parked, stepping out and taking off the goggles he wore around his eyes.
He was an older man, middle-aged and trim, wearing a suit that cost more than what the Pomme clan ate on for half a year, but his eyes still held a warmth most people from the big city didn’t have.
“Filthy” Richard was his name. A real butter-and-egg man, his family struck it big during the gold rush, and then Richard himself struck it big again investing heavily in a railway company. Despite what a lot of out-of-towners thought when they heard his nickname, he earned it by playing the game differently than what was to be expected for a man in luxury: he cared deeply about the community, and would routinely join up with any place shorthanded or experiencing an excessive workload, no matter how dirty. In just Applejack’s life, she knew he had done mining, repairing railways, been an undertaker, and had even been an assistant on some of Zecora’s harder patch-up jobs.
The only thing Applejack could hold against him was that his little girl wasn’t a quarter of the man her father was. Everyone in town knew that egg was spoiled rotten.
He smiled, approaching Macintosh and, after taking his glove off, offering his hand.
“Looking plenty rugged, you two,” he addressed the siblings.
“Morinin’, Filthy,” Mac addressed. “Care for a smoke?”
“Not today, son. I hate to say but I have to hit the road soon. Was hoping I could have some of the famous Pomme hooch for a party I’m drawing out with a few close friends.”
Dash’s wide eyes hadn’t left the car since it came into sight. She barely even glanced at Filthy to ask, “Is that the new Raceabout?”
He gave a laugh, nodding. “Good eye, missy. That she is. Beaut, isn’t she? Got her for a steal from a man in Arkansas of all places.”
“‘Course ya did. When did a boy from Arkansas have common sense?” Applejack offered with a grin.
Filthy laughed, then looked back to Dash. “You have an interest in tin cans? Wanna see the girl up close?”
“Hell yeah I do!” she squealed, springing to life. In a split second her cigarette was out and she took a jump off the porch, halfway across the driveway before the rest of them could blink.
“W-we’ll get yer booze ready if yer willin’ ta humor the kid,” AJ offered.
Filthy gave a dismissive wave of his hand. “Not a problem. Not often I have someone enthused by the wheels. I got to take advantage of it.”
The siblings nodded, then headed down into the cellar.
Their distillery wasn’t much on the eyes, either one would tell you that. Or, well, Applejack would, Mac would simply give a small half-tilt of his head. But what they made wasn’t just rot-gut, the kind of drink that would leave a Joe sick and blind. No. Through a little ingenuity, a little superior mash, and a whole lot of advice from their late grandma, the Pomme clan made the good stuff. The great stuff.
They made their way past a set of barrels with balloons covering them. It was a little trick they used to tell when fermentation was done, and it worked wonders, and made their way to the still.
It didn’t take them long to get a batch for Filthy, they had already distilled some hooch a few days prior, luckily for him, as otherwise it’d take about half a day to get the drink through the process. As it was now though, they simply loaded what they had into a set of mason jars and put them into a crate, making sure to seal it up tightly for the man.
“We should really get the tike ta learnin’ this,” Mac commented.
“I ain’t lettin’ her nowhere near this until I know she won’t catch the whole damn thing on fire,” AJ countered, giving a small run of her finger over the copper tubing of the still.
“Good point,” he answered.
Applejack gave a tilt back on the stetson she wore. “Ya think the folks woulda minded us doin’ this?”
Mac gave a shrug of his shoulders. “They gave us a recipe. They taught us this, Jacqueline.”
“A recipe before the whole nation became dry. An’ fer our own use. A family recipe fer family, not fer sellin’.”
“An’ what do ya think coca-cola is?” Mac replied.
“Well, a soda,” AJ replied, not sure what her brother was getting at, exactly.
The man tapped at his forehead. “Secret family recipe that one of them Coca boys decided ta share with the world,” he answered, giving a nod of his head as if it was the gospel truth. “Pretty sure I read it in a book.”
AJ bit her lip in thought. “Well, God knows ya read enough of ‘em. I guess they ain’t steered ya wrong yet.”
“Exactly,” he agreed.
“An’, hell, we’re a Christian-lovin’, church-goin’ family, why do a bunch of self-righteous prudes get ta decide if what we make ain’t fit fer drinkin’? They ain’t no better than us,” she said, a fire starting to come out in her words as she nodded with a bit more vigor as she continued to talk.
“Who’s done this brew makin’ fer years fer the community? Used it ta celebrate weddin’s? Who’s made the hooch ta cure a babe’s toothache?”
“The damn Pommes,” Mac simply said, giving a rise of the crate they held the drink in, to demonstrate.
“Damn right those Pomme sons-of-bitches did it!” she said with exuberance, grinning broadly as she slapped Mac’s back. A moment’s beat and she paused, looking with a bit of weariness at Mac. “An’ try ta cut back on the swearin’, sug. I think the kid’s pickin’ up yer bad habits.”
“Sorry.”
She put a fist to her palm, making a decision. “Uncle Sam can jus’ go ahead an’ suck an egg. I ain’t quit a job before, I ain’t quittin’ a job now. We’re gonna deliver this, an’ ya know what? I’m motivated enough ta make a batch ta celebrate an’ ol’ friend comin’ back ta visit too! Better watch yerself, Mac, I’mma drink you an’ that girl under the table.”
Mac gave a grin. “Jus’ make sure ya can work tomorrow. I don’t wanna haul you ‘round too.”
“Damn straight. I work better when I’m three sheets to the wind,” she answered with a wink. “Now let’s haul this stuff up. Thanks fer the pep talk, sug.”
“Damn right I give good pep talks,” he muttered to himself proudly, following up the stairs after her.
They came back to the car just as Dash brought the hood down, still talking with the passion of a religious zealot to Filthy and wiping the grime of the car off on the set of overalls she wore.
“...anyway, that’s what I’d do under there if I had the lettuce. Not that I’m ever gonna have lettuce, since I can’t find a garage that’ll hire a skirt. That’s what they say, at least, but they’re just green. They know I’d have a set of wheels I could race at Indy if I could just get a foot in the door.”
“I don’t know how you drive, kitten, but if you ride half as good as you steer your way around the guts of a rig...” Filthy trailed off, wiping his own hands on a kerchief from his breast pocket. He held it out for Dash, but noticed that she had already taken care of her hands and put it back into his pocket instead. “Most gals I know are clueless when it comes to the ride. Can’t tell an alternator from a pump. You though? Got a real head for it.”
“Probably the one damn thing she does have a head for,” AJ replied, smirking a bit as Dash stuck her tongue out at her. She looked over to Mac, who automatically headed towards Filthy’s car, loading the crate into the back. “Got ‘bout ten jars. That’ll keep yer company happy?”
“Should be more than enough, old sport. What’s the damage come to?” he asked, reaching to his wallet.
“Let’s jus’ call this an IOU. I ain’t figured out material cost fer a bit, so I’d need ta balance it out ta give ya a fair deal.”
Mac came back to the group by the front of the car. “When do ya figure out cost in the first place? Yer awful at math.”
“Shut up,” AJ replied automatically to the big man. Filthy looked between the siblings, nodding.
“Kippy, lads,” he nodded, putting up his wallet. “I’ll toss you an extra fiver next time we deal as interest, fair?”
“More than,” she agreed, tipping her hat. He gave a wave, turning to go the the door of the car.
“Sorry again about making tracks so quick, but you know how it goes, don’t you?” He paused, looking to Dash before pulling out his wallet again and offering a crisp business card.
“Show ‘em this if you’re ever wanting to make some scratch in a garage. If they give me a ring on the horn, I’ll vouch for you. Still don’t know if I’d trust you behind the wheel like up at the Indy, but anyone that can take care of the tin can is alright in my book.”
Dash grinned and stuck the card in her pocket. “Thanks! I’m coolin’ my heels here at my country estate just now, but when I get back in the swing of things I’ll have ‘em give you a ring!”
Donning his goggles, he gave a wave to the three and hopped in the car, taking off after a moment’s time.
Watching him go off, Applejack let out a whistle, slapping Dash’s back. “Ya musta impressed the boy, him givin’ ya a leg up with his card. Considerin’ what kinda idjit ya normally are, nice bluffin’.”
“No need to bluff when you’re on the level.” Dash smirked, poking AJ’s shoulder. “Some birds just don’t get how sharp I am right off.”
“Lucky them,” she countered. “That said, now that yer up, ya ready ta work off dinner? I know a bit of fence line that needs patched…”
“Will you look at the time? You know, I think I’ve got some big plans…” Dash laughed. “Nah, I guess I owe you. And patching fence can’t be too hard if you daisies do it all the time, right?”
AJ smirked. “Well, we’ll jus’ see, I reckon.”
“Uh, just point me at the fence patcher,” Dash said, glancing around in about every direction they could have been heading.
The afternoon hours vanished like seeds from a dandelion under a breeze. It wasn’t long before they were headed back to the house along the dirt road, gabbing as they went.
“...I can’t believe it took that much wire,” AJ muttered. “An’ can’t believe ya cracked the handles of my pliers.”
“They were rusty anyway. I don’t know how you can even work with tools like that.” Dash waved a hand.
“Because they still had some use in ‘em. We don’t have money fer the farm by throwin’ away things that work.”’
“Speaking of money…”
“Sis!” Alice called out over Dash’s remark. AJ looked over her shoulder to the girl and a smile split her face. The kid bounced along the road at a jog to catch up, the ribbon in her crimson hair bobbing along with every footstep.
“Heya, sweet pea,” AJ said, dropping down to her knee and spreading her arms. The kid ran forward, catching a hug from the woman, then giving a tug to Dash’s arm.
“Yeah, yeah, I see you, no need to blow your wig, kid,” Dash grumbled out, but gave an affectionate pat of Alice’s head despite her words.
“So, what ‘bout money?” Applejack asked. Dash shrugged.
Dash hesitated. “I, uh, was just thinking that it was pretty generous of you giving that Filthy cat your hooch for free. I’d want some money first, that’s all, dollface.”
AJ raised her brow but said nothing. When Dash laid out the compliments, that was usually the perfect time to worry, from the farmer’s own experience over the years when dealing with her. That troublemaking smirk she had, the way she puffed her flat chest out like some proud bird as she schemed. It drove AJ crazy, and she already felt the faint tinges of a warm blush at her cheeks.
Blush? she thought, the word odd to her when it came to Dash. Not wanting to dwell on it, she gave a pat to Alice.
“Go get washed up fer dinner, pumpkin. Me an’ the string-bean’ll follow right after ya.”
Alice nodded and moved on ahead. AJ thought she was a great kid, would turn out probably better than she herself did. Already had shown she was a wizz at math, and, the gearhead to her right aside, was the most mechanically-wired person AJ knew.
After a moment’s pause, Applejack sighed, scratching at her brow. “Alright. What’s rattlin’ in that empty head of yers that virgin ears can’t hear?”
“Just a thought.” Dash studied her always-dirty fingernails. “Like, you know how you said you’d wanna help me out if you could?”
“I did,” AJ agreed with a nod. “What kinda scheme ya draggin’ me inta?”
“No scheme! It’s no scheme! Just a favor. I know this kitten who runs a juice joint in the city… and you’ve got juice…” Dash trailed off, eyeing AJ carefully.
“Yer wanting me to run hooch?” AJ replied, raising a brow. “Seems kinda risky, don’t it? The girl yer talkin’ bout on the up and up? There ain’t no chance we get played, right?”
“No way!” Dash grinned. “Pinkie’s on the level, no question. She’s a barrel of laughs, a real live wire, but that end is tied up tight.”
She leaned back her head in thought on the transaction, going through the motions of a checklist. “So score some of the good stuff fer her an’ take it up. Problem, though. Got wheels? Too risky ta take it onto the train.”
Dash raised an eyebrow at AJ. “We know a fella who’s got wheels…”
At that, the farmer paused, her eye twitching a hair. “Ya ain’t talkin’ ‘bout who I think ya are, right, sug? There’s someone else I’m forgetting with a rig, right? Don’t tell me...”
“It’s gotta be the fastest boiler in this county!” Dash nudged AJ, grinning. “We’d be nuts if we didn’t try to get it off him!”
“You’ve gone an’ done it,” AJ grumbled, putting a hand to her face. “The city’s gone an’ made ya whacky. Even if he loans it to us—an’ he won’t—if we so much as scratch that, he’ll kill us an’ I’ll lose out on one of the best clients in town fer not only the hooch, but fer my crops too.” She paused, another thought coming to her. “An’ do ya even know how ta handle a tin can? Ain’t never even seen ya drive before.”
“Do I know how to handle a tin can?” Dash’s incredulous look contained a hint of a smile. “Do you know who you’re talking to? I’m the best racer in the country! I mean, they won’t let me really race, but I won every damn time I got a shot on the back roads outside the city. This one time I got up to seventy miles per hour in a God damn Ford!”
“Seventy?” Applejack repeated, a smile threatening to come out on hearing the number. “God’s honest? There’s no way. Is there? How’d ya manage that?”
Dash just smirked and poked AJ in the shoulder. “I’m. The. Tops.”
“Top of the twits, maybe,” Applejack countered, giving an affectionate flick of a finger to Dash’s forehead. “Though maybe I’ll keep ya ‘round fer entertainment, girl.” She shook her head. “If you can promise me ya ain’t gonna wreck his wheels, we’ll go talk ta him ‘bout borrowin’ the ride. I’m gonna trust ya here, sug. Don’t let me down.”
“It’ll be fine, AJ. A regular cake walk. Just nice joy ride into the city, then home before Alice has her pajamas on.” Dash smiled. “I’d never steer you wrong.”
“An’ the snake that got Eve was a real trustworthy fella too,” she replied, but matched Dash’s smile regardless. “Alright. Guess ya fed me enough honey inta my ear. We’ll give this a shot, alright? But if it ends up bein’ a bad deal, yer shovelin’ grain fer me until yer eighty.”
Dash raised an eyebrow. “You want me around that bad, huh?”
“I—” AJ felt herself stumble at the joke, feeling a foreign flutter in her chest. She brushed it aside as quickly as she could and let out a derisive snort instead. “The only way I know ya ain’t gonna get inta an even worse pickle is if I got my eyes on ya, genius.”
Dash threw her arm around Applejack’s back “No more pickles for me. It’s blue skies from here on out.”
“I’ll believe it when I see it, sug,” AJ remarked. She leaned in a bit to the arm and gave a small smile at her friend’s promise, the woman so cocksure Applejack couldn’t help but be bemused by it. “I’ll believe it when I see it.”
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I see that picture and all I thought was: "That poor car." Applejack looks to be leaning on the weakest part of the door!
23 Skiddoo, that sure was the bee's knees. Err... Flappers...? Clearly you're much better at writing 20's lingo than me. Anyway, I love how you brought the characters we love into this era. Can't wait for the rest.
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Those old cars were pretty damn sturdy. None of this plastic bullshit we have today. I think it'll be just fine, even if AJ's a big girl.
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You should have seen our first draft. We originally went a little overboard with the slang, and had to dial it back.
Glad you like it so far!
I approve of this fiction and the sorta pony words contained within.
As a British person, 1920s American slang? Totally superior to any Britishisms. There's something about the setting that's inherently comfy.
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Every time, Merc.
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Actually... that one was me.
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Drat.
For good or for ill, any mention of hobos makes me think of John Hodgman's The Areas of My Expertise. "Rainbow Dash" probably would fit in fairly well with the other seven hundred hobo names.
In any case, I'm definitely intrigued. I love a well-researched period piece, and you clearly did your homework here. I look forward to more.
A very intriguing beginning, and the characters both feel at home and well worn in the setting, but also like themselves. It's an odd thought at first blush, but 1920s America is pretty close to ol' anachronistic Equestria. I'm definitely getting some good The Wind in the Willows vibes from this, which is amusing considering the whole talking animals/humanized nature of it. I'm eagerly awaiting more.
I cannot think of a single reason why this indent is here.
Other than that, you've grabbed me.
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Because importing from gdocs is never allowed to actually work all the way. It's fixed now, thank for pointing it out!
6455323 This is why I write fimfic on Fimfiction, to avoid porting troubles.
Hooch runners. Hoo boy.
Why do I get the feeling Filthy's car won't be in one piece?
Also:
Compliments!
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Fixed! Thank you!
Lookin real swell.
If I am not actively speaking only in '20s slang by the end of this story I will consider the venture a failure.
You've both managed to make something simultaneously ridiculous and just sane enough for me to buy it. Why was I nodding enthusiastically when Pinkie was the owner of a speakeasy? Maybe I spoke too soon. Not sane enough for me to buy it, but crazy enough for me to adore it.
20's dialog. Gotta love it. Good story. You have my interest. Have a like!
I really like this one. Surprised it keeps catching random downvotes (with no comments to explain them), but eh, that's fimfiction.
Great concept executed well!
Lackadaisy Ponies?
Good stuff :)
Not even done with this chapter and I love it. The time period, the jargon, the everything!
This is like... a backronym, but for ponification, isn't it?
I'm so all about this story.
Gee whiz this story is swell. But seriously though you've done a dang good job painting the characters we know and love into a wonderfully unique setting, plenty of ponies on earth or as humans stories, but not very many that go this far. I really enjoyed your take on Mr. Rich, I was never too keen on his name in canon (what sort of scumbags name their child Filthy?
), not to mention his very small role in the show, I can't say for sure, but if you counted all his lines from all the episodes where he had a speaking part it might just barely fill up a single 22-minute episode. But having it as a nickname and also a symbol of respect by those who know him brilliant.
This story is interesting. Took me a bit to get used to the language, I've never really read period pieces or many stories from the actual time period. But it didn't take too long, and I came to appreciate it quickly.
As for the content, I'm really enjoying the story so far. I may not be versed on the language of the 30s, but I do like this kinda thing a lot. Curious where things go from here, though I do think AJ is maybe a little too trusting. Not a complaint about the story, just picking up on a fault that I expect will come up later. Great stuff, but I've come to expect that from you!